Work Text:
Taehyung had always been attracted to boys. Even before he understood what that meant, what it implied. When he was six he had wanted to follow Seonjae around and make him smile every chance he got, eagerly sharing the lunch his mother packed for him. When he was 10 he couldn’t understand why everyone found it weird that he didn’t like Jisoo like every other boy in his year because she was pretty and nice and sweet and there’s no reason for him not to like her. Maybe she just wasn’t his type. Maybe he just hadn’t found his type.
When he was 13 he realised all he wanted was to kiss Dowon the captain of the football team, enjoyed watching him play a little too much, jersey clinging to his body with sweat. He ran home from school in a panic. Suddenly all these weird feelings were rushing into his mind, into his chest, stuffing his insides full with confusion. He probably found his type.
It wasn’t until he was 15 that he told someone about it, scared, alone, desperate. His every limb was hurting because he was positive he was in love with Youngjae, handsome, tall, plays the guitar at the back of class during recess. He was sure now that this was it. He loves boys. He told Sonwoo, his best friend who for all his good heart didn’t tell him it was wrong, didn’t tell him to stop but told him that maybe he shouldn’t tell anyone else. So he didn’t.
Not again. Not until he was 17, moving to Seoul to become a trainee and became friends with Park Jimin who he was in love with for a little bit. But the feelings shifted, turned softer, turned into a comforting place, a shoulder to lean on. Jimin only smiled, called Taehyung his soulmate, told him they’ll be best friends forever. Jimin was gay too, a little in love with another trainee, Jungkook the golden one amongst them all, the one everyone was sure would make it no matter what.
The next 6 years for Taehyung was filled with heartache and heartbreak over countless number of boys. Boys he went to school with, loud, chaotic. Boys he met at music shows who were idols like him, beautiful on stage with their dancing and singing. Boys at the coffeeshops serving drinks and a smile. Boys on the metro that he saw for 3 stops and would never see again. Boys he never said anything to. Boys he kept inside his heart, inside his notebooks in lyrics, a jumble of words.
But here he was for the first time, obsessing over a girl. Oh Eunji was a producer, beautiful, petite. She could also sing, plays the violin. She was confident, vocal, assertive. And she was also the one Yoongi lets into his studio every day with a smile plastered on his face. The studio with a bolted door to everyone else.
Taehyung remembered the first time he met Yoongi. He was a trainee just like Taehyung but he seemed more experienced, more worldly. He seemed like he knew what he was doing unlike Taehyung who was still fumbling about. Yoongi was scary, quiet. It was like his words were really precious so he kept it a lot to himself, said only what was needed when it was needed like when one of the maknaes was acting out and Namjoon didn’t have the right tone to call them out for it.
Yoongi was scary. But underneath all that hard shell was a soft gummy smile, a fragile boy just as scared and unsure about his future as the rest of them. Yoongi was a lot of layers to peel, someone who made getting close and getting to know him a privilege. A privilege Taehyung clung to at first as a cure to homesickness, a piece of the town he left behind. At first it was as an older brother he never had, a cool older boy who talked about the world like he’d been through it twice over. Taehyung was caught up in his rhymes, his way with music, the way he talked about things around him. But then more like head spinning heart racing blood rushing to his face stupidly in love.
Now, the privilege of being close to Min Yoongi was extended to Eunji. It started when the woman was hired by the company about half a year ago, working on their new album. Namjoon and Yoongi worked a lot with her, the rest of them only politely greeting her when they see each other at the company between recordings, practice. She’s easy with her smiles when she has the energy for it. If not she’s at her worktable, headphones on, staring into the monitor, silent.
Which was maybe why Yoongi liked her, got close to her, let her get close to him. They were kind of the same. Worked hard to a fault sometimes. Brilliant but with heavy doubts. Shine when they choose. Repel people away when they choose.
Around the time they were promoting the first part of the series, Yoongi was working on the next album already, working with Eunji. They produced a song together. Just the two of them. Sometimes in different rooms on the same floor but sometimes in Yoongi’s studio behind the famous locked door, a fortress only few dare to infiltrate. One of the few was Jungkook who has a way of getting under Yoongi’s skin, a way of making Yoongi want to adopt him as a pet. Taehyung admired Jungkook for this.
So Jungkook was the first person he went to with his little problem, his new crush, or old crush that had been going on for at least three years now, depending on how you’re looking at it. Jungkook was first, of course only after Jimin who telepathically already knows all of Taehyung’s problems and non-problems.
He went to Jungkook, snuck into the youngest’s new studio, sighing loudly. He had been recording and just saw Eunji going into that godforsaken studio, his own personal hell.
“Kookie, how does one enter the lair of Yoongi-hyung?” he mumbled, spread out on Jungkook’s floor. The carpet burns a little but he didn’t mind. Could only feel his irregular heartbeat screaming for attention.
