Work Text:
“So, listen. I love the song, but I’m thinking it’s best if we leave it with you two on vocals - as is.”
“...Sorry?”
The PD holds his hands up, a smile on his face, “Your voices work well together! It’s simple, it’s sweet - I don’t think we need to bring Jimin in on it.”
With a confused laugh, Taehyung can’t help but attempt to clarify, “But I - we wrote it for Jimin and I.”
“Well, with this kind of song, it just… works better with a man and a woman’s voices, right?” The PD glances back and forth between Taehyung and Adora, whose eyebrows are inching closer to her hairline every passing second. There’s a solid five seconds silence, before Taehyung simply repeats, “Sorry?”
“I think Taehyung really-” Adora launches in, before the PD interrupts.
“This is a great opportunity for you,” he says to her, before addressing them both, “and your voices sound good together - I’ll run it by Bang and see what he thinks. But really, good job, guys.” He nods, before swivelling back around to face his computer and start typing up an email.
“Oh. OK, well, thank you.” Taehyung offers to the PD’s back, receiving a distracted “Yeah, thanks!” in response. He turns to Adora, who mouths “Do we go?” at him. He shrugs an ‘I guess,’ and they pack up their things in silence, and exit.
In the hallway, the closed studio door a few metres behind them, she reaches out, her hand stopping a few inches from his elbow.
“Taehyung, I’m sorry.’
He’d started writing the song after a group dinner.
Taehyung is not not tipsy, lax and loose in his chair. His collar’s been annoying him for 30 minutes. He unbuttons it.
“You’ve written one for everyone else, hyung, why not me?” Jimin’s whine draws everyone’s attention. It might be Pavlovian at this stage.
“First of all,” Yoongi points one finger in the air, “that’s absolutely not true, and b. you don’t know what I’m working on.”
Jimin leans in excitedly, before a confused Namjoon whispers far too loudly to Yoongi, “You’re not working on anything for Jimin right now? We’re-” he shuts up with a whimper, clutching his leg under the table.
“Ignore him, Jimin, he’s drunk.” Yoongi advises.
“Absolutely,” Namjoon soberly agrees, crying to the ceiling, “God, why did you have to make me so irresponsible?!”
Jimin looks between them, before pouting. “Well someone had better write me a song.”
“Write your own.” This from Jeongguk.
“Don’t you tell me what to do-”
“Well if you’re not gonna stop complaining about it-”
“Not everyone can be good at everything, asshole!”
“Why are you saying that like an insult!? It’s not my fault I’m… like, good… at stuff!”
“Oh, so you agree?” Jimin’s voice has gone up half an octave, “You’re good at everything?”
Jeongguk leans forward across the table, forcing Seokjin to snatch his chicken up protectively, demanding “So what if I do?!”
Taehyung’s glass is half raised to his mouth when he feels what could possibly be demonic possession overcome him.
“I’ll write a song for you, Jimin.”
Jimin’s eyes shoot to him, surprised. “You will?”
Jeongguk mutters, “What, like 4 o’clock wasn’t - ow? What the fuck, Jin?”
“You will?” Namjoon and Yoongi repeat together, Yoongi’s sceptical and Namjoon’s like an affirmation. Taehyung appreciates Namjoon’s faith but honestly, he’s verging on Team Yoongi right now.
“Yep!” Taehyung’s voice cracks. Weird. He gulps at his drink. “Sure!” He takes another gulp. Hoseok is staring at him, clearly concerned. “You OK there, buddy?”
“Yep!” He raises his glass in Hoseok’s direction, energetically tipping it to his mouth before realising it’s empty. He places it down on the table, and pats it gently.
Hoseok narrows his eyes. “Huh. Cool.”
“Tae, Taehyung, Tae,” Jimin wheedles, “Is it going to be the best song in the world? Tell me it’s going to be the best song in the world, Taehyungie.”
The demon might be lurking in Jimin’s smile lines. Taehyung gulps again, this time on air, making him burp and cough simultaneously before sticking the landing and grandly proclaiming, “Uh, duh! As if I would give you anything less!”
Taehyung has made a huge mistake. Granted, what he classes as a huge mistake might not normally be what others would class as a huge mistake, but shit’s relative.
What is important is that he has very little time on his hands, and a very lot of song to write for his best friend slash soulmate (according to one slightly, Taehyung can admit, overeager post-it note at a fanmeet.)
What on earth was he thinking, promising The Best Song in the World. He’s not a wizard. He’s not even a magician. Forget about it - he’s not even a birthday clown. He can make, like, one balloon animal, and even then it’s just a really pretentious snake.
The Best Song in the World. The Best Song in the World for the Best Boy in the World.
He throws his pen at the door, stares at it, stands up to pick it off the floor, then decides to join it instead. Maybe the change in air pressure will do him good.
He lies down face-first on the carpet. It’s good carpet, too.
Best Song. Best Boy. Best Song. Best Boy. Best Song for Jimin, the self-proclaimed Best Boy (not that Taehyung disagrees) because he’s great, and deserves the Best Song, and sometimes he makes Taehyung great too. Maybe this is one of those times, he thinks excitedly. Maybe he just needs some… some Jiminspiration to prosper! He tends to be better around Jimin, who somehow manages to drag him up out of... well. Anything.
