Yoongi really is a stupid motherfucker.

Why on earth would he allow himself to be taken out on a date by his nurse? Why would he enjoy it? Why would he blabber on about his personal issues? Why does he care so much? And why, for the love of anything, would he agree to let Taehyung give him a massage?

A massage. As in hands on skin.

In what universe is this a good idea?

Sure, it had hurt like a bitch to land on that patch of grass after their race— no matter how breathless and giddy he had felt at the time— but was this really necessary?

Even worse than hitting the ground had been the way Yoongi found himself lying on the grass with Taehyung hovering over him, smelling like cologne and looking like he was plucked right out of the sky just to occupy the dark expanse of Yoongi's universe like a bright celestial star with a boxy grin.

He can no longer deny it now. Taehyung is handsome and thoughtful, sweet and insightful. He's managed to befriend Yoongi— a near impossible task if you ask some people— and yet Yoongi feels it—

This foreknowledge that if he isn't careful, this friendship will continue to grow, blossoming into something that others would find beautiful, but that Yoongi knows is as sharp as thorns. There's no way the nurse would ever want him, and yet—

They're back at the apartment after the "date", Taehyung having excused himself to get changed into something more comfortable while Yoongi just sits in his room, asking himself how exactly he got to this point. He was supposed to be at his date's home right now, probably getting ready to be intimate for the first time in years but he's not.

So why is he still nervous? Why can't he do what needs to be done and tell Taehyung that he doesn't want to explore this strange, ever-growing thing that's happening between them? Why, despite the fact that he's so starved for affection, can he not do what is in his best interest and turn away?

It would be so easy....

"Do you have any massage oil?"

Taehyung is standing in the doorway now, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. Yoongi isn't used to seeing his caretaker like this; the nurse is almost always dressed up or in his usual scrubs, not looking like he's about to have a sleepover.

Yoongi swallows hard. "Uh, I think Jimin might have some in the bathroom cabinet."

Humming, Taehyung goes to retrieve the oil and Yoongi tries to knock some sense into himself. It's just a massage to help his back, that's it. Taehyung is a medical professional, he's probably done this hundreds of times. It won't be weird. Everything is exactly the same as it was, except it isn't.

Taehyung had come to his rescue, told him he deserved better, and showed him how he deserved better. They had a nice dinner, flirted a little, then went on a walk in the park. They shared feelings, dropped formalities between them, and had fun.

Fun.

Yoongi hasn't smiled like this in such a long time. He hasn't felt like this in a long time.

When the nurse finally comes out of the bathroom, his face is flushed with embarrassment. "So I found the oil, but it's for... sensuous massages. It's, uh, flavored."

Shit, Yoongi forgot that Jimin was a kinky little bastard. "Uh, that's Jimin's," he clarifies quickly. "He uses it for work."

At this, Taehyung arches a brow.

Wow, that sounded terrible, even to Yoongi, so he fumbles for a better explanation. "Jimin is a— He works for a—" Yoongi shuts his mouth. He's making it way worse than it really is.

Chuckling, Taehyung waves his hands around dismissively. "I'm not here to judge, so you don't have to tell me."

"He's a phone sex operator," Yoongi blurts out, his face on fire. He watches as the nurse just gapes at the tiny bottle of oil in his hands. "He, uh, uses that to get in the mood for certain calls." And now Taehyung intends to use the oil on him. He swallows hard at the thought.

"We don't have to use this if you don't want to. I can still help your back without it."

"It's fine." Yoongi feels like his brain isn't even helping regulate his speech now because he has no idea where that came from. Maybe from the same place that is conjuring up all sorts of thoughts about Taehyung's large hands covered in tingling, flavored oil. "It's just to help my back, right? So it's fine."

The nurse bobs his head. "Right."

Soon, everything falls back into silence as Taehyung helps him out of the chair and sets him on the bed. He tells Yoongi that his shirt needs to be off for the massage and once his upper torso is bare, the nurse lays his patient gently down on his stomach.

Yoongi can hear the sheets rustle as Taehyung settles in behind him and uncaps the bottle. He squeezes his eyes closed as he rests his head on his arms and inhales the sweet spicy scent of the oil.

