Archive of Our Own ^beta

o o o

Prologue

3 years ago

“Hey, beautiful,” a carefully-studied seductive voice calls out from beside him. 

Taehyung resists the urge to roll his eyes at the worn-out words and plasters a fake smile on his lips as he turns to face the stranger sitting beside him. He’s not here to be picky, he reminds himself, he’s here because he wants to get laid and have someone help him forget about the struggles of his daily life for a short, blissful while. It doesn’t matter if the words don’t make him feel special, because one can’t expect much more from an overcrowded club. 

His smile becomes a little more genuine when he discovers the angelic face of the man who just accosted him. 

“Hey,” he answers lamely, because he doesn’t want to appear too interested. Seduction is a game, and Taehyung intends to win it one innocent look at a time. 

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing here?” the short man asks. 

This time, it’s the urge to snort loudly that Taehyung has to repress. The question doesn’t even make much sense, in the context of a gay club full of said pretty boys. One could even argue it’s their natural habitat. 

“Same as you, I imagine,” Taehyung answers carefully, nursing his alarmingly green cocktail. 

“I’m not sure about that,” the stranger says, pink tongue swiping over his plump bottom lip. It’s a technique as old as time itself, probably, but Taehyung lets himself fall for it anyway and follows the movement. 

“Look, why don’t we just drop the act?” Taehyung suggests abruptly, suddenly tired of this little mating dance people are so fond of. “You’re hot, I’m here to get laid. You up to showing me a good time?” 

The other man’s face falls comically, before a flash of anger mars his pretty features. Probably annoyed to see all his efforts go by unappreciated. 

“Maybe,” he says defensively. He looks up at Taehyung, seems to reconsider his next words. “Fancy getting your dick sucked in the alleyway?”

Taehyung nods, because who is he to deny this man’s wishes? He tries to convince himself that he is merely following his mother’s advice, when she hugged him tearfully and told him to have fun while studying in Seoul. Maybe this wasn’t quite what she had in mind, but it still applies. 

And that’s how he finds himself, five minutes later, pressed against the wall of dark backstreet. The blond man tastes of vodka, and Taehyung knows for a fact that those sinful lips are just as soft as they look. He can’t wait to have them on other parts of his body, but he isn’t about to complain about the feverish kisses they’re exchanging right now. 

Luckily, though, the handsome stranger seems as eager as him, practically ripping Taehyung’s cheap belt right off his body in his haste to unfasten it. He sucks one last hickey into Taehyung’s neck - a reminder he’ll regret tomorrow but secretly enjoys for now. The smirk he feels against his skin makes him think that maybe his loud moan was a little too obvious. 

He doesn’t have time to spare on his embarrassment because soon another hickey is blooming on the underside of his jaw, and then the blond man drops to his knees. Taehyung sinks his fingers in those dyed locks, gently guiding that hot mouth to his crotch where small hands are already stroking him. 

The moment that changes the course of Taehyung’s life happens very fast, and, not unlike most other life-altering situations, isn’t one that he understands at first. In fact, it appears quite insignificant. 

A sudden flash of blinding light, the sound of a camera shutter. 

Suddenly the kneeling stranger is getting up, cursing loudly and running in the direction of the offending photographer, who’s long since fled. Now, Taehyung isn’t too keen on having his photo taken while getting a blowjob either, but surely his partner’s reaction is a little over the top. 

In any case, the whole situation is weird, the blond angel doesn’t look like he’s coming back and Taehyung’s boner is quickly deflating, so he decides he might as well call it a night. Turns out he may as well have called it a life, since a new one was about to start for him the next morning. 

o o o

“Coming!” Taehyung yells in the general direction of the door, hoping to soothe whoever’s been consistently banging on it long enough for him to wash the paint off his fingers. The landlady made it clear that any additional stains to those on the sink would not be appreciated, last time she came down for a surprise inspection. 

“Kim Taehyung?” The man responsible for the noise says in lieu of greeting when Taehyung opens the door. He’s impeccably dressed and looks out of place in the small, rundown apartment. 

“Yes?” Taehyung answers uncertainly. “And you are?” 

The man steps into the flat, obviously not bothered by the fact that he was not invited to do so, and hands Taehyung his business card. Taehyung laughs, and the man gives him an annoyed glance that Taehyung has definitely already seen somewhere else. Yesterday in the club, actually. 

“You expect me to believe that you’re Park Bohyun? Of Park Enterprises?” he says incredulously. 

“Precisely,” the businessman retorts. “I believe you had… the pleasure of meeting my son yesterday.” 

Taehyung racks his brain. He’d spent most of the day locked inside the room his best friend and flatmate Jungkook had vacated for the holidays, working tirelessly on a painting he hopes will sell. He’d gone out around two because he’d run out of instant ramen, but hadn’t run into anyone who might be the heir of Park Entreprises, to his knowledge. 