When he thinks about it, which he does very regularly, he doesn’t remember any situation that Jimin hasn’t managed to improve in some way, shape or form. Taehyung’s never stopped being impressed by it. He even wrote a sappy letter about it, on their second Bon Voyage. Yes, he cried, and no, he’s not embarrassed. After at least a year of rationalising, he blames it on the fact that fuck, sure, they were on ‘holiday’, but that shit was exhausting! Stuff gets heightened when you’re tired, and friendship is beautiful, and they were on a boat, and there’s nothing wrong with crying anyway.
Right. Jimin. Ji-min. Ji-min. He can do this. Jimin. JiminJiminJimin. What does he think about Jimin.
A lot of things. Good things, mostly. Best friend, obviously (even if it was a tier, Jimin still stood an inch above the rest. Metaphorically).
The kindest, most thoughtful. Clever, funny, cute. Good dancer, a weird kind of sexy that withstood even the terrible things Taehyung had seen, smelt and heard. Generous. Cheeks for days. An ass that would give all of Sistar a run for their money. But all of that, while not entirely surface level, just wasn’t enough to write a song about.
Who said the song had to be about him, again? Isn’t it just for him to sing?
Taehyung shakes that out of his head, along with his hair out of his eyes, grabbing a bobby pin he’s found on the floor to pin his fringe back. Jimin deserves a song about him and for him. Taehyung can multitask and so can this song.
What does he think of, when he thinks of Jimin. Jimin and him. Who is Jimin to him. What makes Jimin Taehyung’s Jimin.
Christmas.
Taehyung can feel the light bulb appear above his head. Christmas!
Christmas is kind of his and Jimin’s thing. Taehyung can remember four Christmases ago. Jimin and him sprawled out on the lumpy couch under a couple of thin blankets, fan heater turned on full blast, watching a Christmas movie. It was something romantic so Taehyung was already feeling misty eyed, even before a scene with a real showstopper of a dog. The two leads were wandering through a Christmas market, lights sparkling in their eyes as they gaze at each other, and Jimin interrupted to say, “Do we even have a Christmas market, here?”
Taehyung sniffs, wiping his watering eyes, “It’s Seoul, Jimin. We have everything!”
“Sorry!” Jimin raises his hands in front of himself, disturbing the blankets. “Didn’t know you were the new Seoul Tourism Manager…”
Taehyung glares.
“It looks nice.” Jimin observes. Taehyung hums in agreement, turning his attention back to the movie.
“I’m gonna Naver it.” Jimin announces, and starts tapping on his phone. “There is one! Oh, it’s closing in a week. Do we have any time off this week?” Taehyung isn’t sure if he’s talking to himself or to him as he continues scrolling, presumably through his Calendar app. “We could go after filming tomorrow night?”
Taehyung blinks. Sleep is precious, but the look on Jimin's face when he get what he wants is pretty good too. “Uhhh… sure?”
Jimin’s face brightens. “Awesome! It’s a - it’s a plan.” Yanking his sleeves down over his fingers, he turns back to the TV. Taehyung takes in the pleased smile on his face for a few moments longer, before doing the same.
The next night, when they arrive at the market, the lost hours of sleep are made almost worth it as soon as they spot the kkwabaegi stand. Grabbing one each for now, they wander round the stalls.
“Fuck!” Jimin swears. “Hold my donut!” Taehyung obliges. “It’s so fucking freezing! Whose goddamn idea was this anyway?” He’s breathing hot air into his cupped hands, his lips and cheeks pinker than ever. Taehyung can’t help but think that Jimin’s lip exfoliation routine is really paying off.
He doesn’t dignify Jimin’s complaints with a response, rather reaching into his backpack to grab a spare pair of gloves and press them straight onto Jimin’s complaining face.
Jimin is silent, before asking drily, “Are you trying to smother me?”
Taehyung is aghast. “It’s Christmas! Oh, ye of little faith! Of all the public holidays to murder on…” He tuts, before ordering, “Now put on the gloves.”
Jimin swipes them from Taehyung’s hand and pulls them on with a grin. “I wasn’t complaining - better that than freezing my ass to death.” He waves his little woolly hands in Taehyung’s face. “Happy?”
“Are you?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows, in his best impression of his mother. Jimin’s never met his mother, but he’s hoping it’s a universal experience.
Jimin laughs, “Are you?”
“Are you?”
“Yes!” Jimin looks up to meet Taehyung’s gaze, in an odd moment of sincerity. “I am.”
Taehyung forgets to control the smile spreading across his face. “Good. Me too.”
They stand there for a second, eyes locked, before Jimin whacks Taehyung’s butt with his foot.
“What’s next?”
They walk, and walk, and walk. After the donuts are gone, then comes the tteokbokki, then the steamed buns. Taehyung’s so full, but unable to help grabbing Jimin by the wrist and dragging him to stall after stall, until -
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
Right in front of them is a maypole of sorts, at the centre of at least 50 strings of lights, all leading up to the motherload of Christmas spirit, a 30 foot Christmas tree. It’s dazzling with flashing fairy lights, which bounce off the masses of decorations heaped upon its boughs.