It's just a massage, just a massage, just a massage—

The first touch of Taehyung's warm, slick hands on his bare skin has Yoongi bucking up into the sensation. He quickly composes himself and stares at the wall in shock as the nurse works over his taut muscles deftly.

"Where does it hurt, hyung?"

"In the middle— no, to the left a little— oh god... yes." The moment the word leave his mouth, Yoongi wants to regret it, he really does. But it's difficult when strong, firm hands are kneading into parts of him that stay constricted because he spends a lot of time his chair. It's difficult when he whimpers and Taehyung asks "does that feel good?" It's difficult because Yoongi's heart rate is picking up, the smell of the oil is wafting around him, and it feels so damn good.

Taehyung feels so damn good.

"Hyung, about what I said at the restaurant... I'm sorry if it was inappropriate."

Yoongi feels like he's melting into the mattress. "What?" he slurs.

"You know, when we're talking about... sex."

That's right, Taehyung told him what kind of sex he deserved, described to him what he needed.

Yoongi groans at the nurse's hands rubbing into his back but then quickly catches himself, clearing his throat. "It wasn't inappropriate. You were just being honest."

"No, I should have—"

"Taehyung... it's been a while for you too, huh?"

Yoongi silently curses himself for adding the "too". He figures that his nurse already knows, seeing as how Yoongi set up a date just to get a fuck, but somehow this slip of the tongue feels wrong. He doesn't want Taehyung to think of him like this— pathetic, needy, and willing to debase himself just for affection.

But he had already been caught in the act, hadn't he? Taehyung isn't stupid.

The nurse audibly swallows. "Yeah, it has. My girlfriend— She was my first."

Yoongi is silent for a moment, deliberating his reply. Finally, he settles on, "How long ago did she pass away?"

"Three years ago."

"So it's been—" he stops himself. What is he doing? This is such an unprofessional question. He shouldn't be asking his nurse about his sex life.

Taehyung makes a sound like he's trying to suck in a breath. "Well, she was really weak from the treatment, so we really couldn't—"

"Right, that makes sense, I guess." Yoongi hates himself in this moment for even bringing it up.

"But I've wanted to since then," the nurse confesses softly. His hands are pressing deep into his patient's back, smoothing over the muscles rippling beneath the skin. "I just feel, guilty, you know? Like I'm somehow betraying her."

Yoongi doesn't know what to say to this. What could he say? It makes sense, that Taehyung would still be in love with her, that he wouldn't feel right about moving on when he hadn't gotten any closure. But it's different, Yoongi wants to argue. It's different when that person is gone, because you could never have them, even if you saved yourself for them all your life— it wouldn't matter.

It's not like his situation; it's not how he feels about—

"Jimin," he breathes out. Taehyung stills his hands.

"What?"

Yoongi frowns at his urge to confess. "My first love, the guy who made me realize I was gay was... Jimin."

"Oh." The nurse sounds surprised.

"We grew up together, but our parents were friends before we were even born. Our fathers are business partners," Yoongi explains before taking a heavy breath. "Of course, even though we spent so much time together, he could never love me back the way I wanted him to, because he's into girls, but I understand what you mean. I waited for him for a long time, thinking that maybe he would change his mind. Eventually, I had to move on though."

Taehyung is no longer massaging his patient. His hands have gone completely still and he's just looming above Yoongi.

"So you think I should move on? Just let it go?"

"No, no," Yoongi refutes, staring at the headboard of the bed. "I'm just saying that at some point you realize that's it's pointless to wait."

"Pointless?"

Fuck, he's terrible with words. He's not trying to make the nurse feel bad. He's just not good at this comforting thing...

"Well, as much as it hurts to admit, some things aren't meant to be," Yoongi tries to explain. "You have to let them go, not just for you, but for them. If— If she was still here, but you couldn't be together for whatever reason, don't you think she would want you both to be happy? Wouldn't you both deserve that much?" He feels weird saying something so deep and personal while he can't even see Taehyung, but perhaps it's for the best. He's bravest this way.

"Would you be happy if Jimin was with someone else?" the nurse asks and the question hits like a blow to the gut but Yoongi is good at feigning acceptance.

