Archive of Our Own ^beta

When I close my eyes,

I’m fighting in the dark

trying not to break your heart.

Sometimes I get so high

falling is the only out I see

and I don’t want to take you down with me.

Day 1.

Jimin woke up strangely numb and tingly.

His entire body felt like the inside of his mouth when he went to the dentist and would have to get a cavity filled. He knew there was pain somewhere past the anesthesia, but he wouldn’t feel it. Not yet.

Like a ghost, he skirted around the fallen kitchen chairs and the stack of mail swept off the counter in a fit of frustration.

He flicked on the coffee pot and stood in the kitchen, the tile cold underneath his feet.

If he tried hard enough, Jimin could pretend that the silence was normal. He’s had plenty of silent mornings before — when Taehyung went on trips, or when Taehyung would sleepover at his parents’ house for the weekend and Jimin was too busy to join.

But this silent was different.

This silent was oppressive and made Jimin’s ears ring and it made the sunlight coming in from the kitchen window look fake. Jimin reached a hand out to feel its warmth but could only focus on the way his fingers interrupted the gentle sway of the dust particles floating through the air.

Could only see the way his movements impeded their original path, forced them to float up and away and set off in a different direction.

That was Jimin.

The one who always got in the way, the one who stood in-between Taehyung and his own happiness, made Taehyung cater to his whims and needs because he was so selfish and blind and—

The coffee was done.

Jimin blindly reached up to grab for a mug, standing on his tip toes, ignoring the flash of pain when he remembered being in this exact position a million times before, except with the addition of a warm arm wrapped around his waist and Taehyung’s own hand reaching up for him, able to get the mugs without straining.

When he finally felt ceramic against his fingers he yanked it down and out of the drawer, setting it on the counter before getting a glimpse of which one he’d blindly chosen.

A Starry Night mug, one that he’d given to Taehyung during their first year of dating.

They were in college and Jimin had had limited funds to spend on his boyfriend’s birthday gift, and Jimin had been a bit embarrassed of the scarcity and simplicity of it, but Taehyung had loved the thing so much.

Used it all the time and still kept it, even though it was faded and chipped and worn down.

This mug had seen them through the past seven years of their relationship, had seen the groggy mornings and the heated arguments and the passionate nights.

They often passed it back and forth between them as they watched movies, the mug filled with cheap wine, or shared it as they read next to each other in bed, hot cocoa slowly filling both their stomachs.

Before he could realize what he was doing, Jimin violently swept his arm across the counter and knocked the mug off.

It shattered into pieces on the floor, the noise deafening in the silent apartment.

Jimin fell to his knees, his body’s self-made anesthesia wearing off, and let himself cry.

Day 7.

Taehyung got off work and took the train to his parents’ home.

He’d been sleeping there for a week now, and every time his mom’s concerned gaze fell on him he’d flee the room, knowing that if he opened his mouth to explain why he was there, he would fall apart.

Taehyung was falling apart.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was without Jimin, not really.

They had met when they were both freshmen in college. They lived on the same floor, and one night at two in the morning Jimin caught Taehyung crying in the communal bathroom because he was so homesick.

Jimin didn’t laugh, didn’t call him a baby like Taehyung had been afraid of. He had barely batted an eyelash, just took the rough brown paper towels from the dispenser and gently mopped Taehyung’s cheeks, running a comforting hand through Taehyung’s messy hair.

He had lead Taehyung out to their floor’s little lounge and went back to his room, returning with a yellow blanket that he threw over Taehyung’s shoulders and a pack of gummy worms.

Taehyung had been too upset and embarrassed to say anything, not even a word of thanks.

They sat there and watched the sun rise through the window in silence, munching on the sugary treat, and when Jimin had to leave and get ready for class, he let Taehyung keep the blanket.

Since that night, the two became inseparable.

They studied together, partied together, cried together.

They went on late night snack runs and introduced each other to their friends and they fell in love easily, simply, naturally, the way the wind moves through the trees and the sun shines on the ocean.

With Jimin, everything had always just been easy.

Taehyung couldn’t remember when it started getting hard.

Now, easy touches and tipsy late night trips to the convenience store and entire Sunday afternoons spent in bed were just a memory to him.

Now, the air between them was tense and there were times when Taehyung rolled over to meet Jimin’s eyes in bed and felt as if he were laying with a stranger.

A stranger with Jimin’s face, with the eyes that Taehyung fell in love with, with the same sweet voice but the words that came out of his mouth were less loving, so distant, so different.

Making his way to his childhood bedroom, Taehyung called out a halfhearted greeting to his parents, his own thoughts chasing after him, nipping at his heels, not letting him escape.

Taehyung didn’t know why today was different.

Why it took him so long to feel it, feel the loss, feel the Jimin-sized hole that burnt through him, like Jimin was a shooting star that had collided with Taehyung’s earth and had finally fizzled out.

The numbness he had felt for the past week washed away like those lopsided hearts couples drew into the sand, and Taehyung collapsed on his knees against his bed.

A sob ripped out of him and he turned his head, muffling his cries against a familiar yellow blanket that had long ago lost Jimin’s smell.

Day 30.

Hoseok was worried about him.

About them.

Jimin could see the anxiety eating away at Hoseok’s entire body, his typically happy face always frowning now, the crinkle between his eyebrows an entire abyss.

“I just don’t understand,” Hoseok whispered. “You guys…you guys broke up?”

Jimin shrugged. It had taken him a month to tell his best friend, and during that entire time Jimin felt like a shell of himself. Felt dust collecting up inside his body, but he couldn’t be bothered to wipe himself clean.

“Yea.”

“But you…you’re Jimin. And he’s Taehyung. And you…you guys…”

Jimin knew what he was trying to say.

Jimin and Taehyung had long ago become JiminandTaehyung.

They were a package deal, two halves of a whole, two lost stars that had found each other so perfectly in this large, scary, vast universe.

Jimin knew Hoseok, though older than both he and Taehyung, had looked up to their relationship.

After his parents had divorced in high school, Hoseok found himself lost and doubting, his lifelong example of love suddenly falling apart before his very eyes.

But Jimin and Taehyung had showed him that true love was real. That two people could love each other unconditionally, wholeheartedly, eternally — see every beautiful and devastating and ugly inch of each other and consume each other entirely. That past the screaming fights and the petty disagreements, there was long kisses and shared warmth and devotion.

“I just thought…you guys would be together forever.”

Jimin stared at his own hands.

They were shaking.

His nails were bitten down raw, the physical pain helping distract him from the emptiness inside his own chest.

“I did, too.”

Day 50.

Taehyung stared out the taxi, head turning as they drove past a little cemetery, one that he’s visited many times before.

They always say that no matter how horrible it is, you never truly know how much a person loves you until you go through something devastating.

During their last year in college, Taehyung found Jimin in the bathroom, face pressed hard against his own arms, collapsed against their tiny bathtub.

“Baby,” Taehyung had rushed out, dropping his school bag the moment he heard Jimin’s sobs. “Oh, baby, no. What’s happened? What’s the matter?”

Jimin had just cried harder at the sound of Taehyung’s voice, so loud that it was echoing in their tiny apartment, his own throat convulsing in on itself.

Taehyung had gathered Jimin into his arms, tears already building in his own eyes, and held his boyfriend to his chest. He remembered wanting to take apart the night sky and wrap it around Jimin’s body like a protective, soothing blanket. He remembered being so afraid, so unbearably sad, even before he knew what had happened.

He remembered feeling a fleeting moment of fear on how much of his own happiness Jimin held in his hands.

“My grandmother,” Jimin hiccuped out. “Tae.”

Taehyung deflated, letting out a long, shaking breath.

“Baby…”

Jimin’s grandmother had been sick for weeks now, and Taehyung could see that it was eating at the smaller boy. Jimin wore bags under his eyes almost on a daily basis, and he began to eat less, always holding his phone in his hands as if he were waiting for the worst.

And in a way, he was.

They all were.

They all knew that she was hanging onto her final moments of life, and the fact that Jimin had to stay at school to attend classes filled him with a guilt he couldn’t control.

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung whispered. “Jimin. I’m here. I love you, I love you.”

They sat up all night on the cold bathroom floor as Jimin shook apart.

Jimin’s hands searched blindly for something familiar, the feeling of loss too strong to bear, and he settled it right over Taehyung’s pounding heart.

Grounded himself to that beat, calmed his stuttered breaths into the skin of his boyfriend’s neck.

Taehyung was running his large, warm hands up and down Jimin’s back, rocking them back and forth even though his neck ached from the position they were in and his stomach growled from skipping dinner.

When Jimin calmed down he pulled back and pressed his lips to overheated skin, catching salt in his mouth and wishing an ocean could come and sweep over them and give Jimin one calm, painless night.

“She’s gone,” Jimin whispered.

“I know,” Taehyung responded.

“I don’t want you to ever leave me,” Jimin whimpered, raising watery eyes to meet Taehyung’s. His lashes were dark and clumped together, cheeks red and swollen. “Tae. Promise me.”

And Taehyung’s heart had completely burst in that moment.

Never had he promised anything with more conviction, more love, more devotion.

“Jimin,” he said, cupping his boyfriend’s cheeks in one hand firmly. “I will never leave you. Never, you understand me?”

Jimin closed his eyes and nodded, expression breaking again.

“I promise you,” Taehyung said.

“Okay,” Jimin whispered.

Leaning his head against the glass as the cemetery disappeared from sight, Taehyung could still remember how he felt making that promise.

He had never been more sure of anything in his life.

He would have sooner said that the moon and the sun would switch places before he and Jimin let each other go.

He never thought they would have let go of each others’ hands.

Funny how now, he could barely remember what Jimin’s fingers felt like in-between his.

Funny how Jimin was the one who ended up leaving him.

Day 100.

“You need to stop this, Jimin,” Namjoon said. His hyung was sitting across from him in his work clothes, hair ruffled from running his hands through it one too many times.

“Stop what?” Jimin bit out, eyes cast down towards his phone, mindlessly pressing on apps and scrolling through without really seeing.

“You need to talk to Taehyung,” Namjoon said firmly. “Please. Please.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Jimin kept his voice steady, level, monotone. If he let even an ounce of emotion out, he would break again.

Jimin was tired of breaking.