“Perhaps this picture will refresh your memory,” the older man says, pulling out a folded photograph from his tweed trousers, and Taehyung definitely recognises it. The alleyway looks bright as day, his face easily recognisable and that of the man on his knees too, despite being pressed against his unclothed crotch. “It will be published in every rag tomorrow.” 

“I don’t understand,” is all Taehyung can manage, the thought of his parents ever coming across this too dreadful to even consider. 

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do to stop those awful reporters from releasing it.”

“I didn’t know,” that he was your son, is left unsaid. Suddenly Taehyung has a spark of lucidity. “Hang on, how did you find me here?” 

Park Bohyun snorts. 

“The heir of Park Entreprises can hardly walk around unprotected, boy.” 

“You mean you had someone follow me home? That’s creepy,” Taehyung states bluntly. 

“The ransom of riches.” 

“So you came to warn me? That’s… considerate, I guess.” 

“Not quite. I came to strike a deal with you.” The businessman takes a seat in Taehyung’s living room-slash-kitchen and gestures for his host to do the same. “Sit,” he orders. 

“A deal?” Taehyung prompts. 

“I want you to, how shall I put it, pretend to be in a committed, long-term relationship with my son.”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“I don’t expect you to fall in love - in fact, please don’t. You’d just have to occasionally appear at social functions together, and of course move in with him,” the man explains as if this was all perfectly normal. “So, will you?” 

“No!” Taehyung exclaims, “of course not.”

Park Bohyun looks at him coldly, like he’s a mere mouse standing in the way of his success. 

“And why not?” 

“Why? Uh,” Taehyung’s mind goes on overdrive, searching for all the reasons why this is utterly wrong. “Because it’s immoral! Unethical! I refuse to take part in this.” 

“I would think twice before declining this offer if I were you, young man,” the man warns coldly. 

“Well, you’re not,” Taehyung replies sassily. 

“Indeed, I’m not a untalented college dropout struggling to pay his rent and who fancies himself an artist. If I were, then I would grab this opportunity before it passed me by.” 

The words sting, but Taehyung can’t bring himself to deny them. He doesn’t bother asking how Park got this information, because Jungkook forced him to sit through too many spy movies to find it truly surprising. 

“What are you offering?” 

“Fame. Success. Riches. Anything you want, everything you can dream of. You want to become a recognised artist, right?” He clarifies, his icy gaze sweeping disdainfully across the colourful canvas hung around the room. “I’ll make it happen.” 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, too scared that he’ll sell his soul to the devil with his next words. He’s tempted, so tempted. 

“What’s in it for you?” 

“Few things are worse for Park Entreprises’ reputation than my son getting caught giving a back alley blowjob, except perhaps public knowledge that he and that man are virtual strangers instead of long-term boyfriends. At least this way I can play the LGBT card.”

It’s that argument that sways Taehyung. However immoral the request is, he persuades himself that he’s doing it for the queer community rather than himself. Raising awareness and all that.

“What do you want me to do?” 

“Stay by my son’s side for the next five years, and I’ll turn your career into an international success. Do we have a deal?” 

Taehyung extends his hand to shake that of his future fake boyfriend’s father, trying to shake off the feeling that he’s making a terrible mistake. 

o o o

Act I: Running

Present Day

Three years later, Taehyung still hasn’t managed to shake off that feeling. He knows the decision he made on that fateful day was one of the most important he’ll ever make, but he still isn’t sure if it was the right one. In fact, he has absolutely no clue. 

“Taehyung, your dog peed on my slippers. Again,” Jimin informs him as soon as he steps into their shared penthouse in the richest district of Seoul. His fiancé’s tone is even, indifferent. Taehyung knows better though, after three years of cohabitation. 

He goes into the kitchen to pour himself a beer, frowning down at the ball of brown and black fur that follows him there. Yeontan gives him an innocent look, but Taehyung isn’t fooled for a minute. Jimin doesn’t look away from his newspaper when the other man sits down opposite him in the lounge. 

“I know you only kept those slippers because they were a gift from your uncle’s new girlfriend. You should thank Tannie for giving you a good excuse to throw them out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin answers with the slightest indignation laced into his tone. It used to irk Taehyung so much, how the Parks spoke like nothing ever truly mattered. Now he does it too. 

“You hate orange.” 

Jimin huffs, annoyed, and lowers his newspaper to give Taehyung one of his infamous glares. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so sick of the colour if you didn’t insist on spreading it on each of your works. Can’t wait for you to grow out of your orange phase.” 

If he’s honest, Taehyung has kind of grown out of it already, but he’s not sure what to replace it with yet. Uncertainty is the fear of every artist, because it’s the opposite of inspiration. And lately, Taehyung has been feeling anything but inspired. 

Jimin’s words sting a little, but deep down he knows he deserves them. 

“I know you secretly love my dog,” Taehyung retorts, getting up from the comfortable designer armchair to go shower in the guest bedroom’s en-suite bathroom. His bathroom. 

