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My heart was literally crushed multiple times 😭😭 didn’t even know whether or not they’ll even get together at the end. But the in between, the flashbacks, the aftermathdjdjdjdj don’t know what else to say. Ffi, another story in my list that melts and breaks my heart simultaneously 💝💝💝💝💝

Go Easy on Me: A KTH Oneshot (m)

Characters/pairings: Taehyung x f!reader, feat. Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook (also non-BTS: Mino, Zico, Bobby, Woosung)

Genre: non idol au, e2l2?, angst, smut (see warnings below)

Rating/Warnings: ⚠️🔞 MA - Mature, adult content 🔞⚠️ Fic contains mild physical violence, m/f protected sex, depictions of intoxication and a lot of swearing/cursing

Word count: 21.3K

Note: I’ve been listening to Hug Me Tight by Bloo on repeat lately - check it out for the mood of this fic. This is the first writing I’ve done in a long time, so please forgive any mistakes especially as I couldn’t have it beta read. For anyone who follows my writing, thank you and I’m sorry I’ve been away so long (explanation here)

PART ONE: Hug me Tight - Taehyung makes an exhibition of himself

“So she’s not there with Jiho?”

Unseen, Namjoon rolls his eyes, “She’s here. Jiho’s here.”

“Are they there together though?” Namjoon doesn’t miss the faint, but definite, whiny undertone to Taehyung’s words and finds himself beginning to lose patience. He won’t entertain this from Taehyung, not today, not when he’s missing his own party to take this call.

“No, he’s here with someone else.” Namjoon’s eyes are rolling so hard he’s amazed he can’t see the inside of his own skull.

“Ah, ok ok ok,” Taehyung breathes in relief before sucking in a sharp breath as an unwelcome memory occurs to him, “I heard some rumours a while ago that she might be dating Minho now? Or even worse, Jiwon?”

Namjoon groans heavily now, unable to hide the exasperation he feels. “No, not any of them. Who told you that? Na, don’t bother… I already know. Listen, every man I know here is either single, with a girlfriend or has one at home. Also, for the millionth time, she said she’d was coming alone.”

“Right…” Taehyung dithers at the other end of the phone, “I guess I’ll head over then - is everybody there?”

“We’re all here. Just waiting for you.”

“Oh…” is all the reply Namjoon gets; he quickly realises why. It’s not guilt about being late that’s causing Taehyung to hesitate, it’s that he doesn’t want to have to arrive alone.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon begins firmly, “you’re a grown ass man, you can come to a party without your damn girlfriend to hold your hand.”

“I know,” Taehyung admits, “I just don’t want to run into her when she’s with another guy, that’s all.”

Namjoon’s lip curls in disdain, even if Taehyung can’t see it, he can hear it in his friend’s voice, “Fuck man, you’re definitely old enough to face up to your mistakes.”

“She was never a mistake,” Taehyung says, too quickly.

“Hmm,” hums Namjoon, “you’re right, she was never yours, was she? That was the mistake.”

There’s a long pause at the other end of the line. Namjoon is too frustrated for the moment to feel any guilt.

“I guess,” Taehyung finally replies in a small voice.

“Get here soon,” Namjoon demands, it’s then that the stab of guilt comes. 

Yes, Taehyung is being pathetic, undoubtedly so, but he’s also so very lost. Namjoon doesn’t know the details of what caused the implosion of your friendship with Taehyung, but he knows Taehyung and it’s obvious that Taehyung loved you and probably still does. 

To be honest, Taehyung’s love for you is obvious to anyone with eyes and half a brain cell: it’s an open secret amongst his friends and Namjoon suspects Taehyung’s girlfriend also knows, in fact he suspects she’s the one behind the rumours of you apparently dating half of Seoul as far as Taehyung believes… Namjoon wonders what other fictions about you she’s been spinning to Taehyung.

The reason for Namjoon’s pity is his certainty that you are probably one of the few people that have no idea how Taehyung really feels and his suspicion is that Taehyung might not realise it either.

So, feeling a little sorry for Taehyung, he adds a final detail, “Anyway, not that it matters, but I can see her now - she’s just hanging with friends, no guy in sight.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung says, his relief and gratitude evident, “How does she seem?”

Namjoon groans, “Seriously? I don’t know… Relaxed? Happy, I think? Beautiful as ever. You’ll find out yourself when you get your ass here. Get a fucking move on.”

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Taehyung enters the rented gallery; a modern, expansive space of glass and stone. People are scattered about but most are surrounding a makeshift stage on which a band perform. The four-piece play their instruments with joyful abandon and the crowd seems to respond. Taehyung wonders if you’re somewhere in that crowd of people, absorbed by the performance and unaware of Taehyung’s presence. He can almost see you, swaying along happily. He imagines the smile playing at the corner of your lips and how it would undoubtedly fall away as soon as you saw him.

As the song ends the audience break into applause and Taehyung scans the crowd, disappointed not to find you. As another song strikes up his attention is caught by the band: they’re proficient yes, but there’s something magnetic about them too. But it’s not them that gives him pause, it’s the song; there’s a curious melancholy edge to the tune that gives him an awful sense of dread and so he turns away.

He makes his way around, finding friends and greeting them as the band finishes and disappears. In the quiet, he looks around at the now dispersing crowd. Finally, there you are: you’re with your friends and, as he suspected, Minho, Jiho and Jiwon are all part of that crowd. Namjoon was right, Taehyung thinks as he watches you: you haven’t come with any of them. Are you still single? Does it really matter? Like Namjoon said, you were never his.

He knows he should say hello to some of the people you’re with, but he really doesn’t want to. He knows more than one of your friends despises him, but some of your friends are his seniors and this is his friend’s party, he knows shouldn’t be rude. As he’s considering how to approach, Jiho catches his eye and delivers a sharp nod before looking away. It’s not unfriendly, but nor is it friendly either, it’s a neutral look that clearly says, ‘I acknowledge you, there’s not a need for you to come over.’ 

Taehyung is not really surprised to find out that it’s not just some of your friends that dislike him, in fact, it seems to be universal: as soon as his presence is registered they group around you like a clutch of mother hens, shielding you from the gaze of a dangerous predator. For a moment Taehyung wonders if that’s what he is, or has been, to you.

Beside him, Jimin notices and begins to offer words of comfort before Taehyung conceals his embarrassment and pain behind a scoff at their behaviour, managing a conceited smirk. Taehyung knows how to perform the part of the nonchalant, disinterested guy, but Jimin knows him too well to buy the act. 

However, your friend Jiwon, stood facing Taehyung, notices, seeing the smirk and he believes it. In reply his blood boils and his smile sinks into a scowl.

Surrounded by his friends, Taehyung takes a seat and sips the beer Jin has brought him. Some other friends, Yoongi and Hobi, have taken to the DJ booth, and the music starts back again. 

In the midst of his closest friends, Taehyung still cannot relax and his attention never strays far from you. He watches as you take to the dance floor with Minho. 

He hates watching you dance: you are always self-conscious and shy so your initial movements are always slow, small, a little off-beat and awkward. You always look uncomfortable, but that’s only until you lose yourself in the music and the security of the presence of a dance partner you feel safe with, then you do your thing. 

It’s not that you then become some amazing dancer performing perfect choreography, but rather your body moves smoothly and the ease and happiness you feel flows through your movements and radiates beyond you. It’s almost as if you glow, and the infectious joy you feel spreads to those around you. It has always moved him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. No, that’s not the right image, there’s nothing about you that burns or is dangerous. In fact, to Taehyung, you’re the embodiment of kindness, gentleness and safety. Once he thought those qualities made you the best friend he could ever have, but maybe a little too unexciting to be a girlfriend. Now, wiser through experience, he realises that he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

If he were in less pain he’d be embarrassed that he’s fallen into the cliché of endless people before him: yet another fool that didn’t know what a good thing he had until he’d lost it. As he watches you, that’s the main thought in his mind: how perfect you are and how much he’d give anything to have you back in his life. 

There are other thoughts swirling too and unlike his view of you, Taehyung knows he’s far from perfect. He ought to admit that watching you dance never fails to stir a feeling low within him, causing his pants to feel too tight. That’s not the worst of it though, because it also stirs his heart and that’s far more dangerous. Watching you dance is like falling for you all over again.

So yeah, Taehyung hates watching you dance. He hates it because it reminds him how in love with you he is and how he’ll never have you. Why? It’s simple; it’s because both you and he know that he will never deserve you. 

Still, even if he has abandoned all hope of ever calling you his, he can’t seem to avoid the memories of happier times when he would have called you his best friend. They haunt his days and nights; any time Taehyung is free to escape reality and is left with the quiet of his thoughts, his inner mind is filled with you. 

Now, watching you dance, he thinks of how there was a time when you’d open up and blossom in his arms as you are now doing with Minho, and he’d feel all those glorious things about you up close. But the last time you two met on the dance floor the opposite had happened; you’d folded up, like a daisy at dusk, wilting before him. Then you shrank away from his touch as though it burned you, disappearing into the crowd and were lost to him, in more ways than one. 

The moment was burned into his mind, the look you gave him was one of pure disappointment as you said ‘I’m done with you.’ That was it. Then you were rushing away from him. He wanted to follow you, but found his path blocked by Jiwon’s tense figure, a coiled spring of anger and judgement.

Yet, for all the pain, he watches you still. His heart stings as you dance with Minho and he falls for you all over again, his heart swelling, as he knew it would. How is he supposed to stop loving you?

You’re not dancing for long before the crowd make space for the returning band, now changed and refreshed. They move around the dance floor, greeting friends and falling in with different groups. The leader strides straight for Minho. Taehyung watches as eyes on the dance floor turn towards the man’s delicate features and handsome smile.  When he reaches Minho he shakes hands and they laugh together. Taehyung holds his breath, anxious for you - he can’t see you through the crowd now, but assumes you’re shifting nervously, your dance partner gone, lost at sea. His heart skips a beat for you and he resists the urge to rush to you in rescue, reminding himself that he’s the last person you’d seek comfort from.

You come into focus as a group leave to go the bar, clearing his line of sight. The soft shifting lights cross your face in a kaleidoscope of colour and in the illumination your expression confuses him: you are tense, as he suspected, but there’s a excitement to it that he can’t place. 

From beside him, he hears Jimin suck in air and he wonders why, his understanding just a beat behind his friend’s.The realisation catches up with him though as Minho leaves the dance floor and the guy turns to you, his arms closing around you and pulling you close. 

It’s ok, it’s ok, he tells himself, he’s obviously a friend. 

He must be, he reasons, because you’re melting into his arms which you’d never do with someone who wasn’t close to you. That thought makes his breath constrict in his chest as his heart seems to clench.

Namjoon said you were coming alone, didn’t he? So who the fuck is this fucking asshole anyway? Who booked his shitty, pretentious band for this party? Who does he think he is, swinging his guitar around? The guy’s obviously an asshole, why are you even friends with him? You hate guys like this don’t you? Fucking poser… Taehyung’s thoughts turn dark and tumble over each other in a maelstrom of panic as he continues to stare powerlessly on.

The hug breaks and before he can draw a breath of relief through his parted lips, he watches as the guy presses his mouth to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose and finally your lips. Taehyung doesn’t miss how the guy’s hand presses into the small of your back to mould your bodies together. Neither does he fail to notice how you respond, tilting your head back, your arms around his taut body, your enthusiasm matching the guy’s. Taehyung has never hated a stranger quite so instantly before.

Taehyung feels a million things at once as he watches the two of you kiss; it’s only when Jimin pulls him around in his chair, finally getting his attention, that he realises the predominant emotion coursing through his veins.

“Tae,” Jimin repeats for the sixth time, “let’s step outside,” his voice is soft and gentle and he catches the tear that drips from Taehyung’s chin and surreptitiously wipes his friend’s face.

Taehyung follows Jimin wordlessly, feeling his heart shatter in his chest. He hates how in love with you he is and how long it took to realise it. Too long, as it turned out, and now here you both are, in the same room again after so many months and somehow further apart than ever.

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In the privacy of the balcony, looking over the glittering lights of the Seoul skyline, Taehyung turns helplessly to Jimin. 

“Who is he?” he asks.  He doesn’t know how the answer will help, but he asks it anyway. What else can he do?

“I don’t kno-” Jimin begins before a voice from behind them interrupts, the tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Kim Woosung,” the voice drawls, “What else do you want to know?”

Taehyung wipes the remaining tears from his face and freezes his expression into one of stony disinterest before he turns to face Jiwon’s smirking face. 

It doesn’t matter how much Taehyung wants to know about Woosung, he won’t ask Jiwon for anything. He knows Jiwon dislikes him with a violent passion. That’s actually literal because the night Taehyung broke your heart, Jiwon had laid a punch on him that was so hard it had fractured his cheekbone. Taehyung was lucky that Jungkook had caught Jiwon around the waist just as he’d swung; Jungkook’s grip held Jiwon back just enough that the blow was softened and missed its intended target of Taehyung’s nose, which would have doubtless broken in a spray of blood and agony.

“No? No questions?” Jiwon taunts, “Okey dokey. How’s the …” he thumbs the corner of his mouth, smirking, as he gestures to Taehyung’s cheekbone with a flick of his fingers. 