Tired of falling apart without Taehyung there to pick up his pieces and mend him back together.

Jimin’s hands were too clumsy, too useless to do it himself.

He couldn’t do it himself.

“You’re wrong,” Namjoon said. He was picking at a loose thread in his slacks, frustration marring his handsome features. “You’re both just being stubborn, both just wasting away when you both could be happy if you’d just—”

“You don’t understand, hyung.”

“Listen to me, Jimin, I—”

“You don’t understand!” Jimin stood suddenly, a black wave of guilt covered up as anger punching him in the heart again and again. “You don’t know shit about us, you don’t know shit about what happened!”

The two of them stared at each other, and the moment the last word left Jimin’s lips he instantly felt regret.

“Then tell me, Jimin,” Namjoon stood too, and though he was only taller than him by a few inches, Jimin suddenly felt small.

Ever since they met, Namjoon’s presence made Jimin feel small, but in the best way. During the parties in college when Jimin felt a bit overwhelmed, he could always look up and meet Namjoon’s eyes, his hyung always questioning with his gaze, are you okay? When Jimin’s grandmother died and Taehyung didn’t know how to completely help him, it took a phone call that lasted less than five minutes for Namjoon to be there for them both, everybody else in tow. Namjoon had always taken care of Jimin, had always been a reliable friend, a steady hand always reaching out.

Because of this, looking into Namjoon’s earnest, concerned eyes, Jimin’s face crumpled.

“Chim,” Namjoon crooned.

“Fuck,” Jimin said. “I fucked up, hyung. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Namjoon was shaking his head before Jimin could even finish, bringing him into a crushing hug. Namjoon’s familiar scent and warm skin coaxed the tears from Jimin’s eyes and they burned down his cheeks.

“You’re going to be okay,” Namjoon said. “What happened, Jimin? I—you and Taehyung…you’re made for each other. What happened?”

Jimin shook his head.

“We shouldn’t be together, hyung,” his voice cracked.

“Why? Why do you think that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” Jimin said. “We just shouldn’t.”

“I disagree,” Namjoon said. “I think you’re wrong.”

“I’m not good enough for him, hyung,” Jimin whispered. “I truly and wholeheartedly am and never will be good enough for Kim Taehyung.”

“That’s bullshit,” Namjoon spat out in shock. “That’s not true.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whispered. “All I did was take from him. He gave me everything, and I…I could never do enough. He would give me oceans and all I could do was catch raindrops in a jar.”

Namjoon’s arms tightened.

“Oh, Jimin. You know he doesn’t feel that way.”

“But I do. It’s true.”

“The worth of a person shouldn’t amount to something, Jimin. You’re just you. You make mistakes and you do heroic things and you have bad days and good days — your life isn’t a measure of what you give and what you take. You just living your life as Jimin is good enough for Taehyung. That’s all he wants, all he needs.”

Jimin let the words sink into his skin. He sagged deeper into Namjoon’s chest.

“That’s not how I feel, though. I just…feel like I’m lacking something,” he murmured. “And it makes me sad, hyung. It makes me really, really sad.”

“It makes me sad, too,” Namjoon choked out. “I want you to be happy.”

Jimin pulled back and looked into his hyung’s eyes. “Don’t make me see him. Not yet, not…I can’t. Not now.”

Namjoon held Jimin’s gaze, then exhaled long and slow. “Whatever you need, whatever you decide…I’ll be here for you.”

Day 101.

“Hyung, could you grab my wallet? I think it’s in my jeans I wore yesterday,” Taehyung called from the kitchen.

Yoongi made his way up Taehyung’s parents’ house, the wood creaking underneath his feet. “Make me some toast too,” he called back.

Taehyung made a noise of confirmation, and Yoongi could almost relax. Taehyung sounded better — less sad. Not happy, but not centimeters from breaking apart, either. The two of them were going out to walk around the park and watch a movie afterwards, something that Yoongi had suggested in hopes of hearing Taehyung’s laughter again, if only for a fleeting moment.

It was a sound that none of them had heard since he and Jimin broke up, and it was a sound Yoongi desperately wanted to bring back.

He wanted to bring both of them back, they all did.

But time was cruel and forgiving in which it lessened your pain, but with that came numbness, and with numbness came passivity.

Neither of them seemed to be aiming towards reconciliation anytime soon, the two of them living as floating planets that were no longer in the same orbit.

Yoongi entered Taehyung’s childhood room and knelt towards the jeans haphazardly discarded on the floor, patting through the pockets to feel for Taehyung’s familiar leather wallet that Jimin had gifted him during their second year of dating.

When he felt a lump in one of the front pockets, Yoongi plunged his hand in and wrapped his fingers around the object.

His hand came back out grasping a velvet box.

“When did you buy it?”

Yoongi and Taehyung had finished their walk and movie.

After Yoongi processed what he had found, crouching stunned on the floor, Taehyung walked in and found him frozen with the box in his hand.

“Hyung…”

Yoongi had said nothing, simply placing the ring back in the pocket and standing.

“Let’s go. You don’t need your wallet, I’ll treat.”

Now, they were sitting on the porch of Taehyung’s parents’ house, twilight casting a cold blue sheen over their skin.

“How long have you had it?”

Taehyung swallowed thickly.

It took several minutes for him to answer.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Yoongi looked over at his dongsaeng then.

Noticed Taehyung’s pale skin, sunken cheeks, shaking hands.

Taehyung’s hands had never shook before.

Taehyung was always free, unabashedly himself in everything he did, grinning at children he saw on the street and striking up conversations with strangers in the elevator about everything and anything.

He wasn’t reserved, or quiet, or dim.

Taehyung was never dim like this.

As Yoongi stared at Taehyung sitting there underneath the darkening sky, he felt his heartbeat pick up. In anger, frustration, despair, he didn’t know.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi ground out. “How long?”

“Since junior year.”

Yoongi couldn’t help the shocked breath he sucked in.

So long ago.

Though that was their third year of dating, they had been in college.

In his junior year, Yoongi hadn’t even known what he wanted to do career-wise. Hadn’t known what he wanted to eat for dinner half the time.

But Jimin and Taehyung, together, they had been sure. And Yoongi could see that. Even from the very first day, they had always been sure.

“It’s a cheap fucking thing,” Taehyung choked out. “I never actually planned to propose with it. I was…saving up for a better one. But…just…I don’t know. One day, after my classes, I just walked into town and saw it and I couldn’t get Jimin’s fucking laugh out of my head, couldn’t stop imagining moving in with him and making breakfast together and kissing him whenever I wanted and getting into stupid fights together and having him be the first thing I saw when I woke up and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep and even fucking adopting a kid — I wanted it all. So badly. So I just went in and bought it.”

“And you’ve been carrying it around ever since.”

“…Yea.”

“It’s been five years.”

“I know,” Taehyung’s voice cracked. “I know.”

“Do you still want it?”

“What?”

“Fuck, Tae, breakfast, stupid fights, marathon sex, a damn child, all that domestic shit that you just listed. Do you still want it? With Jimin?”

Taehyung was silent for a long, heated moment.

He inhaled shakily through his nose, held the cold air in his lungs for longer than normal, as if he were trying to numb his aching insides.

“All the time,” he confessed, and his words began the formation of new stars somewhere in a faraway galaxy. “I never stopped wanting it, hyung.”

Yoongi tipped his head back and exhaled, their shared sadness weighing heavy on his eyelashes, making his eyes close halfway.

“Talk to him, Tae. If not for you, then for him.”

Day 183.

Seeing Taehyung again simultaneously felt like everything falling into place and also falling apart.

Jimin missed him, missed the familiarity of Taehyung’s strong neck and the mole on the underside of his nose and his large sinewy hands and his uneven eyelids. Jimin knew that if he closed his eyes and reached out he would be able to trace Taehyung’s face exactly, would be able to do it ten, fifteen, fifty years down the line as well.

When they stopped right in front of each other, Jimin noticed that Taehyung wore a new cologne. The bulky silver rings on his hands were rearranged — one was missing, and a new one sat comfortably on his left pinky finger. Taehyung’s hair was longer too, brushing against the back of his neck, bangs resting right on his eyelashes.

“Can I come in?”

Taehyung was using the voice that he typically used with strangers — courteous, polite. Restrained.

Completely and utterly un-Taehyung.

“Of course,” Jimin breathed out, stepping back and letting Taehyung in.

Taehyung shed his coat and scarf, hanging them onto the coat rack out of pure habit. It was a sight so achingly familiar that Jimin had to look away.

“You got a new couch,” Taehyung noted.

Jimin looked at it, glad for a distraction from the tension that hung between them.

“The old one wore down years ago,” Jimin murmured.

“I thought it was fine,” Taehyung said.

The two of them paused.

Before, the comment wouldn’t have fazed either of them. The two would have argued playfully over their differing opinions, or, if they were actually serious about the topic, would have sat down and talked through it.

Now, though, with their last conversation being a dark cloud full of tears and words that were never meant to be said and raised voices, Taehyung’s response sounded borderline aggressive.

Realizing this, Taehyung shook his head.

“I didn’t come here to argue. I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s fine,” Jimin said shortly.

The two were awkward around each other in a way they never had been before — where they used to come together effortlessly, they were keeping their distance now, not wanting to get caught in the other’s gravity, neither of them knowing if they would be strong enough to resist the pull.

“How…how have you been?” Taehyung started hesitantly.

It was strange how those words felt so bitter on his tongue. They were such normal words, such a normal question, but for Taehyung to have to direct it towards Jimin…it solidified the fact that Taehyung didn’t know how Jimin was. That Taehyung wasn’t hearing about Jimin’s every mood, every happy moment, every inconvenience. That Taehyung and Jimin had drifted apart after seven years of being wrapped around each other.

“Fine,” Jimin was quick to answer, the two of them sitting down on the couch beside each other, and awkward gap between them. “I’ve been fine.”

“You’re lying,” Taehyung said. And he was. Jimin was using the voice he used when he was hiding something, and it was something that Taehyung had never failed to recognize.

Jimin let out a short breath. “I’ve been fine, Taehyung.”

A sudden urge of anger, desperate and sad, surged up Taehyung’s spine. “Why are you lying, Jimin? I called you and asked to come over so we could talk. What even is the point of us talking if you’re not going to be honest with me?” he snapped.

