Partners in Speed - ver.2 (also Street Racers #2)

SR 5. Taehyung

After using Yoongi's pool for a couple hours, the four of us have dinner together. Then we split. Jungkook and Yeeun go their way, and Wooshik and I end up at my place.

"I hate cleaning," I say, when he asks why I'd go for a small place like that. "And that was enough for one person."

"I love cleaning," he says. I can't help but feel there is something underneath those words. The way he says it. You hate cleaning, but I love it, so when we live together... "Do you like it?"

"I've never assigned much meaning to it," I say. "I just wanted a place to sleep. My garage feels more like home to me, and it's enough."

He looks around, sprawled on the bed. "You're right, it's empty. Are you a minimalist?"

"What's the opposite?"

"Maximalist?"

"I guess I'm in between. I just didn't have a mind to fill this place."

My hair is still damp from the pool, so I take a towel from the bathroom and sit on the bed next to him, drying my hair. Wooshik closes his eyes, and I watch him. I am not in the mood for saying much, but I want, really badly, to know he's here. If not by hearing him, then by watching.

Though watching isn't good enough either. Too far away. So I throw the towel off the bed and put my head on his shoulder. He curls the arm around me. The window is opened, the silence always mixes with traffic. And I close my eyes, too, temporarily loving this moment more than any other in my life.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice is no louder than the distant traffic. I like it.

"Yes."

"What are we?"

"What do you mean?"

He huffs a laugh. "I mean... that thing between us. What is it? And what are we? It's not like the titles are very important to me, but... I'm just thinking a lot about it. And I'm not the type to overthink things."

"Well." I open my eyes, running my fingers up and down the side of his stomach. "Let's think about it. What do you want it to be?"

When he turns onto his side to look at me, I'm still lying on his arm. "You know what I don't like doing? When my friends call you my boyfriend, I don't like telling them you're not really one. We're just going out, that's what I tell them. And I don't like it."

"There you go," I say, trying not to smile like an idiot.

"Boyfriend?" He brings his hand to my cheek. I've never had anything like this. I've never been treated like this. I've never felt this... no, not happy. Happiness is not the word I'm looking for. I've never felt this... loved. "Only if you want it, too. I know it hasn't been long, and I tend to be a bit straightforward, but-"

"I want it, too," I say, shuffling around. "But quit talking now." I press my lips against his. He kisses back, blindly pulling me closer. I can't tell how, because I'm busy kissing, but I end up throwing my leg over his. At the end of the whole shuffling-around-but-never-stopping-the-kissing, he's sitting on the bed, and I'm sitting on his lap.

I could never stop, no matter how much I need to stop to breathe. I don't care. I love everything about it. The way he kisses me, and the way his lips feel, and the way his hands hold onto me, and how close we are. And more than this I love what I'm realizing as we do.

For once, I want to enjoy being taken care of. I like when he does those small things – put his arm around me, make me coffee, randomly kiss my cheeks or my forehead; I like resting my head on his shoulder, and I like it when he drives, and I like it when he listens to me, whatever I have to say.

"Do you know what it means now?" he asks when we break the kiss.

"What?"

"I'm sleeping here tonight."

"I was hoping you would."

I have a feeling he'll be sleeping here way more often than tonight.