Archive of Our Own

To. Jeon Jeongguk 

꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂

You are cordially invited to the Annual Bewitching Masked Ball

hosted by the Moonchildren Coven

at the Castle of Draguilles

from eventide until first light to celebrate All Hallows’ Eve.

Please use the enclosed Mask. It has been enchanted with a light glamour charm which alters your voice, and the colour of your hair and eyes.

── ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ ──

“Wait, are you being serious?”

“Yup,” Taehyung drawls, eyes crinkling, dropping his chin on his hands in front of him as he watches Jeongguk.

They’re sitting in a charming, dimly lit cafe, and the steam rising off their cups makes Jeongguk wonder if he’s somehow hallucinating the glittering words, the way his name is blinking in and out of existence on the ivory parchment. This is no ordinary letter. He flips the invitation back and forth, wondering if there is a way to check the magic’s authenticity. “Are you sure they didn’t write the wrong name?”

Taehyung laughs. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I find it hard to believe that you didn’t have a hand in this,” Jeongguk tells him, sending Taehyung a look. He leans back in his chair, finally settling the paper down on the coffee table in front of them. The paper hasn’t wrinkled in his hands at all.

“I didn’t. Hay Lin gave me my invitation, and asked me to give you yours.” Taehyung shrugs. “Didn’t I tell you they were going to invite you to the Ball this time?”

Jeongguk stares at Taehyung helplessly.

“You’re a household name now, Jeonggukie. You’ve been breaking records and going on a world tour. This humility act doesn’t suit you at all,” Taehyung teases him, leaning over to pinch at the skin near Jeongguk’s elbow.

Jeongguk swats his hand away, sending him a mock glare. “But the Coven doesn’t invite just anyone.”

"Well, you're not just anyone."

"Yeah, but they're magic, and I'm... just me. Human."

"You know they don't discriminate like that. They like humans enough. We make questionable decisions all the time but they enjoy watching the fall out."

"Taehyung." Jeongguk rolls his eyes. His brows crease as a thought crosses his mind. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Are you being serious?” Taehyung volleys his earlier words back at him, incredulous.

“I don’t want to assume anything!”

Taehyung snorts. “Please assume,” he says, looking at Jeongguk over the rim of his mug. He puts it back a little forcefully on the table, the hot chocolate almost spilling out. “I’m dressing you. There is just no way I’m allowing any other fashion designer this opportunity. Do you have any idea how much money I will make, once people see the Jeon Jeongguk wearing clothes I make at the ball?” His voice drops to a dramatic, low tone, even as his eyelashes flutter in tandem with a hand he uses to fan himself.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “I’m only a means to an end for you.”

“I’m a genius at marketing.”

“A leech,” Jeongguk says, fond. “A leech is what you are.”

“A leech that will make you look fabulous.” Taehyung leans back, crossing one leg over another and jutting his chin out, making a show of arrogance. "I mean it. You will be one of the best dressed at the Ball."

"I'd better be. I want to make a good impression."

“Don't you trust me? You're always making headlines thanks to me," Taehyung teases. "But seriously, I’m really happy that you’re going to the Annual.”

“I want to see what the hype is about. You've been telling me about it for years.” Jeongguk hums, head turning towards the window with distant eyes. "I want to experience everything with you."

"You will. We will have loads of fun, I promise."

☆

"Why are you bothering me?" The words are rude, but the crinkled eyes tell him otherwise. Jeongguk moves into the main area of Taehyung's studio like it is his own place, watching Taehyung bend over a swath of velvet fabric so big and heavy it drapes all over his table and falls down to the ground, pooling at his feet. Taehyung manages the weight perfectly, and not for the first time, Jeongguk is in awe at what his hands can do, how they make the job he does seem effortless. “Is it a fashion emergency?”

“Can I not see you just for the sake of seeing you?”

“Not when I know that you have many interviews lining up to ask you about your new album. I should know, your stylist asked me for a different suit for each of them.”

“I saw them by the way, they look good, thank you," Jeongguk says as he wanders over the mini fridge in the corner of the office. Upon opening it, he discovers the familiar neatly arranged yellow carton boxes.

"There's—"

"Banana milk! You're a lifesaver," Jeongguk says, loud in his excitement, as he reaches for one of the carton boxes. "You even have beer and bao buns. Hyung, did you stock up for me?"

"Who else? No one else is rude enough to raid my fridge every time they drop by. You'd think that company is starving you."

"They're not, but they're certainly not letting me drink beer... Says it doesn't promote a good image." Jeongguk shrugs.

"They're crazy. You're not going to turn into some kind of violent asshole because you drink beer occasionally."

“It's okay, they probably do know better." Jeongguk shrugs. "Anyway, whatever. It's a small concession. It means I can keep coming here and drink from your stash. Well, my stash." He giggles, before wandering back to Taehyung to look over his shoulder. Taehyung doesn't look back, and Jeongguk can tell from his breathing that he's back into the zone.

It's been like this for the longest time between the two of them. Their career paths have been completely different from each other, but they've never strayed from each other's orbits. Taehyung had found his calling very early on, and had started everything from scratch in his small bedroom in their childhood hometown, with his mother's old sewing machine. He would buy cheap tissues from the local market while Jeongguk would sneak to the tailor's shop a few doors away to check if he could pick up offcuts or fabric scrapes thrown away. They would go home with arms and bags full, dumping their bounty on Taehyung's tiny desk. Jeongguk would always remember Taehyung's wide smile at seeing the tower of fabrics, how it seemed to light up the whole space of Taehyung's makeshift workshop.

What started out as a creative outlet turned into Taehyung's biggest dream, and reality had grown bigger than they could ever imagine. Taehyung had started by making outfits for family and friends, and word of mouth helped spread his talent even further, until he joined a local reality competition that propelled him to recognition even when he didn't win in the end. It had helped him get just enough funds to open a small shop that doubled as his studio, and the rest, as they say, is history.

In parallel, Jeongguk had spent all of that time trying many different things. He’d gone to school, did apprenticeships, even started his own business, drawing from Taehyung’s example, but he had never been able to settle for a path that would appease his parents.

But he had never lived that time with negative feelings, because a lot of that youthful period was marked by Taehyung and being there for all of Taehyung's milestones. Taehyung would pour over his sketches while Jeongguk fluttered around him, observing and asking him questions. Jeongguk had been one of Taehyung's earliest models, and he had always thought that was one of the coolest, funnest roles for him to play. He loved trying Taehyung's designs, would stand still for a whole hour just so Taehyung could do his tweaks directly on his body, and hated that he could no longer do that when he got casted for an entertainment company and somehow became the well-known singer that he is now.

It truly amazes Jeongguk sometimes to think about how far they've both come, from young boys in the small town they grew up in to being household names, the word Taehyung likes to use when talking about Jeongguk but really applies to Taehyung as well.

All of that has started here. In this studio. This place is so familiar to Jeongguk. It is one of Taehyung's two current studios, and it is the smaller one of the two, but it was the first one he could afford to rent and then own in this big city they now live in. It no longer serves as a storefront, but Taehyung loves going there, says that it reminds him of his roots and that it inspires him the most.

Jeongguk remembers the weeks renovating the studio with Taehyung, going out to buy furniture and equipping the studio with all that Taehyung would need now that his career has picked up and orders have started coming in at a regular frequency.

He picked out the armchair he's currently sitting on, he thinks as he lets his head fall over the back of it. The softness of it is one that can only come with the passage of time makes him sigh softly, his muscles relaxing into the cushion.

“By the way... Should I show up with someone?”

“No, but you could? It would help to have someone when you first arrive and know nobody…” Taehyung looks up at him, hands stilling, a curious glint in his eyes.

"Wait, you think it's a good idea?" Jeongguk is a little surprised. "You always say that I should be careful of these types of decisions..."

"What are you talking about? Who are you thinking of bringing?"

"Well, I don't have anyone in mind yet, but if I show up with a date, the press would make a big deal out of it."

"Ah, you mean someone like that. Like a date." Taehyung looks back down. There’s a frown on his face, that Jeongguk doesn't like, so he hastens to say.

“Like I said, I don’t have anyone like that, so there’s nothing for the press to pick apart. Don’t worry. But if it’s expected for the Ball…”

“No, don’t worry about it. I have always shown up alone. Better do that than going there with someone on your first date, Jeongguk-ah.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Ugh. Maybe I’ll meet someone at the Ball instead. It’s better if I don’t have anyone with me then…”

“Wait… Are you looking to meet someone? This is new.” Taehyung straightens in his seat, dropping his leg back down. He stops working on the velvet fabric, eyes focusing on Jeongguk.

“Not actively I guess… But it could be nice. Dating apps have gone stale..."

"Right. I don't know how you stayed so long there."

"Me neither. Sheer stubbornness, I suppose. There are only so many ways I can meet new people. But I have hopes for the ball. Maybe you’ll meet someone nice.”

“Jeongguk. Gukkie. Please.” Taehyung groans, turning away as the conversation leads down familiar paths. “Not this again. What if I don’t want to meet anyone? You already know I don’t want to.”

“Tae, come on. I never understand your reluctance when it comes to these things. You’re a catch and you know it. It wouldn’t hurt to open yourself up to the possibility of meeting someone new at the ball.”

“I’m just not interested in all the drama. I’m more focused on work right now, and it’s too troublesome letting people in again. Teaching a stranger your lore and your stuff.”

“Lore.”

“Shut up.”

“Well then, there will be someone perfect for you who will want to know all of your lore and you will want to share all of your lore with him. I can’t forever be the only one who knows your lore.”

“You say it like it isn’t a privilege,” he scoffs, looking at Jeongguk with a raised eyebrow.

“It is a privilege. Who wouldn’t want this privilege?”

“You’d be surprised,” Taehyung mutters.

“Fine, you stubborn ass. If you don’t want to meet someone, you can just focus on making sure I look stunning to meet my someone. That’s a big enough task, isn’t it?”

Taehyung is silent for a beat, immobile, before he narrows his eyes playfully. “Watch it. I can also dress you in the most outrageous outfit just to teach you a lesson.”

“I’d pull it off,” Jeongguk says confidently, before he stands up, stretching. “Anyway. Interview now. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll drop by to get your measurements, aaand… you can cook tonight.”

Jeongguk laughs. “Once again, you’re a leech.”

“Once again, a fabulous leech. Your favorite leech.”

“My favorite.”

☆

"Jeon Jeongguk, from the Eastern region!"

Jeongguk is announced to the party by a witch in a plain black dress which indicates her status as a servant and is of a stark contrast with the sumptuous sight that greets him as soon as he crosses the enormous marble double doors of the Grand Gallery of the Castle of Draguilles.

The large ballroom is illuminated by a huge crystal chandelier dangling low at the center of a coffered ceiling, with crystal prisms hanging off every golden branch that curves and spreads out from the central stem made of gems and diamonds. The crystal drops reflect the fire from the burning candles atop the glassy bobèches, diffusing a glowing light that catches on every bead of gems on the guests' masks, on the silvery trimmings of their dresses, on the dangles around their wrists.

The guests move across the dance floor in slow circles, bodies pressed tightly together, robes swishing with every twist and turn, dancing to a crooning melody. The music seems to be made of sounds that are unfamiliar to Jeongguk's ears despite him being an artist. They seem to be coming forth from instruments that don't exist in the human realm, yet the string quartet and the pianoforte playing live at the far end of the ballroom look completely like all the others Jeongguk had seen before. There is an alluring, twinkling quality, like chimes and bell trees, that is begging Jeongguk to join in on the fun.

