Archive of Our Own

There are a lot of familiar things about Monday mornings.

The gentle ding of the toaster, the whir of the coffee machine, the smell of jasmine growing on their windowsill (an unconventional choice for a houseplant, but Taehyung’s always had a special fondness for it) awash in the first sprigs of sunlight. And Jimin, kissing him slow and delicate, giggling against his sleep-warm mouth.

“Coooome on, Taetae,” he always whispers, brushing Taehyung's hair away from  his forehead, kissing the tip of his nose, “It’s nearly eight. Gotta wake up, love.”

Jimin is a morning person; his petals unfurling in its luster, his very being refracting it’s light and siphoning it into the darkest corners of Taehyung’s soul. Taehyung, who is too often scared to step into the light, who feels more at home blending into shadows and slinking in corners, is regularly invigorated by Jimin’s touch, like being brought back to life.

“Don’t wanna wake up,” he always whines in response. “Wanna stay here with you.”

The soft trill of Jimin’s laughter echoes through their shabby one-bedroom apartment. He cards another finger through Taehyung’s hair, places another kiss to the edge of Taehyung’s mouth, but never quite listens to Taehyung’s gentle imploring. He never quite lets Taehyung sleep in, never quite curls back into bed with him; he is a morning person, after all.

Instead, he heaves a sleepy Taehyung up, tugs him along to the bathroom, wraps a steady hand around his waist to hold him close as they brush their teeth in unison.

Some Monday mornings are overwhelmingly nice. Taehyung readily gives in to Jimin’s machinations, follows up Jimin’s kisses with his own, much more heated ones. Sometimes, once their teeth are brushed, he pulls Jimin into the shower with him, kisses him some more, worships his body in every way he knows how to. Later, when the toaster dings and the coffee is freshly made and the smell of jasmine is so overpowering it hangs over their breakfast table like a persistent halo, he looks up at the man beside him - his soulmate, his Jimin - and feels his heart swell a billion sizes from the sheer force of love.

But some Monday mornings (like today) aren’t as rosy. The air is still, caustic. Taehyung wakes up feeling too big, too ungainly, too unworthy of the giggles and kisses aimed his way.

In the bathroom, brushing their teeth, he looks in the mirror and sees only the bulge of his belly, the chub in his cheeks, the flab in his arms. Jimin’s lithe, toned frame is a stark contrast - he has a dancer’s body, all smooth and graceful and curvy and taut in the right places - and Taehyung can’t. Can’t keep staring at their reflection, even though Jimin’s wrapped all around him, is looking at him with unhindered adoration.

On mornings like this, he can’t see what Jimin sees in him.

When Jimin tries to coax him into the shower, Taehyung declines, says he needs his coffee first.

At the breakfast table, he’s quiet, carefully poring over the newspaper.

Jimin stares at him like he knows something is wrong, but Taehyung studiously avoids his gaze, reading the same headline again and again until his head spins a little. Jimin begins to form a sentence, but stops, like he doesn’t quite know how to phrase it - he never really knows how to.

Taehyung doesn’t know how to talk about it either.

I feel hideous. Like a dead weight, pulling you down.

You are so beautiful, Jimin. I can’t look at you.

Instead, Jimin takes another bite of his toast, tries to broach a different subject.

“I’ve asked Hobi hyung to save you a seat right in the front row.” he says. “You’re still coming, right?”

This, by all means, is an easier subject.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Jimin’s answering smile is breathtaking, surprised and pleased in equal measure. Quietly indulgent. Taehyung can’t help but smile back, even if that smile is weak and wobbly.

“I hope you like it, Tae.”

It’s Jimin’s big showcase tonight - the thing he’s worked tirelessly towards for the past two months, has routinely come home late and exhausted to the bone but glowing with an energy Taehyung's hardly seen before. It's evident how much this means to Jimin, how important it is for him to be at his very best tonight. Jimin has struggled so much to get here, battling financial insolvency to get himself through dance school, working a thankless part-time job even now, just to be able to dance and still keep himself afloat. Jimin is so strong and courageous and talented, and tonight is his night.

The very last thing Taehyung wants to do is to ruin this, to fail to offer his complete and unflinching support to this wonderful man. He feels guilty that it's today his thoughts chose to be so loud, his body chose to appear so hideous, the mirrors chose to be so daunting.

But no, he can't give in. Not today, when Jimin is meant to be the centre of attention, when Jimin deserves all the encouragement and love Taehyung can give him.

“Impossible.” He looks up from his paper, smiles wider at his boyfriend, hopes he's doing a good enough job masking his morning dysmorphia. “Impossible for me to not like it, Jiminie. Impossible for you to be anything short of absolutely brilliant.”

Jimin blushes shyly at the compliment (it's sweet how Taehyung's ample praise still has such a distinct effect on him, even after they’ve been dating for nearly a year). He fidgets with a lock of his hair, tucks it behind his ear, “You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.” Taehyung says with conviction, the knot in his stomach lightening by an inch, the weight in his shoulders dissipating by a margin. Watching Jimin like this - basking in the sheen of Taehyung's affection, blooming like musk-rose - often has that effect. It’s infinitely enchanting.

Jimin blushes some more and bats at Taehyung’s arm playfully, “You flatter me too much.”

“It’s not flattery when it’s fact. ” Taehyung says, capturing the hand Jimin had put on his arm, kisses it tenderly, “I have the most talented boyfriend in the world, it’s been scientifically proven.”

Jimin laughs, high and delirious and happy - the sound warming the very depths of Taehyung's heart - and presses his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Too much, you flatter me too much.”

Taehyung inhales Jimin’s heady scent, lets the gentle weight of his body envelope him, lull his thoughts into silence. There’s the dysmorphia still at the back of his head, raring to bare its claws, chew out his heart. But there’s also this: the familiar thing about Monday mornings, the familiar love that shudders across his being.

“Just enough,” he replies, leaning down to drop a kiss on the top of Jimin’s head, “I flatter you just enough.”

---

The café feels oddly empty without Jimin, though technically, it’s as packed as it usually is on a Monday afternoon. He’s at his regular table - the one right beside the stained glass windows overlooking the quaint Myeongdong neighbourhood - trying to focus on his coding. But the series of digits and alphabets are warping into each other, morphing into near-unrecognisable shapes. This is his daily routine; come to the café, write code until his head hurts, deal with persistent emails from clients, consume copious amounts of coffee and bingsu in the process -

(Usually, it’s kind of wonderful.  Usually, Jimin is a steady presence behind the counter, frantically putting together orders, charming the customers, each activity punctuated with the loving looks or equally loving banter he directs at Taehyung. Usually, Jimin comes over to his table during his lunch break to trade bites from his kimbap and they talk and talk until Jimin’s supervisor pointedly clears his throat and urges Jimin back to his workstation. Usually, when Taehyung’s tasks for the day are complete and Jimin’s shift wraps up, they walk together - sometimes going straight home, sometimes him dropping Jimin off to dance rehearsal, sometimes, just ambling about; exploring the Myeongdong night market, holding hands and stealing kisses and gorging on tteokbokki from street food stalls. It’s yet another routine.)

-but today, his brain is haywire, his body taut with barely contained tension. He is too distracted to focus on work, a little cross-eyed from the steady onslaught of white binary lettering that blinks on his computer screen. Maybe it’s the lack of Jimin, who took the day off from his job at the café to rehearse for the night’s performance, maybe it is the morning’s invasive thoughts taking root in his system all over again; but he feels inexplicably strange. Unwieldy. Unprepared.

With a resigned sigh, he closes the lid of his laptop, decides to shelve work for later. He takes a desolate sip of his coffee (sans Jimin’s increasingly sappy latte art), hoping it’ll help him refocus. It doesn’t.

“Wow, you look like shit,” comes a familiar scratchy voice. The chair opposite him is pulled, and Min Yoongi makes himself home, never one for mincing words.

“Just tired,” Taehyung sighs into his mug, not really meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He’s not really in the mood for a conversation, especially not about this. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

(Usually, Yoongi is at the café too - though not every day. Sometimes, he comes in with Hoseok and they join him at his table for coffee and conversation. Sometimes, Yoongi brings along work too, quietly sits opposite him poring over notes and typing into his computer. He writes for a magazine, about politics and the economy and other mind-boggling things that are way beyond Taehyung’s intellectual grasp. Usually, Yoongi is good company. But today-)

“Work’s being rough?”

Taehyung tries to seem as neutral as possible when he shrugs. “Just these extra bug fixes for a new client. He’s a bit demanding, always asking me for lots of revisions.”

“Right.” Yoongi looks at him in that all-knowing, i-can-see-through-your-bullshit kind of way that makes him feel infinitely vulnerable.

"I could give you someone's number," Yoongi continues, voice measured (like it often is). "We were college roommates, he's good at what he does."

Not this again.

“I’ve told you before,” Taehyung balks. "I don't need a therapist, hyung."

He’s a coward and a freak and the rational part of his brain knows that Yoongi’s just trying to help, Yoongi’s right, Yoongi can tell what’s going on even if talking about it makes Taehyung’s throat seize up, makes his head pound until it threatens to explode. But he can’t do this, he’s not brave enough. He’s never been brave enough.

Yoongi's face is mercifully blank, though it’s evident there's a lot he's refraining from saying out loud.

Maybe Taehyung’s hyperventilating without reason, blowing this out of proportion. Maybe his brain is being loud again and Jimin isn’t here to ground him and he feels-

He can’t do this, not now.

He looks down at his hands, they are too large, ugly, intimidating. His feet are so heavy he can’t make himself feel their presence and - then there’s Jimin at the other end of all of this. Perfect, beautiful, talented Jimin and his big dance showcase where Taehyung needs to be a hundred percent present, a hundred percent invested -

"Namjoon is good at what he does," Yoongi repeats, tone still blank but laced with concern. "Give this a chance."

"I think I'll go home,” Taehyung abruptly gets up, stuffs his laptop back into its case. It’s rude, leaving the conversation midway like this, refusing to reply to Yoongi’s gentle urging, refusing to even consider the possibility. But Taehyung has never claimed to be perfect. He’s not Jimin.

“You were right, I look like shit. I should get some sleep before Jimin’s show tonight.”

"Taehyung," This time Yoongi’s concern is more palpable. So is his hurt.  Another stab of guilt seizes Taehyung’s chest, but right now he can’t do anything about it. Right now the café seems too big and horrifying and his body seems even bigger and more horrifying and Jimin isn’t here and Yoongi is asking Taehyung to see his therapist friend and-

-he has to remember to breathe.

One.

Two.

Exhale.

He needs to get out of here.

“I’ll see you at the showcase, hyung.” Taehyung’s voice shakes only a little. He doesn’t know how he manages it.

Yoongi sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He knows this is a losing battle. "Yeah. See you."

---

(It wasn’t always like this.

Or maybe it was. Maybe he's always been a freak.

“You’re beautiful, Taehyungie,” Jimin tells him inbetween kisses, caresses, soft words - in the mornings, the lazy afternoons, the passionate midnights. Taehyung feels like a worm stuck in sand, sluggish, uncertain, wiggling around to find any kind of footing.

I’m not, I’m not, I’m not, his brain constantly supplies.

You're seeing the wrong person.

He tries to smile back, buries his face in Jimin's neck when it doesn't reach his eyes. He's too afraid of giving himself away, but it's too late by then. Jimin's seen it; the hesitation on Taehyung’s mouth, the intrinsic shame in his posture.

Jimin's eyes have lost its warmth.

He places desperate kisses against Jimin's neck to make amends; travels all the way up to the underside of his chin, his nose, his bottom lip. I'm sorry, the tip of Jimin's nose. I'm sorry I'm letting you down, the curve of his cheek, the wedge of bone below his eye. Please don't leave me. Please don’t hate me.

Taehyung has always been a freak.)

----

He takes a shower when he gets home - carefully avoiding looking in the bathroom mirror all throughout - and then decides to take a nap.

Jimin's show begins at 7 and he’s supposed to meet Yoongi at the auditorium at 6.30, so he still has some time on his hands. Trying to get any work done would be futile, considering how little brainspace he has at the moment for anything remotely productive.

The bed seems cold and uncomfortable without Jimin’s warm gorgeous weight spooning him, stroking his hair until they fall asleep, anchoring him away from his demons. Taehyung continues to feel strange and fidgety, like his skin is too tightly stretched over his body.

He tosses and turns, unable to settle down; gives up after a while and tries to distract himself by scrolling through his phone. There are a series of texts from Jimin, a small but significant respite.

[From: jiminie ♡ , 12.00] practice is STRESSFUL today wtf

[From: jiminie ♡ , 12.01] hobi hyung is flipping his shit which is making me MORE NERVOUS pls tell me i'm gonna be okay taehyungie :(

Taehyung can clearly imagine what Jimin must have looked like while typing that out, pouty and indignant and irresistibly cute. The mental image makes him smile momentarily.

[From: jiminie ♡ , 12.45] i miss you!!! wish i was at the café today :( don’t have too much fun without me!

Oh, if only you knew, Jiminie.

He checks the time. Jimin must be away from his phone now, back to rehearsing, his little lunch break long over. Taehyung types out his reply anyway.

[To: jiminie ♡ , 3.00] hey, breathe, okay? you’re gonna be great, Jimin-ah. I believe in you :)

[To: jiminie ♡ , 3.02] Don’t worry about the café .

He teeters on the edge of something, pauses as he types the last one out.

[To: jiminie ♡ , 3.07] I was miserable without you today.

It’s a bit too honest, more honest than he’s comfortable with. But it’s easy to hit send now, when he’s alone in their big drafty apartment, now, when he isn’t expecting an immediate response.

Miserable.

He slips a hand under his shirt, feels the folds of skin crowding his fingers like unfiltered sludge. He hasn’t weighed himself in two weeks (he’s scared, so scared).

Leading up to the showcase, Jimin has been doing stretches and squats in the living room at odd hours of the night - usually when he thinks Taehyung has already gone to sleep. Last weekend, Taehyung brought home American Pizza from the new joint that’s opened up across the street, and Jimin carefully separated the cheesy bits from his portions, smiled and said, “I’m just not hungry, babe.”

Both of them knew what he was doing.

Jimin steps on eggshells around him, is apprehensive when it comes to articulating things like that. Is hesitant to say out loud, “I’m working out every day but I’m afraid if I bring it up, it will make you feel more self-conscious about your body than you already are.”

Sometimes, Taehyung is glad Jimin doesn’t bring it up.

