VMINKOOK / THE ART OF BEEKEEPING

45

— PART FORTY-FIVE.

Taehyung has never had a hickey before, but, now, he seemingly has a multitude of them, like a culture of bacteria, spawning around his neck. Jaded and purple, like the clefts of a galaxy — milk and star-shine. He's not sure what to do with them, how he feels about them. They're flowers, he thinks, blooming around his neck, slipping toward his collarbones, symbolic of his passion. They're also like hands, like a noose, like a plastic bag, all attempting to suffocate him, symbolic of his idiocy.

It's Monday morning and they're still dark, almost black, like they were rotting.

He doesn't really have any makeup to cover them with, so he opts for a scarf, and he tries to do his shirt buttons up as much as possible, wondering if his dad would be suspicious, if he would even care if he knew. He'd probably be worried if Taehyung told him he'd let two boys make out with him at once — if he told him that he kissed them back, hard.

His dad doesn't question the scarf (it was getting cold after all), as he makes himself some coffee in the kitchen, exhausted, barely taking in his son's appearance. Taehyung doesn't stick around long enough for him to do so either.

It's air is cold. There's no wind, and the world is quiet, as if trapped in a scene of ice, like a winter wonderland, with desolate silhouettes roaming around the mist. Taehyung's feet are instantly frozen beneath the thin fabric of his yellow converse, and he somewhat wishes he'd invested in any other type.

He has to walk to school, and, despite his thick duffel coat, rimmed with fur, he's still almost shivering, yet he's so indisputably calm, the calmest he'd been for a long while. He barely even considers what he was going to do upon seeing Jimin or Jeongguk; barely wonders what might happen, what they're going to be like. He forces himself not to think about what all of this means for him or what his options are, he just wraps himself up in the warmth of the memory of their lips on his, on his cheeks, on his neck. On him.

It's ridiculous, he knows, there's still some great part of him that believes this is completely temporary, that they're just making another move on the chess board, playing him still. Yet, he finds he doesn't care, not much, not at all.

Whether they are or not, he has the power: he's entangled amongst them now, further than anyone else has ever gotten, and, whether there's any semblance of truth within the relationship or not, he's got the option to expose them — he will have, if he uncovers more. He just needs to hang on a little longer.

No matter what, he's got nothing to lose. Not even his dignity.

Still, he doesn't exactly expect Jimin to be waiting for him when he arrives at school, some part of him thinking they would avoid him more now, leave him hanging. But, no, there Park Jimin is, smiling, shivering, amongst a grave courtyard with students ambling around him, as if ignorant of him.

Then, he's smirking, and, unlike Taehyung's father, Jimin certainly does notice the scarf, "I like the look, sugar." He informs him, his tone not malicious in the slightest, and it's soft in a way that makes it almost seem innocent. It's like a pillow, capable of providing warmth, a home for your body to sink into, to instil comfort, and yet, it's a place to make you sweat and moan and hunt for pleasure, to pant into another body, pillow talks.

The blonde almost rolls his eyes, but he finds himself grinning instead, and he's ridiculously giddy, like a child on Christmas, and all his previous ideas about possibly using them leaks out of him, as he steps directly into Jimin's space, "it's cold." He says like a suggestion, teasing.

Jimin cocks his eyebrow and his smile is delicate, though undeniably venereal, indicative of something indecent, "are you ashamed of them?"

Taehyung isn't quite sure how to answer that at first, but, he's completely aware of the fact he's not looking for an answer that shall impress Jimin, no, he's just trying to make sense of the question, of the intention behind it, "a little."