Work Text:
Taehyung donates blood roughly three times a year and has done ever since he was able to.
That first time it was nothing more than a spontaneous good deed. Feeling pleasantly selfless afterwards, he made it a regular thing, pretty sure he was also paving the way to reap an eventual karmic reward. Once his father got into a nasty road accident and had a life-saving blood transfusion, however, it became more than that. A very important thing. Something he’d never skip out on.
Unfortunately, his manager doesn’t understand its significance to him, grumbling under her breath when he informs her he’ll be missing an hour of work on Monday morning because he has an appointment to give his regular blood donation. Taehyung is surprised. He never had issues at his previous place of work.
It’s her reaction, then, that makes him slip up, he supposes.
See, here’s the thing: Taehyung has never fainted after a donation before. He’s a regular donor and he knows how it works. He always takes ten minutes to load up on crackers and sugary snacks and drink a mugful of juice before he leaves the donation centre.
This time, though, he rushes it. First, it takes a while for him to get into the chair as they’re running behind schedule. Then, his blood flow is slow. He’s handed a wad of paper towels by the nurse and is told to squeeze down hard. Feeling anxious about getting into trouble with his manager for missing more time than he’d specified, he only sits down for around two minutes afterwards, scarfing down a couple of crackers and bypassing a drink altogether.
He figures he’ll be alright. After all, he’s donated many times before and has never had any issues afterwards. He doesn’t even feel lightheaded as he exits.
He’s on his way back to work when it happens. The street he’s on has a slight incline and he’s practically power-walking up it, weaving through clusters of tourists and pushing past other people in business-casual wear and in a rush to get someplace. The first thing that happens is he starts to feel light all over. Like his veins are full of delicate pockets of air. That his head is an emptying balloon. Black spots dot his vision and he slows to a stop.
Just take a break for a minute, he tells himself, placing his hand against the nearby wall and trying to regain his composure.
Just get back to work, he thinks, almost desperately now. You’re so close.
Next, he’s waking up on the floor, about five metres away from where he was standing. There’s a small crowd of around ten people standing above him and he blinks up at their unfamiliar faces, confused. One man has his phone to his ear and another is crouched at his side, asking Taehyung if he’s alright.
It comes back to Taehyung, then. He’d felt light-headed while walking back to work and he was taking a break. He must have fainted, he realises, and it’s a shock to him. He’d just… blacked out. Fallen to the floor, apparently. He imagines his body as a computer shutting down after someone’s ripped out the plug.
The man crouched at his side is still asking if Taehyung’s okay.
“I’m fine,” Taehyung says, and it’s a struggle. He takes a deep breath. Tries again. “I’m fine. I just- I just gave blood.”
The man at his side relaxes a bit, shoulders dropping down. The one on his phone hangs up and slides it into his pocket. Others begin to wander away.
The man at Taehyung’s side stays, pulling a bottle of water out of his bag and handing it to Taehyung. Taehyung watches him dazedly as he drinks the water in slow, steady gulps. The man is very pretty, Taehyung realises belatedly. His short, silver hair is tucked behind his ears, which are decorated with a procession of petite hoops and studs. His lips are plump, pink and slightly parted. Taehyung imagines them curving around the same bottle he’s drinking from right now and feels his cheeks heat up.
He’s still on the ground. Silver Hair has a hand on his shoulder, almost pinning him in place. Taehyung thinks about how he’s a good distance away from the wall he was leaning against.
“Did I try to move?” Taehyung asks, confused.
“You walked a few unsteady steps before you kind of... folded in half,” Silver Hair says, making a few vague gestures with his hands. “Right on your knees. Are they okay, by the way?”
Taehyung doesn’t feel like his knees are sore, but when he looks at them he sees two rips in his work slacks. Blood trickles from identical star-shaped wounds. He gapes, shocked. How could someone bust open their knees and have no idea?
He moves to stand up. Silver Hair winces slightly. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“I’m fine,” Taehyung insists. He feels like he’s been saying that a lot.
“Okay. Let’s go sit over here.” Silver Hair takes Taehyung by the arm and walks him over to a nearby bus stop where there’s a bench. He looks around briefly, his eyes landing on a convenience store on the other side of the street. “I’m going to go buy you a snack, okay? Just sit here and finish the water.”
Taehyung nods dreamily as he watches him go. He feels so tired all of a sudden, which he attributes to the handsome stranger having this sort of lullaby-soft voice that makes him feel boneless, barely-here. He blinks and sways a little before snapping out of it and focusing on draining the water from the bottle. Silver Hair reappears moments later, his arms full. He hands Taehyung a bag with a caramel shortcake in it.
“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I just got a mixture,” he tells Taehyung, holding up another bag. “This is a raisin scone, if you’d prefer that?”