It’s been a strange three years. Not everything about it has been bad, but not everything has been good either. Park Bohyun held true to his word, opening doors leading to fame that were previously closed to Taehyung with his considerable influence. He’s now an acclaimed abstract painter, having exhibited all around the world and sold more works than he can count for prices he’d never even envisioned. 

But now that he has it, he knows for certain: money doesn’t make happiness. At the back of his mind rests the unsettling knowledge that he doesn’t deserve any of it, the interviews, the praise, the unquestioned talent. 

Taehyung never used to question his talent, because the rest of the world did it for him. Now that everyone believes in him, he finds himself in a paradoxical state of doubt. He feels like an usurper. 

He is an usurper. 

The realisation slows his creative process and blocks his inspiration, even as his career  continues to bloom. His excitement for his latest project, a commission to paint an opera decor, isn’t enough to outweigh his lack of liveliness, of ideas and creative matter. 

Taehyung wills the warm water to wash away his worries, to give him back his former energy. It’s like this posh and emotionless life has sucked it out of him, suffocating him in a box that can’t possibly contain him and all his quirks. 

It won’t work, of course, so he steps out of the warm spray and wraps himself in the floral-patterned silk bathrobe Jimin had given him for their first fake anniversary. Taehyung suspects his fiancé chose what he thought to be the ugliest, but he can’t deny he’s grown fond of it now. 

In the kitchen, Jimin is busy chopping vegetables for their stir-fry. As the only decent cook out of the two of them, he has earned his right to impose his vegetarian diet on Taehyung (even if Taehyung does like to grumble about it on a weekly basis, to which Jimin invariably replies that he probably had dead animals for lunch and never fails to order some when they go out for dinner). Taehyung sets the table for two, and soon they’re both digging in. 

“How was your lunch date?” Jimin asks with his usual nonchalance. 

Taehyung chews, thinking. “Nice.” 

“Are you going to see him again?”

“Not sure.” 

Dating is difficult for them, despite their mutual understanding that this relationship is one in name only. It’s important that their secret stays safe and vital to keep away suspicions of faithlessness, which makes seeing other people difficult. Taehyung still tries, sometimes, hoping bringing a little spice to his dull life would liven his spirits. 

“Don’t forget that we’re having dinner with daddy dearest tomorrow.” 

Taehyung has never heard Jimin call his father anything other than that ridiculous nickname, and he’s grateful for it. Their mutual dislike for Park Bohyun is one of the few things the fiancés can bond on, and it’s a spark that’s revived once a month when they are forced to sit through dinner with him. It’s the older man’s way of assuring that they are both behaving according to his masterful plan. 

“Oh,” Taehyung pipes up, sipping on his beer nervously.  

Jimin sighs. 

“Please don’t tell me you forgot and scheduled something else instead.”

“Guilty as charged,” Taehyung admits.  

“Taehyung!” Jimin scolds, exasperated. “You did that last month and I managed to reschedule, but only because I swore it would be the last time.”

“But it’s a gallery opening! With some of my works!” the artist pleads. 

“Give the details to Beomgyu and see what he can sort out,” Jimin finally declares. Taehyung trusts his fiancé’s secretary, he’s an amazingly efficient man. 

“I’ll pick you up from your office at…” Taehyung starts, hoping to soothe Jimin. 

“Seven,” Jimin completes a tad harshly. 

This is what Taehyung’s life has become. Gone is the daily struggle for a decent salary, the shabby flat and effortless friendship with Jungkook. All of it has been replaced by harmless arguments with the man he unwillingly shares his life with, their interactions always familiar coldness because what else can you expect from domestic strangers? 

Gone, too, is the clumsy, drunk and flirtatious boy he first met. In his place is a clean-shaven man, the poster child of Park Enterprises: hard-working, serious and quiet, if a little petty at times (but no one needs to know that besides Taehyung). The two of them share a life and yet live them separately, both determined not to become friends because neither can trust the other, given the particular circumstances that gave birth to their mutually beneficial arrangement. 

It’s another story in the public eye, of course. In front of cameras, they don’t quite have to act like love birds - thankfully - because no one expects the honeymoon period to extend to the third year of a relationship. But they do have to make a show of holding hands, whisper in each other’s ears (snide remarks, mostly) and display support of one another. Sometimes Taehyung hates it, and sometimes he prefers to let himself drift in the illusion. 

And so each day blends into the next, an icy eternity Taehyung isn’t sure he wants to end or prolong. 

The next day is a different one, though. Unexpected. 

It starts out like every other friday, with Yeontan yapping angrily and sitting on his owner’s face because Jimin went into the office early to wrap up the week’s work and therefore didn’t feed the dog before he left, as he not-so-secretly usually does. The routine falls apart quickly, with a hurried phone call from the owner of the gallery whose opening he was supposed to attend later on in the day. Not quite a friend, but definitely someone Taehyung would class as more than an acquaintance. 