“There’s a doorbell?” Jungkook answered, hesitantly, unsure now if Taehyung even knew what a doorbell was, knew how to read. “It literally says to ring the bell.”
“Yes, but then what do you do?” Taehyung looked at him like he was expecting more from Jungkook, something more sagely, something like a secret to the universe, the answer to immortality.
“Tae, seriously, you just ring the bell, he answers the door, you tell him what you want. It’s just that,” Jungkook sighed, had decided to go back to the beats he was working on before Taehyung came in and interrupted him with cryptic questions about their hyung. “Why do you ask though?”
Taehyung blinked at the ceiling, let Jungkook’s question sink into his muscles, bang loudly at his skull. Why? Wasn’t that the million dollar question.
Why?
Because he would like to know what Yoongi does in there. Because he wanted to know what it’s like to be Eunji sitting in the room, what they talk about with each other. Because he wanted to know what it would be like to be able to be alone with Yoongi in his space like that, a space that was his.
“He’s working a lot with Eunji-noona lately, huh?” Taehyung quipped, seemingly changing the topic but the topic moved in his head so seamlessly.
“Yeah. He really likes her. He told me he likes working with her. They even went out to lunch together yesterday,” Jungkook mentioned the last part like it was big news. Because it probably was. Yoongi had barely been sleeping, eating. This wasn’t really the time he would leave work to go out and eat.
“It’s good that he’s eating,” Taehyung mumbled, brain a muddle of thoughts stuffy and weird and not altogether nice. He didn’t like the negativity creeping up his veins. He laid on the floor for a few more moments before sitting up. “I think I’m gonna go. It’s getting late. Yeontan’s gonna hate me.”
Yeontan hated being left alone for too long, already hated being sent to his parents while he was busy last month. So Taehyung got up, picked all the pieces of himself off of Jungkook’s floor and exited the room. “Don’t work too late, Kook.”
He didn’t hear what Jungkook replied with, already had the door closed behind him before he said anything.
He got back and showered and changed into his comfortable pyjamas. He went through his skincare routine, went through some of the text notifications on his phone, answered to less. Then he laid in bed, slumped into the mattress, feeling a little heavier every day.
This house is the biggest yet, almost too big. He couldn’t hear anyone else here. Before he could still pick up sounds of Namjoon moving around the room, waking up earlier than most of the members. He could pick up sounds from the kitchen, of someone having a late-night snack. He could hear the front door opening and closing with someone returning home late.
But he couldn’t hear any of that now, didn’t know if Yoongi was back yet, if he was still at the studio. Working. With Eunji.
His thoughts kept running back to her, wondering what is it about her that made her so lucky. He thought about her long hair, the illusive smile, the way her fingers drum against any surface they could find when she’s working. He thought about things she said that would make Yoongi laugh, if she was holding his hands.
Taehyung curled into the mattress, hugging a pillow tightly to try and gather his fleeting thoughts. His feelings were starting to get too heavy for his body.
It was a week later. They had dance practice. Practicing their choreography had gotten better throughout the years, taking less time, less work, less tears. They go through the routine easier than before even if this was a new song, moves that still needed work, needed to be worked on.
Their choreographer had called for a break. Everyone found a corner of the room to claim, sit down, lay back. Everyone except Hoseok and Jimin who were figuring out what they can make better, what they can do without.
Jungkook leaned against Taehyung, the sweat on their bodies sticking together and it was almost disgusting if Taehyung didn’t feel disgusting on his own already, never minded contact, the closeness. Jungkook offered him the water bottle in his hand, Taehyung didn’t hesitate to take it from him, parched.
Namjoon was close, one end of the earphone in his ear, probably still working on one of their tracks, never truly satisfied with his work. Jin was on the other side, his voice booming, laughing as he poked at Yoongi.
“Yah, what’s got you all smiling?” Jin asked. Everyone sort of turned to look but didn’t really pay it much mind. That’s normal, Jin teasing Yoongi mostly about nothing. But Taehyung didn’t look away, kept an eye on the two through the studio mirrors. He kept his eye on the reflection of Yoongi’s scowl as he bickered with Jin before smiling at his phone again. It was a small smile, barely noticeable, but apparent enough to warrant attention.
Taehyung didn’t get an answer to where the smile came from. But what he knew was that Yoongi left dance practice but didn’t go to his studio, didn’t come home.
He came back two hours later, another lingering smile. Jin was on him again, softer this time, tone kinder, less teasing.
“You had a good dinner?” the eldest asked from his spot on the living room sofa, sitting next to Taehyung.
“Yeah, I did,” was the only thing Taehyung heard about dinner for the night. Yoongi took his smile and his radiant expression upstairs and into his room.
Taehyung only found out over breakfast that he went out with Eunji, had dinner together and came back at 10pm, right after dance practice when Yoongi would like to take time to stretch out his limbs and sleep the tiredness off. But instead he went out, socialised, functioned like a regular person. With Eunji.