Which he will, but only after getting himself a drink and some food. He's starving, having gone straight here from dance practice. The lavish banquet has Jeongguk's mouth watering, and Taehyung will certainly scold him for being so single-minded if he was here (but he would have joined him anyway). Plates are piled high with lamb roast, scallops, duck, and various amuse-bouche, and cups are overflowing with nectar and drinkable potions, sitting atop a long table with a sumptuous velvet tablecloth draped on it that runs from one side of the ballroom's length.

Witches love to show off, and the Moonchildren Coven isn't an exception. The ostentatious splendor of it all surprises Jeongguk even if it isn't the first time he attends such an event. He is reminded once again that most humans aren’t privy to this spectacle, and he is still convinced that if it wasn’t for Taehyung, he would never be an invited guest among the witches, and esteemed ones at that.

He needs to find Taehyung, but there is something else almost as important. As if reading his thoughts, the Coven’s High Priestesses suddenly appear next to him, seemingly materializing from thin air. They wear golden masks and are clad in dark purple robes with a cape over their head, as mysterious as midnight.

The Coven’s High Priestesses are the highest authority for the community of surviving witches in the modern world. They have presided over their community for the last hundreds of years, protecting them from humans’ prying eyes and navigating through the era of new, invasive technology.

Taehyung is really the only human that Jeongguk knows gets along well with the magical folk. His best friend’s works as a fashion designer are popular amongst South Koreans but even more so amongst the magical folk residing in the peninsula. Jeongguk doesn’t think they would wear clothes from any other human fashion designer.

Magical folk are naturally picky about styling, vain enough to want to look different from humans, but still practical enough that they prefer the materials that humans use, as spells are easier to weave into human-made cotton or linen. Taehyung has a knack for making pretty designs that are unconventional enough to please the magical folk, but without making them appear eccentric or stand out like a sore thumb, especially as the barriers between human and magical existence keep fading away in recent years.

But more than that, Jeongguk knows the witches and warlocks love Taehyung for his fierce defense of them against prejudice spearheaded by bigoted humans. From the beginning of his career, Taehyung has made it a point to never discriminate against any species. Jeongguk has seen him kick many prejudiced assholes out of his store, repeating unwaveringly that his job is to help everyone feel comfortable and beautiful in their skin.

“Jeon Jeongguk,” the three witches intone as one, and Jeongguk startles out of his thoughts, immediately bowing deeply.

“High Priestesses, good evening,” he says, breathless. “It is an honour. May your Coven’s athames remain sharp and your sacred circles unbroken,” he recites what Taehyung has taught him.

“As above, so below. May your path be filled with light and truth. Blessed be.”

Jeongguk bows again, turning the mysterious words over in his head, but when he straightens, the space next to him is empty. He looks around in surprise, and that’s when he sees him.

The man is dressed in deep green robes over a black ensemble of dress shirt and pants. A mask covers half of his face, sitting atop a high nose bridge, and the only clearly visible part of the stranger’s face is his pink, full lips. It’s a simple mask of a dark lace material with no added feathers or glittering stones like the ones Jeongguk has seen so far on the guests, but it serves a stark contrast to his tousled hair, an intense shade of silver under the lights.

Jeongguk is drawn into his bright blue eyes, made sharper by the upturned shape of the mask’s holes, like eyes of a panther, and then he picks up on the unusual way the color sometimes shifts. Taehyung once told him that that is a clear indication that it is the result of glamour magic.

Jeongguk wonders what the real color is.

He wonders if he is even a human.

Jeongguk shakes himself out of his daze, reminding himself that he needs to find Taehyung. His friend is nowhere to be seen. He should have insisted on coming here together, but Taehyung had dismissed him, saying that he was holed up by his work, and that Jeongguk shouldn't leave a bad first impression by being late. He stamps down on the beginnings of feeling abandoned and anxious in a crowd he doesn't know. He's a grown adult, and he doesn't want Taehyung to have to babysit him.

Jeongguk chooses a glass of a liquid that resembles red wine, hoping that it will somehow make him more relaxed. His eyes fall on the majestic ceilings paintings, and the ones that line the walls as well, in golden frames, depicting scenes of a witchy nature. The rest of the surface available on the ceiling and the walls is fully covered in gold, with intricate bas-reliefs, floral arabesques and serpentine details carved in. Mounted at the four corners of the ballroom are white busts of people Jeongguk doesn't recognize, surely illustrious witches. The red velvet curtains, which hang over the huge windows flutter gently in the night breeze, dangerously close to the candelabras, giving glimpses of the garden.

He lets his eyes wander as he sips his drink.

Even in the low light of the ballroom, the man from earlier stands out, looking handsome and elegant. A hush falls and follows in his path when he strides confidently across the ballroom to greet the High Witches, and the chatter that rises again behind his back clearly has him as the principal topic.

Jeongguk tells himself that he's waiting for Taehyung to arrive, but he knows it's the only thing keeping him rooted here.

It seems like the drink did give him liquid courage, because as soon as the Witches are gone, he finds himself moving towards the stranger. He just needs to find out who he is.

He straightens up, and tries to let a small smile play on his lips, aware that that's the only thing that can be really seen with the mask. He finds himself with a silly thought, I hope I'm looking good.

“Hello.” The man’s voice is a deep velvet, when Jeongguk finally stands in front of him.

Jeongguk gets it now, when they say, like a moth to flames.

“Hi,” Jeongguk replies, strangely wary now even as he knows what his body suggests instead, leaning in like this, as if pulled by a string, uncontrollable. Now that he's here, he has no idea what to do. There had been no concrete intention, only impulses.

“Would you like to dance?” Jeongguk reaches out a hand, and feels heat rush to his cheeks, not expecting the question to have come out from his own mouth.

The man looks between Jeongguk’s face and his outstretched hand before he finally reaches out. The warmth emanating from soft skin is the first thing Jeongguk notices, and the long, elegant fingers. They close lightly around his hand, and the man steps into Jeongguk's personal space.

Jeongguk moves towards him then, one of his hands falling on the stranger’s waist. His eyes are on Jeongguk, scrutinizing.

“You don’t look like the type to dance,” the man says.

Jeongguk feels suddenly emboldened. “The allure of dancing with a mystery, how could I resist?” he says, forcing his voice to sound even, betraying none of the excitement starting to pool at the pit of his stomach.

As if on cue, the music starts, a sweet melody that sounds like sparkling strings.

It can’t be anything else but magic, Jeongguk thinks, the way they fall into steps together. The rest of the celebrating party fade away as the both of them weave together through the pilasters and archways of the ballroom. It fades and fades, until it's only the two of them stepping to the music, until Jeongguk only sees the man in front of him, awed.

Jeongguk wonders absentmindedly if he is not actually dancing with some princes from some magical species he has not heard of. His dance partner is graceful, his posture so regal and poised that Jeongguk feels clumsy next to him, even if he knows he’s not bad at this. He's practiced enough times with Taehyung, whenever he asks Jeongguk to accompany him to these sort of events during Fashion Weeks. Taehyung is the most beautiful dancer that Jeongguk knows.

The thought of his friend makes him straighten, thinking that he cannot embarrass Taehyung in this setting or do any damage to his good name. He relaxes his hold and shifts his center of gravity, leading the dance now. He steps even closer, wounding his arm around the stranger’s waist and brings him closer, hearing his breath hitch.

As the first song’s last notes echo, Jeongguk is reluctant to let go. The noises of the ball seep through the bubble they've created for themselves, and Jeongguk knows he's not the only one feeling it, as he sees the way the stranger looks around, as if returning to reality. Distantly, he notices people bow to their partner, moving away to find the next person on their dance card. He’s not usually one to defy traditions, but Jeongguk tightens his grip on the man’s waist and hand, seamlessly sweeping them into the beat of the next song as the dance floor comes to life once again.

They keep dancing, one, two, three, the next four songs together. When the melody gets faster, they stop waltzing and start matching each other's silly moves. They don't talk, the speed not really allowing them to do so, but Jeongguk can feel a smile stretching on his lips, echoed by the amused sparkles in the stranger's eyes.

At last, when the tempo drops again, they slow down to catch their breath. Lively chatter picks up again in the ballroom as guests leave the dance floor. They're one of the rare pairs who are still spinning around. They’ve moved back into each other’s embrace, and Jeongguk is glad for it. The stranger’s hands are so warm and steady, Jeongguk catches himself thinking that he wants to keep dancing and holding his hand, while the other rests on Jeongguk’s shoulder. Even through the fabric of his robe, he finds the warmth of the man’s hand comforting and familiar.

Jeongguk looks past the stranger’s shoulder. His eyes are drawn to a regal-looking person in a dress whose hem is erupting in flames, dancing elegantly with a man, whose terrified eyes will not leave his feet, also engulfed in flames.

“That’s Lo.” The man leans in to whisper in Jeongguk’s ears. “She’s a witch with fire as her elemental magic, that’s why her dress does that burning-without-actually-burning thing. And that’s her human, who I think she really likes, but she keeps saying that he’s immature and only her boytoy. She keeps him in her basement.” The accompanying chuckle is easy on the ears.

“Do you always indulge in gossip?”

“What, isn’t it better than just talking about the weather or how pretty the decorations are?”

“Have you been here before? Are you a wizard of the Moonchildren Coven?”

“I've been here a few times, yes, but I’m non-magical.”

"How come you ended up here then? This isn't the most friendly place for us humans."

“Oh, I guess you're right, but I've known the Moonchildren Coven for a long time now. I'm lucky they like me enough to let me stick around.”

“You must be pretty special then," Jeongguk says, and then immediately cringes inwardly, shoulders curling in from the way that sounded. He curses himself for the way his voice drops and wonders self-consciously if it makes him sound like he is flirting with the stranger. Even if he kind of is. “I mean, they don't accept outsiders easily. Especially humans." He moves back onto a safer topic.

The stranger snorts. “Of course they don't, with how most humans treat them. I don't blame them. They are beings just like us, I don't understand how anyone can look at them and decide that their lives are not worth as much as ours. If everybody would just take the time to get to know them, they'd see all the ways the magical folk might be even better than us.” There's a beat of silence. "What?” he asks as Jeongguk keeps looking at him, mouth slightly agape.

"Nothing. I agree with you." Jeongguk shakes his head. "You just reminded me of someone I know, is all. He has strong opinions on the way we treat the magical folk and he’s always advocating for stronger rights for them.”

“And he’s right for it.” There’s a lull in the conversation as they separate to do the appropriate steps. Jeongguk is feeling a little lightheaded about the electricity coursing through him, the way his heart is slamming against his ribcage, about the attraction he is feeling for the person in front of him. The outburst has only made him more interesting to Jeongguk’s eyes.

“That's quite the mask you've got there,” the man says when he comes back to Jeongguk’s arms, nodding toward Jeongguk’s mask.

“Thank you, a friend decorated the mask that was given to us for me,” Jeongguk tells him, turning his head slightly, letting the light from the chandeliers catch on the glittering gemstones all over his mask. “He’s a fashion designer.”

“The crystals bring out your eyes. They’re quite en vogue in Parisian ballrooms these past months.”

“Oh, have you been to Paris?” Jeongguk conveniently ignores the part about his eyes, because he cannot address the way his heart speeds up.

“Yes, I’ve had the opportunity to visit Paris a few times.”

