Chapter Text
“Tonight, is a very special night. In fact, every night is special in its own way, but some might consider this night extraordinary. Astronomers have announced meteor-showers for tonight. If you have the chance, I want you to step outside, breathe in the fresh night-air, and watch the magnificent sight. The lights appearing and disappearing in an inky and velvety black sky. It should be clear tonight. Step out, breathe, and enjoy the moment. Maybe you have a loved one to stand by you. Maybe you are alone and that’s fine as well. Consider yourself your loved one, because you deserve it. Watch the stars and just breathe. Listen.”
Yoongi switched to the next song, taking off his headphones. Muffled against his neck he heard the faint melody, slow and calming. With a sigh he stretched his arms above his head, popping his joints, before taking a sip of lukewarm coffee. The sore feeling in his throat was well familiar, he could bear it for another hour.
His phone vibrated against his thigh, and when he glanced at it, he rolled his eyes at the six messages Hoseok had sent him. But Yoongi would check them later. The tinny song still sounded in his headphones, two and a half minutes to go. He let his gaze travel around the small, dim-lit booth. There was no window to watch the stars. Only black, soundproof walls. Humming equipment and the microphones.
50 seconds to go. Putting the headphones back on, Yoongi took another sip and cleared his throat, focusing back on his notes.
“Welcome back listeners. Some of you might enjoy tonight’s view, some of you might remain with me. Either way I hope there’s comfort wherever you are. It’s 2:45 and the hours are getting longer. Maybe I have the privilege of being your comfort? I hope my voice can reach you in some way. Some of you might know this, when you’ve tuned in before, but now comes the section when not only do I want my voice to reach you, but also want your voice to reach me. Let this be a conversation, in those long dark hours. Wish for a song that might heal your weary mind, don’t be afraid to ask.” Pausing shortly, Yoongi threw a glance at the blinking display.
“We already have a listener on the line. Hello, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
“Hello?”
“Yes, welcome. What’s your name?”
“I’m… it’s Taehyung.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up and he froze momentarily in front of the microphone. “Oh, welcome back, Taehyung. You’ve called before, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Yes… you remember? Yeah, I called a few times already – I hope that’s okay?”
This time, Yoongi hummed with amusement, before leaning closer to the microphone again. “Of course, it is. I am delighted. Which song do you wish for, Taehyung?”
“Uhm, I wondered if you could play A Thousand Kisses Deep by Leonard Cohen?”
“So, it’s the usual, am I correct? Ah, very good choice. Would you like to tell us a bit about your night, Taehyung? Have you seen any shooting stars?” Yoongi asked while searching for the requested song.
“Uhm, no actually, I was on my way to bed so…yeah. Gotta get up early.”
“Well, in that case I hope this song will carry you to slumber quickly and gently, so that you might be rested for the new day. Thank you for calling, Taehyung. Maybe we’ll hear from you some other time?”
“Yes, thank you! Good night as well and uh – hope you can sleep well too!”
Yoongi smiled to himself when the man hung up, a brief silence following.
“Alright, listeners. As the third hour of the day almost reaches us, the song A Thousand Kisses Deep will accompany us when the clock strikes. Good night, Taehyung.”
When Yoongi returned home at half past five, his head was pounding.
He was used to it, yet that didn’t make it any less painful. His entire neck seemed pricked with needles when he moved, and his brain ached as if someone had pulled something straight out of it. As he stood in the bathroom and watched himself brushing his teeth, all he could hear was Seokjin’s voice echoing in his mind.
It’s the lack of physical activity!
You should at least train your back and go for walks!
Stop sitting in front of computers so long!
You shouldn’t be surprised when you sleep either for four or twelve hours!
Try Yoga!
Yoongi gave himself an eye-roll in the mirror before he leaned down to spit out toothpaste. Maybe Seokjin was right with everything he said. It just didn’t make things easier when Yoongi hadn’t yet found a way to pull himself out of it and do it all. Take care of himself, sleep regularly. Get his life together.
When he slipped into bed, everything rotated around him. The ragged blinds painting uneven stripes of faint city-lights onto his bedroom wall, blurring in his vision. With a sigh he closed his eyes, burying his head deeper into the pillows. The sting in his throat was always more prominent around this time. Usually when he returned home, he drank some honey-lemon-tea, soothing his voice at least a little bit. Tonight however, he had forgotten all about it, mind too frazzled and scattered. Yoongi was too exhausted to get out of bed again.
Taehyung.
