multiple choice
title: multiple choice
author: knotweed
characters: taehyung/yoongi
rating: r
length: 1.1k
summary: taehyung is so giving, forgiving, and yoongi almost feels guilty when he realizes they don’t know each other at all. or: variations on a theme.
-
“So little of what could happen does happen.”
- Salvador Dalí
-
a) Yoongi doesn’t kiss Taehyung at the after-party. He doesn’t get drunk off of cheap vodka that smells like rubbing alcohol and lean against Taehyung, heavy and daring, doesn’t trace down the bridge of Taehyung’s nose with broad fingers, doesn’t stare at Taehyung’s eyelashes when Taehyung blinks. Yoongi doesn’t fall in love so easily.
There isn’t a secret tryst between them that night because they are not pressed up against each other on the plush couch, faces so close that Yoongi can see the freckles that have started to bloom on Taehyung’s tanned cheeks. The lights aren’t dimmed. They are oceans away and strangers to both each other and the country, and Yoongi doesn’t have to prove himself to anybody.
When Taehyung looks at him from across the room, Yoongi freezes. Yoongi’s hands are sticky from cake frosting and he’s lost his tie a few hours ago. The gel in his hair has started to flake. He doesn’t wave back when Taehyung waves at him and spends the rest of the night wondering why he feels so guilty.
-
b) Yoongi doesn’t kiss Taehyung at the after-party because Yoongi does not like people who are mazes. Somewhere along the night they had both ended up migrating to the couch, pressed up against each other in a dimmed, unbearably hot room, and Yoongi can smell the vodka on Taehyung’s breath. Yoongi absentmindedly considers counting the freckles that have bloomed on Taehyung’s cheeks from the hot summer sun, then wonders if maybe that would make a good lyric. The words are a jumbled mess in his head: distance, skin, freckles, stars, constellations-Yoongi blames it on being so close to Taehyung and doesn’t feel guilty at all when he pulls away from the boy to help Hoseok and Seokjin in finishing the cake.
-
c) Yoongi kisses Taehyung at the after-party. When Yoongi pulls away, Taehyung looks terribly unsure of himself. They weren’t close, one step up from virtual strangers, but Yoongi thinks he has a good enough handle on what Taehyung is like-opened and closed, sometimes unbearably shy.
“Hyung?” Taehyung ventures quietly but Yoongi shushes him by tracing the side of Taehyung’s jaw with broad fingers. Pressed so close against him, Yoongi can see the way Taehyung’s heavy, long eyelashes flutter against his lightly freckled cheeks; he wonders if Taehyung can smell the vodka on his breath.
“Are you worried about someone seeing us?” Yoongi whispers.
Taehyung hesitates, then unconvincingly shakes his head no. Yoongi laughs. He deliberately slides his hand up the inside seam of Taehyung’s trousers.
“Everyone’s drunk,” Yoongi murmurs into Taehyung’s ear, watching the boy shiver. He feels daring. “We’re oceans away from home. Barely anyone knows us. Who’s going to care?” Taehyung doesn’t answer but covers Yoongi’s hand on his thigh with his own.
Coaxing Taehyung up to an empty room upstairs was like coaxing a frightened animal. His skin is almost unbearably hot as Yoongi fucks deep into him, hotter than any star, a heavenly body in Yoongi’s hands. Taehyung moans so, so prettily, musically, tightly clutching at Yoongi’s nape to keep him close and peppering his shoulders with kisses. Yoongi comes inside the condom and jacks Taehyung off, wiping his hand on the sheets.
“You should’ve been more careful,” Yoongi informs him after. “These marks will take forever to fade.”
Taehyung flushes, curling up into himself, reaching for the blanket.
“I know,” he says, voice wrecked, “I’m sorry. It sounds stupid but I was afraid you’d leave.”
Yoongi stares at the bruises blooming on Taehyung’s hips and feels like a hypocrite.
-
d) Yoongi kisses Taehyung at the after-party and instantly regrets it. He pulls back immediately, as if mere distance could erase the instance of the kiss.
“Hyung?” Taehyung’s voice is questioning, musical, open. Yoongi hates it.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi apologizes, words slurring from too much vodka. He feels wrecked. His hair gel is starting to melt from the unbearably hot room. His fingers are still sticky from the cake Hoseok forced him to eat with his hands earlier.
“What for?”
“I’m not what you want,” Yoongi answers. “I can’t be what you want.”
Taehyung puts on a brave face and says, “You don’t know what I want.” Yoongi pretends not to hear his voice waver.