“Now that’s Christmas.” Jimin breathes. Taehyung looks out of the corner of his eye, to see Jimin’s face illuminated. There’s a tug in his chest. Indigestion, he thinks. Must’ve been the steamed buns. Taehyung gently nudges Jimin’s shoulder with his own, before stepping forward towards the tree, keen to get a closer look. He turns around to beckon Jimin forward with a jerk of his head. A slow smile spreads across Jimin’s face, the lights dancing in his eyes like they’re decorations themselves.
As it turns out, he has plenty of thoughts about Jimin and Christmas and him. Him and Jimin and Christmas. Christmas and him and Jimin. If anything he has too many. He’s got the seedlings of about five songs in his brain, aching to be scribbled on a scrap piece of paper or tapped into the Notes app on his phone. Little refrains about being nobody to anyone but Jimin as they make their way through the crowded market, or the mixture of excitement and nervousness he gets when handing over his present to Jimin, because he always wants his gifts to say something. Sometimes he’s not even sure what until he gives it, but Jimin’s never misunderstood yet. Some snatches of the odd clench in his chest when Jimin’s smile spreads to his eyes, his rosy cheeks in the cold, when his smile spreads to Taehyung and he can feel it on his own face and in the tips of his toes.
It’s not that the feeling is exclusive to Christmas, but Taehyung can’t be blamed for letting himself revel in it a little more, once a year.
He finds himself humming little snippets during the day, jotting things down on his phone, a hundred little voice recordings ready to parse through when he can grab Adora. They decide that rather than having Jimin sing the whole thing, it might work well with the contrast of their voices - Jimin’s sweet tenor against Taehyung’s gentle baritone. They decide not to tell Jimin yet, about it being a duet - Taehyung knows that Jimin’s not the kind of person to hog the spotlight (too much), and if it means even a quarter to Jimin what it means to Taehyung, well. As a Jimin-afficionado (Jimincionado), Taehyung thinks he’ll like it.
“This is great.” Adora’s stopped what she was doing to announce it to the room. “This is - I think it’s so cool, and sweet, and honest, and let's face it, a little cheesy, which I love -”
“Rude. But also correct. However, if one can’t be cheesy at Christmas, when can one, I ask you.”
“And the fact you’ll sing it together.” She places her chin in her hand, “you’re so lucky.”
Taehyung crinkles his forehead. He and Jimin get to sing together all the time, all 7 of them do. But he supposes doing an almost sub-unit thing is a bit special, so he agrees.
“Yeah, if I could just figure out this bridge maybe it might actually happen.” He huffs out a laugh, before turning back to the keyboard. “What was that you played just before?”
“So, how’s my song coming along?” Jimin’s come up behind him to shove his sweaty face into Taehyung’s neck. They’re halfway through a marathon choreography session - no one, especially the choreographer, was happy about it, but they just didn’t have the time to space it out.
“Your song? What song’s that?” Taehyung feigns ignorance and takes a swig of his water bottle, dodging a gentle thwap from Jimin’s palm.
“My song! The song you’re writing me! Don’t be a dick!”
A little bit of water dribbles out of Taehyung’s mouth as he gurgles a laugh. “Oh, that song, right. Well… I’ve just been so busy. You understand.” He attempts to gather Jimin’s fist in his, a measure of patronising comfort.
Jimin gasps, “I do not understand, at all! Unbelievable. The nerve. Outrageous!” Jimin’s face is somehow even more flushed, as he sticks his nose in the air and starts to march off. Taehyung waddles after him, arms outstretched, making the same kind of apology noises he makes to Yeontan before he shoves his face in his belly fluff.
“Come back little man! My little man! My little Jiminie, I’m sorry! I’m writing you the best song in the world, yes I am! Yes I am writing you the best song in the world!”
Jimin’s walking faster now, leading Taehyung in a circle around the room, the hypnotic sway of his butt oddly reminiscent of the ajumma’s who go walking in groups, all clad in rustle-y neon track-pants around Taehyung’s Daegu neighbourhood.
“Don’t you use your Tannie voice on me!” Jimin cries over his shoulder.
Taehyung plasters his palm to his chest, as if he’s been shot, and staggers to the floor.
“How - how could you even - Tannie, my baby, and Jiminie, my Best Boy, I would never disrespect either of you in that manner! You must-” He gasps, because acting, and waves one arm from where he’s splayed out on the cool floor, “Forgive me, my sweet boy…”
Jimin runs back to him, does an impressive slide on his knees to bump into Taehyung’s side, only to mime removing a dagger from it’s sheath, laugh maniacally and stab it into Taehyung’s chest, yelling “Forgive you?! I’d rather you perish!”
Taehyung lets out as blood-curdling a scream as his lungs will allow after 6 hours of choreography, and mimes desiccation in a way only a true connoisseur of contemporary movement would understand.
“You guys doing OK over there?” Yoongi calls out.
Taehyung raises a thumb above where Jimin’s pretending to weep over his corpse.
“Great, thanks!”
When he first met Jimin, Taehyung had been generally overwhelmed. Not by him, but by pretty much everything. New city, new home, new… friends? He hoped, at least. Taehyung is a naturally outgoing person, and he wanted desperately to find people to call his own. Or even just one.
