Work Text:
Taehyung is wearing his depression sweater.
Jimin shows up to Taehyung’s apartment after approximately twenty eight hours of hearing nothing from the boy, and Taehyung is wearing his depression sweater.
So that’s something.
Jimin closes the door quietly and kicks off his shoes. Treading silently into Taehyung’s apartment. He can see Taehyung curled up on the couch, swaddled up in his sweater as he hugs his own arms. Jimin thinks he’s asleep until he steps between the couch and the coffee table and catches Taehyung looking up at him.
There’s Jaeger on the table, half empty, and two empty cans of red bull on the floor. Jimin coos slightly and bends down beside the couch, gently pushing at Taehyung’s hair.
“Oh, baby,” Jimin says softly. Taehyung looks at him, and Jimin can tell that something isn’t there. His eyes aren’t hazy like they are when he’s drunk, so the Jaeger must have been from last night, but Taehyung’s eyes are sad and lifeless, and Jimin’s heart hurts. “How you feeling?”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung says. Jimin frowns at him; this type of Taehyung is always the worst. The hollow, sad type of Taehyung that can’t put his finger on what is making him feel so bad, which in turn makes it hard for Jimin to console him. “I don’t know, Jiminie. I tried– I tried to sleep, and I tried to– to drink, and I tried to wash my sheets but they’re still in the washer and–“
“I know, I know,” Jimin says quietly. He pushes Taehyung’s hair away from his face again, and Taehyung’s eyes slip shut, like speaking just that little bit exhausted him. “I texted you a while ago; where’s your phone, Tae?”
“I think under the couch, maybe,” Taehyung says. Jimin nods and reaches under the old moth eaten sofa and, sure enough, Taehyung’s phone is under it, gathering dust.
“That’s a silly place for your phone.” Jimin lays his phone on the coffee table and looks back at Taehyung’s who’s just staring at him blankly. “I’m going to run you a bath, okay? I’ll wash your hair and everything.” Taehyung doesn’t say anything, so Jimin stands up and pulls Taehyung’s sweater back over his shoulder.
Once the bath is started, Jimin drops in a bath bomb and goes about tidying up the sink and medicine cabinet. Jimin knows that when Taehyung is like this, his brain hooks on to little discrepancies – such as a glass left on his night stand or a cluttered counter top – and they tear him apart.
Jimin turns off the water and walks back to the living room, where Taehyung has pushed himself into a sitting position. Jimin walks over to him and grins as wide as he can, placing his hands on Taehyung’s knees. “Look at you! Come on, let’s go get a bath.”
Jimin kisses Taehyung’s forehead and grabs his biceps, helping him to his feet. Taehyung leans heavily against his side, and Jimin turns and kisses his neck softly. “Look at us, walking to the bathroom. One whole foot in front of the other, hot dang.”
The little indirect praises always seem to pick Taehyung up a little, knowing that yes, he can do simple tasks and yes, it’s okay if maybe it takes him a little longer to do said tasks. But he can do them, and that’s all that matters.
Once Taehyung is situated in the bath, Jimin rolls up the bottom of his pants and sits on the edge of the tub. He uses a cup to wet Taehyung’s hair and gently massages shampoo into it until Taehyung leans against Jimin’s leg and his head lolls to the side, obviously exhausted.
“Today I met Kookie for lunch, he has this new game he wants to play with you sometime. Fortnite, I think?” Jimin talks idly, telling Taehyung about his day as he rinses his hair and prods at the knots in Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung makes quiet noises every now and then, and it makes Jimin smile. He may not actually be speaking yet, but at least he’s listening and isn’t too caught up in his own head.
Once Jimin has washed all the conditioner out of Taehyung’s hair, he grabs a wash cloth and douses it in soap before handing it to Taehyung. “You finish up here, I’m going to go get something.” Before he stands up, Jimin presses a gentle kiss to the top of Taehyung’s head.