Taehyung stares on coldly; he doesn’t show that he’s intimidated, but he is. He’s never been in a real fight in his life, it’s not in his nature to do so, but that one punch told him that Jiwon has known his fair share of scraps and knows what he’s doing when he throws his well-trained fists about.

Taehyung sets his jaw, steeling himself for what might happen yet and is surprised when they are interrupted by a very attractive, very pregnant woman, who appears behind Jiwon, “Baby, leave it,” she says gently and quietly, trying to avoid being overheard by Jimin and Taehyung, though they catch every word, “It won’t help. She’s happy, don’t waste your time.”

Jiwon beams at her, his scowling face transformed into a gentle, handsome smile, “Don’t worry baby,” he soothes before turning back to Jimin and Taehyung, “my wife to be and baby to be,” he says by way of introduction. Both Jimin and Taehyung manage to offer nervous smiles and polite nods to her which she replies to with her own shy, little nod.

Jiwon begins to turn away with his little family but can’t resist adding, “Y’know she’s far more sensible than me,” he says as he wraps his arm around his fiancée, “and I always listen to her. It’s funny how being with a good woman makes you so much better as a person - not that you’d know, eh, Taehyung-ssi?”

Blushing, his fiancée pulls him along, but before he steps back through the glass doors he calls a very distinct warning back over his shoulder, “One last thing, Taehyung - stay the fuck away from her if you know what’s good for you.”

Taehyung stares at him impassively, though his mind and heart race. When they’ve gone, he turns back to Jimin.

Jimin looks hopelessly at him, “Tae…” he says softly, not knowing how to finish.

“Who the fuck is fucking Kim Woosung?” hisses Taehyung, just as Jungkook joins them.

Jungkook ignores the question, his jaw tight with concern, “More trouble with Jiwon?” He asks, obviously remembering the same night, and the same punch. Jimin reassures him quickly and briefs him on what happened.

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, turning his attention to Taehyung, “I know a bit about this - about Kim Woosung, and about him and her  - I just found out from Minho,” he explains, falling over his words with nervous energy.

With gritted teeth Taehyung braces himself, knowing whatever it is, he’s not going to like it, “Tell me.”

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Jungkook tells Taehyung everything and Taehyung was right, he really didn’t like it. In fact, once told he really didn’t want to know any of it: he didn’t want to know that Woosung was the leader of a band and an accomplished singer, songwriter and musician. He didn’t want to know that he was popular and well-liked and that even your hostile friends love him. He didn’t want to know how that you’ve actually known him for years but only really connected when you were set up anonymously through a friend so you could pet-sit for him. He didn’t want to know the cute story of how Woosung’s apparently adorable dog brought you together as a couple. He didn’t want to know that you two have been dating for months.  He didn't want to know about the trips together and the meeting of each other’s families. He didn’t want to know any of it. 

Yet he does, and with the knowledge looping through his mind on his own personal torture reel, he moves like a zombie through the party, numbed and disconnected, his friends shepherding him around like a lost sheep. 

Much later that evening, he finds himself alone at the bar, not drunk, but definitely on his way there. He looks to his side as he waits for service and becomes aware that Woosung is beside him.

Woosung nods politely and passively at him before his attention returns to the bar, though Taehyung notices that the man’s jaw is tense, a muscle jumping slightly there despite his composure. So, Taehyung thinks, you, or one of your friends, have talked to Woosung about him. Great. 

Taehyung can’t control himself - like a child with a loose tooth, he can’t help but poke at it, even though he knows it’ll only hurt, “Your band was good,” he offers dryly.

Woosung’s eyes narrow momentarily before he conceals his surprise with a fake half-smile, “Thank you.”

“Kim Taehyung,” he says nodding as he introduces himself, extending a hand.

Woosung shakes his hand briefly before dropping it in distaste; he lowers his voice as he replies so he’s only heard by Taehyung, “Kim Woosung. I know who you are. I know everything about what went down between you and my girl,” he explains and Taehyung doesn’t miss the ever-so-slight emphasis on the ‘my’.

How dare this asshole call you his girl, he’s known you 5 fucking minutes compared to the years of history you two share... Taehyung seethes. He won’t say any of that though so instead he gives a light, condescending chuckle to suggest he’s unbothered even though his gut twists, “So I’m the big villain, am I?”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Woosung says derisively. He seems to struggle for a moment, deciding on whether he should speak or not, but ultimately he gives in to the temptation, “I don’t know whether the unbothered asshole thing is who you are or if it’s a defensive act. To be honest, I don’t give a fuck, but you should know it’s not winning you any friends. And while you’re laughing like your above it all, you should know that she’s only ever spoken well of you. She said it was nobody’s fault that you two fell out. Jiho told me the truth about what you really did though.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how to reply; he’s not surprised that you’d cover for him, but it touches and hurts him in equal measure that you did, that you’d protect him even after he hurt you so badly. His face softens despite himself.

Woosung is glad Taehyung has nothing more to say. Seeing the guy before him now, he isn’t intimidated at all; it’s clear that Taehyung’s cool nonchalance is nothing but an act. He is clearly still bothered by what happened with the two of you and that satisfies him. He hopes Taehyung is tortured by it. All that matters to Woosung is that you’re his and that you don’t care about this bastard anymore.

He looks coldly at Taehyung as Jiho appears at the bar, “I don’t think I want to spend anymore time here, imma head back,” he concludes, not even looking at Taehyung as he turns away.

“I’ll get the drinks,” Jiho offers and he and Woosung exchange a few hushed words.

 Woosung seems to have second thoughts about leaving for a second, stepping back, and leaning into to Taehyung to whisper, “You should know that she regrets the years she wasted on you.”

Taehyung is struck dumb; Woosung may as well have stabbed him straight in the heart. It hurts far more than Jiwon’s punch ever did and he can only sit in silence, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Taehyung,” Jiho intones flatly by way of greeting as he takes Woosung place at the bar, not even looking at Taehyung.

“Jiho,” he replies flatly, pulling himself together, “Joined the queue to tell me how awful I am?”

Jiho laughs, “Why would I? You already know it,” he offers bluntly.

“Jiwon seems to think I need reminding,” Taehyung replies childishly.

Jiho laughs coldly, “Yeah… can you imagine if Jiwon knew the whole truth of what went down with you two?”

Taehyung looks puzzled, “He doesn’t?”

“Na… he doesn’t,” Jiho confirms, “The party was enough reason for him and the rest of them to hate you. The only other person who knows about what happened at her apartment is Woosung because she always tells him the truth, otherwise she’s still protecting your dumb ass.”

“I get it,” Taehyung says, avoiding the point and the shame that your kindness brings him, “Everyone hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Jiho exhales with a roll of his eyes, “I mean, I don’t like you, but you know that. But I guess I mostly feel sorry for you, Taehyung. It was always clear that you loved her even if you were a shit friend and you fucked it for fuck knows what reason. Now she’s happy and you’re not. You’re the one stuck in a relationship with the girl you thought you should be with while you ignored the one you actual loved. It’s a bit pathetic, really.”

Taehyung says nothing, the truth of Jiho’s words cutting deeply. He forces himself to look at Jiho, and meets your friend’s cold eyes as he finds his voice, “Is she happy?” he asks without thinking.

Jiho visibly softens, his pity for Taehyung unfurling, “She really is,” he says truthfully, “She’s with the right man for her - he loves her, he respects her, he treats her well.”

The barman finishes filling the tray and Jiho passes his card over before he claps Taehyung on the shoulder firmly, “Just stay away from her, yeah? It’s best for everyone,” he doesn’t wait for a reply, carrying the drinks back to the group.

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It’s no good. Taehyung knows he should leave, knows that he should at least look away from you but he can’t take his eyes off you. You though, you don’t look at him even once, not even a glance. 

Eventually, his eyes follow you as you separate from your friends, Woosung releasing your waist as you head off. He knows you well enough to know that you won’t be able to resist exploring one for your favourite galleries after hours.

Taehyung knows this gallery, how many times has he been here with you? He knows all the exhibitions here and he knows the painting on the third floor that you love. Without a second thought, he slips his friends and heads off in the opposite direction from you so as not to draw suspicion. 

He decides he’ll wait for you there. He doesn’t know why; he doesn’t know what he’ll say or what he’ll do but he’s compelled to by some irresistible force.

The third floor is illuminated only by dim lights around the artworks and so it’s easy for Taehyung to blend into the shadows, unseen, sat on one of the benches, his long fingers playing with the stem of his wine glass whilst he waits for you.

It takes a while for you to arrive, almost until he’s past the point of hope, but eventually you turn the corner and you don’t even notice him, your eyes transfixed on the painting before you. He waits until you’re near, staring up at it and then places his glass silently on the floor, edging nearer to you, until he’s stood less than a foot from you, just behind your shoulder.

“Hi,” he says softly.

He watches as your body tenses, but you neither move nor respond in any other way.

“How have you been?” He asks, trying to stay on safe ground, hoping that you’ll speak to him.

You sigh then, it’s heavy, deliberate and purposeful. It says all the things you don’t deign to put into words: I have no energy for you, Taehyung; I don’t want to speak to you, Taehyung; fuck off and leave me alone, Taehyung.

He says your name softly in response, an invocation willing you to give him something, anything. It doesn’t work: you simply turn away from him and head back in the direction you came, ignoring him entirely.

He acts without thinking, reaching for you and catching your shoulder, turning you to him so he can catch you by your upper arms and hold you in place.

You look at him in absolute shock and he pleads apologetically with you, “I’m so sorry, but please don’t walk away from me. Please, won’t you talk to me?”

He releases you gently then and you immediately step back from him and begin to turn. Panicking, he reaches for you again, his hands extending towards your hands, hoping to grasp them in his hold, but they’re drawing away from him rapidly. Your palms face him, fingers splayed, as you draw them towards you, then thrust them forward forcefully, straight into his chest. It causes him to stagger backwards away from you, sliding on the smooth floor and tumbling with a crash onto his ass, and it hurts.

“Fuck…” he cries out in pain.

You finally speak then, voice trembling with your own unspoken feelings, “Don’t ever touch me again, Taehyung,” you say, walking backwards from him before you turn and practically run from him, the best you can, anyway, in your vertiginous heels.

Taehyung hangs his head in his hands and gives himself over to heartbreak for a few minutes before he collects himself. Finally, he clambers up from the floor and dusts his sore ass, head hanging low.

Its then that footsteps catch his attention; he looks up just in time to see Jiwon’s furious face before he feels the enraged man’s clenched fist make contact with his jaw, sending him crashing to his ass once more.

“What about stay the fuck away did you not understand? You fucking prick,” Jiwon spits as he closes in on him. Jiwon leans over him, grabbing Taehyung’s shirt with his left fist to hold him steady so he can aim the next blow with his right.

Taehyung grabs Jiwon’s arm with both his hands to try to free himself when more footsteps signal Minho and Jiho’s arrival. They wrestle Jiwon back, affirming to him that Taehyung’s not worth it, that it’s not what you want, that he’s not worth the trouble… 

None of them spare Taehyung a second glance as they return to the party, Minho and Jiho steering Jiwon carefully as he shakes out his sore fist, leaving Taehyung to gingerly feel his aching jaw. He gives up then, lying back against the cool floor and lets the tears roll from the corners of his eyes into his hair.

On the cold floor of the gallery, Taehyung’s tears flow freely without pause. He doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps over his own sniffing.

The shape that approaches him is blurred through his tears but he’d know you anywhere. 

“Taehyung,” you say softly as he hauls himself up into a seated position, wiping his eyes and trying to make himself presentable, “Did he hurt you badly?”

You always do that, he realises. You’re never vague, it’s never ‘are you ok?’ or any question he’d struggle to answer because there was too much to say. Why do you always make everything easier for him?

“I’ll survive,” he says, he tries to chuckle but only a choked sob escapes. He blinks away his tears and his heart swells again to see you looking at him with such concern. Without thinking he reaches for you and you respond instinctively, sinking to your knees in between his legs. He’s quick to envelop you in a clinging hug as he cries into the crook of your neck. 

Against the warmth of your skin, and the unforgettable scent of you, he weeps all the harder, giving into long, shuddering sobs that wrack his body. In response, you do the only thing you can; you hold him all the tighter. 

PART TWO: Tired of the Lies - A flashback to the night where it all went wrong

“We’re not that late,” Jiwon laughs, looking at his watch but finding the face blurry to his drunken gaze, “It’s not even 10 yet!”

“Yah!” Minho shouts, equally drunk, looking at his phone, “It’s 50 past 1, you idiot!”

“It’s 10 to 2,” corrects Jiho laconically, sleepy in his drunkenness. His arm is around you, and he squeezes your shoulder, smiling at you, sharing the same laugh at the idiocy of your drunken friends, even if you’re similarly wasted, “You guys are both idiots.”

“It’s the same thing…” whines Minho.

You, also woozy and unsteady, simply giggle softly as you reach the door of the house. You’ve forgotten why it was so important to be at this party or why you’re even here.

Luckily for all of you, the party is still in full swing and everyone seems as wasted as you. Quickly you blend in, dance, and find other friends. Eventually, Minho finds you slumped on a couch, thinking about heading home.

“Hey, just saw Jungkook, he told me to tell you Taehyung is here and was pissed off that you hadn’t come,” Minho informs you.

Ahhh, that’s why you came, you realise.