When they are out clubbing, and fit, disorientingly muscly men hit on Jimin despite his arms being firmly wrapped around Taehyung, despite him making it clear he’s with Taehyung. When Taehyung’s clearing out his cupboard and pulls out clothes from three years ago that no longer fit him, that are tighter everywhere; near the stomach, the thighs, the shoulders. When he takes his shirt off and stares at his bare, unattractive skin for longer than is necessary, obsessing over every single corner and crevice that is wrong and disgusting and flawed. Taehyung is glad Jimin doesn’t bring it up.

But sometimes, he wishes Jimin weren’t so quiet.

He wishes Jimin would just acknowledge the elephant in the room. Would just come out and say it. “We come from different worlds Taehyung. You’re overweight and insecure, and I’m charming and conventionally attractive. Maybe we don’t belong.”

It would definitely be easier, if Jimin were that blunt. If Jimin woke up one morning and ripped the band-aid off once and for all, laughed at Taehyung and admitted this has all been an elaborate prank, some kind of twisted social experiment-

But no.

Instead, Jimin comes home every night and kisses Taehyung with a devotion that undoes him. Instead, Jimin calls him sweet names and touches him like he’s something precious and tells him he’s beautiful and that he loves him and-

His phone vibrates.

[From: jiminie ♡ , 3.47] aww, my sweet taetae!! i’m miserable without you too :( wish you were here to kiss my nerves away

Taehyung stares at the message for an inordinate amount of time, until the screen goes dark. The knot in his stomach that he can’t explain (or maybe he can but he doesn’t want to) tightens again.

Oh, Jiminie. What did I do to deserve you?

He sighs and sinks back into the pillows, finally drifting into sleep.

---

“Kim Taehyung-sshi, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“I-” Taehyung is bit blindsided.

This person - tall and muscular, broad but dainty (ripped, like every other member of Jimin’s dance company) - is an enigma, though not quite. Jeon Jungkook has so far been a vague presence in Jimin’s stories; a shapeless, formless entity who’s seemed too faraway, too much of an anecdote for Taehyung to know what to make of him.

New to the dance studio, young, ridiculously talented, Taehyung mentally checks off the list of attributes he remembers Jimin mentioning.

But what he hasn't mentioned, what Taehyung is wholly unprepared for, is this. Jeon Jungkook looks like he just walked out of a magazine cover, unfairly attractive, flawless without even trying.

His shirt is half-buttoned, his makeup half-done. He leans lazily against the doorway of the busy dressing room, a lopsided smile crowding his face.

“I-uh,” Taehyung stutters again, shifts uncomfortably on his feet. His palms are clammy as they tightly grip the bouquet he's carefully picked out. “I’m just here for Jimin.”

“Of course,” Jungkook replies, his smile growing a touch warmer as he eyes the flowers in Taehyung’s hands. He vaguely resembles a bunny, Taehyung thinks. “Hyung’ll be out in a second, he’s probably still changing.”

“Okay.” Taehyung doesn't know what else to say, feels a weight crawl up his throat that is, as always, irrational. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Jungkook is nice, he’s being nice. Why the heck can’t Taehyung look him directly in the eye.

“Jimin hyung tells me you make websites? That’s so cool, hyung.”

Jungkook seems genuinely interested. There’s an eager sheen to his eyes, a mix of innocence and curiosity.

Taehyung blinks back, continuing to be at odds, still not knowing what to make of this person.

Maybe he’s silent for a minute too long.

“Sorry-I hope I can call you hyung,” Jungkook quickly backtracks, his face falling. He absently scratches the back of his head, looking bashful.

Taehyung hates it, hates himself (at least that’s not new) for being so stupidly uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he somehow manages, “You can call me hyung.”

“And yeah,” he continues, “I code, build websites for people on a contractual basis. Do a little bit of graphic designing too.”

Jungkook seems to be satisfied with Taehyung’s stilted response because his eyes go bright again, his lopsided smile sliding back in place. “ Wow,” he says, “I dabble a little with graphic design myself, but nothing close to being good enough to do it professionally. You’re like….wow! Will you show me, hyung?”

Taehyung is, yet again, unable to handle this conversation. Unable to look at beautiful, kind Jeon Jungkook who seems to somehow think Taehyung is cool.

Thankfully, he is rescued when a familiar happy yelp echoes his name from across the room. Soon enough, a tiny, firm shape barrels straight into his chest. Taehyung wraps his arms securely around his boyfriend, holds on like his entire life depends on it. Ironic, how he’d initially come backstage to calm Jimin’s nerves but it’s Jimin - the steady, sure feel of him; the thick floral scent of him - is what calms Taehyung. Helps him breathe a little easy.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Jimin murmurs against his neck, then pulls his head up to kiss Taehyung soundly. Taehyung kisses back with everything he’s got, like they haven’t seen each other in ages (though it was just this morning, barely a few hours ago). “Are those for me?” Jimin is smiling wide and incandescent as they break away from the kiss, panting a little. He plucks the flowers from Taehyung’s hands and hugs them close, inhales deeply like he’s smelling every last bloom in the bouquet. “You’re really the sweetest, my Taehyungie.”

Taehyung finally smiles back, again rendered momentarily weightless by the force of Jimin’s affection, again invigorated by Jimin’s mere presence.

“Nah, I just wanted to wish you luck.” He doesn’t want to let go of Jimin quite yet so he still keeps an arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist, holds him close for as long as he is allowed to. “You like them?”

Jimin giggles, kisses Taehyung’s nose. “I love them.”

“Hobi-hyung was right,” Jungkook says, “You two are kind of disgusting.”

“Shut up Jeon Jungkook and let me kiss my boyfriend,” Jimin says without looking away from Taehyung. “Don’t mind him, he’s a little annoying.”

Taehyung laughs (it’s easier when Jimin is in his arms, it’s easier when Jimin is looking at him like that), “I think Jungkook-sshi is nice, actually.”

Jungkook gasps audibly, like Taehyung has just bestowed the highest praise upon him. “Hyung thinks I’m nice! ” Jungkook singsongs, “Did you hear that, Jiminie hyung? Kim Taehyung thinks I’m nice!!!” He pumps a fist through the air in triumph and and then skips away, as if just that one word was good enough.

“He’s a bit strange, that one,” Jimin remarks, “But I’m glad you two got along.”

Jimin leans closer, whispers conspiratorially, “I lied earlier. I think he’s nice too.”

Something shifts, inside Taehyung. Something settles in his gut that he wants to shake off, but can’t, it’s like a claw that refuses to let go. A steady burr in his side.

Guilt.

Jeon Jungkook is kind and adorable and for some unfathomable reason, finds Taehyung cool. Jeon Jungkook is so beautiful Taehyung couldn’t look at him without feeling inadequate, without wondering whether Jimin should be with someone like him instead. Couldn’t even wrap his head around the fact that the same Jungkook actually appreciates him, ugly old good-for-nothing Kim Taehyung who can’t even stare at his reflection in the mirror.

Taehyung hates it. Hates these thoughts, hates himself for thinking them.

But that’s not new.

----

(“The café is just my day job, you know. I’m actually a dancer.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you look like that.”

Jimin furrows his brows, “look like what?”

“You know, like…” Taehyung waves a hand in Jimin’s general direction, highlighting his frame from head to toe.

Jimin stares at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. He doesn’t understand.

Of course he doesn’t, Jimin is beautiful. He’s probably never thought about the things Taehyung thinks on a daily basis.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment.”

I don’t know either.

But Jimin is looking at him and Taehyung cannot expose himself, not like this. It’s only their first official date. Jimin was the one who asked him out, and he still cannot believe his luck. He can’t screw this up, not because of his stupid insecurities, not when the best person in the entire galaxy is sitting right across from him and he has a chance. He has a chance to find happiness, though he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve it.

He reaches across the table to hold Jimin’s hand, tries to muster up as genuine a smile as possible. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“I meant to say, you’re gorgeous, Jimin. You look like you work hard, like you’re talented and sincere. I want to know more about you.”

For a moment that seems excruciatingly long, Jimin simply gapes at Taehyung. He feels like he’s under the microscope, being scanned from head to toe, being caught in a fraudulent act. Any time now, he thinks. Any time now, Jimin will call him out on the ruse. He will say , this was nice, but I’ve got to be somewhere else. I’ll call you later? But will never call. That’s how Taehyung’s dates always end.

Of course, Jimin is different. Jimin is kind. He will let Taehyung down easy.

But Park Jimin surprises him. Instead of bolting, like any sane person would, a slow, devastating smile takes over Jimin’s face, turning his eyes into the most fascinating crescent moons. He squeezes Taehyung’s hand, holds it tighter.

“I want to know more about you too, Kim Taehyung.”)

---

He reaches his seat almost a little too late.

Yoongi is there already, looking sharp in his dark grey button down, staring intently at the stage - probably searching for Hoseok. The show’s about to start, the dancers are already in position.

“How’s Jimin doing?” Yoongi asks without batting a single eyelid, without looking away from the stage.

“Bit nervous, but good. Better.”

Taehyung doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s relieved Yoongi isn’t looking straight at him. He can’t deal with that level of scrutiny and concern, with the aftermath of the afternoon’s conversation. That’s the good thing about Yoongi, he knows when to give Taehyung space, knows when Taehyung doesn’t want to talk.

“And you?”

The problem, however, is that sometimes he knows Taehyung too well. Sometimes, he wants Taehyung to talk even when Taehyung doesn’t want to.

“What about me?” He tries to sound as nonchalant as possible

Yoongi seems on the verge of saying something in return, of another carefully-worded remark, but fortunately, that’s when the music begins.

It’s a bit electric.

There's Hoseok, moving with meticulous precision, intense look in his eyes - Taehyung can hear Yoongi catch his breath beside him.

There's Jungkook, looking almost feral in the way he jumps and shimmies, his innocence and glee and quiet awe of just a few minutes ago evaporating into the haunting back and forth of rhythm and harmony and motion.

The choreography is synthetic, so smooth that it seemingly floats in mid-air, that it swells and ebbs like the torrid sea. It's a slick contemporary piece, with soft dream-like music and soaring, fluid movements.  Hoseok has outdone himself.

But it’s Jimin, always Jimin, who doesn't leave Taehyung's line of vision for a single second. He is there, right in the front, moving with such fluidity and ease it takes Taehyung's breath away. His unbuttoned blue silk shirt and white leotard and striking mane of blonde hair stands out, even though he's not always in the centre.

Jimin's dancing has always been magnificent to him - he's seen it again and again and again and again, and has been mesmerised by it, again and again. But now, he looks-

There's nothing in him that looks out of place.

There's nothing in him that isn't perfect, majestic, out of reach.

Jimin is like a mountain, impenetrable, unfettered, daunting.

Taehyung feels-

(The weighing scale hidden away in the lower rack of their bathroom cabinet, the rack Jimin never opens.)

(Jimin, pulling weights at 4am, thinking Taehyung is asleep but he’s not. Taehyung can hear Jimin heaving and shifting around in the living room, the sound of his feet and breaths unmistakable, unavoidable.)

(The last time Taehyung went to the gym - three months ago - he had a minor breakdown in the locker room.)

Taehyung is-

Every part of Jimin looks like it has been sculpted out of stone, with care and effort. He's flinging himself into the air, his arms taut with glee and carefully held balance and emotion. He's searching for Taehyung in the crowd, Taehyung can tell.

The music is rising, rising, rising-

The dancers' bodies seem to merge into one, it’s a formation, just a formation, but Jimin's bare chest is suddenly pushed up against Jungkook's and they're an unit.

They're all an unit.

Taehyung is paralysed, glued to his seat, breathing heavy, forgetting how to breathe.

"Earth to Tae-ah?"

He didn't notice when the house lights came on, didn't notice when the music stopped and the dancers lined up to take a bow. Didn't notice Jimin, looking flushed and sweaty and giddy, so giddy.

Like he belongs.

"I-uh-I need some air."

Yoongi looks at him like that again, like he's concerned and disappointed and like he wants to say everything and nothing at the same time, but mercifully declines to comment.

"The back door is open," is what he says instead, "Be safe, Taehyung-ah."

"Don't worry about me, hyung. I'm okay."

Once again, they both know he's lying.

---

“It was so great, wasn’t it? We were so great.” Jungkook is buzzing with excitement, is being loud and frantic and just as attractive as he was on stage.

“We were! We were so great,” Jimin giggles, knocking shoulders with him.

They’ve been playfully nudging each for the past few minutes, still high on the adrenaline of performing on stage, caught up in the afterglow of the show’s rousing success. Taehyung hangs back from the rest of the group, eyes carefully turned to the ground, feeling like he will suffocate any minute. The world closing in on him.

No one really notices him, not even Jimin - who’s thrumming with too much unbridled energy to focus on anything in particular. He’s in constant motion, fidgeting, hopping and skipping on the sidewalk, gleefully jostling with Jungkook and Hoseok.

He gets like this sometimes after a performance - like there’s still dance left in his body, so much that he cannot contain it, so much that he needs a constant physical outlet. If this were a regular day - a regular, non-dysmorphic, non-devastating day - Taehyung would put Jimin’s extra stamina to better use. He would flirt a little, be a little brazen. Would take Jimin home and kiss him until his breath stopped, would stretch him out in bed and worship every single inch of his exquisite, sweat-drenched skin. Jimin would be both pliant and responsive in his arms, always so eager, always so ready to be ravished.

But this isn’t a regular day. Right now, Taehyung has to focus on making sure he’s still breathing fine. Right now, Taehyung’s head feels like it’s going to explode.

Yoongi gives him a few worried looks, but he avoids them.

They're walking towards a noraebang - Hoseok has offered to buy celebratory drinks - and the cacophony of Seoul's sights and sounds are a blur in the background. The streetlights flicker, illuminating the figures of the four people in front of him. Taehyung feels like he’s both within and without, sticking out like a sore thumb. An unwanted addition, an anomaly.

They're being silly and goofy and excited and high on their success. They're all ecstatic. Tangible, real. And what is Taehyung? What is his purpose here?

Jungkook and Jimin are curled into each other like it is so natural. Jungkook has just said something particularly hilarious which makes Jimin double over with laughter, red with resultant mirth. Hoseok is laughing too, falling into a Yoongi who is holding him lightly, fondly.

Taehyung has lost track of the conversation, all he knows is-

"Jungkookie," Jimin is saying, like his name is something special, "You are the worst."

"I live to torment you, hyung," Jungkook laughs in return, tickles Jimin's side. They're close, so close. So right.

And Taehyung.....is nothing. He’s never been anything. Just a freak, just a worm stuck in the sand.

They’re standing near the noraebang now, huddled at its entrance. Yoongi and Hoseok grabbing one last cigarette, shotgunning like an old married couple. The blinking signboard above reads in hangul, “Choi’s.” The lights illuminating the letters alternate between orange and green.

