"I know you're stressed about your project, Jeongguk, but you really need to loosen up."
The younger gives a look of disgust as he sketches onto his canvas with charcoal, "You're the last person I want to be hearing that from, Jimin. Now stop talking so I can get this done faster."
"It's a new place and it's pretty close to Hongik University. We could walk there. Come on, Guk, it'll be fun."
"How do you consider bad music and hangovers to be 'fun'?"
"There's more to clubbing than bad music and hangovers," Jimin argues weakly, "Please? I don't want to go alone."
Jeongguk gives him a frustrated look, "Why don't you go with Yoongi?"
"Yoongi hates crowded places."
"Why can't you respect my decisions like you respect Yoongi hyungs'?" Jeongguk asks, offended.
Jimin gives him a look. It doesn't take a genius to know not to fuck with Min Yoongi.
Jimin rolls his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. "You know what? I've been lenient with you because you're my friend and all, but I can't keep enabling you. We're already at the end of our first semester and you're still isolating yourself. You only ever talk to me when you need someone to help you with a project, and you've been ignoring everyone else for weeks!"
Jeongguk looks up from the canvas, at a loss for words. He opens his mouth to say something to defend himself but shuts it when he realizes there's nothing that can save him now. Jimin wasn't exactly wrong.
Jimin gets up from the stool to look at Jeongguk, who is now quite obviously hiding behind the canvas in front of him as if it were a shield. The younger flinches when Jimin's hand reaches his shoulder. Jeongguk hesitantly looks up to see his hyung's eyes piercing through him.
"Guk," with a deep breath, Jimin closes his eyes and opens them again to reveal a much calmer expression, "I know you're introverted, and that's perfectly fine, but you need to get over this pathetic fine arts major attitude. It's not poetic, it's fucking annoying. If you don't come with me on Saturday, you'll have to find another model for your project."
Jeongguk can only stare, eyes wide as Jimin slings his bag over his shoulder and opens the studio door.
"But-"
"And if that's not enough to convince you, I will not hesitate to throw your Iron Man collectibles out the window. Even if you hide them, i'll find them."
Without another word, Jimin is gone.
Jeongguk sits in silence for a while until the emptiness of the studio unnerves him. He looks back to the large, clean windows and notices that the sun has already gone down, but he can't discern much else from the reflections on the glass. He turns back around and looks at his hands, stained with black.
Jeongguk puts the charcoal down and stares blankly at his canvas. The sketch is almost completely finished. It'll take him at least a few days to find someone willing to model for him, but there are only two weeks left until the project deadline. He doesn't have a choice. He curses Jimin under his breath and packs up for the night.
The weekend comes faster than Jeongguk anticipated. Specifically Saturday night.
Jeongguk is sitting on his bed, engulfed in the blue light of his laptop when Jimin slams the door open. A normal person probably would've flinched, but Jeongguk is far too used to his roommate's capricious tendencies.
"Jeongguk, are you ready to go? We have to leave soon." Jimin says before taking his shoes off and closing the door behind him.
"Yeah," Jeongguk mumbles, trying to exaggerate how displeased he is about the whole thing, "I just have to put on a hoodie and we can leave." He shuts his laptop and gets out of bed to walk to his closet, but Jimin stops him dead in his tracks.
"Are those sweatpants? Oh, hell no," Jimin says, looking mortified, "You're going to a club, not a philosophy lecture. I should've known I couldn't trust you with this."
Confused, Jeongguk stands there and watches as Jimin rushes over to his own closet. He sorts through the mess for a while, grabbing things just to end up shaking his head and putting them back. Eventually, he has what seems to be an epiphany of sorts, returning to Jeongguk with a small bundle of clothes which he shoves into the other's arms.
"Try this on."
Jeongguk wants to argue, he really does, but he has to remind himself that he really doesn't have a choice right now. He drops his head in a feeling akin to shame and walks over to the bathroom to change, expecting the worst. First, he puts on a pair of tight leather skinny jeans that were a pain in the ass to get into, mind you, but they certainly did make his thighs look nice. Next up, he slips into a button-down shirt with long sleeves. It feels soft, he thinks. He likes it. Finally, he tucks his shirt into his pants and finishes with a belt. Pleased with himself, he opens the door and waits for Jimin's approval.
