Hey, Yoongi," Yoongi heard footsteps padding down the hallway, heard the hardwood creak underneath the weight of Taehyung's lanky legs as the other boy entered the room. "I just..." He trailed off as he poked his head inside the closet, eyes raking their way down Yoongi's bare chest. Yoongi shivered under his heated gaze, wishing he could melt into the walls and become invisible.
"What?" He whisper-asked, hurriedly pulling his shirt over the skin of his stomach. He cursed himself for not locking the door- he should have known something like this would happen. Taehyung had taken advantage of him before, though he'd conditioned himself not to dwell on those dark, hopeless nights. It was surprising, what someone could get away with when you had no other choice but to plead for their aid.
Taehyung bit his lip, eyes still dragging their way down Yoongi's slender frame. "I just got off the phone with one of our friends from middle school. Remember Hoseok? He moved to Gwangju in seventh grade?" Yoongi managed a stiff nod as Taehyung slunk his way into the closet, the door swishing closed in his wake.
"Yeah?" Yoongi flinched as Taehyung wrapped his arms around his hunched waist, drawing him close, enveloping him in his stifling grasp. He wanted to push him off, to end whatever Taehyung had forced to exist between them- but the other boy was all that was keeping him off of the streets at the moment, and although he hated to admit it sometimes, he needed him.
"He's in college now. He skipped a grade-- I'm not surprised." Yoongi's dusky eyes squeezed shut as he felt Taehyung's fingers dance across the skin of his back, calloused tips heavy with a sort of deprived lust. Which, of course, was ironic- Taehyung was handsome enough to have whoever he wanted; he just seemed to have his eyes set on Yoongi. "He says you can room with him, if you find a job to pay rent."
He felt the hem of the shirt being lifted off of his torso. "Is that even legal?" He asked, the opaque half-moons of his fingernails digging into the soft flesh of his palms.
" Technically, no- but as long as you don't go shouting about it from atop a hill, you should be fine." Taehyung's lips grazed the base of his neck, and Yoongi cursed the wave of arousal that swept through his tense body.
"I thought you were too stressed to even let me touch you," He admonished as delicately as he could, attempting to guide Taehyung's eager arms upward. "Why are you doing this?"
" You made me miss out on a good time, so you ought to show me one," Taehyung purred, fingers slick against the older boy's pale flesh. "It's only fair that you repay me."
Repay him.
As if his life was simply a debt to be paid off.
He felt his heart folding into itself, growing cold and hard in the cavern of his ribcage. He imagined his lungs icing over, numbness spreading over his frosty skin. He exhaled softly, slowly, imagining an opaque billow of icy breath escape his chest.
He didn't fight back as Taehyung's warm lips melted against his own.
-
Afterwards, as the sky began to darken to the dull plum of a ripe bruise, Yoongi lay amidst the cool celandron sheets of the guest bed, lips swollen and torso ghosted over with a plethora of dark markings. He imagined the ice dripping from his pumping heart as it melted, a dull ache taking its place. He breathed; in, out, in, out- the subtle whoosh of fabric-scented air as it entered his lungs filling his ears.
"Yoongi?" The crow-haired boy flinched as the bedroom door creaked open, and Taehyung's tanned face popped into view. "D'you want to join us for dinner?"
" No thanks," Yoongi swallowed back the wave of revulsion that twisted his insides; he couldn't eat if he tried. "I'm not hungry."
"Kay." Taehyung ducked out again, closing the door behind him- at least he seemed to understand that Yoongi wanted privacy. The older boy sighed as a gust of evening air blew gently through a half-opened window, kissing his heated skin. His mind wandered back to Hoseok, who he would apparently be meeting for the first time in years sometime that week. He wondered how much he'd changed, during those five years they'd spent apart.
Hoseok... He wracked his brain for a memory of his ex-friend, thinking long and hard back to the hectic days of middle school. Ah... He smiled as timeworn image of the boy, snickering as they hacked all school computers to display a certain four-letter-word front-and-center on the sign-in screen, flitted to the surface of his conscious. He'd had a heart-shaped smile, almond-shaped eyes that crinkled up at the corners as he laughed, hair dyed a rich auburn that covered his scalp in a shining swoop. Hoseok had always been into coloring his hair- Yoongi wondered what hue it would be when they met again.
He closed his eyes, a flood of memories trickling into mind as he thought of his old friend, of years gone by- years before his father had gone blind and his mother gone completely mad- by both definitions of the word.
Hoseok, convincing a substitute teacher that his name was Yoongi, and Yoongi's Hoseok- and her brows, furrowed in suspicious confusion, when she called one name and two heads looked up.
Hoseok, getting all A's on a test the rest of the class had mostly scored C's and D's on. Of course, Yoongi had also received an equally high grade- he'd always figured it was because they always studied together. Of course, Taehyung studied with them, too, and he hadn't exactly wound up with a perfect score- then again, he wasn't really the academic type.
Hoseok, eyes dull and somber as he told Yoongi that he was moving to Gwangju that summer- something about a school for the gifted. Yoongi's looked over the practice questions for the test needed in order to get in- they'd seemed easy enough, and he'd gone home begging his parents to let him try it. They'd brushed him off, saying they didn't have enough money to move anyways. Yoongi still remembered the bitter vice of resentment that latched onto his throat and prevented him from talking to them for two days out of spite.
He frowned at that last memory. They'd always meant to keep in touch, he supposed- but neither of them had phones, and writing letters got old fast- and so, slowly, their friendship had deteriorated. He glanced out the window- the sky was sinking into a rich indigo, pinpricks of cosmic light wavering into place across the monochrome heavens. Maybe when I get to Gwangju, everything will be better, he thought, raising his arm into the heady summer air. And maybe, just maybe, soon I won't have to deal with all this bullshit.