He thinks this moment will remain frozen in time: Taehyung, a shell of a being among four of the brightest stars in the galaxy. A hovering ghost, with no identity.

“Actually, I'm not really feeling too well," his voice sounds alien to his own ears, completely torn up. "You guys go ahead, I think I'll turn in early."

Jimin abruptly freezes mid-laughter, snapping to attention. His body language alters in an instant, no longer embodying giddy amusement, leftover stamina, unfiltered energy. Suddenly, he is concentrating all too hard on Taehyung, post-performance rush forgotten. He concentrates on Taehyung with eyes full of confusion and concern, gentle but worried.

Taehyung gulps, hating that he put that look on Jimin’s face, hating that he interrupted this moment of pure, serene happiness. Hating himself. Always, always, hating himself.

"Is everything okay, baby?" Jimin frowns, "I'll take you home."

"No!" The protest comes out harsher than he intends to. Jimin visibly winces, takes a step back.

The guilt settles in Taehyung's stomach like vicious, toxic bile. "I mean," he tries again, mellower, "I don't want to ruin your night, Jiminie. You go have drinks, I'll see you back at home, okay?"

Everyone has gone strangely still. Jungkook's bunny eyes are wide and frantic, staring between Jimin and Taehyung like watching a tennis match. Hoseok looks uncertain too, clearing his throat as if he wants to say something but doesn't know how to broach it.

But Yoongi just looks pissed.

"Taehyung-ah," he says, voice clipped. "You can stay for one drink, can't you."

Jimin is still staring at him, scared and imploring. Hoseok and Jungkook exchange looks of trepidation. Yoongi's teeth are gritted, like he'll lose it any minute.

Taehyung knows he should stay. He should stay, because this is Jimin’s big night. He should stay because Jimin loves him, and he loves Jimin back. He should stay because the rational part of his conscience knows that every single panic attack he’s had since morning, every single insecure thought that has crossed his brain, is steadfastly untrue.

But Taehyung is a coward and a freak.

"I'm sorry, I just-" He forces himself to look at Jimin, forces himself to not cry. "I have to go."

And he bolts.

---

(Taehyung doesn't remember the first time he felt ugly. The first time he began avoiding his own gaze in the mirror. The first time he touched the folds of his stomach, saw the stretch marks in his thighs, and physically recoiled.

It's a seed that was planted long ago, its existence dating back before time. It learned to sprout, to spread its roots downwards and downwards until it clung to his bones like poison. It grew, grew, grew until it made its presence felt, until he couldn't clip away at the overgrowth. Until one afternoon, a kid shoved him on the school playground, stole his lunch money. Until one night after the drunken stupor of a college party, of a nameless body in his bed that he brought home in a reckless fit of loneliness, saying, "You're cute, for a fat dude."

Until, his fifth order of fried chicken in the same week and the delivery guy-

"You sure you wanted yours with extra gochujang?"

"Yeah."

A funny look aimed at Taehyung’s belly, sticking out from under his tank top. "Cool, man."

Until, yet another Tinder date says, "You look different from your picture."

“Different, how?”

“You know, like. More bulky? Oh but it’s cool, I don’t mind sleeping with bigger dudes.”

Until.

Jimin smiling at him from across the counter of the café, his eyes the most magnificent half-moons. Jimin, leaning closer than necessary to take his order. "You should try our special," he is saying, voice breathtakingly sweet, "Matcha and honey. A classic, but never gets old."

"I-" Taehyung doesn't know what he's done to deserve Jimin's steadfast attention, doesn't know why Jimin is staring up at him with so much reverence.

"It's on the house, just for you." Another gorgeous smile.

The roots are still there, expanding, shredding through the walls of his heart. The overgrowth is there, that he still can't control.

But here is a boy who he just met and here is the same boy giving him a caffeinated drink for free.

"Thank you," he says.

He means it in more ways than one.)

---

He doesn't know how he makes it back to the apartment without actively breaking down, but through some miracle, he does.

He's in front of the bathroom mirror, desperately trying to get his breathing under control, desperately avoiding looking at the extra layer of fat that bulges out of his chest, his stomach, his thighs; desperately trying to hold back his tears.

The weighing scale no longer in the bottom rack hidden away from Jimin, no longer out of sight, out of mind. It's spread out right in front of him.

All he needs to do is make himself get up on it and get an actual, physical reminder of just how hideous he is. He's about to-

Namjoon is good at what he does. Give him a chance.

Yoongi’s voice haunts him.

He'd saved the number into his contacts, despite himself. Despite all his protests in front of Yoongi, he'd taken the number and he’d saved it.

He could dial it now. Book an appointment. He could meet this Namjoon at some indefinite point in the future and tell him, tell him everything. Tell him about his disgusting thoughts, tell him about Jimin, who means everything to him, who he never should have involved in this mess in the first place. Tell him about what a terrible boyfriend he is. Tell him-

Tell him he wants to stop feeling like this.

Tell him he wants to be better, but he doesn’t know how.

Tell him, I need help.

Or-

Or he could get on the weighing scale, look at the number blinking on the tiny digital screen, reminding him of every single thing he's not. Or he could cry, cry, cry, get it out of his system before Jimin arrives and sees him like this; pathetic, desolate.

But it seems there isn’t enough time for that.

There's a resonant click as the front door opens, and a loud thud as it shuts again.

"Tae? Baby?" Jimin's voice is uncertain but also winded, like he's been running. God, did he run back to the apartment? Did he worry about Taehyung that much? The guilt continues to roil in his stomach.

"Baby, are you okay?"

He hears the footsteps travelling from the living room to the bedroom, to near where the attached bathroom is. Soon enough, there's a knock on the door.

"Taetae? Are you in there?"

Taehyung sucks in a lungful of air, finally giving in to the tears, finally turning into a sobbing mess.

"Baby." Jimin sounds stricken, so entirely helpless that it makes Taehyung cry harder. "Baby please open the door."

His hands shake but he manages it. Jimin looks at him like he's seen a ghost, like he absolutely does not know what to do now that Taehyung is curled up on the bathroom floor, crying, hunched over the weighing scale where the digital letters blink in angry red.

Jimin crouches down in front of Taehyung, tentatively wraps an arm around his shoulder, "What is it, love? Please tell me. Please talk to me."

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"But why? Why are you saying sorry? I don't understand."

"Because I'm the kind of person who couldn't watch my boyfriend's hard-won performance without constantly thinking about how fat and ugly and terrible I am. I'm the kind of person who couldn't even stay for drinks without having a panic attack over how unhappy I make you. I’m just. I'm so sorry, Jiminie.”

Jimin gasps, and his hand tightens on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung can feel him shaking, but he can’t bear to look up at Jimin’s face. Can’t bear to witness the fact that he’s making Jimin cry too. “I wish I could be like Jungkook, I’m sorry-”

"Jungkook?” Jimin’s voice is trembling, it is barely a whisper. “Why h-him?"

"I'm sorry, Jiminie,” Taehyung repeats, unable to come up with anything better to say. He shuts his eyes, lets the tears roll down and form a puddle on his lap, drenching his ratty sweatpants. Jimin’s arm continues to hold him steady, but Taehyung still can’t look him in the eye.

“I saw you two together and he’s good for you, Jiminie. He makes you laugh and-"

Jimin sucks in a breath, “And you’re not good for me, is that what you’re saying?” This time his voice is less of a whisper, less shaky. This time, Jimin sounds….daunting. Serious. On the precipice of anger and frustration.

Taehyung cries harder. He can't help it. He’s messing this up badly. He's hurting Jimin so much and he doesn't know how to stop.

“Answer me, Tae,” Jimin places a finger under his chin, gently pulls it up so Taehyung is forced to make eye contact. “Is that what you think? You’re not good for me because, what? You weigh a few kilos more than me? A few kilos more than Jeon fucking Jungkook - who, by the way, I am not in love with. Because who I’m in love with is you, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung can’t help it. He just cries, cries, cries. He feels like he has nothing left in him, no energy to form words, no capacity to experience any other emotion. He holds on to Jimin and he just cries.

"Talk to me, Taetae," Jimin's voice breaks, the tears rolling down his cheek again, "Talk to me about this, help me understand. We've skirted past this subject for way too long."

Jimin still seems on the edge of frustration, but his touch is tender, his arms hold Taehyung like holding on to something precious. His other hand strokes Taehyung's hair, wipes a tear from his cheek.

"Jimin," it comes out hoarse, destroyed. Jimin makes a shuddery noise at the back of his throat. "I-I didn't want you to...You didn't sign up for this....Fuck, I'm so sorry-"

"No, stop. Please stop saying sorry." Jimin leans down to kiss his forehead. His lips stay there for a while, breath ghosting over his forehead. Taehyung has to shut his eyes again. "I just want to understand."

He sighs, deep and weary.

Jimin has this right, he deserves this right. He's the only person in the entire world who's been there for Taehyung, who's loved him without strings attached, without expectations of anything in return. He's the only one who saw him, and not his insecurities. Him, and not his body. He owes Jimin this much. Jimin deserves to understand, even if it means losing him forever.

"It's more than that," Taehyung begins, voice quiet. "It's more than just weighing a few kilos more than you and Jungkook."

He has to swallow hard, but he finds it in himself to continue. "It's about how I feel about myself and my body, day in and day out. Some days - like today - I feel like I'm bringing you down by my mere presence. It's hard for me to even believe someone as magnificent as you can love me. It's hard for me to believe I'm worthy of being loved not just by you but by anyone."

"Oh, Taetae-"

"And I know, okay. I know that this is an unhealthy and irrational thought process. That in reality I'm only a few kilos overweight. But I...as much I have tried to change this about myself, I've failed. When I met you I thought, maybe this was it - this relationship will help me change my thinking, because you make me so happy. And some days, it does help, but-"

"But some days it makes you feel worse?" Jimin's arm untangles itself from his shoulder, his eyes shutter. "But some days being with me makes you feel bad about yourself?"

No, no, no. That's not it. That's the furthest thing from the truth.

"No," he sounds desperate, his shoulders bereft from the lack of Jimin's touch. A stone drops in his stomach, pulling all his insides together into an unrecognisable pile of debris. He is destroyed. "No, Jiminie, being with you is the best thing that ever happened to me. Please, never doubt me on that."

"Then help me understand, Tae," Jimin looks away from him now, puts some distance between them. "Help me understand what I'm doing wrong."

"It's not you, Jiminie, it's me." It sounds like such a cliche and Taehyung almost cringes while saying it. But the words are unquestionably true. "You're so perfect, Jiminie, and I'm just....I'm just someone so completely unremarkable."

Jimin is still facing away from Taehyung, but the change in his posture is unmistakable. He immediately stiffens, his spine rigid, his hands curled into fists.

"That's bullshit, Tae, and you know it."

"Jimin." He sighs.

Jimin gets up, slow and taut. It seems he is taking a moment to gather himself before he can look at Taehyung again. Taehyung doesn't blame him. "Your brain. Everything it tells you is bullshit. Every single thing. You're not unremarkable. I'm not perfect."

"Jiminie-"

"No, I won't hear it. " Jimin's eyes look nearly bloodshot from how red they are, but there is a determined set to his mouth. That's the face Jimin makes when he brooks no further argument, when he's decided on something and refuses to budge from that decision. Taehyung has lost this battle (though he doesn't know who he was fighting in the first place). "I need to. I need some space to think."

And that's yet another right Jimin has.

To take as much space as he wants. To put as much distance between them as he wants. In so many ways, this was inevitable. In so many ways, this thing with Jimin was always fragile, always bound to crumble into pieces.

"I'm going to get ready for bed," he continues, "Can I have the bathroom?"

"Yeah." Taehyung replies on autopilot. He finally gets up from the floor, gathering up the weighing scale along with him (maybe he'll dump it in the trash after tonight, maybe he’ll stuff it back in the rack and let it haunt him for the rest of his life). On his way out, he grabs a towel to dab at his face, attempting to dry away the tears that are still sneaking past his defenses. "I think I'll go to bed too."

----

Taehyung wakes up to an empty bed.

He never wakes up to an empty bed. Even when Jimin is up early, he's there to gently nudge Taehyung awake, there to kiss him good morning. Even when Jimin is away for the night - visiting his hometown, or crashing at Hoseok and Yoongi’s place after a late rehearsal - he'll call Taehyung early morning, will banish all traces of sleep with his sweet, melodic voice.

Taehyung's immediate impulse is to panic.

He doesn't remember whether Jimin got into bed with him last night. He'd fallen asleep long before Jimin could finish up in the bathroom, too wrung out from everything that had happened. And now, Jimin isn't there beside him. The right side of the bed is empty, the sheets so neatly made they almost look untouched.

Fuck.

I need space to think, Jimin had said. But did he really-

Would he really-

He's gone, isn't he? He's realised, once and for all, that Taehyung is the dead weight that he’s been carrying around for far too long, is too much of a burden to keep carrying. Taehyung isn’t worth the effort, has never been worth the effort.

On some level, Taehyung has always seen it coming, has been  bracing himself for the inevitable end all along. And yet, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. Jimin is gone, and he is alone again, in a bed that feels too empty, in a life that is hollow and guileless without Jimin in it.

He forces himself to get up. His head is pounding, and his eyes still feel puffy and swollen from all the crying last night. His legs are jelly, his chest too tight, but he still manages to haul himself into the bathroom and splash some water on his face.

If Jimin really has left, he can’t fall apart. If this was inevitable, if this was temporary from the start, then he should have learned, long ago, how to pull himself together. He should have learned, long ago, how to move on with his life. But the thing is, Taehyung is, and has always been pathetic. He got too used to Jimin, fell so deeply in love that he can no longer move on, can no longer continue to exist in a world where Jimin isn’t waking Taehyung up with his gentle kisses, where Jimin isn’t looking at him like Taehyung is his whole world.

From the corner of his eye, he notices Jimin's toothbrush, still sitting cosily beside Taehyung's on the bathroom counter. His toiletries are still strewn around too, all his skincare products, his fruity handwash, all unmistakable signs of Jimin’s presence.

But that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Maybe Jimin just didn’t have time to pack all his things. Maybe he will come back to collect them later, and then leave again.

The bathroom feels too painful - bringing back memories of the previous night he doesn’t want to dwell on - but it holds no visible signs of Taehyung’s earlier breakdown. Apart from the scattered toiletries, the counter is squeaky clean; the floor too. It makes sense, though. Jimin is a stress-cleaner. Taehyung forces himself to look at his reflection in the mirror, to really look at it, not just cursorily, not just avoiding eye contact. The visible signs of his breakdown are there, on his face - in the bags under his eyes, in his tangled, uncombed hair, in the redness of his nose.