-
e) Yoongi kisses Taehyung after the after-party in their hotel room. They take their time. Yoongi traces the bridge of Taehyung’s nose with trembling fingers, kisses every tiny freckle that manifested on his cheeks after the hot summer sun, mouths along the side of Taehyung’s jaw. Taehyung’s breathy gasps and moans and sighs must’ve sounded more beautiful than the music of the spheres. They are a jumbled mess in the sheets, Yoongi deep and slow inside him, Taehyung’s heels digging into the small of his back, Taehyung tight and hot around his cock. Supernovas burst behind his eyes. Taehyung is so giving, forgiving, and Yoongi almost feels guilty when he realizes they don’t know each other at all.
-
f) Yoongi doesn’t kiss Taehyung at the after-party. He writes a song about it; the words are a jumbled mess in his head and slapdash on paper. Yoongi agonizes about the song for weeks and all he can think about are distance, skin, freckles, stars, constellations.
None of it quite made sense. Just as well-Taehyung had never made sense to him in the first place.
-
g) Yoongi kisses Taehyung at the after-party. Both of them know it’s a mistake but it’s so hard because Yoongi is so drunk off of cheap vodka that smells like rubbing alcohol and Taehyung is pressed so close to him that Yoongi can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and Taehyung is so beautiful that Yoongi just wants to reach out and touch, wants to map out his body like a constellation.
The lights in the room are dimmed but Yoongi can see the hesitation on Taehyung’s face.
“I know I can’t be what you want,” Yoongi begins but Taehyung shushes him by cupping the side of his cheek.
“You don’t know what I want,” Taehyung murmurs into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, voice dipping low like warm honey. Yoongi wonders if that would make a good lyric. You don’t know what I want. The way Taehyung had said it was soft and sweet but the words themselves were frank and bitter. I can’t be what you want. He thinks about all the songs that have ever failed to come out of his head and imagines bruises blooming on Taehyung’s hips from where he gripped them too tightly and remembers how Taehyung was both opened and closed.
Everything, Yoongi eventually decides, was just a different permutation of the same thing. He leans in, guiltily closing the distance in between their bodies, listening to Taehyung breathe in time with the music of the spheres, and wonders if anything would change after this. No one knew anyone at all.
author: knotweed
characters: taehyung/yoongi
rating: r
length: 1.1k
summary: taehyung is so giving, forgiving, and yoongi almost feels guilty when he realizes they don’t know each other at all. or: variations on a theme.
-
“So little of what could happen does happen.”
- Salvador Dalí
-
a) Yoongi doesn’t kiss Taehyung at the after-party. He doesn’t get drunk off of cheap vodka that smells like rubbing alcohol and lean against Taehyung, heavy and daring, doesn’t trace down the bridge of Taehyung’s nose with broad fingers, doesn’t stare at Taehyung’s eyelashes when Taehyung blinks. Yoongi doesn’t fall in love so easily.
There isn’t a secret tryst between them that night because they are not pressed up against each other on the plush couch, faces so close that Yoongi can see the freckles that have started to bloom on Taehyung’s tanned cheeks. The lights aren’t dimmed. They are oceans away and strangers to both each other and the country, and Yoongi doesn’t have to prove himself to anybody.
When Taehyung looks at him from across the room, Yoongi freezes. Yoongi’s hands are sticky from cake frosting and he’s lost his tie a few hours ago. The gel in his hair has started to flake. He doesn’t wave back when Taehyung waves at him and spends the rest of the night wondering why he feels so guilty.
-
b) Yoongi doesn’t kiss Taehyung at the after-party because Yoongi does not like people who are mazes. Somewhere along the night they had both ended up migrating to the couch, pressed up against each other in a dimmed, unbearably hot room, and Yoongi can smell the vodka on Taehyung’s breath. Yoongi absentmindedly considers counting the freckles that have bloomed on Taehyung’s cheeks from the hot summer sun, then wonders if maybe that would make a good lyric. The words are a jumbled mess in his head: distance, skin, freckles, stars, constellations-Yoongi blames it on being so close to Taehyung and doesn’t feel guilty at all when he pulls away from the boy to help Hoseok and Seokjin in finishing the cake.
-
c) Yoongi kisses Taehyung at the after-party. When Yoongi pulls away, Taehyung looks terribly unsure of himself. They weren’t close, one step up from virtual strangers, but Yoongi thinks he has a good enough handle on what Taehyung is like-opened and closed, sometimes unbearably shy.
