TAEKOOK / TIGER LILY

22.

pre-warning: smut

Later that evening, when they've grown tired of smashing things, and Jungkook takes Taehyung to his room — through the window, of course — he pauses on his way to leave. Taehyung is stood by the lemon vanity, aimlessly prying off his rings and miscellaneous jewellery, and Jungkook watches the smooth scope of his back, bent out like a marble sculpture.

Taehyung waits with a slightly bated breath, already anticipating the question.

"What did you think about?" Jungkook asks him, out right and distinctly pastel — gossamer, despite the heavy subject matter.

The older boy blinks deftly into the mirror and gulps down a wad of saliva. Without peering over, he flips the question, "what were you thinking about?"

Jungkook falters for a moment, resisting the urge to sink into his growing frustration, as he allows himself to realise that he's not comfortable answering the question either. Not really. Not properly. So how on earth should he expect Taehyung to answer his?

It aches. Jungkook can't help but feel the ache of the universe in his lithe stomach, as the butterflies turn rampant in their desperation to reach the hub of oxygen in his lungs. He looks at the silhouette of the other, and he can think of nothing but despair — he wants to be with him, badly. He wants to interlace the strings of their hearts together, and connect them in a silken bow. Yet, he feels his blue blood shall corrupt the other's pink daydreams, and he cannot bring himself to taint him. He can't.

Yet, staring at him now, all diaphanous in his pale gold hues, stood beside the countertop, breathing so nicely, he can't help but wonder if Taehyung wouldn't mind. He sees the smudges of orange pumpkin seeds against the boy's white shirt, and he can't help but envision how he'd looked as he pounded into it — so angry, so wild, so perfect.

And so, Jungkook, foolhardy and desperate, takes a step toward him that shifts the floorboards, seems the creak across the entire barn, and he gently replies, "I thought about my foster parents."

Taehyung semi-gulps, and his head shakes, dips down to stare at the table, as he responds, "what about them?"

The back of Jungkook's teeth grit, but he forces himself to be calm and composed, as he tells him, "about how much they're going to kick me out soon." He scratches the back of his neck, and earnestly tells him, "I'm eighteen now, so they're not gonna want me anymore." Taehyung's breath falters for a minute, and he tastes something salty on his lip. Jungkook hardly has time to think, before the words are spilling from his lip, and he's telling him, "I'm not gonna get them any more government-money, so they don't need me."

He sees the boy's hands grip at the wooden furniture, steadying himself from the blood-curdling admittance. Jungkook can almost see into his heart, can see it slosh around his rib cage, as he comes to realise just what he's gotten into.

"That's..." Taehyung can hardly find the words, as his voice scratches out, "that's horrible. I'm so—"

"I'm sorry." Jungkook interrupts, in a hoarse tone, and he takes a few steps back, and the whole house churns with them. He slips toward the window, eyes still trained on Taehyung, and he only stops when the other exhales harshly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Honestly, I'm glad to be away from them. It just solidifies what I already knew. They adopted me for the money. That's it."