"He has been before. I survived."

"What if it was another guy?"

Yoongi tenses. He never thought about it before, having never even been a possibility, but what would he do? The clenching of his heart speaks for itself.

"See," Taehyung begins, "it's not so easy."

"It's different for you though. She's gone." Yoongi should regret his words, but it's the truth. What use is sparing the nurse's feelings, especially when they are already hurt by this harsh reality?

Taehyung doesn't seem offended by this though. He just sighs deeply. "She told me to move on. She was dying and she looked right at me and told me to move on after she left, but I can't."

Yoongi chooses to remain silent, letting the younger man work through his feelings.

"I just feel so guilty for looking at someone the way I looked at her, you know? Like I have no right to be happy, to feel the way I do," Taehyung laments.

"Who?" Yoongi chances to ask. He finds that he's morbidly curious. "Who have you looked at like that?"

Is it Namjoon? Another girl? Was there someone in the nurse's life before he took this job?

Taehyung doesn't answer, he merely hums and his hands return to massaging Yoongi's back, the oil melting into the texture of his skin and producing a wonderful glide. Yoongi tries not care that his question goes unanswered. He thinks he may know the reason why.

They spend awhile like that, in silent acceptance of this strange thing between them, fragile like glass, yet not as transparent. Yoongi realizes it may never be, if they both have deep-rooted issues that need to be addressed. This would never work, even if Taehyung wanted him, even if Yoongi was emotionally stable enough to let the other in.

But Taehyung doesn't want him, much like Jimin doesn't want him. It's just another sad fact of life.

"Hyung, your back must be as sensitive as your neck."

Lost in his thoughts, Yoongi is nearly overcome with drowsiness. "Oh?" he murmurs, face resting against his forearms.

"You keep moaning."

Yoongi flushes crimson at this, realizing that he had lost control of his noises while he was in deep thought. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's ok, I don't mind," the nurse assures.

He doesn't mind.

Taehyung giggles.

Yoongi pouts. "What's so funny?"

"You've got these cute little dimples right above your butt," the nurse explains, rubbing said dimples with his thumbs, right above the waistband of his jeans.

Yoongi sputters. "S-Shut up."

"No, hyung. They're cute! And I've told you this before, but your skin is so soft. You feel so good beneath my hands..." That honey voice has dropped low and Yoongi is choking on the intention in its tone.

This couldn't be...

They barely knew each other.

Taehyung doesn't want him.

Right?

"Tae," Yoongi breathes, hissing between his teeth as the nurse kneads his muscles, drags his fingers reverently along the flesh. He can feel it, the gentleness in Taehyung's touch, the care with which he handles Yoongi.

"Hyung, you're so.... beautiful." The nurse's voice has dropped another octave, smooth like silk and heady when mixed with the fragrant musk of the massage oil.

It's late and the night has faded into that pleasant hour when things seem a little more potent, colors and lights that much more intense. There's no expectations for the day or anywhere to be, and time slows to a rich, thick molasses, every palpable second stark against the usual rush of daylight hours.

He understand where Taehyung's head is at. He understands because this hour is usually when he calls Jimin, needy for attention that he can never truly have.

"Mistakes are made after midnight", that's what his mother used to tell him when Yoongi was sitting at home on a Saturday night while all of his high school classmates were out up to no good.

It's true, because Yoongi used to make a lot of mistakes after midnight, used to smother his pain with cheap drugs, alcohol, and warm bodies. He knew they were mistakes, but he never cared in the moment.

"Do you want me to stop?" the nurse asks, voice breathy. His hands are even firmer against his patient's back.

Yoongi should stop them. It's after midnight, after all.

"What exactly are we stopping?"

In lieu of a reply, Yoongi feels the feather light brush of lips along his spine, causing him to suck in a stuttering breath.

Was this really happening? Could he really let this happen? Taehyung is his employee, Yoongi is his boss—

Softly, Taehyung presses a kiss to the back of Yoongi's neck, letting his mouth linger there for a few heartbeats. His breath is hot and humid against Yoongi's flesh; a shiver ripples through his body.

"Hyung, I—"

"Don't... speak. Tae, just—"

Talking will ruin this, will take them out of this fragile bubble.

