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Prologue: Red Heat
"Wouldn't it be easier for you Kim?" Jeongguk snarls, even white canines poke into his plush bottom lip as his smirk hooks at Taehyung's frown.
Taehyung hates how he towers over him in his stupidly thick heeled platform boots.
Like a fuckin menace.
Maybe for someone staring at them from a different angle, Jeon Jeongguk is a god; a wrathful one, chiselled back and hands at ease with the power everyone knows he possesses.
Taehyung's well worn converse is no match for it although he knows Jeongguk barely has two or three extra inches on him every time he tries to intimidate Taehyung in the empty school corridors whenever he feels like.
Although Taehyung always has his guards up in the boy's communal but Jeongguk is irreformable.
And Jeongguk's other favourite haunts might be: the metallic lockers in the locker room and the pathetically abandoned classroom that's more of an attic where he goes occasionally to smoke despite knowing that Jeongguk knows he might be there.
If he has more, Taehyung earnestly wishes not to know.
So it is no different today when Jeongguk suddenly body checks him into the washroom tiles.
Can Taehyung even call these encounters sudden anymore?
He doesn't bother pushing Jeongguk off or spit at him.
They are past that childish phase where throwing mud and sticks at your enemies face and tackling them on the ground or pant shedding them in front of general public eyes used to be a big deal.
Taehyung always wore belts anyway.
But they are over that....aren't they?
Or maybe Taehyung hopes that Jeongguk is over that.
They have grown up. They are changed somehow: it is a fact. And their ways of expressing their animosity against each other has changed too.
It's some sort of a metamorphosis. Just like butterflies; not never ending but a really long-ass transformation process; ever changing.
Taehyung's flinch has turned into a merely upturned scowl when Jeongguk yanks him towards his chest, sturdy tattooed palms clenching around the material of Taehyung's tee shirt.
It is familiar; his touch, those warm hands and cold eyes.
"No wonder a pushover like you has always been a lesser alpha."
And his words still try their best to cut too. All jagged and edgy, they ram into Taehyung---viciously knowledgeable over the fact that they're meant to injure, to curve into his core; to make him bleed.