Ending up with 6, not including the countless other people he fell a little in love with every day, was more than he had hoped.
Ending up with one in particular, well. That was more than he had dreamed. And Taehyung dreamed a lot, and vividly. He only remembered snippets, but he loved dissecting them over breakfast with whoever would listen.
“So, I’m running through a forest, wearing a helmet, and all of a sudden, this huge bottle of lotion is in front of me!? So I’m like, ‘hi!’, because I don’t want to be rude, and the lotion bottle just squeezes itself, and spurts everywhere, and then I wake up!”
Namjoon looks around the kitchen, an aura of desperation surrounding him. Taehyung read about auras once. Doesn’t remember much. “So, Joonie, what do you think? What does it mean?”
“It’s definitely masturbatory.” Jimin enters, sounding sleepy but sure of himself. He plops down at the breakfast bar next to Taehyung, and picks up a strawberry. “Maybe you aren’t jerking off enough?” He closes his lips around the berry, sinking his teeth in.
Taehyung watches a thin string of spit stretch from Jimin’s lips to the green stem as he draws it from his mouth. It breaks, partly dangling from Jimin’s bottom lip to meet his chin. Taehyung absently wipes it with his thumb, considering Jimin’s analysis.
Namjoon’s about as green as the leaf clutched in Jimin’s fingertips.
“You could be onto something.” Taehyung acknowledges. “I definitely haven’t been taking time out of my day to really go, y’know,” he gestures to his pajama pants, “to town.”
Jimin nods wisely, before yawning. Namjoon’s coffee cup falls with a clatter into the sink, as he rushes out of the kitchen.
“Want breakfast?” Taehyung asks. Jimin stands up, walks behind him, wraps his arms around his waist and rubs his nose into the dip of his spine, inhaling deeply.
“Is that a yes?”
Another nuzzle.
“Is that a ‘Why am I out of bed?’”
This time the response is distinctly vertical.
“Come on,” Taehyung encourages, wrapping his arms around behind him, “where’s that get up and go! Where’s that zazzy attitude!” He walks them to the cupboard, throwing the doors open with a clatter. “Pancakes? Muesli? Eggs? Leftovers?” He gets a muffled response. It sounds negative. “Couch? TV? Head pat?” A pleased whine emanates from his upper back.
“Couch it is. Come along now.”
When they’re settled on the couch, Jimin splayed over Taehyung and head pat in full swing, Jimin raises his head up off of Taehyung’s chest and props his chin on his sternum. Taehyung crooks his neck to meet his gaze, eyes going blurry from proximity.
“My favourite.” Jimin says, simply.
Taehyung smiles. “Yeah, I love couch days.”
Jimin’s mouth quirks. “Sure. Those too.” Before nestling his head back down, and dozing off.
Taehyung almost can’t believe it. 10 minutes ago he was having a wonderful meander through his sixth imaginary scenario where he played the demo to Jimin for the first time. This time, Imaginary Jimin in his Jimingination was crying, big gulping sobs that left fat, glassy tears streaming down his cheeks. He was imaginarily absolutely overcome with joy, which was a great improvement upon Imaginary Jimin in scenarios three through five who had been, respectively, bored, disgusted and amused. Taehyung had almost said something he’d have regretted to all three, but he didn’t want to risk it.
10 minutes ago, Taehyung thinks, he might have been a bit silly.
But 10 minutes have passed, which brings him here, now, in the hallway, with Adora next to him, attempting to comfort Taehyung when he’s not entirely sure why he needs to be comforted in the first place.
“Taehyung, I’m sorry.”
“No! What? No - don’t be!” Taehyung forces a laugh. He feels queasy. “It’s not your fault - we sound great! You sound great. And Christmas is a couple’s holiday, and Jimin and I - we just. We like Christmas!” He fluffs his fringe, giving his tingling fingers something to do before turning to her and grasping her hands in his. “But seriously, I’m happy to sing it with you. More people should hear you, and anything I can do to help… I’m there.” He glances at his phone to check the time. “I should get going - we’re running through some old choreo for tour and Hobi will have my head if I’m late!” He’s got an hour. Adora looks at him like she knows that. “Thanks again, for all your help!” He calls out as he starts backing down the corridor, holding two thumbs up, and a smile firmly on his face.
“It’s not a big deal.”
Taehyung doesn’t know who he’s convincing as he stares in the bathroom mirror. He knows it’s not a big deal. Songs get altered, rewritten, discarded entirely all the time. Even Joon and Yoongi get work handed back to them, a million notes, comments, suggestions, orders later. Shit, Jin had an entire solo song thrown out, not that long before their album was being finalised. Taehyung knows that in order to progress he needs to be open to criticism and change, and realising that even though he’s in the band, his opinion isn’t the be all and end all, is important.
That isn’t what this is about, a small voice in the back of his mind provides.
Taehyung tells that small voice to fuck off.
They have a meeting. They have a lot of meetings, but in this one they’re talking about side-projects, which inevitably brings up Taehyung’s duet with Adora.