“You might have heard of Kim Taehyung, if you’ve been there. He’s the fashion designer I mentioned. He’s pretty well-known.”

There’s a flash of something in the stranger’s eyes, but it’s gone in a blink of an eye.

“I… I’m not sure I’ve heard of his name before, I might have seen some designs without knowing? But I’m not interested in your friend. Tell me about you.”

Jeongguk licks his lips, hesitating. “Well, I’m Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Oh? It’s nice to meet you, Jeon Jeongguk. Your last album is a masterpiece.” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow at the tone, and his dance partner shrugs. “You’re literally the biggest singer on the entire planet right now, Jeongguk-ssi.”

“I—I wouldn’t go as far, but I’m flattered you think so, thank you.”

“Just stating things for what they are. You have a lovely voice, Jeongguk-ssi,” the stranger says serenely, seemingly not at all aware of the effect of his words on Jeongguk.

Jeongguk feels warmth flood his cheeks. “I-Ah, have you listened to my songs?”

“The ones that are played on the radio. They’re great. My sister is a fan.”

“Only your sister, hm?” Jeongguk can’t help saying, his voice dipping to a teasing tone, and he delights in the smile the man tries to bite it away.

“I’m just a casual listener.”

“Well, casual listener, may I know your name? I promise I’m not offended that you’re not a fan.”

“You are aware that we are at a masquerade ball, and we didn’t go through all this trouble to create a disguise for nothing, yes?”

“It feels unfair, that you know my name, and I don’t know yours.”

“It depends on what you’re going to do with it.”

“I’m sure we can think of some uses for both our names tonight.” Jeongguk grins at him, letting the stranger see his intentions in the curve of his smirk.

The man's eyes widen, clearly not expecting the direction of the conversation. It's the first time Jeongguk sees him lose this composure, the hands that are in Jeongguk's slacken.

There’s simmering tension, and Jeongguk is surprised by the way the conversation has turned flirtatious so quickly. That the man seems to reciprocate what Jeongguk is feeling. It’s been so long since he last allowed himself to be looked at and assessed, allowed himself to look and assess. To desire.

Jeongguk hopes he’s not reading it all wrong. He feels out of his comfort zone, hasn’t been involved in anything remotely close to this in a long while, but he’s unrepentant about taking this step. It’s also new and rare, the way he feels so comfortable and good with someone he’s just met. Maybe it's the anonymity of the mask, but there’s only been one other person making him feel this way.

He wants to explore where this may lead tonight, and he's ready.

The tension bubbles over.

“Are you always this forward?”

“Not usually with casual listeners. But there’s always an exception. So, won’t you tell me?”

“I’m Kim Haein,” the man finally says, swallowing thickly. Jeongguk traces the movement with his eyes.

“Well, Haein, do you maybe want to step outside for a bit?”

Haein hesitates for one second, and then nods. He grabs Jeongguk's hand and leads him off of the dance floor. He follows Haein out of the ballroom, sidestepping people swaying and ducking behind gold-lined tapestries, descending the grand staircase and stepping out in the gardens.

They venture a little further out, Jeongguk wondering where they are heading when he sees it. Nestled within the verdant shrubs and dense, tall trees, stands a folly, with intricately carved columns, supporting a majestic marbled dome which serves as the roof. When Jeongguk steps inside the folly, he’s momentarily distracted by the delicate relief sculptures and friezes.

When he turns back, Haein is leaning against a column, regarding Jeongguk with half-lidded eyes, a corner of his mouth lifted up in a lazy smirk.

“You know, rumor has it that the best kind of intrigues are the kind that happen between masked strangers at masquerade balls,” Jeongguk says, stepping closer.

“Well, I tend to agree. But can we really trust rumors?”

“I suppose we'll have to put that theory to the test, won't we?”

Distantly, the music reaches a crescendo, and Jeongguk doesn't hold back any longer when he reads what he wants in the tilt of Haein’s head. He reaches Haein in one stride, presses him against a column, mouth claiming the other's in a searing kiss.

His lips taste like the red wine that Jeongguk has had earlier, but there is also a sugary trace that reminds him of chocolate, and Jeongguk makes a note to ask him where he has found such an addictive chocolate dessert at the banquet table, even as he presses closer to chase the source of sweetness.

They keep kissing, and Jeongguk loses track of time, of place, of anything that didn't have to do with the man in his arms.

As Haein drops to his knees, Jeongguk's mind goes blank.

Jeongguk throws his head back at the warm sensation around his length, and through dazed eyes, he notices a magical winged-being mounted on top of the pediment of the alcove. Jeongguk hopes that they are not desecrating some deity or mystical power revered by the witches.

Jeongguk reaches down to undo the satin ribbons that hold the mask secure to Haein’s face, but is stopped by the other’s hands.

“I want to keep it, please.”

Jeongguk nods, dropping his arms back along his sides. “First time I meet someone with a mask kink.”

The stranger removes his mouth from Jeongguk’s cock, pulling a desperate whine out of him at the loss. “Jerk,” he reprimands, pinching Jeongguk’s thigh, before licking a broad stripe up his length, the pressure of his tongue stronger than before as if to punish Jeongguk for the comment, but all that does is send a bolt of pleasure through him.

Jeongguk laughs. “I’m not kinkshaming you, promise.”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t mind. If that’s what you want,” Jeongguk tells him, breathless from both arousal and amusement. He reaches out to thread his fingers through the other’s hair, all silk, and tilts his head up gently. “Besides, the mask brings out your eyes. They are very beautiful.”

“Good save.” Haein rolls his beautiful eyes, standing up. Jeongguk’s hand in his hair slides down the length of his body, stopping on the curve of his ass.

Jeongguk pulls him closer and puts his mouth on him again. They trade kisses after kisses, licking into each other’s mouths, rutting against each other, hands roaming.

"I want you," Jeongguk whispers against his lips.

Haein’s head falls on Jeongguk’s shoulder, hot breath fanning across Jeongguk’s neck. “God, this is such a bad idea.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk twists his head slightly, leaving pecks from Haein’s temple down the side of his neck, sucking at a darker spot on the side of Haein’s neck, right underneath his jaw, that looks a little bit like a heart.

“Yeah. You don't know me.”

“Do I have to in order to want you?” Once satisfied that he would leave a mark on Haein’s neck, over his birthmark, Jeongguk moves up the column of his throat, keeping his mouth there, feeling every single one of Haein’s swallow as he fights for rationality.

“A hundred percent.” Jeongguk punctuates each word with a deep kiss, hands groping at Haein’s backside, both of them groaning at the touch.

“We can’t do anything here though. I don’t want the High Priestesses to accidentally stumble on us. It’s your first time here.”

“Agreed. That would be a horror story appropriate for Hallow’s Eve.”

Haein huffs out a laugh, separating to straighten his robes, and Jeongguk finds the sound so attractive he drags him down for another deep kiss.

Jeongguk doesn’t remember how they got to his apartment.

He remembers giving Haein his hand, and then Haein’s hand grabbing his own, the long fingers wrapping around his own in a tight hold as they race out of the imposing halls, giggling like schoolchildren about to be caught doing something naughty. Even so distracted by his arousal and attraction for Haein, he can't help but notice the warmth of the handholding.

“Wait, hold on,” Haein says, as he leans to the right, making Jeongguk tighten his arms and counterbalance his weight. The small lights along the hallway flicker on, bathing the area in a soft, dim light.

“How did you know the switch to the small lights was there?”

“Isn’t it always the same everywhere?” Haein says, before claiming Jeongguk’s lips, kicking any lingering thought out of his mind.

Kissing Haein is addictive. He kisses fiercely, and Jeongguk feels shivers running through his body, feeling his passion being reciprocated in every swipe of their tongues together, in every slick sound of their mouths melding and separating.

Jeongguk falls into his bed, pushing Haein underneath him, hands already working to unbutton their blouses. His mouth trails down, mouthing and licking the patches of golden, naked skin that become revealed.

He moves lower and lower, before he reaches Haein’s waistband. He smoothes his hands up and down his hips, then moves across to palm over the bulge, mouth still loyally following the same path as his hands, kissing Haein's length over his pants.

He pulls Haein to the edge of the bed, settling down on his knees in front of him. “I’m going to suck you off. Need that big cock in my mouth right now.”

Haein swallows audibly. Jeongguk shuffles forward and pulls his pants down, while looking into Haein’s eyes. They are a violent blue.

The sight of Haein’s big, leaking cock curving over his stomach makes Jeongguk’s arousal shoot up, his own cock hardening painfully in the confines of his pants.

He brings his sucks on Haein’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head, his head lowering to feed more into his mouth. He focuses on the tip for a while, licking it hungrily, before going lower with every up and down movement, savoring each motion, loving the weight of it on his tongue, the way it throbs when it finally hits the back of Jeongguk’s throat.

"Just like that, yes," Haein moans. “Jeongguk, I’m close, fuck.”

Jeongguk immediately pulls off, hands squeezing Haein’s thighs, as if to anchor him. “Already?”

“Shut up. It seems your mouth is not only good for singing.”

“And you said you weren’t a fan.”

“I can even be convinced to pay your fan membership right now.”

Jeongguk huffs out a laugh. “So easy.” He brings one hand up to Haein's mouth, fingers tracing his full lips. “Come on, wet those fingers for me.”

Haein looks at Jeongguk for a few seconds, then relents, tongue darting out to lick at Jeongguk’s fingers. Jeongguk presses two of them in with a little more force, and Haein’s mouth opens wider, obediently.

The sight should not be this arousing. Jeongguk is so hard, and he can scarcely focus on anything else than the pressing need for release.

With his free hand, he pushes gently at Haein’s shoulders, who gets the hint and lays down. Pulling Haein’s legs apart, Jeongguk touches the slicked fingers gently against his rim. “Are two fingers enough to get you ready for me? I’m not really sure…” He’s totally bluffing, but something about this is making him feel bold, mouthy, out of control, insane.

He slides one finger into him, nudging upwards, making Haein suck in a breath. He starts an easy rhythm, thrusting his finger in and out. It’s not easy to gauge Haein’s reactions through the mask, but his breathy little gasps are telling enough.

Jeongguk has never been a selfish lover, but he doesn’t remember an instance where it has ever given him this much pleasure to be giving pleasure. His attraction to Haein is making everything feel ten thousands times more intense. Or maybe he’s drunker than he thought, from that concoction at the Ball.

He wants to touch him everywhere, and be touched back. Haein's hands are gripping his shoulders, and he feels the heat of them searing invisible marks onto his body, marking him with this encounter like magic, for evermore.

Everything is too much and not enough all at once.

A second finger joins the first, drawing out more delicious moans. Jeongguk wraps a hand around Haein’s leaking cock, stroking it slowly. Jeongguk’s mouth descends to muffle Haein’s hiss.

"Can I fuck you now?"

"Y-yes... God, this is insane."

Jeongguk rubs the blunt head against Haein’s hole, coating it messily, before he presses in, slowly. The man below him holds his breath, and Jeongguk does the same.

When he finally bottoms out, Haein’s eyes snap up to Jeongguk. His eyes are wide and glassy, somehow even bigger underneath the sparkling mask, and Jeongguk feels a perverse pleasure that he’s the one bringing tears of pleasure to Haein, making him lose his composure.

Because that’s what Haein is. A mystery, a secrecy, a luxury only a few can access. It’s clear from the entire evening that he guards himself and his secrets preciously, that those who enter his world are far and few in between.