Taehyung felt a lump in his chest, rising up his throat, pushing through his airways, choking him. He felt like throwing up, his stomach queasy. He felt like his skin was tingling with a sickness he couldn’t describe. What he wanted to do was run, run away from the conversation, from his stupid thoughts, from his even more foolish feelings.
But he sat there quietly, willing himself not to mirror his emotions onto his face or say anything idiotic, anything bitter and hurtful, anything that would give himself away. He sat there quietly munching on his food over Hoseok being too bright already this early in the morning, over Jin stuffing food into his mouth in what would be at an alarming rate if they had never seen it before, over Jimin eyeing him from across the table because of course he knew what was going on in Taehyung’s tiny little brain that was connected to his.
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully, concern etched into the creases of his forehead, between his eyebrows after everyone left the dining table, getting ready to leave the house and attend their schedules for the day.
Are you okay? And Taehyung really couldn’t answer. Couldn’t lie to Jimin. Just felt the bile rising up his throat making him feel sick.
The awful thing about Yoongi is that he is very perceptive. And they’re close. Very close from all the living together for years thing, lived in a shoebox of a room with 5 other people for a time. There was no space, no time to not be close.
So Yoongi knew he wasn’t okay, could tell from just how less loud he was all the time, the way his shoulders slumped differently or something.
But Yoongi being Yoongi, he didn’t just come straight up to Taehyung asking him a question he already knew the answer to. Are you okay? It wasn’t because he was bad at feelings either, bad at talking about things intimately. He was just better at comforting the members in other ways, shows his love in small Min Yoongi ways.
So instead of asking Taehyung about it, making him talk about it like Jimin would, (Taehyung loved Jimin, really, love him with his whole heart and a little bit more) he handed Taehyung a can of Coke after their prerecording session for their third music show of the week. It was still so early. It was always too early and Taehyung was tired. He almost cried when Yoongi gave him the soda.
He managed a little “Thanks, hyung.”
He didn’t cry, thank god, just popped the can open and chugged it down. Yoongi jostled his shoulder a little with his own and then leaned against Taehyung. He let his head hang on Taehyung’s bony shoulder, hair brushing Taehyung's face. His eyes were already closing, preparing himself for a nap.
“Don’t work yourself too hard,” he mumbled, kept himself close, closer. He wiggled a little to get into a more comfortable position, adjust to the height. “Don’t keep things to yourself too much.”
Taehyung knew that in that weird Min Yoongi way, he was telling Taehyung to talk to him if he needed to. Or talk to someone. Because there had been times when Taehyung tried to work it out alone and everything just bubbled over, spilled all over him, flooded, drowned him.
So Yoongi was telling him to talk to him. But how was Taehyung supposed to tell Yoongi that he was what was bothering him. Not even really Yoongi as a person. Not even Eunji and how last weekend they spent a whole night at the studio together, if Taehyung wanted to be honest with himself. It was him, Taehyung. He was his own problem. Him and his stupid foolish ridiculous feelings that just wouldn’t go away, that was fine when it started a few years ago but had been significantly less fine lately.
“Okay,” he said to himself, Yoongi already out like a light. Okay. Maybe he’ll talk to Jimin about it, Jimin who he’d been avoiding because he knows Taehyung too well, knows Yoongi, would tell him to be happy for his hyung, or do something he should’ve done a year or two ago.
So, okay.
He talked to Jimin. Who told him exactly what he thought Jimin would because Taehyung knew him well too.
“I know you like him a lot,” Jimin said as they laid in his bed, careful and cautious, always avoiding the word ‘love’ out loud like a plague, afraid it might get too real. “But do you really want to come between that? He seems really happy.”
Taehyung grumbled, turned to squish his face further into Jimin’s side, hiding from the world in his best friend’s embrace and soft sheets.
“I don’t. I’m really happy for him,” Taehyung declared, hoping that it sounded sincere. Because it was true. He was happy. It was just that his heart wasn’t listening to his brain. Or was it the other way around? What he was sure of was that one part of his body wasn’t really cooperating with the rest of him and it’s not good. It needed to catch up soon. “It’s just that I don’t know how to stop it from feeling so sucky.”
Taehyung let out another whine, tossed himself around in the bed until Hoseok walked into the room that was half his. It wasn’t that Taehyung didn’t like talking to his hyung, he just didn’t want for word of his Crush to spread around. Jimin’s bound to him by blood so he really couldn’t spill anything about it even if he wanted to. And Hoseok is much closer to Yoongi, was close to Yoongi from the start.
“You alright, Tae?” Hoseok asked, moving close to pet his hair, concern, worry dripping from his words to his fingers into Taehyung’s head. “You look like a mess.”
Taehyung grumbled, whined, tossed and turned. He looked up at Hoseok with a pout on his lips, not knowing what to say but would love more of Hoseok’s soft touches and bright smiles.
“You’re not sick, are you?” Hoseok asked, alarmed, hand already at his forehead to check his temperature, worrying worrying worrying.
