Chapter Text
The first time Taehyung sees Jungkook, the boy is running. Over time, Taehyung will come to realise he's always running.
The sun had just embarked upon its journey into the ground, and a marmalade sky warmed the land in it's wake; sunbeam cascaded through the window of the old, orange Beetle, as the car trundled down the winding streets of the countryside.
Light seemed to submerge Jeon Jungkook as Taehyung first set eyes on him, and it danced all across his skin, in a mouth-watering chassé. The moment is fleeting, and the boy doesn't look back, but, the grubby beauty of him is enough to leave his image in Taehyung's mind throughout the rest of the day. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, his face folded into a frown.
He was running passed the car Taehyung was in, and he was almost like the wind, almost managed to surpass the speed of the car itself. He ran with purpose, along the cobbled street, and it was ever so intriguing for the glum brunette. Bored in having been stuffed in a car for three hours, he couldn't help but fixate on the only interesting thing he sees on his journey: a boy whose sweat makes it look like he's bathed in pixie dust.
As soon as the running boy is ripped away from view, Taehyung turns dull again, until the car finally slices to a stop outside a large, brown building. Contaminated with lively green ivy, the bricks look a little like they're decaying; all the windows aligned along the front pulled open, white linen curtains billowing in the soft breeze, as the sun bats down upon the large house. Taehyung's heart churns with the crackling of car wheels against the gravel drive.
His heart seems to stop all together as the car parks.
"Well," His father's voice is a deep breath of hope, as he peers at Taehyung through the rear-view mirror, "this is nice, huh?"
Absently, Taehyung shrugs, and his voice is a lot quieter than usual as he says, "yeah, it's pretty." It's horrible.
His dad sighs deeply and shuffles around in his seat, fully turning in order to look his son in the eye; he smiles kindly as he tells him, "it's just for a few months, Tae. It'll be good for you to— well, you know." His hands, weighed down by the silver band of his wedding ring, gesticulate around, hoping his son will get his point. After a beat, he adds, "You'll love Namjoon, as well."
Sensing his dad's imminent desire to derive some sense of joy from Taehyung at the current situation, the boy gives in and smiles, forcing it, but melting into it nonetheless. "I'm sure."
As soon as he opens the car door, he meets the Namjoon in question — his uncle is handsome, and he's young, younger than Taehyung had imagined. He's the brother of the boy's mother, and he was somewhat estranged; he never attended a family function, and was always just referred to as your uncle — or, his eccentric uncle, sometimes. On account of the large age gap between Namjoon and Taehyung's mother, their relationship was a little strained, and, it seemed the younger liked to keep himself to himself, locked away in this brick mansion in the countryside.
Taehyung doesn't think he can blame him.
He's very tall, is what Taehyung first perceives — of course, following the time he takes to devote attention to the kind eyes the man shares with his mother, and the dimples pressed finely into his golden cheeks. "Welcome!" He calls out, his voice booming enough to cause a flutter of birds. He's in baggy white trousers, and a flowing yellow cardigan, his hand clutching a glass of orange juice.
Pulling himself from the vibrant, red door of the house, Namjoon reaches their car at the same time Taehyung and his father manage to exit it.
"Greetings," The elder replies, his biggest, waxiest smile slathered across his face. He's rapid in the way he ushers Taehyung toward the man who'd kindly offered his house to Taehyung as a recluse. His voice is a little stilted, distorted by uneven breaths, as he goes to the boot, prying the boy's baggage from it. "You're looking well, Namjoon."
"Ah, well, I live an organic life." He beams back, and his entire silhouette seems as if dipped in some organic matter; every aspect of him is natural, like mother nature combs his hair every morning, and kisses him on the forehead as she tucks him into bed. "You're in grand shape yourself, I must say." His words are indulgent, rippling from him like he's got the world at his fingertips, "God, how big you've gotten, Taehyung!" He cries out, as soon as he's close enough to grab the boy by his shoulders, shaking him lightly.
Taehyung's smile is genuine as he immerses himself in the overly-familiar vibrations of his stranger of an uncle. The only memory Taehyung has of the man is in photographs; he remembers one wherein he himself was a baby, and Namjoon, probably only twelve at the time, was smiling at him. He remembers the man's dimples from that picture of him as a boy.
"Yeah, it's been a while." The brunette says in return, not bothering to hide his cheerful laugh at the man's undeterminable exuberance.
Namjoon's smile stiffens a little, and, for a split second, Taehyung feels like an idiot for mentioning it. Evidently, the gulf between the man before him and his mother was enough to keep them apart for so long, and, he supposes, it was hardly polite to mention it right off the bat.
His fear dissipates as soon as the man smiles again, and he pats the boy's shoulders, brushing his free hand over one of them. "Certainly has." He agrees, a curious depiction of glamour flickering in his gaze, as his dainty head tilts to the side, contemplating. He seems to survey his nephew for a while, as if, should he look hard enough, something of great import shall arise from his wary expression. Exhaling deeply, he says, with all the coolness of the breeze tethered to his tongue, "well, let's not stand around all day. Come in, come in."
Taehyung's father follows the fast-moving man, who lures them toward his house, his flip-flops clacking with each step he takes.
The innards of the place are much alike the man's protruding personality — polychrome, like sunshine. It's colourful, with teal blue wallpaper, peppered with images of birds and leaves; his furniture looks old, though splattered with a new sheen of paint, bright red and lurid. It was a strangely quintessential clash of colours.
"You can leave the bags there, for now." He informs Taehyung's dad, gesturing toward the stairs, waiting for the man to do so. "Well, this is the palace, it's been done up recently — well, relatively recently. Uh, you'll have to excuse the mess, we don't often have visitors."
Both Taehyung and his dad find their eyes narrowing, amused, because the place was absolutely spotless; every single piece of furniture seemed as if bolted to the floor in a specific position.
"It's beautiful, Namjoon, you have an eye for interior design." The elder of them responds, and he's not lying, his eyes struggling to encompass the beauty of the place.