Namjoon is good at what he does. Yoongi’s voice echoes again. Give him a chance.

And maybe, just maybe …

He needs to. He needs to get out of his head, needs to stop feeling so disgusting every single morning. He needs to learn how to not make people like Jimin leave.

But he can’t think about this now. Not at this moment, when his brain-fog has still not cleared. He can’t stay in the bathroom any longer.

His stomach grumbles, and he belatedly realises he skipped dinner last night. He wipes his face, pulls on the first shirt he can find, and finally steps outside. But before he can close the distance between the living room and the open kitchen, he skids to a halt.

Could that be-

There’s bustling in the kitchen. A familiar form, facing its back to Taehyung, ambling about putting ingredients together. He’s humming under his breath in that same sweet, melodic voice that to Taehyung, is like a taste of heaven. There’s the  ding of the toaster, the whir of the coffee machine, the smell of frying eggs.

There’s Jimin, in his favourite blue oversized sweater that he likes wearing in the mornings - the one that dwarfs his shorts, makes it seem like he’s wearing nothing underneath.

He hasn't noticed Taehyung yet, his full concentration focused on whatever he’s making for breakfast, and Taehyung takes this moment to just drink him in, to let himself breathe, to let the relief wash over his entire body. Hope flutters in his chest, though he’s cautious; this might still be temporary, might even be an elaborate hallucination.

“You’re still here.”

Jimin startles at the sound of his voice, turns around to face him with a visibly confused look. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I, uh-” suddenly, Taehyung is deeply embarrassed. The way Jimin frames it, like his presence is obvious, like this morning is nothing out of the ordinary, renders his earlier panic attack completely ridiculous. He’s so stupid to have jumped to the worst possible conclusion. He’s so stupid for thinking Jimin would leave so abruptly, without a single word. Even if he wanted to, he’d do it right. He’ll always let Taehyung down easy, will try to soothe Taehyung’s wounds as much possible. That’s the type of person Jimin is - endlessly kind, endlessly forgiving.

“I don’t know,” is what Taehyung settles on, finally walking over to the kitchen and settling down at the makeshift counter-cum-dining-table. “I’m just being an idiot. I’m sorry.”

Jimin pauses his cooking to stare straight at him now, his gaze piercing into Taehyung’s very soul. Taehyung swallows hard.

Jimin can always read him like an open book.

“You thought I was going to leave.” It’s not even a question. Taehyung ducks his head in shame, can’t bear to look at Jimin anymore. He’s so stupid.

But Jimin, perfect, beautiful Jimin, so kind, so understanding, so ready to give Taehyung everything, abandons breakfast and walks over, pulling up a chair to sit right beside him.

“Taetae,” he says gently, “I’m not going anywhere, okay? Tae-ah, please look at me.”

He inhales sharply, but does what Jimin says. He meets Jimin’s gaze again, and sees the sincerity written all over it. The hope in his heart flutters again.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung is making a habit of apologising, but he also doesn’t know what else to say. He feels like he constantly needs to apologise just for being who he is.

Jimin leans in to cup both of Taehyung’s cheeks with his hands, places a chaste but achingly tender kiss on his lips. “You don’t have to apologise, baby,” his breath ghosts over Taehyung’s, “From now on, I’m not letting you apologise for anything else.”

“Jiminie-”

“Last night,” he cuts in, “When I said I needed space to think, I went for a walk. But all I could think of was you, and of all the times we’ve walked aimlessly around the city without a destination in mind. I thought about every moment we’ve spent with each other in our time together, and how special they are to me. I thought about how walks suck without you, how my whole life sucks with you. I know that in the grand scheme of things, we’ve only been dating for a little while, but I’m in this for the long haul, Taetae. I want to be with you forever.”

“J-Jiminie,” Taehyung doesn’t know how to process such a thing. He feels all the spectrum of emotions he feels for Jimin crashing about in his intestines, taking over his whole consciousness, “Are you s-sure?”

Something in Jimin’s expression gets more determined, much like last night, when Taehyung had told him about all his issues. Taehyung feels terrified, but before his brain can jump to the worst possible conclusion again, Jimin captures his mouth into a rough, searing kiss, with lips crashing together and tongue slipping past teeth.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my life.” Jimin says when they part, “I thought about everything you said last night, and yeah, in the beginning I was mad. I was mad that there’s been so much going on in your head all along and that I’ve been too scared to ask you about it. I was mad at your brain, for thinking up unrealistic scenarios, and a little bit at you, for doubting my love. But mostly I was just mad at myself for noticing the signs but never knowing what to do. I was mad at myself because my wilful ignorance made you suffer all the more. And if there’s one thing I can’t bear, Taehyungie, is seeing you suffer. So I decided I’m going to try harder. I want to be a good boyfriend, I want to work harder to show you how much you mean to me. I want to give you all the love in the world, Taehyungie, and take away as much of your pain as I can.”

Taehyung’s heart threatens to seize up. He does not deserve this man, he thinks, yet again. “No , Jiminie.” he says, voice threatening to shake yet again, “Please don’t put it on yourself. You weren’t doing anything wrong in the first place, you shouldn’t have to work harder, just because of my stupid insecurities. You’re already the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.”

Jimin’s eyes soften. He’s still holding Taehyung’s face in his hands and leans down to kiss him again, this time slow and sweet, taking his time to explore every inch of Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung unravels under the kiss, hungrily soaks up every piece of Jimin he is given. It leaves him breathless, panting.

“Neither of us were doing anything wrong,” Jimin whispers when they part, “That’s the conclusion I came to, last night. It’s no one’s fault. But I’m also not going to let you deal with all this stuff alone, okay? We’re in this together, Taehyungie, and I want to be good for you. I want to be there for you.”

Taehyung does not deserve this man, not one bit, but he still has him. He still has Jimin - who is here, who hasn’t left, who’s not going anywhere. He still has Jimin, who, despite knowing Taehyung’s truth, wants to be with him forever, wants to help him.

And Taehyung is not an idiot. He knows he’s lucky - he’s always been lucky, to get to have someone like Jimin - but this time, he’s going to do everything in his power to hold on to that luck.

This time, he is going to do whatever it takes to deserve Jimin.

Maybe it finally is time to give Kim Namjoon a call.

But right now, Jimin is holding him close, is looking at him with all the tenderness in the world. This time Taehyung is the one who leans in for the kiss, channeling into it the depth of his gratitude, his affection, the hope that is still fluttering and expanding in his chest.

“I love you so much, Jimin-ah,” he says in between kisses, as Jimin pulls him closer and closer until he ends up straddling Jimin’s lap. The fried eggs have burnt on the pan long ago and the toast lies forgotten, still in the toaster. But neither of them care about breakfast right now.

Jimin’s hand slips under Taehyung’s shirt, softly caresses the chub of his back, runs along the folds of his tummy. “I love you too, Taetae,” he breathes into Taehyung’s mouth, “You are so pretty, so perfect.”

Perfect is a word that describes Jimin, not him. I’m not perfect, Jimin had said last night, and Taehyung hadn’t believed him even a little.

“I’m not perfect,” Taehyung repeats Jimin’s words back to him, though he’s too distracted by Jimin’s hungry touches all over his bare skin. It means something today, when Jimin is touching the fat along his stomach with so much deference, is calling him pretty and perfect like it’s the gospel truth. It means something, when Jimin is unwrapping him like the most valuable present he’s ever received.

And yeah, Taehyung knows he’s not perfect, but maybe-

Maybe, the weight of the imperfection isn’t quite so suffocating.

Maybe, he’ll be alright. They will be alright.

“You are,” Jimin kisses a mole under Taehyung’s eye, brings another hand under Taehyung’s shirt to lift it up further and discard it entirely. “To me, you are.” He lowers his head to place gentle kisses along the expanse of Taehyung’s exposed skin, taking his time to worship every ridge, every roll of flab. Taehyung feels like he will burst into tears again, but this time because he’s utterly overwhelmed by Jimin’s affection, because he's utterly undone by it.

“I don’t say it enough, do I?” He looks up from Taehyung’s stomach briefly to make eye contact, “I don’t call you pretty enough.”

“You do.” And it’s true, Jimin has said it so many times.  But Taehyung has never believed it, has always considered it a mere platitude. But, like this, with Jimin’s mouth working its way along the curves and edges of his body that he can’t even acknowledge exists sometimes, much less can derive pleasure from - he wants to believe JImin.

Usually, when Jimin touches him with the intent to undress, to devour, Taehyung often feels unworthy, conscious of everything he’s not. The awareness of his flaws heighten; he can’t focus without worrying about what Jimin is thinking about his bare skin, without worrying about whether Jimin is judging him, whether Jimin is grossed out. It’s not that Jimin doesn’t take control or doesn’t give as much as he gets, it’s just that - it is so much easier to turn it around, to become the person offering up pleasure rather than receiving it.

It is so much easier to focus on Jimin’s body instead of his own, to give it his undivided attention, to be singularly fixated on making Jimin feel good. Bringing Jimin to his climax is its own rush, an uniquely exhilarating experience. Taehyung has always been more than happy with it, hasn’t wanted anything more. Hasn’t worried about his own climax.

But right now, Jimin is unlocking something within him that’s previously untapped,  is totally, mind-bogglingly new. Jimin is making him feel good, taking his time to explore and cherish it in a way he has never done before. On any other day, Taehyung would subconsciously withdraw, would either try to direct Jimin’s attention away from his body, or try to take this to its conclusion as quickly as possible. But, maybe because they’ve talked about it now, maybe because Jimin has openly admitted that he’s not going anywhere and still loves Taehyung for who he is; or maybe because something fundamental within him is on the brink of change; he doesn’t want Jimin to stop.

On a completely primitive level, he feels both powerful and completely at Jimin’s mercy. Jimin’s touch is intoxicating and he feels it everywhere, right to his toes. He feels-

He finally feels.

He finally lets himself feel the parts of his body he so desperately tries to ignore, and it’s good, it’s so good.

“No, I don’t say it enough,” Jimin whimpers, his mouth taking a break from licking a line right below Taehyung’s chest. One of his hands has travelled to Taehyung’s ass, cupping and squeezing it with inordinate reverence. “And you need to hear it all the time. You’re so pretty, Taehyungie. My lovely, sweetest Taehyungie.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat, the traitorous hint of moisture finally welling up at the edge of his eye, “Thank you,” he says, and as always, he means it in more ways than one.

Taehyung is not perfect, and he knows he won’t be. Taehyung doesn’t feel entirely pretty either, but when Jimin is saying it in that particular awestruck tone of voice…

Something fundamental within him is on the brink of change, even if that change is gradual.

The knots in his stomach are untangling.

After a long time, he is able to forget about his body in the moment. He is pliant in Jimin’s arms, ready for Jimin to bring him to his climax.

---

Later, when they’re lying in bed, naked and spent and wrapped around each other under the sheets  (so, so content ), Jimin kisses Taehyung’s forehead and says, “Hey, will you indulge me on something?”

They both decided to take the day off, both wanting to lie in and not really do much at all. Jimin is still overwrought from his performance last night - apparently, he also got very little sleep - and Taehyung, like yesterday, continues to have no brainspace to be productive. His clients can wait. For now, he wants to spend all his time tangled in Jimin, wants to bask in his presence for as long as he is allowed.

“Is it another sex thing?” Taehyung jokes, though of course, right now he’s not at all averse to anything Jimin wants to try in bed.

“No, silly,” Jimin giggles, “It’s something else.”

Taehyung pushes himself up to face Jimin directly, to get a better look at him. Jimin’s head rests on Taehyung’s chest, his body almost all on top of Taehyung. He is staring back with an oddly serious look in his eye, and for a moment, Taehyung has a sudden terrifying thought. “It’s not...something serious right? You haven’t changed your mind after…?”

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin immediately counters, the serious look in his eyes shifting into something familiar - that determined set to his jaw he often gets, “if you’re about to suggest that I have in any way stopped feeling the same way about you after the excellent sex we just had, then stop right there. Don’t even finish that thought.”

Taehyung feels ridiculous all over again for assuming the worst. By now Taehyung should have learned to interpret that determined look. Jimin’s not mad at Taehyung at all, only protective of him. It’s kind of sweet.

Taehyung lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

Jimin brings his face up to kiss Taehyung’s nose and smiles his gorgeous crescent-eyed smile. “Hey, it’s okay,” Jimin says, “We’ll deal with that big brain of yours one day at a time, yeah?”

Taehyung nods, trying not to think about how he doesn’t deserve Jimin this time. Trying to think the opposite, trying to just be...grateful for Jimin’s presence.

“So, uh,” Jimin continues, “Hobi-hyung and Jungkookie are gonna teach a ballroom dancing class at the Gangnam-gu Community Centre this summer. I mean it’s nothing too fancy, just something on the side for them to earn a bit of extra money and help people learn and have fun, and uh...” He trails off, biting his lip nervously. His eyes are big and a little nervous. It’s a rare look on him.

“And?” Taehyung prompts, curious.

“And.” Jimin seems to be holding a breath, “It’s a couples’ class.”

Oh.

He can see where this is going now.

“Oh.”

“There’s no pressure at all, Taehyungie, but I just...I don’t know. I kind of want to do this. With you.”

Dancing? Now there’s something Taehyung hasn’t ever considered.

Even contemplating any kind of physical activity beyond just walking is hard for him, it is always a painful reminder of his lack of stamina, his lack of muscle, his lack of grace and dexterity. There’s a reason why he can hardly get through a single workout without feeling like the whole world is spinning out of his control, and dancing....

Dancing seems just yet another thing that will set him up to fail.

When Jimin dances, he makes it look effortless. His movements are so fluid, so natural, it hardly looks like he’s flexing a muscle. But Taehyung? Taehyung can’t ever do that.

Or.

Can he?

“Why this?” He asks, and he really wants to know. If Jimin wanted to learn the art of ballroom dancing, he could always ask Hoseok and Jungkook for private lessons. He didn’t need to sign up for a class at the community centre where being the other half of a couple was a necessity. “Why me?”

Jimin bites his lip again, but shifts closer to Taehyung, brings up a hand to caress his cheek. “I’ve always wanted to learn ballroom. And I...I sort of want to do it with you? It’s such an intimate dance form and I can think of no one else with whom I want to perform it.” he pauses for a breath, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but after last night, I thought, this could be the right time? It could be good, you know. It could...maybe...make you feel more confident about your body?”