“She’s not his mother, it’s not her job to take care of him,” Jiwon sneers from him placed sprawled beside you on the couch, “He’s always demanding things of you, he’s such a prick,” he adds, turning to you.

You’re very familiar with Jiwon’s dislike of Taehyung, so you say nothing, knowing it’ll only inflame tensions, “When was this?” you ask Minho.

“Hours ago, I think,” he slurs, flumping the other side of you.

You lean back between them, “He’ll have forgotten by now,” you say lazily, “Probably found that girl he’s been hooking up with. He’ll be fine.”

Jiwon shudders, “He’s got shit taste in women.”

Minho smirks, “She’s hot.”

Jiwon laughs derisively, “And that’s it. She’ll cheat on him like she has every guy she’s dated. She’s a fucking bitch.”

Minho smiles, “Did she break your heart?”

You feel Jiwon getting tense so you put you hand on his thigh to calm him, and turn to Minho, “Dude, no,” you say firmly, “She bullied the shit out of Jiwon’s girlfriend in school, didn’t you know?”

You three discuss it for a while until Jiho appears in front of you, taking in the scene and your dazed expressions, “Time to go?” he asks.

“’m fucked,” Minho admits, whilst you and Jiwon only nod as you stagger to your feet, wobbling against each other before you turn and haul Minho up. 

“Need a piss first,” Jiwon shares loudly.

“Nice,” you laugh, “Left our stuff in the kitchen, meet you at the door?”

With a grunt Jiwon ambles off and the other three of you head to the kitchen, though you all stop just outside when you hear your name being said and you pause to listen in. You place your finger to your lips and you all listen in giggling silently, drunkenly childish.

Your laugh doesn’t last long. In fact, all amusement quickly dies and your face falls. It’s Taehyung in the kitchen with the girl he’s been chasing after. She’s quizzing him about his relationship with you, suspicious of your closeness, his dependency on you and the way he was whining after your presence earlier like a baby.

“You do know she’s like, busy sucking of those guys she’s always with, or whatever, right?” the girl laughs, and Jiho eyes narrow, but you simply shake your head in disbelief.

“She’s not like that,” Taehyung replies, “They’re just her friends.”

“If she’s so perfect, why are you here with me then, Taehyung? Hm? What do you want? We’ve already fucked a bunch of times. You wanna be my man?”

“Yeah, want you,” he slurs.

Minho rolls his eyes and covers his mouth so he doesn’t laugh.

“Not her?” she taunts.

“Definitely not her,” he scoffs cruelly, and you frown a little, surprised at his tone. Jiho raises his eyebrows at you in return and the two of you share a look of confusion that he’d be so bluntly disrespectful.

“If you say so…” she says smoothly, “I just thought you had a crush on her, she’s quite pretty in the right light, I suppose.”

“Na, not to me,” he says passively, though there’s a hint that he’s losing patience with her questioning.

“Bollocks, you’re beautiful,” hisses Minho in your ear, trying to reassure you, but the pain is no less for it.

“That’s reassuring,” she snorts, “Try at least to sound like you mean it.”

“I don’t care about her,” Taehyung says sharply, “I want you. Are we gonna fuck or not? I’ve told you I’m not interested in her that way.”

She can’t seem to let it go, pushing her point, “So you’ve never seen her that way? Your best friend who you spend so much time with?”

“She’s my friend but she’s not my best friend,” he emphasises.

“Fucking liar,” Jiho mouths at you, his face a blend of shock and outrage, “He’s so fucking jealous of me.”

You know Jiho’s right, Taehyung has always proprietarily referred to you as his ultimate best friend and has always been jealous of your closeness with Jiho, or so you thought, until this conversation. Has it all been lies? 

Focusing on Jiho you’ve lose the thread of what Taehyung’s been saying but you pick it up, only to hear he’s still denigrating you “…not my type. She’s boring as fuck. I think she’s probably still a virgin. I’d never go there. We’re not even that close we just hang  ’cause my family expect me to look out for her.”

The second Taehyung called you ‘boring as fuck’ several things happened: you froze, shocked and seemingly unable to move; Minho disappeared to get Jiwon, knowing he’d want to be involved and Jiho barged into the kitchen. There was no thought in Jiho’s mind other than getting you out of the whole situation: he’d start with the getting out of this house and then he’d free you from each one of Taehyung’s poisonous tentacles that have ensnared you for so long. 

As he enters the room, Taehyung turns, his face falling to see your friend there, panicking that he’s been overheard.

“Fucking asshole,” hisses Jiho, grabbing your jackets and turning from the kitchen. As soon as he’s back with you, he guides you forward and out of your stupor as the two of you head towards the front door.

In the kitchen, the girl smirks at Taehyung’s stricken face, “You’re so cute - it’s sweet that your bothered. Go deal with it,” she says lazily, “We’ll fuck when you get back.”

Taehyung rushes after Jiho, a vague plan of convincing him not to tell you in his mind, but his stomach plummets when he realises you are with him, crossing the make-shift dance floor. He reaches for your shoulder and you spin around, cringing away from his touch.

“You’re here,” is all he can think to say. Jiho turns too and glares menacingly at him.

Across the room, Jungkook takes in the scene, and notices Jiwon weaving his way through the crowd to get to you, Minho a little behind. Instinctively, Jungkook senses trouble and rushes forward before it all kicks off.

You laugh at Taehyung’s bewilderment, trying to keep control of yourself, but your eyes swim with hurt, “Yeah, I’m here, but I’m leaving now,” you say dryly, your voice cold and detached as you try to protect your feelings, “It’s late and I should be at home, y’know, because I’m so fucking boring…”

His face collapses, panic setting in.

You smirk coldly at the realisation settling into his face. You can’t maintain it though, you’re too hurt and embarrassed to maintain a cold act. Unbidden, a tear rolls down your cheek and your face becomes the picture of disappointment.

He opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t,” you command, “I don’t want to hear it. Fuck you, Taehyung. I’m done with you,” you say as you turn away from him.

Taehyung reaches for you but Jiho is quick to close him arm around you, batting Taehyung’s outstretched hand away before he leads you to the exit.

Taehyung calls after you, making to follow you but he is stopped in his tracks by the growling of his name, “Taehyung!” 

He turns to see Jiwon appearing on his left, with Jungkook every so slightly behind. Then came the punch.

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Outside, you lean into Jiho as he holds you in a comforting hug, murmuring kind words and refuting all Taehyung’s little cruelties. 

Together you wait for both your Uber and your friends. Moments later they come staggering out of the house and trundle down the pavement towards you, muttering furiously together and Jiwon shaking his hand out.

When they reach you, Jiwon’s first words are “he’s lucky his friends threw us out. If he comes near you again, I’ll kill the bastard.”

“He’s a piece of shit,” Minho agrees, “we don’t know why you even bother with him - you have us and we love you.”

“I don’t think she will be anymore,” Jiho suggests as you smile weakly at them in thanks for their support.

“I’m done with him,” you confirm, your voice stronger than you anticipated.

“Good,” all three say in unison and you all laugh as the Uber pulls up.

“Back to mine for ramyeon?” Minho offers and the three of you accept gladly as you clamber into the car.

Powerlessly, with an ice pack held to his cheek, Taehyung watches from the doorway as the three of you climb into the car.

Jiwon’s voice echoes back to him, “My girl always says how pretty you are y’know, and that’s in any fucking light…”

Taehyung’s gut twists and his heart aches as he realises how much you heard. He stares on as the car carries you further away from him, disappearing into the thick black that comes before the dawn.

PART THREE: Just Take Me as I Am - A flashback of the visit that made everything worse.

It’s been three weeks since he saw you at that party and every day has been agony. You ignored all his texts and calls for a day or two, before blocking him on all platforms. He’s beginning to realise that when you said you were done with him, you may have been telling the truth.

Drunk as he was that night, he remembers the awful things he said about you, the childish pathetic words of a man who was desperate to get laid. He didn’t mean them, of course he didn’t. He was saying what he knew she wanted to hear. Of course, in the cold light of day, that excuse sounds pathetic even to his ears.

“We’ve been friends all our lives,” he whines to his friends, “This can’t be it, surely?”

Jimin doesn’t want to hurt his friend, but as he wraps his hands around his coffee, sipping the bitter liquid, he knows he should be honest, “What you said was pretty hurtful, Tae,” he admits, “I think she might have reached her limit.”

“What do you mean ‘reached her limit’, what does that mean?” he questions, pushing away the hot chocolate that grows cold before him.

Jungkook, beside Taehyung, gives Jimin a meaningful look, “Someone has got to tell him,” he mutters.

Jimin shakes his head but takes up the gauntlet anyway. Over the course of the next half hour he and Jungkook explain to Taehyung how your friendship seems from the outside and why they’re not surprised that you might have finally given up on him.

At first, Taehyung is deeply resentful of their critique, but as they go on, speaking as mildly and as kindly as they can, he realises the truth of their words: he does take you for granted and he often treats you badly. Never mind outsiders, he’s not even sure why you’re friends with him.

When they’re finished and Taehyung sits in the coffee shop booth in stunned silence. Jungkook gets up to order another drink and Jimin takes the opportunity to share a final thought with Taehyung.

“Tae,” he says gently, looking into his friend’s unhappy face, “I’m just going to say something that I think you need to think about. We don’t have to talk about it or anything, but I think you really should think about it…” he begins.

Taehyung knows Jimin is waiting for him to confirm he can speak. Why not? he thinks, He couldn’t feel anymore shit about himself… He nods, “Go ahead.”

Jimin takes a breath, “I think you have to really think about how you truly feel about her.”

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You lay on your bed. You’re freshly showered, you have a little make up on but you haven’t bothered to do more than throw a large tee over your body, bored after moisturising and putting your underwear on. 

You look at the clock and decide you could just have a nap. You’ve just cancelled lunch with your mother; you’re unable to face telling her about your falling out with Taehyung. You’ve known him since childhood and you know she’s so fond of him that she will definitely ask and you lack the energy for the fallout and long explanation you’ll have to give about cutting him out of your life. 

Now, you have hours of time before you’re due at Jiho’s for pizza night; it’s hardly a trek, your friends won’t expect you to make an effort and he only lives two floors up from you in the same building. You contemplate taking your make up off and having a nap, but then wonder who might be at Jiho’s tonight. Recently he’s taken to trying to set you up with the nicest guys he knows and some of them are undeniably hot; maybe the make up should stay on and you should make some kind of effort…

You daydream about one particularly cute guy, your thoughts giving way to fantasy as you feel the heat grow between your legs. As your hand is about the slip into your underwear you are interrupted by a distinctive knock at your door that you recognise immediately. You frown a little, getting off the bed and appraising yourself in the mirror. Deciding the tee is long enough, at least for Jiho’s eyes, you pad barefoot to your front door.

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Jimin’s words won’t leave Taehyung’s mind as he heads home from the café. Sat on the subway the words circle each other in his mind. Jimin was right about everything, he realises. The train pulls up at his station but he doesn’t move.

He remains on the train another few stops before he gets up abruptly and gets off the train. His mind is made up and practically runs in his eagerness to reach his destination. 

Heart and mind racing, he slips into the apartment building with a group of old men that are shuffling along, back from their lunch: he struggles to maintain respectfulness, wanting to run past them. As soon as he is able, he heads rapidly to your floor, trying to imitate Jiho’s way of knocking in the hope you’ll just open up without checking.

It works.

“You,” you say in surprise, and he knows he’s succeeded in tricking you. You’re quick to recover yourself though, “I’m busy.”

He takes you in, his eyes lingering below the tee as they trail up your legs, “Doing what?” he asks. He moves closer to you, causing you to step back in surprise, which allows him to get into your apartment and close the door behind him.

Kicking off his shoes, he raises a brow at you, “What’s going on? You’re just never going to talk to me again? After all the years we’ve been friends?”

You huff slightly and put your hands on your hips. It causes your tee to rise up further and he can’t stop his tongue from wetting his lips. 

He distracts himself by shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up when your next words strike a blow in his heart.

“I’m done with you,” you repeat coldly and the misery of that house party washes back over him.

He turns to look at you, in pain and disbelief, “A friendship like ours can’t end over one argument,” he insists.

“We didn’t argue,” you explain in a maddeningly superior and detached tone, “You spoke about me with zero respect and, to quote you, we don’t have much of a friendship, we’re only connected because you have to look out for me apparently.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you get there first, “Incidentally, that was fucking hilarious because it’s always me that looks out for you,” you scoff, “So you’re were not only fucking rude but took the absolute piss too.”

Taehyung knows you’re right, but he doesn’t linger on that. You’re giving away your true feelings now, you’re pissed off and hurt; he knows there’s a chance he can be forgiven as long as you still care.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he says quickly, “you’re my best friend! I was being an idiot. They were all lies to get her to stop asking me about how I feel about you -” he says moving closer to you.

“I don’t care,” you say, raising your voice in frustration and refusing to meet his eyes, “I have nothing to say to you. Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter to me, you don’t get to talk about me in that way. You have no fucking respect for me. You never have. Just go.”

He’s towering over you now and you look up at him, nostrils flared in anger, “No,” he says simply, “You mean everything to me and it does matter. It couldn’t matter more! We have to fix this.”

