you know what it isssss

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ONE: burns like ice
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"Jeongguk?"

A mere echo, eons away amidst the cries of children begging their parents for knick knacks and toys, the bustle of casual discussion between vendor and victim, and barely a thought—barely anything at all—above the vibrant curiosity coloring Jeongguk's cheeks with rogue as brightly as that of the young ladies around him.

Namjoon's voice struggled to float aloft the commotion, his exasperation watered to mere slurs, fragments of what was intended to become a sentence. A sentence that never quite reached Jeongguk's wandering ears. No, they were far more enticed by the sizzling pops of fried delicacies, street food like none he'd ever tasted.

Of course, this was precisely why Namjoon had so heavily insisted against having Jeongguk accompany him on his "journey"—or so Jeongguk called it—to the marketplace. The thought fled him quickly and alongside it Namjoon's reminder: "Stay right by my side, Jeongguk, and don't you dare even consider leaving it."

Whimsically oblivious, Jeongguk's shoes scuffed against the brick pavers as he shuffled from tables of jewels to tables of fine crafted leathers. It seemed the marketplace had small tidbits of everything from every range of product. He was particularly fascinated with the jewelry.

Sapphire, opal, diamond, and many gems he couldn't even name twinkled in welcome, their smooth, glimmering surfaces just pleading to be scathed by his fingertips. And so Jeongguk complied, gently reaching out to run the pad of his finger over what he thought to be a ruby. He wasn't sure, but it was a beautiful, beautiful gem—whatever it was.

"It's garnet," a woman supplied, drawing Jeongguk from his hypnosis just long enough to bring his attention to the unnecessary quantity of necklaces hanging from her neck. They seemed heavy, bearing large, glaringly wealthy riches.

"It's quite beautiful," Jeongguk's eyes flickered to her face, a hesitant smile secured over his own as if to excuse his blatant staring. She as well allowed her lips to quirk upward into a grin.

"Indeed it is," her fingers tapped rhythmically against the tabletop, tempting Jeongguk's eyes to follow their guidance back down to the garnet stone, "would you like to try it on?"

Jeongguk's brows knit themselves into somewhat of a frown, watching the lady's fingers clasp within themselves the necklace's silver chain. The gem dangled from her index, an invitation.

He made a disgruntled sound, pulling back from where he'd hunched himself over the assortment of trinkets and beauties in what was then vivid interest, "how emasculating. It's a lady's necklace, is it not?"

The woman, with eyes as deeply green as one of the many emeralds decorating her brief establishment, chuckled as though Jeongguk's statement were simply childish rather than true. Her wrist flicked to swing the blaring thing like a grandfather clock's pendulum. Back and forth and back and forth.

"Think of it as money, then, won't you?"

Jeongguk chewed the inside of his cheek, "I suppose so."

A fleeting moment of consideration; the back pocket of his slacks burnt with the reminder that it was just an extension of his elbow away as the vendor's eyes burnt with the fervor of victory. Ever easy to reach, and yet the tendons in his palm twitched with hesitation.

"Jeongguk! Jeongguk, where are you?"

The worry in Namjoon's voice had Jeongguk turning his head to the crowd where his step brother's distinctive crown of ashy blonde hair bobbed and swayed and zig-zagged through clusters of individuals. He'd dismissed the singular rule laid out before their departure.

Jeongguk glanced back to the woman with urgency, an apology in the downturn of his brows; there was sure to be punishment following his deliberate disobedience.

It took nothing more than the distant memory of his father slipping a belt from its loops to send him running off into the depths of the mass, jewels and their possessors left far, far behind as a simple evocation.

Floral perfumes of all varieties billowed from the necks of wealthy women and infiltrated Jeongguk's nostrils as sickly sweet things, ever ravishing but wholly uninviting when multiplied and strengthened. Even that buttery, fried smell of street food drowned beneath it all.

Jeongguk missed the sensation a little, but thought none of it while trying his very best to respectfully push and shove his way down the street. He lost track of just how many times he screeched his sorrys and avoided venomous glowers by ducking.

