invisible string

Chapter 1

It's Chopin indeed, Waltz op. 64 no. 2, one of Taehyung's personal favourites.

Which Jeon Jungkook seems to be doing fine with, until he gets to the più mosso, and starts fucking murdering the piece.

Okay, well, maybe not exactly murdering it. He's still Jeon Jungkook, and if he wasn't good, Taehyung wouldn't feel the need to fight him every chance he gets. The main reason Taehyung hates Jeon Jungkook is exactly that, how good he is.

But this is piano, it's Taehyung's territory, and Taehyung isn't close enough to watch Jungkook's hands on the keyboard, but he knows Jungkook's completely ignoring the fingering surely reported on the scores. Taehyung can hear it.

So he decides to put the poor instrument out of its misery at the butchering hands of Jeon Jungkook, and he joins him at the grand piano, leaning on the now closed lid with his elbows, right by Jungkook's side so that he can grin down at him.

Jungkook's eyes flick to him for a moment, then roll, but he doesn't stop playing. That is, until the distraction fucks up his fingering too much, and he is forced to stop. "Fuck," he says. "What the fuck do you want, Kim?"

Taehyung sighs. "To make sure this poor baby will survive the night," he says, pensively stroking the grand piano's lid.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Get out. Room's booked. By me. I have better shit to do than listen to you talk. As is always the case."

Taehyung shrugs. "Need help with good ol' Chopin?"

Jungkook raises his eyes to Taehyung's, probably mortally offended or something. "Me? Help from you?" he asks incredulously, and then scoffs, not saying anything else and busying himself with taking up the scores from the music stand to take a closer look.

Taehyung can't help it. He leans forward, to point at the fingering. "See these little tiny numbers? They're here for a reason, especially for a piece this fast," he says with a grin. "Your problem is the fingering, Jeon."

Jungkook's mouth quirks on one side. "First time I've been told this."

Taehyung feels a little bit of heat in his stomach, and ignores it in favour of keeping his grin pointed at Jungkook's tired eyes and quirked mouth. "Maybe no one really knows what good fingering is like, if they think yours is so fucking amazing," he replies conversationally, studying his own fingers. "'M a pianist, after all. You know what they say about us."

"That you're a bunch of presumptuous shitheads who do nothing but sit on their asses and think the world should bow to them just 'cause your instrument is the best?" Jungkook retorts, his eyes getting angrier when he raises them to stare up at Taehyung again.

Taehyung feels his rage flare like it's a pool of fuel, and Jungkook just lit a match, inching it closer and closer because he wants to see how close he can get before it starts burning. Just sit on our asses? Just fucking sit on our asses?

"Watch it, Jeon," Taehyung whispers, not straightening his back and keeping his face at eye-level with Jungkook.

There's a knock on the open door, which cuts off Jungkook's reply. They both turn, seeing one of the keepers of the conservatory in the doorway. He's an elderly man with a cloud of white hair, and even he, when he sees it's Taehyung and Jungkook, rolls his eyes. "We close in twenty minutes," he says. "'M not gonna come warn you again. If you're not out in twenty, you get out tomorrow morning."

Jungkook smiles kindly at the man. "Thanks, Mr. Lee, we'll be out in a second," he says politely.

Mr. Lee nods, smiling at Jungkook in return, and leaves, closing the door after himself.

Taehyung doesn't budge, and he grabs Jungkook's bun, pulling it a little so that Jungkook will look at him again. "How is it," he asks in a hum, "that you're such a fucking pain in the ass, rude and annoying, and yet you always fool anyone else into thinking you're some kind of fucking saint?"

Jungkook blinks. "Get your hands off my hair," he replies. "And it's 'cause I don't care about being polite with you. You don't deserve it, Kim."

Taehyung scoffs, and doesn't let go of Jungkook's hair. Instead, he pulls at the bun again, harder, and revels in hearing the small hiss coming from Jungkook's lips. "Should be kinder," he tells Jungkook, "I came all the way here to help you with Chopin even though I hate being in your presence."

Jungkook's eyes narrow. "Let go of my fucking hair," he repeats.

Taehyung smiles, and doesn't.

Jungkook stares at him for a moment, and then emits something that sounds like a growl. "If you want to fucking pull at my hair, then do it for a fucking reason at least," he says at last, like it's costing him a lot to say the words.

And it's always like this, isn't it, Taehyung thinks. Because he's been rock-hard since he started bickering with Jungkook, as often happens.

So he doesn't need to be told twice, and he pulls at Jungkook's hair with conviction, dragging him off the stool and then tossing him around a little until he is landing on his knees in front of Taehyung.

Jungkook looks up, his jaw set as he fumbles with Taehyung's jeans button and zipper. "I hate you, Kim," he almost spits, and the next moment his mouth is around Taehyung's cock, taking him all the way in, in one swift motion. Taehyung gives out a choked grunt when he sees Jungkook has pooled spit in his mouth and he's spreading it over Taehyung's cock with his tongue, to make the glide of his lips smoother.

He tightens his grip onto Jungkook's hair, and forces his dick harder down his throat, making him gag. "So fucking filthy," he murmurs. "I hate you too, Jeon."

...

Rain

...