“What do you want me to say, then?” Jimin snapped back. “Do you want me to say that I’ve been fucking miserable? That I wake up every day and for a split second, I’ll forget that you’re gone, and I’ll reach my hand out to touch you before I remember again? Do you want me to say that all I ever really want to do now is sleep because it’ll be a few hours where I don’t have to feel pain? Was that what you want, Taehyung?”

“Get back together with me,” Taehyung said. “Jimin.”

Jimin was already shaking his head, hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Stop.”

“Jimin, baby, why? I just want to understand. I’ve been fucking miserable, and you…don’t think I haven’t noticed, Chim.”

“Noticed what?” Jimin bristled, the old nickname wrapped in Taehyung’s voice stabbing like a knife in his gut.

Taehyung just pinned him with a harsh glare, and Jimin wrapped his arms around himself.

“You haven’t been eating, and I can tell. Jimin, please. I want to…let me take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jimin’s voice was hard.

“Clearly not,” Taehyung retorted. “I could snap you in half with my left hand.”

“Stop,” Jimin shouted. “We’re not getting back together, Taehyung.”

“Why? Why did we even break up in the first place, Jimin? What happened?”

Jimin just shook his head, tears collecting in his eyes. Taehyung instinctively reached out to wipe them, but Jimin flinched back.

Somehow, that action triggered Taehyung’s own tears, and he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, blinking and breathing harsh.

“Do you not love me anymore?” Taehyung finally whispered, voice breaking through the silence of the room. When he looked back down at Jimin, the tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks, hot against his already flushed skin. The back of his nose burned, and he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. “What did I…what did I do wrong?”

Jimin wouldn’t, couldn’t look at him.
“Did we break up because you fell out of love, Jimin? Did you get bored of me?”

“No,” Jimin couldn’t help but answer. “I never…I’d never…”

“Then what is it? I just want to understand,” Taehyung was desperate. His voice was shaking, cracking, splitting apart like an earthquake that destroyed the foundations of everything he’s ever known. “You said…we said forever. We said we’d be together forever.”

“Couples break up, Tae,” Jimin’s voice was weak, almost listless, resigned. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Taehyung disagreed.

Ever since he was young, he was a firm believer that love was enough. That love could overcome everything. That love was what powered the entire world.

“Ours is.”

“Maybe yours,” Jimin responded. He looked into Taehyung’s eyes and smiled a smile Taehyung’s never seen before — sad, and completely broken. “But not mine. Mine will never be enough for you.”

Desperation was eating at Taehyung’s insides, the feeling that this was his last chance making him frantic, panicky.

“That’s not for you to decide,” he cried. “It’s enough, you’re enough for me, you’re more than enough, you’re more than I deserve—”

“You don’t see it now,” Jimin said quietly. “But someday in the future, you will. When you find a — a different man who makes you happier than I made you—”

Taehyung let out a sound of protest, sobs making his head swim.

Jimin didn’t get it.

Jimin didn’t get it.

“He’ll make you happier than I ever made you, Tae,” Jimin continued on. “And you’re going to get married, and maybe adopt some children, and you’re going to live out your every moment smiling, and you’ll think back and realize that this is for the best.”

“No,” Taehyung gasped out. He felt like he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe. Jimin didn’t understand that Taehyung had dreamt of having all of this with him. That he didn’t want any of that unless Jimin was by his side through it all.

Through his blurry vision, Taehyung saw Jimin grin at him, a broken but devastatingly genuine smile, the first he’s shown since Taehyung got here. Jimin’s eyes crinkled up into crescent moons and his little crooked tooth peeked out from his lips like a winking star.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung. Be happy.”

Day 184.

When Namjoon visited Jimin the next day, the door was unlocked.

Moving his way silently to the bedroom, concern making him move quicker than normal, he heard the sobs before he saw his friend.

Sighing, Namjoon laid down on top of the covers Jimin was buried under, wrapping himself around Jimin’s shaking frame, despite the fact that he knew his arms weren’t the ones that could keep Jimin from falling apart.

Day 200.

“I think it’s time for me to give up,” Taehyung leaned his head on Jungkook’s shoulder, the two of them sitting in the back of Yoongi’s pickup truck as the elder drove slowly towards the gas station.

Yoongi typically didn’t let them sit back there (he never let them forget the time he got a ticket because of it), but when the two of them had shown up to Taehyung’s parents’ house and Jungkook was already sitting in the back with a blanket over his lap, Taehyung smiled at Yoongi’s soft expression and climbed up wordlessly, shifting towards Jungkook’s warmth.

The sun was beginning to set.

Everything was awash in orange warmth, but Taehyung could hardly see it.

Could only focus on the coming night, the twilight that was soon to trickle in like poison, soaking everything in its blue ink.

Jungkook inhaled sharply, but didn’t say anything. Just curled his warm fingers around Taehyung’s.

“He let me go,” Taehyung confessed to the parting sun. “I was trying to hold on, and he let me go.”

Day 230.

Taehyung was a lightweight, and he knew it.

Still, that didn’t stop him from downing four shots of soju, chasing them down with beer to boot.

His head was swimming, and instead of making him feel better like he thought the alcohol would, he felt even more emotional. Even more sad.

He didn’t know what he was expecting — he’s always been the emotional drunk, the amount of times he’s cried in Seokjin’s bathtub whenever they decided to crack out the hard liquor after dinner showed that.

“You’re cut off for the night, hyung,” Jungwoon, the bartender, slid him a glass of water across the bar, one that Taehyung barely managed to catch. Scrunching his nose at his younger friend, one who he met a few years back in college, Taehyung slumped in defeat when he saw the unswayable glint in his eyes.

“Fine,” Taehyung slurred, taking tiny sips of his water. “I’ll go home then.”

“Let me call you a taxi.”

“No, no,” Taehyung waved a hand wildly in the air between them. “I need some air. Some air. I’ll walk.”

“Hyung, no.”

“My apartment is five minutes away, Jungwoon,” Taehyung said. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Jungwoon reluctantly let Taehyung go, a concerned glint in his eyes, but customers’ loud demands drawing his attention away from his hyung.

Taehyung stumbled out onto the sidewalk and immediately shivered, his skinny jeans and loose dress shirt doing nothing to fight against the cold air. Goosebumps dotted along his skin instantly, and Taehyung fought back the memories of Jimin warming his skin with his plush lips, kissing the cold away.

“Fuck,” Taehyung whispered, looking down at his feet and trying his best to walk straight.

The streetlights looked like they were swaying from side to side, and he relied on muscle memory to take him home.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice called out.

Taehyung ignored it, unsure if it was directed towards him or not.

“Hey,” a hand grabbed his arm, and Taehyung looked up into a stranger’s face. “You need a ride? You seem pretty out of it.”

“No, thank you,” Taehyung said immediately, stepping back to take his arm from the man’s grip.

He tried to keep moving forward, but was caught again. “I’m just trying to be nice. Come on, you’re going to collapse any second.”

“I said, no,” Taehyung gritted out, yanking his arm away for the second time.

“What is it with you pretty boys now, always thinking you’re so much fucking better than everybody else, huh?” the man was angry now, and this time when he took Taehyung’s arm it hurt. Alarm shot through Taehyung’s hazy mind, and he froze as fear began to sober him up slightly. “I’m trying to be nice. I’ll take you home, keep you warm…”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Taehyung said. “I have a fiancé.”

Lie.

Lie, lie, lie.

Taehyung wished with his entire heart that it wasn’t a lie.

The man sneered. “I don’t see a ring.”

The weight of the ring Taehyung impulsively bought for Jimin in college burned a hole through his pocket.

Why was he still carrying it around?
Why couldn’t he let go?

Why…why was Taehyung unable to do anything right?

Why hadn’t Taehyung been good enough for Jimin to keep?

Taehyung didn’t respond, just wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist, trying to detach himself from the bruising grip.

His head was still swimming, and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he needed to vomit, his heart racing and his stomach churning uncomfortably for many different reasons.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Taehyung froze.

He couldn’t decide whether he had the best or worst luck in the world.

Standing a few feet from them was Jimin, Jimin, who looked angry in a way Taehyung’s only seen him twice before.

The first was in college, when another guy had thought Yoongi stole his girlfriend, so he found Yoongi after class and decked him across the face.

When Jin had ran to Jimin and Taehyung hours later, frantic, telling the story in panicked fragments, Jimin’s entire demeanor had changed, going from his typical happy and gentle smiles to pure fury.

“Go to Yoongi,” was all he had said, and then he walked out of the building, uncaring of Taehyung’s questions directed towards him, reminding him that he had class in five minutes.

Jimin had come to Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared apartment that night to check on his hyung, and his bruised hand came up to gently caress Yoongi’s bruised cheek.

“Jimin,” Yoongi had shook his head at the sight of his bruises. “You idiot.”

“I took care of it, hyung,” was all Jimin said, eyes still dark. “Now where’s your ice?”

The second time was when he came to pick Taehyung up from class during their junior year of college.

Taehyung had always been a bit on the quirkier side, and he had grown up with thick skin, rarely ever caring what other people thought of him.

And that hadn’t changed even when he went to college — in a place where so many people were changing themselves in order to fit in, in order to find a group of friends, whether they were being true to themselves or not, Taehyung was determined to stay himself. And he was happy that he did, because he had found people who genuinely loved him for him, and most of all, him being himself was what gave him Jimin.

So when he had walked out of his theater class, he had barely noticed two of his classmates trailing behind him, brightening up when he saw Jimin waiting for him down the hall.

Before he could open his mouth to call out to his boyfriend, he felt a tiny push against his backpack, making him stumble forward a little.

A bit jostled and confused, Taehyung looked behind him to see his classmates walking closely behind him. Giving them a tentative smile, Taehyung decided it had been an accident and turned around to catch Jimin’s attention again.

But when he was shoved once more, a bit harder this time, he knew that it hadn’t been an accident.

Frozen and a bit unsure of what to do, Taehyung stood in place once he caught his balance, biting his lip.

Before he even had time to truly process the situation, however, Jimin had crossed the hall and slid his arm underneath Taehyung’s backpack to wrap it tight around his boyfriend’s waist, his skin warm against Taehyung’s back.

