kim taehyung hated sex.
it took him a while. because at first it was just an easy distraction from the struggles of everyday. a break, from the long list of burdens he had upon his shoulders. he guessed he just enjoyed the exhilaration, the haste, the want, and eventually, the need. he began to crave it for a while, it was like a drug, moments of pure bliss and liberty that were certainly not meant to be exploited the young age of seventeen.
maybe that's why he hooked up with girls. taehyung enjoyed doing things that he wasn't allowed to do. he hated playing by the rules, he hated being confined by boundaries and pointless regulations that he apparently had to follow if he wanted to grow into a 'stable, mature man.'
well, his parents simply didn't know him then. taehyung was anything but obedient. in the prison that was his house, yes. he was a golden boy.
but in school?
he couldn't give a shit what anyone thought. he'd live his life in the way he wanted. no restrictions. no goals. no ambitions. taehyung just dealt with life one step at a time. and if that meant that he was impulsive, then so be it. because fuck, it was a good feeling.
taehyung knew that his parents already had his life set out for him.
he'd be a business man, like them. he'd know what it was like to work hard to achieve your aim, he'd know what it was like to earn buckets of money that separated his family from all of the rest who were struggling on fixed incomes and benefits that wouldn't get them through their already dilapidated lifestyle.
he was yet to break it to his folks that he didn't care for money or material wealth or possessions. he just wanted to be happy doing the things that he loved.
but his parents didn’t like that. they'd tolerated him- all those days he got suspended and sent home, or had to get picked up for 'misbehaviour' or 'disruption' and 'damage of school property', or simply a 'deplorable attitude to learning'... they'd tolerated him.
but when taehyung came home with a canvas; a beautifully, vividly illustrated canvas with lustrous, vivacious flowers adorning it in pink and purple and orange celestial hues, blended together harmoniously in a graceful waltz of soft, psychedelic colours; so beautiful that to anyone passing by, would have thought it would have been painted by a professional artist, one he was so, so, so proud and content with; one that he had spent endless lunchtimes and hours before and after school, perfecting...
his parents had ripped it to shreds and called him 'a fag'.
he wasn't angry.
anger would be a weak word to describe what taehyung felt in that very moment.
it was more so... remorse.
he'd stopped painting then. he thought it was fucking pointless; there was nothing that he could do to convince his parents that art was beautiful, it made him happy, elated, joyful. something he hadn't felt in a long time. if doing art made him a 'fag.' then taehyung wasn't so sure he wanted to continue it.
so he stopped painting. and started having sex. but sex in itself, didn’t give him the same feeling.
yes. he had enjoyed sex. but now it just felt like another necessity to fit in to the norm of teenage life; he was fairly certain that eighty percent of the kids in his school had lost their virginity.
jeon jeongguk did not come under that eighty percent.
taehyung wondered what sex was like with someone that you actually loved.
he wondered if if every moment you spent in their arms was like an eternity of bliss, of warmth, of longing... of hope.
there was a certain hope that he spied whenever he looked into the younger's big, brown, doe eyes. there was a certain warmth that he felt when they brushed hands in the lunch queue. there was a certain bliss that he experienced whenever jeongguk let out a small giggle, utterly oblivious to how adorable he was. and there was a certain longing that made his heart clench.
it was weird; it was a strange, foreign feeling that compelled him to get closer to the younger, like he wanted to hold the smaller boy, just to see how it would feel, stroke his soft hair, just to see how it would feel. to pinch his chubby, rose dusted cheeks... to see how it would feel.
kim taehyung would never admit to that of course. he always kept his outershell stoic, unyielding, impenetrable.
but there was just something about the boy infront of him, tiny hands scanning yet another book out, supposedly always lingering in the library on a cold, wet tuesday night, fiddling with the sleeves of his long, oversized sweatshirt that probably came down to his thighs... that made taehyung want to know everything about him.
he couldn't explain it... the feeling was foreign.
but... he liked it.
^jungkook looks like ET in that gif jsjsjksksks