WARNING: Contains mature content

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Seokjin liked to call himself a good friend. He always had been very observant and he was never scared to point out the things he noticed. Some called him picky because of it. He just called it being detail oriented.

The music was banging in the club as he looked down on all the faces on the floor, watching his movements. His skills definitely helped in his job. However, there was one face, he paid the most attention to. Dark hair and small eyes. A tantalizing smile on his lips as he watched him dance.

Yoongi had come to visit him.

He could tell something was wrong. There was something not right in the way his friend smiled at him. Something broken, the light in his eyes shattered, leaving only coldness behind. Yoongi had done it.

With practiced movements Seokjin ripped his trousers on, the sound of buttons popping reaching his ears but there was no more soul to his performance. There was still rowdy cheering from the crowd. They didn’t care about him as long as his clothes weren’t on his body.

Seokjin made last few ing movements, grinding against the floor before jumping down from the stage to dance around some middle aged woman. It was clear she was loaded, a pearl necklace around her neck and expensive high heeled shoes on her feet. While working he had learnt to pick up the signals.

And he was right. Just as the song ended he felt her slip couple of bills down his thong with a wink. Seokjin smiled at her, blowing a kiss and then disappearing to the backstage, Yoongi following behind.

“Nice ,” Yoongi laughed as they entered his dressing room.

He threw the younger boy a wink, shaking his in the bright red thong, “That’s what gets me paid.”

They both sat down, Seokjin throwing a dressing gown over his exposed body before and looking expectantly at Yoongi.

The other just raised his eyebrow, “What?”

“Are you planning to tell me what’s wrong or did you come here just to watch me strip?” Seokjin pressed his lips together, knowing that nothing came easy when it came to Yoongi.

He sighed, “, yes, okay. I broke up with Namjoon.”

“And?”

“What ‘and’ Seokjin? It ing ,” Yoongi sighed again. It had become a bad habit lately. Especially when it came to Namjoon.

Seokjin moved from his spot, next to Yoongi, throwing an arm around him, “I know, Yoongi. But it gets easier. Just give it time.”

The elder felt bad for Yoongi. He remembered his last breakup and how long it took Seokjin to get over it, there were moments in his life when he still missed his ex like every time he walked past an ice cream shop. However, now he was able to look back into past and see that it was much better now. Even if he had to work as a stripper to pay his rent.

“Let's go get some dinner,” Seokjin suggested, standing up. “You can choose the place.”

“You never like the food I choose,” Yoongi frowned, remembering the - fit Seokjin threw at the last Italian restaurant they went to because he didn't like onion in his pasta.

Seokjin threw a glare at him, “It's because your taste buds are dead from all the beer.”

“Sure, if it helps you sleep easier at night.”

……

Namjoon already knew Yoongi was coming. He had sent a text announcing his arrival. But he still didn’t feel ready. The blonde had been preparing himself for this since the morning but the quiet knocks on the door still felt like bullet wounds in his heart.

He didn’t even bother opening the door. Yoongi knew he was inside. The dark wood opened with a click and there he stood. Yoongi. Still the same. Well, almost. There was a sad look in his eyes, pity and longing mixed together.

“You’ve changed your hair,” Namjoon commented.

He laughed, “I guess I needed a change.”

Yoongi shook the ash grey locks, messing them up. The colour weirdly suited well with the situation. His light blue ripped jeans had holes in them. Namjoon remembered how he had helped to cut them up because as Yoongi put it ‘they looked better like this’.

, he looked good. Namjoon felt his stomach falling taking in the slender frame of his, now, ex-boyfriend. “It suits you.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi smiled. “You look good too.”

Namjoon frowned, “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not,” he replied, sitting down on the only chair in Namjoon’s room, “You always do.”

The youngest wanted to get angry, to scream and yell at Yoongi. To burn everything that had been theirs. For breaking his heart, for now coming back into his life after leaving and telling him this. For being so nice. It wasn’t fair. How came Yoongi was so calm, when Namjoon was dying inside?

“I already gathered all your stuff,” the blond pointed at a box on his desk. It held a couple of hoodies and shirts, a textbook Yoongi had forgotten here last week, his old iPod and couple of accessories Namjoon had found while cleaning up the day before. Also an old bottle of wine. Namjoon didn’t like wine.

“Yeah, thanks.” Yoongi sighed, “How have you been, Joon?”

Namjoon laughed bitterly, “Missing you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Yoongi got up, taking the box in his arms.

The younger stood up walking the grey haired male to the door, “Then stay.”

“Namjoon, you know that I can’t,” he said, his voice quiet, indecisive, “I really can’t.”

It was enough for Namjoon, who grabbed Yoongi by his black button-up pulling him closer, whispering against the other’s heart shaped lips, “Just for tonight.”

And then he kissed him.

Yoongi responded, automatically, the box falling out of his arms, his hands finding way into Namjoon’s hair. A gasp escaped him as Namjoon bit his lip, asking for an entrance. His lips parted, letting the blond’s tongue slide between them, tasting the older man. It felt familiar, safe but unexpected. It tasted of despair too, sacrifice and loss.

It was old and new, passion lit between them once again, scorching with such heat, it Namjoon’s heart, finally numbing the pain.

“God, Yoongi,” Namjoon moaned, but Yoongi shushed him, pressing their lips together again, pulling him towards the bed, he heard the bottle clinking as it rolled away but nothing mattered anymore, just Yoongi’s lips and his hands on the blond’s chest.The younger’s hands were fervent, shaking as he buttoned open the graphic shirt, exposing the skin he missed so much.