“I don’t want to fix this!” you yell, pushing against him so you can open the door and throw him out. He doesn’t move though, instead he just catches your struggling figure in his embrace.

“I know you’re hurt,” he says softly as you struggle against him, “Let me fix it, please.”

You ease your struggling for a moment. He whispers soothing words: he tells you you’re his best friend; that he loves and respects you on a level equal with his family; that he was an idiot for lying; that he’d been worried she’d have been put off if was truthful about what you mean to him; that he’d been so, so drunk… he goes on, hoping you’re listening.

He suspects you might be relenting as your body seems to relax in his hold and so he softens his grip allowing you to move back enough to look at him, “So please, let me fix it,” he concludes.

“No,” you say, echoing his simplicity back to him.

“No?” he asks, confused, “No what?”

“No,” you repeat, looking up at him with tears threatening your waterline and your lip trembling, “No, I won’t let you fix it. I don’t know what it is you want from me, Taehyung but it doesn’t matter, I’m said I was done and I meant it.”

“I’ll never be done,” he breathes, his eyes intensely focused on your lips.

“What?” you say, clearly confused.

Realising no words will convince you and aching with need for you, he dips his head and kisses you quickly.

You don’t react at all, stood still in shocked silence, so he kisses you again. 

On the third attempt to draw something from you, when his soft lips press against yours, you part your lips for him. For a moment he is relieved but then you you bite his lip sharply. He pulls back in surprise, licking the sore flesh as you eye him triumphantly.

In that moment of eye contact, something changes between the two of you and suddenly, in the most primal way, you know exactly what the other wants. 

Any restraint that either of you were capable of is lost. He smirks at you and you kiss him. He’s not surprised and he kisses you back eagerly. His hands squeeze your sides and you take the hint to jump and he catches you. As your legs wrap around his waist he drives you into the door as the two of you kiss with frenzied, desperate energy.

His cock throbs in the confines of his pants and he grinds into you for relief, the moan you respond with driving him wild. 

His hot mouth moves to your neck and, as he bites into you, he groans, “Fuck, I want you so fucking badly, but are you sure about this?” the question is punctuated by a forceful grind of his cock against you.

“Shut up and just fuck me, Tae,” you whisper and he’s quick comply; carrying you to your bedroom.

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When he throws you on the bed, he’s quick to pull his tee over his head and he discards it equally as fast. Yet, when he looks down at you, he pauses for a moment. Your hair is mussed; your lips red and puffy; your skin is flushed; your legs are parted enticingly and your tee has ridden up around your waist, exposing the delicate lace of your underwear.

He notices you bite on your lip, “What?” you say nervously as you watch him literally stop and stare at you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says breathlessly, surprised that your reaction is to scramble up the bed and pull the neck of your tee over your head to hide your face as you make a quiet ‘squeee’ sound of embarrassment.

You’re so adorable, he thinks, how can you be so fucking sexy one minute and so cute the next? He strips to his boxers and crawls on top of you, supporting himself on his elbows and knees as he prizes your tee out of your grip, managing to pull it gently past your eyes. He looks at you softly as he presses a kiss your forehead.

“Are you ok?” he asks gently, though he can’t conceal the teasing edge to his tone.

You nod and allow him to ease the tee further down, past your chin. As soon as your face is free, he’s quick to kiss you again but it’s a far gentler kiss than the ones that went before. A soft, perfectly synchronised kiss full of feeling and longing. 

As the kiss deepens, he lowers his body on to yours, tangling your limbs together, moving onto his side and pulling you with him so he doesn’t crush you. As he kisses and grinds against you, he’s thrilled to feel you push back, seeking the same delicious friction. When you eventually break part you’re both breathless and he searches your eyes, desperate to see the reflection of what he’s feeling right now. He wants to tell you how he feels, but you look too nervous, too skittish and he’s afraid of losing the fragile connection he’s rebuilding with you so he stays silent.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says instead, just as his treacherous, desperate cock twitches against you, causing you to giggle. He’s simultaneously grateful for, and frustrated by, the two thin layers of fabric that keep his cock from touching you where he wants to most.

You tease your fingers into the back of his head, playing with the hair that curls there, “I want to do this,” you say boldly, before shyness overtakes you again and you kiss him to hide away.

He allows you your moment, happy to be kissing you again, and chases your lips with his own. Somewhere in the series of kisses, he wrests your tee from you, and can barely control his groan of lust when he slips your bra from you, his hands quickly moving to your chest, enjoying how you shudder pleasurably under his touch.

The longer you kiss, the more impatient you both become and it’s with trembling fingers that Taehyung hooks into the band of your underwear and eases them down your legs. You’re bolder than him, your hand easing into his boxers and wrapping gently around his thick, throbbing cock. He pushes hard into your grip, and hisses as you begin a firm but gentle, teasingly slow glide up and down his aching length.

His mind goes blank, and he can only gasp into your mouth, overcome by your touch. When he come back to himself, he laughs gently, “Fuck, you’re good at this…” he moans as you rub your thumb over his sensitive tip and your other hand moves to play with his balls as he roughly pulls his boxers down and kicks them off.

Time seems to stop as he loses himself in your touch, breathing deeply. He can’t believe how close he’s getting so quickly and he begs you to stop, “I’m gonna come,” he groans.

“So?” you giggle, kissing his neck, “Why not?”

He whimpers as he eases you off him, “Because I wanna come in you,” he admits as you pull away from him, “Can I?”

You roll away from a moment, reaching for the bedside table and he seizes the opportunity to wrap his hungry mouth around your nipple, nibbling gently, his tongue flicking the bud. He grins at the way your back arches and your body shivers. With a quick lick of his fingers, he slides his hand between your legs as he reattaches his mouth to your breasts, grinning at the wetness he finds there.

“So wet for me,” he moans as his searching fingers find your clit and he draws rapid circles across the sensitive nub. After a few minutes of you thrashing under his tongue and touch, your hands wrap around him and he lifts his head to look at you when he feels the scratch of foil against his skin. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“I’m not a virgin,” you say dryly, and he can only nod as he takes the condom from you.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises as he open the packet and slips the condom on.

“I don’t want you to be,” you admit and then he’s kissing you again. The next thing either of you are aware of, you’re on your back, and he’s on top of you. He wraps his fingers around his cock, pressing against the underside, and pushes himself gently into your tight hole; you barely seems to be able to yield to him, the tension and pressure makes his cock even harder.

It’s not easy, and he pauses as you wince and hiss through your teeth beneath him as he pushes into you. You’re dripping wet for him, but you’re still so tight around him that he knows it must hurt.

“I’ll stop,” he says as you look up at him, your eyes watering a little. You look at him in betrayal, hooking your legs around him, pressing your heels into his ass as you raise your hips, drawing him into you.

He can’t help himself, the feel of you is too much, your lust for him is too addictive and so he grips your hips and drives his cock into you, pushing deeply until his balls press against your body. You both cry out, bodies shaking.

You tense around him as you adjust, your walls squeezing him, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. I think I’ll come just from this,” he warns.

You giggle and that makes the clenching of your walls even more delicious, “Stop that,” he laughs before you silence him with another kiss.

As you make out, he starts to move, sliding in and out of you gently and you gasp into his mouth.

“Oh God, Tae,” you moan, “Feels so good.”

He smiles as he supports himself above you, “I know,” he agrees, pressing his forehead against yours, “You feel so fucking amazing.”

He keeps kissing you sporadically as he sets a pace, maintaining slow, deep thrusts into you. 

Taehyung is on cloud nine. This is the best he’s ever felt. He knows he can only have been fucking you for minutes but it feels like hours, it’s the closest he’s ever felt to another person. In so many ways, you’ve always felt like an extension of himself, of his soul really, and now his body is at one with yours. He didn’t realise until now how much he needed this. He didn’t realise he felt incomplete until he found the completeness of being inside you. 

This is everything to him, a perfect mix of rhythm and discord: the breath passing from his mouth to yours is raggedly uneven, contrasting with the fluid synchronicity of his cock driving into you whilst your hips roll to meet each thrust.

“I want this to last forever,” he moans against your lips, with another deep roll of his hips. His hand moves between you, working your clit as your body writhes beneath him, “and I want to make you come,” he moans, “wanna see it.”

“Don’t stop,” you beg, your eyes desperate and he realises you’re close.

“I won’t,” he promises, “I’m gonna give you everything, can you take it?”

“I can take it,” you whimper, raising your hips to meet him as he speeds up his thrusts, making you almost scream.

“Good girl,” he praises, dropping his head into the crook of your neck as he pounds into you, “That’s my girl.”

You clench around him at the praise, and come undone beneath him, clinging to his biceps as you moan for him, your cries almost a wail. He lifts his head in time to catch your your expression: your smile, the way you bite your lip, your desperate gasps. I did that, he thinks, I’ve made her come. I’ve made that beautiful reaction happen.

The tightening and spasming of your walls around him is almost enough for him and he forces himself to withdraw from you.

“Can you take more?” he pants slightly, as you come down from your high.

“I can, please keep going, come for me” you say breathlessly, gently pushing his sweaty hair from his face tenderly.

He drinks you in, the glow of sweat on your prettily flushed skin, your eyes wide and sparkling for him… This is it for him. You’re everything he’s ever wanted. He doesn’t berate himself again for not knowing sooner, instead his simply resolves that he’s never going to let you go.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, thrusting back into you without warning and snapping his hips into you desperately, setting a new rapid pace. You moan out in surprise and it drives him wild; he hammers into you unrelentingly in reaction, and you can’t contain your cries.

“Fuck,” he groans as your still-spasming walls clench around him, making the drag and thrust of his movements more of a strain, but he only fucks you harder as your eyes begin to water at the overstimulation. 

Taehyung pants as he fucks you in total bliss; all he wants now is to come inside you and he curses the need for protection. He promises himself that he’ll earn your trust soon so he can fuck you raw and fill you with his cum.

He can’t get over the feeling of being inside you. The tightness that grips around him is like you’re walls have been moulded to perfectly grip his cock; the wonderful heat of you that is both comforting and so fucking arousing; the way your spasming walls pulsed around him when you came… It’s too much, you’re too perfect and he knows that this, being with you, being inside you, is the best he’s ever going to feel. In this one moment, you are ruining him forever. After this, nothing and no one will ever compare to you.

“Fuck,” he cries out, “I’ve never been this fucking hard,” he moans as he drives you into the mattress, your hands fisting the sheets as you shudder weakly, utterly spent. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he as much as he wants to make this last, he doesn’t. He tells himself that he has a lifetime ahead now to fuck you and so he focuses on chasing his high. 

He abandons all rhythm and restraint as he pumps into you; hitting you so deeply in so many good places that all you can do is scream for him and cry out as another orgasm takes you by surprise.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you cry out and it’s the sound of you coming undone for him and your convulsing walls that pushes him over the edge. He gives in to his approaching orgasm and it wipes him out, crashing through his body with the force of a tidal wave. His vision whites out and his hearing fades. Every single fibre of his body is focused on the blissful feeling of release as he shoots his cum into the condom. His mind goes blank and he collapses on you, keeping his cock deep inside you. 

After a few seconds, his mind clears and he’s aware of you calling to him, telling him he’s crushing you. He gently eases himself out of you, handling the condom carefully and tying it before he discards it. Then he rolls off you, pushing his sweaty hair from his forehead.

“Fuck, that was beyond amazing,” he grins as he eases himself next to you on the bed. Lying on his side, he runs his finger up and down the bone between your breasts, feeling the hot moistness of your sweaty skin as he kisses your temple before his finger travels to your jaw and he guides your face to his so he can kiss you tenderly. As your soft lips part from his you wince, moving your legs carefully, clearly sore after the pounding you’ve taken from him.

“I have to clean up,” you say, throwing the oversized tee back on and staggering to the bathroom. 

Taehyung, full of joy, smiles at you stupidly as you totter out; he’s giddy with happiness. When you’re gone, sated and peaceful, he stretches out and falls into a gentle slumber.

He only wakes when you return to the bedroom, body wrapped in a towel, wet hair dripping down your skin. He stretches his arms out, inviting you back into his embrace. You laugh gently and it’s the best sound he’s heard; it’s a melody he wants to soundtrack his days with.

You throw a clean towel at him, “Get a shower, for fuck’s sake,” you giggle.

He bounds from the bed, pulling you into a long kiss before he departs for the shower, laughing as you slap his naked ass as he passes you. He can’t help but wonder if you’ll go another round when he gets out.

⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂⦂

Taehyung smiles at himself as he wipes the steam from the bathroom mirror. He’s happier than he’s seen himself in a long time. 

As he pushes his damp hair back from his face, he spies the reflection of the clock and smiles again. It’s late but not too late: there’s more than enough time for you two to go out to dinner. It could be a date, he thinks, your first date… then you can come home and fuck all night. He can’t wait to taste you, or to feel your mouth around his cock… He shudders pleasurably and as he feel his cock stir he forces sex from his mind, turning to thoughts of dinner. You two have all the time in the world now and it’s crucial you realise his feelings for you, not just that he wants to fuck you.

Where to go? He plans as he dries his body, What will you want to eat? What will make you happiest? His mind immediately recalls your favourite tteokbokki place and as soon as he does, his heart swells again. 