Before Yoongi can even blink, he's being turned around onto his back and the nurse is staring down at him with wide eyes. His chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm and Yoongi instantly hates how composed the other man is. It's not fair that he feels so unraveled while Taehyung is perfectly fine—

Except, he's not.

The nurse's eyes are dilated; there's a light sheen of sweat on his brow beneath his bleached fringe. He has propped himself over Yoongi with both arms, but they're shaking and Yoongi knows that it has nothing to do with his strength.

"Taehyung, we shouldn't," he whispers, the informal language slipping out of his mouth. It's so late, everything is so hazy that even his curious mix of satoori is leaking into his words.

"Yeah, we shouldn't," Taehyung agrees, but those eyes tell a different story.

The nurse leans closer; Yoongi can feel his breath fan out over his face, can breathe in their shared air if he wants, can cross that divide with just a tilt of his head.

He doesn't.

"It would complicate things," Yoongi argues, though he doesn't mean a damn thing he's saying. He's had his fair share of complications and Taehyung would be a glorious one. "Besides, you would feel guilty afterwards because of your.... girlfriend..."

The nurse laughs at this, a dark little sound, and then he's shaking his head. "Don't you see, hyung? I already feel guilty. I feel guilty because I want you and I shouldn't. I think I've wanted you for awhile now."

Yoongi is bewildered. They haven't even known each other that long. "How?" he asks; his lips quiver.

"It's hard to explain, but the moment I first saw your face, I felt it." Taehyung looks pained when he says it, like it physically hurts to admit.

"Is that why you ruined my floor and wasted good wine?" Yoongi fires back, trying to ease the tension.

Panicked, the nurse crinkles his brows together and pouts. "I said I was sorry, hyung!"

"Taehyung, calm down," Yoongi insists, trying to do the same. "Shit, I was teasing you."

Silence stretches between them like it had during so many other moments throughout the night and then Yoongi finally plucks up the courage to break it.

"We can't do this, Taehyung."

"Then what can we do, hyung?"

The question is innocent, a direct reply, but it's laced with so much innuendo. The nurse is hovering directly above him and it feels like the space between them is diminishing with every second.

"We can't kiss like this. It would be... too much." It would be too intimate, Yoongi wants to say. I could get hurt. You don't even know what you're doing.

Taehyung arches a brow. "Then what about like this?"

Then the nurse is dipping down to press his lips right above Yoongi's navel, breathing out shortly afterwards, right against the skin. Yoongi feels his upper body arch at the contact, a soft whine falling from his mouth in shock.

They should stop.

Mistakes are made after midnight. They aren't ready for this. Is Taehyung even really gay? What the hell are they thinking?

"Yes," Yoongi finds his traitorous mouth saying instead. "Yes, yes..."

And then the nurse is kissing him more, on his sensitive neck, down his stomach, in the divots of his pelvis. Yoongi feels it all, keens with every press of warm lips slick with oil. His skin is on fire, his mind firing off chaotic signals at an alarming rate. Yoongi doesn't know what to feel, how to control his breathing, how to wrap his mind around what's occurring.

All he knows is that he feels so damn good.

Taehyung is making him feel so damn good.

"T-Tae, shit, I—"

Taehyung pulls back to cup his patient's face. The softness in his eyes is mesmerizing; it's as if all of Yoongi's fears and concerns about his life, his body, his emotions, are all just matter sucked into those deep dark pools and all that's left is a sense of serenity, of being alive once more.

It's feels so good— the thrum of his heart in a body that he didn't think anyone could ever want.

—————-

His lips are swollen and warm against Yoongi, this man he's come to feel affected by.

Taehyung is aware of the late hour, of the culmination of the long day and it's strange events. He's confessed so much about himself in such a short time and he had felt so guilty for doing so, that is, until he touched Yoongi.

Really touched him.

And yes, it's been a long time since Taehyung has felt this kind of affection, but he can't blame his feelings solely on a sexual dry spell. Even though his patient looks a lot like his first love, he can't even blame it on that coincidence either.