It’s thrilling, not knowing.

But Jeongguk aches to know him.

The desire is so real, so vivid, it almost makes Jeongguk panic as he starts to move. Even as he fucks into him, his mind is running a mile a minute.

What does he look like underneath this mask?

How can I keep being this way with him?

The need claws at him, propels him forward. He drives into Haein, hands digging into his hips, keeping his thrusts purposeful, withdrawing almost completely before slamming all the way back in, never letting Haein recover.

Haein's moans are an aphrodisiac. His voice is deep even when Jeongguk’s angled thrusts make him cry out, the perfect backcloth for the litany of Haein's name that fall out of Jeongguk's own mouth.

“You’re so deep, fuck. I can feel you everywhere."

Haein reaches for him, and it's instinctive, the way Jeongguk reaches back.

"I really like you, Jeon Jeongguk."

"Me too, god, me too."

Their hands interlace in a strangely tender and slow clasp, contrasting with the way Jeongguk's free hand is gripping the sheets where his arm is holding him up on the bed, keeping him steady as he pistons in and out.

Haein pulls Jeongguk in, mouths slotting together in a strangely tender passion, even as the harsh sounds of skin slapping become a near constant and only get louder, obscene and lewd. 

Jeongguk tears his mouth away when he can no longer resist the need to pick up speed. He hitches one of Haein’s legs above his shoulder, pressing him down, opening him up further. He watches the way Haein opens for his cock, the way his rim gives in as he invades the tightness and how it clings as he pulls out.

Haein scrambles at his shoulders, eyes slipping close as he falls over the edge, clenching from the skyrocketing pleasure. Jeongguk curses lowly as Haein squeezes around him, plunging deeper.

Jeongguk’s body pulls taut as he buries himself deep within Haein, his cock throbbing in short bursts as he comes with a drawn-out groan.

Haein trembles underneath him, and he can’t help grinding deep, even as they both hiss from oversensitivity. He does not move away though, and that satisfies something deep inside Jeongguk. Instead, Haein bears Jeongguk's weight easily when he finally sags half on top of him, hands immediately finding his way into his hair, smoothing the wayward strands away from his sweaty face.

This is nice. His fingers are nice and long. God, sex is exhausting when done right, Jeongguk thinks dimly as he drifts into sleep.

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter open, taking in the warmth against his skin and the sunlight flooding in through the windows, making the usually darkened room unrecognizable.

His body feels like it’s waking up from a thousand-year sleep.

For a fleeting moment, the atmosphere feels bright and ethereal, and Jeongguk gets a strange out-of-body sensation before the fragments of memories from last night trickle in. He wakes up fully then, a sparkling feeling bubbles inside of him, and an unbidden smile stretches across his lips as he turns his head to the left.

His heart sinks, the way black holes swallow stars up.

The space next to him is empty, and when he reaches out, the sheets are cold to the touch.

Cold stillness rushes in to replace the cozy hush that had blanketed the early morning, leaving Jeongguk breathless. He sits up, and numbing realization grips him—he’s completely alone.

Haein must have left a while ago.

Hours ago.

Maybe Haein didn’t even stay, only just long enough to see Jeongguk fall asleep before he slipped away. Jeongguk remembers with horror how he passed out right after, and maybe that hadn’t been the most attractive thing he could have done.

Haein didn’t want to stay.

He hadn’t thought that he would feel so disappointed with the fact that he would feel so lonely. He knows better than to expect anything from someone he has just met. He’s been here before.

Jeongguk slumps back down on his bed, looking at the ceiling like it might provide him with some answers.

The attraction had been genuine, the intensity of their kisses like long-time lovers, the reciprocation he had felt in each of Haein’s strokes and caresses had led him to think that there could be something beyond the cover of the night.

Jeongguk should have tried to stay awake, should have talked to Haein, should have made his intentions clear. He should have at least mentioned that he wanted to see Haein again, should have confessed that he wanted to get to know Haein for real.

He’s gotten it all wrong, in thinking that it would be the start of something new, in assuming that his passion was reciprocated, in hoping that Haein would stay.

Jeongguk’s heart revolts against the very thought that it had been a mere physical act. He can’t shake off the feeling there had been more to what transpired than a mere one-night-stand, but maybe—the thought strikes him painfully—he had been alone in feeling that way.

☆

Taehyung’s studio is buzzing with activity when Jeongguk lets himself in through the front door, paper cups teetering dangerously in one hand.

Jeongguk finds Taehyung in the middle of rolls of fabric, a sketchbook in his hand as he exchanges rapid-fire words with his assistant, as the rest of the seamstresses and tailors flitter around them.

It’s not an unfamiliar scene, God knows how many times Jeongguk had stumbled on this exact scene, but there is a different kind of nervous excitement in the air.

“Taehyung!”

“Oh! Jeongguk,” Taehyung greets him, eyes holding his gaze for a second before he lowers them back to the paperclip in his assistant’s hand. “What are you doing here?”

Jeongguk had stayed in bed longer than he wanted to, deep in thoughts, before finally deciding that he couldn’t keep wallowing anymore. His schedules are waiting, and he has always been more of a man of action. He decided to drop by Taehyung’s studio, with one purpose in mind.

“First of all, thought I’d drop by with these.” He wiggles the hand holding up the paper cups.

“Is that coffee?”

“Yes, for everyone else.”

“Did you bring iced citron tea for me then?”

“Of course, who do you take me for?”

Taehyung makes grabby hands, and Jeongguk obediently selects the right drink to hand to him, while depositing the holder with the rest of the cups on a side table.

Their fingers brush and Taehyung thanks him softly, still listening to his assistant talk.

Jeongguk cocks his head, scrutinizing Taehyung. Something feels different.

Taehyung won't meet Jeongguk's eyes.

“Taehyung, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Can this wait—oh, fine, Jimin, please wait for me here,” he asks, seeing the stubborn lift of Jeongguk’s chin.

They move towards another corner of the studio that hasn’t been yet claimed in the flurry of activities. Taehyung stops a distance away from Jeongguk, who immediately feels bereft.

“Tae, what’s wrong? You haven’t looked at me properly since I got here.”

Taehyung looks away, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, it’s not… I’m just nervous. I—Look.” He retrieves an envelope from his vest’s inner pocket and hands it to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk opens the card. “Oh my god, you’re invited to Seoul Fashion Week?”

Taehyung nods, a shy smile drawing on his lips.

“Taehyung, this is huge! After years of showing your designs during the off-calendar shows…! They accepted your application?”

“Yeah. They’re giving me one of the presentation slots. It’s not a runway show yet but—”

“No buts. Stepping stones, remember? Paris next, baby!” Taehyung blushes, accepting Jeongguk’s hug. “I’m so proud of you,” Jeongguk mumbles into his shoulder, tightening his hold on Taehyung, hands spread on his best friend’s back in a steadying gesture when he feels him trembling. “You’ve worked so hard, you deserve it all. It’s about time they see you.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung says when they finally part. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you. You’re my day one, Jeongguk.” Taehyung smiles at him, eyes a little teary, and Jeongguk’s answering smile is just as beatific.

“Is this why you didn’t go to the Ball?”

Taehyung starts, his smiling face dropping into a sheepish expression. “Oh, um, yes, I received the invitation just as I got ready, and I… I needed time to process, you know? I went to the studio to check if I had any new design worthy to be presented and then just started drawing out of stress.”

“Silly you. You could have come and shared the news with me, and the Coven. We would have celebrated your new achievement.”

“I—I just want you to have fun at the Ball without me spoiling it. I’m sorry I bailed on you.”

Jeongguk shook his head. “If you needed me, I would drop everything in a heartbeat, Tae.”

Taehyung laughs lightly. “I would never ask you to, but thanks. I would, too.”

“So, the Ball. I—”

Just then, a call of Taehyung’s name makes them turn, and Jimin, Taehyung’s assistant, is standing not too far from them, looking at Taehyung intently.

Taehyung winces. “Sorry, I should go back. This whole Fashion Week thing has my entire team stressed. We… We can talk later?”

Jeongguk is reluctant, but he nods. Something nags at him, but he doesn’t want to pry when Taehyung’s mind is on work. “Oh, alright, yes. Shoo, go. Um, but can I do anything to help? I can go, um, grab some coffee?”

“There’s no need, Jeongguk-ah, you just got all of us coffee, remember?” He lays a hand on Jeongguk’s arm as he moves back to the center of the activity, where his assistant and seamstresses are waiting for him. The touch brings no reassurance like it normally would. “You should go back so you’re not late to your schedules. Bye, Gukkie.”

Jeongguk watches him leave, and feels an unfathomable sense of loss.

Jeongguk can’t stop thinking about Taehyung. And Haein too, but he wants to take care of Taehyung first before thinking about anything to do with Haein.

He had wanted to ask Taehyung if he had known someone called Haein in all the years he had frequented the Moonchildren Coven and had attended the Annual Ball, but everything had been forgotten when he had noticed how off Taehyung had been acting.

Had he been overthinking it? Everyone is allowed an off day once in a while, and Taehyung had good reason to be preoccupied.

He thinks about him throughout his dance practice and then his recording session and finally gets sent home because he hasn’t been much use to anyone in meetings brainstorming for his next record.

He’s halfway home when he asks his chauffeur to take him to Taehyung’s. He doesn’t need to give any address, and the U-turn the car makes feels as rough as the lump in his throat.

Taehyung’s apartment is in a luxurious residence, and there’s a large Christmas tree that has been erected even though Halloween was just yesterday, twinkling lights with fancy ornaments greeting its residents in the gardens. But Jeongguk pays them no heed as he punches in the code to let himself inside the grand foyer, as he calls for the elevator and ends up climbing the stairs because he feels too jittery and impatient.

The staircase is a bit further from Taehyung’s door, and Jeongguk quickens his steps, his entire being feeling like it’s narrowed on one single focus, which is to get to Taehyung.

He rounds the hallway then stops abruptly, taking in the sight in front of his eyes.

He gets to Taehyung, but it’s nothing like he’s imagined.

Taehyung is crying in Jimin’s arms in front of his apartment, his crumpled form on the ground illuminated by the lightbulb above his door, his shaking visible even under the layer of his coat.

The sound of his sobs is muffled in Jimin’s shoulder, but the hallway is quiet.

The pair hasn’t noticed Jeongguk, so he immediately ducks back behind the wall, into the shadows, holding his breath. He knows instinctively, despite not understanding why, with a strange sense of dread, that he shouldn’t be here. That he would not be welcomed if he had stepped up to them.

“I’ve got you.” He hears Jimin say, his voice low and soothing. He imagines him tightening his arms around Taehyung. “It’s going to be okay, teddy bear, come on, don’t cry, it breaks my heart.”

There’s some shuffling, and then he hears Taehyung’s voice, wobbly, interrupted by hiccups. “I’m so stupid. What did I think was going to happen? That he was going to— magically, somehow, recog— I’m not in some fairytale. He would never know.”

“In his defense, you didn’t go about it half-assedly,” Jimin says gently, voice teasing. Jeongguk imagines Jimin patting his hair softly.

“Well, if he ends up realizing it, he doesn’t want me anyway.” Taehyung’s little laugh is full of tears, sobs escaping unbidden once more.

“You don’t know that.” Jeongguk imagines Jimin gathering him back into his arms.

On his side of the darkened wall, Jeongguk stands there, fists clenching at his sides, forcing his feet to remain rooted to the ground.