Taehyung doubts it, he doubts anything will truly make him feel more confident about himself, will change how big and ugly and stupid he feels day in and day out - and this, dancing with Jimin in a semi-public setting where everyone is free to stare at them, is free to compare the two of them - it’ll hardly be the solution. They might even be the only gay couple there, and that’ll just make it worse.

But then.

Merely minutes ago, he had felt good . Genuinely, bone-tickling, from-head-to-toe good; all because he finally lowered his inhibitions and let Jimin have his way with him. He finally let Jimin open him up, slow and sweet, and shower him with the unchecked force of his affection. He finally let himself forget about his body for a few moments and concentrate, instead, on how Jimin was making him feel.

So maybe. Just maybe. Feeling good again...is not impossible?

He tries to visualise it, dancing with Jimin. He’s never tried any kind of dancing, much less ballroom dancing, which requires precision and coordination and a sense of rhythm - Jimin has all of those things, they’re his second nature, and Taehyung isn’t sure he does.

But Jimin is kind and patient and helpful, he will hold Taehyung steady, will guide his movements, will help him correct his posture. Then, when he’s gotten the hang of it, he will stare into Jimin’s sparkling eyes and they will glide across the dance floor in perfect harmony like he’s seen in countless movies and dramas. They’ll lose track of time.

Dancing with Jimin - it seems like a dream.

Taehyung has clearly taken longer than necessary to respond because Jimin is fidgeting in his arms, ready to backtrack. “You know, it’s okay,” he says, “You can say no. There’s no pressure, it was just a….silly thought. Let’s just sleep a little, and then we can go out for a late lunch.”

Taehyung stares down at Jimin, who is trying to brush it off as nothing, trying to pretend like this is a conversation that doesn’t have substance to it. Clearly, this means something to Jimin. Clearly, this is more than an active attempt to help Taehyung feel confident.

He decides then and there, he needs to start working on being a good boyfriend too.

Taehyung places a hand over Jimin’s, then brings their entwined fingers to his lips. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Jimin’s eyes widen with a mixture of glee and surprise. “Seriously? You will?”

“I promise,” Taehyung says, and this time, leans down to kiss Jimin for real.

He means it.

----

“Sorry we’re late,” Hoseok says, before Yoongi and him settle into the opposite end of the table, right beside Jungkook, “My sister’s moving to Japan so she came over to leave her puppy with us. We’ll be looking after him until we can find him a permanent home.”

“A puppy!” Jungkook squeals - who Taehyung is convinced at this point is perpetually in awe of everything around him (it’s quite cute, actually). “What’s he like!!! What breed is he!! Oh my god can I meet him?”

“Of course you can meet him Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “He’s the spawn of satan, but adorable, I guess. Come to think of it, he’s a lot like you. You two will get along.”

“Yah!” Jungkook squeals again, both in indignation and excitement; Taehyung has never seen someone so utterly thrilled at the prospect of meeting a dog and not for the first time, he feels a familiar pang of guilt. He can’t believe he’d resented this boy for no reason at all.

Jimin and Hoseok giggle in unison at Yoongi’s teasing, and pull Jungkook’s leg a little more. There is an apparent fondness in the way all three of them regard the maknae, and Taehyung can see why. It’s hard to not love Jungkook,  and Taehyung can’t help but contain the smile that settles on his lips from watching Jungkook get loud and flustered and pouty as he jokes around with his hyungs.

Oh, Taehyung has been so stupid.

He is surrounded by all these nice, warm people - Jungkook, who is pure and wholesome and sweet, Hoseok who is bright and funny and intelligent, and Yoongi, who is quiet but always so perceptive, always so caring - and he realises all too late that he’s been holding himself back all along. He’s never really let himself enjoy their company, has never felt like he’s worthy of their company.

He’s still new to Jungkook, but he’s known Yoongi and Hoseok for months, has spent time with them and has gotten to know them - and yet he hasn’t opened up as much as he should have. He hasn’t shared as many details about his life, as many of his intimate, personal thoughts, as they do with him. Yoongi is sneaky, has tried to gradually and painstakingly work his way past Taehyung’s defences, but Hoseok has always given him his space, has waited for Taehyung to approach first before approaching him.

And Taehyung has never made that approach.

He feels guilty all over again, which seems to have become a running theme in his life. Guilt, from missing out on so much. Guilt, from hurting the people who unconditionally care about him. Guilt, from being jealous of a kid who’s so unquestionably good, purely because he’s conventionally handsome.

God, Taehyung is so pathetic, and he knows it. Taehyung is pathetic, and he knows it, but he can no longer just sit and wallow in it.

It’s been two weeks since his big breakdown and his resulting conversation with Jimin. It’s been slow progress since then, but no less significant - both of them relearning each other, both of them giving each other the space to grow, the space to make mistakes; both of them communicating more. When he wakes up every morning to Jimin’s sweet, indulgent kisses, he can feel their shared love blooming, flourishing, expanding beyond what he can ever imagine. He’s getting there, he thinks. Closer to believing that he deserves to have nice things.

Taehyung finally got rid of the weighing scale yesterday - he’d put it up for sale online, and a funny-looking college kid immediately snatched it up, came by the apartment and took it off his hands. In the end, it felt a little anticlimactic. He was expecting...more - either an intense sinking feeling, or an intense sense of relief. But when it was all said and done, he felt...nothing. The loss of the weighing scale didn’t make the world fall apart, and there was something significant in that too.

There is something (very, very gradually) changing - and its disingenuous to attribute it only to Jimin, only to the two of them being more open and communicative with each other - but maybe, he doesn’t have to find a concrete reason for that change. Maybe, he doesn’t have to bookend the change with a starting and finishing point; he can simply let it happen. He can simply ride on this good momentum, and continue to do better.

For now, though he needs to change this. He needs to learn to recognise the compassion that comes his way, and needs to give it back. He needs to appreciate the friendships in his life, and learn to stop feeling like he’s not allowed to reciprocate.

“Anyway,” Yoongi interrupts his thoughts once him, Hoseok and Jimin are done teasing Jungkook, “What’s the occasion? Why are you buying us dinner on a weeknight, Tae-ah?”

“Oh,um,” Taehyung replies, suddenly a little bashful, “Actually, this is me making up for the other night. I shouldn’t have left so suddenly and I...wanted to treat you guys to dinner as an apology.”

Hoseok and Yoongi exchange a look, and Yoongi just shrugs. It’s hard to tell what they’re thinking, and Taehyung is scared they’ll bring it up, they’ll ask the real reason why he’d left that night instead of staying for drinks. Under the table, Jimin squeezes Taehyung’s hand reassuringly, and Taehyung breathes a tad bit easier.

“Aww, Taehyungie,” Hoseok coos,  and fortunately, Taehyung’s fears are unfounded.

“You have nothing to make up for, it’s okay.”

Hoseok gives Taehyung a meaningful look, and Taehyung realises he’s trying to say more with his words than what’s on the surface. He feels so grateful to have this kind of support, this kind of leniency.

“No, I do,” he insists. “It was rude of me to leave like that when it was supposed to be a celebration. I must have totally ruined the mood.”

“No you didn’t, hyung,” It’s Jungkook who chimes in this time, “You weren’t feeling well, it’s okay, happens to the best of us! But I’m glad you invited me tonight. I’m always up for free food!”

Jimin and Hoseok laugh again, and  Taehyung feels something full crowd his chest. Jungkook is just so good , shining with beauty, inside and out. For some unfathomable reason, Jungkook still considers Taehyung "cool", and though he continues to not know what to do with that, he feels like he knows where to start.

“I’m glad you came, Jungkookie. Thank you,” Jungkook smiles wide and elated, his cute bunny teeth on full display. And he, just regular old Taehyung, is the one who put that smile on his face. It’s nice. God, it’s so nice to realise this.

He wants to keep feeling this nice. He wants to-

“Hey, Jungkook-ah,” he says, taking a stab in the dark, “You said you wanted to learn more about graphic design, right?”

Jungkook’s smile grows wider (if that was even possible) and he nods vigorously. Taehyung smiles back at him. “How about you drop by Jimin’s café sometime on a weekday? I usually work out of there from 10 to 6. I could show you some things.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook squeals yet again, and Hoseok and Yoongi wear identical pleased smiles. Yoongi reaches over to pat Taehyung’s hand (the one not being currently held by Jimin), which makes him think, yes, this was the right thing to do.  

But Jimin takes this opportunity to tease Jungkook yet again, mock-whining about how Jungkook will now monopolise all of Taehyung’s time when he’s at the café, not leaving enough for Jimin to flirt with his boyfriend. Jungkook responds in kind, teasing Jimin in return about how he already does enough flirting with his boyfriend to last him a lifetime. Their back-and-forth is rapid, like it always is, but this time, Taehyung doesn’t feel like he’s on the outside. He sees it for what it is - utterly endearing.

(Later, in a stolen minute when the others are distracted, Jimin will kiss the back of his ear and whisper, “You are so amazing, do you know that Taehyungie?” It will mean the world to him.)

“Hey, you can both monopolise my time,” Taehyung says, and that quells their banter, makes them both giggle and break into a series of “awws”. “Now, tell me, what do you guys wanna eat?”

Taehyung ends up ordering them lots of soju and samgyeopsal and lamb skewers (which turns out to be Jungkook’s favourite), and the conversation flows. Hoseok and Yoongi share fond anecdotes about their new foster-puppy, to Jungkook's utter delight. Jimin talks about the new choreography he's working on, about how he’s thinking of performing a solo next, and Hoseok looks on like a proud father. Jungkook talks about being unsure of his future plans - he wants to apply to a performing arts school in America, but he’s also interested in digital art, wants to stay here in Seoul and explore that avenue. Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi all jokingly warn him to not abandon them and move to America, but he knows they’ll all support Jungkook in whatever he chooses to do.

And Taehyung-

If this were another day, he'd be quiet. He'd listen attentively to every single conversation, would nod and smile in the exact right places, but wouldn't volunteer any information about his own life. After all, he’s hardly interesting in comparison to these wonderful, vibrant people whose personalities light up an entire room. They all have such interesting, important stories and Taehyung - Taehyung is just a person who hates his body and designs websites for a living. There's nothing more to him. Or is there?

Right now, in this little circle of mirth and mutual affection, Taehyung doesn't feel so left out. Maybe he's still unremarkable, doesn't have engaging opinions to offer like that of Yoongi or endearing antics like that of Jungkook, but maybe that's okay. He's still okay. He got these people together, is treating them to dinner, is causing them to have a good time, and that’s more than enough.

Suddenly, he feels like he wants to say something, anything .

He clears his throat, and everyone suddenly pauses mid-conversation to look at him. "Uh," he begins, wanting to come up with something smart and funny but the words getting stuck to the roof of his mouth. Jimin squeezes his hand again, as if sensing that his brain is working overtime. As if knowing he needs help. Taehyung looks up at Jimin's sweet smile, his look of gentle reassurance, his pretty body, flush against Taehyung's.

It's okay. He's okay.

And then it hits him. Taehyung doesn't want to say anything smart or funny, no interesting rejoinder or stray comment about his day. He wants to share a piece of himself, just like all these people are sharing a piece of themselves, and not just any piece. His most important piece. His truth.

He's said it once already, to Jimin, the love of his life - and he's still here, isn't he? Jimin is still here, as prominent as ever, and so will these people. These people who have always loved him, these people who are his friends and who also deserve to know what he’s been struggling with all this while.

"I have something to say to all of you," Taehyung starts again, swallowing hard.

"Oooh, is it a new work project?" Hoseok pipes up.

"Ooh yes hyung, tell us about your project!" Jungkook joins in, "Are you finally making a video game? Jimin hyung told me you also want to make video games someday and actually, I had some ideas-"

"Yah!" Jimin cuts in before Jungkook goes off on a tangent, "Let Taehyungie finish speaking!"

"Go on, baby," Jimin squeezes his hand again, places a calming kiss to his cheek.

For some reason, Yoongi is the one Taehyung involuntarily seeks out, meeting his eyes. He doesn’t know why he needs Yoongi’s validation, but he realises that he really, really does. Yoongi’s the one who’s always sensed his pain without him ever saying anything, the one who’s tried to be there for him without making him feel smothered or coddled. Yoongi’s been such a good friend and a good hyung, anticipating his needs, offering unexpected comfort, and right now, he can’t do this if Yoongi doesn’t want him to.

But as always, Yoongi doesn't disappoint. He smiles an encouraging half-smile and nods. "Yeah,” he says, “Go on, Tae-ah."

And that’s all Taehyung needs.

"It's not a work thing, actually-" he continues, but falters for a bit. He’s trying to summon up the words to his tongue, is trying to tell himself, yet again, this is okay, I’m gonna be okay.

Jimin wraps an arm around him, pulls him close. Says, "Hey, you're doing great."

Jungkook and Hoseok are both looking at him with eager anticipation. Yoongi's demeanour is more calm, but his half-smile is still in place. He nods once more, small but infinitely encouraging.

"What is it, Tae-ah?" it’s Hoseok this time, eyes soft, smile pretty and welcoming, “Tell us what’s on your mind.”

Taehyung clears his throat again with more determination, with more courage.

"So," he picks up from where he left off earlier. "Have you guys heard of body dysmorphia?"

---

It’s an older residential neighbourhood in Jung-gu, quiet and unassuming, rife with Japanese colonial-style architecture. The houses are stacked together, close-knit, and almost identical in structure and size and shape, with grey tapering roofs and faded walls. In the midst of it all is an equally unassuming building, its paint chipped in the places where the cement has cracked over time. It doesn’t look too inviting - looks quite the opposite, in its dilapidated state -but a row of flowering plants near the doorstep add a bit of colour, a rare sign of emerging life to cut through the staleness of the air.

Jimin holds on to his hand tighter than usual. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

They’ve been standing near the doorstep for the past twenty minutes, staring up at the building in quiet contemplation. Taehyung’s heart has been beating at breakneck pace, uncertainty thumping at his ribcage, but Jimin hasn’t rushed him, has given him the space to wait and gather his thoughts before they enter through the doors.

Surprisingly, it is not as catastrophic as he had imagined it would be. He is anxious, but not irreparably so. He’s aware of his big-ness, his feet heavy and sluggish - but his brain isn’t shouting his lack of worth at him like a steady reminder.

He’s here, and Jimin is with him. Jimin is holding his hand and it is, perhaps- okay.

Taehyung turns to face Jimin briefly, drops a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Yeah,” he replies.