“Hey. Chansung-ssi, was it?” Jimin asked. Though the words were casual, Taehyung immediately knew that Jimin was mad. His hand was squeezing into the side of Taehyung’s waist tightly, flexing and unflexing repeatedly, and his words were laced with steel. “You’re in the dance department, aren’t you?”

Chansung, who was a grade below them, widened his eyes and immediately bowed towards Jimin. “Sunbae! I — yes, I am.”

Jimin’s smile was anything but friendly. “Well, if I see you touch my boyfriend again, you won’t be for much longer.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung protested weakly. Jimin, though not a senior yet, was already the best and most coveted dancer in the school, the apple of every dance instructor’s eye, and all of the other dancers were eager to be in his good graces. The fact that Jimin was looking so coldly towards Chansung had the younger boy deflating, and Taehyung felt a bit bad for him.

Raising a single eyebrow, he looked towards the other boy who had shoved Taehyung.

“And Kiyoung-ssi,” Jimin’s smile was acidic. “Say hi to our Seokjinnie-hyung for us during practice. Tell him we’ll see him at dinner.”

Kiyoung paled, and for a brief, hysterical moment Taehyung had to bite back a laugh that came from a hidden petty side of himself he never knew he had.

Seokjin, similar to Jimin and the dance department, was their university’s star soccer player. All the professors adored him, as he was charming and smart, and all of the junior players on the team looked up to him, Kiyoung being one of them.

The fact that Jimin knew so many people and their connections impressed Taehyung a bit, but then again he never doubted Jimin’s intelligence and observation skills — the sweet, gentle boy knew more than he let on, and it was only when someone he loved was hurt that he would show this side of himself.

Jimin had led Taehyung away without another word, and Kiyoung and Chansung had never bothered him again.

The moment they had exited the building, Jimin was hugging him, nuzzling into his neck like a puppy, asking if he was alright, and Taehyung had laughed then, happy that Jimin was back to his usual self.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he had said. “I wasn’t that bothered by it.”

Jimin had pulled back and looked him straight in the eye. “But I was. If anyone else does something like that again, let me know, yea?”

Taehyung had just grinned, stupidly in love, heart racing at the protective tone in Jimin’s voice.

It was nice, having someone else care so much about his wellbeing.

It was nice, being somebody’s somebody.

“Baby.”

“Mmm?” Taehyung hummed.

“You’ll let me know, yes?”

Leaning a bit to peck Jimin on his cheek, his lips lingered there and then playfully blew a raspberry, causing the other boy to shriek and swat him away. “Sure, Jimin-ah. I’ll always let you know.”

Now, as Jimin sauntered towards them, he had the same look on his face as the times before. Eyebrows lowered, gaze dark, jaw clenched.

When the man didn’t step away from Taehyung, Jimin physically inserted himself between the two, disconnecting his hold on Taehyung’s arm.

“I said, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Though Jimin was the smallest of the three, the anger that rolled off of him in waves had the man stepping back.

“Guessing you’re the fiancé?” the man sneered.

Jimin paused, and mortification ripped through Taehyung.

“That’s right.”

Taehyung flinched from behind Jimin’s back.

Just a lie, it was a lie.

Taehyung desperately wished it weren’t a lie.

“Maybe next time don’t let your fiancé go around getting shitfaced and stumbling all over the streets like a whore,” the man snapped, then turned and began walking away.

“You piece of—”

“Jimin,” Taehyung was quick to grab onto Jimin’s arm, preventing him from going after the stranger. “Stop. Stop.”

Jimin turned back to him, face twisted in so much anger, so much despair, so much darkness.

“I’m not going to let him fucking call you that, Taehyung. Let me go.”

“Why do you care?” Taehyung’s words came out in a whisper. “Why do you care what he calls me?”

Jimin froze.

“You’re the one who let me go, Jimin,” Taehyung continued. “You don’t have a right to fight for me anymore.”

“It’s different, this is—”

“It’s not!” Taehyung said. “This isn’t fair. You can’t — you can’t just pick or choose when you’re going to be there for me! You can’t just give me pieces of yourself at your own whim and convenience, that’s not…”

Taehyung trailed off, and suddenly he was dizzier than he had been all night. He stumbled, and Jimin reached out to steady him.

“Tae?”

Taehyung leaned to the side and emptied his stomach, tears of humiliation and heartache burning at the back of his eyes.

“Oh, Taehyung.”

Jimin patted his back until he got it all out, and then took his hand and lead him away from his own mess. “How much did you have to drink?”

Taehyung didn’t answer, just stumbled away from Jimin and plopped down onto the sidewalk, sitting on the curb and resting his head in his knees.

“Tae.”

“Don’t do this to me, Jimin. Please.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Don’t pretend like you care about me tonight and then go back to ignoring me in the morning. I can’t take it. I can’t.”

Jimin moved and sat beside Taehyung, and the weight of his body next to Taehyung’s was heartbreakingly familiar.

“Even when the sun rises, I will care for you, Taehyung. And when it sets just to start all over again — I’ll always love you.”

Taehyung flinched at the words.

Wanted to say how much he hated Jimin for saying that, hated Jimin for giving him hope, hated Jimin for hurting him over and over again.

“You don’t,” Taehyung said. “Not the way I love you.”

Jimin let out a bitter laugh.

“The way I love you is incomparable to anything else, Taehyung. But I’ve realized something.”

“What?”

“I can finally put into words why we had to break up.”

Taehyung was silent, just lifted his head and stared at Jimin, eyes wide.

The streets were wet, and the air was humid with a thick drizzle that had their clothes sticking to their skin.

“I think the way I love you is the way I also need to love myself,” Jimin confessed, eyes wide and trained upwards at the sky. The streetlights were illuminated on his face, and Taehyung watched in silence as red turned to green over Jimin’s smooth skin.

Jimin looked over at Taehyung slowly, wetness clinging to his lashes, and Taehyung couldn’t tell if they were rain or tears. “But I don’t know if I ever can. That’s why we can’t be together, Taehyung. My Taehyungie. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.”

“I can help you,” he tried. “I can help you see yourself the way I do, love yourself that way I do, I can…”

Jimin was already shaking his head. “The only one who can help me is me, Tae. I just…don’t know if I’ll ever be strong enough to.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Taehyung whispered automatically. His words were said like a promise, sure and heated and full of an unbreakable, devastating love.

Jimin’s lip quirked up into a sad half-smile. “You’ve always seen me in a bright light. Better than I actually am. I never deserved that. You. I never deserved you.”

Taehyung let out a long, slow breath. His gut felt as if it were doing flips inside of him, and he knew that it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. The entire time he and Jimin were together, he didn’t know that Jimin felt this way. Didn’t know that Jimin thought so poorly of himself, didn’t know that underneath the surface there was something darker underneath eating away at the person he loved most in the world.

He felt guilty now. Guilty and sad and angry and Taehyung was just sick of all this pain. Sick of seeing Jimin in pain.

He yearned for the old days, when the two were each others’ solaces, each others’ homes. Missed the days he could huddle in the warmth of Jimin’s arms and forget the entire world that was so cruel to him at times. Missed the days Jimin would come home from work or class exhausted and Taehyung would know exactly what to do and say to get him smiling again within minutes.

Taehyung missed everything about Jimin.

Missed everything about them together.

“Were you going to walk all the way back to your parents’ house? It’s five miles away,” Jimin said.

Taehyung started with the sudden realization.

The entire time he was walking, he had…been walking to his and Jimin’s old apartment.

Sudden tears welled up in his eyes and fell silently down his cheeks at the realization.

“Tae?” Jimin sounded panicked then, a hand coming up to wipe at his cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

Taehyung let out a wet laugh. “I was walking home.”

“I’m not going to let you walk five miles in the dark, Tae. I’ll call you a taxi…”

“I was walking home,” Taehyung choked out again.

And when Jimin fell silent, Taehyung knew he understood.

While he was drunk and lonely and emotional, his feet had automatically gravitated towards Jimin.

Towards what he and Jimin had built together, towards something that had completely fallen apart.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered.

Taehyung choked on everything he wanted to say.

If you’re sorry, then take me back.

If you’re sorry, then let me come home.

If you’re sorry, then fight for us.

But deep down, he knew that the words wouldn’t sway Jimin.

Jimin, who was stubborn and strong and prideful and vulnerable and lost and driven all at once, a walking paradox, a thousand beautiful contradictions wrapped up like a shining gift.

Deep down, Taehyung knew that Jimin was right.

This was Jimin’s fight, and Taehyung had been getting in the way.

As terrible as that sounded, as much as it broke Taehyung’s heart that he couldn’t help Jimin, his Jimin, the one who’s helped him through so much, Taehyung understood.

Finally, he understood, at least a little bit more.

When the taxi came, Jimin opened the door for him and told the driver his parents’ address, which he still had memorized by heart.

Taehyung closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest, the warmth of the car making him sleepy.

He felt Jimin’s hand brush against his cheek once, then the door was shutting and he was driving away.

Taehyung looked back and watched Jimin’s figure stare after the car until they turned a corner and he was suddenly out of sight.

Day 250.

Jimin knocked on the familiar door in front of him, and a warm, genuine smile found its way onto his lips when Jin opened the door.

“Hyung.”

Jin let out a small smile of his own, and pulled him into a hug. “Jungkook’s inside.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook bounded up to them in sweatpants and a large sweater, and took the bags from Jimin’s arms. “You came.”

“Of course,” Jimin said.

The three of them settled on the couch with their takeout and the TV on low.

“How was it?” Jin asked, straight to the point. His eyes were trained on his meal, but his tone was inviting, concerned, warm.

“It was…good. I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t feel…much different? I don’t know,” Jimin sighed.

Jungkook nudged him a bit with his shoulder. “Hyung, you won’t be completely different after just one therapy session. It takes time, you know?”

“Yea, I guess,” Jimin muttered.

“Even so,” Jin said. “This is a good and brave thing you’re doing, Jimin. I think this is going to help you a lot. Hyung is proud of you.”

“And I am too,” Jungkook said. The rare moment of sweetness was so different from their typical teasing and sarcastic remarks, and Jimin felt himself relax.

He did feel brave for going.

He felt as if he were doing something, at least, to try and help himself.

