“So, you want us to play cupid?” Yoongi eyes the green-mostly-blonde haired man.

“Hyung, don’t you want to be a source of good in the world?” Namjoon smiles his dimpled smile, and Yoongi knows he should concede but he can’t go down without a real fight. It’s not in his nature.

“Pretty confident I met my good will towards mankind quota when I filmed you and freed you from emotional constipation... and got you an A,” Yoongi says with a well-earned smirk.

“Fine. Then help me fulfill my quota,” Namjoon counters, and Yoongi hates it when his own arguments are used against him.

He pouts a bit, his pride somewhat bruised, which is ridiculous since he knew he wasn’t gonna win. It’s his own fault really. He’d give Namjoon the moon if he asked for it.

“How can I help?” he asks, filing this whole situation under things he will regret later.

All regret that could have been dissolves like metal in acid when Namjoon smiles his sweet, dimpled smile, leans in, and kisses him on the cheek. For a briefest, tiniest of moments, Yoongi bemoans the fact that if whipped had a picture in the dictionary it would be of him.

“So I was thinking maybe, uhm, we could lure them to, like, a deserted place then lock them up together and, you know, wait.”

“What would we be waiting for exactly?” Yoongi stares at the tall man because surely this is a joke.

“You know, for them to, uhm, figure their out?” Did he just ask a question?

“What if they don’t? Do we leave them there until they do? Will we be providing them food?” Namjoon’s blank stare tells Yoongi that none of these ideas have been considered.

“Ooh, or maybe we can borrow the keys to the art museum from Hoseok’s dad and then tell Jungkook that he should check out the museum at night and invite Taehyung to come along. Then we leave them there?”

“Uhm, I’m pretty confident that both things you just suggested are illegal. One is called kidnapping and is a felony in every country on the planet earth. The other is called breaking and entering and is also frowned upon by the law.” Yoongi rubs his head and wonders how someone so smart can be so, so… (he can’t even think it, damn love taking away his ability to criticize).

Namjoon is staring and blinking, and Yoongi can almost see the wheels spinning in the man’s head. It was a bad idea to allow Namjoon to be the man with the plan. His plans will land Yoongi behind bars and gain him a boyfriend named Bubba who has a tattoo and used to be the leader of a biker gang. Yoongi hates bikes.

“No to everything you’re thinking right now,” Yoongi says, casting a stern look in Namjoon’s direction. “How about we do for them what Jungkook did for us?”

“Sure!” Namjoon says brightly. “Uhm, what’d he do exactly?”  Yoongi would facepalm, he would, but it’s Namjoon whom he loves with his whole heart, who happens to have a genius IQ and somehow still manages to be the least sharpened tool in the shed. The blonde is an enigma.

“Really?” Clearly Namjoon is joking. He’s not. “He suggested that you get me to film you.”

“You want us to suggest that he film Taehyung?” Namjoon asks, and Yoongi can’t help laughing.

“No, not exactly, but you’re on the right track. Jungkook suggested I help you with something that you needed. Why don’t we find out what Jungkook needs and suggest that Taehyung helps him?” Yoongi feels somewhat proud of his suggestion; it makes sense and won’t have them on the run from the law.

“Jungkook needs to get laid, you want us to ask Taehyung to help him with that?” Namjoon says seriously, and all Yoongi can think is, yeah, why not, it’s Taehyung .

“Uhm, yeah. I’m one hundred percent sure Taehyung would be down for that.”

“You’re probably right.” Namjoon concedes, and Yoongi feels a sense of personal victory. “Now, how do we initiate this plan?”

“It’s Taehyung, Namjoon. I think straight forward is the way to go. Something like, you like Jungkook, right? How about you do something about it?” Yoongi replies and chuckles at the mortified look on Namjoon’s face.

“Can we really just say that? I mean, I know Taehyung’s the free-spirit-say-what-you think type, but can it really be that simple?” Namjoon looks contemplative.

“It’s a proven fact that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.” It’s the only thing Yoongi remembers from high school geometry, and his teacher was right, you do use math for everything.

“True, true,” Namjoon replies, and the seriousness of the blonde’s response has Yoongi laughing out loud.

“Seriously Joon, why are you so freaking adorable? It really is a problem.” Yoongi moves closer to place a kiss on the man’s brows which are scrunched up questioningly. “Taehyung’s in my Music Theory class. I think it’s the one class he doesn’t share with Jungkook. Come to think of it, why are they in almost every class together?”

“That question right there is why we’re playing cupid,” Namjoon responds, not quenching Yoongi’s curiosity in the slightest.

“Okay,” he says slowly. Yoongi knows better than to ask again.

“Okay,” Namjoon echoes his reply, and Yoongi can’t help but smile at the blonde. It’s become a thing, their thing, Namjoon repeating his responses.