He had been right. He had not been overthinking. His instinct has never steered him wrong when it comes to Taehyung, not when they’ve known each other for so long, when they’ve been each other’s family for years.

Something is wrong, terribly wrong, if it could reduce his best friend, his strong, bright Taehyung, to tears like this.

But Taehyung hadn’t wanted to come to Jeongguk.

Helplessness drives through him like a knife.

Jeongguk sends Taehyung a message the next day, asking if they can meet. It remains unanswered for a whole day before Taehyung sends back a curt reply, saying he’s sorry but that he’s too busy.

Taehyung continues to act strangely, reschedules their weekly catch up, declines Jeongguk’s invitations for lunch, and stops calling Jeongguk every other day for mindless chatter when he needs to work overtime and wants company in his empty workshop.

Nothing like this has ever happened in their 20-something history, and Jeongguk feels lost, not knowing how to reach his best friend. He keeps trying anyway. As soon as he’s done with filming content, or performing, or recording, he would be on his phone, messaging or calling Taehyung. He’s dropped by the studio a few times, but Taehyung hasn’t been there.

If he didn’t know better, he would say that Taehyung is avoiding him, but why would he? They had been fine.

In between working and coming up with ways to see Taehyung, he thinks about Haein.

Almost as much as he thinks about Taehyung, and he’s a little guilty about it.

He’s never met someone like Haein. He had never felt so immediately attracted, so immediately enamored. Jeongguk is usually wary of strangers, in part because of the nature of his job, and mostly because he is a shy person. But Haein had made him feel completely at ease. When they had danced, when they had talked, when they had slept together, there had been a connection there. Jeongguk knows, with strange certainty, that it wasn’t only physical.

Sometimes the memories would hit him out of nowhere. Haein’s eyes would appear in his mind while he’s recording a love song. When the longing gets too strong, Jeongguk thinks about searching for Haein. He wouldn’t know where to start, but at least he will be able to say that he had tried.

Haein clearly does not want to be a part of Jeongguk's life in any way, so he shouldn't be thinking of him. There is no point.

Haein was one moment in time, and he needs to leave the moment to rest in the past.

☆

Jeongguk finally sees the light at the end of the tunnel.

Haein hadn't suddenly reappeared, but Jeongguk has a fitting session with Taehyung today, finally seeing his best friend in person after what feels like weeks.

Award seasons are coming up, and Jeongguk has had his manager send Taehyung’s studio the list of shows he is going to attend.

He hadn't planned on going to them, until the Great Avoidance happens and he's immediately switched gears. He’d immediately agreed to them all, even to MC some of those where he was not nominated for any award. Taehyung doesn't have to know that he's intentionally making Taehyung work, so that they meet up more.

He misses Taehyung. He hadn't realized how embedded their routines are until Taehyung is suddenly too busy for him. His manager no longer comes in to announce that Taehyung's arrived to get him for lunch, and he's taken to ask Jeongguk if he should drive Jeongguk straight home after his schedules. Before, he would always drop Jeongguk off at Taehyung's workshop before clocking. Taehyung would have been there waiting for Jeongguk, ready to hear about Jeongguk's latest show or give him feedback on a new song.

Jeongguk doesn't remember the last time he got to relax in Taehyung's presence after a long day. Who can blame him now for resorting to dirty tactics to get some much-needed quality time with his best friend?  

All of his scheming is almost forgotten as he takes in Taehyung's face. He looks tired, and worn out. He almost regrets it.

"Taehyung, what's wrong? You look terrible,” he says, while standing in the middle of the room, Taehyung and his assistants fluttering around him.

"Always so flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Nothing's wrong, I'm just tired."

"Don't lie to me, don't start now. We've never lied to each other, hyung." He doesn’t like that they have an audience right now, but he gets the distinct feeling that Taehyung would not want to talk to him privately, so this is the only way any conversation is happening at all.

"It's really nothing, Jeongguk. Just a lot on my plate lately."

"I can't just sit around and do nothing when you clearly are suffering. I can't stand seeing it."

Taehyung sighs, and Jeongguk is gripped with panic that he's never known before. Taehyung is unreadable and closed off, and Jeongguk doesn't know how to reach him. "Jeongguk. I'll get over it. It's something I need to work on myself, to think about on my own."

"But you shouldn't have to. You've always shared everything with me before, hyung."

"Sometimes you just can't be with me through everything, Jeongguk-ah,"

Jeongguk opens his mouth to rebuke the other's words, every molecule of his body protesting, rejecting what he is hearing. He has been through everything with Taehyung for as long as he can remember. Why is it changing now? How can it change? 

Before he can say anything, Jimin wounds a measuring tape around his neck. The measuring tape is made of cloth that is soft, but the same can’t be said about the way Jimin is pressing it against his skin.

He glares at Jimin, now suspecting foul play. Jimin’s smile is innocent.

Jeongguk remembers what he saw that night in front of Taehyung’s apartment, and Jimin is clearly trying to protect Taehyung. In normal circumstances, he would appreciate that Taehyung has such people in his corner, but it’s not the same when the person they’re trying to protect Taehyung from is Jeongguk. 

Jeongguk glances at Taehyung, who doesn’t notice, completely focused on leafing through a thick notebook full of sketches with his assistants. Just then, sensing Jeongguk’s gaze, he lifts his head, stepping closer.

“Okay, unfortunately you will have to come back. Half of these need to be altered. And I think some of these are missing a ‘Wow factor’.”

“I did lose some weight lately from the concerts. Sorry, Tae.”

Except that he’s not very sorry about it, because it means he can come back and look after Taehyung.

Except that the second fitting goes just as bad as the first.

It’s just the two of them this time, and without everyone distracting them, Jeongguk takes a good look at Taehyung. He looks even more exhausted. His clothes are a little rumpled, and Taehyung has always been someone meticulous with his appearance. He would never step out with stained bloused or wrinkled pants.

"Taehyung, maybe we should drop this. I should just buy something ready-made somewhere, ask one of the brands who sponsor me..."

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"Taehyung, please. I'm worried."

"Don't be, I can manage. I would never let you wear someone else's clothes on such special occasions, Jeongguk, you know it. We've promised each other, from way back."

"I know, and I'm grateful for it, but it’s making you overwork yourself. One time isn’t breaking your promise."

"Is it so wrong to be devoted to your friend?"

"No, but I don't want it if it means you're not taking care of yourself. You have too much work to prepare for Seoul Fashion Week, and you don’t need more on your plate."

"All I'm hearing is that you're rejecting me."

"Gosh, stop being dramatic. Why would I reject you? I've never denied you anything."

"You have, just now."

"Come here, you," Jeongguk tells him, sitting down on the couch in the middle of Taehyung's studio. Taehyung comes closer, and Jeongguk tugs at his hand, making him lay down with his head on Jeongguk's lap.

Taehyung's hair is messed up in the most adorable way, strands sticking out in the aftermath of a lot of frustration.

They've never minded skinship, are quite used to being squashed against each other, and had gotten through living in cramped quarters back when they had nothing to their name and only each other.

But this hasn’t happened in weeks. Taehyung hadn’t let him close in weeks, and Jeongguk misses him terribly. He brings his hand to Taehyung's head and starts caressing his hair, messing it up even more. Taehyung ruffles his hair a lot daily, but Jeongguk rarely returns this affectionate gesture. Now, he wonders why, as he threads his fingers through the brown spread on his lap, feeling the silken strands.

"What are you doing?"

"Close your eyes."

"Are you trying to get me to take naps? You know how I am with naps."

"I do not understand why you can't just... sleep at will."

"Not everyone is you, Jeongguk-ah."

"Come on, indulge me."

Jeongguk continues to brush through Taehyung's hair, humming a soft melody under his breath. Taehyung used to say he loves Jeongguk singing to him.

Taehyung's breath finally deepens after long minutes. Jeongguk just watches him. Finally, he's breathing again. Finally, it feels like he's back in orbit, because he's back in Taehyung's orbit. 

In his sleep, Taehyung looks younger, no longer stressing the way he's been doing over the last few weeks. Jeongguk wishes once more that he would find out what's bothering Taehyung, but Taehyung has remained mum. Jeongguk knows it must be more than work. Jeongguk knows how Taehyung looks in his work mode, how he would forget to take care of himself when inspiration strikes, or what a stress-induced creative phase looks like.

Taehyung had not been focused on work at all, despite working on Jeongguk's designs and the ones for Seoul Fashion Week. Jeongguk can see that his thoughts are far away, even though his hands go through the motions like a well-oiled machine.

Laying his head back, he thinks about the conversation he overheard earlier when he arrived.

"I swear, he's been acting really strange since the day of the Seoul Fashion Week's announcement,” Hoseok, one of Taehyung’s people, is saying when Jeongguk steps through the door. “I would have thought that he would be happier about it."

"Gossiping about your boss, Hoseok-hyung?" Jeongguk asks, trying to go for a teasing tone that would not betray his interest. “What do you mean?”

"You didn't notice? Well, we received the news while we were decorating the shop for Halloween, so he told us that we might as well celebrate that night. Except that he never showed up. He was absent from both studios the whole night right, nobody knew where he was, while we were all celebrating. And then the entire week he was just, I don't know, a little tired and despondent. We all could tell that something was on his mind."

Jeongguk scarcely wants to deal with the conclusions that are slowly writing themselves in his mind.

Taehyung had lied to him, on that morning after the Ball, when he said he spent the entire evening at his studio. Where was he on that night?

Jeongguk decides that he needs help, so he goes to find Jimin, when he isn't wielding a measuring tape.

"Fancy seeing you here, Jeongguk."

"Hey."

"Woah, don't look so happy to see me!"

"Sorry. Just a lot on my mind."

Jeongguk finds himself spilling out everything.

"I saw you and him, that day, you know. He was crying so hard in your arms. But he doesn't want my help."

"Sometimes, you're just not the right person."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe this is something that you can't help. Things like this happen, Jeongguk. Maybe he thinks you can't relate. Maybe he wants to work it out himself, for once. Even as best friends, you're not entitled to everyone's thoughts and feelings."

"But... We've never... We've never been without each other," Jeongguk says, lost. 

"Maybe it is time to be apart for a little while? Look, you guys are always going to be best friends, I'm not going to deny the fact. But Taehyung is clearly going through something and you're clearly unwanted, so you should give him space."

“That’s asking a lot from me.”

"Do you know just how absurd you sound right now? You're talking as if you can't exist without him, Jeongguk." 

It’s the last of the fitting sessions, and Jeongguk is desperate to think of a reason to keep coming back, because whatever it is that is going on between Taehyung and Jeongguk, it hasn’t improved at all. He feels stir-crazy, running in circles in his thoughts, being confronted with the walls Taehyung puts up. 

He's been distracted at work, completely useless in sessions with his producing team because all he seems to be able to do these day is write songs about missing a dear friend. There's no motivation to perform in front of his fans, when the person he wants to see the most isn't in the audience. He still gives his best, because he's grateful and a professional, but the lack of the familiar silhouette in the VIP stands leaves him hurt in ways he's never known. 

He no longer finds joy in scrolling social media after a red carpet appearance, because everyone would be commenting on how he's wearing clothes from Kim Taehyung, admiring their friendship, praising them for having a thriving personal relationship that translate into professional success. He can't stomach it when he knows what's going on behind the scenes is much more gloomy. 

Like now, how Taehyung is standing close to him but he feels miles apart. He hasn't even smiled in Jeongguk's direction today.  