Taehyung quickly shook his head, hated how a frown looks on Hoseok’s face, bringing everything, the world, the light down with it.
“Just a lot of things in my head,” Taehyung admitted vaguely, tried to muster a semblance of a smile. It helped wipe off the frown, bring the light back. Hoseok bent down and reached his forehead with his lips, knowing exactly what Taehyung needed.
“Okay. But don’t let it get too much,” he warned warmly, softly. Then he went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, left Taehyung with Jimin to cuddle a little more until his chest didn’t feel so full, so heavy to carry around.
They were leaving for Japan, a few shows, just over a week. They were packing and getting ready, running around the house looking for things, bothering each other for the sake of it. When the doorbell rang and Taehyung went to answer.
On the other side was Eunji, height coming to his shoulders but presence almost as tall as him. She smiled a crooked half-smile like she didn’t really know how to control her facial features. She looked pretty even with her hair in a high ponytail, strands messy around her face, in a jeans, t-shirt and a grey coat.
Taehyung’s heart was scrambling too much that he couldn’t properly greet her, decency lost to his slow brain, messy feelings.
So she spoke up first, “Hey, I’m sorry to barge in like this but Yoongi lent me his things and I promised to return them before he leaves. Is he in?”
He blinked at her, once, twice. Braincells finally coming back together.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled quickly, bowed apologetically, found half of his smile, the other half still tugged down to his chest. “He’s still out but I think he’s on his way back.”
Then he paused, a little slower, a little reluctant because he wasn’t sure if he could be within Eunji’s proximity for too long.
“Do you want to wait for him?” he asked, heart in his throat, thumb gesturing towards the living room.
She smiled, a little shy.
“Do you mind?”
Did he mind? Maybe, just a little, a lot. But he couldn’t say that. His mother actually thought him some manners, raised him properly. So no, he did not mind, not technically. He moved a little from the doorway to let her in, let her pass him, took her into the chaotic household.
“Sorry everything’s a little bit of a mess. I think Jungkook was looking for something just now,” he made an excuse for the sofa cushions that were slightly out of place. Jungkook had been screaming around the apartment, asking if anyone had seen his blue speakers, because he couldn’t bring the other one to Japan, god forbid.
“It’s fine,” she brushed it off, chuckled lightly, the sound coursing through Taehyung’s nerves. He was completely in over his head. He really hoped Yoongi would get back soon. Or one of the other members would come in an interrupt them, join them, take away some of Taehyung’s burden.
But Jin only passed by quickly, waved a fleeting greeting, apologising for not being able to stay and talk as he was already leaving.
It was 15 minutes, maybe 25, felt like an hour, a little longer. Taehyung tried to fill it with casual conversation, asked her about the weather, about where she came from, asked how work was for her. He talked and hoped she didn’t see how much he was struggling, how much he was burning up inside out being around her.
Then Yoongi came, grumpily walked through the front door, took a few moments before he noticed Eunji sitting in the middle of their apartment. He looked startled at first, jaw hanging open by a few degrees, then just as quickly, a smile spread across his face, spread like the rising sun.
“Oh, hey, you’re here,” he said as he walked closer, stood a little awkwardly at the side of the sofa like he wasn’t used to his limbs just yet. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”
“Oh, no. It’s fine. Taehyung was keeping me company,” she assured, smile a little wider, brighter, prettier prettier prettier. She placed a friendly hand on Taehyung’s arm, more proof that it was fine, that they had a nice conversation while she waited, that it wasn’t like Taehyung was slowly counting the passing seconds for it to end and he could breathe again, would stop looking at her and wondering what made her so perfect.
“Cool,” Yoongi nodded and seemed to fidget a little with his thumb and nails. “Uh, do you want to go to my room?”
“Yeah, sure,” she answered, getting up, gave Taehyung a consolatory wave goodbye and followed Yoongi upstairs and into his room. It did not make him feel better. Only made him feel worse. He started counting down the minutes again, wondering what they could be doing, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 40 minutes, before she left, closing the front door behind her, taking pieces of Taehyung’s heart with her.
There were not a lot of nights they could get drunk and just relax, let loose, let go. There were not a lot of nights Taehyung would let the burn of alcohol drown his veins, buzz through his systems in a low hum, making him just giddy enough.
It was a warm night. They were celebrating one thing or another, a new album, a win, someone’s birthday. Everything always overlaps, time moving around in circles, fast, back and forth. Taehyung found himself that night throwing back shots of soju to the cheers of the others, let their laughter and smiles and brightness intoxicate him at the same time as the alcohol.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” someone said after the buzz turned into a louder thumping in his head, was getting more than bearable. So Taehyung let himself be carried from the chaos of the rooftop terrace into the warmer air inside the house, let whoever it was hold onto him, arm secured around his waist propping him up, his own legs betraying him.