Their kisses were an inferno, blazing, destroying everything. Namjoon let his lips slide down to Yoongi’s jaw, on it, writing goodbyes on the sharp edges. His hands were on Yoongi’s hips, holding them with everything he had, kindling the fire even more.

Yoongi worked on Namjoon’s jeans zipper, pushing the trousers down until Namjoon had to pull away to take them off, getting rid of his shirt at once. He didn’t want to waste any second, feeling the electricity running through him as Yoongi’s lips attached themselves to Namjoon’s collarbone, nipping on the skin.

Little moans kept escaping Namjoon as Yoongi’s hands grabbed his length, pumping it, his thumb circling his tip, making Namjoon’s hips buckle.

He pulled the rest of Yoongi’s clothes off, attacking his chest, letting his lips leave marks as they slid down until they wrapped around Yoongi, letting his familiar salty taste fill his mouth.Yoongi groaned, his hands wrapping around Namjoon’s blond locks, pushing him down until he was choking on Yoongi’s , tears running down his cheeks.

But Namjoon didn’t know if they were due to air loss or pain, his heart breaking every time Yoongi moaned.

The younger pulled away, flipping Yoongi over, dragging his up in the air, coating his fingers with saliva before inserting them in Yoongi, who hissed, “, Joon, it burns.”

“I know,” he pumped them in and out without mercy, pressing against his walls, curling them inside. Namjoon was hard from all the sounds Yoongi was making, his fingers changing their rhythm, stretching Yoongi out. It was dry and hot inside of him but Namjoon knew every part and crevice of Yoongi, brushing against his prostate, embers flaming behind his eyes. He didn’t stop, feeling Yoongi grind against his hand desperate for more.

He pulled out his fingers, deciding that he was ready, too dire to even search for lube, entering Yoongi raw. He felt their skin meet, almost melting together in their need, their craving for this last moment between them. The elder was grasping the headboard of his bed, his fingers turning white from his strong grip.

Namjoon didn’t want to look Yoongi in the face this time, thankful for their position. It would be too much to see the pleasure on his face, knowing that it was their last time together. His movements were slow but forceful, knowing how much this was hurting Yoongi and part of him almost enjoyed it.  The blond’s hands held tight on the other’s hips, keeping them in place. Yoongi had a bad habit of moving.

“God, stay still,” Namjoon grunted, unable to say anything else. His mind was burning blank and his body was craving for more, incapable of staying slow.

Yoongi cried out, “Joon-” He was in pain just as much as the blond, the familiar touch rubbing circles on his back, a soothing gesture as Namjoon slammed into him, again and again, hitting against his prostate every time.

Over the years they had learnt what each other liked, what felt good and what made them hurt. Nobody’s first time is perfect but their parting moments were.

They felt fulfilled in each other’s hold. Unblemished.

The younger couldn’t hold back, flipping Yoongi around, entering him again. As much as it hurt Yoongi’s face, he was scared to lose the sight of it, scared to forget it. Namjoon wanted to etch his face in his memory, letting his eyes trace every line of Yoongi’s face as he into him, his hand wrapping around the elder’s length, pumping it.

He felt him coming. It coming. The moment which will separate them. Bring them more apart than ever before, despite their closeness.  Yoongi’s breathing quickened too, his chest heaving as he bit his pretty lips, a tear slipping out between his shut eyes.

Namjoon didn’t want to know if it was real.

Never losing his pace, he leaned down to press a single kiss on Yoongi’s lips. Just a second before the grey haired male came, crying out. It was a goodbye kiss, he promised himself.

And then he came too.

……

Taehyung was lying down in the grass in his usual spot behind the gymnasium. There was a lit cigarette between his teeth as Jimin straddled him, his fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt.

“Come on, Tae,” Jimin whined. “There's still half an hour left until our next lesson.”

He laughed, “I'm not in the mood, Chim.”

Jimin pouted, rolling off Taehyung and leaning against the brick wall, “You're never in the mood.”

The dark haired boy looked at Jimin shrugging and taking another drag from his small blunt, a little bit of smoke escaping his mouth. Taehyung didn't like mess and having on grass equaled the exact definition of mess. Also bugs. He did not fancy one of them climbing up his . Yes, Jimin was hot but not hot enough to risk that.

“Why did you colour your hair red? I think black would suit you better,” Taehyung said.

Jimin pursed his lips together, pulling weed from Taehyung’s mouth before answering, “Why not? Besides, birds dig coloured hair.”

Taehyung watched as Jimin took a puff, coughing slightly. Jimin wasn't much of a drinker or a stoner but he liked to pretend to be one because being a alone wasn't enough  Okay he wasn't a but he did like to get around. ing was fun. And he liked fun.

“Good point,” The dark haired male stole back his joint, having the last of it and then dropping it on the ground watching the red disappear, “Let’s go, I can’t be late for maths again.”

“Don’t I even get  a kiss?” Jimin asked getting up.

The other male grabbed the red haired male by his blazer pulling him closer. “Oh, no, what will ChimChim do without his goodbye kiss?”

Jimin moaned feeling Taehyung’s breath hit his lips as he winked, it smelt like weed, sour and herby. The dark haired boy pressed a kiss against Jimin’s lips, lingering there for a few seconds. Just as the other boy tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled away, laughing at Jimin’s baffled expression.

“Meet me at the gates after English and then we can sort something out, ey?” Taehyung left the other boy standing frozen in the spot, his bag hanging heavily from his hand.