Bang leads a round of applause as he announces they’re thinking of releasing it as a Christmas present for their fans on Soundcloud. Hoseok and Yoongi start thumping on the table and Seokjin does a congratulatory yodel. Taehyung can feel himself blushing, and can’t help but dart his eyes towards Jimin. He never got around to telling him, or any of them for that matter, that the duet started off as his song for Jimin.
“Have you all heard it?” Bang asks.
“Adora played it a few days ago - didn’t know you were such a romantic, Taehyung.” Yoongi waggles his eyebrows. Taehyung chokes. A chorus of oooohh’s fill the room.
“The chemistry between them...” Hoseok finishes with a screech, Yoongi and him cackling.
“Our little Taehyungie, a Casanova! A… a Don Juan!” Namjoon’s joined in now, confusing Jeongguk who looks to be asking Seokjin who the hell Namjoon’s talking about. Taehyung resists braining himself on the table. He chances a glance at Jimin, who is concentrating on his phone.
“It’s not even-” Taehyung starts to correct them before Hoseok, having never dropped a joke in his life, interrupts with “Not even what? The truest love of your life?! How could you say that, you scoundrel! You fiend! Breaking Adora’s heart like this!” He swoons forward, flinging himself across the table.
“She’s not-” Taehyung protests. “She doesn’t even-”
“That’s not what it sounded like.” Seokjin offers smugly.
“I didn’t even- It’s not-”
“I’m telling Adora-” Jeongguk sing-songs.
“Shut up!” Taehyung nearly yells.
The cacophony grinds to a halt, apart from a few residual hoots from Hoseok before Yoongi slaps a hand over his mouth.
Namjoon looks worriedly at him, before gently asking if he’s alright.
“I’m fine. Sorry.” Taehyung says shortly. He swallows and stands up, gesturing towards the door. “I’m gonna -” he glances around the table, pointedly avoiding Jimin’s concerned gaze. “Headache.” he mumbles, and leaves.
There’s a soft knock on his door a few hours later. Taehyung lifts his head from where it’s nestled in his pillows, the rest of him curled up under his covers. He waits a few seconds, before the door opens slowly. “Tae? You in here?”
It’s Jimin. Of course it’s Jimin. Taehyung mumbles a greeting. Jimin walks over to the side of Taehyung’s bed, before shoving him over to make a space to clamber into, under the blankets. He rests his head next to Taehyung’s, before rubbing his face all over the pillow, giving it a long sniff and commenting “You really gotta wash these.”
“If you’ve just come in here to critique my linens, you can fuck right off.”
“Nah, I’ve also come to nap.” He lays an arm over Taehyung’s tummy like it belongs there, and fakes a horrific snore, smiling when Taehyung chokes on a surprised laugh.
“That’s better.”
“Yeah.”
“Nunight, Tae.”
“Night night, Jimin.”
When a few weeks have passed, and the odd feeling under his skin hasn’t quite faded, his conversations with the PD haven’t gotten less stilted, and any and all congratulations from the team (who weren’t in that disaster of a meeting) on his and Adora’s duet have been met with less than the expected hyper-enthusiastic response, Yoongi pulls Taehyung into his studio, sits him down, and thrusts a chocolate bar in his face.
“Here.”
Taehyung takes it and says thank you.
“What’s going on.” Yoongi’s facing his computer screen when he asks this. From previous experience, Taehyung is confident it is directed at him and answers accordingly.
“Not much.”
“Bullshit. You’re being weird. Weirder than usual. Why.”
“You know,” Taehyung unwraps the chocolate bar and takes a bite, “I know that you’re technically asking me a question, but your tone sounds more like a demand.”
Yoongi continues to stare at his computer screen, presumably doing something terribly important.
Taehyung caves. “I’m not being weird.”
Yoongi stays silent.
“I’m being weird?” Taehyung tries.
Yoongi loudly taps one key on his keyboard.
Taehyung flops over on the couch. “It’s stupid, hyung. I’m being stupid.”
Studies have shown Yoongi’s silent treatment to be disarmingly effective, particularly when the subject has a natural inclination to run their mouth.
Taehyung waves a hand in the air dismissively. “I’m just… a little more bummed about not being able to give Jimin his song that I thought I would be. Our song. Than I should be. I know it’s not a big deal but. I don’t know. I was really looking forward to it, is all.”
“Jimin’s song? I didn’t know you’d finished it.”
“Yeah, it’s the one Adora and I did together.”
“The Christmas song?” Yoongi sharply spins his chair around to face him.
“The Christmas song.” Taehyung confirms.
“Oh. You… you wrote that for Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice has an odd sound to it. Like it’s being stretched.
“For Jimin and me, yeah.” Taehyung explains. “I thought our voices would sound really nice on it - you heard Adora, she sounds great, I just... I just had Jimin in mind when I was writing it, is all. And then the PD said that we couldn't do it, because it's better if the duet is between a man and a woman.”
“The Christmas song? The Christmas song about Christmas and spending it together.” Yoongi’s eye twitches. “That’s the uh... The song you wrote specifically for Jimin? For you and Jimin to sing together. Specifically.”
“Yes?” Taehyung isn’t sure why this is taking so long for Yoongi to comprehend. He’s probably tired. Or hungry. Or just needs a hug. Taehyung can take care of the hug now, tuck him into bed later, and maybe if Jeongguk’s around, he can grab some ramen from his studio. He’s about to offer when Yoongi seems to click.
