it's not that taehyung doesn't have anyone to bone down– he's well aware that he can simply go clubbing and pick up someone with a dick post haste, though the idea of being inexperienced and going out with a stranger who may or may not know what they're doing isn't that appealing. he doesn't want to get butthurt about it afterwards (considering both meanings of the word), so he decides to just take advantage of whatever opportunity that seems appropriate for a pure, innocent twenty year old college student,
and ask anyone that is remotely close to him. it can't fail.
(hint: he's 90% it can, but he won't ponder much about it.)
thursday
"psst, hey, jeonggukie, so what's the answer to seventeen?", taehyung asks, jerking his chin in the direction of his textbook so the end of the pencil that's being mercilessly chewed between his teeth points at the question he's mentioning.
his hand is pillowed underneath his cheek, eyelids feeling heavy as he tries to focus on studying (not too hard– can't exert himself, has been terribly exhausted since question one), or rather in what his classmate writes down on his own notebook.
jeongguk sighs, massaging his temples with the hand that isn't scribbling nonsense (in taehyung's humble opinion) onto the sheet of paper in front of him. he lets his pen fall to the desk from between his fingers, turns around on the chair until he's facing taehyung, knees poking into the other's thigh uncomfortably.
"taehyung", jeongguk says, each syllable rolling off his tongue slowly and carefully as if to stop himself from going on a rampage, "are you even trying?"
taehyung glares at the other, an incredulous expression on his face. "of course i'm fucking trying– you blind?"
he takes his notes and shoves them into jeongguk's chest with as much force as he can manage to– which clearly isn't much considering how the other doesn't even flinch, but there was an attempt. the blonde narrows his eyes at his classmate, analyzing his expression as he checks taehyung's notes, all shitty handwriting and messy formulas (there's gotta be something useful there, there has to be).
jeongguk laughs.
"are you shitting me– i cannot believe", and he carries on with losing his shit, which seems positively unstoppable as taehyung just stares at him, features set in a scowl.
stop fucking laughing, taehyung says, but it still goes on for a few more seconds until jeongguk finally (finally) lets out this shaky breath, wipes at the corners of his eyes with his thumb. "tae, is this what you call an effort?"
"yeah?", taehyung tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised.
"cat drawings aren't gonna make you pass this semester, hyung", jeongguk's former amused expression softens, looking serious but still sympathetic as he places taehyung's notes back on the desk. "like, i always clear up my schedule to tutor you so we can stay in the same class you asshole, try giving me something back in return."
taehyung hums in thought and jeongguk knows there's either going to come out smoke from his ears from how hard he seems to be thinking or he's going to come up with the stupidest idea on earth.
"let me think..."
"don't hurt yourself", he teases. taehyung slaps his arm in retaliation.