“I’d rather you didn’t show up tonight, Tae.” 

Taehyung hates it when people he hardly knows call him that. He can never quiet down the part of him that remembers they never would have done had he been Kim Taehyung the unknown artist and not Kim Taehyung the chaebol heir’s boyfriend. 

“And why not?” he questions, dumbfounded. 

There’s silence on the other end of the line, followed by hushed whispers, as if the man was asking his secretary or whoever had the misfortune of being around him to come up with a plausible excuse. 

“We feel you’ll attract too much attention if you’re there, which wouldn’t be good for lesser known artists also in attendance.” 

Ah, and here’s that ‘we’ of irresponsibility. 

“Sihyuk, you practically begged me to come precisely because it’ll bring more publicity to the event, I can’t not go. What about my paintings?” 

The silence stretches uncomfortably. 

“They’ve been taken off the list of works we’re exhibiting. I’m sure you understand.” 

“What? No, I most certainly don’t. Why would you do that? And at the last minute?” 

Taehyung rambles on and on, until he finally notices that Sihyuk ended the call. Coward. 

He decides not to dwell on this inconvenience, throwing himself into his monumental opera project instead. It’s for a rare production of arguably the first opera ever composed, Monteverdi’s Orfeo , to be given next year at the Seoul Arts Center. It tells the story of a man who literally goes to hell and back to retrieve his dead bride, only to have her ghost ripped away from him because he doesn’t trust her enough to follow him back up to the land of the living. It’s a strange myth, and Taehyung finds himself having to do a lot more research around it to be sure to grasp the essence of its many interpretations. 

He spends the afternoon with his nose buried in various books and articles, coming up for air just in time to see that he needs to leave to get Jimin within the next five minutes or he’ll definitely be late and have to suffer through his fiancé’s disappointed glare. 

To no avail, however, because Jimin looks disappointed even if he turns up at the entrance of the Park Enterprises headquarters dot on time. There are reporters around, which isn’t unusual per se, but they all look particularly excited today. 

“You haven’t looked at your phone in a few hours, have you?” he asks as he gets into Taehyung’s dark green vintage Jaguar - perk of being practically married to one of the soon-to-be richest men in Korea. 

“Nah,” Taehyung dismisses. “I forgot to charge it. Why? Did you text me?” 

“Change of plan. We’re going back home.” 

“What happened to dinner?” 

“My father is otherwise engaged,” Jimin replies, jaw tense and gaze unforgiving. No daddy dearest: Taehyung knows something is seriously off. 

The artist is concerned he’ll get a front seat display of the infamous Park temper if he insists on an explanation, so he just focuses on driving. Once they’re in their shared penthouse, Jimin goes straight to the liquor cabinet, pouring them both a shot of whiskey and downing his in a gulp without even bothering to take his shoes off - something he never tolerates in others. 

Taehyung takes advantage of his fiancé’s distraction to spare a glance at his recharged phone, and does a double take when he sees an email from the opera’s stage director. Dear Mr. Kim, it reads, We will no longer be requiring your services. We thank you for your work and wish you the best, etc. 

Taehyung feels his chest constricting uncomfortably. He doesn’t understand. 

“Taehyung? Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, just… tired,” Taehyung finishes lamely. It’s true, in a way. 

Jimin orders him to sit at their oakwood kitchen table and hands him his drink. Taehyung isn’t sure why he obviously thinks he’ll need the alcohol too, but goes along with it. Jimin takes a seat right next to him, sighing softly like he’d rather skip through this conversation. 

“Something happened at work, today,” he starts quietly. “Things are about to change for us. During the next few months, at least.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“My father, he… He was arrested. For fraud.” Taehyung frowns. He’s never seen Jimin look this distressed, nor did he think he ever would. Suddenly the other man grabs his wrist, demanding his full attention. “I swear, I didn’t know about this. I can’t say it surprises me, though. But until Park Enterprises is cleared of all suspicion, everything we own will be confiscated.” 

Taehyung understands why Jimin thought he might need a bit of liquid courage, now. 

“What if it isn’t?” 

“Then we lose it all. The companies, the fortune, the penthouse.”

“And how likely is that?” Taehyung whispers. 

Jimin looks defeated when he speaks up. 

“I don’t know. It depends if he mixed his own money up with the company’s or not. Regardless, this will probably have nasty consequences on your career too, with our reputation crumbling to dust. At least for the moment.” 

Taehyung doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he already knows. He puts his hand on Jimin’s shoulder in a rare gesture of support. 

“So things are gonna be a bit different for a while. It’s okay, Jimin.”

Jimin pulls himself together as fast as he fell apart, humming his acquiescence. 

“We need to be out of here by midday tomorrow, so I suggest we get packing.”

“Uh? And where are we gonna go?”