Because listening to Yoongi in the park, watching him unravel himself just for the nurse to see, was too potent to ignore. Everything had changed, Taehyung finally saw the man for who he really was, and what he saw, he really liked despite the fact that he too, was a man.

Some things aren't meant to have an explanation; some things are too great to be bogged down by society's ever-changing rules. He understands what his patient was trying to explain that day, how sometimes feelings transcend these boundaries and they adapt to make room for new kinds of love, of attraction.

And without a doubt, Taehyung can now admit that he's attracted to Yoongi.

Yoongi, for all his flaws and shortcomings, is real person. And that's such a weird thing to harp on, but Taehyung's relationship with Yoonji up until her diagnosis had always felt a little too surreal.

Once they had started dating, it was like living in a dream, waking everyday to find someone had your heart in their hands and they never dared to squeeze it. Yoonji was perfect in a way that most people aren't— she was studious, ambitious, considerate, and positive. Never once did he hear her complain before she had fallen ill, and every first with her felt like being baptized in a joy so pure, Taehyung was sure that he would be considered holy for the rest of his life.

But cancer had changed her much like it had diseased her body.

On the other hand, Yoongi was just born this way, shaped even further by his upbringing and the trauma of failing his father's expectations. Even Namjoon couldn't even seem to explain why Yoongi had been so self-destructive prior to his accident, why he chose such things to remedy his insecurities rather than merely working to prove his father wrong or take a separate path to secure his own future.

The nurse has never known someone so inherently human and he feels himself attracted to that. Because just like Yoongi, Taehyung is no saint.

There were days that he resented Yoonji, cursed her for leaving him. In his rage, he had wished ill upon her family, told her father to fuck off when he had ran into him in town. Told the man that he never deserved his daughter anyway, and that's why she was gone. He had gone back to those same damn train tracks several times and just wished for everything to end as he wept on the raised cold metal.

But he never told anyone these things.

He couldn't.

He had to be strong.

Yoongi never tried to be and what a curious idea that is to Taehyung.

He wonders now, how he had ever hoped to avoid wanting the other man, why he thought it was a good idea to stay when he should've walked away the moment he saw Yoongi playing the piano with his heart bleeding out onto the keys.

He knows why now, because of this moment.

He could nearly weep at the feeling of Yoongi quivering beneath his mouth. The elder is gasping for air under the assault of lips. Yoongi has his hands wound in Taehyung's hair, those long fingers pulling gently, skittering against his scalp, and Taehyung—

Taehyung tastes, feels Yoongi under his tongue as he licks along the man's neck, suckles the area right above his fluttering pulse. His patient grips the hair in his hold tighter and stammers out a moan from deep within his chest. Goosebumps erupt across his pale skin. His feline eyes flutter shut.

Taehyung has always been passionate during sex, likens it to his old hobby of painting. Back then, he was young and curious and he loved Yoonji in a way that had felt like a excited splattering of color across canvas.

Now, as a true adult, Taehyung appreciates the craft more, misses the strokes of his brush, but now he has his tongue sweeping along Yoongi's perfect body. He tastes salt on his skin, faint traces of soap, and that heady cologne. The flavored oil that causes something to clench deep within his gut, urging him to keep going, to give Yoongi something that he has been denied for so long.

So he listens for every little whimper, every sucked-in breath and curse hissed through grit teeth. His fingers trail across Yoongi's skin, searching for places that make the other insane and wild with want.

Yoongi deserves to be touched like this, touched in a way that means something to him.

"Tell me where," Taehyung breathes out, curled over the elder, kissing anything his lips can reach. He wants more, but he understands why they can't—

Neither of them want to admit that this bond they have forged is possibly the most fragile part of themselves. The nurse will eventually have to leave and Yoongi could change his mind at any moment. Or Taehyung could realize that this is too impulsive, fabricated out of a desperate loneliness; Yoongi could leave in much the same what that Yoonji did. In a way, they have both experienced loss, and the after-effects are like ghosts in the night, always haunting them.

So they shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't dare to make this too personal, so they don't.

For tonight, Yoongi needs and Taehyung just wants to give.

And give he does.

"Taehyung, please—"

"Tell me where."

Yoongi sucks in a breath and then he's pushing the nurse's head down, down, down, until his face is hovering over the slight cut of Yoongi's pelvis, right above the waistband of his pants.

