Taekook Oneshots

Let Me Know

I didn't think it was important when I met him. I didn't realise what was created. I didn't see it, didn't even manage to understand what was happening. I was completely oblivious to the truth.

This wasn't my fault.

Every single time I saw him, it was always something unexpected, he was always right there in front of me, his gaze intense and his voice demanding. It sent shivers through me every time. I knew that it was wrong, but he was so attractive, so strong, that it took me under a spell.

I guess you could say he bewitched me.

We started off as friends, just as everyone does. My best friend Jimin introduced me to him, said he'd seen me from a distance and took an interest. Jimin told me that they'd grown up together in Busan, that he was a nice guy, even if he was sometimes a bit much. He never meant to be, Jimin said. It was just a force of habit.

He was polite enough when we first met, even if he was very blunt about the fact that he found me attractive. Every time he saw me, he'd call out some sort of compliment, paired with a smirk, the type of thing that would make anyone (including me, bottom extraordinaire) blush uncontrollably. Much to his satisfaction. It would always make him a little bit smug when he saw that.

And he wasn't exactly lacking in the looks department either, it's safe to say.

Pure black hair, fierce almond shaped eyes that you couldn't look into and lie, a milky white canvas painted with coloured inks that made up beautiful artworks all across his skin. He was the smell of cigarette smoke at sunset on a summer's day, the metallic twang of fresh blood on the tongue. The rippling pattern of muscles on arms that boasted of roaring dragons, of flickering flames, of skulls that leered at you when you looked at them. He was the type of person your mother would probably rather you avoid, but you know you can't help but break the rules for them. 

He was quiet, sometimes a little cold, but he always made sure you knew that he was listening.

For whatever reason, I trusted him. I knew that he was never going to try and hurt me. Not on purpose, anyway. It was just a feeling, nothing more. He might have hurt others, sure, but I felt like I was immune to that. I don't know why. I just did.

Jimin warned me that there was something below the surface, something that he wasn't telling me. He said that I was safer if I didn't know, as long as I didn't get too involved in the attractive younger male. He made sure I was more than aware of the fact that his old friend wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There was something much more unpleasant hidden underneath everything.

But I paid no attention. I was already hooked by the time the warning came, already addicted to the thrill of talking to someone who dressed in leather jackets and ripped black jeans, addicted to the warm and sometimes uncomfortable feeling of a red hot blush on my cheeks whenever I saw him.

I saw him making out with someone else, maybe five months after we met. It was a girl, someone he didn't know. He was quite clearly hammered, staggering over to me with a lopsided grin and slurring out a greeting, even as I was shattering into pieces without realising right in front of him and the bitch he was with. She left quite quickly, and I just stared at him for a moment, took in his shirtless figure, took in the sight of his abs and the massive white and red scars on his chest, which looked like someone had tried to rip out his heart with their bare hands, and fled.

After that, we didn't talk for two weeks.

Then he sought me out. Jimin told me that he'd not been acting the same since the lack of contact, and I caved in.  Guilt tripped, I suppose. I hated the fact that I couldn't handle the idea of the younger being upset, but I had no self control. I couldn't stop myself from sending him a consoling text, and meeting up with him again. We talked it out in a café, over a cup of coffee and some strawberry cake.