hanahaki ⚣ taekook

- 3

after that, it all inevitably goes to shit.

they're in the lounge of an airport somewhere, spread eagle across the chairs and the sofas and he thinks seokjin is on the goddamn floor. taehyung's fussing over his goddamn scarf, certain that roasting in the fiery pits of hell feels about the same as the way it's choking him.

sejin-hyung finally comes back as their flight begins boarding, and taehyung stands with the rest, stopping briefly where jungkook's still sitting to give him a swift kick on the leg. you know, to tell him to get moving. not because he wanted his attention, or anything.

"i'm going, i'm going," jungkook whines without looking up from his screen.

taehyungnudges his leg again, and jungkook half-heartedly swipes after him, catch taehyung's leg and holding it in place as he continues scrolling.

jerking his knee out of his grasp to lightly nudge at jungkook's cheek, taehyung grumbles, "don't ignore your hyung, you brat. we're boarding, what the hell are you even looking at?" he ignores the way his throat begins to itch, pressure building up from the back of his throat.

"stuff," jungkook cocks his head slyly. his hand reaches up to taehyung's scarf, tugging it down to drag him closer and– no, fuck–

taehyung tugs at the scarf desperately, but at jungkook's look of horrified realization, it's all he can do to stumble backward, hands clutching the fabric desperately to his neck.

"hyung, no, not you, hyung, no," jungkook's voice cracks with heartbreak, eyes still trained to the lines of green that appeared for a second underneath taehyung's scarf.

"shut up," taehyung spits, shaking with regret. "shut the fuck up, don't say anything."

"how can i?" jungkook stands in fury. "how far has it spread, hyung, how long have you just let it sit there and kill you?"

taehyung rolls his eyes. "it's not going to kill me, idiot–"

"we have to tell sejin-hyung, you need the surgery–"

"no."

taehyung's tone is so caustic, his glare so severe, jungkook stutters and stops.

"no," taehyung repeats, "the comeback is next month, there's no time. we can't risk reporters finding out and causing a scandal now."

jungkook hesitates, but it's clear when reality sets in over his worry. "do the others know?" he asks, searching taehyung's face for reassurance.

taehyung shrugs, blasé as ever. "of course." he neglects to mention 'the others' consists largely of jimin and, well, jimin. jungkook visibly deflates, resigning himself to taehyung's decision.

"but why didn't you tell me?" jungkook pouts, and taehyung's sight narrows in on his trembling bottom lip. he doesn't want to kiss it. not even a little.

"uh, did you want to know?" he asks the lip. he's not sure if he answered right. he's not entirely sure what the question was either. were they having a conversation?

"of course!" jungkook stamps his foot, like actually stamps his foot, what the fuck, who gave this fucker the right to be this cute– "so who's the lucky girl?"

taehyung almost laughs, his eyes rolling to the ceiling. of fucking course. "why would i tell a brat like you?" he taunts, effect dampened by his sudden cough that does little to sooth the prickle in his throat.

"so I can beat her up for doing this to you," jungkook says with a confident nod. "or, no, wait," he backtracks hastily, "i can't do that to a girl. i'd just give her a talk. like a really firm talk. seriously firm. like a firmer than park jimin's thighs kind of firm. firmer than bang pd-nim that time two hours before a performance when namjoon-hyung tripped and broke the stage floor kind of firm."

"wow." taehyung drawls. "a firm talk. that'll convince them."

his throat feels like poison ivy's taken up permanent residence around his adam's apple (he'd like to get her evicted, that's for sure) and he's likely killing himself from the amount of toxic flowers he ingests everyday (to be fair, they're probably the only contributor to his daily recommended servings of vegetables). but when jungkook's eyes are sparkling with genuine delight, his smile effervescent, throwing his entire body with the force of his laugh, taehyung turns away, clears his throat, and swallows down another mouthful of bitter flower petals with an equally bitter smile.

when sejin-hyung finally looks up and counts two missing heads he yells from across the room at taehyung and jungkook. he looks down at taehyung's chest as he brushes past and grimaces with a look of distaste.

"come on, taehyung. wash up better, what's that on your neck?"

"yes, hyung," taehyung ducks his head obediently, pulling the scarf more securely around himself and ignoring the pointed stare jungkook sends him.

they board the plane together, and jungkook leans in and taehyung's breath catches.

"promise me you'll get the surgery as soon as promotions are over," jungkook whispers, voice laced with concern.

"yeah, yeah," taehyung nods distractedly.

"i'm serious, hyung," jungkook frowns. "no one's worth keeping these feelings for."

as he holds jungkook's gaze, taehyung can't help but silently disagree. he pushes him away, ignoring the way his heart flutters at the feeling of jungkook's firm, unmarked chest under his touch.

"shut up, jeon jungkook."