Whenever Yoongi returned from his radio-show, his mind echoed with all the voices, the words and melodies, all that had filled his ears for two hours straight. At last, it was all just a jumbled mess of noises that kept him from falling asleep. Sometimes he wished that his pillow might absorb all his thoughts, eat his brain empty.
Especially tonight, it was just Taehyung. Repeatedly, Taehyung.
The caller, whose voice he had heard a few times before, had accompanied him for the past weeks. The same song he liked to request, in the middle of the night. You live your life as if it's real, a thousand kisses deep - always the same. Always the same Taehyung. Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder who Taehyung was. What made him call the radio, what it was about that song that he apparently loved so much. Why he never slept in those dark hours.
He found himself hoping Taehyung would call more often.
*
Hoseok’s face split into a wide smile when Yoongi opened the door.
“My god, you look like you’ve just been revived from the dead.”
“Thanks, nice to see you too, Hoseok.” Yoongi muttered drily and stepped aside to let his friend in.
Hoseok pressed a white plastic bag into his hands before shrugging off his shoes and jacket.
“When’s Joon arriving?” he asked when they stepped into Yoongi’s tiny living-room. “The food’s getting cold, he should hurry up.”
“I have no idea, he texted half an hour ago that he’s on his way.”
Yoongi set the bag on the wobbly coffee-table carefully, stomach churning at the warm smell of fried chicken and noodles. He’d just gotten up an hour ago, and despite having only eaten a few biscuits with three cups of coffee, he wasn’t feeling all that hungry. But when Hoseok started unpacking the food enthusiastically, Yoongi concluded firmly to eat as much as he could since his friend went out of his way to buy it all.
“Don’t you wanna wait for your boyfriend?” Yoongi asked with light amusement when Hoseok broke his chopsticks, shrugging in response.
“It’s his fault when he isn’t on time. It’s 16:12 already, that’s twelve minutes late. I, for my part, I want to enjoy my food warm and not stale.” Hoseok lifted his chin defiantly before reaching for a piece of fried chicken.
Yoongi shook his head chidingly, before reaching for his own chopsticks. He didn’t mention that Hoseok was late as well. Not that he cared, Yoongi never much cared about time.
Just when he’d raised a bit of rice to his lips, the doorbell rang again.
“Seems like he’s excused.” He stated with a grin before rushing to the door again. Hoseok’s laughter followed him.
“Hoseok thinks you deserve stale chicken since you’re late. “ Yoongi greeted Namjoon, who looked slightly windswept and hurried.
“When did he arrive?” he asked with an affronted look, fighting himself out of his scarf and jacket. His hair stuck into all directions and his glasses tipped dangerously close to falling from his nose.
“Just five minutes ago.” Yoongi grinned and Namjoon sighed with resignation.
“He has no right to scold me. You know it’s not easy coordinating your way through the metro station, and up the stairs, which are fucking frozen, falling down three steps, having all your papers fly around you and having to gather them while a horde of people trample all over it? Also, my lower back is in a lot of pain now.” Namjoon pointedly aimed his last sentence at Hoseok, who watched him with laughter in his eyes from the sofa.
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but fondness spread inside his chest when Namjoon leaned down to drop a kiss on Hoseok’s lips.
“Aren’t you used to pain in your lower parts though?” Hoseok asked cheekily with his eyes glinting, earning himself a slap on the arm. Namjoon’s cheeks were flushed red, maybe from the cold outside or maybe from his boyfriend’s teasing.
“But seriously though, you should be wrapped in bubble wrap.” Hoseok shook his head while pushing a container of noodles into Joon’s waiting hands.
“Honestly, that doesn’t even sound like a bad idea.” Namjoon muttered, all pain seemingly forgotten at the sight of food.
A few minutes of silence followed, everyone too busy eating. Yoongi ate careful and slow, not to upset his stomach while his friends didn’t hold back. His heart warmed at the sight of them eating so well. Squeezed on his tiny sofa, Hoseok curled against Namjoon’s side with his feet pulled up. It was such a familiar sight. Even though Yoongi’s head was heavy due to his long night, he found himself more relaxed. The tension in his shoulders lessened and maybe the food really did him some good, since he felt a lot warmer now.
Hoseok was the first to finish and he stretched his arms with a content groan, before snuggling closer to his boyfriend. Namjoon struggled to hold his cup of noodles, throwing a fond look down at him.
“I listened to your show last night, hyung.”
Yoongi looked up from his food, raising an eyebrow.
“I figured, since you spammed me with dozens of messages.” He responded and placed down his cup. Half of it was left, but Yoongi felt stuffed to the brim already.