Namjoon's voice had then become just as imperceptible as before, but Jeongguk scoured his surroundings, keen on something with more coverage than the brims of bonnets and fedoras. It was difficult to see much of anything past the busy movement of heads and feet and distractingly boisterous conversation. There was a sense of hopelessness being a boy lost in a marketplace, however purposefully.

Shoving down the creeping threat of anxiety, that ugly thing inside his throat that told him this was all too overwhelming and he shouldn't have come, Jeongguk wobbled on his tiptoes for an advantage over the crowd. It didn't do much.

Unexpected, a glitch in time, something haphazard caught his eye.

His neck cracked dangerously with the speed in which his head tore to follow the sight. He searched and squinted for it again—and there it was—a pristine, white disturbance in the flood of color. A tent, he gathered upon wandering closer and slipping between two preoccupied vendors.

It was as though he'd entered an entirely new universe simply by stepping off the street, cacophony and all things blaring and bright quite gone to be replaced with eerie calm. There was nothing other than what he had correctly assumed to be a tent and the flap of its entry.

The slip of cloth fluttered and flew in the breeze, exposing snippets of the interior. Not nearly enough to piece together a room.

A step closer.

Jeongguk took hold of the fabric and peeled it away from the tent's makeshift doorway. He wondered if that too belonged to a vendor, if the street had simply run out of space and retired them to a hidden second layer of extraordinaire.

He bent over to survey the contents of the tent through his minuscule window of opportunity—quite literally.

It appeared rather empty, comprised of nothing more than an assortment of wooden cabinetry and a few Persian rugs to cover every inch of exposed flooring. It would've better served its vacant facade if not for the soft sound of shuffling. Jeongguk strained; it sounded like... cards, almost.

"Don't be bashful," a voice cooed, somewhere off to the side and just shy of Jeongguk's vision, "we haven't gotten all too many visitors this afternoon."

Jeongguk barely even thought to process just why his statement might have been true when he further lifted the flap and stepped inside. The slap of it falling in place behind him was final, synonymous with the finale of the voice's shuffling.

"What might your name be?"

Jeongguk startled, attention snapping to face the ominous presence with eyes wide in wonder, confusion. The man was hunched over a little rounded table in the corner, its pairing stool teetering beneath his weight as though seconds away from splintering to pieces. His face was well hidden behind a curtain of raven tresses, but he was awful pale from what Jeongguk could see.

"Um," Jeongguk's fists clenched by his side, "J-Jeongguk. My name is Jeongguk."

The man hummed, flicking at a deck of cards to send one paper slip tumbling to the floor. An ace of hearts.

"Jeongguk, hm?" It was startling when the mystery man finally turned to face him, a forlorn, dusty grey lining his eyes and years weighing them down. He didn't seem old, however, and it befuddled Jeongguk beyond himself. The quivering upturn of his lips was awful peculiar.

He turned himself fully to Jeongguk, legs spread promiscuously over the stool and hands busied with his deck, "m'Yoongi," he slurred, "magician. Might you have heard of me?"

Jeongguk combed through his memory, searching for somewhere he might've seen the name without luck, "I haven't. I'm sorry."

Yoongi didn't seem fazed. In fact, he didn't seem interested in their conversation much at all, positively enraptured by the dirt-specked hand of cards cradled to his hips. Jeongguk wasn't sure what do to, so he settled with observation.

Yoongi had thin, fragile fingers, he noticed. They were marred with wear and tear, thin fragments of white implying what they'd seen and done and how he'd lived, if he'd lived much at all, if he'd lived too much for his own good. It was a blur of possibilities, something blatant though full of open-ended questions.

That seemed to be the trend with Yoongi's being—however much of it Jeongguk had truly witnessed. He gave all the answers while simultaneously hiding them beneath the curiosity of more questions. It built until he was an enigma, a question in and of himself. Maybe it was just that Jeongguk had never seen an individual quite like him before.

The gentle clinking of beads should've signified that there was yet another uninvited presence, but Jeongguk's heart raced with adrenaline either way when another man made himself known.

"Yoongi," he sighed, disappointed though expectant, "you know better than to leave our guests in such a manner."

Yoongi grumbled and turned back to hunch over his table, giving the ace of hearts damned to the floor only a glance before resuming his shuffling. Peculiar, indeed.

