Jungkook thinks Taehyung may be a ninja. The man has been skillfully avoiding him since their near miss in the kitchen several days ago. He understands why Taehyung is staying away. What he doesn’t understand is why he finds it so unbearable, why every fiber of his being wants the man near, needs the man near?

  What are you, Taehyung?   Sleep’s been playing a wild game of hide-and-seek with him for the last few nights as well. His bed feels like a sack of potatoes. It’s so lumpy and so hot it seems as though sometime during the night his room had been moved to the fifth layer of hell. Jungkook kicks off the covers in frustration. His pajamas are sticking to his skin, and the material feels like burlap, stiff and itchy; he’s so uncomfortable. An irritated sigh escapes his lips because he knows that none of the discomforts he’s currently experiencing are the reason why his eyes won’t close, nor why his mind can’t seem to quiet down. No, his lack of peace is due to one thing: the memory of Taehyung’s lithe, slender body pressed against his, and how it felt…like the missing piece of a puzzle, like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, like the peanut butter to his jelly?   He shakes his head. What the mind? He sighs again and flips over on his side, forcing his eyes to stay shut. They don’t. They can’t. Even now, days later, he can feel the ghost of Taehyung trembling against him. Jolts of electricity course through his core, and Taehyung’s skin is impossibly soft. His only intention when Taehyung slipped that day was to steady him, but the lanky man landed against him and it felt, it felt so freaking right. His fingers are twitching at the memory. He’s never wanted to touch anything or anyone so badly. He couldn’t stop his hand from gripping Taehyung’s hip, and God, what he’d do to have them there again.   “, brain, stop. Just. Stop.”   However, his mind’s not listening as pictures of Taehyung sinking, falling, almost giving all the way in to his touch flitters behind his eyes like scenes from a movie.   “Ahhh, , stop,” he yells, in a vain attempt to shut out the feeling of Taehyung’s skin against his lips.   He jumps out of bed.   He’s losing the battle.   The hallway is dark as he steps into it. He looks to the left, and his eyes fall on Taehyung’s bedroom door. He can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to fall asleep in Taehyung’s arms.   “, Jungkook, stop. Stop it. You’re a grown man and the villain in this drama. So just ing stop,” he reprimands himself.

 

He walks to the living room and switches on a table lamp before dropping on the couch. He’s physically exhausted, emotionally tired, and mentally drained. He’s lost all his fight, and he hates it, this feeling of helplessness. Jungkook’s always prided himself on being able to tackle any obstacle, leap any hurdle, climb any mountain, but this, this is…too damn much.   “Can’t sleep either?” Taehyung’s voice startles him, and he turns to find a silhouette behind the couch in the dimly lit room.  

“Hyung?” As the question falls from his lips, he wonders how he knows that Taehyung’s older. It hits him that he doesn’t know if the man is older. “Are you a hyung?”

  Jungkook squints his eyes when there is no immediate answer, making sure the figure is still standing behind him.   “Yes,” the man murmurs, and it’s so quiet Jungkook wonders if he actually heard it.   “Can I, I mean would it be okay… can I call you hyung?” Jungkook’s not sure where the question came from. He wasn’t thinking it.   Taehyung doesn’t answer at first, and Jungkook slouches tensely on the couch, wondering if he’ll ever get it right. Will he ever know the right thing to say, to ask?   “Yes.” The reply is almost a whisper, and Jungkook feels the ache in Taehyung’s voice like a slap in the face.

 

“Why are you up, hyung?” As the question leaves his lips, it dawns on Jungkook that he knows why.

  He knows why.   Taehyung’s just as affected as he is. He felt it from the first moment he opened his eyes and saw the man’s worried face staring back at him, the invisible cord that pulls him towards the man, like opposite ends of the world’s strongest magnet. The knowledge has the tips of his fingers tingling, the need to touch so strong.   “Just couldn’t sleep.” Taehyung comes to sit on the couch as far as he can from Jungkook without falling off. He’d laugh at the man’s action, but it’s not funny.   Jungkook’s staring and he knows it, but he can’t stop. Taehyung’s stunning even in the dim lighting, with tired eyes and flushed skin, his red and white striped pajamas hanging loosely on his slender frame, and Jungkook fights the urge to tangle his hands in the soft looking material. The room is quiet except for their breathing, and the silence is deafening. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Taehyung beats him to it.  

“So, my