Dipping down, Taehyung kisses his hip bones, jutting up due to his slight frame. His patient gasps at that and sweet curses fall from his lips, encouraging the nurse to taste further. He does, unbuttoning the jeans and pushing them out of the way, but once he moves down the line of Yoongi's thighs, the elder stops him with a harsh tug.

When Taehyung glances up, Yoongi is staring at the ceiling, mouth agape in horror. "I can't feel that."

"That's ok, I'll just—"

"No, it doesn't matter. I'm just so— so fucking useless!" Yoongi practically shouts, face turning red with frustration. "Get off me."

Startled, Taehyung tries to soothe the other."Hyung, it's ok—"

"Get off me!"

The nurse recoils back onto his knees, staring down at his patient who is covering his face with his hands, body shaking in rage. He hates seeing Yoongi regress like this, like their earlier conversations meant nothing, like his giddy laughs and gummy smile in the park weren't real. He refuses to let this night end the same way it had begun, so he crawls up the bed and gently pulls Yoongi's hands away from his face.

"I said get off—"

"Yoongi." The informality stuns his patient long enough for Taehyung to get some words in. "Don't do this. Please. You've been running away from everything for so long. I know it's scary. Trust me, this is completely new for me and I'm not sure what I'm even doing, but please, don't shut me out. I want to know you."

Laughing darkly, Yoongi pulls his hands away from the nurse. "Why? Why the fuck would anyone want me like this? How are you not disgusted by me?"

In his chest, Taehyung's heart constricts painfully at the words. "Why would anyone ever be disgusted by something that's not your fault? That's ridiculous—"

"But it is my fault!" Yoongi shouts. "I did this to myself! I wanted to fucking die!"

"So did I!" Taehyung retorts back, pulling Yoongi's face over to look at him again. "You're not ashamed of your body, Yoongi. You're ashamed of why you're like this. Because I've been with you every day for almost two weeks and I can tell you one thing— you're a lot of things, but you're sure as hell not ashamed of yourself as a person. But that accident, knowing you were willing to risk everything... it must be eating you up inside."

"And you think you know this because what? You feel the same way? Are you not angry about her death? Can I not be upset over the fact that the fucking accident even happened?"

Taehyung frowns. "Of course I'm angry about her death, but I'm even angrier at myself for spending her last days resenting her!" He runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, Yoongi watching him with disdain. "I hated watching her die. I hated knowing I was going to be alone. I hated her for not standing up to her parents for me. I hate every moment I spent in that damn hospital, but you know what hurts worse than that? That it didn't have to be that way and that's why I know you feel worse about what led to the accident rather than your legs. Because all they are is just reminder of something that could've been different."

"I fucking hate you," Yoongi spits and the acid in his words burns. It burns so badly and the nurse can feel tears sting his eyes.

It can't end like this.

"Hyung, don't do this."

"I can do whatever I fucking want, Taehyung, because it's my choice!"

Taehyung resists the urge to scream out his frustration."I'm not trying to take away your freedom, Yoongi!"

"Then what are you trying to do? Love me?"

"Even if I said yes, would it change anything? Would it make you stop seeing me as a reminder of what could be different?"

"No," Yoongi replies, clenching his jaw. His eyes are dark and unforgiving, cold and devoid of the magic that Taehyung fell for earlier in the night.

The nurse swallows hard and sits back on the bed. "Exactly."

They're breathless for a few moments, panting with rage, red-faced.

How did things get this way?

Taehyung had been so determined to make Yoongi's night better; he had wanted to prove to the elder that he wasn't a waste of time, that he could be there for him. But here they were spiraling back into old habits. When would they learn not to push each other so violently? What was it about their personalities that had them clashing so?

"Hyung, I'm sorry..." Taehyung whispers, watching his patient rub his temples and curse. "I just wanted—"

"I'm not an experiment," Yoongi lashes out. "You don't get to fuck around with me just to figure your shit out. What do you like about me anyway, huh? You like that I'm lonely enough to let you do this? That I can't run away?"

"Yoongi, where is this coming from? I never said anything like that!"