“Yeah, and you answered after you woke up today. That was late and mean.” Hoseok met his eyes challengingly.
Namjoon huffed a laugh through his mouth full of chicken, shaking his head.
“You’re complaining a lot today, baby.” He observed, dimples appearing on his cheeks.
Hoseok waved a dismissive hand, eyes still fixed on Yoongi.
“I must support my bro. Just wanted to mention that last night was great, as always. Though I do worry about your sleep-schedule – “
Yoongi opened his mouth, but Hoseok was quicker.
“ – I’m not gonna be the one to tell what is good for you, that’s Seokjin’s jobs. My point is, am glad you’re enjoying the job and am happy to see it’s being received well.” He finished, his lips pulling into a sincere smile.
Yoongi shuffled around on his armchair, searching for words. He’d never been the best with receiving compliments. Namjoon saved the situation by dropping the empty cup on the table with a small oops, wooden chopsticks rattling against the glass table. When Yoongi met his eyes, he found the familiar look on his friend’s face.
The look that showed that Namjoon wished nothing more than to give him The Talk about how to improve his lifestyle. But Namjoon knew better than anyone else, that nagging and pushing Yoongi led to nothing. While Seokjin was prone to doing so, Yoongi had found ways of dealing with those repetitive and tiring conversations; sarcasm being his favourite weapon. In the end, he did treasure Seokjin’s care, even though it grew more and more annoying. He knew all his friends were worried, but he appreciated Namjoon’s effort not to contribute to uncomfortable conversations. Especially in those rare times they managed to hang out.
“Yeah, I enjoy it a lot. Maybe it’s not paid that well but, you know. I actually like it.” Yoongi finally answered. “Did you watch the shooting stars?”
“We did, actually.” Namjoon smiled widely, now finally free from his food so he placed his arm around Hoseok, dropping a kiss on his head. “This one is a romantic, even when he tries to deny it.”
“You weren’t exactly difficult to persuade either.” Hoseok retorted, tilting his head upwards like a satisfied cat, leaning into Namjoon’s embrace.
Yoongi had always been the cynical type around couples. He was surprised at himself how much he enjoyed seeing his friends happily in love, being mushy and cheesy around each other even when he sat right there. It was Namjoon and Hoseok after all. Maybe they were too wrapped up in each other and maybe sometimes, a selfish part of Yoongi, missed the old days when they had all just been friends. But then he listened to Namjoon’s secret dreams of marrying Hoseok someday, with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, when Hoseok talked proudly of his boyfriend’s novel that was slowly forming over the month, as if Namjoon had painted the stars and hung the moon – and Yoongi hoped they could stay this happy for ever.
Maybe they barely managed to meet up recently, everyone busy with their own lives, and maybe Yoongi missed them. He’d never been good with handling what life and time threw at him, but he’d accepted it years ago.
“Oh, and that caller last night, Taeyeon? Taehyun?”
Yoongi’s eyes shot up, the twitch of his hand unnoticed by his friend.
“You mean Taehyung?” he asked and Hoseok snapped his fingers.
“Exactly! Sorta eerie, isn’t it? Having someone call almost every night. Maybe he’ll turn into a local legend or something, The Guy That Keeps Calling to your radio station and people will anticipate it every night…”
Hoseok’s voice faded when Yoongi turned his gaze outside the window. A grey veil of rain hid the world from him. He was used to his days feeling bleak, only the presence of his friends a change in constant monotony.
But ever since he worked at the radio, his nights at least gave him some sense of purpose. Giving him a mystery to wonder about. A name he had heard so many times but had neither a face nor a story.
A name and a song.
A Thousand Kisses Deep.
*
“Hello, this is Taehyung. Again.”
Yoongi couldn’t hold back the smile stealing its way on his lips. The man on the other end of the line laughed nervously.
“Welcome back, Taehyung. It’s a pleasure hearing from you again. Might it be the usual today?”
“Oh, I hope this isn’t weird, you know that song just really means a lo – “
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to justify your love for it.” Yoongi interrupted gently. “It’s a beautiful song. Cohen is one of my personal favourites as well. But what you could tell us about instead, considering today’s topic, do you like your name? Do you have any nicknames?”
“Hmm well, I think I like it? Never much thought about it to be honest. Uhm. I do have nicknames though, everyone either calls me Taehyungie or Tae. Sometimes even, eh, Tae-Tae.”
A bashful laugh followed, tinny in Yoongi’s headphones.
