Chapter Text
You see, there was something really familiar about this new addition to their group.
A short, stout stature, chubby cheeks, a smile that filled his face to the fullest and making his warm eyes disappear into slits.
An infectious laughter that rang in the air, Busan-dialect mixed sentences.
Ears that turned bright red at the slightest of compliments, small hands that he could completely engulf in his own large hands.
There was something extremely familiar about this can’t-sit-still dancer named Park Jimin.
And because they were the same age, Taehyung had gladly welcomed him into BTS, and over the years, the two developed an inseparable relationship.
They shared all their happiness, sadness, complaints, and anger together. Not a single secret remained in between them.
Yet, whenever Taehyung saw Jimin passed out on the top bunk, exhausted from practice, he felt a painful pang in his heart and felt the need to shake the boy awake, to make sure he was still breathing.
He didn’t know why, though.
Just seeing Jimin with his eyes closed made him uneasy, for some reason.
And on the day Jimin collapsed on stage in Japan, Taehyung felt his heart stop.
He had been slow to react, watching his best friend fall in a slow-motion. When the dull thud rang in the air, breaking the deathly silence, Taehyung lurched forward with the rising screams of their fans.
Despite the managers’ and the paramedics’ assurance that Jimin had not passed out because of anything serious, throughout their entire concert, Taehyung couldn’t concentrate on his performance, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to put his heart into pleasing the fans. He had to constantly remind himself to keep up the smile and the lighthearted tone whenever he talked.
And when they were backstage, Jungkook pointed out with concerned eyes that he was crying.
Taehyung was bewildered.
There really was no need to cry, after all.
It wasn’t as if Jimin died.
The thought made his breath stop in his throat. His leg shook uneasily during the ride back to the hotel, his eyes blankly staring at their group KakaoTalk chatroom, Jimin’s messages of apologies and reassurances not quite registering into his head.
Taehyung made the decision to tackle Jimin in a hug as soon as he saw him.
But when he actually met eyes with the boy still in bed, he froze right outside the door, the other members gently pushing past him to surround Jimin’s bed, scolding him in hushed voices for worrying them.
Jimin laughed sheepishly.
And as Taehyung took in the sight of the members crowding around a bed-ridden Jimin, he felt his heart stop for a second time.
A strange sense of déjà vu rendered his mind numb.
For a moment, the homely hotel bed changed into a hospital bed, the warm, orange walls became blindingly white, scent of air-fresheners and fresh sheets suddenly a sharp scent of disinfectant and medicine.
Jimin turned toward him, puzzled at the motionless boy.
Jimin’s lips stretched out into a smile, and it took Taehyung’s everything to not scream.
“Hello! I don’t think I know you. Are you in the wrong room?”
…
“Are you alright? You’re crying…”
“Taetae, are you alright?”
For some reason, the nickname sounded so foreign to him, coming from Jimin.
But he still found his feet moving on their own accord, toward Jimin.
He paused, but soon collapsed onto the bed, wrapping his arms around the waist of a now sitting up Jimin, burying his face into Jimin’s stomach.
And Jimin’s body was warm, still thrumming with energy. He could hear the gentle thump, thump, thump of his heart beating.
He barely registered the other members taking their leave, giving the two some space.
As soon as the door closed with a resounding click, Taehyung felt Jimin’s soft fingers run through his hair.
“Taehyung, what’s wrong?”
Taehyung looked up at Jimin, who was looking down at him with a worried gaze.
Jimin’s cheeks were rosy, probably from sleep, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and make sure that they were warm.
Warm, chocolate orbs widened in surprise as Taehyung sat up, straddling Jimin as his hands cupped Jimin’s cheeks.
And the warmth that radiated off of the skin, the warmth that traveled up his arm, confirmed that the orange-haired male was still very much alive.
“Taehyung? Taehyung, you’re crying. Were you that worried?”
He couldn’t bring himself to retort at Jimin’s teasing. The other seemed to catch onto Taehyung’s seriousness, and brought his hands up to Taehyung’s face, gently wiping away the tears.
“I’m perfectly fine, Tae. Just a little bruise, but nothing serious. I’m still alive.”
Somehow, those words made his tears fall harder.
“Jimin.”
Jimin hummed a noise of affirmation.
“I can say it now.”
“Say what?”
“I love you.”
Jimin opened his mouth to reply with a “Me too,” but the way Taehyung gazed at him, the tone that settled into his voice, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the usual “I love you” that they often told each other.
When Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed, large thumbs smudging wetness on his cheeks, he realized that he was crying, too.
He didn’t know why.
Just hearing those words from Taehyung made him feel as if he was soaring, made him cry harder in joy.
As if he finally got something that he had been longing for desperately for a long, long time.
A small whimper escaped him, and his hands moved from Taehyung’s cheeks to the hands still cupping his cheeks.
“Me too,” he whispered, and only then did Taehyung’s crestfallen expression melt away, replaced by a wide, teary smile.
And when their lips met, they almost laughed at how much they were shaking, how desperately they held onto each other, as if they were afraid that the other would slip away and disappear.
Before they knew it, sleep had crept upon them, both of them collapsing onto the mattress and burrowing under the thick blanket, feet tangled in each other’s, Jimin held tightly in Taehyung’s arms.
When Jimin woke up, it was in Taehyung’s embrace—the warmth and the scent of his best friend comforted him, making him forget the way his muscles ached after yesterday’s performance.
He glanced up, and found that Taehyung was already awake, gently gazing at him.
“Morning,” Jimin whispered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.
“Morning,” Taehyung replied with a small smile.
They stayed that way for a while—Taehyung absently toying with locks of Jimin’s hair, Jimin just sighing contently as he buried his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck.
Then Jimin smiled.
“Hey, Tae,” he spoke up.
“Hmm?”
Jimin smiled up at him. “Want to go get ice cream?”