“Anywhere we can afford on the government’s measly allowance. Beomgyu said he was looking into renting us a small flat further out of town.” 

“I’ve also got some money put aside. They can’t get to it, can they?” 

“I hope not,” Jimin says with a sad smile. 

“Then there’s that too. Tell Beomgyu he can look for nicer flats?”

Jimin takes his hand, briefly. 

“Taehyung. You don’t owe me anything.” He goes on before his fiancé has a chance to protest. 

Taehyung has an illumination. 

“My studio. It has a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. We can move in there.” 

Jimin considers the offer. 

“You sure?” 

Taehyung nods, reassuring. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. He’s been poor before, he’ll have no trouble slipping right back into the unfortunate circumstances of his birth. 

o o o

Act II: Jumping

A few weeks later

The transition is nowhere near as smooth as Taehyung imagined it would be, because he made the beginner mistake of not factoring in his partner. A substantial error, when the man was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. 

No, for Park Jimin, the transition isn’t smooth, and he likes to remind Taehyung of it everyday. Whether he realises it or not is up for discussion. Sometimes it seems like he’s doing it on purpose, to annoy the artist, and sometimes he seems completely unconscious. Unaware that his words can hurt, that this is what life is like for those who aren’t lucky enough to be born in his family. 

One significant change in their relationship is that the fiancés talk more. It isn’t necessarily a positive one, though. It’s like their very first conversation together: the masks are off now, just as Taehyung has always wanted, but Jimin is like a wounded animal without his. The act was what kept things civil, but now all pretense is gone and they have their first true arguments. Not that they had never exchanged harsh words before, but there was never anything heated about them. 

Now their conversations go more like this: 

“I am sick of the smell of your paint,” Jimin says accusingly. 

Taehyung can imagine him in the ‘office corner’ of their shared bedroom, squinting at his computer screen like he does all day long. Later, he’ll complain about his back and Taehyung will tell him that he should straighter while Jimin will blame the wooden chair. 

“You’re welcome to get out of the flat once in a while,” the painter shouts back. 

“I’m working,” Jimin whines back. “Something that would be made considerably easier if I could do it in silence.” 

“Admit it, you’re not doing anything even remotely useful. You understand those legal documents you pretend to read all day long as little as I do,” Taehyung points out. 

He doesn’t say anything about the noise, because that would mean he’d have to agree with Jimin. His studio is far from quiet, and while that didn’t used to bother him when he came here solely for creative purposes, now the noise is getting on his nerves too. He’d tried drowning out the sound of their particularly kinky left-side neighbours’ enthusiastic intercourse and the screams of their right-side neighbours’ newborn with loud classical music, but that had only resulted in a cacophonous symphony of cries. It was rather counterproductive, when all it did was add Yeontan’s rhythmic yaps and Jimin’s frustrated whines to the mix, though both could be considered… somewhat cuter than all of the other sounds, at least. 

“It’s important!” came Jimin’s indignant shout. 

Taehyung put down his paintbrushes and went to sit on their springy mattress, wanting to have a proper conversation with the man he was stuck with in close quarters for the foreseeable future. 

“Jimin. You have an army of lawyers whose job it is to do this, and the trial is months away. Let go.” 

Jimin slowly turned to face him, burying his small hands in Yeontan’s fur when the dog jumped onto his lap. 

“I don’t know how to,” he admits softly. 

Taehyung lets out a small sound of sympathy. As much as Jimin annoys him, he gets that the situation is a difficult one for him to go through. He’s trying, in his own, clumsy, rich-boy way. It’s easier, for Taehyung, because he’s been through it all before. 

In fact, it feels like he’s been liberated of a weight he didn’t know was pulling him down. Free of the meaningless expectations tied to Jimin’s money, he can finally spread his wings. He’s back to square one, having to prove his worth all over again, but he’s confident. And most important of all, it’s like all those months of lack of inspiration are making it up to him all at once. He’s never felt so inspired, painting until late at night and falling asleep to the sound of Jimin’s soft snores right next to him. Never has his art been instilled with so much life. 

The next day, Taehyung gives his old friend Jungkook a ring. The two had drifted apart, something the artist regrets immensely, but he also knows that his former flatmate will always have his back. Or he hopes so, anyway. 

He gives the good news to Jimin the next day, over a steaming bowl of instant ramen - their diet since Jimin claims that their new kitchen is too small to cook properly in. 

“A job?” Jimin replies incredulously. 

“Hmm. It’ll be good for you. That way you can keep busy, ear a few extra pennies.” Experience a different slice of life and get out of my way, Taehyung doesn’t add. 

“In a café?” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies brightly. “It’s so lucky! The one my friend’s boyfriend works in happens to be looking for more staff, and it’s so close by!” 

“I’ll have to take public transport,” Jimin states. 