"Don't fucking talk down to me."

"I'm not meaning to, I just don't understand why we're always doing this back and forth thing. I thought we were past that."

"You know what I don't understand?" Yoongi blows up, pointing his finger in the nurse's face. "Why no one thinks I'm allowed to have mood swings or tantrums? Everyone else can have their bad days, but not Min Yoongi. Cripples having bad days are somehow worse, right? Means we don't appreciate just being alive and are about to do something crazy. You know what? Sometimes I just really fucking hate myself and that's just how it is."

Taehyung sucks in a deep breath and just stares down at his enraged patient. He supposes that in weird, twisted way, Yoongi has a point.

He's had many patients with anxiety, depression, paranoia— you name it, and Taehyung has always been careful to leave them to work out there issues. Hell, even he has bad days, and on those days he treats himself carefully, knows the things to do— not to fix the problem, but to alleviate the pain, much like a chronic disease.

Yet he had been constantly forcing himself on Yoongi, trying to get him to open up, to accept him. He had never realized how painful it must be for the elder, who apparently has only ever allowed Jimin to handle him so completely.

But despite this, Taehyung knows that Yoongi is also to blame. Yoongi, who never vocalizes his wants or needs until they're spilling from his mouth in rage. Yoongi, who seems to reconsider his every action and backtrack on it moments later, expecting the other party to just deal with it. This is one of those occasions, Taehyung is sure of it.

With a deep sigh, the nurse runs his hands through his hair and rises from the bed. He retrieves a warm, wet cloth from the bathroom and offers it to Yoongi who is staring up at him.

"This is for the oil," he explains, then, "Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

It's cryptic and vague and Taehyung isn't really sure exactly what he means when he says it, just that he's handing over the reigns of whatever this is over to the more vulnerable party. Yoongi just blinks at him with wide eyes, his chest still heaving from yelling, oil still slick on his bare torso.

In this moment, the nurse feels oddly complacent despite discovering a new facet of himself. He feels that perhaps it's a product of the late hour, of the hazy pleasantness of a good night out, of the way Yoongi had felt so good under his lips.

As he thinks these strange, swirling thoughts, he leans down to find Yoongi so close, their lips merely inches away. His patient has his eyes downcast, watching Taehyung's mouth, his doll lips parting in subtle invitation. His eyes flutter shut and Taehyung knows he shouldn't take without permission, should probably stop and ask the part of himself still back in Daegu holding hands with Yoonji if this is ok, but it feels ok, feels right...

Yoongi's breath hitches, the little puff of air cascading over Taehyung's lips and he decides to go for it, to taste Yoongi for a second time this night—

A shrill ringing echoes through the room, startling both of them into panic.

Yoongi immediately dives for his phone on the nightstand and answers the call. It's Jimin, judging by the picture on the screen.

"Jagi-yah?"

Taehyung tries not to grimace at the overly affectionate name that spills from Yoongi's lips so easily.

"Calm down, Jimin. Holy fuck, calm down." Yoongi stares through the nurse as he listens to his friend on the other line, and Taehyung feels his heart clench when his patient's face falls with grief. "Ok, ok, I understand. It's going to be ok, Jimin. I promise, ok? Just... keep me updated."

Once Yoongi ends the call, he throws the phone on the bed and cradles his face in his hands. It takes everything Taehyung has within him not to pester him with concern. Eventually, Yoongi looks up and tears glisten in the corners of his dark eyes before falling gracefully over the swell of his cheeks.

Taehyung has to look away. He's seen too much of his patient crying tonight. He absolutely hates the sight.

"Jimin's mother is.... gone."

And Taehyung doesn't know if Yoongi is crying solely out of sympathy for his friend, or if he too had been close with the woman, but it makes no difference. The nurse drops to his knees immediately beside the bed to pull Yoongi into him.

The elder begins to protest, weakly pushing at Taehyung's chest, but the nurse just rocks them both back and forth gently.

"Not tonight," he tells Yoongi, whispering into his hair. "Tomorrow you can hate me all you want, but tonight, I've got you."

The feeling of Yoongi's hand curling into his shirt as he leans into Taehyung is something that the nurse instantly knows that he'll never forget.