TAEHYUNG'S POV
I'm the type of person to laugh at funerals. I can't take serious things seriously, and the grave things are somehow funny, in the oddest way. One of my worst nightmares is laughing by accident when delivering bad news to a patient's family, but luckily, I haven't done that yet. So far, in my shortlived time as a surgical intern, the Code Black is the gravest situation I've been in, and it's honestly just a matter of time until I instinctually do something terribly inappropriate.
"Holy shit." I breathe out, entering the on call room, hoping to be alone so that I can get all my sociopathic giggling out. We just finished evacuating the surgical wing of the hospital, as it's the only wing at risk, and Dr. Jeon just went to tell the surgical team operating on the man with the bomb in him that there is, in fact, a bomb in him. Thank God it's not me, I'd definitely let a chuckle slip.
"You can say that again." A voice says from the other side of the room, and I jump. As soon as I register who the source of the voice is, I wrinkle my nose in distaste. Min Yoongi. My archnemesis. Or...is he? Lately, the line between hatred and just plain unresolved sexual tension has been extremely blurred. He's clearly repressed, anyone who once was repressed would know. Internalized homophobia is a tough one to get through, but if Yoongi's attitude towards me is any testimate to his progress, maybe he's winning his inner battles.
"Oh, it's you." I deadpan, trying to sound bitter. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a little fun to bicker with him. "No wonder you were in here while we were evacuating people. Hiding from your responsibilities." He scoffs from where he lays on the uncomfortable mattress, his hands behind his head. He still has the hint of a smile on his face, anyway. "You've got to learn to be a doer, Yoongi."
As soon as the words roll off my lips, I realize something. Maybe I should take my own advice. Here I've been, letting feelings for Min Yoongi, of all people, accumulate inside my chest. Letting him go on about his life in his repression. I know I'm right about this, and I don't want to pressure him, but I needed a little push when I was in his shoes. I needed someone to tell me they'd be there for me when I came out...maybe Yoongi needs that person, too.
"Dude, I'll be a doer later. It's like the apocalypse out there." Yoongi's deep voice snaps me out of my reverie. He's handsome, I note, in the dim light of the on call room. His bone structure casts shadows into the hollows of his cheeks, his jawline. His pretty dark eyes are full of humor despite my teasing.
"Yoongi." I exhale breathlessly, yearning for him all of a sudden. This may or may not be my inability to properly react to scary situations showing, but I don't care. As much as I hate to admit it, I like Yoongi.
"It's true. I mean, look around. Half the people who are supposed to be saving lives have ditched their patients to save themselves." Yoongi continues, not even glancing at me.
"Yoongi." I repeat his name once more, to no avail.
"We get the blessing of being on someone other than Dr. Jeon's service, only for all surgeries to get cancelled because some dipshit and his friend were playing with glorified Nerf Guns at the ripe age of forty. I thought we were getting a perfect, uninterrupted day without Dr. Jeon, but, no."
"Yoongi."
"Not to mention that Jimin and Bong Bong are the ones who got the cool surgery--I mean, he might explode in their faces, but still. If I have to be here, I'd rather be doing something more interesting than popping some punk ass kid's knee back into his socket--"
"Yoongi, I--"
"Listen, Tae, I'm just saying it's a morgue waiting to happen in here. People should get while the getting's good, because there might not be a tomorrow--"
"Yoongi!" I finally shout. This gets his attention, and he looks up at me from the spot on the ceiling he's staring at. Confusion is on his face, and he looks like he's about to scold me for yelling.
"What?" He asks, putting in an effort to tone down his irritation. This, I appreciate, because if he had a more violent reaction, I would have lost my nerve for what I'm about to do. I calmly begin to take off my shirt. "Tae, what are you...?" Yoongi trails off, but stops when he sees the tan skin of my chest. The confusion in his eyes shifts to something deeper, darker--lust? Lust, but mixed with inhibitions.