He heard a chuckle, quiet, breathless, felt it more than heard it vibrate his chest as he leaned heavier against the human prop, let his head loll over. His eyes landed on a patch of pale skin, a neck, maybe. His nose could smell the alcohol on the skin, or did it come from him. Everything was hazy. But he was a little more aware of the large palm warm against his body even through the layer of clothes, aware that it was Yoongi. His heart skittered around his chest, fluttered, harder, bustled. But it was nice. Everything was nice in the clouded fog of his mind.
Taehyung couldn’t remember why he should feel bad for it, feel guilty that he didn’t want to stop feeling sensing breathing Yoongi in his everything.
When Yoongi laid him down on his bed, he was careful, caring, tucked Taehyung into his blankets, the air-conditioning in the room leaving it cool. Taehyung curled into the warm covers, into the mattress, feeling himself drift off, mind too fuzzy to think.
“I love you, hyung,” he whispered, unsure if Yoongi heard, if he was still in the room, if he could tell that Taehyung meant it differently this one time from all the times he’d said those exact words before. This time there was no platonic filter, no silent longing. This time it was all there, bare, unadulterated.
Taehyung woke up the next day with a massive headache anchoring his skull to the pillow and fragmented memories of forbidden thoughts and clumsy I-love-yous. He couldn’t tell which was worst, which one had him wanting to throw up the entire content of his stomach, lungs and heart. One of the problems was solved by the mysterious glass of water and aspirin sitting on the drawer next to his bed. He didn’t want to think of the possibilities of who left it there, would rather not entertain his stupid thoughts.
It could’ve been any of the hyungs, or even Jimin or Jungkook. It could’ve been Jin who came into his room an hour later with promises of haejangguk and more cuddles. He couldn’t resist. He left the sweet temptations of his warm bed for sweeter temptations in the kitchen.
But when he saw Yoongi passing the dining table, all Taehyung wanted to do was flee, run, hide from Yoongi. He couldn’t bare facing Yoongi, not yet, not now, not like this, maybe not ever. So he ducked his head as he finished the last few spoons of the soup and ran past Namjoon on his way back to his room.
He continued to avoid Yoongi for the rest of the day and the next, hoping that it was only until his heart calmed down again, was okay again. Because he was okay.
Some days he still found his mind wondering into darker, shady thoughts. But most of the time he was happy, learned to accept it, told himself that he was happy for Yoongi. Most days he would smile, listen, tease Yoongi with the other members. Most days he was okay, the feelings simmering down to a gentle tide. Most days he didn’t obsess over everything that Eunji was that he wasn’t, will never be. Most days he was okay.
But now wasn’t one of those days, his feelings coming in hard, large waves. So he hid away, evaded Yoongi like his life depended on it. Which wasn’t too hard since Yoongi’s mostly in his studio.
Until it wasn’t so easy anymore, until Yoongi had noticed, was actively hunting him out. But his heart was still a mess, thoughts tainted with ugly longing and he couldn’t, wouldn’t. Dodging Yoongi became a game he played.
But Yoongi was a good player, managed to corner him finally almost a week later, in the kitchen, the only way to run was to squeeze himself through between the counter and Yoongi’s body. It was a nightmare.
“What the hell, Tae?” Yoongi muttered, eyes serious, sharp, a little tired. He breathed in another gulp of air, kept his gaze heavy on Taehyung. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
Taehyung’s first instinct was to lie, bold and flat. “I haven’t.”
“Taehyung, please. You literally run away when you see me coming,” Yoongi accused, because the awful thing about him was that he was perceptive. But then again even a blind person would’ve noticed Taehyung avoiding Yoongi. He wasn’t good at hiding it.
“I don’t,” Taehyung mumbled, pouted, avoided Yoongi’s stare, eyes searching the floor because he didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to tell the truth without telling all of it, ruining everything.
“For fuck’s sake, don’t lie to me,” Yoongi hissed, trying to keep his voice down, didn’t want to yell, but couldn’t keep his jaw from clenching, keeping the anger from taking over, the frustration. And then softer softer softer, “please tell me what I did.”
The please now begging, not sarcastic, far from cynical. The please tugged at Taehyung’s heart strings. And Yoongi was reaching for him, hand moving to hold onto his because that was what he promised, carelessly and never really meant to keep it as a promise. But he promised and so he was holding Taehyung’s hand. His head dropped forward, tired, exhausted, confused.
“What did I do?”
And it hurt more, made everything hurt a little bit more than Taehyung thought was possible. He never wanted to make Yoongi feel bad, feel sorry for something he hadn’t done, something that wasn’t his fault. It pressed onto his chest, the guilt, the weight of Yoongi’s fingers lacing with his, the quiet whispering of Yoongi’s words. It pushed down, pushed hard, pushed all the silly feelings, wrong words out of his mouth.
“I love you,” he said, didn’t even register it himself.
Yoongi looked up again, looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, lips frowning, confused.
“I know that. But what’s wrong?” He looked at Taehyung like a math equation he couldn’t possibly even begin to solve.
