Jeongguk, as any normal student would, has a crush on the university's popular boy, who unfortunately is a fuck boy.
But for a matter of fact, he does not care.
The all-popular Kim Taehyung does not believe in love, thus, never bothered noticing hi...
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There were a lot of things Taehyung has been hating but one specific factor looped the string of events.
His favourite laughter had rung in his ear shell and he could not help the urge to stealthily take a peek. There sat the expected boy with his legs dangling off the concrete ledge, swinging them with a childish touch to it, probably having the time of his life.
All the loaded bubbly sensation in his chest burst once he saw a weird red head, he could not care less about, and his best friend chilling with him. Seeing the blonde revoked his memories as to why he had let that distance dwell between them.
The sole reason— Jeongguk's voice. His beautiful, soothing voice which dearly reminded him of her. That sonant had become his comfort, exactly the way she was.
Taehyung was shocked when he had heard him sing that day for the first time. Such powerful of an impact it had on him that almost gave him the taste of it — that touch, initiating the same warm, fuzzy feeling, he was so sure he could call home.
The mint-haired still has a faint, unintuitive impression of it. Nearly whithered.
The very obvious reason he continued to maintain that distance by himself. Taehyung was becoming selfish, but it had never felt so right. Not wanting to share even for a mere second and that felt fucking good.
Because, he knew sharing meant losing. Bidding his farewell just a little whenever he would share until he had none.
Taehyung had done it all at once. He pushed that cause arousing in him the remnants of warmth that he had so effectively locked away. Things are bound to get filthy when you invest yourself completely without any filter. And, the boy did not want to conjure that experience once again.
Taehyung glugged a glass of strawberry vodka down his throat. That burn was so satisfactory yet it was not enough. His eyes strained on the stage, as if reliving the past two days. What the fuck? Chasing after a certain someone was not his style. Never had been. When did he even act upon it?
The mint haired took a glimpse of his newly labelled best friend, Park Jimin, downing the biggest glass of beer at hand. His glare directed to the same scene unfolding, much like his own. How was it even possible he could read what his eyes screamed? Perhaps, it somewhat resembled his own?
They were angry but not at anyone, it was meant for himself. Baby pink hair draping over those fiery eyes did not lighten the emotions they were holding. All the while, Taehyung did understand. Jimin was probably cursing himself for not knowing what was happening in his friend's life, which led him to make a choice as he did.
Out of all the people in this world, Jeon Jeongguk was that unregistered stripper the clubbers have been fantasizing about.
The shy boy, accustomed to hide behind his bangs now swayed his hips ever so sensually, arrayed in velvet shorts and loose baggy shirt hanging off one of his shoulders. Jimin abruptly left his seat and went over to the bar counter, unable to manage the fury that he was imposing on himself.