You ate at that pub regularly with your other friends, to the point where it made him quite jealous. Taehyung knew you had other friends than him and he tried not to let it bother him, you two weren’t attached at the hip so he couldn’t really complain. Nonetheless, this one pub seemed to pop up over and over again on your Instagram feed and a quiet jealousy about it built in him. His peevish, petty comments about it eventually caught your attention and so one day, you took him there: just the two of you.

Jealous as he was, he was reluctant when you suggested it; tteokbokki is often far too hot for his tastes and he didn’t want to be laughed at while he fanned his mouth desperately. But you’d simply pointed both your thumbs at yourself and smiled cheesily, the code meaning ‘trust me’ between you, since you were children, part of a whole secret language only the two of you share.

When he arrived with you, he was surprised to be greeted by the sweet ahjumma that ran the tiny place as if she anticipated his coming. The tteokbokki he received was far milder and more delicious than any he’d had before. It was only when you nipped to the restroom that he realised why, the owner sneaking over to make a point of telling him that you’d helped her out of a tight spot and the only payment you’d accept was that she’d make special mild tteokbokki for your friend whenever you brought him. He couldn’t believe it and yet he completely did at the same time; it was typical of you and everything he loves about you.

Did he love you then? Now he realises that he did, and he’s amazed that he didn’t know at the time. He’s just as amazed that he also failed to realise that you loved him. Of course you do, how else could you be so perfect for him? How else could you be so wonderful?

So, tteokbokki it is, he decides as he comes back into your bedroom. He expects to find you dressed, so he’s surprised to see that your hair is still in a towel and you’ve wrapped a robe around yourself as you sit on your bed, your phone in your hand.

You’re staring down, so he can’t read your face, but the confusing scene does little to dampen his enthusiasm. He pulls on his clothes, which you’ve neatly folded for him, waiting for you to say something.

“So,” he says cheerily, doing his belt up, “I was thinking we could get dinner together? That tteokbokki place you love so much?”

You look up at him then, a detached emptiness in your eyes, “Aren’t you already late for dinner?” you say flatly, glancing at the shiny black rectangle which lies on the bedside table.

Taehyung’s world implodes. 

The memory of his plans for this evening crash over him like icy water, dowsing him in cold reality: the moment he decided he had to see you all other thoughts left his mind, they all flood back now though.

He’s late for the date he has already planned with his girlfriend. The girlfriend you don’t know about. The girl he intends to break up with to be with you. The girl from the party. 

He panics, not knowing how to explain, his mouth opening and closing desperately, like a fish out of water, as he fumbles for words.

“Don’t bother,” you say numbly, your expression blank, “I understand exactly what’s happened. Just get out, Taehyung.”

“No, no,” he says desperately, moving towards you, “You don’t understand, it’s not like it seems -”

You pick up his phone and sling it at him. It’s a surprise and though his quick reflexes allow him to catch it, he drops it straight away in sweaty-palmed nerves. 

As he suspected, when the phone hits the carpeted  floor, the screen lights up he sees the range of notifications from his very annoyed girlfriend, desperate to know where he is and more than a little pissed off to find herself sat waiting at a restaurant without any sight of him.

When he stands back up, you’ve slipped out of the room unseen and he finds himself alone.

“Fuck,” he cries aloud, calling your name desperately as he strides through your apartment, rushing to the living room where he hears movement.

Your front door is open. Stood in the doorway, jaw set and eyes burning angrily, stands your neighbour and other best friend, Woo Jiho.

“Time to go, Taehyung,” he states plainly, “You’ve overstayed your welcome, you absolute piece of shit.”

Jiho steps inside the apartment and kicks Taehyung’s shoes out into the hallway before he steps to the side, indicating for Taehyung to leave with a patronising flick of his hands.

What else is there to do? Taehyung thinks, moving past Jiho silently and slipping his feet into his shoes over the worn-in backs. He doesn’t pay attention to Jiho’s scowling face. Taehyung’s mind is focused on you and you only: he is strategising what to say to you next, and what he can do to fix things with you, biting on his lip as his brain whirrs.

“Hey,” Jiho says, calling him to attention and throwing Taehyung’s jacket at him.

“Let me stop you there,” Jiho says perceptively, watching Taehyung carefully, “you can quit planning your next douchebag move. She called me here to get rid of you. She’s been very clear that she’s just made the worst mistake of her life with you and she never wants to see you again.”

Taehyung can’t process the information quickly enough to react before Jiho starts speaking again.

“And let me make something else clear,” Jiho continues, “All of us, all of us who really care about her, are fed up of you and your bullshit constantly pulling her down. You’re not a friend, you’re not even a man, you’re just a fucking parasite feeding off her. You always have been. I’m glad she’s finally rid of you.”

Pathetically, Taehyung trots out his only defense, “She’s my be-” he begins but finds himself cut off as Jiho preempts him again.

“No, no, no. You are not her best friend, I am. This is what real friendship looks like. So if any part of you has something resembling a conscience, then you’ll fuck off and leave her alone.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to respond but Jiho is already slamming the door shut in his face.

Stunned, confused and numb, Taehyung staggers from your apartment block. It takes him weeks to process what’s happened but eventually he gets the message after endless signs: you block his number; the doorman refuses his entry to your building; his desperate attempt of writing to you is returned unopened. The final warning is the biggest surprise though, and the one that make him cease his constant attempts to contact you.

Anyone who knows anything about Taehyung knows how much family matters to him. It’s well known that loves and respects his father deeply and so when his dad calls him and asks him to come to dinner, Taehyung is quick to accept. 

At dinner, of course his father asks after you, your families have been close all your lives and your fathers are best friends. Taehyung finds it hard to respond let alone to explain. His father simply nods as though he was expecting such a nervous reaction. 

He then states the purpose of the dinner and Taehyung is mortified when he’s told that your father has asked Taehyung’s to tell his son to stay away from you. He’s grateful to find that neither of your parents seem to know the full details, but they know enough to understand you’re friendship is destroyed and to suspect that Taehyung is at fault, which he doesn’t deny.

By the end of the meal, Taehyung had confessed everything and is in tears, pouring out to his father every single thought and feeling he has.

His father comforts his broken son, tries to ease his pain with gentle pats and understanding words. He can’t humour Taehyung’s delusions that everything will be ok though: Taehyung might believe that if he could just talk to you and make you see how he feels that then you two will be together and all will be right with the world. Taehyung is a romantic, but this is one romantic ideal too far - it’s simply not going to happen. So, though it breaks his heart to do so, he pushes Taehyung to understand and to accept that you are well and truly lost to him.

It works: Taehyung does understand. He understands that you neither want to see him nor hear from him and that your friendship is over. Yes, he understands, but he doesn’t accept it. Deep in the recesses of his mind, Taehyung believes that one day, he’ll make things right with you.

PART FOUR: Make You Happy - It’s time to finally confess

On the bench he sat on earlier in that deserted section of the gallery whilst he waited for you, Taehyung now sits beside you, holding your hands in his. 

He is finishing explaining all the things he wanted to tell you. It’s overwhelming; what began as some sort of verbal love letter enumerating all the ways he loves you melted into a comprehensive catalogue of every single thing you’ve done for him that he’s valued and failed to show. In turn, that gave way to a list of every tiny mannerism and detail of your personality that he adores, all the in-jokes he can no longer tell, the unique language that you share that now dies on his tongue. 

You feel like you’re stood on the shore, clinging on to a breaker, whilst unrelenting wave after wave batters you; it’s all too much. It’s too much ti take in and too much to process. Still, you know he needs to speak and he needs to be listened to and so you push those feelings aside and you are who needs you to be, as you always have been.

Taehyung realises he’s overwhelming you, he knows this is too much for anybody but he can’t contain himself. Finally, he’s found the words that he’s never been able to find before and they rush from him like a tapped spring; an almost violent torrent of pure feeling and meaning. He tells what you have meant to him, how grateful he is for all the love you showed him over so many years, for all the things you did for him and how much he’d taken it for granted. 

“You are the best friend anyone could ever have and I love you,” Taehyung concludes as he takes in your stressed expression. 

He knows he’s pushing things too far. He knows you have a boyfriend, that he has a girlfriend. He knows he should stop. After so many years of being ignored though, Taehyung’s heart has finally been heard and fights to continue; it begs him to take the risk of telling you the whole truth. 

With a deep breath, slowly and deliberately, he takes the plunge, “I love you so fucking much, as a friend, always, but also, as more,” his voice shakes as he builds his courage, “The truth is that I am so in love with you. I never knew it was possible to feel so much for someone. It’s the strongest and most pure and most painful thing I have ever felt, but it’s so real. I love you. I need you to know that.”

You look pained, your mouth twisting uncomfortably, “Taehyung, please don’t…”

“I know, I know you have a boyfriend,” he interrupts, becoming a bit frantic in his desperation not to let you slip further from him, “I know it’s not simple. I know that. But let’s just make it simple for a moment, yeah? I don’t expect anything from you other than for you to be honest with me. You still love me too, right? You do, don’t you? You’re still in love with me?” he almost begs.

He can’t decipher the look you give him, your eyes wide and welling with tears.

“Tell me the truth,” he says, trying to sound strong, “I can take it. Just be honest with me.”

Your words are a hoarse whisper and you can’t look at him, staring instead at your joined hands, but he hears each word ring out as clearly as the peel of church bells, “I’m sorry Tae, but I don’t.”

It’s a blow, but not a surprise after how he’s behaved, so he quickly recovers, “I understand, I’ve treated you so badly. But do you think you could love me again? The way you used to? They way that I love you? That we could have it back?” he pleads.

You hesitate, your face the very picture of guilt. He watches you struggle, he knows that you’re debating whether you can bring yourself to say what want to. He understands, you’re a good person, you don’t want to betray Woosung, but Taehyung will help you. He’ll knows he can be the man you needed him to be - he can give you strength. He can make you happy.

“Just tell me,” he encourages with a warm smile, “Whatever it is, it’ll be ok. We’ll get through it. Just tell me.”

You swallow and blink and the tears run down your face, “Taehyung, I’m so sorry,” you begin, trembling as the tears flow fast and thick, “But you’ve got this wrong. I, um, I - Fuck! I can’t say it!” you cry in pain and frustration.

“Please,” he says softly, “We’ve come so far tonight, please just tell me the truth. It will be ok.”

You counter with your own plea, “Please don’t make me…” you weep.

Taehyung wipes your tears away with the gentlest touch of his thumb, pleased that you don’t flinch from him. He softly breathes your name, “I’ll make it as easy as I can for you… Do you think that you could love me again?”

You scrunch your eyes closed and steel yourself before you rush out the words as though that makes it somehow easier, “I never did.”

It knocks the breath from him and he gasps. His hearing seems to disappear and the room starts to spin. He grabs the edge of the bench to steady himself. It takes a moment before he’s able to look at you, when he does you look back at him in concern, embarrassment and guilt and he realises it’s true. 

Somewhere, somehow, he misunderstood everything. This moment right now is the actual plain truth. You, the best friend he has ever had, the one person he has loved with absolute certainty and with everything he has to give, do not love him back. Not only do you not love him back but you have never loved him.

Tears blind him as he looks at your own teary eyes, “Please explain,” he sobs.

“Taehyung…” you plead, begging him not to make you.

“When we -” he begins, turning to you and grasping your hands again, grateful that you don’t pull away, “That time, when we… I thought… I was so certain…Please, I need to understand.”

You take a deep shuddering breath and squeeze his hands gently, forcing yourself back into the role of being what Taehyung needs you to be, “Ok, I’ll start at the beginning…”

You do. You start at your teenage years and carry on all the way to the fateful day at your apartment. As you speak, Taehyung’s understanding grows slowly, like the dawn breaking; yet with every moment that the horizon of his understanding lightens, it melts away the fragile hope he cleaves to, as delicate as frost on a blade of grass. The more you talk the more he realises how wrong he’s been and that he’s never once had your love. 

You explain, in clear and devastating detail, your perspective of your entire history with Taehyung, and it could not be more different from his own. The picture you paint is a bleak one. It’s clear your teenage years were as he remembered them, best friends, as thick as thieves. Yet as you grew up, he assumed you still had the same devotion to him, but instead you explain that he became a burden to you. You don’t use those exact words but he knows that it’s what you mean. Suddenly the picture Jimin and Jungkook painted becomes even more worse. You explain that you two grew apart, that he became selfish, focused on himself and his needs only and somehow you and what you wanted just melted away and lost all significance to him. 

In the gentlest way you can, you tell him that over time, the expectation that you would always be there for him without much support back became exhausting. The bond forged between you as kids meant that you’d always do what was needed, would always answer the late night calls and show up, but you looked elsewhere for friendship and support. 

It breaks his already shattered heart further to realise that you had gone through so many things he didn’t know about, stressful things, awful things, and he never even knew about any of them. Why would he? Not only didn’t you trust that he’d be there for you, you also no longer needed or even wanted to turn to him; you had other, better friends who were there for you. 

He feels a fool, all those times he thought you didn’t want to be around him because he was with a girl and it hurt you to see him with someone else, you were really just wanting to get back to your own dating life, your own boyfriends - a whole life and series of relationships Taehyung knew nothing about. All the time he thought you were in love with him, you were just being polite, nursing your own crushes, all without a word to him. 