“Hyung?” Taehyung ventures quietly but Yoongi shushes him by tracing the side of Taehyung’s jaw with broad fingers. Pressed so close against him, Yoongi can see the way Taehyung’s heavy, long eyelashes flutter against his lightly freckled cheeks; he wonders if Taehyung can smell the vodka on his breath.
“Are you worried about someone seeing us?” Yoongi whispers.
Taehyung hesitates, then unconvincingly shakes his head no. Yoongi laughs. He deliberately slides his hand up the inside seam of Taehyung’s trousers.
“Everyone’s drunk,” Yoongi murmurs into Taehyung’s ear, watching the boy shiver. He feels daring. “We’re oceans away from home. Barely anyone knows us. Who’s going to care?” Taehyung doesn’t answer but covers Yoongi’s hand on his thigh with his own.
Coaxing Taehyung up to an empty room upstairs was like coaxing a frightened animal. His skin is almost unbearably hot as Yoongi fucks deep into him, hotter than any star, a heavenly body in Yoongi’s hands. Taehyung moans so, so prettily, musically, tightly clutching at Yoongi’s nape to keep him close and peppering his shoulders with kisses. Yoongi comes inside the condom and jacks Taehyung off, wiping his hand on the sheets.
“You should’ve been more careful,” Yoongi informs him after. “These marks will take forever to fade.”
Taehyung flushes, curling up into himself, reaching for the blanket.
“I know,” he says, voice wrecked, “I’m sorry. It sounds stupid but I was afraid you’d leave.”
Yoongi stares at the bruises blooming on Taehyung’s hips and feels like a hypocrite.
-
d) Yoongi kisses Taehyung at the after-party and instantly regrets it. He pulls back immediately, as if mere distance could erase the instance of the kiss.
“Hyung?” Taehyung’s voice is questioning, musical, open. Yoongi hates it.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi apologizes, words slurring from too much vodka. He feels wrecked. His hair gel is starting to melt from the unbearably hot room. His fingers are still sticky from the cake Hoseok forced him to eat with his hands earlier.
“What for?”
“I’m not what you want,” Yoongi answers. “I can’t be what you want.”
Taehyung puts on a brave face and says, “You don’t know what I want.” Yoongi pretends not to hear his voice waver.
-
e) Yoongi kisses Taehyung after the after-party in their hotel room. They take their time. Yoongi traces the bridge of Taehyung’s nose with trembling fingers, kisses every tiny freckle that manifested on his cheeks after the hot summer sun, mouths along the side of Taehyung’s jaw. Taehyung’s breathy gasps and moans and sighs must’ve sounded more beautiful than the music of the spheres. They are a jumbled mess in the sheets, Yoongi deep and slow inside him, Taehyung’s heels digging into the small of his back, Taehyung tight and hot around his cock. Supernovas burst behind his eyes. Taehyung is so giving, forgiving, and Yoongi almost feels guilty when he realizes they don’t know each other at all.
-
f) Yoongi doesn’t kiss Taehyung at the after-party. He writes a song about it; the words are a jumbled mess in his head and slapdash on paper. Yoongi agonizes about the song for weeks and all he can think about are distance, skin, freckles, stars, constellations.
None of it quite made sense. Just as well-Taehyung had never made sense to him in the first place.
-
g) Yoongi kisses Taehyung at the after-party. Both of them know it’s a mistake but it’s so hard because Yoongi is so drunk off of cheap vodka that smells like rubbing alcohol and Taehyung is pressed so close to him that Yoongi can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and Taehyung is so beautiful that Yoongi just wants to reach out and touch, wants to map out his body like a constellation.
The lights in the room are dimmed but Yoongi can see the hesitation on Taehyung’s face.
“I know I can’t be what you want,” Yoongi begins but Taehyung shushes him by cupping the side of his cheek.
“You don’t know what I want,” Taehyung murmurs into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, voice dipping low like warm honey. Yoongi wonders if that would make a good lyric. You don’t know what I want. The way Taehyung had said it was soft and sweet but the words themselves were frank and bitter. I can’t be what you want. He thinks about all the songs that have ever failed to come out of his head and imagines bruises blooming on Taehyung’s hips from where he gripped them too tightly and remembers how Taehyung was both opened and closed.
Everything, Yoongi eventually decides, was just a different permutation of the same thing. He leans in, guiltily closing the distance in between their bodies, listening to Taehyung breathe in time with the music of the spheres, and wonders if anything would change after this. No one knew anyone at all.