wrong number | ksj+kth ✓

18

Jin wakes up to cold fingers poking his cheek.

"Is he alive?"

"I don't know."

"Guys, what the fuck – "

"He's burning up."

"I'll get the Advil."

The voices are too loud, too cluttered, and Jin can feel a hellish headache brewing. A groan falls past his lips before he can stop it, and he turns away from the noise.

"Jin?" That's Tae's voice. "Are you sick?"

Jin tries to shake his head no, but he knows that'll only make the pounding in his head intensity. "No. I – I don't think so."

Fingers are run through his hair. "Can you open your eyes?"

"Do I have to?"

"Can you?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

Jin gives another loud, exaggerated groan but complies, blinking his eyes open and immediately wincing at the light. Tae is standing right in front of him, observing his bloodshot eyes, and looks somewhat satisfied when he pulls back.

"Yeah, you're probably just hungover," he declares.

"And you're not?" Jin complains.

"We've all taken Advil," Jimin explains. "That, and we didn't drink nearly as much as you did last night."

"Really?"

"You drank a good three bottles of soju more than everyone else."

"I don't – I don't drink," Jin protests. "Not much."

Jimin raises his eyebrows.

"Okay, fine, I do. I mean, I can. But not often."

"Maybe you should drink more often," Tae suggests. "You have to test your limits if you want to know what they are, and you obviously don't."

"Not helping, Tae," Jimin mutters.

Jin frowns, rubbing at his temples in an attempt to make the pain subside and abruptly stopping when it does the opposite. "What time is it?"

"Just after noon."

"You guys let me sleep in?" Jin's voice has risen at least an octave and he sits up abruptly before sinking back down at the wave of vertigo that hits him. "What day is it? God, am I – I'm late for work, oh no – "

"It's Saturday," Jungkook says nonchalantly as he saunters into the room with the bottle of Advil. "Calm down."

Jungkook pops open the bottle, and although Jin is perfectly aware that the pills aren't that sugarcoated, he can just about smell the diabetes.

"I'm going to be sick," he mutters, getting up with scrambling, unsteady limbs. He staggers to the nearest bathroom and kneels in front of the toilet, emptying his insides so violently he can feel his intestines curling.

Tae's immediately there, pulling his bangs out of his face – he really needs a haircut, he thinks dimly – and rubbing his back as he continues to retch.

He's sweating and shivering by the time he flushes the toilet. He's too cold and too hot at the same time and it's dizzying; he just wants to get back in bed and sleep, but he doubts sleep will come easily through the pounding headache he currently has. Jungkook hands him two pills and a glass of water and he downs them without argument, wondering if he's actually gotten himself sick somehow.

Jimin's wondering the same thing, apparently, because he asks Jungkook, "Is he okay?"

"He's always like this when he drinks too much," Jungkook says reassuringly. "Don't worry."

Jin can't even remember the last time he'd really gotten drunk – he'd been with Namjoon, surely – and for some reason, it unnerves him that Jungkook does. He leans back against Tae and tries not to think as the younger boy wraps his arms around him.

"Let's get you to your bed, yeah?" Tae says softly, and Jin nods in response.

Tae helps him – drags him, more like – out of the bathroom and to the massive (shared) bed in his and Jungkook's (also shared) bedroom. Jin is still trembling as Tae pulls the covers up to his chin.

"I'm never letting you drink again," Tae says sternly, but his expression is fond. He sits down beside Jin and strokes his hair, his touch light and inexplicably sweet. "I can't believe Jungkook still lets you."

"Hey!" Jungkook scowls from the doorway. Tae waves him off.

"It's not that bad," Jin murmurs, but he leans into the comforting touch nonetheless.

Then Tae presses a light, comforting kiss to his lips, and the memories of the previous night come flooding back.

"Tae – Tae, wait," he gasps, pulling back slightly. Tae bites his lip.

"I'm sorry, I just thought – "

"No, don't apologize," Jin insists. "Let me get something straight for a second."

"Okay?"

"Last night – that wasn't a dream?" he asks. "Or a hallucination? I'm not going insane?"

Tae's lips curl into an amused smirk. "Are you referring to when we kissed?"

Jin flushes.

"Okay, so you are." Tae grins and tangles his fingers back into Jin's hair. "No, it wasn't a dream. But if you want to pretend it never happened – " nervousness slips, stealthy, into his expression " – we can call it a hallucination."

Jin tries to conceal his skyrocketing nerves with a subtle, "Do you want to do that?"

Tae looks away, and for a minute Jin's worried, because he really doesn't want to –

"Not particularly."

Jin looks back at him in surprise. "Wait – what?"

"No," Tae says, louder this time. "No, I don't want to. But, uh, it's alright if you do."

Jin's glad his headache has quelled enough for him to properly assess the situation and determine what to say.

When you're in love, you're always happy. You think of your boyfriend all the time and whenever you're with them you kinda forget about everything else.

Do I make you happy? Tae had asked. When you're with me, do you forget about everything else?

Yes, Jin thinks.

And when they're sad, you can tell, and you really want to make it better, and when you're sad, they can tell, and they usually do end up making it better.

And you just want them, and you don't know how anyone could cheat on their boyfriend because you don't want anyone except yours.

And somewhere beneath the blurred haze of inebriation and lust and everything else, Jin remembers Tae asking, Do you want to kiss me?

Jin has no doubt what he wants.

"I don't want to pretend it didn't happen," he admits, cupping Tae's face. "I don't want that at all."

Tae must understand by now, but he plays along.

"What do you want, then?" he asks, equally breathless, looking at Jin so intensely that he older boy thinks he might burst.

Jin thinks of full lips on his, kissing him with a fervor he's never even imagined, and nimble fingers carding through his hair, and he's never been more sure of anything in his life.

"I want you," he breathes, pulling the lovely, lovely masterpiece of a person toward him and pressing their lips together.