And seeing the pride in both Jin and Jungkook’s eyes, for a brief moment, Jimin was proud of himself as well.

And it was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Day 280.

Kim Taehyung,

It is with great delight that I offer you the lead role of Our Sun is Forever. We believe that you are the best fit for this role, and we look forward to working with you and the rest of the cast and crew to bring this drama to life. Attached are the script and schedules…

Taehyung stopped reading in order to jump from his chair and scream in delight. He ran downstairs, vibrant happiness swirling in his chest, and ran straight into his mom, whose smile grew excited and warm when he told her the news.

They held each other in their arms, swaying slowly from side to side, the scent of his eomma’s hair bringing a soft smile to Taehyung’s face.

Though this wasn’t Taehyung’s first acting job, it was his first time getting the lead role, and on a drama that was being highly advertised as well. This was going to expose him to the eyes of the public more than any other role he’s ever had, and it was both exhilarating and frightening, his dreams finally within reach and beckoning for him with shining hands.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” his mom whispered. “This is just the beginning for you.”

“It feels like a dream,” he half-laughed.

Though he was ecstatic, feeling as if he were on a hot air balloon untethered to the ground, rising higher and higher until he could reach out and grasp the stars, Taehyung wished he could tell Jimin.

Wished that his first instinct hadn’t been to reach for his phone and call him.

“You deserve this, Tae,” his mom said. “You deserve to be happy.”

Taehyung let out a long breath.

“Yea,” he agreed. “I know.”

Day 285.

“Oh? Taehyung isn’t with you this year?”

Jimin stiffened.

He was at the annual work party, which they held every year so that the nurses and doctors could shed their scrubs and put on suits and evening gowns instead, and lose themselves in the champagne and the expensive steak and the thrill of seeing each other outside of a professional setting.

Yejin, one of his fellow nurses, looked at him with confused eyes. The question simply showed how distant Jimin was from his other coworkers — though the nurses often went out to eat together after shifts, he would most often decline so he could get home to Taehyung faster. When they sat together and gossiped during break, Jimin would grow bored with the conversation and often pull his phone out, wanting to see what Taehyung was doing instead.

He realized that in a way, he had isolated himself, was so wrapped up in Taehyung’s garden that he forgot he had his own flowers to take care of, as well.

“No,” Jimin said, blood rushing in his ears. “I — he’s sick.”

Jimin didn’t know where the lie came from, didn’t know why it came out.

When Yejin nodded in sympathy and patted his arm, wishing his ex-boyfriend to better health soon, Jimin swallowed thickly.

He had been missing Taehyung that night, moreso than usual.

As he had done his hair and tied his own tie and slipped on his dress shoes, the apartment had been uncomfortably quiet.

He had looked up from just inside his front door and remembered the year before, remembered smiling fondly as his gaze landed on Taehyung messing with his hair in the mirror by the door.

“You look beautiful,” Jimin remembered saying.

And he had.

He always did.

That year Taehyung had worn a dark maroon suit, and his hair had been dyed back to his natural black. He had looked striking, and Jimin could hardly contain the heat in his stomach that entire night.

Taehyung had turned to smile at him then, all teeth and a crinkled nose and bright eyes.
“Come on, then, the taxi’s downstairs,” Jimin had coaxed, moving to grab Taehyung’s coat from the closet. When he emerged, the thick wool material draped over his arm, he looked up to see that Taehyung hadn’t moved, just stared at Jimin with hooded eyes.

Jimin forced a smile not to slip onto his lips, knowing that Taehyung wanted a kiss, and sighed heavily as if going to give his boyfriend a kiss was burdensome, when in fact his heart was clenching in the way that only ever happened around Taehyung.

When Jimin got close enough, Taehyung had reached out and dragged him the rest of the way, pressing their chests together and immediately hoisting him up.

“You look so fucking good,” Taehyung hummed against his lips, warm and familiar and home.

Jimin just made a noise in the back of his throat in response, eyes shut and winding his arms around Taehyung tighter.

Taehyung’s tongue met his and suddenly he was backed into the table right underneath the mirror, Taehyung’s coat previously on his arm now on the floor.

“We need to go,” Jimin pulled back and laughed, gazing up at Taehyung’s flushed cheeks and shining lips.

Jimin remembered faltering for a single moment, because that man was his.

The man that had stellar eyes and a summerday soul, filled to the brim with kindness and gentility and a heart bigger than any other Jimin’s ever known — that man loved Jimin.

“Baby?”

A hand came to press in-between the small of Jimin’s back and the mirror, concern clouding Taehyung’s eyes. “What’s the matter?”

Jimin blinked back the sudden rush of emotion that filled his eyes, and laughed lightly. “I just…I’m so fucking glad you’re mine.”

Taehyung’s face broke out into a grin, then, and he tipped their foreheads together, swaying them lightly from side to side, and Jimin was surrounded by everything that was Taehyung — the material of his suit and the smell of his minty shampoo and the softness of his lips as he pressed them against Jimin’s. He kissed Jimin in a way that promised forever, and Jimin drank that in and let it engulf his entire soul — let Taehyung engulf everything that he had to offer and more.

“And you’re mine,” Taehyung crooned back. “Forever, Jimin.”

Jimin nodded and leaned his head on Taehyung’s shoulder. “It’s a promise.”

This year, Jimin had gotten ready in silence, and now, standing amidst his coworkers, he realized that he hadn’t made a real connection with any of them, despite being around them almost every day for the past few years.

And that was…sad. And unlike Jimin.

Growing up, Jimin had always been the friendliest in the room, a smile ready for anybody and everybody who approached him. He made friendships easily, and he had liked knowing so many people, liked walking down the halls and seeing so many friendly and familiar faces.

Now, though, Jimin realized that he hadn’t felt that way in a long time. When his coworkers went out to deepen their friendship, often going to bars and noraebangs and restaurants, Jimin was content with not trying with them.

Because Jimin had had Taehyung to fall back on, always.

Until he didn’t anymore.

“Jimin-ssi? Are you okay?”

When Jimin looked back up at his coworker, he let out a long breath.

“Actually…not really,” the words came out before Jimin could stop them. “I lied to you just now. I’m sorry. Taehyung and I…we actually…we’re not together anymore.”

Her face melted into shock and compassion, and she reached out and grabbed her hand.

“Oh, no. Do you want to talk about it?”

So Jimin did.

She got him more champagne and listened with an attentive ear and rubbed his back when he got choked up.

And Jimin realized that there were so many beautiful people in the world, so many with hearts the size of oceans and compassion as infinite as the night sky.

He didn’t know when he had stopped seeing that in people.

When he had stopped seeing the light that shone from everybody’s words and smiles and mannerisms.

When he had stopped seeing his own.

As the night ended, Jimin felt lighter than he had in a long, long time. He flagged down a taxi for Yejin and waved to her as she got into the backseat.

“I’ll see you at work next week, Yejin-ssi,” Jimin said. “Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Yejin smiled and reached out to ruffle Jimin’s hair. “Call me noona, Jimin-ah. You call me if you need me, yea? I’ll see you soon. Everything’s going to be okay.”

As Jimin watched the taxi drive away, he stood there smiling underneath the bright streetlights.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he repeated to himself.

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and exhaled, watching his own breath fan around his head.

For some reason, the sight of it made him smile.

The sight of it reminded him he was alive, and that the world around him was vibrant and giving.

Jimin walked home instead of calling a taxi, reveling in the cold air, a tiny little bounce in his step.

Day 300.

They ran into each other as if pulled by a magnet.

It was underneath a large billboard plastered with Taehyung’s face, advertising his new drama.

The sun was setting and the shadows were becoming blue as day laid itself down to rest.

“Jimin,” Taehyung said, instinctively reaching out to catch the other.

Jimin blinked in surprise.

He looked better than the last time Taehyung had saw him — healthier, cheeks flushed with color, a little warmth back in his eyes.

“Taehyung,” Jimin let out a tiny, unsure smile. “Sorry about that.”

“You never did watch where you were going,” Taehyung teased.

Jimin gifted him a small laugh. Taehyung wished it were a permanent thing he could bundle up and keep in his pocket for rainy days. “Yea, you always hated that.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Didn’t hate it. Don’t hate anything about you.”

Jimin just looked at him and sighed, expression indiscernible.

“Congratulations, Taetae,” Jimin’s voice came out soft, airy, proud.

“For what?”

Though Taehyung knew what. When Jimin quirked a brow and glanced up at the billboard above them, Taehyung’s face beaming back down at him like the moon, Taehyung let out a little embarrassed laugh.

“Thanks, Jimin,” he said sincerely. “I’m really happy with it. The whole process…it’s been crazy, but so fun, and my costars—“

Taehyung cut himself off with a small jerk, bit down hard on his lip. “I…don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Sorry. Force of habit, I guess.”

“No!” Jimin said. “I…I want to know. I want to know how you are, always.”

Taehyung paused for a beat. “Well, I’m good. Really good, just busy, with all the filming and all. But how are you? Are you…okay? Are you happy, Jimin?”

Jimin rocked back and forth once on the balls of his feet.

“I’m…getting there,” Jimin said slowly.

Taehyung smiled, and the genuine relief and undercurrents of pride that swam in his eyes filled Jimin with warmth.

“That’s everything I needed to hear, then,” Taehyung whispered.

The two lapsed into a small, awkward silence, one that they’ve never experienced together before, not even in the early days of their friendship.

“I’ve gotta…”

“Oh! Yea, okay…”

Neither of them made the first move to walk away.

Before he could stop himself, Taehyung reached out and squeezed Jimin’s hand once.

The familiar weight of Jimin’s fingers between his filled him with a melancholy, not the desperate hurt that would have showed up some months ago, but just with a resigned sticky sadness that coated his insides like glue.

“I really am proud of you, Jimin,” Taehyung said. “Namjoon-hyung told me about the therapy.”

Jimin just shrugged. “I’m working things out,” was all he said.

Taehyung paused, drew in a breath to speak then abruptly cut himself off, instead reaching an arm up to rub the back of his neck.

“Do you think…that could include working us out?”

Jimin blinked in shock.

Wanted to say yes.

Yes, yes, yes, I miss you, I can’t live without you, I think about you every day, all your pictures are still cluttering my phone and my laptop and my desk space.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I still don’t feel…I don’t know. I need to think. I need more time.”