Namjoon looks as if in the verge of disagreeing, his lips prying open, hovering, before slamming back shut, twisting into a grin. With a shrug of his shoulder, he gestures for them to follow, as he makes toward a door and leads them through to a room with large windows, granting a gorgeous view of a blooming wonderland. With all it's trembling vegetation, climbing up fences and wrapping around archways, a dew-dripped meadow splays out across the world, peppered with giggling poppies and harmonising daisies. An oasis of green-tinged waters slip into the skyline, stretching just beyond Taehyung's vision, sparkling beneath the harsh sun. His garden is a field.
His slender finger points out the window, gesturing toward a large barn, brown and bricked, with a thatched roof. "That's where you're gonna stay. If it's to your liking?" He peers down at the brunette, asks the question as if he weren't already being the most hospitable of hosts. "We just had it fixed up. It's got it's own bathroom and everything."
"Oh, it's gorgeous." His dad declares, and his mouth perks up in a grin, brows pointed evocatively at Taehyung; there's a sheen of sweat upon his top tip, and it glimmers like grease in the light.
Taehyung can't help but feel eternally grateful to the man, to his uncle, who's smiling so benignly down at him. He almost forgets to question the collective term we.
He doesn't get to, as, at that moment, it's answered for him, as another person enters through a door that leads to the resplendent garden. "Ah." The person — the man's — eyes widen for a moment, as he takes in the appearance of their two guests. "Hello," He startles, rubbing his hands against his dungarees before outstretching it for the older to take, and then for Taehyung, as he says, "you must be Taehyung! And Sehun, right?"
Sehun nods in return, his hand shake violently cheery. "Yes, and you're Seokjin, I presume?"
Sehun locks eyes with his son momentarily, and it's enough for Taehyung's suspicions to be confirmed: Seokjin is most definitely the reason why their family deem his uncle as 'eccentric'.
"That's me." He chuckles. The man was arduously pretty, in a way which just numbed Taehyung's senses. It was positively excruciating to try and focus on the sparkling sheen of the man, when such percolates of appeal were practically hanging from his synthetic smile. He looked gorgeous stood beside Namjoon, the pair glowing in the feat of the sun.
"I'm sorry we haven't met before—" Sehun starts.
"No, no," The newcomer brushes the man off, waving a slightly dirty hand, "it's no mind, I understand the, uh, way things are." There's a pregnant pause, that only lasts a second but has Taehyung gripping at the sleeves of his sweater in disfavour. Seokjin's smile returns in a second, and he looks the boy up and down, and he says, "wow, Joon surely has no manners," He grants the man in question a pointed look, before he asks, "do you two want a drink or anything?"
The brunette grips harder at his sleeves and peers up at his dad, who gives him a nod and a look which the boy doesn't bother to decipher. "I'm okay." He says, "thanks."
Namjoon replies softly, "you want to go settle in for a bit? We can get to know each other a bit better later. You're tired, I'm sure."
Taehyung nods, and tries his best to smile, "I'd like that, if that's okay."
"Of course," Seokjin nods quickly, and goes to grab his bags by the stairs. He gestures for the boy to follow him out the room, into the garden, where the sun hits his face uncomfortably. "Get ready for the best summer of your life."
&&&
They hadn't been lying when they'd said they'd done up the barn. Taehyung finds it immensely comfortable. His father had marvelled at the place, a constant slew of compliments falling from his lips, which the two men laughed at bashfully.
They'd left them for a while, allowed for Taehyung to get settled in. He'd refrained from unpacking his things, though his dad had chosen to hang up some of his t-shirt's in the large, wooden wardrobe in the bedroom; it seemed as though he didn't want to leave quite yet, like he was worried about leaving the boy, when this was his idea in the first place. The brunette had simply sunk into the purple, cotton sheets, with the sun leaking through the window, and the room cool with the clicking of a fan upon the desk.
Sehun had brushed his fingertips along the lemon yellow vanity, his usual smile twitching toward something a little serious. "You're gonna be okay, Tae." He'd told him, "it's gonna be good, Uncle Namjoon will take care of you, make sure to you have fun, help you... escape for a while."
Taehyung didn't need it spelling out for him. He knew why he was here. He'd smiled at his father all the same, had promised the man he'd do his best. Before he'd left, Sehun had hugged him — bracing and loose, but a hug nonetheless. Taehyung didn't remember the last time his father had hugged him.
Now, he sits in the garden with his uncle, and his uncle's partner. Groaning cicadas accompany their moonlit meal, and the lake at the edge of the garden looks even more fantastical in the evening. Pastel purple skies reflect in it, and it's like a sanctity for nymphs and mermaids and other such mythical creatures that rest in the precipice of Taehyung's conscious. It's a lilac-soaked reverie.
Seokjin had made pasta — Taehyung's favourite, with extra cheese. "You can help in the orangery, if you like? Sehun told us you like fruits, and, well, we have a multitude of them here." He says, talking around his glass of wine. They'd offered some to Taehyung, but the brunette had politely declined.
"You can swim in the lake as well, and I got a bunch of art supplies in the garage." Namjoon continues to list, his comforting features glowing orange in the glow of the candlelight. "Whatever you want. We can go into town as well, it's not quite like your city, but it's got some cool stuff."
Seokjin snorts, scoffs, "I doubt it's anything a teenager like Taehyung would find cool."
"Oh, please, he's an adult now." The younger of the pair retorts, before turning back to his nephew, "you are eighteen, are you not?"
Taehyung replies, a little awkwardly, "sure am." Despite hardly knowing the man, the brunette takes an instant liking to Namjoon. He had this manner about him, that just came alive with the whispers of trees, like he was so carefree, so wise; it's as if great chasms have been torn apart from the earth's surface, in order to accommodate for a mind so remarkable.
Kim Namjoon is also a man of the ability to create subsequent conversation with even the most challenging of people. Kim Seokjin is the same, it would seem, what with his angelic smile, and all that creationism in his pearlescent teeth and those clouds in his dulcet eyes. There's something delightfully erring about them that makes the brunette feel more at peace than he had been in a while.
"See? I'm sure a sophisticated man, such as my nephew, will be happy to explore the wonders our town has to offer."