“Right. Great! Cool.” He says.
“Well, yeah, it would’ve been,” Taehyung grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, “If we’d been able to do it together.”
Yoongi snorts, then catches himself. “Sorry, I had something…. in my nose.”
Taehyung nods commiseratingly. “Glad you got it out. Once I had a piece of apple stuck up there for days.”
Yoongi blinks. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.” He can almost feel it now.
Yoongi considers him for a moment. Taehyung isn’t sure whether to preen or cower.
“So you had your Christmas song for you and Jimin and then the PD was a dick - I've gotta talk to Bang about that - and Jimin can't sing it with you now and you’re sad about it.”
Taehyung’s mouth takes him by surprise, wobbling for a split second. He laughs self-consciously, “I know it’s not a big deal, hyung, and I don’t want to be a dick about it - I know we have to make compromises and what I want isn’t the whole point here but. I don’t know. I was excited.”
“For your Christmas song with Jimin.”
“...Have you got a concussion?”
“Possibly.” Yoongi brings a hand up to his temple, massaging firmly. “So you’re feeling sad. About the song. Nothing else?”
Taehyung chews on his lip. “Well, I don’t think so? Everything else is great. I’ve got you guys, 2 whole dogs, and did I show you the new Miles Davis record I got? All in all, I’m having a terrific time.”
“No, I mean, it’s just the artistic… vision… being compromised that’s bugging you.”
Taehyung stops for a second, thinking. “Well, yeah, I had such a specific thing in mind and to not have it happen…” He shrugs.
“And why did you write it for Jimin again?”
“Because he wanted a song?” The duh is silent.
Yoongi stares blankly into the corner of the studio for so long Taehyung almost starts timing it, before Yoongi turns back to him, saying. “It was very… you and Jimin. I honestly, honestly don’t know why I didn’t get it as soon as I heard the demo. Honestly.” He brings both hands up to plant his face in them.
“Thank you!” Taehyung beams.
“I’m glad you assumed I meant that in a good way.” He replies from where he’s buried in his palms. He drops his hands to his lap before asking, “So it didn’t annoy you… why he said you guys couldn’t sing it together?”
Taehyung flinches.“What? No? What?”
Yoongi’s eyes soften, but remain steady.
“I mean, sure - I just don’t really get it, y’know?” Taehyung raises a hand in the air to flail, for effect. “Our group is literally 7 dudes, singing love songs. I don’t see why Jimin and I - why this is any different.”
“Well, we’re not normally singing them to each other.”
“Jungkook literally sung Begin to all 6 of us!”
“I think you know that’s not the same.”
The look on Yoongi’s face makes Taehyung feel 12, both in age and inches tall. He steadfastly ignores it.
“Why not?”
Yoongi exhales, slowly spinning his chair around in a full circle.
“Why not?” He asks again. There’s a touch of desperation in his voice he works hard to curb.
“Taehyung, can I say something?”
“Yes. Always.”
“You are the most emotionally vulnerable and empathetic yet utterly obtuse person I’ve ever met. Ever.”
Taehyung opens his mouth, then closes it. “...Thank you?”
“Sure. You’re welcome. Now off you fuck,” he says kindly, “I’ve got shit to do. I think you do too.”
They’re busy. They’re always busy, but this is something else. Ramping up for a world tour of this magnitude is something that Taehyung hadn’t dared to dream of, and not even in a ‘jinx-y’ way. He’s just trying to take it day by day but, fuck.
It’s easy for the stress to pile up. To be ignored or accepted as par for the course. Namjoon and Yoongi try to remind them of mindfulness regularly, to talk about anything that’s bothering them, or say if they need anything. But even constant reminders struggle to overcome the natural inclination to assume you’re being a burden.
Which is how Taehyung finds himself, sitting in a nondescript hallway in BigHit’s building, back against the wall. Mind moving too fast to latch onto any one thought, lurching from one half-formed worry to another.
But underneath it all, there’s one faint thread being insistently tugged. What the fuck had Yoongi meant, obtuse?
Taehyung’s only ever heard that applied to triangles, but context lead him to believe it wasn’t anything good. It’s been at least a week since Yoongi had sat him down in his studio. A week of holding the door closed on the mental closet where Taehyung shoves a lot of his and Yoongi’s heart to hearts, until he’s ready to process them. He hadn’t even really been conscious of the fact that he’d been ignoring it, but now he’s sitting on the floor when he’s meant to be in possibly 3 other places, not crying but also not feeling like that’s entirely off the table either, and suddenly his brain has latched onto obtuse obtuse obtuse.
So he does what Namjoon’s always reminding him he can, and looks it up on his phone.
obtuse
əbˈtjuːs/
adjective
- (of an angle) more than 90° and less than 180°.
Well, that can’t be it.
- annoyingly insensitive or slow to understand.
Annoyingly insensitive? That’s not fair. He’s cried to a man and his trumpet, possibly a dozen times. Plus, Yoongi had called him empathetic in the same sentence, hadn’t he? But - slow to understand?
That doesn’t feel much better on his tongue, but he mulls it over. Slow to understand.