Taehyung shakes his head and dutifully bites into the caramel shortcake. It’s good, oozing sticky caramel and blanketed with chocolate. Silver Hair watches him methodically devour the whole thing before handing him a fresh bottle of water.
“This has never happened to me before,” Taehyung admits sheepishly. “Kind of embarrassing.”
Silver Hair shrugs. He’s wearing a tailored black shirt tucked into black skinny jeans. On top of the shirt is an oversized red cardigan that looks so impossibly soft and fluffy Taehyung kind of wants to rub his face on it. “It happens.”
“I should get back to work,” Taehyung says. “I’ve already been gone for way longer than an hour.”
“You’re not going back to work,” Silver Hair tells him, shaking his head as if Taehyung’s just suggested something ridiculous. “You just passed out. You should go home and rest.”
“My manager-” Taehyung starts, trailing off when Silver Hair narrows his eyes at him.
He holds his hand out. “Unlock your phone and give it to me.”
Taehyung sighs but acquiesces, feeling too exhausted to argue.
Silver Hair scrolls through his contacts before holding the phone up to his ear. Taehyung just watches him. He’s moved onto the scone and is eating it crumb-by-crumb.
“Hello,” Silver Hair greets, grinning brilliantly even though the person on the other end can’t see him. “I’m with your employee, um-?”
Silver Hair looks at Taehyung questioningly and Taehyung realises he’s supposed to give him his name. “It’s Kim Taehyung.”
“Kim Taehyung-ssi,” Silver Hair finishes. “He just fainted on the street and- hmm. Yes, I think he’s okay. Just startled. And he should probably go home and rest for the rest of the day, so he won’t be coming in. Yes, that’s right. Great. Thanks so much for your time.”
Silver Hair hangs up and passes the phone back to Taehyung.
“My manager will just think I’m orchestrating some massively elaborate lie to get out of work,” Taehyung whines. “She already hates me.”
Silver Hair just laughs, delighted, and Taehyung briefly worries he’s hallucinating a chaos demon as a result of passing out.
“I’ll take you home,” Silver Hair says simply, still grinning.
Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m fine. I mean it.”
“Don’t be silly,” Silver Hair scolds him. “You just fainted. What if it happens again? You could really hurt yourself. You’re lucky you didn’t do more damage the first time.”
Taehyung pouts. “You’ve already done so much. Sitting with me. Buying me these snacks-”
“It’s okay.”
“Okay.” Taehyung’s heart balloons with gratitude. He feels like his faith in humanity has been restored, or something. “You don’t have to take me the whole way, though. Just to the tube station-”
“I’m taking you all the way home whether you like it or not,” Silver Hair tells him, widening his eyes for dramatic effect. He’s so cute that Taehyung doesn’t have it in him to protest.
They walk to the tube station with their arms linked as if they’re school friends. Taehyung still feels surprised by what happened, embarrassed even, for causing such a fuss. He silently promises himself never to hurry out of the donation centre again. Evil manager or no evil manager.
While they’re on the tube, Silver Hair takes off his backpack and conjures a mini first aid kit. He slips out of his seat at Taehyung’s side to squat on the floor, placing his hands on Taehyung’s thighs. Then, Taehyung watches as Silver Hair wordlessly cleans each of the cuts on his knees with an antiseptic wipe. Taehyung winces at the sharp sting of each swipe.
“They’re deep,” Silver Hair murmurs gently, eyes fixed on the cuts, “but not so deep you’ll need stitches.”
He carefully sticks a huge band aid over each one. “You might need to wear band aids for a few days. Replace them every so often, okay?”
Taehyung has a sudden thought. “Are you a doctor?”
Silver Hair beams up at him from where he’s still squatting on the floor. His eyes crinkle beautifully, the sun slicing through the carriage windows making him glitter as if he’s made of moonbeams. He shakes his head and the hoops in his ears chime like wine glasses clinking together. “I’m not a doctor, though I should be one day. I’m studying medicine.”
Taehyung nods and Silver Hair pats his thighs comfortingly before standing and returning to his seat. Taeyhung’s skin seems to burn from the warmth of his touch long after his hands have fluttered away. He presses his thighs together, wondering if the butterflies in his tummy are gathering as a result of the handsome stranger at his side or the very recent fainting.
The train comes to a shaky halt and Taehyung stands. “This is me. You really don’t have to-”
Silver Hair gets to his feet too, all mock-seriousness. “I’d be failing as a medical professional if I didn’t walk you to your door.”
“You’re not a medical professional,” Taehyung argues weakly, but Silver Hair is already following him onto the platform.
Once again, they walk with their arms intertwined. It doesn’t feel childish at all, though. In fact, Taehyung quite likes it. He leans against Silver Hair almost reflexively, the cloud-soft material of his cardigan tickling the skin of Taehyung’s cheek. “This thing is magical.”