“Thank you, Taehyung. I must say your name is quite meaningful. ‘My wisdom will be higher than the sky’. Is that right?”
“Oh, yes, that’s correct! My grandfather chose it for me.”
“Given the impression, he chose well. Now, let’s fulfil your song request and I wish you a good night. Thank you for calling again, until next time?”
“Yes, thank you! Thank you, until next time then!”
Yoongi switched on the familiar tune, leaning away from the microphone with a heavy sigh. His phone exploded once again in a buzzing fit against his thigh. He appreciated Hoseok’s interest in his show, but sometimes he wished he’d never listen to it. It just made him feel more awkward. Risking a glance, he swiped down on the messages. The sentence Are you flirting with a complete stranger on radio for everyone to hear? caught his eyes and he immediately switched off the phone again with a grunt.
One minute left. Yoongi considered his empty coffee cup, regretting not having filled it up earlier. Now he had to wait for another ten minutes. Straightening his shoulders, he watched the blinking light that indicated the finishing song.
“Names. What a strange concept. We give names, and suddenly it holds a meaning. If there’s a name, it holds value. Things we can’t name or speak about, are practically non-existent. Just a vague idea, before we assign a word, a sound, to what faces us. Sometimes there are multiple names. Sometimes none. Sometimes forgotten and sometimes remembered. But we always need names. That’s how humans find meaning, find value, find guidance. I want to call out to you. No matter what name you hold, no matter what others call you. Even if you don’t have a name – forget the illusion that you don’t have value, that you don’t matter. You are here, you are listening. I don’t know your name, but I treasure and value each and every one of you.”
That night, Yoongi didn’t forget his honey-lemon-tea. His throat was aching as if someone had dragged a parched paper down his vocal cords. The pleasant heat of tea and honey muted the itch slightly.
You need to take care of yourself! Seokjin’s voice echoed in his mind.
And another morning broke above the roof-tops, when Yoongi wondered about Taehyung. Wondered about the song, what it meant to the other man and why he requested it repeatedly. Laughed at his own words, because yes, things held value even without a name, but ever since there was a regular caller whose name sounded so familiar already – it was special. Yoongi’s perspective had changed, just by hearing Taehyung’s voice so often and being able to call him by his name. When the song and name went hand in hand.
And sometimes when the night is slow. The goddamn melody never left his mind. The wretched and the meek. Outside the sky was turning rose and pale, and Yoongi clutched to his pillow because his nerves run high and his thoughts turned like whirlwinds.
We gather up our hearts and go , a thousand kisses deep.
Yoongi wished he knew how to switch off his brain.
*
Seokjin was the only friend Yoongi managed to meet up regularly.
It was a blessing and a curse all the same. A curse because Seokjin insisted on having coffee together every Tuesday afternoon, not accepting any excuses unless Yoongi was held down by sickness or some other important appointment. Sometimes a Tuesday came around when Yoongi was too tired to talk, too exhausted to pick apart what was going on in his life. That’s when he cursed him.
Apart from that, Seokjin was a blessing, because when those Tuesdays happened, he read it from his face like he was an open book. Then he was content just to sit with Yoongi and drink their coffees. Sometimes he would tell him about his day, but he respected Yoongi’s need for distance. And even when those grey monotone Tuesdays heaved down Yoongi’s shoulders, in the evening he didn’t feel all that lonely anymore.
Today’s Tuesday was bleak, the rain outside contributed a great deal to it. February was always the most dreadful month. Grey and wet with nothing to look forward to except going to bed in the evening.
“What do you want?” Yoongi asked as they stood at the far end of the line, checking out the signs above the counter.
“Are you ordering?” Seokjin threw him a surprised glance. “That’s unusual. Well I’m taking the same as always.”
“I’m inviting you. Go pick out a table, before all of them are occupied.” Yoongi shrugged, ignoring Seokjin’s impressed face before he disappeared deeper into the café.
People brushed around him, voices mixing with floating lounge-music, and his skin itched. Maybe his throat did tighten a bit because he was used to Seokjin ordering, but Yoongi straightened his shoulders instead. Tried his best to ignore the noises around him and focus on his order. The smell of coffee woke him up, which made the hassle all worth it.
When it was his turn to order, Yoongi stepped up to the counter but his gaze stayed glued to the board, holding tight onto his words.
“One Iced Americano, venti, please, and one Iced Caramel Macchiato, lactose-free and decaf, please. Venti as well.” In his mind, Yoongi added a curse directed at Seokjin. Who even liked caramel macchiato?