Seokjin's eyes roll, and he gifts Taehyung a cheeky grin, like he's sharing a joke with him, as he says, "don't be fooled, by wonders he means a couple shops and a gas station."
"Uh, and a bistro."
The youngest amongst them chuckles heartily at the light banter, that trickles so serenely amongst the atmosphere, their tones melting in with the shine of the stars. Perhaps his father was right, perhaps being away from home for a while will do him some good.
Namjoon turns to him, his grin toothy. " You'll love it here, Taehyung, it's so peaceful."
At that precise moment, as if to spite Namjoon's promise, some beautiful cosmic coincidence makes it that a thundering onslaught of pounding footsteps echo across the croaking darkness. It's accompanied by a screeching sort of laughter, high in pitch, and elastic in consistency, bouncing around the stone walls.
The pounding footsteps slam past where they're eating — dark shadows of boys drifting past the gates of Namjoon and Seokjin's field. They're dark as soot against the violet skyline, and their voices glimmer warm in their hush. They laugh so tremendously, little giggles of fantasy, as they disappear into the long grass.
Taehyung thinks he recognises the one at the back, despite the fact he can only see his silhouette. There's just something so beautiful about the form he takes while running. He supposes it must be the boy he saw earlier, as he doubts there are all that many other young boy's around here. The runner still doesn't look back, though.
"Oh, those'll be the kids from down the road." Seokjin tells him, almost sounding a little irritated, "they're always running about the fields."
"They just pass through, nothing to worry about." Namjoon comforts the brunette, who couldn't help but be wary of the idea. He wonders how the man can read him so well already.
"It's okay." He responds, hesitant but honest; in truth, he doesn't mind the idea of seeing the running boy again, though he hasn't the faintest clue why. Taking a bite of his pasta, letting it melt against his tongue, he hears the world fall into silence once again, and he sighs in fulfilment. Both men seem happy when Taehyung grins at them, and he says, "I'd love to go into town."
&&&
Namjoon and Taehyung get along very well; the younger can't help but cherish every moment spent with him. From the simple way he'd prepared croissants for breakfast, spreading them amongst a feast of fruit and jam upon their wooden table, to the songs he and Jin had sung as they performed the mundane task of hanging up their washing across the line, the man was immensely good at captivating the brunette. He'd watched, as Seokjin picked peaches from one of their trees, had sat on the fence, observing the long line of drying cloth; subdued pinks and pale tourmaline, as they whisper in the still air, billowing so colourfully against the intrepid blue sky.
Even their laundry was captivating.
After a morning of ambling amongst hummingbird reveries and a bumblebee delights, Namjoon had brought him into town — which really was just a few shops, a gas station and bistro. It was strange how much the emptiness of it made the boy feel so full.
"There's a farmer's market on Sundays." He tells the boy, as his eyes scan over a crate of fish. Their smell is acrid, so distinctly infused with the ocean, and their corpses look so unappetising in the sun. "We sell our fruit there," He continues, his eyes flickering into a depiction of joy, "you can come help next week if you want?"
"I'd love to." Taehyung beams back at him. He can't help but hate the fact his dad had been right: time away from home really was making him feel better, in fact, he already feels his heart loosening up, like the grip a ghostly hand had on it was starting to fade. He finds himself becoming a little more talkative, reverting back to his more likeable self as he asks, "is that how you make all your money?"
Namjoon's brow raises, his expression playful.
Taehyung's tone is a mirror to that very expression, refracting into a timbre of serenity, as he purrs, "come on, I know my grandparents were rich, but, they're not exactly very generous with their money, are they? I mean, the only reason they helped my mother, is 'cause she wouldn't be able to get a law degree without sufficient funding. I doubt they'd ever give her money to move away to the countryside." Namjoon bites out a smile at this, nodding his head softly, despite the awkward topic. Taehyung forces himself to continue, "How'd you end up living in such a huge house just selling fruit?"
The older scoffs in jest, and his legs begin moving again, toward another shop — one of the seven that the town had — and the brunette follows him around like a lost puppy, looking up at the man so wondrously. "Seokjin," He begins, after a short breath of contemplation, that leaks in a gold-tinted plume of life, "he may seem really relaxed now, but he's very hard-working, very business orientated. He and I worked on a lot of expensive software after we got out of uni; it only took a few jobs here and there to get a good sum of money, and, thus, we were able to retire early, move to the countryside."
"You're retired?" Taehyung's brows furrow, shocked.
His uncle chuckles, and his pretty dimples appear, his mouth upturning as he replies, "technically, yes."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty." Namjoon laughs even more at the boy's reaction. "Seokjin's thirty two."
"You're in your thirties and you're retired?"
"No need to be so exasperated," He chuckles, as his fingers brush across the clothes on a rack outside a shop, all brown earth tones, nothing compared to the silks and satins on their own washing line. A trail of dust swirls in the space his fingers leave behind them. "It's what happens when you work hard."
"Hm."
They walk in silence for a minute, and the older man is strangely childish in the way his eyes widen at the various hats hanging on display from that same store, drifting across the stone-street toward them, as if on impulse. They're ugly hats, Taehyung thinks, but he supposes his uncle would be able to pull them off.
"So," He says into the silence, his mind still thrumming with the realisation that his uncle was amazing. His feet seem to stomp across the cobbles, whereas his uncle's had glided. Still, he's relatively graceful as he cocks his head and asks, almost suggestively, "you really like it out here, in the trenches?"
A spluttering pelt of laughter physically launches from the man, who snaps his whole body around to face his nephew. He looks rather comical, with a straw hat now perched on his head. "I assure you, this place is nothing like a trench. Despite what I'm sure your mother tried to tell you." He responds, only pretending to be offended by the notion, and the younger can't help but feel dewy and warm at the way joy hooks the corners of his mouth upward as he says, "it's actually immensely peaceful. Private."
Taehyung hums, and the sun is batting down upon him, his face ripening beneath it's appealing glow, coaxing up images of romance and chivalry, so befitting with the current state of mind his uncle is in. "Ah, so you ran away to the country with your true love?" He utters, his adoration coruscating in the apple-scented sunlight; cherry stems seem as if bursting from his eyes, spouting their little buds of life across his field of vision.