“Just a couple of stops,” Taehyung argues, but it’s beside the point. They both know it isn’t the length of the commute worrying him as much as the prospect of no longer having the luxury of a chauffeur to take him everywhere he desires in the comfort and safety of a slick black mercedes. “Look, I know this isn’t how you imagined your life would be. But things are what they are, and you should always make the most of it. That’s what my grandma used to tell me, anyway.” 

Jimin doesn’t look up from his bowl, but he does nod, and the next day Taehyung does hear him leaving the flat in time to make it to the address Jungkook had indicated. Jimin was nervous, Taehyung could tell, but he comes home a little relaxed. 

He even offers to take Tannie on his evening walk. 

o o o

It’s mysterious and wonderful, how fast humans can adapt to a new environment. Jimin is living proof of it, Taehyung thinks. He’s taken the change in stride, and their cohabitation has greatly benefited from it. So has Yeontan, who now sort of has two adoring owners instead of just one (he always did, but Jimin used to be too prideful to dote on the dog openly), and Taehyung’s tummy, because Jimin is finally out of his cooking slump. 

Things aren’t perfect, far from it, but Taehyung feels more settled and Jimin looks more grounded, even if that doesn’t really make much sense. Paradoxically, they’re both a little happier, maybe. 

“You’re home early,” Taehyung calls out when he hears the door shut on a thursday afternoon a few weeks later. The words probably come out a bit garbled, because Taehyung has the bad habit of holding his paintbrushes between his teeth when he runs out of hands. 

“Yeah. One of the new girls really wanted my shift, so I’ll take hers on Wednesday mornings instead,” Jimin explains. “Uh, Taehyung, did you steal a baby?” 

The painter sets his tool down and joins Jimin in there bedroom, where a tiny angel is indeed sleeping. 

“This is Miya,” he whispers. 

“I don’t understand. Who is she?” 

“Well you’ll soon have the pleasure of recognising her lovely voice if you don’t keep yours down, so I suggest we move to the kitchen.”

Jimin obediently shuffles out of the small room. 

“You mean this is the crying baby from flat 44?” 

“Yup. In her defense, growing teeth is painful business.”

“Okay, but what is she doing here, Tae?” Jimin interjects. 

Taehyung’s temper flares out of habit, but he quickly realises he doesn't mind the nickname so much when it’s coming from Jimin. 

“I look after her a couple of afternoons a week, while her mom is off to work.”

“Oh. That’s... nice of you,” Jimin comments, looking unflatteringly surprised. 

“Not that much. She’s so cute! It’s no trouble at all, and she seems to like me,” Taehyung says with a wide smile. 

Jimin just stares at him, not saying anything. Taehyung grows a little uncomfortable. 

“What?” he prompts. 

“Nothing!” Jimin exclaims, shaking off whatever thoughts he was having. “It’s just… You never used to smile like that?” 

Taehyung snorts. 

“Like what?” 

“So… rectangularly.” 

Jimin blushes, embarrassed, as if he’d just said something ridiculous. His fake fiancé just laughs, clamping a hand on his mouth when he remembers Miya and exactly how thin the walls are - basically cardboard. 

“Smells nice,” Taehyung says later, once the baby has been restituted to its rightful parent and Jimin is preparing dinner. 

Jimin hums, swaying his hips to the jazzy rhythm of the music Taehyung just put on. 

“Your favourite, dumplings and radish soup,” he answers confidently. 

“What makes you think that’s my favourite?” 

“Your avid and inelegant slurping every time I make it. Plus, your mum told me.” 

This gives Taehyung pause. 

“When?” he enquires. 

“At your sister’s wedding.” They don’t often mix up with Taehyung’s family, because he finds it hard to keep up appearances in front of people he loves so much and is so close to. He speaks with them often on the phone, though. “Speaking of smells, how come I can’t smell your paint anymore?”

“Ah. Well, turns out paint fumes aren’t great for babies, apparently. I’m trying out new mediums.” 

“And how’s that going?” 

It’s rare for Jimin to ask about Taehyung’s work, so the artist doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste. 

“Not great, to be honest. I’d love to experiment with ink but I haven’t got the right brushes, so I’m stuck with charcoal for the moment. Can’t say I’d missed it much, since college. Anyway, how’s it going in the café?” 

“Alright, I guess,” Jimin says with a tiny, shy, sweet smile as he chops the mushrooms. “The coffee machine can be tricky, but I think I’ve just about managed to tame it. And Hoseok’s been really helpful. I met his boyfriend too, but I’m not sure he liked me much.” 

That makes sense, since Taehyung and Jungkook had been extremely close until he had been snatched by Jimin’s father. Things between the two friends have been tense since, and Taehyung can’t blame Jungkook. They’ve been trying to mend their friendship recently, meeting up for coffee and, on one sadly memorable occasion, to go for a run together (jogging was more Jimin’s thing, Taehyung hated it and was reminded why every time he attempted it). 

“You should come by, someday,” Jimin continues softly. 