Taehyung shook his head, inhaled a sharp gust of air, sighed. He already said it. He already said it so he might as well let it all out, tell the whole truth, commit to this path he was already on.
“I love you, hyung. Like my heart hurts, feels tight. And I don’t know how to be around you right now. I love you,” he breathed, vomited, threw the words at Yoongi’s face. He didn’t realise he was crying, didn’t notice the tears falling until the sobs were wrecking his chest and Yoongi had pulled his hand out of his hold.
I love you I love you I love you, the words echoed as he ran again, ran away from Yoongi, ran into his room and planned to never come out.
There were countless knocks on his door, pleading and begging him to open, let them in, let them make it okay, better. The knocks grew loud, irregular and then lesser and lesser. It stopped after a while. Or maybe it was just Taehyung being deaf to the sounds because he fell asleep, weighed down by his emotions, tears.
When he woke up again it was late, the sky framed by his open window dark. The clock said 2am. He pulled the pillow closer to his chest, let it absorb the tremors of his limbs, his heart. His tears had dried, the last of it staining his face. He didn’t want to move.
But he was starting to get thirsty, a little hungry, cold and lonely. He found his phone, saw the many text messages clogging his screen, ignored each one of them. Then he sent a message to Jimin, hoping he was still awake, willing to bring some water and his arms for warm cuddles.
Jimin was awake, thankfully. Or maybe he woke up. Taehyung didn’t know. But he came in a few minutes later with a bottle of water, a cup of ramen and a tight bone-crushing hug.
“You okay?” he mumbled into Taehyung’s hair, didn’t want to let him go.
Taehyung just nodded, couldn’t find his voice, afraid he might cry again.
Jimin didn’t say anything more, let him eat in silence and then they moved together to his bed and Jimin held him close to his chest, let him hear the regular beatings of his heart, promises that it’ll be okay. He didn’t say anything until a lot later when it seemed like neither of them were going to fall asleep.
“Taetae, you need to talk to Yoongi-hyung. He’s really–” Jimin didn’t get to finish his sentence because Taehyung had already latched his large hand over his mouth, the rest of it coming out as muffled noises.
“Can we not talk about it?” he asked, begged, heart large, heavy, swollen. He squeezed his eyes shut, squeezed it to get the rest of the words out of his mouth, head, heart. “I can’t.”
Jimin sighed against his palm but nodded, understanding, always willing to accommodate to Taehyung.
“Okay,” he said again just to confirm, reassure, wrapped his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders again.
The house was quiet the next day, silent, a little lifeless. Taehyung found himself brave enough to leave the comforts of his room, okay enough to stand on his feet.
He didn’t see Yoongi, didn’t hear him. Everyone else was barely there too. They moved around him, smiled politely, talked to him, but at the same time not really. They didn’t know what to say, what to do except to pretend that everything was fine.
Namjoon and Jungkook brought dinner back with them, sat with Taehyung. Then Jin came back, sitting in front of the tv playing games. Hoseok came back a bit later, working on something, growing more comfortable with making music by himself. It was midnight. Still no sight of Yoongi.
Taehyung didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed or regretting it all. He just felt a little hollow.
Monday they had practice together, he knew he would have to see Yoongi now, forced to say something, forced to address the huge ass elephant in the middle of the room. It had been three days.
But Yoongi came in just as they were about to start, stayed only long enough for his parts, stayed as little as he could and didn’t even look at Taehyung. Then he was gone before the first taste of sorry appeared on Taehyung’s tongue.
This was exactly what he was afraid of, terrified of losing Yoongi. It seemed like everything was crumbling, faltering at the seams, leaking through his fingers. He couldn’t catch all the pieces, hold them together anymore.
He kind of wished Yoongi would at least yell at him, get mad at him, for someone to say something anything. The silence was too loud, piercing his skin. He hated it.
They continued to pretend, Yoongi continued to be quiet, Taehyung continued to break and unravel and fall apart each time. It’s worst when they were all together, when they were working or having a meal or just being in the same house because goddammit sometimes it’s like they don’t even live together anymore. It was worst when Yoongi’s so close but felt so far away, so far away from his reach.
It went on for a week, two. People started to forget they were pretending, that there was the whole elephant in the room. They started to forget, started to feel like it was the normal now. This was how they were going to continue living as a group, work together with everyone pretending like Taehyung never broke down confessing to another member and they never talked to each other again.
Taehyung went into the company, smiled like it didn’t hurt, greeting Eunji some days like everything was fine.
It was three weeks. Three excruciating weeks of slow silence and numbing pain when Yoongi found Taehyung in the lounge, during a break in recording. Suddenly the pretence was starting to crack when Yoongi took a seat next to him, so close, so so close Taehyung could feel his body heat.
He just turned towards Yoongi, mouth hanging open, surprised, stunned, couldn’t believe that this was happening. No one else was there. They didn’t have to pretend. So why was Yoongi here?
