A M B I V A L E N C E

• K I M T A E H Y U N G •

H O N E Y
꿀

Sweet Nectar,
that's what I decide his lips are like as
his fingers pull on the fabric of my dress.
His whole being drips with honey,
delicate and delicious and capable of
devouring anything it touches, capable of
devouring me whole. But
he takes his time, sizes me up,
undresses me with his eyes first before
actually committing the act, the crime
of shedding my clothes without remorse
because nothing is more important in this
moment than the feeling of our skin
together. Bare and tangled and so
incredibly hot, he takes me, burns me,
scorches my soul with the heat of his
heartbeat as we melt together.

It's incredible, the notion of something so
sickly sweet bleeding fire into my open
wounds. But the flames do not bring pain,
it is not like kicking sand into scratches or even
pouring acid into lungs, no,
it is more like daffodils or spider lilies
kissing my cheekbones like butterflies
ever so lightly,
only yielding promises of something that is
not quite hope but something akin to it,
something closer to the stars. Because that's
where he brings me, right to the edge of the
universe, right to the brink of existence itself
where breath is forgotten and impulses become
more important than past mistakes or
squandered time or anything else.

And then it's over. The war waged
between heart and mind is numb, but an end
is nothing more than a new beginning and
he knows that, knows his power of creation
and the extent of it and how I—no, we
so badly needed this.

"I missed you."
It is with those three words, as he wraps us
together within a cocoon of white sheets
and lust, that I realize his lips are
sugar coated and dewy
not of their own accord, but because of
the sucrose birthed from his voice, that low,
baritone sound that is capable of rising bumps
on my flesh just as quick as his
kiss to my temple, fleeting, as if
I wasn't meant to notice.
(But how could I not?)

"If you stay, you wont need to
miss me."
My words are selfish, I know, but
I respond in the only way I know how,
with the truth weaved into obvious longing and
I just know that his face is mimicking the
emotion hidden in his immediate sigh.

"You know that I can't."
There is an air of finality to his sentence,
and I nod solemnly against the
skin of his chest, unable to make myself
face the sadness that I'm sure is
echoing in his eyes
just as plainly as it is in mine.

Involuntarily, I shiver in the
face of the unknown as his thumb
draws patterns against the soft,
flushed flesh of my shoulder. The
gesture blossoms a strange sense of
comfort in my chest despite my
constricted heart, awakening memories
had in this very same bed all those
years ago, before we knew what it meant
to exist without living.
(Because how can you live when
you feel so incomplete?)

"But no matter where I go,
I will always come back to you. . .
. . .you know that, right?"

Of course, my soul screams but
I can't force my mouth to form the words.
No, instead I lift myself on still-shaky
arms, weak with fatigue and adoration,
and suddenly I find
my whole being soaring, flying within
the galaxies peppered through his
vision, lost in the great expanse of possibilities
that the future still has in store for us.

"Taehyung," my breath kisses him before
my lips do, and the weightlessness that
accompanies the sensation of our hearts
meeting, intertwining once more, has me
tasting what I assume to be the essence of
wholeness, as if this action is linking he and I
together even more strongly than before.
"Distance will never separate us."

—Anonymous request. Poetic Narrative. Can you write a one-shot where Taehyung and the Reader are in love, but aren't dating because he travels so much with BTS? Thanks!

I think the chapter might have come out a bit more sad than you wanted, but I hope you like it! ^~^ Posting this a week before August because I'm feeling generous.