Chapter Text
“Did you like the show?” Taehyung asks when they return to the apartment.
Yoongi can’t hold back a scoff. “I barely saw it.”
Taehyung doesn’t respond, simply setting down his things and pacing through the bedroom. Moments later, Yoongi hears the shower go on.
Seokjin’s words nagged at him throughout the night. Hoseok begged them all to have dinner together, and Namjoon looked so excited, so of course Yoongi agreed to go. Seokjin didn’t, said he had a night shift. Jimin’s reaction proved that untrue, but no one dared bring it up.
Now, fully fed and about to sleep, Yoongi opens his laptop bag on the kitchen counter, taking his medication out one brightly-coloured bottle at a time. He opens Naver on his cellphone, an app no amount of memory loss could let him forget, and searches the names of his many drugs.
There’s one to help him sleep, one to prevent another seizure, and then... Sertraline, an anti-depressant his search claims is used to treat OCD and anxiety. But... why would he take an anti-depressant for that? Why the hell would he need such a high dose of something that won’t actually treat him?
An idea pops into his head: maybe he used to need it, but now he doesn’t. The seizure helped, cured that part him, left him healthier than before. He’s pretty sure he’d know if he had OCD. Would have caught himself washing his hands too much, scrubbing the floors for no reason... sure, maybe he stacked Taehyung’s headshots yesterday so the photos sat perfectly straight along all edges, but that’s satisfying for everyone, isn’t it? And anxiety... hell, he hasn’t felt anything since he’s been awake, least of all anxious.
He takes the first two medications, opens the Sertraline, exhales. Shakes one of the bright orange capsules into his palm, and...
Throws it in the sink. Let’s it dissolve down the drain.
He’s not depressed. He’s not anxious. He’s not crazy.
He’s fine.
“Are you sleeping in the guest room tonight?” Taehyung’s waiting in the doorway to his bedroom- their bedroom- with a grim look on his usually cheerful face. He’s expecting Yoongi to run, obviously, hide in the guest bedroom as if that’s what he did last night, when really he just didn’t want to be nuisance.
But Yoongi’s not going to run, not going to let Taehyung’s worry spiral until he too assumes his boyfriend’s lost it.
“Why would I?” Yoongi answers, plasters a smile on his face, steps in front of the taller man. “When my weighted blanket sleeps right here.”
And that earns him a proper grin. Taehyung’s eyes light up and Yoongi’s struck (not for the first time) by how handsome he is, how unlikely it is that they’re together.
“Okay. I’ll get you some water for your pills-“
“I already took them. All of them,” Yoongi adds, hoping it comes off unsuspicious.
”That’s my boy,” Taehyung praises, patting his head jokingly.
Yoongi forces a laugh, and in a moment of inspiration, grabs the collar of Tae’s pajamas. Pulls him down into a hard kiss. Watches him come up for air, bewildered.
“What was that for?” he demands, but seems kind of delighted.
It’s easy to lie for the sake of that face. “For taking me to Hoseok’s show. I really wanted to go.”
“I’m so glad.” God, such a gorgeous smile. “So was everyone, seeing you out and doing things like normal. Anyway, you must be tired.”
“I’m okay.”
“Says the man who got lost on the way to the bathroom.” Yoongi crosses his arms. Tae snorts. “I’m kidding. Please just text me next time, all right?” Yoongi nods. That’s fair, and he should have paid more attention to how long he’d left the show, should have communicated with this man who wants nothing more than to help him.
Yoongi doesn’t need his help, but maybe Taehyung needs to help him regardless. Same as Namjoon wants to. They need to see how well Yoongi’s doing, how much better he feels since the hospital, how much difference their help can make. Yoongi needs to show them.
So, Yoongi marches over to the dresser, retrieves fresh pajamas, lets Tae watch blatantly as he changes into them. There’s a vast shift in the room’s energy. A good one. Tae seems happy, and Yoongi’s happy to please him. Happy that Hoseok was happy earlier, that the others (at least most of them) were too. Everything is wonderful, until:
“I’m sorry.”
If there’s one thing that struck Yoongi first about Taehyung, it was his voice. Deep and thick, smooth like the jazz he so loves listening to. But he doesn’t like that voice saying those words.
“What for?”
Taehyung shifts his weight from side to side as he speaks, scratches at his palms. “You’re right, I make too many plans. It’s just... that’s something you used to do, you know?”
“I did?”
Tae nods, still fidgeting. “All the time. I think it was... your way of promising me tomorrow.”
Yoongi can’t imagine it, can’t picture himself needing that kind of crutch just to make it day by day, but... that was the old Yoongi. The Yoongi who needed pills to keep him sane. The Yoongi everyone looks at like he’s fragile, or worse, about to explode.
“Why couldn’t I just say it?”
“You’re not like that. You don’t really talk about your feelings. Not that you’re cold! You’re just...quiet, sometimes. I... I know what Seokjin-hyung told you tonight.”
Of course he does. Of course Seokjin betrayed him, even if no boundary was set in the first place. “About what?”
“Hyung,” Tae pleads, and things were going so well before, so Yoongi steps swiftly toward him, plants big hands on his buff chest, rubs gently to try and calm the nervous man.
“What did Seokjin-hyung tell you?” He adds the honorific, doesn’t want to come off too angry. It doesn’t matter anyway.
“You didn’t know you were on anti-depressants. I wasn’t hiding it from you, I promise! You had all the bottles in your own bag, I figured you must have checked them out, but... maybe it was nice, you know? Not pointing them out all the time. Just letting them be like a normal part of your daily treatment.”
Yoongi lets his hands drag across Taehyung’s shoulders, down his arms, grasps his fingers.
“I’m not angry. I was surprised, because I didn’t remember feeling that way. Didn’t remember needing them.”
“And you’re okay? Now that you know?”
Much better. “Of course I’m okay, Taehyung-ah. Like you said: it’s just a regular medication like anything else.”
Taehyung doesn’t comment on that, but his cheeks go red. “What?” Yoongi questions.
“My name.” Yoongi lifts a brow. Then: “It’s the first time you’ve said it... like that.” He means informally, Yoongi adding the affectionate ‘ah’ that comes only from closeness.
This time, Yoongi’s smile is completely real. “See? I’m already doing much better.”
He turns out the lights and they crawl into bed. Yoongi rolls himself into Taehyung’s space, lets himself be enveloped in strong, muscular arms. Kisses the exposed sternum when Tae’s top buttons shift open.
“You know, I kind of thought I was driving you nuts,” Tae admits.
“I’m sure you will eventually,” Yoongi jokes, and Tae snorts. “You don’t need to worry about me,” Yoongi assures- yeah, his boyfriend. “It’s just a lot. The hospital, all the guys, trying to remember everything... it’s a lot. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you.”
“That’s okay. I’d be freaked out, too. I’m just glad you have Joonie.”
Yoongi lifts his chin, tries to scope out Tae’s expression in the darkness. “What do you mean?”
“I mean... it must be hard to trust me when you can’t remember me. Everyone told me to take it easy on you, and I know I shouldn’t be so forward, shouldn’t get so excited about what’s going to happen when you get better, but...”
“But?”
“I mean, you’re still Yoongi-hyung. You might not have all your memories or dress like you used to or ask for the same things in your ramen... but you’re my Yoongi. How could I treat you any different?”
That’s good. Yoongi doesn’t want to be treated differently. Just wants to keep moving forward, forget what Seokjin told him, prove he’s not as broken as the drugs in his satchel have led the others to believe.
“I promise tomorrow, Tae-ah,” he whispers, and his boyfriend clutches him tighter, and they both fall fast asleep.