The man stiffens, and it's momentary, but enough for the brunette to realise he shouldn't push the topic too far. "Wouldn't that be lovely?" His voice is a small drizzle of precipitation across the pink twists of sunbeam. It melts into reflections of a rainbow as he smiles, turning to face himself in the small mirror beside the rack of sunglasses, changing the subject, "You like this hat?"
Opening his mouth to respond, Taehyung can't help but pause entirely, as, through the silver reflection of the looking-glass, he spies a familiar form of a person. Jeon Jungkook, he'll come to learn later, but, for now, it's the running boy.
A running boy, who's not running.
No, in fact, he's held perfectly still in place, in time, with his feet rooted into the ground, teeth bared as he catches air in his mouth, forcing it down to his lungs. He's stagnant, and his eyes are latched onto the mirror, meeting Taehyung's through it. His brows are furrowed as he stares the boy down in the reflection, the light of the summer forcing his skin to appear doused in glitter.
The brunette can't help the way his heart thumps at the eye contact, unable to look away, like he's trapped in the handsome boy's sordid jurisdiction. His eyes are so intense, black like tar, sticky enough to get your hands caught up in it forever; he holds a profusion of the horoscopes within those eyes, pulling the other toward him, tempting him into his black holes of glory.
There's a man stood behind him, tall and looming, with a coat a shade of camel, like packing tape, wrapped all around his tall body — in spite of the heat. He starts to walk, tapping Jungkook's shoulder, having not quite seen Taehyung.
Just as he snaps out of it and makes to turn around, to see the boy in the flesh, the eyes pull away from him, leaving a long trail of seductive sludge behind them. The boy starts running again, and Taehyung watches him leave, watches the dust his boots leave behind, as he trails after the tall man. He dives into a building a few doors down, and bells chime as he pushes it open.
"I'll take it as a no?" Namjoon chuckles, prying the younger back into reality. He pulls the hat from his head. They continue on. Taehyung feels like, from that moment on, even though the boy is no longer in sight, he can feel his eyes on him.
Watching.
&&&
The barn Taehyung's staying in has a grand view of the lake; he can watch the way it stretches into the plum-coloured clouds of twilight, a picturesque manifestation of equanimity pooling across those lavender-green waters. Looking at the sky, he feels strangely as if looking into a jam jar: a blackberry fermentation of sugars that appeal so wondrously to his senses. The day ends with the strum of a guitar, as Seokjin sits on the patio, plucking so wondrously at the strings.
He'd spent plenty of time with the man as soon as they'd gotten home; feeding their chickens and watching the sheep in opposing fields, observing their feet as they sink into the moss of their wonder. Seokjin had set them beside a fire, and had played a soft tune on his guitar, leaving an echo of sweet melodies in Taehyung's mind — the remnants of a lullaby to help him get to sleep.
He loves the countryside. That's what he concludes, as he keeps his eyes locked on the glistening waters, that start to fade away into the permeation of the night. The day slips into darkness, and the stars fill up their bellies, clutching at the world, spilling their smiles across it.
He feels beautifully old-fashioned as he slides into his cotton bedsheets, listening to singing insects and cooing birds, as they, too, make their descent toward bed. He blows out a candle before he leans back against the pillow — the barn did have electricity, but, Taehyung rather liked the escapism that came with lighting his life with candles.
Sleep seems to fold across him as delicately as the night spreads across the sky, like ink dripping across pages of poetry, invoking each and every line with a prepossessing word of love.
He'd been having nightmares recently; startling shapes of ghouls and monsters, that manifested as humans in the dark. They sink their teeth into him, unfurl their shadows across him, bringing him down into the pits of their cold, black hearts. Alas, tonight, he feels more at peace than he has in a while, albeit, his peace comes with the forced ignorance of what's going on in his mind. He'll let himself pretend for a while.
At least, that's what he'd hoped.
Unfortunately, the universe was hardly ever on the boy's side these days. This becomes abundantly clear, as, just as his mind seems to melt down into an illumined, pliant state of dream, a sudden scraping causes his eyes to snap open. It's a squeaking sort of sound, high-pitched, that shakes like wobbling plastic. It's a sound he struggles to comprehend in the dark.
It's only as the cold air spills into the room, that his mind fully wakes up and he realises, with a heart-wrenching burst of horror, that the window was being pulled open.
His body is heightened by emotional arousal, anxiety forcing his limbs to twist and writhe, his heart thrumming more blood across the expanse of his framework. It's the thud of feet hitting the floor that forces him fully awake. With a twist of his waist, he lurches himself up into a sitting position, and his eyes are wide open, easily making out the figure that had just climbed through the window.
They seem to stop their menstruations. In fact, for a moment, Taehyung thinks he's looking at a statue, as the boy, with his green body, wrapped in camouflage trousers and a dark emerald shirt; with earrings made of black feathers, that dangle across his shoulders; with teeth that seem to take the shades of the moon, jutting from his mouth; with his raven hair, falling across his face, curly and silken; with those dark, dark eyes, that stare into his soul, the boy is completely still.
Running boy.
Their eyes meet, both seemingly as surprised as the other, as the shadows of midnight spread across the room. The silence stretches out for a short moment.
It's interrupted as Taehyung comes to his senses, his instincts kicking in, his lips pulling apart to shout — to who? He doesn't know. The heavens, perhaps.
However, the intruder sees it coming, as he's already leaping toward the bed, his form luminous and black by equal measures, muscles slithering as one knee comes to the mattress, the other crouching slightly. His hand slaps over Taehyung's mouth, and he's so close now, breathing across the boy's face, eyes even darker from this proximity.
"Shh." He says, as he captures Taehyung's gaze in his, leaning so close to him. The position is odd, with the boy's essence seeping across the brunette, trapping him on the bed, telling him to be quiet, as he feels him exhale against his palm. Taehyung's heart thumps so hard he thinks the other must hear it. His tone is rough, caliginous, as he warns, "look, I don't want to hurt you. But, if you scream, I will have no other option." His eyes explore the brunette's more vehemently, spritzing across his face maniacally. His own narrow as he doesn't receive any form of answer. "Okay?"