“Do you still love me?” Taehyung asked, eyes blazing. “I know it’s not fair. For me to ask you this. But I just…”

“You just what?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you,” Taehyung said. The sun was beaming down on them, cheerfully invading their blue world.

“I don’t want to ask you to wait for me,” Jimin replied.

“Do you still love me?”

Jimin stayed silent.

“Jimin-ah, please.”

“Of course,” Jimin confessed. “Just as much as before. Maybe more every day.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

Taehyung was overcome with determination and hope.

“I can’t ask you to, Tae, I don’t even know when…”

“I’d wait forever,” Taehyung said. “For the rest of my fucking life, I’d…there’s no one else for me.”

Jimin shook his head, a million responses running through his mind, almost all of them containing something self-deprecating.

He didn’t voice any of them.

There was one tiny rampant thought underneath all of the other ones, one shining star that told him maybe it was true.

Maybe he and Taehyung were made for each other.

Maybe he could allow himself this one, selfish thing.

Maybe…maybe he could fix things with Taehyung.

But not before he fixed things with himself.

So Jimin let out a shaky breath, and nodded.

“I’m not expecting you to wait. Don’t feel tied down to me, Taehyung. But…I’ll call you? When things feel a little less heavy, I’ll come back to you.”

Whether you still love me or not was perched on the tip of his tongue, but he bit the words back. Knew that Taehyung would protest, but Jimin also knew that humans were fickle, and promises were crystal vases teetering on the edge of a table. But whether or not Taehyung was still in love with him, when Jimin was ready, he wanted to see his ex again. He wanted to explain everything, he wanted to open his heart to Taehyung, even if it was going to be the last time.

“I’ll be waiting,” Taehyung promised.

Jimin nodded, too overwhelmed to say a proper goodbye, and began walking away.

“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung called. Jimin turned back, and Taehyung’s expression was set in a serious frown, one that was rarely on his typically beaming face. “I mean it. Come back to me. I’ll wait.”

Suddenly overcome with a huge wave of affection for the boy he’s loved for most of his adult life, Jimin quirked a tiny smile.

“Even if I take ten years?”

“Take twenty,” Taehyung said with no hesitation. “Thirty. I’ll wait.”

Jimin’s smile faded, and melted into something softer, something a little ruminative.

When Jimin got home that night, he no longer saw Taehyung’s ghost walking around the apartment.

Maybe it would be back, or maybe it left through the fire escape, or maybe it was hiding under the sheets the way Taehyung would on especially cold days.

Or maybe Jimin just didn’t need him anymore.

Maybe Jimin was okay by himself, for now.

He made himself a mug of tea and sat down on the couch, befriending the silence.

Day 310.

Jimin came home with shaking hands.

He took deep breaths, and sat down slowly on his couch.

The events from earlier in the day broke into the safe space of his apartment and attacked him, making him remember the way the charge nurse called him into her office after lunch.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go, Jimin-ssi.”

The thought echoed in his mind as if he had shouted it in a large, abandoned house.

Let you go.

Let you go.

Strangely, the first thing that came to mind after she told him this were those words, but in his own voice, directed towards the man he loved most in the world.

“I’m letting you go, Tae,” was what Jimin had told him.

Somehow, hearing those same words today, Jimin knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of that statement.

Jimin took a moment to collect himself.

Tried to think about what he needed. Did he want to be alone? Or did he want company? Did he want to sleep or did he want to distract himself?

Jimin was now jobless, and that was a fact that sat heavy in his stomach. He swallowed harshly and clenched his hands into fists.

“It’s okay,” he told himself. “It’s okay. You can just apply at a different hospital. You have enough savings to last for a while. Things like this happen to everyone.”

Still, despite his own reassuring words, a few tears managed to slip down his cheeks. “Things like this happen, it’s okay,” he whispered again to himself.

And he believed those words, he did. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. It didn’t prevent him from feeling a familiar pang of uselessness itching at his skin like a healing wound that he couldn’t help but pick at.

Suddenly, Jimin’s phone rang.

For a long moment, Jimin let the shrill noise split the silence, debating on whether or not he wanted to ignore it.

But something had him sitting up and picking it up from the table, and he let out a tiny noise of surprise when he saw Taehyung’s familiar contact picture beaming at him from the screen.

He hadn’t changed Taehyung’s contact in his phone — his name was still surrounded by a ridiculous amount of purple hearts, and the sight of the familiar screen had Jimin realizing it was something he hadn’t seen in almost a year, when before he and Taehyung talked on the phone or texted every day.

Before he could overthink, Jimin swiped his thumb across the screen and held the phone up to his ear.

“Taehyung?”

“You picked up,” the shock in Taehyung’s voice was evident.

“Of course,” Jimin found himself saying. “I…do you need something?”

Taehyung was silent for a long time.

“Tae?”

When Jimin heard Taehyung inhale shakily, he stood from the couch. The sound was familiar to him — it was the exact sound Taehyung always made when he was trying to hold back tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I actually don’t even know why I called,” Taehyung blurted, letting out a watery laugh. “I just…”

Jimin stayed silent, the sound of his own breathing too loud, opening and shutting his mouth again and again, unsure of whether he should break the delicacy of the situation with his own voice.

“You just…”

“I just really wanted to hear your voice,” Taehyung choked out.

“Oh, Tae…” Jimin breathed out. “Are you okay?”

Taehyung stayed silent.

“I — I’ll come over,” Jimin said.

“What?”

“If you need me to, I’ll come over,” Jimin said again.

“No, Jimin,” Taehyung said. “I don’t want you to force yourself to just because you feel bad for me. Fuck, this was stupid. I’m sorry. You must be tired after work and I just—”

“Taehyung,” Jimin walked towards the table where he set his keys down. “I want to. I want to see you.”

Taehyung stayed silent, unsure.

“I need…I needed to hear your voice, too,” Jimin whispered. “Please let me come to you.”

“Okay,” Taehyung finally acquiesced. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Jimin said, slinging a jacket over his arm. “I’ll see you soon.”

As the taxi took Jimin down the familiar streets to Taehyung’s childhood home, he found himself shaking his leg up and down, eager to see Taehyung.

Eager to hear Taehyung’s voice, eager to be able to meet Taehyung’s eyes again, eager to just be and exist in the same room as Taehyung.

Jimin slammed the door shut and walked up the porch steps, worn down from years and years’ worth of visiting friends and family, and knocked on the door.

When Taehyung’s mom opened the door, both of them blinked at each other in shock.

Immediately, Jimin felt a sudden wave of embarrassment and guilt. She must know all about how he broke Taehyung’s heart, even after she and Mr. Kim had trusted him with Taehyung for so many years. She must hate Jimin down to his very core, and so Jimin immediately bent into a 90 degree bow.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed out, overwhelmed at the emotion in him.

Seven years ago, Jimin had been in the exact same position in the exact same place, meeting Taehyung’s parents for the first time.

He had bowed deeply, showing his respect for the people who raised the love of his life.

“Jimin-ah,” her soft voice called. “Come here.”

When Jimin held the bow for a bit longer, her gentle hand cupped his chin and brought him up again. Their eyes met, and hers were endlessly soft and sad and understanding in ways it shouldn’t have been looking at the man who broke her son’s heart.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered again, vulnerably. And he was. He was sorry for everything, sorry for being the cause of so much pain. Not just for Taehyung, but for the rest of their friends as well, who have had to bounce back and forth between the pair, unwilling to take sides but still wanting to show both of them support.

When Mrs. Kim drew him into a hug, he sagged a bit to lower himself to her height, wrapping his arms around her waist. The scent of her perfume hit him hard — she smelled like jasmine flowers and a hint of tea, and it was so comforting and familiar that Jimin had to resist the urge to nuzzle his face into her neck.

“I’ve known you for seven years, Jimin,” she murmured into his ear. “I know you. I know that whatever happened between you and Taehyung, there was a reason. I’m not angry with you, I’m just sad. Sad because two people I love very much are sad, and have been sad for the better part of a year.”

“It was all my fault,” Jimin said.

“Nothing and nobody is perfect in this world, you know. Sometimes things fall apart.”

She pulled back and reached up to cup his cheeks in her hands. The bite of her wedding ring was cold against Jimin’s skin.

“But for those who want it badly enough, things come back together.”

Jimin bit his lip, suddenly yearning for a bit of validation from someone who was so important to Taehyung.

“Do you think I deserve it? For us to come back together.”

Mrs. Kim looked at him with eyes that were the exact same shade of brown as Taehyung’s.

“I think you both deserve the world. The love between you and Taehyung was always warm and respectful and strong. A love like that…there’s no reason for it to die.”

When Jimin looked up, he found Taehyung watching them from the top of the stairs, an unreadable expression on his face.

Mrs. Kim released him and Jimin walked up, absentmindedly skipping the step that creaked.

When Taehyung held out a hesitant hand for him, Jimin grabbed onto it tightly.

They walked back towards Taehyung’s room, and when Jimin saw the familiar yellow blanking laying over the bed, he immediately burst into tears.

“Jimin,” Taehyung panicked, reaching out and pulling him close.

Somehow, the two of them ended up tucked underneath the warm fleece, nose to nose. Jimin had calmed down and now he was laying with his eyes closed, finding comfort in the way Taehyung’s rhythmic breathing brushed against his cheeks again and again.

“Sorry,” he finally croaked out. “I came here for you and I ended up crying.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize for feeling things, Jimin. Not with me.” Taehyung murmured. “You know that, right?”

Jimin opened his eyes to meet Taehyung’s.

It was something that he thought he knew before, but hadn’t truly believed.

Jimin had always felt like a burden, always hated himself for having bad days, always cursed every frown and concern that made its way into Taehyung’s life because of him.

But now, Jimin was beginning to realize that it was okay.

That these emotions made him human, and Taehyung would love him despite them, throughout them. Because if they stayed together throughout the darkest days, Jimin wouldn’t be dragging Taehyung down with him — Taehyung would be pulling him up.

Whenever Taehyung had his bad days, Jimin didn’t resent him for them. He didn’t think Taehyung was useless or dragging him down — all he wanted was to make Taehyung smile again, to hear his quiet laugh and feel his warm skin against his own.

