Maybe Even Forever [Vmon/Junghope/Yoonmin]

maybe even forever pt. 1

It was movie night tonight, hosted at Yoongi's place this time.

Everything had returned to normal now.

Well, almost normal. If you looked close enough, you could see how every once in a while Hoseok would catch Jeongguk's gaze, and smile back, a smile so soft you could wrap yourself up in it. (Jeongguk wanted to.)

And Taehyung and Namjoon were cuddling on the sofa as Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban played. (Which it did every time movie night was at Yoongi's—it was the only DVD he owned.) Nothing new except they were that much closer. It was hard to tell, though, given that they were inseparable.

Taehyung found himself burying his face in Namjoon's shoulder to hide his smile; he didn't need his friends wondering why he was grinning while Pettigrew escaped and Remus turned into a werewolf, even though they had seen this movie a hundred times and he had done much weirder things.

He eventually had to detach himself, though, because he was hungry, and he knew Yoongi always kept a stash of green tea Pocky just for him ("That shit's no match for the original, Taehyung, I have no idea how you eat it.") in one of the cupboards.

He popped the box open and shoved three sticks in his mouth, hopping up onto the counter and watching the movie from there.

Eventually he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cabinet. There was a weird black mark on the wood, from an accident involving Namjoon and a dinner plate. Yoongi had said he didn't want to know.

Ah. Speaking of Namjoon, Taehyung was pretty sure he was coming into the kitchen, if the steady thud! that came about and the hushed swearing that followed were anything to go by. Taehyung smiled to himself. Ah, his Joonie. Always so clumsy.

Sure enough, he made his way over to the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of water. When the water was placed safely on the countertop, out of reach of startled flailing limbs, Taehyung, putting his Pocky down, decided to make his presence known.

"Hey!"

As expected, Namjoon jumped, his feet slipping on the tile floor. He would have fallen if Taehyung, reflexes lightning-quick from years of Namjoon dropping things, hadn't grabbed the sleeve of his sweater and steadied him.

Namjoon took in a breath.

Taehyung was close, close enough that Namjoon could see the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

"Careful there, Joonie," he murmured, so quietly Namjoon might've missed it if he hadn't been looking at Taehyung's lips, watching them move.

Taehyung got closer, pressing their foreheads together. So close Namjoon didn't register the movie pausing in the other room, didn't register the sound of hushed voices because all he could hear was Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Said boy leaned forward until his nose was pressing against Namjoon's cheek. He could feel Taehyung's breath across his lips, feel Taehyung's warm, warm, lovely-to-hold hand on his jaw and cheek, feel Taehyung's heart beating through where Namjoon's own hand was resting on his chest.

They were so, so close, and so, so in love.

Taehyung leaned forward. Just a bit. Just enough to make him realize that no one will ever compare to the boy between his arms right now, no one else will ever be so right for Taehyung.

Just enough to press their lips together.

It lasted merely a second, the kiss. The feelings continued on, though, filling Taehyung with the warmth he only ever felt when he was with Namjoon, one that spread through his chest and down to his fingertips, humming and healing as it worked its way through his body. Leaving everything in its path soft and sweet with the swirling breeze.

They separated. Only a centimeter. Enough to look into Namjoon's eyes, which were filled with Taehyung, and realize that perhaps he's been in love with Namjoon for a long time.

Maybe even forever.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow pleasantly. "What was that?"

Taehyung shrugged. "Decided I liked kissing you. I wanted to do it again."

"Okay."

And he was swept up again, Namjoon's hands on his shoulder blade and the base of his spine, holding him close, closer because Namjoon never wanted to let him go. He'd hold Taehyung the closest, the only one to access his heart, his mind, his life like this.

Taehyung tasted like green tea Pocky and strawberries and every time Namjoon breathed in he fell in love again.

Good, good, good. This was good. The small noises Taehyung was making into his mouth were good; the way his nose brushed against Namjoon's cheek was good; how one of his hands went from Namjoon's cheek to his hair and the other to the back of his shirt, curling the fingers into the fabric like he was anchoring himself. That was good.

Taehyung was good, Namjoon decided.

We're good.