When Jimin first insisted on coming along with him, it felt scary. Taehyung told him again and again that he can do this alone, that he needs to do this alone, but Jimin can be persistent when he wants to be. In retrospect, his fears were unfounded. That terrible ordeal of making himself known is now way past them - Jimin is now aware of everything, of every last shred of self-loathing that crosses Taehyung’s mind, of every inch of hesitation Taehyung feels about his body (and himself) and has never, for a single moment, been anything less than completely understanding. And yet, it was so hard. It was so hard letting his inhibitions unravel, to have Jimin accompany him to a place where he would be forced to be vulnerable.

But in this moment, Taehyung is infinitely glad Jimin is here, is grounding him like he always does, with his touch. This way, he can’t run, regardless of how fast his heart is beating. This way, he feels more motivated to propel himself forward rather than go back to scratch.

Jimin had known he needs him before Taehyung himself did, and Taehyung is never going to stop thanking his lucky stars for being loved by a man like Jimin.

“Ah, Kim Taehyung-sshi, is that you?” The door has opened, and an unnervingly attractive broad-shouldered man has appeared on the other end. He’s wearing a crisp, formal shirt coupled with round glasses, and holds a clipboard in his hand - possibly containing the form Taehyung had to fill before coming here, detailing his medical history. He looks almost too prim and proper - a total anomaly in this quiet, dilapidated, old-world neighbourhood.

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies, trying to keep the nerves at bay, trying to keep his heart from beating too fast. “And this is Park Jimin-sshi, my uh-”

He trails off, faltering. He’s often at a loss when it comes to introducing the two of them as a couple to total strangers. There’s always the possibility of the person on the other end being homophobic, of them saying something mean and uncalled for that always ends up hurting Taehyung more than it should, a cruel reminder that he’s never good enough for Jimin.

But the man smiles. “Your partner?”

“I-” Taehyung feels the panic steadily rising  along his spine. He hates it when someone else takes the words away from him, especially when he’s not at all sure of this person’s intentions.

“I’m sorry, I just saw you two kiss from the window.” The man seems to have sensed the tension in Taehyung’s demeanour, because his expression softens, turns genuinely apologetic, “And I assumed-it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me that. It’s not important. But this is a hundred percent queer-friendly clinic, just so you know.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look. Jimin bites his lip, shrugs. “I trust this guy,” he seems to imply, and Taehyung exhales. He trusts Jimin’s instincts. And besides, the man may look prim, but there’s nothing threatening about him. He looks….sincere.

“Yeah,” Taehyung decides to reply in the end, “Jimin’s my boyfriend.”

The man immediately brightens up, smiles in a way that betrays genuine delight, not simply professional courtesy. “Oh wonderful!” He exclaims, “Come in, please! I’m Kim Seokjin, by the way. Nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to meet you too, Seokjin-sshi,” Jimin says with a smile. He always has an affinity with new people, and he seems to be warming up to this Kim Seokjin already. Yet again, Taehyung decides he trusts Jimin’s instincts.

Seokjin leads them inside to what looks like a reception-cum-waiting-area, with a large desk in the middle and a bench opposite it. There’s a door right behind the reception desk, and the placard reads, “Kim Namjoon, psychotherapist.”

“I hope you both didn’t have trouble finding the place,” Seokjin says as he settles behind the desk and beckons Taehyung and Jimin to sit on the bench, “I know the neighbourhood isn’t the most...sophisticated, but we’re a small clinic, at least for now.”

Yoongi had told him about it a little, how Namjoon had started this psychotherapy practice to not just help people who are too scared to approach government mental health institutions (that are exploitative and incompetent), as well as those who couldn’t afford expensive private clinics that cater only to a specific clientele. Apparently, Namjoon offered heavy discounts to his not-so-financially-stable clients, and for some clients he waived the fee altogether. That’s partially the reason why Taehyung had said yes in the first place, this Namjoon seemed like a good guy doing good things. Maybe, he really can help someone as broken as Taehyung.

Besides, Taehyung decides that it’s better this way - better that the clinic is small, that it’s in a residential neighbourhood rather than on a busy street, that the person at the reception is someone like Seokjin, who, after the initial awkwardness, is actually good at putting people at ease. If Taehyung has to do this, he’s glad he chose Kim Namjoon’s clinic.

“No we didn’t have trouble finding the place, Seokjin-sshi,” Taehyung replies, “Our apartment is only a few kilometres away. It wasn’t a long walk.”

Seokjin smiles wider, warm and kind and inviting. “Good.” he says, “Wait here for a few more minutes, Namjoon-ah is in with another client, but he’ll be done soon. Should I get you two a glass of water in the meantime? Or a cup of tea?”

“No it’s okay Seokjin-sshi. We’re good,” Jimin replies. Jimin tangles his leg around Taehyung’s and surreptitiously closer as they sit together on the hard, wooden bench. His grip on Taehyung’s hand is not as tight as it was before, but it’s still there, firm and potent, soothing the skittering of his pulse.

Yeah, Taehyung thinks, looking down at their joined hands, they are good.

----

Kim Namjoon is both exactly what he expected and nothing like it.

For starters, he’s absurdly tall, with a build that definitely betrays the fact that he indulges in some form of exercise or the other. It should be intimidating, and to be honest, it kind of is, but then-

The minute Taehyung enters Namjoon’s chambers, he hears rap music drifting from a tiny speaker on the table - not the angry kind, the slow, sultry kind. The kind Taehyung likes. It envelopes the room, makes it seem less daunting.

“Ah, Taehyung-sshi, welcome.” Namjoon gets up from his chair to greet him with a dazzling dimpled smile, shakes his hand with unprecedented tenderness. He seems sweet, approachable. “Sorry I like listening to a bit of music in between sessions, it helps me process my thoughts.”

“Epik High?” Taehyung asks as Namjoon reaches towards the speaker to turn off the music. Taehyung doesn’t know where this inexplicable candidness is coming from - usually he is never the first to volunteer small talk, never the first to ask a relative stranger which artist they were listening to.

Namjoon’s smile grows bigger, his dimples deepening, “Yeah, I’m a big fan. Their new album is amazing.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies, can’t help smiling in return, “I like their new album too.”

And he isn’t sure how this happened, how he suddenly felt comfortable enough to share this piece of information - though seemingly innocuous, but big for Taehyung, who is always scared to open up, always scared to share nuggets about himself. But there’s something magic about this place - from the outside, this building looks empty, haunted, but inside there’s only a bubble of comfort and ease.

He’s always considered therapists to be cold, emotionless, austere-looking creatures - at least that’s what he’s always been told they are, that’s how his previous experiences have been - but Namjoon is the exact opposite. Namjoon is easy dimpled smiles and earnest mirth and a room full of kaws dolls of various shapes and sizes (“they’re great for stress relief,” is all Namjoon says when Taehyung asks about them later). Namjoon is the guy who, before he even begins their session, talks animatedly about what he appreciates about the various rapping styles of each Epik High member.

Namjoon, much like Seokjin, is sincere.

“So,” Namjoon begins once he’s through with his brief treatise on korean hip-hop, settling down on his chair and gesturing Taehyung to take the couch right opposite him. Taehyung complies. “What do you want to talk about today, Kim Taehyung-sshi?”

He has to swallow past the lump in his throat.

It was too much, to expect that the bubble wouldn’t burst. It was too much, to expect that the entire hour could just comprise of animated discussions on hip-hop groups. Namjoon was simply breaking the ice.

And now here it comes, the difficult part. His apparent doom.

Ever since he shakily decided he was going to come see Namjoon, he’s pictured this moment a million times in his head. He’s tried to picture what he wants to say, where he wants to start. The prospect of baring himself - subject to someone else’s complete scrutiny - is utterly harrowing; he’s scared of not just making his feelings known, but of having those feelings picked apart, put under the microscope.

He’s half convinced Namjoon will dismiss those feelings, will laugh at him for how stupid he is, will say “You’re not even fat, Taehyung-sshi, why do you worry so much?”

(At least, that’s what his last therapist had done.)

It’s utterly harrowing, and Taehyung’s mind is scrambling for purchase, trying to find the right words but constantly failing. God, this was a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t have come, after all. Maybe he still isn’t ready. Maybe he-

“Hey, Taehyung-sshi, it’s okay,” as if Namjoon senses his oncoming panic attack, senses that he’s lost and struggling, “You can also not talk if you don’t want to. Relax, yeah? We can just sit here and listen to music for the rest of the session.”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Taehyung somehow manages. Namjoon is leaning forward, looking at Taehyung with the kindest eyes, looking like he actually cares, actually wants to listen. But he also gives Taehyung the breadth to settle his breathing, to loosen his hesitation. And its-

It’s again, a push-and-pull. A give-and-take. He’s on the receiving end of someone’s kindness, and he has to remind himself that it’s okay to give back. It’s okay to reciprocate. It’s okay to, perhaps, open up.

“I want to talk about,” Taehyung begins, “Myself. And also Jimin, who is my boyfriend.”

Namjoon’s dimples return. He turns to a new page in the notebook on his lap - and it seems symbolic. A new page, for Taehyung. A blank slate. “Tell me about yourself, Kim Taehyung-sshi,” he says, “Tell me about yourself and your boyfriend Jimin-sshi.”

And yeah.

The words still get stuck in his throat, still feel heavy on his tongue. The fear of judgement still lurks at the back of his spine, ready to claw itself into his skin. But there is also Namjoon, nodding at the right places, asking him the right questions, letting him talk, talk, talk.

Letting him unfurl his soul.

On a practical level, Taehyung knows that this is just his job, therapists are supposed to be this way - good listeners, good advice-givers - but there is something deeply human about Namjoon, something mature and fundamentally reassuring. Namjoon is the warmth of a burning fire after a long and desolate winter; he listens, he cares.

Yoongi was right, Taehyung thinks. Namjoon is good at what he does.

----

Later, when they’re outside, Jimin takes his hand again and asks, “How was it?”

“It’s too early to tell,” Taehyung replies. How was it, really? It’s not something that can be quantified, that can be explained so simply. It’s not something that has a definite indicator to judge and measure with. “But I think-”

He pauses, turning back to stare at the unassuming building once more, hiding in plain sight among a dozen little houses. “I think,” he continues, “I’ll come back again next week.”

Jimin’s answering smile is brighter than the sun, eyes sparkling crescents - Taehyung’s favourite sight in the entire world.

----

On Thursday afternoons, Jungkook starts hanging out at the café, eagerly badgering Taehyung with a billion questions about everything he does for work.

Jimin keeps scolding him from behind the counter, telling him not to bother Taehyung too much, not to disturb his work, but Taehyung stands up for the kid. “I don’t mind at all, actually,” he says with a smile, and Jimin looks so fond, it’s hard for Taehyung to not just go over there and kiss him senseless. Jungkook lets out a triumphant “yay!” and mock-glares at Jimin, says, “You’re not allowed to say anything anymore, Taehyungie hyung’s on my side.”

Jungkook is still in his final year of college, studying computer science (like Taehyung had done, once upon a time), and is currently stuck with the dilemma of whether to pursue dancing professionally or to pursue his knack for graphic design. As Taehyung shows him a few tricks on his graphic tablet, he finds out that this kid is a quick learner, remarkably intelligent beneath the surface of his child-like awe and wonder. The more Taehyung spends time with him, the more he realises how wrong all of his initial assumptions about Jungkook had been. Jungkook is more than just what he looks like on the outside, more than just the handsome, fit boy with a face that belongs on magazine covers. Jungkook is sweet and caring and a little too innocent, but not in a naive way, in an endlessly optimistic way. He’s hardworking and talented and surprisingly perceptive, always picking up on the little things, always listening, learning. More importantly, though, Jungkook is earnest, pouring his entire heart in everything he does.

It makes Taehyung think - about physical appearances, about first impressions. Taehyung is used to being reduced to just his body; is used to how the swell of his cheeks, the curve of his belly, the flab in his thighs, are overanalysed before anyone can form an opinion about him, Kim Taehyung the human being.  He still remembers his early days in the gay dating scene, already limited and covert in a country like South Korea, but worse, when he realised how everyone was meant to look only a certain way, how everyone desired only a certain type of person. He could check neither of the boxes, couldn’t be the small, lean, petite one; couldn’t be the tough, athletic, muscular one. He has always been an anomaly, never fitting in, never considered more than what he looks like on the outside.

And subconsciously or not, he’s judged Jungkook with the same parameters, has put him in the same spot, even though the context here has been the very opposite. He too overanalysed Jungkook’s appearance before he could get to know Jeon Jungkook the human being, he too decided that Jungkook was in a league separate from his just because of what he looks like.

Taehyung regrets it from the bottom of his heart, especially now, when Jungkook is opening up to him, when he’s realising how much they have in common. He’d been so unfair to this boy on that first night, and he’s been trying to make amends ever since.

Taehyung is trying be a good hyung to him - not just helping him with his graphic design projects (and general life advice), but buying him dinner after both him and Jimin get done with dance practice, taking him out to noraebangs on the weekends, inviting him over for video games every time he complains about his college workload. Yeah, maybe Taehyung’s overcompensating, but it’s worth it, when Jungkook smiles his big bunny smile and says, “thank you, hyung,” with all the adoration in the world. It’s worth it, when Jimin kisses him thorough and deep, and says, “Jungkookie looks up to you a lot, you know? I’m glad he has a role model like you - someone so brave.”

Taehyung doubts he’s a good role model, doubts he’s as brave as Jimin thinks he is; but there’s something about being considered a positive example that loosens the burden he carries around all the time. The prospect of being looked up to would have scared him earlier, would have made him feel even more unsure of his worth, but now - with Namjoon's help, with Jimin's shining, effervescent love, with his own steadily growing willpower - it makes him want to work harder. It makes him want to be an even better hyung, an even better person. It makes him want to nurture Jungkook in the way he wishes he was nurtured when he was younger.

There is something changing, and it isn't going unnoticed.

“I see you and Gguk-ah are getting close,” Yoongi, as always is the first to comment on it, always the one to not mince words, to state his observations in the most straightforward way possible.

(Yoongi was the one who hugged him hardest after Taehyung told them about his body dysmorphia, he was the one who told him, “I’ve got your back, Tae-ah.”)

They’re at the grocery store, picking out snacks and beverages from the aisles. It’s movie night at Yoongi and Hoseok’s, and Yoongi has enlisted Taehyung’s help for acquiring the food. Jimin and Hoseok and Jungkook were still at dance practice when Yoongi had collected Taehyung from his usual spot at the café and ushered them into this cheap 24 hours grocery store two kilometres from his apartment, and Taehyung had gladly complied, happy to spend any extra quality time with his own favourite hyung, with his role model. They've all been busy in the past couple of months - Yoongi and Hoseok with their new foster-dog, Jungkook with college, Jimin with his new choreography, and Taehyung, with his attempts to get back on his feet - and tonight is the first time since Taehyung's apology-dinner-treat the whole gang will be getting together at the same place and time. Taehyung is genuinely excited, and is currently going a bit overboard cramming as many deep fried snack packets onto their cart as possible.