The new type of man was much more familiar to Jeongguk, adorned in an onyx three piece suit just as the bustling businessmen that often acquainted his abode. The only stark differences were the messy fashion in which the man styled his nest of brunette hair as well as the multitude of undone buttons carving a pathway down his chest.

He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the trail of bronze, a sharp v shape that just nearly hinted at the rounded form of pecs and the jut of what one could only assume were ribs. It was awful attractive, but the creeping threat of a grin from his peripheral vision had his attention quickly averting to the man's face.

Pushing a stray tendril from his eyes, the man wandered nearer, "Jeongguk," he mused, "correct?"

Jeongguk nodded, a jerky, nervous thing that sent hair flopping over his forehead similarly to the fashion of ears on a rabbit. He didn't bother pushing it away, frozen beneath the man's scrutinization. His eyes, a deep, chocolaty caramel, bore into every aspect of Jeongguk's being, picking him apart till there was nothing left of him.

"Well, Jeongguk," the man teased the vowels on the tip of his tongue, closer than he'd anticipated, "I'm Taehyung. Kim Taehyung."

"Taehyung?" Jeongguk repeated dumbly.

Taehyung purred his delight, tapping a finger beneath Jeongguk's chin to ensure that his eyes remained on his own. It left him feeling naked.

"It sounds much, much better coming from you, gorgeous," he whispered, fierce in his intentions. Abruptly, Jeongguk's face contorted into a frown, unsure of the man's intentions, his implications.

He jerked his head away from the touch to his chin, "don't treat me like a lady."

"But you're just as beautiful as one," something ridiculously near to faux petulance—an instigating reaction to his rejection—laced itself in Taehyung's voice, "in that case, why shouldn't I? They say beautiful things should be rewarded with admiration."

Jeongguk could only hope his embarrassment wasn't as evident as it felt, cheeks burning with surprise and skin undoubtedly burning with scarlet. He'd never been compared to a lady before, let alone considered comparable to a lady. He was a man. Could Taehyung do that?

Jeongguk scowled within himself. Of course he could, he just did.

"A pretty thing like you..." Taehyung's head quirked to the side, evidently oblivious of Jeongguk's turmoil, "I'd say you're more than worth the admiration."

There was a silent tension that lingered in the wake of those words, a loud tension that sent all sorts of different alarms both good and bad and everything in between blaring in Jeongguk's head. His lips fell open to argue but mouthed over air, mute.

When Taehyung traced his cheek with the cusp of his palm, skin barely grazing skin to create an electric static between them, he knew there was no need for words. He'd been stripped bare as it was; what could words provide that his eyes hadn't?

"I would love nothing more than to have the pleasure of getting to know you," Taehyung whispered as though it were a secret, something the rest of the world needn't know, not even Yoongi. The perk of the other's head told Jeongguk he heard either way, and the indifferent fashion in which he turned back to his deck made him wonder if this was a common occurrence.

Taehyung's fingertips scathed the underside of his jaw, coercing, drawing him back to the fiery discordance stretching between their eyes. His question lingered in the air, settling into Jeongguk's skin like dew.

"You're odd," Jeongguk muttered, shying away from the feathery stain of Taehyung's presence in favor of letting his eyes roam down, down down, and settle on the golden divots of his clavicles, "quite, to act in such a manner toward a boy. It's wrong, you know."

Taehyung chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound with the comfort of ocean undertow, "would you be implying you didn't appreciate it?"

Jeongguk's fingers fidgeted with the belt loop of his slacks; he wasn't quite sure how to respond to such a thing. He, as many others, enjoyed his fair share of flattery. But this was vastly dissimilar.

Raven ringlets fell on his forehead in an action he could only hope sheathed the dissension on his face.

"It's wrong," he murmured.

Taehyung's fingertips flirted with the protrusion of his chin, edging his vision steadily upward until eye contact was achieved.

He stepped closer; Jeongguk let him.

"Not unwelcome, though?"

Jeongguk watched the caramel tone of Taehyung's eyes fluctuate between something darker, then something brighter, like amber. Hypnotic were his eyes, and Jeongguk fell to fascination.

"I—" he swallowed down the humiliation of admitting such a horrible, horrible thing, "I suppose not."