"I'm getting while the getting's good." i inform him, tossing my shirt aside. "You never look right at me when we change in the locker room." I state, refusing to break eye contact with him. As if the mention of it reminds him to avert his eyes, he does, but I walk over to him with wide strides, exhibiting more confidence than I truly feel. I kneel down to his level where he lays, and gently tilt his chin towards me with my fingertips. "I have a feeling it's not just to respect my privacy, Yoongi."
"You notice that?" He asks quietly, and I manage a small smile, nodding.
"Yeah. I notice most things you do, Yoongi." I admit. I'm not the vulnerable type. My sass and charm normally get me where I need to go, so I rarely ever need to share how I truly feel. Something about Yoongi tells me that this is different.
"Why me?" He asks. "Don't you hate me? I hate you, you know that." That last part sounds more directed at himself than me, as if he's trying to convince himself that it's true.
"Do you really, though?" I ask, my fingers gently caressing his jawline, testing the waters, finding his boundaries. "Because I don't hate you. I never have." I say, and Yoongi lets out a humorless laugh. Now that I've gotten him to look at me, he can't seem to take his eyes off me, and his gaze on me makes me squirm.
"Why? I'm such a dick to you. You should hate me." He says. Something about his tone tells me that this is just Yoongi's way of begging me to hate him. His way of saying that he doesn't like himself. His way of pushing me away. I won't let him this time, though. He needs to know that people will be there for him once he truly lets himself out.
"I don't hate you because I know you don't mean what you say, Yoongi." I say, and he opens his mouth to speak, only to shut it at a loss for words. "Listen. I've been you. I've been scared and confused."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Yoongi says, but there's a waver in his voice. I let my hand cup his cheek now, gently but firmly.
"You do, and that's okay. You can trust me. I won't say a word, and I'll shut up and leave you alone if you want me to, but...can I just say one more thing?" I murmur, and he nods. I can see tears gathering in his eyes. "I used to hate myself for being gay, too."
"Really? You?" Yoongi asks, as if in disbelief.
"Yeah." I nod.
"But, you...you're so...proud?" He counters, and I smile a little at him.
"I wasn't always. Accepting myself came with time. But, once you learn to understand that there's nothing wrong with who you are, once you accept yourself...I need you to know that there are people waiting to accept you, too." I stammer, struggling to find the right words.
"What about the people that won't accept me?" He asks, his voice shaky with tears and on the verge of breaking. I frown at how scared he looks, feel my heart break a little for him, remembering that awful feeling.
"Then they don't deserve you." I say softly, and I hear his breath hitch as a tear makes it's way down his cheek. I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, humming softly to him.
"Taehyung?" He asks after a moment, his voice much firmer than before.
"Hm?" I reply.
"Kiss me." He states. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn't falter. In face, he sits up on the bed, holding my hand to his cheek when I go to pull it away.
"Yoongi, are you sure? You know I don't mean to pressure you right? And all that shit that I said about being a doer was just to mess with you, I know it was just a metaphor when you said this was the apocalypse so you really don't need to--" I ramble nervously. Yoongi shakes his head firmly, and all of the inhibitions in his eyes are gone.
"Taehyung, I just came out to you. You're the first person who's ever known who I really am. Fuck, I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you. This is me being a doer. It's my turn to get while the getting's good, so do you want to sit here and talk metaphors or do you want to kiss me?" Yoongi exclaims, clearly frustrated but still smiling. It's probably the hottest thing anyone's ever said to me.
"Say less." I sigh, and like that, I lean in and connect our lips. His are plump and soft beneath my own, and the breathy noise he releases just short of a moan sends a euphoric shiver up my spine. He isn't as cautious as I thought he woud be, proof that he has been wanting this. His lithe fingers tug at my hair needily. He lets me push him backwards onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow. The position is provocative, but neither of us are ready for that, and we both know that. "Hey, hold on--" I pull back quickly, breathlessly. Yoongi's pupils are blown and his lips are swollen, but for once, he's really truly smiling. I realize that this is what freedom looks like. "Are you sure this is okay?"
"Tae, this is more than okay."
oooo hi everyone, this is just a small filler before we get back to our girl bong bong but i hope u liked it!!! hope everyone is safe, happy n healthy!
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