He is so embarrassed when he learns that one time when he refused to eat for days after a particularly bad break up and Namjoon called you to help you’d had a boyfriend then. He’s horrified to realise that while you sat with him, feeding him cup noodles you’d made especially mild for him, just like that tteokbokki, that another man was sleeping in your bed, waiting for you to return. 

That night he had felt so loved, now he realises you must have been watching the minutes tick by, waiting until he was in a fit state so you could leave him and return to your own life. His face burns with humiliation. He feels such an idiot: a blind, stupid idiot, and he tells you as much.

“You’re not an idiot,” you say kindly, squeezing his hands. 

He squeezes back with a watery smile. He knows the time is rapidly approaching where he’ll need to loose his grip and let go of you, but right now he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to do it.

“I’m sorry to ask this,” he says carefully, “but if that’s how you felt, how you feel, then why did you, y’know, why did…” he struggles to be delicate.

As ever, you know him so well that you know what he means and when to rescue him from his struggles, “Why did I have sex with you?” you ask plainly, and you both laugh awkwardly.

Taehyung’s laugh is laced with pain though, your understanding is just another reminder of how well you know him and the contrast with how little he really knows you is unbearably painful.

“Is it ok to ask that?” he questions, gently. He is speaking so softly now, in his deepest, most breathy timbre. He dances around you like you’re some skittish wild creature that could dart away at anytime and he is terrified of you fleeing from him.

You blush slightly but nod, “Yeah, of course it is,” you reassure, “we’ve come this far, right?”

When you swallow your awkwardness you admit that you’ve always had a crush on him, ever since you were teenagers. He’s quick to interrupt to reassure you that it’s always been mutual, that some big, unspoken thing has always loomed over your friendship.

You smile gratefully, “After what happened at the party, I think I knew we were reaching the end of things for our friendship. Not just because of what happened, but because I was so tired of being that person for you at my own expense…” you pause as you think, and he just nods slightly in encouragement, “If I’m really honest, at the time I didn’t think about it. I had decided before you came over that I was done. I knew that we were going to end up going our separate ways and then, when you were there and when you kissed me the reality of that sunk in, I guess. I remember that I suddenly felt horribly sad, like kind of grief-stricken, that there was going to be this massive change in our lives and I just wanted to be close to you again.”

Taehyung smiles awkwardly, “Was it a pity fuck?” he winces, praying that it was anything but.

“Oh God no!” you exclaim, “Never! No, in that moment all the friendship we’ve shared and every feeling I’ve ever had for you and just overtook me and I couldn’t be close enough to you. Honestly, in that moment I’d have crawled inside your skin to be closer to you - I couldn’t get enough. I needed you so badly. Obviously, a fair whack of lust was in there too. I promise you that there was nothing fake about it! I didn’t do or say anything that wasn’t true and real at the time.”

Taehyung offers you a weak smile in thanks for your honesty, “If it hadn’t ended the way it did what would you have done? Would you have said it was all a mistake?”

You bite your lip, “I don’t know,” you admit.

“But you do think it was a mistake?” he presses.

“Yes, I do,” you admit, “but I think whatever had happened next, even if it hadn’t immediately gone wrong, it would have ended badly anyway. It just wouldn’t have worked out, I think it was inevitable.”

Taehyung is surprised by your pessimism; it’s the first thing you’ve said that doesn’t quite ring true. Still, when he studies your face you look genuine and he has to remind himself that he doesn’t know you as well as he thought he did.

“I’m still sorry that things went down that way,” he adds.

“I know,” you smile kindly, “It was shit that years of friendship almost ended that way.”

He’s confused, “Almost?”

You smile again, it’s the smile he loves the most. The reassuring smile that has always said, Trust me, Taehyung, I know best, everything is going to be ok. You nod, “Almost. This conversation happening now, this was the way our friendship should have ended. This is the end it deserves.”

You always choose your words carefully. Taehyung knows that and so your final word crushes the fragile hope that had begun to grow in his heart again: when you said ‘should have ended’ he hoped for a different outcome, a new chance, but then that present tense squashed all hope flat. 

‘The end it deserved’ would mean your friendship now needs a new ending, or no ending at all. ‘The end it deserves’ however is final. You are saying, as plain as day, that this conversation marks the end of your friendship with Taehyung. 

“I see,” he offers sadly, forcing himself to look at you, “I understand what you’re saying.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, “Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice cracking on the final syllable.

From there everything is a blur. You say your final words to each other, mundane excuses about the time and needing to get back to your friends, all of them are meaningless compared to what has been said. He finds he is unable to move and watches as you fix the mascara stains on your face and slip your shoes back on. Then, suddenly, you’re gone and Taehyung feels more alone than he ever has before.

He has no idea how much time passes, it could be minutes or hours, but then Jimin appears beside him. He knows you will have sought his friend out and directed him to Taehyung, knowing he’d be able to offer some comfort. It’s your final act of kindness, your final act of friendship.

Jimin says nothing, only sitting beside Taehyung, taking his hand in his and moving close enough that his friend can rest his tired head upon his shoulder and cry out the tears he has left.

PART FIVE: Let Go - Can either of you find peace?

“Why are we talking about this again?” you ask. You’re not annoyed, you rarely are with him, but you are confused, both by the questions and their repetition.

“Please could you just humour me?” Woosung implores.

You withdraw your legs from his lap and curl in on yourself on the couch. Mechanically you intone all the details of your conversation with Taehyung. You don’t omit, varnish or reframe one moment of the whole conversation. You tell him everything that happened exactly as you remember it, everything that Taehyung said and everything you said in response. You’ve done all of this before, from when you laid it all out straight after it happened and then many times more over the course of this weekend.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Woosung explains when you’ve finished.

“What doesn’t feel right?” You ask, a hint of worry creeping into your tone, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he reassures, a little flatly, “Of course not.”

“Well?” you ask, smiling nervously, “I know you, Woosung. We’ve been together long enough for me to know that you’re not telling the truth. You know what it is that doesn’t feel right to you but you’re not telling me. I don’t know why you won’t say, but if you’re going to keep asking me to go over this Taehyung thing again and again, you’re going to have to be more honest.”

You don’t get the reaction you expect. You thought he might frown in irritation at being called out, or even laugh it off. He doesn’t though, instead he simply looks at you sadly, his expression both a little lost and pained. There’s a strangeness in his look that you can’t place, but your body reacts instinctively, picking up on a threat your mind can’t decipher: your heart constricts and you feel the beginnings of panic.

“If I say it,” he begins, “I can’t take it back and it will become real.”

You’re more than a little panicked now as you worry about what may come next, “Then don’t say it,” you say, a little desperate yourself, “just put it from your mind and we’ll forget all about it.”

“I can’t. I think we have to do this,” he admits.

You shake your head sadly, “Where is this heading?” you ask, your voice strangled, “I suddenly have this awful feeling of dread… I really don’t like this. Can we just leave it and move on?”

He smiles at you, it’s meant to be reassuring but it’s too forced, and it has the opposite effect, causing your nerves to spike, “I feel it too. I’ve been feeling it since you spent all day yesterday crying while you processed what happened with him. If we don’t talk about it, it’ll come between us. You know it will,” he pauses, his eyes searching yours, looking for your consent for him to you on.

“I understand,” you finally offer, your voice meek and your eyes welling with tears. You feel like he’s leading the two of you to a precipice. It feels that the smallest misstep could cause you to slip and be lost over the edge.

“The way you were with Taehyung doesn’t make sense to me at all,” he begins, “everything about how you reacted to him and the things you said to him… I don’t know, it just seems to me like you do have feelings for him.”

“Woosung,” you state nervously, really not liking where the conversation is heading, “of course I have feelings for him. He was one of best friends for a long time. I’ll always love him in that way. But it’s not romantic love. It’s the kind of love someone has for a distant great aunt or something. I’ll think of him fondly, but I don’t want to spend time with him.”

“I think you’re the one not being honest now,” Woosung states plainly. You open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off, “Not deliberately, but I think you’re lying to yourself. I think you are in love with him. I think you always have been and you’ve always been too afraid to face it, just like him.”

You can only stare at him. Your whole body feels tense and so you get up off the couch, standing beside it and bouncing on your feet slightly to try and rid yourself of your nervous energy, “How am I supposed to defend myself against that?” you half-yell, half-groan, “Let me be clear - I think it’s absolute horseshit. I am not in love Taehyung and I never have been! But if you decide to believe that I’m in denial then there’s no way I can ever convince you, is there?”

Woosung says nothing and you feel your temperature rise, anger beginning to take over, “What’s the endgame here, hm?” you ask, gripping the back of the couch with one hand, your tone much colder than you would ever normally use with him, “What exactly is it that you’re trying to achieve?”

“I’ve pissed you off,” he says stating the obvious, “I didn’t mean to. But I guess I’m angry too. All those things he told you, all this fucking obvious love he has for you… Don’t you want that? All your teenage dreams come true? Don’t you want to be with him when he knows you so well and is as in love with you as any person could be?”

Your lip trembles, “My teenage dreams? You’re being ridiculous. I’m not some love-struck kid! How can you ask me that? I’m with you. You are my boyfriend and it’s you that I’m in love with. I thought you loved me?” Your voice cracks on the final question and a tear escapes. For the first time since Woosung told you he loved you, you doubt him.

“I do, but I can’t compete with him,” he says dully, retreating within himself.

You explode, all the pain of the last couple of days and your fear at Woosung’s behaviour coming together and bursting from you, “How is it a competition?” you almost shout, “We’re together, you and me, I am not with Taehyung. How is he coming between us right now? This is so silly, it’s all a big deal over nothing!”

Woosung bounds from the couch himself to face you as his anger begins to match your own. The couch now acting as a barrier between the two of you. “Now I know you’re lying!” he yells, “And if you can’t see that you’re lying to yourself and me, you’re being really stupid and you’re anything but… I can’t even fucking look at you right now,” he says looking at the ceiling.

“Why?” you fire back, “Why can’t you look at me?”

He glares at you with such open hostility that you flinch, it’s such a hard look that you take it for rage, not understanding that it’s pure, ugly jealousy, “Because even now, your eyes are still red and puffy because you spent an entire day crying over something you claim is ‘nothing’…” he spits sarcastically.

“I don’t understand what I am supposed to say,” you offer weakly. The flames of your anger are quelled; the blazing inferno of his anger has sucked all the oxygen from the room.

“Tell me you weren’t crying because you can’t have him. Tell me that you weren’t crying because you wish you chose him not me,” he challenges.

“Fuck, Woosung,” you huff in irritation, “There’s not a choice to be made - and if there were, I would always choose you!”

“You didn’t choose me when you fucked him! I know we weren’t together then, but I was in your life hanging around Jiho’s desperate to see you! It was fucking obvious that I liked you, but you were so fucking oblivious! Why? Because apparently you always are! Oblivious to how Taehyung really feels, oblivious to how you really fucking feel! God you and him really are made for each other - both of you as fucking clueless as the other!”

Woosung draws a quick breath before he continues on his rant, “Tell me honestly, what if he’d broken up with his girlfriend before he fucked you and confessed everything then? Would you have told him that you didn’t love him or would it be him and you here now instead of us? Except you two probably wouldn’t be arguing, would you? You’d be all snuggled up and speaking in that stupid fucking secret language of yours or fucking each other’s brains out,” he spits out.

You’re in shock. Your anger pounds away inside you and you want to scream back at him, but you won’t do it. You won’t make it worse. Your terror at the thought of losing him outweighs your anger, no matter how righteous it is.

“I’m sorry for the way I am,” you say carefully, not allowing anger to creep into your voice, “I am sorry that it took us so long to get together because I didn’t realise you liked me. I’m sorry that I am so slow to catch on. I don’t know what I am supposed to say. Taehyung said what he said. I said what I said. Then I came straight to you and I told you everything. I’m sorry that it isn’t good enough for you.”

Your words do nothing to soothe his fears, “So am I,” he says, “But can you just answer the question? If he didn’t fuck up after he fucked you, would you be with him now? Be honest with me.”

You do think about it before you answer him. You owe him that. You remember the night spent with Taehyung and you think of how it felt at the party, his hands in yours, as he opened his heart to you, “I don’t know,” you admit.

“If you don’t know whether or not you’d be with him now,” Woosung says, his voice sharp, “Then how can you say for certain that you don’t love him and never have?”

You meet his eyes and see the fury and pain swirling there and you know he’s right. You didn’t spend the whole of yesterday crying just because of the shock of Taehyung’s revelations. You know you were weeping for yourself too. Sometime yesterday, lost in your own tears, you began to suspect that one of the reasons that it felt as though your heart was breaking in your chest was because you might actually be in love with Taehyung. In fact, you’re beginning to suspect you do love him, and maybe that you always have. 

You’re not sure what the truth is yet, but to say you feel nothing is a lie: you won’t lie to Woosung. You can’t lie to him.

“Tell me you’re certain that you don’t live him,” he repeats.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“I knew it,” he exhales with hollow satisfaction.

“Does it really make any difference though?” you ask carefully, tiptoeing around his pain, “Imagine I did have feelings for him? What does it really matter? It’s all done. We’re not even friends anymore. It’s all over. You and I are together, aren’t we? It won’t come between us.”

He scoffs, “It’s coming between us right now… He’s coming between us. You’re not choosing me, you’re avoiding making a choice and sticking to what you know and what’s safe. I’m just the safety option.”