“Sure,” Taehyung answers, ignoring the fact that he hates the taste of coffee. 

o o o

‘Someday’ happens a week later. Taehyung walks into the cute coffeeshop, Yeontan in toe. Jimin gives his a blinding smile from across the counter when he sees him, and Taehyung immediately feels bad. 

“What will you have?” he asks sweetly. 

“Uh,” Taehyung responds eloquently, looking at the drinks listed above his fiancé’s head and sighing in relief when he spots one that isn’t a variation of coffee. “Hot chocolate.” 

“Taehyung. It’s June, not quite the season for hot chocolates.”

“Then, maybe tea? If you have some?” he tries guiltily. 

“You don’t like coffee?” Jimin frowns. “How come I never noticed this?” 

The question is a rhetorical one, so Taehyung just shrugs. It’s no big deal. 

“Thanks,” he says when Jimin hands him the steaming beverage. “Actually, I need to talk to you. Is it okay if you take a break?” 

“Sure. Let me just warn Hobi,” Jimin obliges, taking his apron off. 

Taehyung finds a table available in a secluded corner. It’d be a lovely place to spend a lazy afternoon reading a book, he thinks. 

“So, you and Hoseok have become buddies, then?” he asks once Jimin has sat down opposite him. He should just get straight to the reason for his visit, but Taehyung deep down hates making pretty boys sad. 

Jimin’s cheeks go a little pink.

“Uhm, yeah. Kind of. He’s an amazing dancer.” 

Ah. That explains it. Jimin is also a pretty decent dancer, in Taehyung’s opinion - not that he’s ever told him that. Jimin had dragged Taehyung to his fair share of ballets and insisted they attended every charity gala were a dance performance was to be given. The painter had always complained, but more by principle than actual reluctance. 

“So. I’m actually here because I got a call from you father’s lawyer.” 

In a fraction of a second, Jimin’s expression goes from open and friendly to guarded. It’s quite scary how fast the transition happens, actually. 

“What does he want?” he asks icily. 

“To meet up, he says. To talk.”

Jimin doesn’t ask him for anymore details, so Taehyung just lets him chew the information in peace. That night, as they both pretend to be asleep with as much space in between their bodies as the old mattress will allow, Taehyung puts a comforting hand on the other man’s shoulder. 

He’s doing some sketching in his studio when Jimin comes back from visiting hours at the prison that saturday. The prospect of the meeting has had an obvious emotional toll on him, so Taehyung waits to see if it looks like he wants to talk about it or not. 

Jimin sits down next to him half an hour later, fresh from the shower. 

“How was it?” Taehyung dares to ask. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” 

The artist nods. 

“Tell me if there’s anything I can do,” he simply states, getting up to start preparing dinner, not expecting an immediate answer. 

“Actually, Taehyung, there is something.” Taehyung turns around, all ears, just in time to see Jimin blush. It’s funny, after so long living together, Taehyung had never noticed how prone his fiancé was to it. “I was thinking how everything’s different… and, I don’t know, I want to mark the change somehow? It’s stupid, but I want to dye my hair again.” 

“Not stupid,” Taehyung reprimands softly. “And I’d be happy to help,” he adds, answering the yet unasked request. “The question is what colour do you want?” 

“I wasn’t sure, so I bought three on the way back from the prison. Orange, sea green and light pink. You’re the colour master, which do you think I should go for?”

“Orange,” Taehyung replies with barely an instant of hesitation. Jimin hums and then promptly buries his head in his hands, plagued by self-doubt. 

“I shouldn’t do this. My sisters always said dyed hair suited me terribly.” 

“Your step-sisters are nasty witches who’ve always been jealous of you.” Taehyung knows this for a fact after a couple of years of being seated next to them at Park family events. Jimin will probably never agree to that, but some things are better noticed by outsiders. 

“Doesn’t mean they aren’t right. They have pretty good fashion sense.” 

As much as Taehyung would love to, he can’t quite argue with that last statement. 

“Still. I’ve only seen you with dyed hair once, but it looked pretty good to me.”

Jimin laughs, and his fiancé notices that his eyes are a little watery. Probably the day’s emotional fill catching up with him. 

“My father made me dye it back to black the next morning. I think he hoped people wouldn’t recognise me on the photo if I had a different hair colour.”

“Our lives would definitely have gone a little differently if that had been the case.” They never mention the circumstances that brought them together, so this is a very weird conversation indeed. “Anyway, I think it’s a great idea. In fact, do you mind if I use up the green?” 

Jimin smiles up at him gratefully. 

The evening is spent in shuffling around in their tiny bathroom, bent over the sink in their bathrobes (Taehyung is so glad his is green, that way the stains aren’t so visible). He applies the chemicals on Jimin’s hair, and then they switch. The process is familiar to both, so they don’t struggle too much. Taehyung finds them caps to wear while the colour sets in, the same he would sometimes use if he was worried that his creative process would be a particularly messy one. 