“Hey, you busy?” he asked, blinking back at Taehyung, slightly uncomfortable. Taehyung could tell by how he was fidgeting with his fingers even if his voice was steady.
“Not really,” Taehyung shook his head, spinning, wondering where Yoongi was taking this.
“Can we talk in my studio?” Oh. Oh.
He was being invited into Yoongi’s private lair, going straight into the lion’s den, to (what) talk (?). Taehyung just nodded because he couldn’t say no. His body felt alive again, missed the feeling of not feeling invisible to Yoongi. Just wanted a chance to say sorry, to take it back, to just have Yoongi back like he used to.
Taehyung followed Yoongi as he shuffled across the floor, punched the code to the lock and into his studio. Taehyung took the sofa while Yoongi hovered at the chair near his desk, decided against it, sitting down next to Taehyung instead. But he didn’t look up, continued to stay quiet for a few more minutes.
Taehyung broke first.
“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Taehyung spoke up, softly, quietly, swallowing all of his words and the tightness in his chest. “I’m sorry about what I said. I’m sorry I avoided you. I said I didn’t know how to be around you, but it’s worst when I’m not.”
Yoongi finally reacted, not really saying something. He just shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back and then having them flop into his face again. He sighed, deep and heavy.
“Don’t be sorry. You don’t have a reason to be,” he murmured, always so careful with his precious words.
“But I am. I do. I said all those stupid things and ruined everything,” Taehyung insisted, persisted, knew that it was his fault for all the feelings and his stupid mouth running quicker than he could keep up with.
“Don’t apologise. Please?” he asked like Taehyung would be the one doing him the favour. “You shouldn’t apologise for how you feel. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you should apologise for how you feel, okay? Not even me.”
Yoongi seemed mad but Taehyung couldn’t understand, could only nod because he won’t argue with an irritated Min Yoongi.
“I should’ve said something sooner. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you did something wrong. Because you didn’t. You told me how you felt and that’s not easy. I mean, I’ve been doing a bang up job about it for the last few weeks.” Yoongi was rambling, hands moving about more than they usually do and Taehyung was finding it really hard to comprehend, could only hear his last two braincells screaming what is happening to each other.
“You said you didn’t know how to be around me and I thought you needed space. But Tae, I’m tired of going around it. It’s hard not having you around. I want you– I want you close to me again.” And Yoongi was looking at him suddenly, eyes a little wider, pupils blown, looking like he was expecting something from Taehyung. WHAT WAS HAPPENING???
“What?” was the only thing that came out. It was a start.
“Tae, I like you. I really like you,” he huffed out in a whisper. And then he got bolder, moved closer, fingertips almost brushing Taehyung’s hand, almost, but Taehyung can feel them against his knuckles already. “You mean a lot to me.”
“Hyung, you don’t have to say it. It’s okay,” Taehyung assured with heavy breaths, a heavy heart. Of course he knew Yoongi likes him. Yoongi despite how he sometimes acts, likes everyone in the group, because he has a soft heart protected underneath all the hard exterior. But Yoongi didn’t have to say all these just because Taehyung decided to say something stupid, didn’t have to make it hurt more.
“Tae, look at me,” he demanded, not without kindness, but there’s a strength to the words. His fingers finally reached Taehyung’s, clasping their hands together. Taehyung looked up again, heart beating like a hurricane, up at Yoongi looking upset, pained. “I really do like you. And I– You know how bad I am at words.”
This was a joke because obviously Yoongi’s very good at words, at least tied at first place with Namjoon at being good at words. Taehyung might argue he’s the best at words in the whole universe.
“I probably should’ve said it sooner. At least when you told me how you feel. Or you know, a year ago or something. I’ve been carrying around this crush for too long and I’m– It’s ridiculous really,” Yoongi let out, released a puff of air, ruffling the strands covering his forehead. He let out a nervous chuckle that settled at his diaphragm.
“Wait, what crush? Hyung, if this is a joke, I’d rather you just stop.” Taehyung’s heart couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle it.
“Tae-ah, I’d never do something so cruel. You trust me, right?” Yoongi looked so vulnerable, so broken and bare and Taehyung could only squeeze his hand a little harder. He nodded. Because he did trust Yoongi, trusted him with his life, trusted him since they started all this.
“But you’re with Eunji-noona,” Taehyung quipped, remembered why things had been so messy, why everything had been so hard.
Yoongi shook his head.
“I was. But I’m not anymore. We haven’t been together for a while now,” he admitted and Taehyung felt something lift from his chest, breathing a little easier, jittery instead.
“But you were still going out last month. And hyungs were teasing you about it.” Taehyung wasn’t so quick to believe all of it just yet, not prepared to imagine what was going to happen, what was already happening.