(He'd been toying with the idea of starting on a diet, but Namjoon says he's not ready yet. Namjoon says he first needs to get to know his body better, needs to get to know what it needs and what it doesn't need. Taehyung couldn't agree more, is content to indulge in the occasional deep-fried snacks till then.)

Taehyung smiles at Yoongi's words, a stark contrast to what it used to be like, earlier. He no longer feels put on the spot by Yoongi's always brutally honest observations. This time, it's almost refreshing. He can talk about this - at least a little. Baby steps.

"Yeah," Taehyung replies, picking up a few cans of coke to drop them in the cart, “Jungkookie’s a good kid.”

Yoongi snorts, “You say ‘kid’ like you’re not one yourself.”

“Yah, hyung!" Taehyung takes playful offense. "Stop pretending you’re ancient when you’re only two years older than me!”

Yoongi snorts again, but returns to the initial point, “No seriously, I’ve never seen you warm up to someone so quickly - barring Jimin, of course. It's good.”

And that, that makes Taehyung stop short. Has he...really not? Has he really been so caught up in feeling sorry for himself, has kept himself and his heart so actively locked up that he hasn’t let himself warm up to...anyone? He knows he’s been holding back - he’s already realised this earlier - and on a practical level, he knows that he has subconsciously done this out of a feeling of deep inadequacy, out of a fear of abandonment. But to hear Yoongi say it so plainly, to have him be surprised at the fact that Taehyung has the capacity to warm up to someone easily. It's a difficult realisation.

He thinks about what Namjoon had said to him in one of their sessions. You'd be surprised to know, Taehyung-sshi, you're often not alone in what you're experiencing. The person on the other end is often as uncertain as you are. They may be eager to know you, but they're also scared of making a misstep, just as you are.

Maybe that’s why he formed such a fundamental connection to Jungkook. Jungkook has never been scared to express his vulnerabilities, has never been scared to communicate the fact that he's been uncertain about whether or not Taehyung would like him, too. Deep down, he too questions his place in the world like Taehyung does.

And if he has to step out of his shell, has to learn to let people in, he's glad Jungkook is the place to start. He's glad it's someone who he can see a bit of himself in.

“He’s nice, hyung,” Taehyung replies with complete honesty, “And I’m trying out this thing where I’m letting people be nice to me without questioning it. It’s still a work in progress, but I'm getting there.”

Yoongi turns around to face him with his piercing sharp eyes, the very ones that never fail to look right through Taehyung. But there's a hint of moisture at their edges, signs of softness all over, “Really?” There's weight in the question.

This is Yoongi, after all. Yoongi, who's always looked out for him, who's done so much for him without him ever having to ask for anything. Yoongi, who’s got his back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies, bashful. He has to look away to avoid the wetness in his own eyes.

But Yoongi beams then, gums on full display - so radiant and open that it takes Taehyung  entirely by surprise. Then, in an even more unexpected gesture, he barrels into Taehyung, enveloping him into the tightest, cosiest hug. Yoongi's right hand reaches up to ruffle Taehyung’s hair too, for good measure. Yoongi doesn’t easily initiate skinship at all, at least not with his dongsaengs, and this moment is beyond special, Taehyung will cherish it forever.

“I’m so proud of you, Taehyung-ah,” he says, and his voice sounds huskier than usual, wrought with emotion. He's still smiling though, which is weird, but that's how Yoongi is. He's always experiencing multiple emotions at the same time.

“Thank you, hyung,” Taehyung replies, but the words are muffled in Yoongi’s embrace.

It's a paltry way of summing up just how much gratitude he feels in this moment, but Taehyung doesn't know what else to say, he's so touched he's almost incoherent. He looks up to Yoongi so much, and it feels undeniably good to be told he’s making his favourite hyung proud.

And Namjoon was right. Maybe the person on the other end isn’t always certain. Maybe the person on the other end needs to be actively told they're loved in return.

"No, really, thank you," he says, extricating himself from Yoongi's embrace. "Thank you for always being so patient with me, even when I've made it difficult for you to be."

"Oh, Tae-ah," Yoongi says, in a gentle, awe-struck voice, "You’ve been through a lot, it’s okay. You don't have to thank me."

"I know, but I want to."

Yoongi smiles again, beautiful and gummy, though Taehyung can still see the unshed tears in the horizon of his lashes. Taehyung smiles back, and throws another can of coke into the shopping cart.

"Now come on," Taehyung finally says, "Let's finish buying the party food before both our boyfriends start wondering why we're late."

---

“Jiminie?” he calls out as soon as they enter Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment, dropping the bags of groceries on the dining table of their living room. From the three pairs of discarded shoes lying near the door, it’s evident that Jimin, Hoseok and Jungkook are back from dance practice, and Taehyung is a little impatient to see his boyfriend. He knows it’s sappy, but he hasn’t seen Jimin in five hours, and well, that’s a long time.

“Jiminie?” he calls out again, and Yoongi rolls his eyes at Taehyung while he settles on the living room couch to take off his cat-patterned socks. "Relax, Tae-ah, he's around here somewhere."

Taehyung ignores Yoongi, and walks past the kitchen towards the bedroom. He can hear the telltale sounds of high-pitched giggling, of little pleased noises followed by Hoseok's loud, nasal voice. Taehyung smiles before he rounds the corner, before he appears at the bedroom door and finally spots him - no, them.

Jimin is still wearing his dance tights, the very ones that make his legs look extra long and gorgeous. His hoodie is a few sizes larger than him - actually, Taehyung is sure that the hoodie is his - and it envelopes Jimin, making him look infinitely adorable. But that's not why Taehyung stops short, why he nearly forgets to breathe before he can even cross the room.

Jimin is sprawled on the floor, his legs crossed together, and on his lap is the tiniest, fluffiest ball of fur Taehyung has ever seen. Jimin brings his face close to the puppy's, places a tender kiss on its snout. The puppy whines in satisfaction and attempts to lick Jimin's nose. Jimin giggles - high-pitched, magnificent, deliriously happy.

Hoseok and Jungkook are in the room too - the former playfully chastising Jimin for spoiling the dog with too much affection, and the latter squealing and cooing, smiling wide, clicking pictures of Jimin and the puppy on his phone. But Taehyung hardly registers their presence. Everything else in this moment seems to melt away - his sense of physical space, his sense of physical form - everything apart from only these two individuals; everything apart from the spotlight shining above the two of them, illuminating the two of them. Jimin’s supple, delighted laughter, the puppy’s cute, squeaky barking.

Taehyung feels-

He feels.

That sensation of slow, silting change, returns. Namjoon had said, sometimes you find joy in unexpected things, don’t shut yourself to the world, Taehyung. And he can see it now, right in front of him.

He doesn't know why he's so affected, but he is. It’s nothing really, just Jimin playing with a puppy. And yet, it feels like everything. It feels big.

"Oh yes, I forgot." Yoongi has appeared behind him in the doorway without him noticing. "You haven't met Yeontanie yet . That's the little spawn of satan we've been taking care of for the past few months."

As if on cue, the dog jumps up to paw at Jimin's cheeks. Jungkook claps in delight, squeals, "what a smart boy!"

The warmth in Jimin’s giggle could melt the polar icecaps.

"Yoongi hyung, Taehyung-ah!" Hoseok notices them then, "You guys took a while!" He bounds over to swing an arm around each of them, pulling them both inside. Yoongi chuckles, kisses Hoseok’s cheek. "Look! Tan-ah can’t get enough of our Jiminie!"

Yeontan licks Jimin's nose again. "Yah!" Jungkook whines, "Tan-ah likes me too!"

"But you're not the one whose lap he’s refusing to get off of." Jimin retorts - as always, never letting go of an opportunity to pull Jungkook's leg. But he's not really looking at Jungkook; his eyes are focused squarely on Taehyung, his smile so incandescent that Taehyung will never get used to the effect it has on him, always illuminating the darkest corners of his soul, bringing him back to life. Relatable, he thinks, It’s hard to let go of Jimin once you’re in his arms.

"C'mere, you," Jimin gestures to Taehyung, "Give me a kiss."

And how could Taehyung ever refuse a request like that? He smiles his widest, boxiest smile and crawls over to Jimin at last, leaning down to capture Jimin's mouth in a fervent kiss, full of every single overpowering emotion he feels at the moment. Hoseok coos, while Jungkook pretends to fake-gag, says, "Get a room, hyungs!"

Yeontan has sensed the presence of someone new, has sensed that his new favourite person's attention is now divided. He whines impatiently, scratches at Jimin's hoodie while Jimin's mouth is busy devouring Taehyung's. Jimin giggles into the kiss, separates, before placing a final chaste peck on Taehyung’s nose.

"Guess someone else wants a kiss from you too, Taehyungie."

Taehyung laughs at that, looking down at the ball of fur on Jimin's lap. Yeontan has gone a little quiet, though his tail is vigorously wagging away, little whines and grunts escaping him now and then. He regards Taehyung in relative silence, cocking his head to the side in the cutest possible way as if to carefully assess Taehyung.

Taehyung is impossibly endeared, but also, strangely nervous. Of course, this is nothing like getting assessed by a human stranger - an assessment he's often used to, an assessment that barely yields something positive - but sometimes, dogs are even more perceptive, even more adept at sniffing out the weeds among flowers. There's a reason Yeontan so easily gravitated to Jimin, Jimin radiates everything good, everything worthy of being adored and loved.

But what would he make of Taehyung?

(He had a dog once, long ago, when he was ten. They played and played in the garden, especially in summers, when the weather was nice and the irises were blooming bright purple, and his mother turning over the soil in their vegetable patch, looking over at Taehyung and his beautiful corgi with a gentle smile. Two years later, Chopa passed away from an incurable bone disease, and Taehyung felt like he could never feel alive again, he could never go out and run around in the grass again. If he had to recall exactly when it was that any kind of physical activity started seeming catastrophic to him, this is what would stand out. After Chopa, he’s never been able to do anything with his body. After Chopa, he’s never really felt like his body was worth doing anything with.)

And Taehyung is nervous. Taehyung kind of desperately wants Yeontan to like him too.

Yeontan barks, tiny but daunting, and Taehyung extends a hesitant finger, strokes the top of his head. Something about that must appeal to the puppy, because Yeontan immediately leans into the touch, lets out a pleased whine. Then, without a single inch of prompting, he crawls out of Jimin's lap and walks straight into Taehyung's arms, attempting to reach up and lick Taehyung's face.

"Oh my god, hyung!" Jungkook squeals in the background, "He likes you too!"

He likes Taehyung too.

Hoseok and Yoongi laugh in unison. "Yeah, Taehyung-ah," Yoongi says, "It seems like Tan-ah has found his kin."

Yeontan wags his tail harder and lets out another little bark. He cuddles closer to Taehyung, presses his tiny snout right into Taehyung's other palm, as if demanding more pats.

Taehyung sucks in a precarious breath, overwhelmed for no reason, feeling so silly for suddenly getting emotional over this. He doesn't know why, but he looks at Jimin then. It's almost an impulse, a subconscious search for...reassurance. Validation, that he’s doing this right.

Jimin looks so beautiful - he always does, but in this moment, he seems all the more radiant, smiling large and sweet. His eyes are shining up at Taehyung, seemingly nudging him towards happiness. Seemingly telling him, its okay, you can have this. We can have this.

And he thinks about what he said to Yoongi earlier. I’m trying out this thing where I’m letting people be nice to me without questioning it.

And this too, is something he doesn’t have to question. He is allowed to have Yeontan in his arms, Jimin by his side. He is allowed to have nice things.

Jungkook is smiling at Taehyung and Yeontan like they're the best things in the entire universe, is clicking pictures like he wants to immortalise every single aspect of the both of them together; and Hoseok and Yoongi, his brilliant hyungs, so caring and wonderful, are indulging him. Are saying, “Wow, Yeontanie is never this good to us.”

Taehyung exhales. He leans down to place a delicate kiss on Yeontan's head while continuing to stroke his smooth, shiny fur, letting those sweet tiny barks fill up his entire system, unleashing every last dreg of love he’d kept buried in his soul.

And Taehyung can picture it. Running around with Yeontan in the summer - their current house in Seoul doesn't have a garden, but the public park is a five minutes walk from their apartment, perfect for early evening games of catch. He can see it - Jimin, spoiling Yeontan with endless kisses and cuddles (like he does with Taehyung); Jimin, waking up early to make breakfast for Yeontan alongside breakfast for Taehyung. Yeontan, curled up at their feet in bed.

He can picture it so clearly; his body being useful again. Running, with Yeontan. Dancing, with Jimin.

A life. With Jimin, With Yeontan.

Jimin's hand joins Taehyung's on Yeontan's fur, stroking him so slow and gentle, scratching at the back of his ear. "Hey," he whispers to Taehyung, dropping his voice by an octave so the others can't hear, "Hoseokie hyung and Yoongi hyung haven't found a permanent owner for Tanie yet, you know?"

And of course. Jimin can read him like an open book. Jimin can always tell what he's thinking.

Taehyung smiles, matching Jimin's radiant one with his own.  "I know," he says.

---

And perhaps, it happens a little too quickly.

Perhaps, after they're done with dinner and the movie that night, after Yeontan has spent the entire night shuffling between Jimin and Taehyung's laps, Taehyung turns to Yoongi and asks, "How soon can we adopt him?"

And perhaps, Yoongi and Hoseok both flash him matching satisfied smiles and reply, “Whenever you want, Tae-ah.”

Perhaps, Yeontan moves in with them the very same week.

Perhaps, Yeontan adjusts remarkably well for a dog who's been changing environments for the past few months. Perhaps, he becomes so singularly enmeshed in Jimin and Taehyung's lives that it feels like he's always been there, always been a part of their family.

Perhaps, Jimin and Taehyung take him out on long walks twice a day; perhaps, Taehyung teaches Yeontan a few tricks, makes him fetch a frisbee and runs after him.

Perhaps, running isn’t so scary anymore - his limbs, his thighs don’t feel like a separate part of him when he’s immersed in running after Yeontan, the bigness of his body doesn’t feel like an alien entity. It feels his. It feels okay.

It feels like it has some worth.

Perhaps, he brings Yeontan along to Namjoon’s clinic one day and Namjoon and Seokjin both beam with honest delight, both of them doting on the little puppy, who accepts the attention eagerly.