“I have music theory tomorrow afternoon. I’ll talk to Taehyung then.”

“M’okay. So,” Namjoon drags out the o sound, “what’d you wanna do now? The planning stage of Operation Get Jungkook Laid has gone a lot smoother and quicker than I had anticipated. Turns out my boyfriend is a matchmaking genius.”

“Correction, your boyfriend’s a genius at life, and for this he should be rewarded,” Yoongi proclaims.

“Really? What kind of reward are we talking? A trophy, for participation? Ice cream because you’re such a good boy? Ooh how about-”

“How about you shut up and let me stick my tongue down your throat?” Yoongi retorts, cutting Namjoon off and employing the geometric (straight line) theory.

As Namjoon straddles his legs and bends his head in just the right way, Yoongi decides math is very, very useful.

“That’s right, Mari. Krypton is an inert gas. Good job. They are colorless, odorless, tasteless gases, and scientists used to believe that they didn’t form any chemical compounds, hence the name inert. Later it was-”

“Compounds have been made though, like fluorides, from Krypton and even radon,” Jungkook cuts him off.

“I know Jungkook, that’s why I said used to believe,” Taehyung’s voice is clipped, as though holding back what he truly meant to say, and Jungkook’s wants to push the man until he breaks.

Jungkook wonders, not for the first time, at the near violent competitiveness he feels when in Taehyung’s presence. The need to one up the older boy covers him like a blanket, blocking out the light of logical thinking, but he’s always left with a sense of defeat that swirls around him and irks him because Taehyung doesn’t respond, doesn’t take the bait, and doesn’t fight back.

“Okay guys, that's all for today.” Taehyung’s dismissal of the session pulls Jungkook from his Taehyung-centric trance.

The teens file out of the study room, waving goodbyes with bright smiles and cheery voices. As the last student crosses the threshold, it dawns on Jungkook that his only contribution as a tutor had been to question Taehyung’s every word. It’s stupid, silly really, and he knows it. He really does, but the compulsion to beat Taehyung and push all his buttons is an invisible force. Even if Jungkook could fight it, he’s certain he’d opt not to.

Taehyung flips the snapback on his head, turning the bill to the back, and for reasons that Jungkook can’t explain (nor does he want to) his stomach drops like roller coaster plummeting to the ground, at the sight.

“So, uhm, you leaving?” It’s the first non-combative thing he’s said to the older boy, apart from ‘hello,’ since they walked into the room two hours ago.

“Mmm,” Taehyung responds without looking up as he tosses textbooks into his backpack.

“Ahh.” Jungkook scrolls through the polite conversation templates in his mind and comes up empty-handed.

“Alright, well, I’m heading out. See you in class,” Taehyung says, pulling the straps of the bag tight.

“Okay, see ya,” Jungkook replies. “So, uhm, what ya doing now?” The question jumps out without his permission, and his hand flies to his mouth in shock.

Taehyung stills his movement, and Jungkook assumes the man is as taken aback as he feels.

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung asks turning to face him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jungkook replies.

“What did I do?”

“Huh?”

“To make you dislike me, what did I do?” Jungkook’s mouth is hanging open, and he’s suddenly worried about catching those flies his mom’s always warning him about.

“Dislike you? I-I don’t dislike you at all?” The statement is stuttered in shock.

“Your actions would suggest otherwise.” Taehyung stares at him for a beat or two longer than needed before simply walking through the door.

All the air exits the room alongside Taehyung, and the lack of oxygen has Jungkook feeling dizzy and lightheaded. His mind is scrambling to figure what just happened. What had he done?

Hours later, sitting in his room, staring at his Econ II textbook, the words are a jumbled mess on the page and he’s having trouble comprehending, his brain still preoccupied with visions of his encounter with Taehyung earlier. Shutting the book with a hard clap, unable to concentrate, he throws himself on the bed, his back hitting the mattress with a thud. Try as he might Jungkook can’t wrap his head around the day's events. How did things escalate to this? Their relationship, his and Taehyung’s, has always had an element of push and pull. Admittedly there’s more push than pull on his part. Even so, he’s grown used to their battle of words. He finds it comforting and natural. It never dawned on him that Taehyung would perceive their interaction as anything other than witty repartee, but dislike?

“Damn it,” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he rises from the bed.

The kitchen floor is cold, and he pads over to the thermostat and flips the switch to heat the floors while be his lack of socks.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” Namjoon’s voice startles him.

“You scared the crap out of me, hyung,” Jungkook replies clutching his heart dramatically.

“I use to be a spy. It’s why I’m so stealthy,” Namjoon says with a chuckle.

“I swear you’ve been hanging out with Yoongi too much; your jokes are getting corny.”