He puts Taehyung’s dirty clothes in the hamper before rifling through his closet, looking for the comfiest clothes he can find. He ends up with the pair of pajama pants he bought Taehyung for Christmas a few years before and a big shirt that he’s pretty sure is actually Seokjin’s. Jimin picks a random pair of boxers and lays them on top of the pile as he leaves the room.
“I also found this new recipe for lasagna today,” Jimin says as he walks into the bathroom. Taehyung has pulled himself out of the tub and draped a towel across his shoulders. Water from his hair drips into his eyes, and when Jimin bends down to push his bangs back, he noticed that Taehyung looks a little less empty than he did an hour ago, but he still looks – somewhere else.
Baby steps.
“So maybe we can try to make that sometime, yeah? I’ll have to borrow a big pan from Jinnie hyung so we can make enough for everyone.” Jimin leans over and pulls the plug out of the drain, and Taehyung reaches up and gently holds onto one of his belt loops. Jimin rests a hand in Taehyung’s hair, gently trying to ground him. “I’m here, right here, Tae.”
Jimin helps him dry off and get dressed, and they make their way slowly out of the bathroom. Taehyung holds tightly onto Jimin’s belt loops as they walk, and Jimin gently runs his hands over Taehyung’s knuckles.
Taehyung only detaches from him once he’s close enough to the bed just to flip onto it and cuddle into the nearest pillow. Jimin kicks off his jeans before crawling onto the other side of the bed. Taehyung’s hair falls into his face, and Jimin grins at him.
“Wanna watch something, or do you want to just lay here?” Jimin asks. Taehyung stares back at him for a moment before shifting onto his back.
“I don’t know. I just– I just don’t know,” Taehyung says miserably. Jimin coos and scoots closer to Taehyung, teaching out to grab his hand. Tears are pooling at the corner of Taehyung’s eyes, but Jimin doesn’t mention it. He knows Taehyung hates being like this, hates it even more when he doesn’t know why he feels so hollow, or why he’s crying.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jimin says quietly. He ignores Taehyung’s cry of “it’s not!” and instead sits higher on the bed so he can roll Taehyung over and hold him to his chest. Despite the pillow smashed between them, Taehyung still manages to wrap his arms so tight around Jimin’s waist that it knocks the breath out of him. “It’s okay not to know, sometimes. Life would be boring if we had it all figured out.”
“But maybe then at least I wouldn’t want to die,” Taehyung says, and Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I don’t actually– I don’t want– I’m just so tired.”
Jimin takes a deep breath and continues to pet Taehyung’s hair. “I know, Tae. Why don’t we just lay here, yeah? You can get some sleep.”
When Jimin leans down and kisses the top of Taehyung’s head, Taehyung reaches between them and grabs the pillow, throwing it off the bed so he can scoot closer to Jimin. Only when their legs are tangled together and Jimin has one hand in Taehyung’s hair and the other on his back, does the younger boy seem comfortable.
“Go to sleep, Tae. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Taehyung nods, gently pressing a kiss to Jimin’s lips before hiding his face in Jimin’s neck. “No matter how you feel, you’re always a rascal.”
Taehyung’s laugh is a mere puff of air on Jimin’s neck, but it’s enough.
“When you wake up we can eat and maybe catch up on Hell’s Kitchen?” Taehyung squeezes him, and Jimin takes that as a yes.
“Goodnight, Taehyung,” Jimin says.
“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”
“I can’t really go anywhere with your octopus limbs around me, can I?” Taehyung pinches his side, and Jimin laughs. He grabs Taehyung’s hand and presses a kiss against his palm. “There’s no place I’d rather be, Tae.”
Taehyung presses a kiss against the side of Jimin’s neck, and he smiles. Jimin plays with Taehyung’s fingers and idly drags his fingers through his hair until the younger boy falls asleep.
Once Taehyung’s soundly asleep, Jimin takes the time to notice the punches of dark purple under his eyes, and the droopiness of his skin. Before his bath, Taehyung’s hair had been greasy and his clothes wrinkled, like maybe he hadn’t moved from his couch since the last time Jimin saw him a few days ago.
Taehyung is nowhere near healed, and maybe he never will be.
But they’re working on it.
Baby steps.