Taehyung, desperately trying to force his breathing back to normal, just nods, quickly, intensely. His eyes are wide, and he supposes the stranger must be able to see all the fear that pools within them.
They remain in the same position for a second, as the running boy seems to survey him, contemplating whether or not he was going to tell the truth. Taehyung was, because, truly, he doesn't know what good screaming will do him, the house was most likely too far for Namjoon or Seokjin to hear him. Besides, the running boy was muscular, and he was vastly intimidating; he looked as though he could back up his threat. Taehyung doesn't want to test it.
He seems to believe him, eventually. Slowly, he retreats his hand back, and leans his whole body back a little, but still close enough to hurt Taehyung should he need to.
There's another pregnant pause, as the brunette tries the retrieve the breaths that the other had stolen. He traces the boy's every movement with his gaze, unsure what exactly he should do.
Thankfully, the other speaks first, and he says his words with the hints of a smile gracing his features; it's perhaps a little more serious than a smile though. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
Taehyung's breathing stops all together, and he just watches, as the other's expression seems to grow a little more smug.
"I wasn't expecting anyone to be here," He explains, though it didn't really explain much. He drops his stare to Taehyung's mouth, then down to his neck, trailing all the way down to his white and black pyjamas. They were a matching set, with a button up top, that was perhaps a little too proper of an attire to wear to bed than most people wore nowadays. He feels strangely self conscious with the way the other boy's mouth twists into a smirk. It looks rather cruel in the dark. "I'm Jungkook, by the way."
Their eyes meet again. The running boy, Jungkook, looks expectant. Taehyung struggles to find his voice for a moment and it comes out a little shaky as he replies, "Taehyung." He's unsure why he gave the boy who'd just broke into his bedroom his name, but, there was just something so easy to trust in the blackness of his inspection.
"Taehyung?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side, as if deliberating over whether he likes the name. His tongue licks across his bottom lip and one of his eyes narrow. "I saw you in town today, didn't I?"
Sensing the boy wasn't all that threatening, he manages to speak a little more eloquently, as he responds in a suppression of glee at being remembered, "I think so."
"You think so, huh?" He chuckles, and it comes out low and hushed, like he knew the brunette was more certain than his words were letting on. "Hm."
It's silent again.
The bed springs creek as Jungkook suddenly leaps off of them, and his black boots thud against the wooden floor as he moves around the room. He walks around with this strange sort of expertise, that seems indicative of the fact he'd been here before.
With more room to breathe, and to finally get into a more relaxed position, Taehyung forces his voice to be more steady, more certain, as he asks, "why are you here?"
Jungkook doesn't look up, just goes to the cabinet in the corner of the room. Taehyung watches him desperately.
"I'm just—" He begins, as, instead of opening the cabinet door, he uses those muscles of his, to move the entire piece of furniture, pushing it to the side. It looks so effortless. His hand disappears into the wall, at least, that's what it looks like in the dark. When it reappears a moment later, he's holding a backpack — that same one Taehyung had seen him running with when they'd driven past him on the way here. "Getting something." He grins, shaking the object in Taehyung's direction.
The brunette watches as the stranger pushes the cabinet back in place, covering up the hole in the wall.
"What is it?" He asks, whispers, and he finds his feet slipping out of the sheets, gently meeting the cold floor.
Jungkook looks down at him, drawing slightly nearer. He slings the backpack over his shoulder, making a show of it, as if dangling it before Taehyung, like fish bait. He pouts mockingly, before his lips twist into a maniacal expression of cruelty. His pretty features dangle from his neck in the dark, making him seem like a shadow. "Never you mind."
This aggravates the other boy, a lot, and his eyebrows scrunch as he retorts, "you can't just come into my room and take stuff."
"Oh?" His arms fold across his chest, and his head contorts itself sideways, his smirk so clear, even in the stifled fragments of light. "And what makes this your room?"
Irritated by the boy's insufferable cockiness, Taehyung becomes a little exasperated. "It's my uncle's barn," He explains, copping some of Jungkook's arrogance, "I'm staying here, so that makes it my room."
"Namjoon's your uncle?" He asks then, eyes a little softer, yet still gleaming with this playful sort of narcissism, that almost made him look like a child.
"Yeah." Confused, Taehyung supposes his uncle must know Jungkook somewhat, as, the town didn't exactly seem overrun with people. It seemed like the kind of place where everyone knew everyone.
"Interesting. And he's staying in his house?"
"Obviously."
Jungkook nods, and he draws closer still, till he's stood directly in front of the brunette, who's feet are now dangling from the bed. The new position makes the boy look ten feet tall, his body looming over Taehyung's, like a shadow, like he's everything the devil wishes he could be.
"Word of advice, pretty." He starts, making sure he has Taehyung's full attention. He smirks irritatingly at the sight of the other's gulp, his voice melting down into a luxurious whisper, "don't tell someone who's just broken into your room that there's no one near enough to hear you scream."
The brunette can't help the way his eyes widen, nor can he help the way his breath hitches audibly. He certainly can't help the way his cheeks flame at the adjective pretty.
Jungkook seems to like the fact he'd managed to fluster the boy. His face is tight with superiority, mouth twitching into a smile, so juxtaposing to his tone, in the way it's so benign and childlike in it's innocence. "You staying here a while?" He asks, soft.
Absently, the boy nods, and he's not sure why. Why give the other more details about him? He finds it must be because he's still so entranced by him, in the exact same way he had been when he'd first seen him.
The boy nods as he makes his way back to the window, leaving a trail of ice behind, encompassing the space he was no longer taking up. "Good." He says, as he slips himself through the window, so his legs seem to dangle, and he appears as if it's only his arms that hold him up. Taehyung's heart lurches at the sight.
It almost falls from his mouth as Jungkook's ghoulish, little face suddenly disappears, his entire body dropping.
