Hustlers || Taekook

Chapter 4

Traffic Light: Are you so ecstatic you fainted with pure joy

Traffic Light: Or did you throw your phone into the Han River

Traffic Light: It's been two hours you're making me weep :'(

Traffic Light: Fight me Jungcrook

Hours after Jungkook arrived home and roughly thirty five deleted drafts later, Jungkook received four texts in quick succession and Jungkook dropped his phone on his face, swearing audibly. His fingers scrambled gracelessly to pick it up before it slid off, clutching it tight and staring at his phone screen with the intensity of a glare, burning each word into his memory probably for all eternity. His heart hadn't stopped its giddy fluttering since two hours ago, his head still carpeted in soft clouds and his vision pink and veiled in a dreamy haze.

In other words, Jungkook was fucked.

He hadn't stopped repeating every single little scene of earlier that evening in his head for a second, remembering one more small detail that ruined any hope of coherent thought each time he replayed, like how cute Taehyung's squarish smile was, how white and straight his teeth were, how there were flashes, glimpses of a playful, cheeky and almost childlike persona in the curl of his lips and the gleam of his eyes, how his whole face would radiate sunshine when he laughed and-

Yes, Jungkook was fucked. He was about two seconds away from actually squealing out loud, and he quickly ripped his thoughts away from Taehyung's heady stare, his low, breathy voice after he kissed Jungkook and-

Jungkook slapped his cheeks once, hard, and returned his attention back to his phone screen. The stinging helped him focus more on the task at hand, but even so, it took him another twenty minutes or so, three mental breakdowns and seven deleted drafts before he finally responded.

Me: don't butcher my name -.-

Jungkook wanted to scream. Whatever witty, charming line he'd meant to reply with, that definitely wasn't it. But whatever. Taehyung evidently wanted him, so playing it cool, acting nonchalant and offhanded was probably a legitimate option here. Wasn't like he'd be able to do it in person, what with his spectacular fumbling and spontaneous heart problems drawn out from literally any movement or expression from Taehyung. He used to think flirting was one of his strong points, but clearly, his strong points would have to be a lot stronger around gorgeous boys with bright orange hair and low voices. And so he calmed himself down, replying like he usually would, like he would to Jimin, or another friend. He hadn't seen Jimin in a while.

Me: and chill, i was

Jungkook paused.

Me: i just got home

Taehyung's response wasn't too delayed, just a couple of minutes or so after Jungkook pressed send but Jungkook had managed, in that time, to lay out nine different scenarios in his head, spiraling from the brief period of lack of response down to various creative versions of his untimely death, each one gloomier than the last. Jungkook was a little melodramatic to say the least, but he figured he could cut himself some slack, seeing as the only romantic interest he'd ever had was a girl back in second grade that he'd completely forgotten the name of. Hookups and picking girls up at bars and clubs were entirely different to the simple texting Jungkook was currently agonising over, because hookups and picking girls up didn't make Jungkook want to schedule an appointment for emergency heart surgery at the nearest hospital just in case his heart gave out on him.

Jungkook almost fell over (he was lying down, oh the shame) in his haste to reply as his phone buzzed and the screen lit up with a text.

Traffic Light: ...clearly