A brief silence followed and when Yoongi’s eyes finally left the board, he was faced with a visibly shaken barista.
“Did you catch that? Or should I repeat that?” Yoongi asked, heat shooting in his face and he quickly gathered his wallet, busying his fingers. Regretting all his life-decisions.
“Oh, excuse me. No. I mean, yes, it’ll be right up, sir.” The barista stammered. “That’ll be 11.890 won please.”
Yoongi’s heart seemed to be stuck in his throat and the urge to run away almost choked him. Without meeting the barista’s eyes, Yoongi dropped the money into the man’s hands quickly.
“Keep the change.”
“Uhm, thank you. Uhm- your name, sir?”
Finally, Yoongi raised his gaze with confusion, blinking at the barista. He had very big eyes he noticed, watching him with a sort of anxious expectation.
“For the order.” The man clarified quickly, hand waving around. A silver bracelet twinkled in Yoongi’s blurry vision.
“Oh, yes sorry. Sorry. It’s Yoongi.”
“Okay, your order will be called out when ready.”
But Yoongi barely heard his words, scuffling to the side quickly to make way for the next person and escaping those huge eyes. His cheeks burned.
“Have you checked out the link I sent you two days ago?”
“Hm?” Yoongi lifted his head from the papers, meeting Seokjin’s eyes.
Their half empty cups of coffee stood between them on the tiny round table, half-hidden by papers. After Yoongi had brought their orders, Seokjin spotted his internal stress like the mind-reader he was and had focused on his drink first, not commenting on it. Once again, Yoongi was grateful for how considerate Seokjin was. He’d witnessed Yoongi overwhelmed by social situations too many times before. But his time of recovery was evidently over now that Seokjin’s gaze was fixed on him, conversation-mode on.
“The link?”
Yoongi shook his head, pulling up his shoulders helplessly. “Sorry, no I haven’t checked my mail yet…was too busy and – you know how it is.”
Avoiding Seokjin’s eyes, he stared out the wide windows. Followed trails of raindrops painting silver paths onto the glass. Seokjin sighed and Yoongi’s heart clenched at the way his next words sounded so damn careful.
“It’s a link to a school. A colleague of mine at work talked about it. It’s part-school part-work, focused on media and communication… I thought maybe you’d be interested.”
A short silence followed between them, only broken by chatting voices and dishes clanking.
“Thank you, hyung. But I’m actually quite happy with the job I got right now.” Yoongi finally said, leaning further back on his chair. His head felt endlessly vast and empty.
Seokjin’s brows furrowed, his handsome face filled with the worry Yoongi loathed so much.
“I just thought this might interest you and secure a future for you – “
“I like the radio. I like working there and it’s what I can do best right now. It’s what feels right.” Yoongi hated how his voice shook, hated how his emotions took over his ability to think clearly. Every word sounded childish and meaningless.
“You know I just want the best for you. That I want to support you.” Seokjin said gently, folding the paper in front of them with calm hands. Yoongi stared at the movement.
“I know you do. But I don’t feel ready, hyung. Please just accept that, right now it’s too much and I don’t think I’m ready.”
“Yoongi, how do you know when you haven’t even tried? Please just take a look at it, at least.”
Yoongi closed his eyes and pressed a finger against his temple. His head was throbbing.
“I wish we could talk about something else other than what a failure my life is or what is best for my future, apparently.” He said quietly. The noise grew fuzzy around him, like cotton stuffed in his ears.
“I don’t think your life is a failure I just think – “
“That I’m wasting away by doing jobs that pay practically nothing, even though I feel comfortable there?” Yoongi finally raised his head, meeting Seokjin’s eyes defiantly. The ache in his temple increased and the moment the words left his lips, he felt sorry.
Seokjin’s face fell, looking disappointed.
“Now that’s not fair, Yoongi. You know I don’t think any of this. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
Yoongi reached for his cup, inviting the sharp cool taste of coffee. He clung to it like it were his life-line, keeping him afloat.
Of course, he knew that Seokjin was just worried about him, that he wished Yoongi had a secure life with secure income and a degree that could open various doors in his future. Maybe he was right that the radio wasn’t a good solution for ever. But Yoongi got paid enough to get him through the months, some of his savings from his last delivery-job while he had been at college still on his account. For now, it was okay, it was all that Yoongi could do without getting crushed.