“I think you’re doing a lot better from before, Taehyung,” Namjoon says later, and for the first time ever, Taehyung is close to believing it.

Perhaps, one night Jimin casually calls Yeontan their 'son' and it makes Taehyung's heart throb in his chest, it makes him feel a sense of contentment that threatens to spill everywhere.

Perhaps, it happens a little too quickly: Yeontan becoming a permanent fixture in their shared existence.

But nothing has ever felt so right.

---

“Come on now, Taehyungie, hand on my shoulder, not waist.” Jimin is saying patiently, “I’m the one leading, so it’s my hand that’ll be on your waist.”

“Okay, got it,” Taehyung says, and attempts to comply, but he’s already making a mess of this. They’re already a beat behind from the other dancing couples, already off-rhythm from the one-two-three two-two-three count Hoseok and Jungkook are demonstrating from the front of the ballroom.

As he’d expected, Jimin and him are the only other gay couple in the ballroom dancing class - the others all belonging to a much older, much more heterosexual demographic. But fortunately, people are letting them be, not really bothered by what they are doing. On the one hand, it’s a relief, no one has to see him make such a big fool of himself. On the other hand, Jimin is seeing him make a fool of himself, and that’s enough to make him undeniably self-conscious.

What was he thinking? Of course he was going to be terrible at waltzing. He has no sense of coordination, no sense of what to do with his big cumbersome feet. He’s been faltering and stepping on Jimin’s toes from the minute they began.

But Jimin is so patient, guiding his body left and right, not even flinching every time his feet get stepped on. He deserves a sainthood for dealing with Taehyung's disastrous attempts at moving his body without losing his cool.

Hoseok and Jungkook are patient too, they keep coming over to fix his faulty movements, they keep giving him simple and lucid instructions. Yoongi’s there too, but he’s away from the dance floor, sitting at the back tapping away at his laptop, writing something for work. He occasionally looks up to watch Hoseok in action with a soft smile or to wave at Taehyung and Jimin; and Taehyung almost feels a little jealous. He’d much rather be sitting there beside him and watching, rather than performing.

It’s not the physical activity, per se. Or maybe, it is. Having Yeontan has been good, walking him everyday, playing and running with him everyday are good. He’s slowly getting over his fear of it, slowly starting to enjoy the exercise, has sometimes even joined Jimin for his midnight workouts. He’s even toying with the idea of going back to the gym, though he feels like he’s still not ready for that big a step.

And yet, here he is, at the ballroom dancing class that means so much to Jimin, feeling like he’s back to square one. Feeling like his limbs can’t move right, like his body is again, too sluggish, too ungainly. It’s just a simple rhythm, so why can’t he keep pace with it?

“I know what you’re thinking, so stop.” Jimin says as Taehyung gets even further behind from Hoseok and Jungkook’s one-two-three count, grips Taehyung tighter to keep him from tripping once again, “It’s okay to not be flawless, this is just your first time, babe!”

“But I’m slowing you down,” Taehyung grumbles, avoiding eye contact. “You really should have picked a better partner. I’m sorry.”

“God, Taehyung,” Jimin’s brows furrow, “I thought we were stopping with the unnecessary apologies.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung mumbles again, ears red. Jimin gives him a look that says Taehyung is being deliberately oblivious. But what can Taehyung do,  really? Apologising for his existence is his default state of being - especially now, when the apology is a necessity.

Taehyung looks down again, stares at his massive, uncoordinated feet that he doesn’t know what to do with. Somewhere behind them, Hoseok is giving out some more instructions in his serious but oddly calming voice, but yet again, Taehyung is too slow, too inept to follow them.

“Hey,” Jimin whispers, sensing the shift in Taehyung’s body language, sensing Taehyung’s cautiously mustered optimism fading away. He is reading him, once again, like an open book.

“Hey, look at me.” Jimin halts unceremoniously, causing both of them to come to a stop in the very middle of the room. From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Jungkook about to make his  way towards them to say something - probably to ask them why they stopped - but Hoseok holds out a hand to stop him. Hoseok can tell that Jimin and Taehyung need a moment.

Taehyung sighs dejectedly.

Jimin has that determined look on his face again, the one he gets whenever Taehyung self-flagellates, the one he gets when he wants to make sure Taehyung isn’t falling back into an abyss of self-loathing. “I know it’s hard to shut down your big, sexy brain, Taehyungie,” he says, “But the thing about dance is, you have to let go.”

“The thing about dance is,” Jimin’s face is inches away from his, looking terribly earnest, “You have to not think so much. You have to close your eyes and give in to the music, you have to let your body follow its instincts.”

It’s always inexplicably difficult for Taehyung to do just this, to give in and not think. To let his body follow its natural instincts. But then-

Don’t shut yourself to the world, Taehyung,   Namjoon had once told him. Taehyung thinks about the last few months, and how, in big ways or small, he has put this very thing into practice. Thinks about how he has attempted to open himself up to new things; thinks about his growing bond with Jungkook, about Yoongi, who is so proud of him, about Namjoon, with whom he is sharing more and more parts of himself, thinks about Yeontan and the new lease of life he’s given Taehyung. And every single one of these things have filled him with joy, with hope, with comfort.

All he’d had to do was stop thinking so much, and these things happened. These things in his life which embraced him so completely without him ever imagining this was possible.

Maybe Jimin is right. This doesn’t have to be so hard.

He can let himself breathe, let himself embrace yet another thing.

“Okay,” he says. “Sor-” but Jimin silences him with a look before he can complete his apology. It makes Taehyung smile. Guess this is one thing he’ll have to work harder to get used to. “Okay,” he says again.

Jimin smiles back, holds him tighter, tiptoes up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Listen to the music, okay? You’ll know what to do.”

The music is actually kind of beautiful - a piano piece that Taehyung recognises from Yoongi’s extensive record collection - it’s perfect for a waltz. It’s lilting, deceptively simple but containing so many layers within it. It speaks of longing, desire, of a love that’s trying to reach fruition. Taehyung does feel it, feels what it can convey.

He looks into Jimin’s eyes and suddenly, he knows what he has to do.

Without giving Jimin much of a preamble, he places a hand on his shoulder and begins to sway. Jimin is quick to pick up - his much-honed dancer’s instincts kicking into gear - and soon enough, they’re back into the rhythm, keeping up pace with the other dancers, moving swiftly and gracefully.

It’s surprisingly easy, once Taehyung truly immerses himself into it. His feet and hands catch on to the rhythm and he feels confident enough to Jimin spin him around, to move in tandem with Jimin’s perfect, taut body. Jimin grins with unrestrained glee and wonder.

Taehyung almost can’t believe it. He’s always found Jimin so untouchable when he dances, so beyond Taehyung’s mortal plane, but now - he’s actually keeping pace with Jimin’s impeccable, fluid movements, he’s finding that he’s actually not bad at this himself. Once he stops overthinking what to do with his arms and legs, he actually doesn’t have much trouble at all matching up with the length and breadth of Jimin’s moves.

Hoseok is smiling at them, and though he can’t see Yoongi’s face, Taehyung can tell Yoongi is smiling at them too. Jungkook on the other hand can’t seem to control his excitement. “Go, hyungs!” he’s cheering from the end of the room - Taehyung is pretty sure that’s deeply unprofessional of him (not to mention, a blatant show of favouritism), but he can’t help but be endeared all over again, can’t help but bask in the adoration.

He feels like he’s finally Jimin’s equal, equal in love, equal in form, equal in movement.

“Why is this really important to you, Jimin-ah?” he asks the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue from the minute Jimin had broached the subject of ballroom dancing.

“Oh,” Jimin is blushing, and Taehyung is all the more curious. “It’s really nothing. Like I’d said, it’s just something I wanted to do with you. I thought it might help you feel better, because I know dancing often helps body image-”

“No, Jiminie,” he interrupts, “Why is this important to you? I appreciate you thinking about me, but I know that’s not the only reason why you wanted to do this with me.”

There’s a pause, in which he spins Jimin again and they do a fancy swoop Hoseok and Jungkook had demonstrated earlier. When they’re back in position, Jimin bites his lip, seemingly nervous.

In a minute, Hoseok stops the music, calls for a break, and the couples disperse. Taehyung thinks it’s too late now, maybe the opportunity is lost, maybe he made Jimin uncomfortable, and he shouldn’t have asked. “Hey, you don’t have to answer, we can just-”

“It’s stupid,” Jimin finally says, dropping his head on Taehyung’s shoulder to hide (like he always does when he’s slightly embarrassed).

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

Taehyung smiles. “I promise.”

“When I first saw you - way back, when you first walked into the café all drenched from the rain, looking for a place to charge your phone - my first thought was, wow, this boy is breathtaking.”

Taehyung blushes a furious red. He remembers that day - he’d been on his way back from a client meeting when it started pouring, and he’d stuck for hours, trying to find a cab home. Ultimately, his phone had died and he ducked into the nearest café he could find - the one café in Seoul with the most beautiful barista behind the counter, the very same barista who offered him a free matcha and honey drink and had later found him a towel so he could dry himself off. Though it won’t be until several weeks after that day that Jimin would actually ask him out, Taehyung thinks he fell in love with Jimin right then.

And apparently, Jimin did too.

“And, having the one-track-mind that I have,” Jimin continues, “My next thought was: I want to take this boy dancing. You see, dancing is not just important to me, but it’s also how I express myself. It’s how I share my feelings with the world, and it’s how I wanted to share my feelings with you. I wanted to dance with you because I wanted to show you how you make me feel. And I know its so stupid.”

“It’s not,” Taehyung whispers, suddenly a little choked up. “You should have asked earlier.”

“I wanted to!” Jimin bites his lip again, “But I was worried you’d say no. You didn’t really like dancing even when we were at a club, and that was okay! I didn’t mind. For a long time, I thought maybe it’s just a personal preference and I made my peace with it. But then you told me about your dysmorphia and I realised... maybe that’s w hat was stopping you, not the fact that you don’t dance or don’t want to dance with me. So, I thought?”

“So you thought you’d ask me now.”

“Yeah.” Jimin is still hiding his face in Taehyung’s neck, but Taehyung can still sense his blush.

Taehyung gets it now, what Jimin had meant when he’d said, i’m not perfect, all those months ago when Taehyung was having his meltdown on the bathroom floor. Of course Jimin is perfect, he can never be anything less; but sometimes Taehyung puts Jimin so high up in the pedestal of his mind, he forgets that Jimin has his self-doubts too. During the entire time Taehyung was putting himself through misery and not communicating his problems to Jimin, Jimin was wracked with insecurity too.

Taehyung’s previous realisation was right, they are equals. Taehyung just regrets not having this realisation earlier.

But they’re here now, doing this together.

“Park Jimin,” he says, bringing a hand to gently remove Jimin’s head from his shoulder so he can look at blush colouring his boyfriend’s perfect face, “Park Jimin, I’m desperately in love with you. Will you dance with me?”

Jimin’s answering smile is beyond imagination, so bright and powerful that Taehyung is constantly amazed that this is even real. But it is, it is real.

Taehyung is acknowledging his body, the curves and edges of it that previously felt wrong, the bulges and swells of it that he earlier couldn’t look at, and it’s not terrifying. He’s here, and he feels his body and he feels his limbs. The parts move, they function. They can dance, can step in perfect synchronisation with Jimin. They’re here, and they’re worth something.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jimin says, and shifts closer into Taehyung’s embrace, positions both their hands back in that of a waltz.

The class is still on it’s break - most of the other couples lounging and talking to each other outside the ballroom, and Jungkook and Hoseok and Yoongi on the other end, whispering in a huddle - giving Jimin and Taehyung their space.

There’s no music playing. But right now, they don’t need it. Right now, Jimin and Taehyung need nothing but each other.

They look into each other’s eyes, and they move.

----

There are a lot of familiar things about Monday mornings.

The gentle ding of the toaster, the whir of the coffee machine, the smell of jasmine growing on their windowsill awash in the first sprigs of sunlight.

“Mmm, Taehyungie?” Jimin rolls over on the bed but finds that the spot beside him is empty. That’s odd, Taehyung never wakes up so early, Taehyung’s not the morning person , he is.

But maybe that’s no longer true, as Jimin witnesses when he pads into the living room, stifling a yawn. Taehyung is milling about the kitchen, putting together ingredients for seaweed soup, Yeontan yipping away and obediently following him around. A pot is already boiling away on the stove.

The record-player they acquired from Yoongi last week sits in the living room, emanates a rich, jazz tune to which Taehyung is humming along in his incredibly sexy sleepwarm voice, dripping with honey and gold.

“Taetae?” Jimin murmurs, a little befuddled, and both Taehyung and Yeontan swiftly turn around to face him. The latter bounds over to hover around Jimin’s feet and bark at him contently and the former, turning off the stove and walking over to him with far more slowness, far more deliberation.

“Morning, love.” Taehyung says, and Jimin thinks he’ll never get over Taehyung’s morning voice - so fascinating, so raw, so completely maddening. He has half an urge to pull Taehyung back in bed, to replay the exploits of the previous night and devour him again from head to toe. Maybe he will, later, but not now. Now, Jimin is rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by the amount of sheer bliss he’s experiencing at the sight before him.

My sweet Taehyungie.

Taehyung leans in for a kiss, and it’s slow and thorough, just the way Jimin likes. “Morning,” Jimin breathes his reply into it, “You’re up early.”

Taehyung smiles, “Wanted to do something nice for you, baby. Wanted to make you breakfast.”

Jimin smiles back, his heart soaring. Every day, he feels like the luckiest man alive, to be surrounded by so much love. “Mmm, you’re so good to me, baby,” he moans against Taehyung’s mouth, not really willing to let go right now. Yeontan keeps yipping at their feet, but they can take him out for his regular morning stroll later. Right now, Jimin wants to remain suspended in time, wrapped around his perfect , sexy boyfriend.

Taehyung seems to be on the same page, because he curls both his arms around Jimin, rocks them back and forth. “You’re good to me too,” he says, “I love you.”

And the music plays, enveloping the room like a spell, like their own little bubble of heaven. Taehyung sways him left and right in some semblance of dancing - Jimin has noticed that he does this quite often lately, dances with him in the most unexpected of situations, and he’s so glad to see it. His Taehyungie, getting over his hesitations, bit by bit. His Taehyungie, taking such good care of him. His Taehyungie, dancing.

Jimin is in love with dance and he’s in love with Kim Taehyung. Most importantly, he’s in  love with this little bubble of heaven they have created together.

Maybe, there are some new additions to the familiar things about Monday mornings, and Jimin isn’t complaining.

---