And it was unfair and selfish of Jimin to think that he was doing Taehyung a favor by pulling away, not wanting to bring sadness into his life, when by breaking up with him brought Taehyung the worst sadness imaginable.

As Taehyung continued staring at him, waiting for an answer, Jimin smiled in the dark.

“I think I”m beginning to.”

Day 311.

The pair had fallen asleep cocooned in each others’ comforting warmth. They easily fell back into their typical sleeping position, Taehyung burying his face into the back of Jimin’s neck, an arm slung around the smaller’s waist, legs tangled together, hands intertwined.

Now, the two were sitting and nursing their mugs of tea in the early afternoon, staring off towards the flowers Mrs. Kim had planted.

“People hate me,” Taehyung said suddenly.

Jimin looked over, confused. “What?”

“People hate me,” Taehyung repeated. “Online. I guess it comes with the territory of becoming a bit more well known as an actor, but…”

“Taehyung,” Jimin shook his head. “Those people are strangers. They don’t know shit about you. What they say about you does not define who you are.”

“I know that,” Taehyung sighed out. “I know. But it still…hurts. To come online to see that hundreds of strangers hate you for being…you.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin defended. “They don’t know you. They only hate the version of you that they’ve created in their minds.”

“That version of me must have been based off the real me, though,” Taehyung said sadly.

Jimin was silent for a beat, then moved closer, bringing a hand up to gently pull Taehyung’s head to lean against his shoulder.

It was a bit of an awkward angle, Taehyung having to slouch a bit lower to reach its height, but they both relaxed into the position all the same.

“Was this why you called last night?” Jimin asked.

“I couldn’t stop looking,” Taehyung said. “I know I should have put my phone away, but I just kept scrolling and scrolling and…”

Jimin reached down and squeezed their hands together.

“It doesn’t define you,” Jimin said. “Focus on the people who love you. Both in real life and online. You know who you are, Taehyung, and who you are is a person worthy of love. You have to hold on to that.”

Taehyung didn’t say anything, and they sat in silence for a while, their breaths slowing to match each others’.

Jimin knew that when Taehyung was being eaten at by sadness, he appreciated silence the most. The quiet soothed at his aching soul and drew the hurt from it with gentle, slow hands.

After their mugs were drained and their stomachs were warm, Jimin took a deep breath.

“I lost my job yesterday.”

Taehyung jerked up, looked at Jimin with wide eyes. “What?”

Jimin looked out towards the garden, unseeing. “Yea,” he shrugged.

“Jimin,” Taehyung said. “How could they…? But you work so hard. I don’t understand.”

“It happens, Tae,” Jimin murmured. “I guess funds got cut, and the hospital became overstaffed, so…”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Taehyung growled out. “Can’t you…I’ll…we can go and—”

“Taehyung,” Jimin was startled to find a genuine laugh bubble out of his throat. Found a familiar piece of fondness for Taehyung in the way he reacted towards anything that hurt Jimin. “It’s okay. Getting laid off isn’t uncommon.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows were still furrowed, but he settled. “I’m never going back there again, fuck them,” he pouted in a childish show of support.

This time, Jimin threw his head back and laughed loudly, freely. “It’s the closest hospital to us, Tae, I don’t know if you’ll have a choice.”

“I’d rather give myself stitches,” Taehyung said dramatically, peeking from the corner of his eye just to watch as Jimin laughed again.

Once they calmed, Taehyung’s face went serious again. “Really, though, are you okay?”

Jimin opened his mouth to say yes, to say that he was fine, but then really considered it.

Was he okay?

He felt okay, now, with the morning sun creating pools of warmth around them, with Taehyung’s skin against his, with the familiar taste of Mrs. Kim’s chamomile tea on his tongue.

“I think I’m more okay than I thought I’d be,” Jimin admitted.

“You know that it’s…not your fault, right? This doesn’t say anything about how qualified or smart or talented you are, it was just…bad luck. A poor decision on their part.”

Jimin hummed.

“I’m here for you,” Taehyung murmured, soft and lovely.

Jimin felt his throat close tight, hated himself for wanting to cry all the time.

“I know that now,” he said. “I know that now.”

Day 320.

“So are you two back together?” Namjoon asked, picking the arugula out from his sandwich and tossing the offending leaves onto his napkin.

“No,” Jimin admitted. “I mean…I don’t know. Not officially. I just want to…figure things out a little more.”

And it was true — Jimin was figuring things out.

In-between the job hunting and applying, Jimin was seeing his therapist, finding happiness in things he had forgotten made him smile, like opening the blinds to feel the sun in the morning and reading in the park and inviting people out for lunch.

He had been texting Yejin regularly, who was equally outraged that Jimin had gotten laid off, and they had been having weekly wine nights in which Yejin complained about her husband and rambunctious cat. Jimin found joy in creating new attachments and friendships, but most of all, he found joy in finding pockets of happiness within himself, made by himself for himself. And though Jimin did have moments where he was sad, and insecure, he didn’t let it eat at him anymore. He let himself feel it, let himself know that it was valid, but the darkness didn’t consume him — he could finally reach up towards the sky and see his fingers backlit by the sun.

“Besides,” Jimin continued. “I don’t even know if he wants to get back together. He…I don’t want to assume that he’s just been waiting for me, this whole time.”

“Didn’t he say that he’d wait for you?” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but…I don’t know, hyung, I just feel bad about it. I didn’t want him to. I don’t want him to think I’m taking advantage of him, just running back to him when I need him and then dropping him when I don’t…”

“Jimin-ah,” Namjoon sighed. “I don’t know if you like, know yourself at all, but that is the last thing anybody, especially Taehyungie, thinks of you, okay? We know you’re not like that. Just the fact that you’ve been thinking so much about this speaks for itself, okay?”

Jimin relaxes a bit, comforted.

“Have you seen him since the day you slept over?”

“No,” Jimin said again. “But we’ve been texting more. And talking on the phone. It…I think that’s enough for us, right now.”

Namjoon hummed around a bite of sandwich.

“I applied for more jobs,” Jimin said.

Dimples cheered for him from their home on Namjoon’s cheeks. “That’s good! Tell me as soon as you find out.”

Jimin nodded, sipping on his tea. The two were out for lunch on a Saturday with surprisingly good weather, and Jimin felt a rush of unbridled fondness as he watched Namjoon’s face scrunch up in utter disgust.

Quickly plopping his sandwich down onto his plate, Namjoon reached towards his mouth and yanked a strand of arugula from his lips.

Jimin let out a laugh. “Why didn’t you just ask for no arugula, hyung?”

“I forgot,” Namjoon choked out.

Reaching over, Jimin snagged a stray arugula peeking out from Namjoon’s sandwich.

“Hyung,” he said, placing the leaf on top of the green pile Namjoon had made prior. “Thank you.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “You were the one who paid for lunch, dummy.”

Jimin scrunched his nose. “Not for lunch. For…everything else. For always being here. The all-nighters in college when I didn’t understand material for an exam. The times I called you after parties when Tae and I were too drunk to walk home alone. For coming after Taehyung and I split up. For giving me the therapist’s number. For…for everything.”

A sudden flick came towards his forehead and Jimin flinched.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Namjoon said. “I love you. When the people I love depend on me in their time of need…I think that just shows that they love me too. It shows that I can run to them when it’s my turn to hurt. You can count on me always, Jimin, the way I can count on  you, yea?”

Jimin and Namjoon held eye contact, both of their smiles growing.

“Yea,” Jimin breathed out. “Always.”

Day 331.

“I got the job,” Jimin screamed into his empty apartment. He threw his bag down onto the couch and danced wildly for a moment, wiggling his arms in the air and laughing out loud.

He took a moment to celebrate with himself, grinning up at the ceiling, before rushing for his bag and fishing out his phone, immediately dialing Taehyung’s number.

“Hello?”

“I got the job!” Jimin shouted again, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Fuck yes!” Taehyung screamed through the receiver. They both burst into giddy laughter, and Jimin couldn’t keep still.

“I’m so happy for you, Chim, oh my god—”

“This one pays even better than the last job! And the hospital’s not too far from the apartment, and I think I have opportunities for advancement, and…!”

“Jimin, breathe,” Taehyung laughed fondly. “This is amazing, baby. I’m so, so proud of you.”

Jimin felt as if he were going to vibrate right out of his body, and he flopped down onto the couch with a happy sigh.

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” he laughed breathlessly. “I just found out.”

“I’m honored to be the first, Chim,” Taehyung’s voice was quieter now, something deeper hanging onto the edges of his words.

Jimin bit his lip.

He suddenly is thinking about how Taehyung was all of his firsts — first kiss, first relationship, first love…

“Jimin?”

“You’ll always be first, Tae,” Jimin breathed out.

Taehyung paused.

“Can we meet?”

Day 332.

“I just hope he didn’t just agree because he was riding the high of finding out he got the job,” Taehyung said, running his fingers through his hair.

“He wouldn’t,” Hoseok reassured him, Yoongi nodding along from behind.

“Besides, you said you were the first one he called, right?”

“Yea.”

“What was that shitty saying your mom always told us, Seok?” Yoongi asked.

“Hey, don’t call my mom’s sayings shitty,” Hoseok jabbed his elbow into Yoongi’s side.

Yoongi ignored him, eyes trained towards the ceiling as he thought. “She always said something along the lines of…you know you love someone when you want them when you’re sad. When you want to feel their arms around you when you’re crying, when you find comfort in just their voice.”

“But you know you’re in love with someone,” Hoseok continued. “When you want them when you’re happy. When you get good news and they’re the first person you call. When you hear a funny joke and the first thing you think is, ‘I can’t wait to tell them.’ When you’re having a good day and you wish they were there to share it with you.”

Taehyung looked between the two, grinning.

“That does sound like something your mom would say, hyung.”

The three of them laughed fondly, and Yoongi reached out to ruffle Taehyung’s hair.

“I actually agree with it, though,” he said. “I know things have been rough, Tae. For both of you. But just like how things can get bad, things can also become good again, yea? Have faith in Jimin and in yourself.”

Thoroughly comforted by his hyungs’ words, Taehyung grinned.

“You two are going to be the sappiest parents in the future.”

He escaped the protests and slaps as he slipped out the door, making his way to the park he and Jimin agreed to meet at.

