“Well, what do we have here?”
Voice thick with irritation, spitefulness leaking from plush lips that supported the thin cigarette hung loosely from his teeth, a threatening gaze sized you up and left you feeling defenseless and weak under the scrutiny of coffee eyes, depths uncertain and unknown.
You weren’t exactly sure how you managed to find yourself in this predicament, hands held at the small of your back, wrists overlapping each other as a much stronger hold pinned you in place. You could feel the drumming of Hoseok’s heartbeat against your shoulder, grip tightening around your skin as you poorly attempted to gain back any control you once had, which hadn’t been very much to begin with.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nose stuck up in the air, pseudo pride coating your face in a mask, you defiantly locked eyes with your very pissed off boyfriend who leaned, arms crossed, against the wooden door frame of the room, while your other lover held you in place against his chest, rage equally matching the silver haired mans yet with a more silent approach.
Why you ever thought having two dominant males as your significant others would be a good idea, was beyond you, truly.
“Don’t sass me sweetheart, I want you to cut the bullshit and be honest for once.”
He made it hard to fight back, keep your dignity intact and maintain control over yourself when all you really yearned to do was run and hide from him, both of them, the intensity of the situation finally hitting your gut like an oncoming train.
“Answer him.” This time it was Hoseok, his voice barely rung throughout the small bedroom shared by three lovers; a bed made for two yet held three beating hearts each night for the past twelve months, tangled limbs intertwining with one another in a peaceful slumber as the moon lit a path of pleasant dreams. The center of your chest felt heavy with longing, yet a sense of knowing dread.
“I don’t have anything to say. To be honest, I don’t know why you’re both freaking out in the first place, barging into the room like a couple of mad men.”
Yoongi was silent for exactly six heartbeats, fixated glare heating your face that was steel hard, defenses up and ready to fight if need be. He watched as your jaw locked, pink flush coating your cheeks in a hue that only came about whenever you were irritated, scared.
You thought you had it all figured out, thought you could be brave and pretend to be careless and cold-hearted to them. But Yoongi was the master of acts, had practically been doing nothing but since birth, so it was so easy for him to read you like an open book, as if the letters were scattered across your face in plain sight, begging for him to understand.
He had no problem breaking you down, shattering each wall until you were completely vulnerable and bare before them, spilling the worries that tingled on your tongue into his mouth, so him and Hoseok could piece you back together, putting each broken shard carefully back in it’s rightful place until you were whole again, until you were theirs once more.
Because that’s what this whole thing was, it was an evenly divided relationship built on the grounds of late night kisses, secrets whispered into waiting arms, hands ready to catch one another if ever the risk of falling occurred.
And you were plummeting too fast, the ground too close in sight for their liking.
Yoongi shared a glance with the usual bubbly energy that graced the atmosphere of the small apartment, Hoseok’s stone face hiding the tribulations he faced, had been for the past couple weeks, when it had been only him and Yoongi to keep each other warm at night when you would sneak out of the confines of their arms to the scratchy sofa in front of the dinged up television, a whole other room away.