Jimin hears the door open and turns his attention from his phone to his roommate. For a moment he just stares with his eyes wide open. "Holy shit, Jeongguk, you look fucking hot."
At first, Jeongguk is taken aback by the compliment. Usually, when Jimin comments on his appearance, it's with words like 'hermit', 'rat' or 'trash can'. This is a nice change in Jeongguk's opinion. He could get used to this.
"And here I was starting to worry that you might end up being single for the rest of your life," Jimin says enthusiastically. Jeongguk dies a little inside.
"I don't know why I'm friends with you," Jeongguk says, "Let's go."
It's a typical Saturday night in the heart of Seoul. A night sky drowned out by city lights, people crowding the sidewalks and flashy signs at every corner. Standing in the midst of it all, it's exhilarating. Well, for most. Jeongguk might say otherwise. In high school, things might've been different. Back then, he would've agreed to just about anything. Jeongguk is different now, though. He would much rather be in his room or the studio right now, drawing and listening to music in peace.
It's almost 10 pm when Jimin decidedly stops in front of a particularly sketchy establishment, causing Jeongguk to almost bump into him. Jimin looks to Jeongguk, eyes lit up with excitement. Jeongguk looks back with resentment. The next thing he knows, he has Jimin's hand around his wrist and he's being pulled into the club.
The first thing he notices is vulgarity of the atmosphere. Booming music immediately assaults his ears. The stench of booze and sweat stings his nostrils as he navigates through the wall of grinding bodies wearing dangerously little to cover themselves. Jeongguk wonders if this place is just a step above hell.
Jeongguk looks for the hand around his wrist for reassurance that he isn't going to be brutally murdered tonight, but it isn't there. Unfortunately, Jimin is gone. It seems he let go as soon as they got inside. He scans the crowd just in case Jimin is close by, but it's all a blur of flashing lights and indiscernible faces. Fucking fantastic, Jeongguk thinks, although he knows he should've seen this coming.
It doesn't take long before he's at the bar, drinking away his bitterness. If anyone needs a drink right now, it's Jeongguk.
After he's had a few drinks, his discomfort is replaced with contentment. The muscles that were so tense under his shirt began to loosen up and his head wasn't hurting anymore. Instead, he felt a pleasant fuzziness extend from his head to his core and all the way to his fingertips.
Something grazes Jeongguk's shoulder, sending a shiver through his body.
"You don't seem like you belong here," a husky voice reaches his ears through the blaring music. The hand gradually slips down Jeongguk's back, also nearing his other shoulder. It's not a casual touch, but it also isn't invasive.
Jeongguk looks over his shoulder to see a man who appears to be around the same age as him. He can't read the other's expression in the poor lighting, but he can make out the other's appearance well enough. The man is dressed simply, wearing an oversized white V-neck and black jeans. His hair is ash grey and Jeongguk wonders if it's as soft as it looks. He's not exactly muscular, but he has vaguely toned body: not that Jeongguk is staring or anything. He also notices the other's exposed collarbone. The skin there is free of imperfections; so much so, Jeongguk has an urge to change that. When he realizes what he was just thinking, he snaps himself out of it and meets his eyes. He's not that drunk yet.
"You're probably right," Jeongguk says. He contemplates the other's unreadable expression as the hand on his back begins to trace light circles through the fabric of his shirt.
"Did you come here alone?"
"Yes," Jeongguk lies. He's not sure why he doesn't want to tell the other about Jimin. The part of his brain that uses logic shut down after the first few drinks.
The man looks away for a moment to think. Jeongguk finds himself looking closely at the other's lips. He notes how pink and chapped they are, contrasting with his golden complexion. Jeongguk wants to touch them. He wonders how the man in front of him manages to make chapped lips look so soft.