Slow to understand what, Yoongi?! Taehyung shakes his fist at the ceiling, before letting his arm flop to the side. Slow to understand what.
It’s an afternoon off, rare and appreciated. Namjoon and Hoseok are out participating in society, Jeongguk is napping, and Taehyung doesn’t know where Seokjin, Jimin or Yoongi are. What he does know is that all of the games on his phone are terrible, nothing exciting has happened on any of the 3 social media apps he’s been opening and closing for what feels like the past year, and one buttcheek is experiencing a weird tingle. He rubs it against the couch.
“If it’s not cute when Tannie does it, it’s definitely not cute when you do it.” Jimin advises from the doorway.
Taehyung continues rubbing his butt on the couch. “I have an itchy buttcheek.” He explains, and Jimin walks over to join him.
“Just use your hand like everyone else. Now sit still.” Taehyung freezes.
Jimin sighs as he settles his head into Taehyung’s lap. “Pat please.” He lifts Taehyung’s hand and drops it onto his own head, where Taehyung starts stroking. People always say Taehyung looks comfortable, but Jimin truly takes it to the next level when he’s at home. Jimin ascends to cosy regularly. Taehyung takes a moment to admire his fuzzy socks, before asking, “How’s my best boy?”
“Better now.” Jimin nuzzles his face into Taehyung’s lap, possibly itching his nose. “You?”
“Oh, y’know.”
Jimin rolls over onto his back, to stare up at Taehyung. “Normally, yes, but over the past, what, month? Nope.”
Taehyung starts whistling. Jimin rolls his eyes and turns back on his side.
“So, you didn’t get to do a song for me.”
Taehyung stops patting for a second, before Jimin softly grunts his displeasure and he resumes his job.
“I don’t mind, you know.”
“I do.” Taehyung answers.
“I know you do, that’s why I’m telling you I don’t.”
“OK. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Taehyung keeps patting. “I’m sorry.” He says.
Jimin sits up, hair ruffled and a little dribble on his cheek. He’d only been lying down for a minute, Taehyung marvels.
“Don’t apologise, you giant nerd.” Jimin pushes gently against his chest. “I was just being a pain in the ass in the first place. I genuinely don’t mind.”
“And I adore you for that-”
“As you should.” Jimin dismisses.
“But I care. And not just because I let you down. The whole thing just sucks.”
Jimin nods for a moment, before stopping to clarify, “Actually, what sucks, specifically?”
For a few seconds, Taehyung is stumped, brain scrambling for a solid answer. “I had - plans. I don’t know.” Taehyung scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m being stupid.”
“You’re not being stupid. If it’s bugging you this much, it’s not stupid. And you know I’d tell you if you were. But this… isn’t anything to apologise for.”
Taehyung musters up about half a smile. “I just. I really wanted you to hear it and for it to be yours. Ours. It’s about us, you know.”
“Huh?”
“Our song.”
“Wait, wait, so - you did write a song for me? So what are you apologising for then? And why can’t I hear it? And why am I more confused than when we first started talking?”
Taehyung’s brain is whirring. “Our song - the song I wrote with Adora, for us to do.”
“That was for us?!”
“Yes! Did I not - did I not tell you?”
“No! No, you didn’t you absolute-” Taehyung doesn’t even try to defend himself against the cushion Jimin is whacking against him, a thousand scattered thoughts running through his brain.
“The song I wrote with Adora, that was for us to sing-” the cushion hits his face, "ouch - together! You were going to sing Adora’s part. Stop - Stop. It.” He wrestles the cushion from Jimin’s grip. “That’s what I’d been working on.”
“For us?”
“Jesus, are both you and Yoongi alright? Yes, for us. The Christmas song was for us. To sing. Together.”
Jimin looks lost. “Tae...”
“So I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry it didn’t work out, and I’m sorry that you didn’t get your song. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Tae, I-”
“I don’t know how I didn’t tell you - I don’t know how you didn’t know! What did you think I was doing? Wasn’t it obvious when you heard it? It’s us, Jimin. It’s us.”
“It is?” Jimin’s eyes widen.
“Yeah, you idiot. Christmas. It’s ours, isn’t it?”
A smile tugs at the corner of Jimin’s plush lips. “I guess it is.”
Taehyung relaxes against the back of the couch. Jimin settles next to him, grabs another cushion to plop in his lap and pick at incessantly. After a few moments, Taehyung places his hand over Jimin’s. “You’re gonna ruin it.”
“I’ll get another one, won’t I.” Jimin returns, petulantly.
“No you won’t.”
Jimin sighs, relaxing his hand. “No, I won’t,” he agrees. Settling his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, he starts playing with Taehyung’s fingers before quietly asking, “Tae?”
“Yeah?”
“Why… why was this bugging you so much?”
Taehyung takes a minute to think it over. Maybe more than a minute, because Jimin prompts him again before he answers.
“Because it’s you… and me.”
The pads of Jimin’s fingertips are so soft against the knuckles of his fingers. His fluffy hair is tickling the side of his chin.
“And we’re... important.” Taehyung lets a breath out, slowly. “I just - I had all these thoughts about what you’d do with it and what we’d do together and how you’d sound and how we’d sound together and- it was nice and I was excited. And then he - the producer - made me feel like. We shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what?”
