𝚋𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚜 || [𝙱𝚡𝙱]

[•You Owe Me•]

Ship; Taegi

Dom // Taehyung
Sub // Yoongi

The original draft of this was a ziam smut. That's it.

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A pale, brown ceiling, is what he opens his eyes to in the morning, his head sunken into the soft pillow. His eyelashes flutter for a moment, looking towards the open window as the wind flows in. Yoongi sits up, after the foggy half asleep daze fades out, and he can see clearly, going to the window to shut it. Yawning, before stretching and rubbing his eyes, he opens them back up to find Holly begging him from the door. The dog knows he's not aloud on the bed, so he just stares, his eyes looking soft, and his head bowed a little.

He feeds him, groggily, before going to get a cup of coffee. His body is bare except for some incredibly short black gym shorts, and his arms are cold as he leans them against the counter. There's nothing on his schedule for the day, other than maybe the store later, so he doesn't bother getting dressed. In fact, he plans to get his coffee and go back to bed, so he can sit and work on music. The tattoos on his skin stick out especially dark when his house is lit up by the morning sun, his pale skin practically glowing. It's a calm, boring, normal weekend day.

Until the doorbell rings, and everything falls down the drain.

At first it doesn't seem very unusual, it could be his manager or something. Or it could be one of his friends, and when he opens the door, he finds that from a certain perspective, it is.
   
The boy across from him looks disheveled, standing out in the crisp morning sun. He still looks ethereal, beautiful even. The ends of his hair are still a tinge of blonde, after clearly not being cut for a while. Yoongi spectates him, feeling his heart beating out of his chest, irregular patterns against his ribcage. He wishes it was a heart attack, instead of what he knows it to be.
   
Taehyung's face is way too hollow, and his body, even through his clothes, looks sort of ghastly. He's dead looking, and there's no makeup, or any type of cover up like there used to be. Wiping the sympathy from his face, he glares down at him.
   
"What do you want?"

He keeps his eyes on the sidewalk, on the crack right below the younger's feet.
 
"I'm sorry."

His voice is a whisper, barely audible against the wind and city streets bustling outside.

"I asked you a question, and if you're not gonna bother to answer it then-"
   
The younger didn't seem to even bother as he stepped forward, into his house. Yoongi stared dumbfoundedly at him.
   
"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was even thinking. I love you."

Part of Yoongi's soul gave up, as he shut the door, his glare faltering when he looked into his eyes. Those three words hung in the air, like humidity. Black hair is covering Yoongi's eyes, so maybe Taehyung doesn't notice when his facade falters. The stigma in the air is suffocating, throat tightening, and the older tries to swallow the feeling away, but he can't. And even with this disgrace that he feels, he can't help but focus on the way his heart is beating a million miles a minute, or the way his hands ache for touch. The younger steps forward, slowly bringing one hand to grab his wrist, which is yanked away as soon as he touches it.

"You're gonna have to give me more than that."

He points to his chest as he says it, pushing him back a bit.