He rips himself from his bed, and clutters to the window. He almost wants to scream as soon as his head is out the window and he can see Jungkook again, stood on the grass, unscathed. Taehyung doesn't think it was possible to survive a fall like that, yet, there Jungkook is.
The black-haired boy looks back at up at him, his teeth so crystalline in the light, as he smiles and whisper-shouts, "I'll see you around, Taehyung."
&&&
The next time Taehyung comes into contact with Jungkook is a lot sooner than expected.
Taehyung had woken up later than he usually would, as he'd found it rather difficult to fall asleep. It was hard, what with the titivating thrum of excitement coursing through him since Jeon Jungkook had leapt from his window. The purple sheets he'd curled into suddenly felt alive with prismatic hypertension; shocking reds, resplendent greens, unwinding blues, a beautiful mirage of fantasy unfurling before him, as his mind was overtaken with thoughts of the boy who'd climbed through his window.
Namjoon had taken him fishing during the day, and Taehyung wasn't very good at it, truth be told. His hands weren't exactly adapted to perform physical tasks; he'd spent his life only using his hands to turn pages of books or to grip at bedsheets and curtains.
The lake had been so still as they'd sat beside it, the glimmer of life refracting from it. They'd sat beneath the sun, as it bled through the trees, slipping against their skin and their smiles. They talked for a while about fish and the ocean and the earth and how the ocean filled the Earth and how Taehyung had never been swimming in the ocean. They talked a lot about memories and futures, but they kept avoiding certain topics, and they both had to pretend they didn't notice how they'd skirt around them tactically.
Namjoon had caught exactly one fish, and Taehyung hadn't got any. He didn't mind, he knew he had a while to perfect his craft.
Near the end, Seokjin had padded down to them with freshly squeezed fruit juice and sandwiches with homemade jam. "Here you are, Tae, dear." He'd said, and the brunette laughed as he realised he hadn't brought any for Namjoon.
He listened quietly as they bickered, and Seokjin began whining at Namjoon because apparently he was the best at fishing, and had wanted to be the one to take Taehyung.
"Don't get so upset, love."
Taehyung thinks that's what his uncle had said to calm him down, but he'd been trying not to interrupt their intimate moment. It was quite hard because the rest of the world was so still around them, like they'd created their own little chasm within it, only for them.
When he goes to bed that night, he'd watched them walk to their house tangled in one another's embrace and he'd almost longed for it. He wanted to slap himself in the face as he immediately thought of Jungkook as he watched them. He blames it on the pull of the night that starts to envelope him, and forces himself to recall what had happened the night before. He blames it on his own loneliness.
He's not exactly expecting for Jungkook to make another appearance, as the boy had seemed to get what he wanted from the room and, now that he knew there was someone in there, it was unlikely he'd come back. Alas, he's not surprised when he does hear his window starting the creek open just as he's about to drift to sleep.
Pushing his body up with a start, he needs to verify it is in fact Jungkook, not some other thief. He's glad to see the familiar form of the boy, as he wiggles through the small gap he makes for himself. As soon as they lock eyes, immediately the brunette becomes embarrassed by that splendour, and forces himself to be annoyed.
"Heya, sleepy." Jungkook grins at him, and he's still got feathers in his ears, but, this time they're green, dark green, like moss. He gives him the nickname as if it was a strange thing to do — to be asleep in his bed at night.
Taehyung's frown is soft but the boy notices it nonetheless. "You can't just crawl through my window whenever you feel like it." He announces, and he tries to make his voice clear, coherent, something like an order.
Jungkook just laughs — a silvery little sound, that tinkers across the dark room like bells, or like musical glasses, all echoey and light. "Ah, come on, lighten up. You're not angry about it really, are you?" And his head cocks to the side, his eyes white in the shadows of the moon, and they flick over Taehyung's face, his shoulders, his chest, his legs, his arms, his mouth. His grin broadens. "You're happy to see me, I can tell." His words are dripping with arrogance, but the way he says them makes them sound more childish, innocent.
Taehyung doesn't know what makes him feel this way, but he can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he somewhat thinks that perhaps this is a hallucination.
"I can see you trying not to smile."
Subconsciously, Taehyung bites at the inside of his cheek, and he thinks he could be blushing. It's humiliating to be told such a thing by a boy he should be angry at, by a boy he should be trying to get out of his room. He's not entirely sure why he feels so attracted to him, but there's something so glittery about him, so magical, that makes Taehyung feel so alive.
"Just smile." The boy says, and he's a respectable distance away, stood beside the window, and yet Taehyung can still feel the heat that spools from his mouth. He laughs to himself as he draws nearer and the brunette instantly draws back — though he doesn't really have anywhere to go. "Come on," He sing-songs, as his footsteps leave pretty, little creaks in the floorboards, "just smile for me."
Immediately Taehyung looks down, hiding the fact he actually did want to smile. He's always been one to trust people easily, to befriend people easily, but he's grown to realise that he shouldn't. People aren't generally as nice as they seem, and he shouldn't let himself trust this boy just because he has a pretty smile.
"Hey." Jungkook's voice is suddenly right in his face, like a boom of fresh air, and Taehyung startles to realise that he's crouching down beside the bed. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful he is, and, even in the dark, with the caliginous curl of the night obscuring his features, there's something so temptingly soft in his gaze as he looks over at Taehyung. "Will you forgive me for scaring you if I can make you smile properly?"
Taehyung's brow rises unintentionally.
"Come on." The boy straightens up, stands tall, and Taehyung's whole head reels back to watch his features grow further away again. His eyes widen as he sees Jungkook's hand, opening invitingly in his face. "I found something cool on my way here. Can I show you?"
Unsure, the boy looks back up at him, at his eyes that emanate fantasy and care, and they look back down at him, begging him to follow his own desires.
His heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest. He sighs. He takes Jungkook's hand.
The boy's grin is marvellous, radiant, incandescent, and he pulls Taehyung up from the bed with this sense of ease that's actually a little startling. He has muscles, Taehyung has seen them, but he hadn't been expecting them to be used in such a opulent manner. Hate inundates him as he realises he's even spellbound by something as simple as muscle movement.