Taehyung's lips rose into a gentle smile, one that sent something fluttery, light, ricocheting against the captivity of Jeongguk's ribcage.

It was the sort of smile that spoke louder than any words and inflicted more than any action. The sort of smile that blossomed color in Jeongguk's cheeks. That particular sort of smile that belittled the memory of Namjoon's worry to something trifling, for worry was unnecessary in the presence of such a man, such a smile.

"You see," Taehyung whispered, dipping low enough that the warmth of his breath teased the seam of Jeongguk's lips, "sometimes, admittance is liberating."

"It doesn't feel that way," Jeongguk was petulant in the way he pressed his hand against Taehyung's chest as if to restore his reign on the circumstances. Distance was safer, but the fashion in which Taehyung's finger traced the underside of his wrist, reeling him in, told him otherwise.

"It never feels that way," Taehyung hummed, "but it always is."

Jeongguk winced when the rounded tip of Taehyung's nose graced his own for the slightest of moments, "y-you're so forward. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you know."

Taehyung chuckled, "why must I feel ashamed for providing flattery where flattery is needed? I was almost positive you were enjoying it."

Jeongguk turned away, pressing firmly on Taehyung's sternum, "your perception is warped."

Taehyung moved forward, forward still, until the heat radiating between them sparked and set aflame whatever was possibly left of the air in Jeongguk's lungs, "Is it now?"

"Y-Yes," Jeongguk withheld a gasp; the sudden press of Taehyung's lips to his ear proving hot and heady and just enough to send him grappling for something to hold on to. His search resulted in fistfuls of Taehyung's dress shirt he couldn't bring himself to apologize for.

Taehyung chuckled against his flesh, a burst of hot air that trickled down beneath the iron-pressed collar of Jeongguk's shirt and spread like the plague. His fingers curled within the cotton of Taehyung's clothing, ever conflicted.

"Sweet creature," Taehyung cooed, "you're doing quite a horrid job convincing me."

It was a statement, the way he slurred the words against Jeongguk's cheek through a grin that knew far too much. Jeongguk's mind rattled with nerves, with the knowledge that he was just about as transparent to Taehyung's eyes as glass was to anyone's.

He mustered a frown, "I'm barely trying."

Jeongguk's integrity hung by the mere threads he clasped within his palms. Taehyung's cologne stung his nose all the while.

When he caught the ruddy pink reflection of a man who could only be himself in the curvature of a decorative pot, he wondered if it was the cologne that made his mind woozy enough to see it.

His heartbeat was a rhythm when Taehyung prompted a question, fingertips scathing like fire against his waist: "do you want to?"

"D-do I want to?" Jeongguk blubbered. His mind raced to catch up. A beat passed in which Jeongguk and everything within his head were two separate entities, two separate entities with the weight of decision in the palms of both.

Which was heavier: a question that Jeongguk himself was testing.

The heat of Taehyung's body, his aura, was scorching beneath his hands, a comforting thing like the presence of a hearth. It drew him closer, that warmth, but too close?

Jeongguk winced when the pressure of Taehyung's hand exploring further, delving into the dips and curves and crevices of his physique, became ever present. He touched his waist, his hips, and dragged his fingers against the material of his sweater until it gathered and revealed a mere snippet of the flesh that laid beneath.

He choked on a small, pleading sound when Taehyung's skin met his own in a rush of something extraordinary. Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung; the woodsy luxury of his cologne did nothing to ease the mantra of need urging Jeongguk's head forward to rest in the crook of that strong, melanin neck.

Taehyung's thumbs rubbed circles into his waist, leaving an imprint as prominent as a branding mark. There was something about the fashion in which he dragged his finger that had Jeongguk writhing.

"So sweet for me, darling," Taehyung traced each word into Jeongguk's cheek, hiked the hem of his cashmere sweater upward till it pooled at the navel, "where'd your fight go, hm? Thought you said you didn't enjoy this."

Jeongguk made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat, something to signify his defiance, that he wasn't enjoying himself, but his fists only wound themselves tighter within the fabric of Taehyung's dress shirt. He drew away from the nook of Taehyung's neck as if to prove himself, somehow.

Taehyung chuckled. He knew.

