taking advantage of the kid's delay, taehyung attempts to catch the snorlax. succeeds, of course, because this is not a fucking game.
except that it is, and he's very good at it if he must say so himself.)
gukkie;
uh
you;
clever
gukkie;
we need to talk and stuff and why not do it over coffee
you;
need to talk about what jeonggukah 🤔🤔🤔
gukkie;
listen.
i'm walking you to ur dorm after your class ends i'll have boba & coffee & muffins
you;
dont dirty talk to me like that in public im finna bust a nutybjmn
gukkie;
i'll take that as an agreement see ya later
you;
cya! ;~)))
✲
what was expected in the span of these four days is how late taehyung is for his morning classes due to the one hour he spent on following a group of seven people he's never talked to– no, fuck that, met before with the promise of a raichu a few (that turned out to be several) blocks away from uni.
his teacher doesn't seem too surprised though, just hands him a few sheets of paper and continues to teach something related to renaissance taehyung can't quite focus on because he still can't get over the fact that jeongguk texted him first. shit.
he absolutely does not read over their last convo another time.
and definitely doesn't check his hair's situation on the unlit screen of his phone every ten minutes to see if he's presentable enough for a guy he shouldn't be this nervous over what the fuck– he saw jeongguk shitting his pants in 3rd grade, he's not that superior. kim taehyung shouldn't be this worried about his appearance. especially when the someone he wants to look good for might be pissed at him. what the fuck.
daydreaming ensues somewhere around michelangelo, taehyung's palms pillowed under his cheeks as he stares off into the horizon through badly tinted windows.
he thinks about the terrible, terrible ways jeongguk can react; telling him he 'needs time' or 'can't see him anymore' because well, it's not just bros being dudes at all, much to taehyung's dismay.
but it's also sort of his fault because it could've been a brojob, it really could have if only taehyung hadn't liked it so much.
(fuck, okay, fine, maybe kim taehyung isn't as heterosexual as he thought. but he's somewhat okay with that. okay.)
he heaves out a sigh, "i can't believe i'm–"
a large, warm palm on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts, has him jumping on his seat and painfully knocking his knee against the underside of his desk.
"fucking shit–"
"tae?"
and there is is– that gentle, low voice that never fails to make the blonde's heart do a backflip within the confines of his rib cage and immediately forget about the dull pain on his kneecap.