“Okay, Gukkie, it should be good now. You’re going to be perfect when you receive that award for the third time. A record, Jeongguk-ah!” Taehyung says, crouching to tug at Jeongguk's leg pants.

That's when Jeongguk sees it.

A dark spot of skin on the side of Taehyung's neck.

Heart-shaped.

The exact same shape as Haein’s birthmark. The one he had kissed that night.

☆

At first, there's bewilderment.

Jeongguk is reeling. The stranger he thought he met for the first time and liked, turns out to be someone he knew all along.

He has had sex with Taehyung.

He had been with his best friend.

He hooked up with his best friend for one night. He had liked it enough to want to pursue something more.

Something more with his best friend. With Taehyung. 

With Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung. 

Thinking back on that day, Jeongguk doesn't know how he got through the rest of the fitting with Taehyung. He knows he must have been weird, because Taehyung repeatedly asks him if he's okay, and he turns all of his words back on him.

“Nothing's wrong, I'm just tired.”

“It's really nothing. Just a lot on my plate lately.”

“The concert the other day wiped me out.”

Taehyung gives up soon after, clearly frustrated that Jeongguk is being petty, but he knows he doesn’t have room to talk.

Jeongguk feels guilty, but what else could he have done?

Tell Taehyung, I've just realized that you were the one I slept with weeks ago?

That you are the one I ended up liking and have been searching for all along?

Now, weeks later, he still wrestles with the image of the birthmark on Taehyung’s neck. Jeongguk had seen the birthmark on Taehyung, years ago, but he never made the connection with the one on Haein, too caught up in being with Haein, too caught up in trying to figure out what was going on with Taehyung.

He doesn’t understand, and he is a little angry about the deceit. Has it been for a joke? Is Taehyung trying to string him along for a hoax? Did Taehyung feel pity for him, because he has complained about being single and has confessed to wanting to meet someone?

It’s his turn to avoid Taehyung. Not that it is very hard to do. The Great Avoidance just becomes mutual, is all. 

He has asked his manager to go pick up his clothes, instead of dropping by like he usually would so Taehyung can see the final looks on him. He tells his manager to come up with some excuse, because he himself couldn’t find a single good reason to explain to Taehyung why he’s breaking up a long-held tradition between him and Taehyung.

Well, maybe he can.

But he’s not ready.

Jeongguk lets the unfamiliar hands put the blazer on him, pat his shoulders down, pull the belt around him. He misses Taehyung’s hands on him, but the thought makes him think unspeakable thoughts about his best friend. He feels guilty about it, and the more guilt he feels, the more he thinks about it.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about what he did to the birthmark, how he had sucked a mark there. He tries his hardest to not think about it, only for his mind to replay the scenes of their night together in slow motion, how their bodies had slid against each other, how they had made out and touched each other all over. He's seen Taehyung's naked body, has learnt the sounds of his pleasure, has experienced one of the most intimate acts a person can engage in with his best friend. 

His mind is a jumbled mess, far away from the present, but he doesn’t fail to note that all the outfits were perfectly fitted to Jeongguk. He isn’t surprised, Taehyung never lets anyone else make Jeongguk’s clothes, to ensure that every stitch is perfect, every seam flawless.

He feels beautiful, wearing Taehyung’s clothes, ready to shine, but he just can’t focus on any of the gigs. He goes through rehearsals in automatic motions, singing his lines and going through the choreography on pure muscle memory.

When he comes on stage, he manages a little more successfully to focus on the sea of people chanting his name, and manages to interact with the crowd and focus on his songs, putting in the emotions and singing the sweet, emotional way he’s known for, that Taehyung loves.

Taehyung isn’t in the crowd tonight. Jeongguk tries not to dwell on it, having known it since he didn’t show up earlier, but it still feels like a part of him is missing. Taehyung has never missed one of his shows before, especially if Jeongguk’s wearing his clothes.

It’s the latest in the series of strange behaviors Taehyung has been exhibiting for a while now, but now Jeongguk knows why.

Now he knows why, and he’s desperate to ask Taehyung, why.

He calls Taehyung, one night. He just wants to hear his voice.

"Jeongguk?"

Something works in his throat, scratching and threatening to spill out, but Jeongguk cannot bring himself to open his mouth. He thinks of the shape the words will take, a knife that cuts through their fragile bond, if they could take any other shapes to salvage their friendship.

"Jeongguk, are you there? Is everything okay?"

"Tae."

"Yes?"

"Would..." Would you ever lie to me? “Can…” Can you tell me I got it all wrong?

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jeongguk imagines the way he perks up at the weird inflection in Jeongguk's voice, the little furrow he would have between his brows trying to reach Jeongguk.

"Can… Can I come over? Are you home?"

Jeongguk can hear his hesitation, because he knows that Taehyung doesn't want him there, but he's still Jeongguk's best friend, and he can hear that something is not right.

"I... I'm not home, Jeongguk. I'm still at the workshop."

"Oh." His choice, it's predictable. How the answer would sink like poison in Jeongguk's veins, that's predictable, too. "Right. Sorry, I didn't want to bother you."

"You never bother me, Jeongguk. What did you need from me?”

“No, I’m good. I just… Miss you.”

“I'm sorry that I'm so busy these days... Rain check?"

"It's okay," he says when it is not.

They exchange a few more pleasantries that Jeongguk doesn't really register. He responds to Taehyung on an automatic mechanism that is installed deep inside him, that would not let him see that something is wrong unless he knows to fix it, that would never allow him to lash out Taehyung despite his anger and incomprehension, that would always prompt Jeongguk to soothe his hurts before they can scar.

Jeongguk stands there on the street, in the rain that darkens the whole night, Taehyung's voice in his ear, watching the way the bright lights spill out from Taehyung's apartment.

Jeongguk goes back to the Moonchildren Coven.

Coming back within the walls of this place only brings back the memories from the Ball, and they somehow become more vivid. It’s like a film reel of that night slowly unraveling, the images appearing one by one, clearly, in front of his eyes, for him to dissect every grain.

He combs through them to try and understand. He just finds more evidence incriminating Taehyung. Taehyung, who had appeared at the Ball as Haein.

He remembers how Haein had said that it was Jeongguk’s first time here. But Haein couldn’t have known that, Jeongguk knows with certainty that he hadn’t shared the fact.

He remembers how Haein reacted when he brought up Taehyung. How Haein had defended the witches, how he said he had known the Coven for a long time, how he had a sister, how he had easily found the light switch at Jeongguk’s apartment.

Jeongguk knows they’re not mere coincidences.

The High Priestesses appear before him, still as mysterious as the first time they’ve met. They’re unmasked now, and they greet him with an emotionless face but their eyes are kind.

"Did you invite someone named Haein?"

"We can't tell you that, Jeon Jeongguk."

"Please, it's important."

The High Priestesses look at him, impassive, and Jeongguk feels like he's entirely open to them, that they know all of the questions circling his head.

Taehyung has known them for years. If he had appeared that night as Haein, Jeongguk doesn’t doubt that they would have known.

“Do you know why he did that? You knew, didn't you?” Jeongguk asks, voice raising. “Tell me I’m not going crazy!” he cries out, throwing his hands in exasperation.

“Jeon Jeongguk. Be mindful of your tone. This is a sacred place.”

“Sorry,” Jeongguk mumbles, immediately ashamed. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he turns around, ready to leave when the High Priestesses start talking again. 

“Because it is a sacred place, we do not just let anyone in. We do not let too many come close.”

He's silent for a moment. “I think I understand, High Priestesses. Thank you.”

“May your path be filled with light and truth, Jeon Jeongguk.”

After that, the anger becomes a little more muted. Jeongguk finds a little more clarity.

He knows his best friend, and he doesn’t believe for one moment that Taehyung is purposely trying to hurt Jeongguk, or setting him up. The visit to the Coven has cemented the belief, when they reminded him that Taehyung is one of their rare guests for a reason.

Jeongguk trusts Taehyung’s heart.

There must be a reason why Taehyung did it, and Jeongguk is not seeing it. But he’s determined to find out.

He wants his best friend back.

The weeks turn into a month, then two, then three.

Jeongguk gets carried away with work, and before he knows it, he sees more Taehyung through newspaper print than in person. He doesn't seek Taehyung out either, afraid of the words that will spill out of him. He wants to be calm and know what to say to Taehyung, and right now he is not there yet. He doesn't want to hurt Taehyung.

So the Great Mutual Avoidance is still very much ongoing, and Jeongguk is none too happy about it, but there's not much he can do.

He sees news about Taehyung at fashion weeks regularly. He’s beautiful and elegant as ever, thriving in his field, glowing from the industry’s recognition. Jeongguk is so proud of him.

There’s one piece of news that makes Jeongguk pace his room in restless strides. At the end of his show at the Milan Fashion Week, he walks the runway with his vedette, model Park Hyungsik. He’s a close friend of Taehyung, and Jeongguk has met him a few times. He’s never been blind to the way Hyungsik looks at Taehyung, but there’s never been any sign of reciprocation from Taehyung.

Until now.

Jeongguk sees it in the way Taehyung stands close to Hyungsik in the pictures, the way his hand holds Hyungsik’s, the smile Taehyung sends him under the shining light of the stage. He can practically taste the thought that would come to the front of everyone’s mind at the pictures.

There’s a simmering, ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach he doesn't want to address; a tight feeling in his chest telling him that there’s not much time left.

He gets the sense that if he doesn’t do anything, if he doesn’t find Taehyung soon, Taehyung will slip away from him.

That night, Jeongguk dreams.

The dream is so vivid.

He’s back in his apartment on Hallow’s Eve, intertwined with someone in his bed, in the throes of passion.

The mask is Haein’s from the Ball, but in the dream Jeongguk had been able to remove it, and the face underneath is none other than Taehyung's.

The dream flashes in dark red lighting, and Taehyung is sometimes plunged into darkness, but his presence is so solid. Every single one of his features are so painfully familiar to Jeongguk, but what is new is the way his eyes screw up in pleasure, the way his mouth hangs slightly open, letting out deep groans. The Jeongguk of this dream had been holding onto dream Taehyung's hands, giving him leverage to ride him. He had mouthed at Taehyung’s heart-shaped birthmark on his neck, kissing it, paying with the spot with his teeth, while thrusting up into Taehyung.

Jeongguk bucks his hips up and wakes up with a start.

When Jeongguk comes to, he's so disoriented. He's sweating, and so painfully hard.

He brings a hand to his cock, closes his eyes and tries to remember the details of the dream. Tries to bring Taehyung back against him.

His hand moves faster, the precum making the slide easier, groaning when he rubs his thumb against the head of his cock. He tries to remember the dream, the way Taehyung’s hands, his mouth, his entire body had wrapped around Jeongguk. He brings back the memories from the night with Haein, picturing Taehyung's face, picturing Taehyung doing all the things Haein's done.

Because Haein had been Taehyung, and because Jeongguk had been wanting Taehyung all this time.

He spills all over his hand and stomach, long sighs falling out of his mouth at each strong burst of come. Even when the heat finally dies down, the mantra of Taehyung's name doesn't.

When he finally settles, the guilt floods in with the realization that he had pleasured himself to the image of his best friend.

Had dreamed of fucking his best friend, had become aroused in his sleep from it, had pleasured himself to the images produced by his imagination. He had come from it.

He gets out of his bed, changing into clean clothes, needing to move his body to stop stewing in his thoughts. He then steps out on his balcony, breathing in the night air, watching the occasional car passing by and the high-rise buildings, feeling himself calm down.