This time when their eyes met, Taehyung's were blazing, hot in a way that had Jeongguk's hair standing on end. They shone caramel in the weak, flickering light provided by a nearby candle, and Jeongguk studied his reflection within the pupils. He looked just as askew as he felt.

Jeongguk flinched when Taehyung tapped at the underside of his chin. His lips curled into a smile, a wider smile.

"Someone's been calling for you, Jeongguk," he whispered, gesturing over his shoulder with a quick jut of his head, "they sound worried."

Namjoon; his lips gaped in recollection. How could he have forgotten Namjoon, how he'd left him to fear for the sake of his little brother's life in the center of a bustling marketplace?

Jeongguk scrambled to put distance between him and Taehyung just as another exasperated screech of "Jeongguk" reverberated throughout the tent. Mind lurching to action, Jeongguk tugged on the trim of his sweater while backing to the tent's entry, a silent question: can I go?

Yoongi waved dismissively, fingers wiggling in his general direction (quite general, he nearly missed), but remained focused on his avid shuffling. It was an art, for sure. Something of curiosity that prodded at the very back of Jeongguk's mind.

His eyes flickered to Taehyung, the man poised and charming as though nothing had ever happened, like the clock had been rewound to merely ten—perhaps fifteen—minutes prior. It was a phenomenon, but the wild dilation of his eyes gave him away, only if you were looking.

Long, lanky fingers crept down his torso to redo the buttons of his dress shirt that Jeongguk had somewhat undone during his hurry to move away. His cheeks burnt a little at the implications of such a thing.

"We're always here, darling—" Jeongguk's gaze morphed into a venomous glare, malleability gone, "—feel free to visit us again, we thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Jeongguk huffed, stretching the pliable fabric of his sweater dangerously low, "don't expect my return, bastard."

Yoongi made some sort of an odd sound while Taehyung smirked, tonguing at the edges of his canines contemplatively. He seemed nowhere near affected. Jeongguk frowned, it was quite unfair, their differences.

"I'll look forward to it either way," Taehyung mused, thumbing at the third highest button on his shirt, "I still have much to learn about you, Jeongguk, it would be a shame to leave without the pleasure."

Yoongi turned to give him a sideways glance, cocking a brow. The rhythmic slap of cards against cards prevailed through the silence.

"Don't count on it," Jeongguk repeated, "I-I'm quite busy."

Taehyung chuckled and turned to an alcohol cabinet, prying open the antique wooden doors with little finesse while making use of his other hand to shoo the younger of them away, "run off, little one," he said, "your friend is creating a racket outside, I suggest you settle him."

While walking back to the estate, Jeongguk tried to think past the lodge in his mind that wanted nothing more than to run back and learn everything he could about the peculiar duo. There was something about them, how different they were, that inevitably drew him in.

His knowledge of people was limited only to the likes of businessmen with taut faces and clean clothes and none of the personality—not even half—of that of Taehyung. Not a fraction of the mystery Yoongi possessed without even a single spoken word. Their ambience alone drew questions, prompted curiosity.

Jeongguk thought about the matter a little too much on his journey back home, accompanied only by a congesting tension and a fuming Namjoon. He hadn't muttered a word since finding him, furious beyond the need for physical or verbal expression.

Jeongguk didn't quite know what that meant for him, nor what it implied regarding the extremities of his discipline.

His thoughts couldn't help but break off from those of Taehyung to something more familiar: leather belts, the crack of such a thing against his flesh, the blossoms of pain. He knew something like that, if not worse, was yet to come.

Deliberate disobedience was something Jeongguk tried his very best to stray away from, but it always seemed to reel him back.

The car rumbled its displeasures beneath their feet, and Jeongguk couldn't have wished any more to do the same when he glanced toward Namjoon and saw the degree of anger ensnaring his irises.

He held his arms tighter over his chest and tried, very hard, to melt into the leather seat.

Despite what was undoubtedly to come, visions of Taehyung stained his retinas and he worried that his father would never again let him go to the marketplace. The looming spirals mounting their estate when they finally pulled into the driveway told him there was truly only one way to find the answer.

A/N
so. this is a thing and i will NOT be changing it again, i promise. i missed the original, what can i say 💔 she just gets a reboot.