“I don’t know, be us?” Taehyung laughs softly.
“What is ‘us’, Taehyung?” Jimin says this quickly, quietly.
“Me and you. Us. I don’t understand the question.”
Jimin shifts up to sitting on his knees, running his hand through his hair, before asking “What are we, to you?”
Taehyung’s thumb starts twitching with no hand to hold it. The look on Jimin’s face fills his chest with a sense of urgency, but his brain has gone completely quiet.
Jimin stares at his blank face for a second, before giggling softly. “It’s OK, Tae. Don’t worry about it. Just. Just go back to patting my head.” He sniffs imperiously, before starting to shift position on the couch. Something clicks into place in Taehyung’s chest, as he reaches out to place a hand on the centre of Jimin’s, stopping him.
“No.”
“Excuse me, I’m pretty sure if you refer to our Friendship Agreement, section 12b, paragraph 5, you’ll find ‘Head Pats’-”
“No, I mean ‘No, don’t tell me not to worry about it.’”
“Oh.” Jimin swallows.
Taehyung feels weirdly present and separate all at once. He knows he has toes because of the plush carpet enveloping them. He knows he has a tummy because of the way his waistband has twisted, slightly digging in. He knows he has fingers because of the warmth soaking in from Jimin’s sweatshirt. Slow to understand what.
“I, um. I always kind of thought that we didn’t need to say what we were to each other-”
“We don’t, please ignore me, possibly forever.” Jimin laughs, wildly, “Wait, I don’t mean that, you can ignore me for 30 seconds tops.”
“But now I’ve been told I can’t talk about us, I think I might want to.”
Jimin stays silent, eyes slowly raising up from where they’ve been studying his nails, or the couch, or anything but Taehyung.
“You do?”
Taehyung takes a deep breath, and Jimin’s hand.
“Yeah. Jimin, you - you’re a lot of things to me. Christmas was really just the first thing that came to mind. You’re the same kind of warmth, and trust. The same kind of belonging. But you’re the surprise of… of birthdays, too. The way they feel too much sometimes, but you always want another. You’re the fun parts of Halloween, when I’m not scared. But sometimes you do scare me. Not always in a good way.”
“Well fuck you too!” Jimin raises his head to laughingly glare at Taehyung, a slight wobble to the set of his mouth.
“Kidding. Mostly. What I do know, Jimin,” Taehyung’s unoccupied hand might be moving independently of his brain, locking into place against Jimin’s cheek. “What I do know, is that I want a lot more of all of them, and I want a lot more of all of you. Is that alright?”
Jimin blinks, breathes out, “Whatever you want.”
Taehyung has seen Jimin’s eyes sparkle under a spotlight, under streetlights, under fluorescents, under fairy lights, but he’s never seen -
Slow to understand...
“Jimin.”
“Yes.”
“I think… I might understand something.”
“Well that’s good.”
“I think so, too.”
“You gonna fill me in?”
“I think you might already know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“You know I love you, right?”
Jimin sharply inhales. “I - I had hoped.”
“Sorry. For not getting it sooner.”
Jimin’s thumb is stroking Taehyung’s palm, and he can’t think straight. Jimin’s tongue darts out to soothe his lower lip, and Taehyung cannot think straight. He thinks his mind might have replaced all other understanding he had with this one Big Understanding and now he’s flying blind and his brain might be melting out of his ears.
“That’s absolutely fine, you big dumb beautiful moth. I love you too.”
Jimin’s lips are very close. He should make them closer. His hand is cupping the side of Jimin’s face, as his eyelashes flutter and their noses brush.
“Taehyung?” Jimin whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Hurry the fuck up and kiss me.”
Taehyung surges forward, forgetting he’s not on his knees like Jimin and the only thing that saves him from falling off the couch is sheer willpower and Jimin’s sizeable biceps. Jimin drags him up, pushes him down, straddles him, and asks Taehyung and presumably God, “Do I have to do everything around here?” before bending down, and bringing his lips to Taehyung’s.
It’s everything Taehyung didn’t know he wanted. Well, he thinks he might’ve had an inkling, as he brings a hand up to the side of Jimin’s neck, urging him closer. Jimin gasps above him, as Taehyung chases his lips upwards, so soft, so slick.
“Jesus - fuck,” Jimin mumbles.
“Yes, yip, totally agree, glad we’re on the same page,” Taehyung garbles against his mouth, before finding his way to Jimin’s jawline, his ear, his-
“Shit - oh fuck.” Taehyung’s tongue traces its way up Jimin’s neck, before Jimin grabs his face tightly, dragging it up so they’re looking at each other, eye to eye.
“You, stop that.” Jimin mutters furiously, squeezing Taehyung's cheeks between his delicate hands, “I’m trying to have a romantic make-out session, here.”
“Sorry, yes, totally on board,” Taehyung babbles, “romance, right, got it, now gimme-”
The smile that cracks Jimin’s face wide open does the same in Taehyung’s chest.
“I really do love you, you know.” Taehyung whispers.
As he closes the gap between them, Jimin laughs. “Glad you caught up, dummy.”