"Good." He nods, and he pulls the boy toward the window.
"Wait!" Taehyung exclaims.
Jungkook looks at him and smiles, "ah, he speaks."
"Where are we going?" The brunette whispers back, ignoring the comment.
"It's a surprise." His eyes are wild, wide and orange, like the cracking of a fire.
"But— my pyjamas—" He tries.
"Yes, they're adorable, come on," The other brushes him off, pretending not to know what he was talking about. Or, perhaps he wasn't pretending, perhaps it didn't even cross his mind that Taehyung would be insecure to run around outside in his nightwear.
He wants to resist, wants to insist that he's allowed to get changed, but he finds himself plagued with another such ordeal. His voice is like a cower as he questions, "out the window?"
"Of course."
"I'll just use the door—"
"Don't be a killjoy." Jungkook reprimands playfully, already starting to squeeze himself through it, releasing his grip on the other's hand as he does so. "It's quite thrilling." His smile wilts slightly as he sees the look of genuine terror flummoxed to the other boy's face. "Hey, it's fine, you just gotta jump, it won't hurt."
Taehyung internally groans and he thinks about just bolting for the stairs instead. Yet, there's some wicked tendril of peace that slips across Jungkook's expression that forces roots to twist around his feet, his bare feet, keeping him in place. Lowly, he admits, "I'm scared of heights."
He watches as both of Jungkook's brows rise up, his face soft and naked, supple like a flower petal, that shrinks against the starlit crisper of the moon. His head shakes and his smile returns, beautiful, "don't worry, Taehyung, I won't let you fall. You can trust me."
His head falls to the side, features twisted. "Can I?"
Using just one hand to grip the window ledge, Jungkook presses the other to his heart, his mouth falling open in mock offence, "uh, yes." He looks so serious in it, it makes Taehyung want to laugh. "It's like..." Jungkook continues, as if suddenly understanding it shouldn't be so easy to just blindly trust people, "hm," his face quirks into a palatial arrangement of hope, as he says, "it's like Peter Pan. Faith, trust and pixie dust, hm?"
Taehyung looks at him plainly. That's it, that's who the boy reminds him of, that's why he finds himself to tantalised by the boy — he's just like Peter Pan, crawling through his window, all glittery and majestic, smiling so childishly, so cherubically. He supposes that makes him so easy to trust. "You think you're Peter Pan?"
The boy's nostrils flare and he laughs, wholesome and warm. "Of course, I'm Pan, and I'm going to make you fly, darling." It's cheesy. It's a stupid line, but it comes across so earnest, so sweet. As if his words aren't enough to make the boy flustered, he wiggles his eyebrows for good measure and he slides both legs through the gap. Taehyung isn't as horrified to watch him jump this time, as he actually can watch, and he sees him crumple to the ground, landing messily on his feet, knees slightly bent, held together. He grunts a little, but his head cocks back upward a second later and his hands shake sporadically — something like jazz hands. "See, easy!"
"Yeah, for you." The boy mutters forlornly.
"Look," Jungkook says immediately, his voice a tender percolate of warm dew-grass, like the sun, like s'mores by the fire. "Just jump, I'll catch you." He keeps his voice quieter now that he's outside and there's more chance of being heard, but it's loud enough to make Taehyung feel nice and sickly all over.
"Catch me?" He repeats, ludicrously, "I'll crush you."
"Oh, please," His eyes roll, Taehyung watches them, how lovely they are — like an inverted sky, with a pale, white sheet, and a black moon that rolls across it, winsome and wrong. "Faith, trust and pixie dust."
Oh, how Taehyung wishes he truly did have something like pixie dust, a little sprinkle of magic to help him coax away his fears. He gulps. And, there it is. As he looks down, as he locks eyes with the other, he sees all that dust in his eyes, strews of gold freckled in amongst the glorious black of his gaze, like trust itself is lingering there.
With an unsteady breath, he crawls through the window and tries to ignore the flare of joy in the back of his throat as he sees Jungkook smile. His heart catches, his breaths pummel, and he looks up at the sky and thinks fuck it.
He doesn't look at the ground as he releases his hold on the ledge, just the sky, forcing himself to pretend to fly.
He's not entirely sure the best way to land, but, he doesn't have time to think about it, and, nor does he even need to, because within seconds there's a hand in the crook of his legs, just behind his knees, and another against his back. Breathlessly, he looks up, and there's Jungkook, smiling at him in the dark, holding onto him. He really had caught him.
"Told you you could trust me."
Taehyung wants to smile in his face, wants to unleash the full-throttle velocity of the stars' brightness into his teeth. Alas, he forces himself not to, he forces himself to scramble from the boy's grip, breathless and stupid. Jungkook lets him, and his own smile has turned cocky.
His fingers lamely attempt to busy themselves in dusting off his own pyjamas — stripes, silks, soft. His feet are cold against the pulpy crunch of the grass, and he almost misses being carried already, being smooshed into the warmth of another body. He shakes away the thought, tries to prevent any thought getting through, lest he realise how foolish he is in this situation — following a complete stranger out his window.
"Allons-y." The stranger says then, startling Taehyung out of his ridiculous entanglement.
His eyes move before his legs move, as he watches Jungkook stride through the night, wading across the black-violet slew of the stars, amongst rustling insects and twinkling wind-chimes. Taehyung almost has to sprint to catch up, what with how fast the other seems to walk, across the lawn of Namjoon and Seokjin's garden, as if it's his own. His mind is bruising, throbbing with his own idiocy, but his heart seems as if split at the pulmonary artery, hanging from the organ, slipping out and latching around Jungkook's wrist, forcing him to follow along.
Jungkook doesn't look back, as if he knows Taehyung will be following — or, perhaps, it's more like he's not bothered either way. The latter ignores this notion, as he follows the boy over the small fence, hopping over it with ease, heading into the tall grass, just as Taehyung had seen him do the other night, with the shadowy boys and their wild cries.
A sense of unease shutters across him.