He wonders what Taehyung is doing, if he’s also dreaming of Jeongguk.

And when it clicks, he wants to laugh a little at his own idiocy.

The maelstrom of feelings, since he had discovered that Haein is Taehyung, they’re because he couldn’t accept that he felt desire towards Taehyung. He might have felt deceived, but he had been more angry at himself for still wanting Taehyung. He hasn’t let himself think too much about that night since he’s figured out that he had been with Taehyung, because deep down he knew he didn’t feel the things he should have felt. He didn’t feel revulsion from having sex with his childhood best friend.

He liked it.

The truth is that discovering who Haein really is had changed his perception of Taehyung, and had made him see Taehyung in a completely different light. He always knew that Taehyung is a beautiful man, but he hadn’t ever allowed himself to feel attracted to his best friend.

He had been in denial all those weeks until the dream slapped him with the right conclusion, that he could and did want Taehyung.

His best friend, who has been his guiding light for his entire life, who he cannot live without. Being away from Taehyung had been unbearable, but he had to wait to see Taehyung with another man to be spurred into action.

So he goes to Taehyung's place first.

It’s two in the morning, and he’s probably a little insane.

Taehyung is not home. Jeongguk tries to push his worry aside, his best friend is probably still at the studio.

He lets himself him, managing with no difficulty because his fingerprint is saved. He finds Haein's—Taehyung's robes from the Ball half-hidden behind the gigantic mirror in Taehyung's living room, rolled into a ball like Taehyung had ripped it off his body and threw them all tangled up together away from him. Jeongguk can imagine it well, the image bringing a small smile to Jeongguk before he's reminded that Taehyung never treats clothes like that. He must have been in a state when he arrived home from his night with Jeongguk, who hadn’t even managed to take care of him properly after sleeping with him.

The sight of the robes doesn't make him feel anything. He had been certain for a while now of Haein’s identity, of what really transpired at the Ball between them. He’s looking for something else.

He turns back to the desk. The sight of the papers spilling on Taehyung's desk makes him stop short.

There are sketches upon sketches of all of Jeongguk's outfits. Sketches that dated from his first ever show, his first ever televised interview, his first ever concert. Sketches for future occasions. Designs that Jeongguk recognized have been turned into reality, designs that have been scrapped and Jeongguk had never seen, had never even imagined that he could pull off.

And then there are the sketches of his face, his side profile, his mouth and the mole underneath it, his eyes. In charcoal, in black ink, in quick scribbles, in detailed strokes, in cartoonish doodles.

Sometimes there are some words written, like weightless thoughts that spilled out when Taehyung daydreams, bored of drawing.

He opens another leather-bound notebook.

On the very first page:

Jeongguk freezes. It's a calligram.

A written poem arranged in the shape of Jeongguk’s face. He reads, following the cursive handwriting that is as familiar to him as his own: 

one, the wet floors with the caution signs

two, the dates circled in red on my calendar

three, the hot coffee that always burns my tongue

the dimples that make me stare

the eyes that consume my dreams

the path leading to your room where I linger

the red on my cheeks when you look at me

the in-betweens I long to cross

the words that beg to confess

- “things I have to be careful about”

He thinks about a few months ago. After a trip back from Paris, Taehyung had been gushing about a French poet who wrote calligrams, about how romantic it was that he wrote a poem about his lover in the shape of her. At the time, all Jeongguk could think about was that some men were reciting French love poems to Taehyung in Jeongguk’s absence. But now, here, he wishes he had paid more attention.

Is this a love poem?

What does it mean when one writes a poem in the shape of you?

What does it mean that Taehyung wrote a poem about things he has to be careful about and it forms the image of Jeongguk?

What is Taehyung trying to say?

The words tremble in Jeongguk's mind, the way his hands are shaking.

He looks around Taehyung’s desk again, the notebook with the calligram opened in the middle of Taehyung’s personal mess, Taehyung’s personal world.

It’s the way that Jeongguk seems like he's always on Taehyung's mind, that Taehyung's entire work and life has space for Jeongguk, that Taehyung has always made him the main character.

It’s the way that Taehyung knows Jeongguk's face by memory to replicate it on paper, because Jeongguk is sure he would have noticed it if Taehyung had been drawing him. He hasn't done that since their school days.

Jeongguk takes in the tangible proof of his place in Taehyung’s life.

This is the sign he hadn’t known he wanted.

This is the truth he has not been seeing.

Even with two functioning eyes, he had not been able to see reality with clarity. He had not been able to see the truth about Taehyung, about their friendship, about his own feelings.

Taehyung loves him.

And he loves Taehyung back.

☆

Jeongguk finds himself once more in front of Taehyung’s door. The old studio.

He has yet to ring the bell, but it’s like he can feel Taehyung’s presence on the other side, and that makes him nervous.

He knows the code to enter by heart, but he knows Taehyung is here, so he doesn't dare. It's almost four in the morning. He’s being unreasonable, and  Taehyung would be totally in his right to choose to ignore suspicious activity in front of his door. 

He nearly doubles back. This is irrational. This can ruin a lot of things. If he thinks about it really hard, all he has is assumptions. Even if Taehyung loves him, if that’s true, he might still not want anything to do with him, especially when Jeongguk had been so oblivious.

The door swings open as he's about to run, revealing Taehyung, who is in his day clothes but looks like he’s just been woken up. There's a line across his cheek, like he's fallen asleep on something. It's silly, but the sight of it calms Jeongguk down. It's his best friend, and Jeongguk knows him the best of all.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. “Taehyung.”

“Jeongguk?” Taehyung squeaks. He clears his throat. “What are you doing here? It’s… Four in the morning. You should be asleep.”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course, yeah, sure. You woke me up from a nap. I fell asleep on my desk.”

Jeongguk frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He follows Taehyung into the main space of the old studio, goes for the armchair that is his, while Taehyung sits on the other side of the coffee table.

As a fashion designer, Taehyung’s hands are steady in everything he does, decisive when he wields his scissors like a weapon, practised when he drapes velvet and satin over his models, quick when he wraps his measuring tape around necks and arms.

But now, Jeongguk’s eyes zero on Taehyung’s hands, and they are anything but precise. His hands flutter around nervously, gathering his finished and unfinished sketches scattered on the coffee table in a haphazard pile, before moving said pile to the shelf underneath the coffee table, where a pile of fabrics is already taking residence, and then changing his mind and standing up to stuff them in a box on the bookcase where Jeongguk knows Taehyung uses to keep newspaper articles that mention Jeongguk’s name.

“Sorry for barging in like this, at this hour, but I couldn’t wait,” he finally says, breaking the silence as Taehyung comes back to sit on the couch, eyes avoidant, hands now curled in a loose fist.

“It must be important. Tell me, Gukkie. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Always so earnest, always so devoted, his Taehyung.

“I… I really like someone. I cannot stop thinking about him.” Jeongguk blurts out, and doesn’t miss the way Taehyung flinches. He stops looking at the pattern of the floor, and lifts his head, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes for a fleeting second before lowering his gaze again.

“Oh. I did not think that this is what we will talk about,” Taehyung says flatly. “Okay, um, I wasn’t aware you had time to meet anyone lately.”

“I met him very recently. It wasn't intentional. I didn't expect to like him. He made a good impression on me, he knew who I was but he just treated me normally.”

“That’s a good sign, Gukkie,” Taehyung mumbles, sensing that Jeongguk is gauging his reaction. Jeongguk tries to catch Taehyung’s eyes, but the latter keeps his gaze resolutely on the fabrics, his fingers reaching out to fidget with the corner of a sparkly cloth.

“It is, I like him a lot,” Jeongguk dares to say, and watches the way Taehyung’s fingers tighten minutely on the piece of fabric in his hand. “He made me comfortable instantly. And you know how shy I am with strangers. I want to ask him to be my boyfriend.”

"You should... You should, if he agrees, and if you're sure about him, you should introduce us." If Jeongguk hadn't known Taehyung for practically his whole life, he wouldn’t have caught the quiver in Taehyung’s voice.

Always so brave, his Taehyung.

“You’re right, I really should. Because I’m sure.” Jeongguk stands up, moves closer to Taehyung, holds his hand. He can see the beginnings of tears in Taehyung’s eyes, and he feels his eyes sting, too.

“Now? ”

“Yes, because he makes me feel a lot of things I didn’t know I could. I want him to meet the most important person of my life.” He pulls Taehyung with him, not minding his feeble protests, moving him across the room until they’re standing in front of a mirror. He pulls Taehyung in front of him, putting his hands on his hips to angle him right. He meets Taehyung’s gaze in the mirror. “I met him at the Ball actually. He said his name was Kim Haein…”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in shock.

“...but he didn’t tell me the truth. He didn’t tell me he was my best friend. Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk finishes in a soft, reverent murmur.

“Jeongguk—what? I—You—” Taehyung panics, wanting to turn in Jeongguk’s hold but Jeongguk doesn’t let him. He keeps looking at Jeongguk, face full of wonder. “You said… you said you want to ask him to become your boyfriend?”

“Yes, if he wants it. I’m asking, please.”

“I—Jeongguk, are you being serious? Does that mean—” Taehyung says, freeing himself and turning around, framing Jeongguk’s face with his hands so they can look each other in the eye. “Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lie to you,” Taehyung stammers with sadness painted all over his face.

Jeongguk cups his own hands over Taehyung’s hands. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” he whispers tenderly. “I found out a while ago already, at the studio. You bent over to fix my pants, and I saw that heart-shaped birthmark on the side of your neck… In hindsight, I can’t believe it took me that long to recognize it. I did spend a lot of time kissing it that night…” Jeongguk trailed off, blushing and rubbing his neck bashfully.

Taehyung isn’t faring any better, cheeks dusted pink and heart thumping hard as he registers what Jeongguk is saying. “Ah, I didn’t think to cover those kinds of marks…”

“Will you tell me what happened?” Jeongguk leads Taehyung back to the couch, sitting down first and pulling Taehyung close, who puts his legs on Jeongguk’s lap, while leaning his side on Jeongguk’s chest. Jeongguk sighs from the contact. He’s been missing this, has been dreaming to have this again for weeks now.

Taehyung clears his throat. “I really wasn’t going to go because of how distracted I was by the Seoul Fashion Week news. But then I remembered that you said you would be open to meet someone there, and I couldn’t help thinking that maybe I should be there to see it. I keep trying to tell myself that it’s because I want to vet this person, but truly it is because I want to see who would be able to catch your attention. Maybe I’m a little masochist that way.” He lets out a sad little chuckle, and Jeongguk squeezes his hand.

“You caught my attention.”

“I did,” Teahyung breathes out, wonder in his voice. “I couldn’t believe that you would approach me, that you would ask me to dance. I was so torn. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I… I just really wanted to know what it was like for you to look at me for one night. For once, you seemed interested in me, even if it's a borrowed identity. I just didn’t think it would lead to… more.”

“How did you know it was me anyway?”

“If you weren’t wearing clothes that I designed myself, I wouldn’t have recognized you. And well, the glamour didn’t hide these tattoos,” Taehyung reveals sheepishly, lifting Jeongguk’s left hand to press a shy kiss to the tattoos on his knuckles.

Jeongguk laughs lightly. “You had an advantage. Your disguise worked well, I didn’t suspect a thing during the Ball. But I guess it couldn’t fully hide the familiar touch of your hands. The whole time we were dancing, I kept thinking that it felt like you had already put your hands on me so many times. Same weight. Same comforting touch.”

