Gold: Kim Taehyung ✓

Apophyllite

The weekend couldn't have come soon enough. I was tired- no, more than that, I was at my wit's end. Naturally, because Hoseok and I had become fast friends, rumours floated around us like bees to honey. He seemed oblivious, just smiling and laughing and filling my ears with nonsense while our colleagues watched with hungry curiosity. In a job as boring as this, gossip was how we stayed sane.

It didn't mean I appreciated the questions, though. It didn't seem to matter how much I denied any relationship with the man, the other women were annoyingly pushy. Annoyingly, because, a lot of them, in their interest, kept trying to invite themselves over to my place, to "chat". I was getting tired of having to come up with excuses.

I couldn't very well have people over to my place with Taehyung there. Not only would he be very uncomfortable, since he was bad with strangers, but he was noticeably younger than me. The last thing I needed was implications of me having a boy toy floating around the office.

It was also making me question our relationship a lot more than I was comfortable with. I would say it was sibling-like, ordinarily, or maybe even like parent and child, seeing as I more or less took care of him. But children, nor siblings, would look at me like that.

He'd settled down a lot since I gave him the warning, but I still sometimes caught him with that expression on his face, dark and wanting. He'd snap out of it when he realised I was looking, but it was undeniable.

Hence, the questioning. We had no blood relation, but we weren't dating, so what were we? I'd call him a pet, but that had some weird sexual connotations that made me want to take a long walk off a short pier. This made Yoongi laugh a lot when I told him. He'd been my confidante a lot more than usual lately. He was the only one that knew my situation.

"Aren't you more or less his Sugar mama?" The dark haired man said, crossing his arms as he grinned slyly at me. I choked on my whiskey.

"T-... the fuck?!" Coughing a bit, I spluttered, "Why would you say that?!"

"Well, you buy him things, you feed him, put a roof over his head. The only thing you get in return is sex." I stared at him with wide eyes as he lifted a hand, "Ah. Sorry, could get. I forgot you're too prude to just fuck him."

"He's like a baby! That would be so inappropriate!" I exclaimed, slamming the glass down with a little too much force. He sighed at the whiskey that had jumped out of my glass on impact, grabbing a cloth to wipe it up. I pressed my lips together. "Sorry."

"He's 23. Definitely legal age, Seomin."

"Yeah, but it's not-" I gave a wordless groan of frustration. How could I explain it? With the warmth of alcohol in my system, I rested my chin on the tabletop. "There are so many things he doesn't know, Yoongles." He rose his eyebrows at the pet name, "So many. Things he really should know, at his age. He's so innocent." I drew circles on the polished wood. "It feels like I'd be taking advantage."

He sighed. "Okay, first of all, stop calling me Yoongles." I shook my head, but he just continued, "Second, he really doesn't sound that innocent. If he has been giving you bedroom eyes constantly like you say."

I scrubbed my hands through my hair, forehead pressed into the counter. "Arrgh, I don't know. It's so contradictory! I don't know what to do about him." Head still on the table, I rose my hands, "One second he's all 'cuddle me noona! Hey, how do fish breathe underwater?' And then the next it's these dark sultry stares and deep growly voice." I slammed my fist down and straightened up to look the bartender in the eye. "Seriously, how is his voice so deep? So deep! Like permanent bass!"

He laughed a bit, and patted my head. "Man, looks like he's not the only one who's attached, huh?"

I pouted, resting my cheek on my hand. "Don't say that. Soon as he's set up with work and a place to stay, he'll be out."