Silver Hair hums. “The cardigan?”
“It’s so fluffy,” Taehyung mumbles sleepily. “Where’d you get it?”
Silver Hair wrinkles his nose. “I got it online ages ago. Think I ordered it when I was drunk, actually.”
Taehyung presses away from Silver Hair, a laugh escaping him in bursts. “I do that, too.”
“Drunk-online-shop?” Silver Hair grins slyly.
“I nearly drunk-bought a roomba the other night.”
“One of those little robot vacuum things?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, at least it would have been a practical purchase?”
“I guess. Better than drunk-buying sex toys, at least.” Taehyung doesn’t really know what he’s even saying. Words tumble out of him, bypassing all his supposed filters, needy to fill the silence.
Silver Hair laughs loudly. It’s started to drizzle and the spray beads on his clothes and in his hair, clinging to him like a mist of jewels.
“Yeah, I log on when I’m like, tipsy and chaotically horny,” Taehyung goes on, some quiet desperation to make Silver Hair laugh like that again clawing its way through him. “But I have no idea what any of them actually do, even after I’ve read the descriptions and the reviews. They all look so uniquely terrifying, you know? Either sci-fi monster purple or incomprehensibly spiky. I usually just end up closing the site, forgetting all about my yearning to be penetrated.”
Silver Hair laughs again, but it gets caught in his throat this time, morphing into a spluttery cough. Taehyung stares at him, mildly alarmed.
“Sorry,” Taehyung says hurriedly. “Just- ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Ha ha. I think I’m still light-headed.”
“You are?” Silver Hair looks serious now.
“I’m- No. I mean, I’m fine. I won’t faint again. Promise.” Taehyung realises they’re approaching his apartment complex and also, with something akin to panic, that he’s not quite ready to say goodbye. He points to his building. “This is, um, this is me.”
“Alright.” Silver Hair stops, standing still in the middle of the street. He looks up at Taehyung and his gaze is sort of electrifying. Taehyung sucks in a breath, suppressing a shiver. “Go in and go to sleep, okay?”
Taehyung nods tiredly. He wants to sleep. Really, he does. He also kind of wants to invite Silver Hair inside and cuddle with him for hours on end. Silver Hair reaches his hand out to tuck a runaway curl behind Taehyung’s ear and it’s almost… intimate, his fingertip lightly grazing the outside of Taehyung’s ear as he does it. Taehyung dithers a bit, wanting to lean into his touch. To lean into him, completely, and maybe doze on his shoulder a while. Possibly kiss him when he feels more alert and able. Eventually, though, the need to curl up in bed overcomes even his strongest impulses.
“Thank you,” Taehyung says, meaning it. “For taking care of me.”
Silver Hair nods. “Any time. I hope you feel better.”
Taehyung smiles. “Okay. Well, um, enjoy the rest of your day?”
“I will. Get some rest, yeah?”
Taehyung thanks him one last time and heads inside his building. He slowly peels off his work clothes and replaces them with an old, threadbare t-shirt and pyjama shorts. He moves like he’s trying to wade through a dollop of honey. Sluggish, as if he’s in a dream. Finally, he climbs into bed, pulling the blankets around him and trapping his extra pillow between his legs. For the first time since he fainted, his knees cry out in pain. Taehyung hiss-yelps and pulls the pillow close to his chest instead, wrapping his arms around it in an embrace.
Sleep sinks its claws into him quickly. His thoughts are like tendrils of water slipping down a drain. He tries to hang onto the images but they fragment and fade. Hair like starlight. Small, warm hands splayed on the tops of his thighs.
But the final, coherent thing Taehyung remembers thinking before he’s fully asleep is, I should have asked for his name.
-
It’s not until Taehyung wakes up, sweaty and disoriented, nearly sixteen hours later, that he realises he made a terrible, terrible mistake.
So, he does the only thing he can think of: he opens Twitter.
tae 🐯💭 @taeventures95
hey everyone. yesterday i fainted after my regular blood donation and a stranger took care of me and walked me home. i’d like to find him to say thank you properly! he’s a medical student, very pretty, with short, silver hair. twitter do your thing? 🙏🙇
Taehyung lets his phone drop to his pillow once he’s done. It’s still wholly dark outside when he goes to use the bathroom. He putters about the kitchen afterwards, downing some more water and eating a couple of slices of toast. He still feels groggy when he retreats to his bed. Checking his phone, he sees his tweet only has one like and one retweet. He scowls down at his notifications and considers just deleting it. Eventually, though, a few more retweets trickle in, so Taehyung lets it be. Just in case.
Painfully aware he’s probably never going to see Silver Hair ever again, he drifts off to sleep again.