Your lip trembles, “That’s not true. I love you.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You also love him.”

You look at him hopelessly, “That is not what I’ve said! What can I say to make this better?”

“Nothing,” he says with a heavy sigh, “You can’t say a fucking thing,” he runs his hands through his hair in frustration as you look at him desperately.

“I need some air,” he says as he suddenly strides away from you, heading to the door and grabbing his keys and jacket. Without looking at you, he jams his feet into his shoes and then he’s gone. 

You know he won’t be back today, and you can’t help but fear he might never come back. You collapse to the floor and cry and cry and cry, without thought or understanding. All you know is that there is so much pain inside you and this is how it has to come out: I t’s too much to bear.

You’re so numb to everything that you don’t hear the knock at the door a little while later, nor the sound of the person letting themselves in, nor do you hear them call your name. You don’t react when gentle arms close around and lift you to the couch, pulling you into a comforting embrace while you let it all out.

“It’s ok, it’ll be ok,” he says soothingly, stroking your hair, “I saw Woosung in the parking garage, he didn’t say much but I guessed you guys fought, we can talk when you’re ready.”

You sniff, “Thank you for coming to check on me,” you say between tears, your voice thick.

“I guess it was about Taehyung?” Jiho asks and you nod, the tears flowing thicker.

“What a fucking mess, eh?” he sighs and you nod again.

“Cry it out,” he says, “Cry it out and then we’ll talk about it later and decide what to do.” 

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It’s two weeks before Woosung agrees to speak to you again. You meet at a restaurant, have an awkward dinner and, over two courses that you both pick at, barely eating, you agree that you need to move past this mess you’re in. 

By the time dessert arrives you are speaking more freely and there’s a gentle optimism between you that you can come back from that vicious argument and that you can get past everything that happened with Taehyung.

Later, after dinner, you lay beside each other in your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Woosung…” you say softly, your tone gentle and encouraging.

He doesn’t reply.

“Woo-” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he says numbly, “I don’t want the clichéd conversation that it happens to everyone at some point… I don’t want to hear it.”

You don’t look at him, knowing he’s embarrassed and that he doesn’t want you to, “I’m sorry,” you almost whisper, “I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong.”

That at least touches him, and his tone softens when he replies, “It’s not your fault that I can’t get it up,” he groans, humiliated.

You both say nothing for a moment. Woosung looks around the room, trying to take his mind off the awkwardness, or trying to think of what to say next, he’s not really sure. 

His gaze wanders unseeingly across your walls until it comes to rest on your dresser and a flame of anger sparks within him as he focuses on a framed photo of you on your birthday. Ostensibly, it’s a lovely photo of you and your best friend, Jiho, both laughing as he smooshes cake into your face. Yet over your shoulder, gazing at you lovingly is a clearly besotted Taehyung. Woosung’s blood boils. Unable to control his reaction, he snorts in frustration.

Already tense, his action is too much for you and you turn on your side to look at him, “Talk to me,” you beg.

“Can we actually get past this?” he asks, still not looking at you.

“Yes!” you reply fervently, “Of course we can.”

Finally he turns on his side to look at you. For a long moment you stare at each other. Gently you reach out to him and softly trace the rose tattoo on his collarbone. He shudders gently under your touch, but doesn’t recoil. A small smile fights it’s way into the corner of his mouth and he runs the back of his fingers across your cheek.

“I missed you so bad,” he admits, “I really do want to move on.”

You smile, grateful for his affection and warmth, “What can I do, what do you need from me?”

He shakes his head wearily, “You can tell me that you’d cry over me the way you do over him.”

“I have cried over you,” you say, a sharpness to your voice, “You just weren’t here to see it.”

He has the grace to look ashamed then, “I guess I deserved that,” he admits, but he can’t stop himself from pushing the point further, “You can promise me that you won’t realise one day that it’s him that you want and leave me. You can tell me you love me more than you love him…”

“In the two weeks you’ve ignored me, I haven’t spoken to Taehyung or seen him. It’s done with. What more can I tell you?”

Woosung groans, “Fuck, you could tell me a million fucking things, but none of them would help. Kim fucking Taehyung and his confession might have fucked us.”

“No, Woosung…” you say, not really sure how to feel. Part of you feels panicked that, just when you thought things were getting better, that he might be slipping from you again. Another part of you is simply tired, tired of the pain and tired of fighting for him.

“What’s that?” he asks, reading your expression, “What are you thinking?”

You don’t lie, “I’m tired of all of this,” you say, the tears spilling out, “I don’t know how to make it right and I am exhausted with trying to figure out what to do and always getting it wrong.”

Despite his obstinance, Woosung really does love you, and the sight of your tears is too much for him. He pulls you into his arms, kissing you on the forehead.

“I think we need a completely fresh start, my love,” he confesses as you snuggle into his hold. He can’t contain his grin as he feels you smile into his skin when he calls you his love, “What do you say?”

“I think you’re right,” you agree, as he pulls you closer.

The two of you entwine and settle comfortably while you both try to quieten your racing minds.

Just as you begin to drift off, Woosung whispers your name.

“Hm?” You hum sleepily.

“I love you,” Woosung whispers, squeezing you.

“I love you too,” you squeak back and it’s enough for him, for now at least.

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Taehyung rubs his eyes sleepily as he stumbles into the shower, ready to face the day. 

He stands motionless under the hot water, letting the warm spray wash over him as he runs through the day’s schedule in his mind and processes how much there is to do. Booked and busy: that’s the pattern of his days now. It’s what keeps him going through the darkness of his days and keeps his mind off the things that pain him.

It’s been a little over 4 months since Namjoon’s party when he gave you his heart and had it ripped apart and thrown back in his face. 

It’s been just about 4 months since he broke up with his girlfriend: yes, you may have broken his heart, but it was still undoubtedly, undeniably and irrevocably yours, so how could he go on seeing her? There was no hope for them. There’s no hope for anything.

And it’s been a week since his scorned and bitter ex spied him across a restaurant and sauntered over, clearly smug, clearly about to enjoy herself enormously. She interrupted his dinner with Jimin and Jungkook to tell him, in gleeful tones, that Woosung had moved back to LA and you’d gone with him. Jungkook’s guilty nod confirmed that he knew and hadn’t known how to break the news.

Yeah, it’s been a fucking great month.

Now though, spring is in the air, and as he washes his body he thinks about having a fresh start. He’s keeping himself busy, project after project, seeing his friends, seeing a therapist. He’s going to be ok. He’s not going to be the selfish man he once was. 

Taehyung is resolved that one day he’ll find love again. When he finds someone else, he’ll be honest with them and open. Then maybe one day he’ll be able to stop loving you. At least, that’s what he hopes for. He wishes he could hate you for hurting him, but he can’t. You behaved exactly as he expected you to. You always do the right thing no matter the cost to you, or to him. He wonders if the place you occupy in his heart will ever be erased by anyone else. He suspects not. In fact, he’s fairly certain that, even though you’ve never really been his, you have still been the greatest love of his life. You’re irreplaceable.

He’s still tortured by the one moment he thought you’d lied to him at Namjoon’s party; it loops in his head like a film reel. He knows you said it what happened between the two of you was a mistake, but he was sure you were lying. When he thinks of that night, nothing about it felt like a mistake. Why would you lie when you’d be so brutally honest about everything else? That moment, until it had gone wrong, had been the best time of his life. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the thought.

It’s too late though, because his body is already reacting to the memory of you. His hand slips between his legs and he wraps it around his hard cock and begins to stroke it lazily. His eyes close and your face and body flood his imagination as he recalls what it felt like to be inside you. His breath grows shallow as he rests his head against the tiles and moves his hand faster.

When he gets out the shower, he shakes his head into the towel, freeing himself from the water and the memories of you that cling to him. He tries, unsuccessfully as always, to put you from his mind as he sits naked on his bed, pulling his boxers up his legs, when his phone vibrates beside him.

He doesn’t recognise the number, but the beginning of the message makes his breath catch and he opens it quickly, almost dropping the phone in his haste:

Taehyung, I got your number from Namjoon. Hope that’s ok. We really need to talk. It’s important, I obvs wouldn’t contact you if it wasn’t. Are you free this weekend? It’s Woo Jiho btw.

Taehyung isn’t free, he rarely has more than half an hour unbooked, but he’ll make time. Fuck, if this is about you, he’ll cancel all his plans. 

His hand trembles slightly as he texts back. He holds his breath as he awaits the response.

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The plastic cover of the booth of the diner sticks uncomfortably to the backs of your legs. Spring has arrived unseasonably early and now you’re regretting your choice of clothing, wishing you’d opted for the trousers that lie strewn on your bed.

A quick glance of your phone tells you that Jiho is late and you roll your eyes. The waitress, impatient to take your order, arrives beside you and so you order coffee for you and him, firing him a text grumpily.

You are reconsidering the wording of your message, which is maybe a touch too snarky, just as a shadow is cast over the screen and your fingers pause in their corrections, “You took your time,” you grumble, deleting the text.

“Sorry,” Jiho smiles, “Traffic.”

You nod and then frown moments later, “Uh, are you going to sit?”

“Uh no,” he smiles, “I’ve booked us a karaoke booth. Really need to work some energy off, need to sing it out. Come on, let’s go.”

“Ok, ok, ok,” you acquiesce, as you always do. How can you deny him anything? Since Woosung realised there was no coming back for you too and ran half way around the world to get away from you, you’ve relied on Jiho more than most of your friends for support. In fact, he’s the only friend who knows everything that happened at Namjoon’s party and everything that’s happened since, “But I’ve ordered already.”

He flashes a winning smile at the waitress who smiles giddily back, “Can we get that order to go?” he calls in his most charming tones.

She nods and he wiggles his eyebrows smugly at you as you slide out of the booth, “You look nice, that’s good,” he compliments and you cuff him gently on the arm.

“You’re not to bad yourself,” you laugh, “Wait - you never comment on my clothes…”

He grins, “Maybe I’m just glad to see you out of stained, stinky sweats for a change.”

You cuff him harder as you collect the coffees and complain at him, even if you know he’s right, as he leads the way to the karaoke place.

When you get inside the small room it’s a pure assault on the senses, “Jesus, Jiho - could you have picked a pinker one?” you laugh. 

The room is garish, everything is in shades of pink and is heart-shaped, from the patterns on the walls to the fluffy rug to the seats around the central table.

“It was the only one left,” he winces, before grinning mischievously, “Or maybe I brought you here to confess?” he teases.

“That’ll go down well with your fiancée,” you say dryly as his face falls.

“Shit, I was supposed to call her about a wedding thing,” he grimaces, patting himself down, “and of course I’ve left my damn phone in the car… I’ll just go get it, I’ll be quick!” he explains as he rushes out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You simply laugh at his plight and put your jacket and bag on the hook. You smile to yourself as you hear the door open behind you, “That was quick, you haven’t lost it have you?” you ask.

“Lost what?”

You spin around so fast you almost lose balance, “Oh, what are you doing here?” you ask, slightly breathless, flushing at the rudeness of your blunt question.

“It was all Jiho’s idea,” Taehyung explains, looking awkward, “Is it ok that I’m here?”

“To sing karaoke with us?” you ask, puzzled, “Uh, yeah, I guess? I didn’t realise you guys were friends.”

“We’re uh-,” he hesitates, shifting awkwardly, “No, we’re not really, he called me a couple of weeks ago and we’ve been talking,” he explains.

“I see,” you say, narrowing your eyes, “I guess he’ll explain.”

Taehyung smiles uncomfortably and you notice he’s still stood very deliberately in front of the door, as if blocking your exit. He thinks I’ll run, you think and it’s only then that you realise what’s happening.

“So, you and Jiho? He called you? That surprises me,” you say, prying to check your suspicions are correct.

“Because he can’t stand me?” Taehyung prompts with an awkward smile.

“I wouldn’t put it that way…” you say, it seems it’s now your turn to be embarrassed.

“I would,” he smiles, “I think the words ‘You know I can’t stand you, Taehyung, but this isn’t about me’ were a bit of a giveaway.”

You laugh uncomfortably before you pick apart his words, “Who’s it about it if isn’t about Jiho?”

“You,” Taehyung says, as though it’s obvious, “who else matters?”

You cock your head and he’s quick to elaborate, “I mean, who else connects us? Who else matters to him and me?” you’re surprised and touched to see him blushing.

“Jiho isn’t coming back, is he?” you ask, almost rhetorically. In the back of your mind you make a note to praise Jiho for his acting skills, after you’ve finished telling him off, of course.

“He isn’t,” Taehyung confirms, licking his lips nervously. Your eyes follow his movements more closely than you’d like, your gaze lingering on his slick lips.

“How are you?” he asks; he’s cautious and endearingly uncertain. You feel the need to hug him but you resist the urge.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you say dismissively, trying to sound airy, “Same old, same old. You?” you cringe at how unnaturally high your voice is suddenly, noticing your palms are moist and your heart beats too fast in your chest.

Taehyung smirks at the effect he has on you and you hate how pathetic you are and how attractive you find him. Even more you hate how that smirk stirs a feeling deep within your core. Fuck this stupidly hot man, you think.