And he loved the radio. Despite his head-aches and sore throat and practically fucked up sleep-schedule, he loved spending night after night at the studio, sharing music and thoughts with complete strangers that didn’t judge him. He liked that it was a small independent radio, everyone doing their own thing and not limiting each other. Yoongi felt comfortable in his own skin, speaking his mind while not having to meet eyes.
And he wished Seokjin would see that. Wished he wouldn’t just focus on what was going wrong in his life, but focus on what made him happy right now.His accomplishments, no matter how small they appeared in Seokjin’s eyes, were huge steps for Yoongi.
“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, eyes fixed on the coffee between his hands. The ice-cubes had almost melted, and a sudden shiver overtook him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep pushing you. I know you are tired of it by now.” Seokjin sighed again, reaching for his Caramel Macchiato. This time he was the one avoiding Yoongi’s eyes.
Watching him, Yoongi found he didn’t know what to say.
After years of friendship, it always astounded him how different they were yet still managed to – sort of – keep in touch. Maybe they’d been closer in the first years of college than they were now, but back then they’d been living in the same world.
Now, Seokjin was running business like his father before him. He was successful and confident in his job. Always a clear vision, a precise goal in mind. And Yoongi was nothing like that. Yoongi was stuck in time, a college-dropout unmoving on his spot. Moving in slow-motion while everyone around him scattered and set on paths unknown to him.
It really was surprising that Seokjin still wished to see him every Tuesday and listen to what his life hadn’t become. Maybe Yoongi would never figure it out.
*
“Have you ever felt lost? Without direction? Just pulled along by the whirlwind called life with nowhere to go? Don’t worry. Everyone feels this way. Even those that have their lives put together and in order. Maybe they don’t think about it, maybe they are good with handling it, but in the end, there is always the doubt. Doubt about what it all means, what life is about, is it truly the right direction? Society tells us we need dreams, we need directions, we need to keep going and never stop. But sometimes stopping is what we need. Just to breathe, to rest and look around. Not giving up, but being able to stop for a while and regenerate, how come those aspects are constantly neglected? Don’t feel bad for resting and feeling a bit lost. We are all in this together. Alone together. Please don’t worry. Let this maybe be a voice of comfort to you. Today I asked you listeners to tell me about your fears and worries, about the songs that make you happy whenever dark hours arrive. We’ve heard from Dahye already and her song that gives her hope. Maybe it gave you hope too? Thank you again, Dahye, for sharing it with us. Let’s get to the next caller, let’s share another thought and feel less lonely.”
Yoongi paused shortly, taking a quick sip of coffee. It was especially bad today.
“We have someone on the line, welcome. What’s your name?”
“Guess.”
Caught off guard, Yoongi let out a surprised laugh, not bothering to lean away from the microphone. A shot of new energy rushed through his body.
“It’s Taehyung again, isn’t it?” he asked, not hiding the unexpected joy that filled him. Deep laughter answered him and suddenly Yoongi noticed how pleasant his voice sounded. “Are you waiting for a thousand more kisses?”
“No, no, not this time.” Taehyung answered, and Yoongi wished he knew how he sounded without the mechanical distortions of a radio-call.
“Oh? So, it’s not a song that gives you hope?”
“It is, it is. I’m just in mood for something else tonight. I’d like to request Fall In Love Too Easily, the Chet Baker-version?”
Yoongi held back another surprised sound. “Oh, that’s quite romantic. Have you met someone special today that caused this change of heart? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Hmm, you could say that. Isn’t the topic hopeful songs that lift my spirits? Well, I’m feeling a bit hopeful tonight and this song expresses it.” Taehyung sounded slightly flustered and a sudden fondness washed over Yoongi.
“Well, Taehyung. Whoever that special someone is that crossed your path today, we will dedicate this song to them. I sincerely wish things will turn to your favour, so your hope doesn’t get wasted.”
“Thank you so much! And I hope you have something to feel hopeful about as well?”
“Whenever you call, I feel hope, Taehyung. It’s a confirmation that my voice is being heard, that we are indeed not alone.”
“In that case I’ll keep calling!”
“Yes, please do that. I wish you a good, love-filled night. Let Chet Baker lull you to sleep with pleasant tunes.”
When the familiar saxophone filled Yoongi’s headphones, he leaned back with a wistful smile on his face. Despite the turmoil he’d felt with Seokjin at the café earlier this day, he was oddly at peace now. The digital clock showed 1:30 and Yoongi’s mind felt clear and light. The tension leaving his neck.
When he’d been proud of his work before, he was even more so now. And a stubborn part of him wished that Seokjin would be listening instead of Hoseok and Namjoon.