It's a little like a horror movie, Taehyung can't help but think, like Children of the Corn, as he follows the other through the grass, into the night, into the maze of his nightmare, wherein they're unaware they're supposed to be playing hide and seek with ominous children. He feels sick.
Without word, Jungkook seems to sense the hesitation, and his hand shoots out behind him, fastening around Taehyung's. He pulls him through the grass and they walk in this strange silence, wherein the boy with feather earrings seems perfectly content, while the boy in his pyjamas feels like he's walking to his death.
"You're from the city." Jungkook says, and it's almost like a question, but it sounds as if he already knows. He whispers it so soft, so conversational and casual, it almost doesn't seem odd that he would know such a thing. Taehyung supposes it wasn't that weird, perhaps he oozed a city vibe.
"Yeah."
"Hm." Their hands remain clamped together, palms melded, fingers intertwined, and it's a tad too intimate for someone you hardly know.
Taehyung gulps as he lets go, tries to ignore the way Jungkook's shoulders deflate a little. Then, tenderly, he asks, offers something of peace in return, "you live here?"
"I do." The boy replies, slow, and he keeps his eyes forward, navigating their way through the grass.
There's a trickle of silence. Taehyung asks, "do you like it?"
There's something like a laugh in the back of Jungkook's throat as he shrugs, "yeah, I like it." It sounds like a lie, but he doesn't let Taehyung think about it much as he continues with his slightly sensual murmur of the question, "You must think it's pretty boring compared to your place though, hm?"
The brunette's head shakes, though he knows Jungkook can't see. "No, I like it here."
"Doesn't mean it's not boring."
"It's..." Taehyung exhales, ponders, "peaceful."
Jungkook hums and they don't say anything else. There's no tension in the air, only mosquitoes and clouds, that puff across the sky, grey and hardly distinguishable — unsteady, like leaking masses of cotton wool, peaceful, like a pillow for a fairy or for an angel. It's strange to Taehyung, just how much trust he feels in the other boy; perhaps part of it is delusion, or misplaced hope at the chance of something better than the city boys and girls, who roll across the world in their trucks, with their lipstick and their quick fucks. This seems so much more immense and so much more real, despite the fanaticism woven into Jungkook's very existence.
He's so friendly, seems so happy to be doing this, so much so, Taehyung hadn't even thought of why Jungkook had come back to see him in the dead of the night, had taken him wherever it was he was being taken. What's he planning on doing?
Strangled with doubt, Taehyung quickly proceeds to ask, "where are we go—"
But Jungkook places a finger to his lips, his entire body whipping around in a slamming motion of his shoulders, whipping grass away from around him. They stay silent for a second, Jungkook's finger to his lips, and Taehyung's eyes are wide, looking up slightly to meet the ravenette's, who stands tall beside him. He's probably only got an inch on Taehyung, but he's wearing thick, platformed boots, and Taehyung's bare-foot, so, the other gives the impression he towers over the brunette's head, like he himself is the tall grass.
His grin is slow but fantastic, and, over his shoulder, Taehyung can just about make out they've reached the end of the grass, and a dark ambush of trees spreads out in it's wake. "Be quiet." He tells the boy, as his hand comes away from his mouth. Taehyung can't help but be mildly irritated by how bossy the other is, yet, he forgets about it instantly as soon as he turns sideways, steps out of the green vapours of vegetation.
Taehyung can see it now — the sloshing blue of a river of flowers, stretched out beneath the brown trees, that twist against each other, all connected like a grove. An arch of branches stretches around them, a tunnel, with pink petals and dark trunks, thick and heady, like rich spices, all chilli and ginger. The moon leaks through the wondrous ceiling of saplings, and glows against the reason Jungkook had told him to be quiet.
Settled across the azure streams of flowerets, a deer is curled up into itself, amber, antlers; a fawn nestled within it's body, with speckles of white decorating it's tawny coat. The moonlight seems to stroke them, soft drops of light stretching across their bodies, making them glow in the pap of the earth.
Taehyung's hand involuntarily comes to his mouth, squeezes against his lips, as he finds himself adoring of the scene before him. He's never seen a real deer before, he realises. The most exotic animal they have in the city is a squirrel, and so this is strangely incredible to witness. His eyes are wide as he tries to keep quiet, tries not to squeal at how adorable it is.
Jungkook grins at him, but Taehyung doesn't see.
"Look," He whispers after a moment, and his finger comes up, points outward, a flicker of gold alive against his skin, forcing Taehyung's eyes to follow. "Fireflies." And Taehyung marvels at the way the creatures dance around the still air. Like little sparks of fire, the insects writhe and twist and perform their acrobatic tricks. It's so electric. Jungkook's finger drifts to another position, toward the back of the scene, where orange flowers curve up across the wall of woods. "Tiger lilies."
He's never seen such pretty flowers. Only roses or tulips at flower stands or petrol stations. They're too vibrant for reality.
"Peaceful." Taehyung mumbles under his breath. He doesn't mean to, but his eyes close involuntarily, and his entire body seems to shudder, inhaling the atmosphere of calm, of tranquility.
As his eyes reopen, Jungkook has this quizzical sort of smile on his face, and he's watching Taehyung like he can't quite figure him out. His voice falls low as he says, "You're very easily impressed, Taehyung."
The brunette feels some strain of insecurity struggle within the confines of his heart and he shrugs, tries to be nonchalant.
Unfortunately, Jungkook seems rather good at picking up on things, so, he says, through a breath, "I like it. It's—" and, for the first time, he seems to struggle for words, "new." He settles for.
Taehyung can't help but like it.
"Makes me sure you'll like what I'm going to show you next time." His cockiness returns, and his eyebrows look so dark and strong in this faded light, his face scrunched up in something ghoulish and ample.
Taehyung's tongue rolls against his bottom lip. "Next time?"
"Yeah." The running boy's eyes widen, flashes of ivory in the stark-black night, and Taehyung can feel them trailing up and down his body, a survey that seems more for fun than for anything else. "Next time, I'll make sure your feet don't get all muddy."
The brunette's eyebrow quirks, and his eye shoots down, presented with that very image — muddy feet. He hadn't even noticed.