“I’ve been busy,” he says honestly, “It’s been a hard time since we last saw each other, when we, well, you know, you were there… and I broke up with -, well, we broke up, and I’ve been working through things. Trying to be a better man,” he smiles awkwardly, struggling to speak to you, overcome with nerves. He weaves his head side to side slightly in the cute way he does, so shy, so adorable.

His words spark a memory and without thinking, you smile as you recall his impression of Jack Nicholson in As Good as it Gets. Immediately you’re mortified that you’ve smiled and you look at him apologetically, but as you open your mouth to explain, he simply grins back as though he’s read your mind.

“You make me want to be a better man,” he says: it’s by no means an accurate impression but you both laugh anyway.

“I’m sorry you broke up,” you say when your laugh has tailed off, “That must’ve been hard.”

“Not really,” he admits, “I’m in love with someone else, after all.”

You look at each other for a moment. He wonders if you pay as close attention to word choice as he hopes you do. He watches the use of the present tense sink in with you, and realises that you do as your jaw tightens and your breath quickens, “I was sorry to hear about you and Woosung though,” he says softly.

You’re completely unsettled; you feel thrown off-kilter somehow, your thoughts racing around your mind. You have no ability to think things through, you can only rely on instinct, “Are you?” you say, trying at least to sound lighthearted. As soon as you say it, you regret it. Are you flirting with Taehyung? What are you thinking?

“No, not really,” he says, his voice at his deepest. His head is slightly tilted and he looks at you through heavily lidded eyes. Somehow in this short exchange he seems to have moved much nearer to you and you realise you’ve both been closing the distance between you.

You move to step closer to him but hesitate, drawing your foot back as the tiny amount of rational thought you have left tries to maintain some control over the instincts of your body.

“Do it,” Taehyung commands, watching your every movement as he steps closer to you, “Let go.”

You do. As Taehyung’s arms move around your waist, you throw your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. One kiss turns into another as he walks you backwards until he’s able to lift you onto the table, easing himself between your legs. He presses himself against you, his bulge hardening as his tongue slips into your mouth. He moans deeply as your legs close around him, pulling him closer, your hands tangling in his hair as your tongue flicks against his.

There it is again, who knew the rhythm of a kiss could matter so much? It never has to him before. Now though, with you, the connection between the two of you feels like a perfectly choreographed dance. He knows that he’ll never get bored of it.

When you break apart for air, you giggle and beam at each other before he attacks your neck with open mouthed kisses and a sharp nip. It causes you to moan breathily, drawing a grunt of desire from him as he grinds into you needily.

“Please desist in your inappropriate behaviour, Room 12,” echoes a detached voice through the booth and you break apart guiltily, both blushing at the CCTV camera in the corner and the little speaker beside it. You ease off the table and you both bow in embarrassment at the camera as you adjust your clothes guiltily.

When you turn to look at each other, you’re both flushed, lips red and puffy as you smile together shyly.

“Will you give me a chance?” he asks, his eyes wide and hopeful, his voice shaking slightly with vulnerability, “I won’t fuck it up. I promise. I love you so fucking much. I’ll do anything, just give me a chance, please.”

You take both his hands in yours, and he squeezes your hands in return, “Taehyung,” you say seriously, “If I give you a chance, will you give me everything?”

He kisses the top of your head, “It’s already yours,” he breathes into your hair, and you feel the relief spread through him as his tense body relaxes.

When he steps back, you freeze. You’re aware something momentous has just happened and you haven’t even begun processing it. Only this morning you faced another black day, forcing yourself to pull those disgusting sweats Jiho mentioned off your body and clambering sluggishly into the shower to wash the grime, sadness and pain from you after weeks of mourning your love, best friend and partner-in-crime.  That’s not even mentioning the misery of coming to terms with the fact that Woosung was none of those things, not really, and that in reality, you were grieving Taehyung, the never-realised love of your life, a love so deep and never explored. 

This morning you’d planned the day out. You’d force yourself to make an effort, to smile and to look halfway decent but only for Jiho, only to stop him worrying about you, you owe him that much. But, when the day was done, you had every intention of getting back into those sweats and the miserable safety of your bed the second you got home. Now everything has changed and you’re waiting for the world to balance on its axis once more.

When you pull yourself from your reverie you notice Taehyung is eyeing you cautiously and you wonder how long you’ve been lost in your thoughts.

You shrug your shoulders nervously, “So… wanna sing some karaoke?” you ask and feel stupid as soon as you’ve said it, laughing awkwardly.

“Not in the least,” he scoffs before nervous vulnerability creeps in yet again, “Uh, Will you come home with me? We have so much to talk about... Would that be ok?”

You nod, blushing furiously as he dazzles you with his relieved, boxy smile.

“Great, let’s go!” he enthuses as he grabs your jacket and bag from the hook. 

He catches you by the hand and leads you to the door, but when his grip closes around the handle he hesitates and looks back at you.

“When you said you regretted what happened between us that night, that was a lie, right?” he asks, seeking certainty, needing to know.

You nod your head, “I didn’t really know it was at the time, but yeah, it was. It wasn’t the biggest lie I told though - I’ve told myself bigger,” you admit.

His breath catches and as he almost whispers his response, “What was that?” he asks, hoping desperately that you’ll say what he would give anything to hear.

You step closer to him as you usher him through the door, avoiding making eye contact as you confess, “That I’ve never loved you.”

As soon as you’re in the hallway, he turns and pulls you into his arms in a suffocating hug, “Because you really do love me, right?” he asks, his voice just as broken and pleading as it was at Namjoon’s party.

“I do,” you admit breathlessly as he sobs and laughs simultaneously in pure relief and joy into your hair.

When he recovers himself, he pulls back and looks at you softly, “I know you’ve said you’ll give me a chance but you have to know that you’re everything I want, that I just want you to be mine. I can wait, I will wait until you’re ready, but I need you to be mine always,” he confesses in one breath.

“I already am,” you admit, echoing his words. 

“I love you,” he says simply, holding his breath and a universe of hope in his chest. He knows you’ve admitted it, but it’s not quite the same as saying it.

“I love you too,” you smile, saying the words he’s waited so long to hear, “I love you, Taehyung.”

With a wide smile seemingly glued on his face, his fingers laced unbreakably with yours, he leads you through the dark hallway and out into the light.

Author’s note: Thank you for reading, I’d love to hear what you think!

<<< BACK TO MASTERLIST

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Here's to any writer being hated upon or received with words as such " I've read better" from fellow readers.

Here's a message to those readers- we love nonetheless, it'd be a pity to not offer our love to you, however here's something I suppose you should know before saying" it isn't that good "

1. These writers spend hours researching, trying to find the very suitable phrase like "anche le stelle non riescono a capire il mio amore per te" ( even the stars can't fathom my love for you ) or researching about theories about love or Greek mythologies like those of Zeus or even talking about certain theories like ship of Theseus or trying to find the best way to possibly make the writing sound elegant, worth reading even though sometimes they know that whatever they write, people might not enjoy it.

2. They spend hours framing a scenario in their head while they watch out of the window from that of a bus or while blankly staring at the wall, even enacting dialogue, or thinking of what to write over a request they received on the dinner table while they slowly chew away the smaller portions of their food.

3. Editing. That is the most tedious of all, editing and re-editing like three times and even then somehow they miss certain words, wrongly use a single word because they had that word in their head. And all those writers who had cover picture or even a postable fan art, they spend away minutes to hours looking for that one saved pin on theirs Pinterest board that they know would go along with it so well.

4. For all those who write on notes, and then add over Tumblr, it's one of the worst things ever but they have to keep a safety net because what if they wrote the draft and the internets weird and suddenly when it's time to save, it doesn't save and the whole thing is lost. The pain of writing first draft and losing the entire work is like someone spilling tea over your entire homework and now it's drenched with all the ink everywhere and you've Only an hour to submit it. It feels like that.

5. And writing the begining and the ending. One may even have the most perfect ending,and yet somehow to work on making the begining intriguing enough for people do read it, it's something entirely different of an agony. Or either way,they may have the perfect beginning, yet somehow not the perfect ending and there's no one more disappointed than them in their own self when they can't find the so called perfect beginning and ending.

6. And lastly, when they receive disliking comments, or comments that say" I've read better " of course you have, they're still progressing , they're doing the best of their ability, taking out 2-3 hours from their day to write what you Just read from the busy schedule, putting away their work ( writing ) to the end of the day, sacrificing a little of their sleep time to give reader's the work they've written in hopes that there is someone somewhere sitting having a hard time and their writing is the only thing that makes them happy or someone desperately waiting for it's second part because the writers owe it to them. And comments as such, sometimes not only discourage them but it's nags them all day..

So before you hate on Someone, keep yourself in their shoes and imagine what must it feel like to receive such comments after you've worked long enough to write something like that.

Yet, they wholeheartedly love you because you took out time from your day to read something which you didn't necessarily enjoy but read it anyways because you wanted to see how it ends, these writers still respect your opinion and are still thankful for your read.

Hope this makes the fellow writers feel slightly better because if there's no one in the world, I'm your biggest fan and I'll stay till the end and support you because you deserve it.

For @drarrily-we-row-along @lyssarose @dearly-devoted-dawdler @l0vegl0wsinthedark @slytherco @drarrywords @phoebedelia @slytherinnbitch @lou-isfake @drarry-is-my-therapy @rockingrobin69 @sitp-recs @ladderofyears @railmeharrypotter @toms-diary @bubble-gumhead

Add all those writers who needs to read this because they deserve all the love in the world !

WHY DOESN'T IT HAVE MORE NOTES !!!!!!!!!!

burning stars

if i could reach out a hand into the cosmos,

i would pluck out a shining star just for you.

maybe it would be enough, to give you part of me,

a rock burning with as much passion as i feel.

always feeling, but never saying.

if i could make up for every thing i am not,

would you love me for all that i long to be?

would sharing my galaxy help you to see,

that i wish you could be mine?

for an eternity i would pick out stars for you,

as long as your eyes looked in mine.

you know that i would give them all to you,

just to see you shine,

even as my sky grows dimmer because of it.

the blinding-red gleam of love burns us all,

but at least your eyes will be filled with my stars.

(tags under the cut, lmk if you want to join my poetry taglist!)

@sizzlingdazebear @thecollapsingneutron @randomlimelightxxx @mais-e @johermione @star-dust-2317 @poseidonsarmoury

My dear incredible people @drarrywords and @harryandginnydeservesbetter thanks for tagging me, you guys are great.

I'll add a few people I know who haven't already been mentioned despite I should tag all who have already been tagged- @slytherinnbitch @slytherco @corvuscrowned @written-in-ash @poljupci @ladderofyears and all the rest I know and everyone else who writes too. Y'all deserve to know you're tremendous 💜

reblog to send your writer friends a pat on the back and to let them know you're proud of them. a tremendous writer. you got this

I realised today how much we put ourselves into our own writings, be it a mere fascination of something we once had, be it our most rational fear or traumas, but I'm in love with the saying "we put a piece of ourselves into our works." Our works resonates us, in every sense of these words. We actually put too many pieces of ourselves, fragments of our past in every character we write, in every action of a role into our works and it amazes me because more often than not we don't realise just how much we do that. We know in the back of our heads that it is exactly how we'd do it but we never learn the courage to say it out loud if not embodied in someone else in writing and the whole time we end up looking for pieces of our own selves. We leave shreds into our works because maybe a part of us is afraid to let those things out because we're afraid what would happen if we did say it out loud.

It's that we leave homes in what we write, we create home in every story/fiction/fanfiction/book/art we've ever written or worked on and even if we may never look back at it again, we know it's still there, that home still exists. The idea of our works being our first home is one of the most beautiful thing ever.

@anjaspace ANJA <3

If you give me the go, I swear I will gush over anything and EVERYTHING. Literally not me and Kate (@ferrariwrites) gushing over our idiots in love, feel free to join our bandwagon haha.

CONTEMPORARY !! ROMANCE !! COMING OF AGE !! that literally checks all the boxes for MEEEE

Oh, gosh. Another horror lover, I can't stomach it! 😂 I feel awful when people talk to me about it and I'm just like listen: I respect you so much for reading/watching horror, but it's not for me lmaooo

devil number 4 !! I've been thinking about checking that webtoon out! Also been enraptured with your smile is a trap (webtoon), all the fluff haha

AWWWW RAFI BETTER BE OKAY ): but also, things will change for the better ;) love life wise pfft

me, desperate for some writer friends/mutuals

hi everyone!

this is just a post where writers get to know writers, and hopefully through reblogs/comments we can find more people who not only read/write our genre, but just people who have similarities with us.

it's kind of a simple "get to know me" post, and anyone can join <3

feel free to tag your mutuals and reblog !!

name: genres you like to write in: genres you like to read in + fav books/media: favorite line from your current wip:

name: ave

genres you like to write in: currently writing contemporary (ya/romcom/romance, give me them ALL), but I also like to dabble in fantasy!

genres you like to read in + fav books/media: i'll consume literally anything haha. Fantasy, mystery, historical fiction, romance, young adult, you name it. I'm awful with horror, though ;-;

percy jackson (MY CHILDHOOD), harry potter (OBVIOUSLY), Better Than the Movies, From Lukov with Love, The Love Hypothesis, These Violent Delights, the list goes on...

favorite or latest line from your current wip: [latest line, because what a mood- from Destination Seoul] Ha. Per usual, the universe hates me.