“Yah, brat, respect your elder,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his shoes and enters the apartment. “You didn’t answer my question, why are you awake at three in the morning?”

“Mmm, I have an Econ test I was trying to to study for but failing miserably.” Jungkook runs a hand through his already messy hair.

“Why failing?”

“Hyung, do you ever think about how your actions are perceived by others?” Namjoon looks at him thoughtfully.

Jungkook wonders how much to tell the man, especially knowing that Namjoon already thinks he has feelings for Taehyung (which is ridiculous, right?).

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs.

“Taehyung thinks I dislike him. He said my actions make him feel that way. I thought it was just like a fun competitive thing we did, you know? It’s never been malicious on my part, but it seems he perceives it differently.” Jungkook joins Namjoon in the living area before dropping on the old brown couch in the center of the room, their one piece of furniture.

“Do you?” Namjoon’s query is simple enough. It only requires a yes or no, but to Jungkook the question is equivalent to finding the solution to world hunger. It’s loaded, and there is no one right answer.

“Dislike him? No, of course not.” Okay, maybe it was easy to answer.

“Then why does Taehyung think otherwise?” Another easy question yet Jungkook is positive he does not have the answer.

“I don’t know.” The truth is, all matters surrounding Taehyung are a mystery to Jungkook. He simultaneously wants to drag the older boy close and push him as far away as he can. “I just don’t know.”

“Maybe you should talk to him.” Namjoon’s words make sense, they do, in theory.

“And say what? I don’t dislike you, I’m not sure how I feel about you, to be honest? Because I don’t. I feel this need to win when I’m around him, a knee-jerk compulsion to dominate him?”

He runs his hand over his face in frustration. It’s another side effect of Kim Taehyung: brain ing, mind melting confusion.

“Agghhh, , I feel like a crazy person. I mean why is this bothering me? Why should I care if Taehyung thinks I don’t like him?”

“Maybe- and I know you don’t want to hear this, but…could the answer be that you like him? Perhaps, this aggressive behavior is your version of a third-grade boy pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes.”

It’s hard to hear anything over the beating of his heart which seems to have grown exponentially louder, drowning out everything else. Namjoon’s words hit a nerve, cutting through Jungkook’s core like a newly sharpened knife.

“I don’t know, hyung. I just don’t know,” he says as he gets up from the couch, the conversation becoming more than he can handle. “Gonna try and get some sleep. See you later, hyung.”

The trip to his room is with a heavy heart and a head filled with jumbled thoughts. He feels like a hypocrite calling Namjoon out on his relationship constipation when he’s the king of avoiding his feelings. Of course he likes Taehyung. He’s liked him since the first day of his freshman year when Taehyung walked through the door of his Calculus I class. The man was like the sun, stunning with his olive skin, soft eyes, and a boxy smile, and Jungkook fell hard at first sight. Of course he likes Taehyung, but he’s destroyed any chance he might have had.

Music theory is Yoongi’s favorite class, and the only class he shares with Taehyung. The younger man sits two seats in front of him to the right. For the entirety of the class he’s been trying to figure out how to approach Taehyung, and he’s a little irritated that he hasn’t been able to pay attention in class because of his new role as cupid. Namjoon owes him big for this.

“Alright, I think that’s about it for today,” the professor says, dismissing the class.

It’s the fastest Yoongi has moved in a while, trying to get to the front of the class before Taehyung exits the room.

“Taehyung, hold up,” he calls to the boy.

“Hey, hyung,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Wasn’t that a great class? I’m so excited about this project. I’m thinking of a jazz/pop fusion. What are you planning?”

“I’m toying with the idea of a classical music/hip-hop mix.” Yoongi has to remind himself that he’s not here to talk music.

“Ohh, that does sound good.”

“Anyway, are you busy right now? I wanted to talk to you for a bit, if you have time that is.”

“Sure, hyung. Wanna get coffee? I have an Econ test in an hour, and I need something to keep me awake,” Taehyung says as he slips his backpack on his shoulder.

“Yeah, coffee sounds good. There a great shop not far from campus. That crap in the cafeteria should be ashamed to call itself coffee,” Yoongi says with conviction.

“Okay, lead the way captain.”

The coffee shop isn’t crowded as they make their way to the counter to place their order.

“So, what’d you wanna talk about?” Taehyung asks as they slide into a booth by the window.

“I wanted to talk to you about Jungkook.” Yoongi considers slowly segueing into the topic, but their time is limited, so he decides on a ripping the band-aid off type approach.

“Jungkook? As in Jeon Jungkook?” Confusion is written all over Taehyung’s face. “Why?”

“Well, before I answer that. What do you think about him?” Yoongi decides to gauge Taehyung’s feelings first.

“I like him,” Taehyung ans