-
The next time Taehyung wakes, it’s to his alarm. He sighs and stretches lethargically before silencing it, blinking down at the countless Twitter notifications blowing up his phone. His mouth falls open. He’s never seen anything like it before. With unsteady fingers, he unlocks his phone and starts scrolling through the replies and direct messages. The problem is that there are way too many - a stupid amount - and he has to get ready for work. Cursing under his breath, he rushes to the shower. He can’t afford to piss his manager off for the second day in a row.
He thinks she’ll care even less about his sort-of-viral tweet than she did his blood donation.
Once he’s at work, Taehyung bolts to his desk. He has a bunch of emails to catch up on and his notebook is still open by his keyboard, to-do list taunting him. He tries to concentrate, his legs jiggling under the desk, but all he can think of is that Silver Hair might be hiding somewhere in the hundred of messages he’s received. Discreetly, he pulls up his browser and begins scrolling through the messages.
Most of them are nonsense. There’s some weird spam and advertisements from bots. There are some people claiming to have helped him, crudely asking him just how much he’d like to properly thank them, but their display pictures and strange bios expose them as liars. Taehyung is about to give up, to delete his tweet and empty his inbox, when he spies him. His saviour beaming at him from the middle of a tiny circle, the display name reading Park Jimin. Taehyung clicks on the message so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t break his mouse.
Park Jimin @allpjms
hey. my friend linked me to your tweet when she saw it. i’d called her to tell her what happened right after i left. oh my gosh, taehyung. i can’t believe it went viral haha. you should have just asked me for my name and number. i would have given it to you, obviously? anyway. i hope you’re feeling better. and that you see this. 🙈 yeah. i really hope you see this.
Taehyung’s heart beats fast in his chest, his stomach turning somersaults. He reads the message three times over and then goes to Jimin’s profile, clicking on his display picture to enlarge it. It’s him, Taehyung thinks, covering his grin with his hand. How lucky. He clicks back to his direct messages and lets his fingers hover above the keyboard as he tries to come up with a reply.
“I hope you’re not on social media,” his manager says, appearing at his shoulder like a ghoul.
Taehyung jumps, flinging his hands over his screen to hide the browser window. “I was just- I was-”
“Try to do some work, okay?” His manager sighs as if his entire existence is an inconvenience to her. “Make up for yesterday.”
“I fainted yesterday,” Taehyung points out, annoyed. “On the street.”
“So you say,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she goes to sit down at her desk.
For a red-hot second, Taehyung feels like taking off his pants and showing her the cuts on his knees to prove it. Instead, he snaps that he’s going to get lunch and marches down the hallway and towards the elevator.
He ducks into a nearby cafe and gets a hot sandwich, some soup, and a coke. Once he’s seated, he opens the Twitter app on his phone. He clicks on Jimin’s message, murmuring his name out loud, testing how it feels in his mouth. Savouring the syllables like they’re a melty piece of cotton candy.
tae 🐯💭 @taeventures95
hi!!! 🥰
jimin! it’s actually you! i can’t believe it,,
so,, i feel like i need to repay you for yesterday
could i take you out for dinner maybe? 👉👈
if you’re free tonight, that is 👉👈
Park Jimin @allpjms
hi!
um
i was actually only in seoul visiting
i’m going back home today 🥺
tae 🐯💭 @taeventures95
oh?
where’s home?
maybe we can still meet up somehow??
Park Jimin @allpjms
uh
the states…
tae 🐯💭 @taeventures95
oh
ok
fffuck
Park Jimin @allpjms
i’m joking 😂
what time can i pick you up?? ☺️
tae 🐯💭 @taeventures95
JIMIN-
YOU-
Park Jimin @allpjms
what?
too mean?
tae 🐯💭 @taeventures95
asdfghjkl;
pick me up at 7??
Park Jimin @allpjms
sounds good, i’ll look forward to it 😘
-
After that first date, Jimin and Taehyung start seeing each other more regularly. Jimin meets Taehyung during his lunch breaks and they either grab some street food and walk around or have an impromptu picnic in the park. They go out to the movies and the theatre and to art galleries, Jimin’s hand snug in Taehyung’s back pocket as they wander around like lovestruck teens. They go out for drinks and meet each other’s friends, slotting into each other’s lives so easily. Like books on a shelf.
Some weekends, Taehyung just hangs out at Jimin’s place, curling up in a sun-drenched armchair to sketch and paint as Jimin studies at the kitchen table. Secretly, he comes to like these weekends best.
For their softness, their simpleness.
Everything is simple with Jimin.
-
Years later, Taehyung still has a scar on one of his knees.
It’s a wonky, pink, translucent thing, a result of fainting all those years ago.
If anyone asks him about it, though, he doesn’t tell them that.
He tells them, with a fond smile, that he got it while falling for Jimin.