“Really?” Taehyung looks so pleased by the revelation that Jeongguk can’t help but be terribly endeared. He frees his hand from Taehyung’s grasp to reach up and caress his cheek, thumbing under his eyes and smoothing over his brow.

And then his hand falls lower.

“Yes. And this is going to sound weird, but I recognized your collarbones?” He pushes Taehyung’s collar to the side, tracing Taehyung’s left collarbone lightly with the tip of his fingers.

“My collarbones?”

“Yeah, you have the prettiest collarbones, Taehyung, I always secretly thought so,” Jeongguk says huskily, eyes darkening as they follow the path of his hand from Taehyung’s face down to his chest, and just like that, the atmosphere shifts, tension seeping into the air. “Would have recognized you much earlier if you had shown up naked in front of me. And before you say that—”

“Well, I did!”

“—that you did… I meant showing up as Taehyung.”

“Jeongguk! You would run for the hills.”

"I would not. Taehyung, I have functional eyes and a healthy sex drive.” Taehyung swats at him for the comment. “I just never allowed myself to see you in this light, Taehyung. I never allowed myself to imagine you underneath me, like this.” He lays Taehyung down on the couch, hovering over him, breath fanning across his lips.

Taehyung leans in just as Jeongguk lowers his head, their lips meeting halfway in a kiss. Jeongguk brings his hand behind Taehyung’s nape, angling him for a deeper kiss, pressing close.

He feels Taehyung arch up, pushing himself up against Jeongguk, leaving no space between them, the both of them sighing softly into each other’s mouth at the feeling of fitting together.

“I just didn’t know better,” Jeongguk whispers. “Didn’t know kissing you would feel like this. Like I’d lose my mind.”

He doesn’t stop until Taehyung’s lips are swollen. He pulls away, bringing Taehyung with him. They stand up from the couch, and Jeongguk takes him to the small bedroom that is attached to the studio, where Taehyung stays overnight sometimes, when work gets overwhelming. He smiles when he sees a picture frame of the two of them on the night stand.

Jeongguk lets go of Taehyung’s hand briefly to pull his top off, before laying down on the bed, beckoning Taehyung over to do the same. He signs when their bare skin meets and Taehyung’s mouth descends on him again.

Taehyung tears his mouth away with a groan when he feels Jeongguk slides a hand inside his pants. He palms his hardening length, giving it firm, long strokes that have Taehyung dropping his head and muffling his moans into his shoulder.

“Fuck. We’re really doing this.”

“Yes. I’m literally about to explode, Tae.”

Taehyung’s laugh in response is like sweet bells to Jeongguk, temporarily distracting him from the intensity he feels coursing through his whole body.

“You’re really here, saying my name and not an impostor’s.”

“Finally yours, I swear.”

“Now I’m about to explode.”

Jeongguk makes quick work of prepping Taehyung, lines up his cock with Taehyung's entrance and slides home in a smooth movement. It punches a moan out of the both of them, and Jeongguk’s belly tightens up in a warning as when he sees Taehyung’s eyes roll up in pleasure.

“Jeongguk!”

It’s new, the stupid male smugness that spreads through him. He’s brought his best friend to this state. Taehyung likes doing this with him. He can bring Taehyung a lot of pleasure.

His cock fills Taehyung to the brim as he pounds into him. Being inside Taehyung rips away all of his coherent thoughts, and for several long moments, his mind is blissfully empty, the only awareness centered on the warmth that wraps around him.

If he thinks sex was good with Haein, sex with Taehyung is a thousand times better.

Sex with Taehyung is priceless.

There is nothing he would have given in exchange for this: Taehyung’s body against him, his hands and mouth on him, loving each other in this most primal way.

The feeling of knowing, and being known.

It’s exciting in ways he didn’t realize it could be. Love leads, and even when everything is new, it is safe. So, so safe.

He recognizes a lot of Haein in Taehyung’s reactions, but his mind is quick to catalogue everything as Taehyung. The bridge between all the things that belonged to Haein and those that are Taehyung is quickly built, until Taehyung has fully replaced Haein.

There’s a lot of old Taehyung in this new Taehyung too. The way his eyes look at Jeongguk so brightly, the way he cannot help but smile whenever Jeongguk gazes into his eyes.

“Good?”

“Good. What feels good for you feels a thousand times better for me, sweetheart.” Taehyung turns bright red at the pet name. 

Looking at Taehyung, seeing his tender feelings for Jeongguk, it makes Jeongguk wants to take it slow. He wants to worship Taehyung. He tells him as much.

“Look at me making love to you, Taheyung. It’s you and me, like always.” Taehyung moans at his words, tightening around Jeongguk, who takes that as a sign to wrap a hand around Taehyung’s cock, spurring him on. With every thrust, the blunt head of his cock rams into Taehyung's prostate with precision.

"I think I like brown eyes better than blue eyes," Jeongguk whispers into Taehyung's ear, a small, tender smile on his face. "And your voice. It was sexy before with the glamour, and it is so sexy now. It's been you all along, driving me crazy.”

"Fuck, it feels so good. Dreamed about this," Taehyung babbles.

"Let me hear it, come on," Jeongguk urges, voice low, eyes riveted on Taehyung's. Taehyung comes all over himself with a shout of Jeongguk's name, and the sight makes Jeongguk unravel. “Taehyung, yes, yes, yes.” His rhythm becomes erratic before he slams into Taehyung one last time, coming deep inside Taehyung.

Taehyung kisses Jeongguk’s cheek as he hovers over his face, panting and sweaty. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name.”

“Oh.”

“I… The first time we had sex you didn’t say my name. I’m just getting my fill.”

Jeongguk dives down for a kiss. “Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.” He pecks Taehyung all over his face, making him laugh. “My Taehyung, I love you. Definitely not just as my best friend.”

“And you’re sure that this is not… some misguided attempt to get back at me for lying to you? Or to fulfil a… fantasy for Haein through me?”

“If I didn’t know you better, I would be offended by your questions. Haein is you. You didn’t invent a new personality, did you? All the things I liked about him were all the things I already liked about you. I just needed to stop taking you for granted and see that I wanted something more for us.”

“You don't know how long I've wanted to hear that.”

“Your best friend is dumb, forgive him." Jeongguk caresses Taehyung’s face tenderly, tracing a finger from his eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose, to the side of his mouth. "I've never realized how much I like looking at you until you were out of my sight. Until you come back to me and I can't look away.”

“Right, well, I've always been two steps ahead of you. I've always liked looking at you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Love to see you in clothes I made. Does unspeakable things to me.”

“Be careful what you say,” Jeongguk warns, pressing his softening cock inside Taehyung as if to remind him of its presence one last time, before he slowly pulls out, reluctant. Taehyung sighs as he feels cum trickle out, his hole gaping slightly from Jeongguk’s big cock. Jeongguk's eyes darken even as he retrieves some tissues to clean them up. “I still haven’t got my fill, Tae-ah. I’ve been looking for a repeat of that night for so long that I don’t think once is enough.”

“It’s like five in the morning now, Gukkie. Leave me alone,” Taehyung scolds him, his words belied by his laughter and the way he rolls into Jeongguk’s arms as soon as he lies down.

Jeongguk just kisses his forehead. “You don’t know how crazy I was about you that night. I thought about searching for Haein for a long time.”

Taehyung blushes. “I did think about asking you what you thought of Haein, but I couldn’t bear to talk about the Ball. I had the loveliest time with you, and it killed me to leave you like that after the night we had. But I knew I couldn’t stay and risk damaging our friendship more than what i've already done.”

“But then you started avoiding me anyway.”

“Right. I just couldn’t face you, Jeongguk. I thought I would be able to get you out of my system and move on but... Now that I know what it was like to have you that way… It was impossible not to think about your body while designing your clothes. It was torture.”

Taehyung keeps going redder as the conversation progresses. Jeongguk feels his lips twitch, wanting to smile, despite the seriousness with which they’re both approaching this. They’re lying side by side now, Taehyung’s head pillowed on Jeongguk’s shoulder, hands tangled together, playing with each other’s fingers as they talk.

“I can’t believe that was what was going on, while I thought I did something wrong. I wanted to search for Haein but when you distanced yourself, I just did not think much of him anymore. I needed to get you back, nothing else mattered.” Jeongguk brings one of Taehyung’s hands up to his lips, kissing his knuckles tenderly. “That should have clued me in on how much you truly mean to me, but I’ve been blind for so long.”

“I’m sorry I treated you like that. I’m still so sorry I lied. I could have just talked to you.”

"I forgive you, Tae. I was a little angry at first, but when I sobered up and thought it through, I never believed that you did that to hurt me.” Jeongguk smiles at him.

“No, I would die before I hurt you,” Taehyung says earnestly, and Jeongguk shushes him for being dramatic. “I was just weak. Didn’t think the consequences through, wanted you so bad. Love you so bad.”

Jeongguk smiles at that, feels his cheeks hurting from how much he’s been smiling. His body is exhausted, but he feels wide awake, like he could be running a marathon, fueled by all the soft happiness he’s feeling, all the love he feels for Taeyung. It feels so easy and natural, like a piece of puzzle slotting into place. 

“If you haven’t done what you did, I don’t think we would be able to have this. I’d like to think I’d realize it eventually, but I have made you wait enough, haven’t I?”

Taehyung nods, eyes crinkling in amusement, as he pulls Jeongguk in for a kiss. He kisses with a purpose, angling his head to fit their lips better against each other, and it’s a little alarming how easily Jeongguk melts in his embrace, turning putty with just a touch from Taehyung.

“It’s okay if it’s you,” Taehyung says when they separate. “You’re worth it, every single moment with you is worth it. I could have waited infinitely more.”

☆

many midnights later

“Not gonna lie, I’m glad you didn’t make me wait, baby.”

“I can always do a meet-and-greet another day. I greeted all those that I had to at the beginning of the show.” Jeongguk shrugs, wrapping an arm over Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ve missed seeing you cheering me on and all I want to do now is take you home.”

He looks at the unbidden joy in Taehyung’s eyes, and wonders how he could have gone so long without seeing it, without being showered in this love. He feels the familiar pinch in his chest, thinking about how Taehyung’s had to hide and hurt silently, but he vows to make Taehyung can love loudly, and be loved loudly in return.

“You were so cool on stage, Jeongguk-ah, I’m really proud of you,” Taehyung tells him, opening the car door for Jeongguk and patting him on the head as he enters the car.

The car ride is mostly silent, as Jeongguk rests with his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, while the latter scrolls absentmindedly on his phone. There are smiles on their faces as they play footsies in the little space in front of their seat.

“I didn’t say this earlier, but you looked lovely tonight. Wanted to pull you on stage and kiss you.”

“You say that but you didn’t even notice.” Taehyung smooths a hand down his thigh, and Jeonguk lifts his head from his comfortable perch.

“What?”

“I’m wearing a new dress,” Taehyung says nonchalantly. “Made by yours truly.”

Jeongguk reaches out to tug lightly at the skirt, feeling the silky texture before letting it slip slowly out of his grasp, instead reaching out to pull Taehyung closer. He puts his hand on his hip, squeezing once. “Not to make everything about me but… Black has never been your favorite color.”

“No,” Taehyung agrees, giggling. “Wanna know a secret?” He leans in to whisper into Jeongguk’s ear. “I only made this dress so you can take it off.”