When he got there, he immediately found Jimin sat on a bench. Taehyung naturally gravitated towards him, and closing the distance between them felt different somehow, this time. It felt a little more permanent, a little more hopeful.

“Tae,” Jimin breathed out when Taehyung was within hearing distance.

“Hi,” Taehyung responded. There was a strange shyness in him that was never there before around Jimin, and he fidgeted.

Jimin patted the spot on the bench next to him, and Taehyung sat down, right leg bouncing up and down.

“How are you?” Jimin asked gently.

“Good,” Taehyung said.

“Are you really?” Jimin quirked a concerned eyebrow, reaching out to place a hang on Taehyung’s fidgeting leg.

“Nervous, I guess,” Taehyung laughed. “I don’t know why. It’s you. It’s us.”

“Yea,” Jimin agreed. “It’s just us. But if you’re nervous, you can show it, it’s okay. It’s just us.”

Taehyung nodded, relaxed a bit.

“Congratulations on the new job,” Taehyung said sincerely. “I really am happy for you, you know.”

Jimin’s eyes crinkled up in delight. “Thanks, Tae. I’m happy, too.”

The two lapsed into silence, then it was Jimin’s turn to fidget.

“I’ve missed you,” Jimin said quietly.

Though they had seen each other recently, Taehyung knew what he meant. Knew what he meant because Taehyung had missed Jimin, too, to amounts that he would have previously thought possible.

“I’ve missed you too,” Taehyung said.

“I got you something,” Jimin blurted.

He reached down and picked up a little purple gift bag, placing it on Taehyung’s lap.

Confused at the sudden present, Taehyung reached past the tissue paper and pulled out a Starry Night mug.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathed out.

“The morning after our fight,” Jimin explained. “I was so…I broke it. Your old one. So I went back to the same place I bought it in college and got another one.”

Taehyung stared at the ceramic mug in his hands, free from the chips and wear and tear that had been in his old one.

He ran his hands over the design, tracing the swirling sky with his fingertips.

“You can put it in its old place in our cupboard, if you want,” Jimin continued quietly.

Stunned at Jimin’s words, Taehyung looked up quickly.

“What?”

Jimin bit his lip, eyes hopeful and looking right into Taehyung’s.

“I…if you wanted to…I was wondering if you would…take me back. And move back in. I know what I did was wrong, Tae, and I completely understand if you say no, but I know myself better now. I — nothing like this would ever happen again, I promise, and I’m willing to work through things when things get rough and I’m so sorry for everything. But I just—“

Jimin cut himself off, rubbed a hand over his face.

“I miss you,” he said again.

“You really hurt me.” Taehyung said quietly.

“I know,” Jimin looked devastated.

“But I know that you were hurting, too,” Taehyung continued. “I wanted to be there for you, through your pain. That’s what people who love each other do, Jimin. We’re soft places for the other person to land when they’re too tired to keep going.”

“I know that now,” Jimin said. “I know that now.”

“I wanted you to find happiness in me,” Taehyung said.

“You make me happy, of course you do,” Jimin argued.

“I know, Jimin,” Taehyung smiled. “But more importantly — I want you to find happiness in yourself.”

Jimin swallowed.

“I do now,” he said. “Not every day, but it’s there.”

“It doesn’t have to be every day,” Taehyung said. “As long as you don’t give up on the hope that it’s going to come back. As long as you don’t actively deny yourself it. As long as you realize that leaning on others doesn’t make you weak. As long as you realize that just living, just being Jimin — that’s the greatest thing you can be.”

“I know,” Jimin said. And he was taken aback at how truthful he was being — Jimin did know this, now.

He knew this and he felt like he had been blindly following a hand grasped around his own the entire time, only for his vision to clear and realize that the hand leading him was his own.

Taehyung reached out and placed a warm hand on Jimin’s cheek.

“Try again?” he asked.

Jimin beamed then, relief exploding all over his skin like tiny supernovas.

“We’ll try again,” Jimin nodded.

Day 342.

When Taehyung moved back into the apartment, they didn’t let go of each other the entire night.

Taehyung cooked dinner with Jimin attached to his back, reaching around his torso to sneak bites of food, and Taehyung giggled as he felt Jimin’s jaw moving up and down against his spine.

Jimin did the dishes with Taehyung sitting at his feet, leaning a head against his thigh, scrolling through his phone, playing music and skipping to the next song before the current one was even halfway done.

They showered together, shedding their clothes and relearning each others’ bodies, Taehyung kissing the mole on the back of Jimin’s neck and Jimin running his hand over the faint scar Taehyung had on his knee from a fall when he was little. Taehyung picked up his mint shampoo that hadn’t moved since the last time he used it, rubbed the familiar scent into Jimin’s hair, then took Jimin’s body wash and let it soak into his own skin.

When they laid down for the night, their eyelashes tangled together, and they let every sad lonely night drip off them like rain, let the desperation and fear that had been clinging to their backs sink deep into the mattress, and they breathed twin sighs of relief into each others’ open mouths.

Jimin stayed awake as Taehyung slept, counting Taehyung’s breaths and holding him tight. The sun began to rise as Jimin’s eyelids fluttered, and he let a small whisper slip from his lips as he finally gave in to sleep, secure with the fact that Taehyung was back in his arms.

“Welcome home.”

Day 365.

Taehyung was exhausted.

Shooting had ran late, and he was tired in a way that made him feel heavy down to his bones.

When he made his way into his and Jimin’s apartment, he was so tired that at first he didn’t notice the candles on the table.

“Chim?” he called out, making his way over to the flames, and noticing a small piece of paper left on the place mat.

Tae,

This was the place where things fell apart.

Taehyung looked around at the empty apartment, noticed chips in the paint of the chairs from his and Jimin’s explosive fight, his replacement mug beaming at him from the cupboard, heard the echoes of words Jimin told him that night that wore him down so thin he could barely hold himself straight.

Go to the place where things came back together.

Urged on by the spirit of something magical, like a lover pulling his hand or a high romance nipping at his heels, Taehyung turned and ran out the door.

Ran the entire way and stopped at the park, found more candles, found himself laughing and running faster and faster and faster until he caught sight of Jimin’s grinning face.

He ran right into Jimin’s arms, the weariness of the day forgotten, shed like old skin, and Jimin picked him off his feet and twirled him, making him throw his head back and laugh.

“What’s this, Jimin? What is this?”

They were surrounded by faerie lights and candles, and the warmth of the flames made Jimin’s skin glow. Made him look like the embodiment of starlight and birthday candles and sparklers.

“Do you know what day it is, Tae?” Jimin’s smile turned a bit bitter, a bit sad.

Taehyung cocked his head to the side as Jimin placed him down on his feet.

“I made the worst decision of my life exactly one year ago,” Jimin whispered. “And I’m so, so sorry.”

Taehyung’s shoulders slumped now, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s okay, Jimin, I’ve told you I’ve forgiven you…”

“But I don’t think you noticed last year,” Jimin continued, voice wobbling. “Today’s also the day we first met.”

Taehyung blinked in shock.

Was it?

That day in the bathroom — had it been today, eight years ago?

Jimin squeezed his hands, then dropped down to one knee.

“Jimin,” Taehyung gasped out, shock flooding into his system like a cold wave.

His mind was going a mile a minute, and all he could do was stare in shock as Jimin pulled out a ring box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that was infinitely more spectacular than the one Taehyung had bought back in college.

“I love you, Taehyung,” Jimin said. “I loved you when I found you on that bathroom floor and I loved you when you held me in your dorm room twin sized bed and I loved you when we graduated and moved in together. I loved you when I broke up with you and I loved you past the pain of being apart and I loved you as you took me back even after I made a mistake. I love you when you’re cranky coming home from work and when you sing to me in the mornings, and I’ll love you until we’re old and sickly and even after we die, my soul will always find its way back to yours.”

Taehyung was openly crying now, and he crouched down in a strange little squat to come eye to eye with Jimin, hands brought up to his own face to muffle his sobs, palms getting wet with his own tears.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin smiled a beautiful, blinding smile. “Will you marry me?”

“Fuck yes,” Taehyung said, causing a laugh to burst from Jimin’s chest. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Jimin slipped the ring onto Taehyung’s hand and reached out to haul him into his lap, pressing their lips together.

“Wait,” Taehyung breathed into the kiss, desperate and hot and so, so in love. “Jimin.”

“Mmm.”

Taehyung reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box.

Jimin did a double take, eyes widening.

Taehyung laughed. “Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing compared to yours.”

“What? How long have you had this?” Jimin asked.

Taehyung leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Jimin’s.

“I got it in junior year,” Taehyung confessed.

“What?”

Taehyung smiled. “It’s you, Jimin. It’s just always been you.”

He opened the velvet box, a bit self conscious at how underwhelming it was compared to his own ring sparkling on his finger, but Jimin gasped as if Taehyung had showed him a fallen star.

“Taehyung,” Jimin breathed out. “All this time…?”

“It’s always been you,” Taehyung repeated, sliding the ring onto Jimin’s finger.

Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off the ring, awe in his eyes.

“I love you,” Jimin said. “I love you.”

Taehyung kissed him again, entertwining their fingers and shuffling closer.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Jimin whispered. “Even when I gave up on us.”

Taehyung shook his head. “That time apart was good to you, Jimin. You needed it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Jimin blinked up at him, eyes shining. “Really?”

“Really. Just don’t do it again,” Taehyung stuck his tongue out playfully, and Jimin laughed, coming closer, always closer.

And Taehyung relaxed, because finally, for the first time in a long time, Jimin looked genuinely happy. His cheeks were bunched up and his lips hadn’t fallen from their smile once, as if the corners of them were being pulled up by balloons blown up with helium happiness. Staring at the expression on Jimin’s face, Taehyung knew it was going to be alright. Whatever life threw at them, they would take it hand in hand. He was filled to the brim with excitement at the fact that Jimin was his and he was Jimin’s.

Sadness and happiness came and went, both of them fragile and fickle and temporary. In the ugliness of fading happy days there lived the beauty of overcoming bad days, as well. Feelings pass and then they revisit, and going through life was like hopping from stepping stone to stepping stone of good and bad moments.

But in that park, surrounded by the warmth of the candles, a new weight hugging his ring finger, permanence was all Taehyung could taste on Jimin’s lips.