“Seokjin-hyung and Hoseokie just enjoy teasing me because I’m an easy target. We’re just friends. I still like talking to her and everything. But the dating part didn’t really work out.” Yoongi looked a little sad about it, regretful, but it didn’t last long. Then he was looking up at Taehyung again, expectantly. “It’s been you, Taehyung. It’s been you for a long time now. I was just too scared to do anything about it. It felt easier to ignore it. But I don’t want to anymore.”
“Are you sure?” The hope twisted Taehyung’s heart, released giant-sized butterflies in his stomach.
“Yeah, Tae. I’m sure,” Yoongi said, looked so sure, looked as badly as Taehyung felt.
Taehyung lunged forward, buried his face in Yoongi’s chest, felt a rush of air huff out of his lungs upon impact. Taehyung wrapped his arms around Yoongi, held as tightly as he could, afraid if he didn’t, everything would disappear, that the moment will evaporate, needed to feel Yoongi’s solid body for it to feel real.
“I love you, hyung” he mumbled into Yoongi, hoped it reached closer to Yoongi’s centre like that, couldn’t help the tears staining the front of Yoongi’s shirt. Slowly he felt Yoongi’s arms around him too, pulling him impossibly closer, pulling him into everything that Yoongi was, lips soft against his hairline.
Then his hand moved up Taehyung’s spine, traced the bumps and ridges, tickled the back of his neck, fingers running through the hair at his nape. Yoongi pulled him back carefully, slowly, pulled him only enough to have their eyes levelled, Yoongi’s heavy with something he didn’t know. He looked at Taehyung like he was seeing him for the first time, like he didn’t know where to take it, or maybe he did because his eyes dropped to Taehyung’s lips and Taehyung had to bite back the different kind of heaviness in his chest.
“Can I?” Careful, careful, careful. Taehyung nodded, didn’t know if he could say anything else, if he could stop Yoongi from taking anything he wanted, his lips, his tongue, a part of his heart.
Yoongi took all of it slowly, moved towards Taehyung tentatively, calculated, eyes taking in every single twitch Taehyung’s nerves made to make that he was okay, that this was okay. The first touch was soft, like the puddle of melted heart at the bottom of Taehyung’s chest. Yoongi’s lips felt how they looked, soft soft soft.
It was chaste, slow but Taehyung was already dizzy from all the wait, the longing, the years of pushing this exact moment to the back of his imagination, afraid that it’ll take too much of him. He sighed against Yoongi’s lips and it broke something, made Yoongi press in a little harder, taking more and more of him, take what he could get, his hand clutching Taehyung’s hair, the other grasping at his waist.
They broke the kiss a few times, taking quick breaths of air before finding each other again, like both of them had been waiting for this for too long to waste even a moment of it doing silly things like breathing oxygen when they could just breathe each other in.
At some point Yoongi pulled back. Taehyung didn’t know how long they had been making out, time messy in his head with the rest of his thoughts, could only feel his swollen lips.
Yoongi leaned into his neck, laid his forehead there like he’s tired already, spent, but hand still holding on to Taehyung’s neck like it was the only thing keeping him up, steady. He breathed into Taehyung’s skin, exciting his nerves.
“I feel really stupid now,” Yoongi mumbled, loose breathless chuckles leaving his throat.
“Why?” Taehyung asked, suddenly nervous, still so afraid that this was all a dream.
“I could’ve had this sooner if I wasn’t such a coward,” he replied, the laughter growing bigger. “Goddammit, Kim Taehyung, you’re really something else.”
And Taehyung felt his face break, lips bursted into a large smile. His facial muscles hadn’t had to work this hard in some time. He smiled, laughed a little too.
“I love you, hyung,” he said it again because it was getting addictive, the taste sweet on his lips, the words bubbling over from being kept to himself for too long. “I love you.”
“I do, too.” Yoongi’s precious words, still so careful, always so careful, only for him. It was his privilege.
Things didn’t change much, not much from before the whole avoiding each other fiasco. Things settled down again, the whole house breathed a little easier. Even their manager seemed a little less tense. Or maybe it was just Taehyung, probably just him.
Things changed in smaller ways, however. It changed with Yoongi holding his hands a lot more often, searching for his touch a little more eagerly, a little less subtly. He would hold more than Taehyung’s hands, leaned into his larger frame when he’s tired, used it as his personal charging dock. Yoongi smiled at him more, a little wider, softer, a little something else too sometimes, darker.
They kiss. They kissed whenever they could, sneakily after practice, privately in Yoongi’s studio, in their rooms back at the house or in the kitchen if they feel like tormenting Jungkook a little. Other times they do more than kiss, started all shy, a little clumsy but soon all too familiar.
And late at night, Yoongi liked to sneak into Taehyung’s room. At 2am, returning from the studio, crawling into Taehyung’s covers, burying his face into the latter’s chest and holding on to him till morning.
Mostly the heaviness changed. Instead of the weight pressing down on Taehyung’s chest, it disappeared, replaced by a fullness that came from the inside, bloomed from his core, pushed his heart to become bigger bigger bigger, made him feel loved.