"Can I," the man starts, and leans in closer to Jeongguk's ear; close enough that he can feel the heat of the other's breath travel down his neck, "keep you company for a little while?" The man leans away to gauge a reaction and his hand ceases movement, waiting.
Jeongguk feels heat gather in his abdomen at the other's gaze. He nods.
This is something Jeongguk can't explain. He grew up having a couple girlfriends here and there, none of which ever lasted more than two months. They all happened the same way. A girl would ask him out. He would go along with it. They would kiss. Go on dates. Fuck. And eventually, he would be dumped. Something about being 'too closed off with his emotions' or something. Jeongguk didn't get it, though.
The point is, he's straight as an arrow. He's always been like this, and he is perfectly comfortable with it. Now, however, he's slightly intoxicated and desperate to have his hands on the body of a man he met no more than 10 minutes ago. But, other than that, he's straight! Definitely heterosexual. No questions asked.
Jeongguk doesn't remember how they got there, making out in the dimly lit handicapped stall of the men's bathroom, but he can't find it in himself to care.
He traces his tongue along the other's bottom lip, provoking hitched breaths and choked down moans that only get louder when he presses harder. Jeongguk presses him against the black tiled wall. His fingers linger along the other's waistline until he reaches under his shirt, nudging it up, finally getting his hands on the warm golden skin that's been obscuring his sense of rationality. He grips onto bare skin, tightly enough he might draw blood, and the other emits a gasp.
The man's own hands are pressed against Jeongguk's chest, tugging at his shirt. He leans his head down, breaking away from the kiss when it becomes too much, panting heavily to catch his breath. His hands are almost trembling when he reaches up to undo the buttons around the collar of Jeongguk's shirt. He immediately looks back up with lust in his eyes and he presses Jeongguk's lips to his. It's searing hot. Jeongguk is dragged by the collar and pushed roughly against the wall, reversing their roles. There is little he can do in protest when the other's thigh is pressed into his crotch, and he feels nibbling on his bottom lip. It's messy. Uncoordinated. But, Jeongguk has never felt like this before. Overwhelmed with desire. The need to be touched.
"Oh my God," the man whispers onto Jeongguk's cheek, "You smell so fucking good."
Jeongguk feels himself get harder at his voice. The warm touch of golden hands barely meets Jeongguk's neck. The man's leg moves forcefully into Jeongguk's aching body while his fingers dance just above his skin, teasing him and making him moan onto parted lips. Rhythmically pressing his thigh against Jeongguk's clothed hardon, he licks across his upper lip and kisses him again. Jeongguk is losing it. He gives up on regaining dominance, accepting his defeat as he loses the strength to fight back.
They break apart again. The man moves his head into the crook of Jeongguk's neck, and he does nothing until Jeongguk feels a heated breath and warm lips reach the edge of his ear. A gentle bite and a pull on his earlobe before trails of open-mouthed kisses down Jeongguk's neck have him seeing stars. He scratches red marks on the other's back as he tries to keep himself from collapsing, legs ready to give out at any moment.
"Fuck," he moans as the man stops just above the base of his neck, "please."
He feels the other's lips curl into a smile against his skin, followed by a particularly rough thrust against his crotch. He bites his lip hard to stifle his moans, drawing blood. The man's mouth meets his skin again gently, but it feels like a pinch, leaving a hickey.
He starts to feel teeth graze against his skin softly. His breath hitches as the other bites down onto his neck, invoking a shock of pain that tenses his muscles.
It feels cold.
Dizzying.
Jeongguk tries to push the man away and fails. He feels weak. His vision blurs.
It feels like it's been hours when the grip on his shoulders is loosened. The pain stops and is replaced by a brief, warmth glide across his skin. He watches in a haze as the man with pretty ash grey hair and golden skin licks the color red off his upper lip. His expression is impossible to read.
"I'm sorry."
Jeongguk goes to ask 'why?', but no sound leaves his throat. His heart rate slows. Panic and confusion turn into to acceptance and tranquility. As his vision blackens, he thinks of that man's deep, husky voice, and the way his soft fingers glided so tenderly across his skin.