“This reminds me of when I used to have sleepovers with friends, in my teens. We felt like such rebels, dying our hair with my mother’s products. Doing each other’s nails while pretending to be girls, and removing the polish the next morning so that no one would make fun of us.” 

Taehyung flushes, worried that he’d let too much slip out. Jimin looks at him in surprise. 

“What else did you do?” he finally asks. 

“Uh… We’d watch films together. Tell my parents we’d go to bed at the end but then put another one on once they were asleep. That kind of stuff.” 

“We could do that? Watch a film, I mean. While we’re waiting. If you want?” 

Jimin looks so hesitant. He used to make Taehyung want to scream - still does, sometimes - but now there’s also this weird urge to wrap him up in his arms and protect him from the world. 

“Sure!” Taehyung smiles happily. 

They must be a strange sight, ten minutes later, two men sitting at opposite ends of a bed, eyes glued to the laptop open between them and plastic bubbles on their heads. It’s their first time watching a film together, ever. It’s Spirited Away , because apparently they’re both big Miyazaki fans (they both think that Howl’s Moving Castle is the best, but agreed to watch the runner-up since Jimin’s seen it recently). 

“What did you do with your friends, when you were young?” Taehyung asks as the credits roll down, because something about Jimin’s attitude in their previous conversation bothered him. 

“I didn’t really have any.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, so Taehyung doesn’t ask. He just stares at his fiancé new hair colour, the one he pretended to hate so much. 

o o o

One morning, Taehyung wakes up with a warm, manly body pressed close to his. He can feel Jimin’s small puffs of air tickling his collarbone, his solid weight between his arms. His first instinct is to pull him closer, his second to flee. Taehyung hates decisions, so he just pretends to be asleep for a little while longer (ignoring the fact that he basically just went with option 1). 

Jimin smells nice. Like white clouds and cherry blossom. Taehyung was right, orange hair really suits him. 

Taehyung only gets about ten minutes of illicit snuggling in before his phone starts vibrating loudly against his bedside table, demanding immediate attention. So Taehyung carefully separates his limbs from Jimin’s and slips into his studio-slash-living room to take the call. 

“Hello?” he rumbles sleepily. 

“Taehyungie!” his mother screeches. “Why didn’t you tell us your boyfriend got into trouble with the justice? Your father read this arti  -” 

This is exactly why Taehyung didn’t bother informing his parents. It’s hard to keep up the lie in front of them. He hates it, but he promised Park Bohyun that no one would know about their arrangement, including his family. Still, Taehyung’s family isn’t particularly fond of Jimin, as if they could sense the deceit in their relationship. He tunes back into his mother’s rambling in time to hear her say that he should come home, in her opinion. 

“It doesn’t change anything.” It’s not true, everything has changed, but that happens to be the reason he refuses. “I’m staying here, with him.” 

“I’m not suggesting you come back to the farm forever, baby bear. Just until the rich boy sorts himself out, hm?” 

Taehyung hears the tell-tale rustling of sheets in the next room. 

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, ending the call. He knows that both his parents wonder what’s keeping him in Seoul, and truth is Taehyung isn’t sure either. 

“Was that your mum?” comes Jimin’s sleep-laden voice. 

“Yeah.” 

The day goes as most of Taehyung’s do now. Jimin leaves the flat for the coffee shop while he wolfs down his cereals, and then he’s free to paint and create. Recently he’s been reconciling with pencil, drawing intricate portraits. Most of them of Miya, to her mother’s delight, because babies make the best models (especially when they’re asleep). 

The neighbour brings her over around noon, thanking him profusely every time. Taehyung sits her in his lap and spoon-feeds her vegetable puree, and then lays her down on the bed. She’s out like a light. When she wakes up a few hours later, she’s in a playful mood and has decided that her new favourite toy is a strand of Taehyung’s hair, fascinated by the new colour. It didn’t come out too bad, Taehyung thinks as he giggles along with his little bundle of joy. 

Miya leaves around six, and Taehyung gets back to work. Not that he has much to do, really, since all his commissions have been cancelled, but he continues because it would be stupid to slow down right at the point where he feels like he’s finally making some artistic progress. What he did before wasn’t bad - nor was its success bought, only brought to light by Park connections - but this is a new evolution in his work. One he doesn’t intend to miss. 

Jimin comes in late, but the painter isn’t particularly surprised. Apparently he’s really been hitting it off with Hoseok lately, and the two of them have been having fun dancing together in a studio not far from the café. Taehyung is happy for Jimin. In many ways, it feels like he’s fitting into this life better than he did in his previous one. 

“Taehyung. I’ve got something for you,” he says when he finally comes home, handing his fiancé a small bag. 

Inside is an assortment of brushes, those that are specifically used for ink work and that Taehyung has wanted for weeks. He gasps at the sight, and Jimin laughs awkwardly. 

“I don’t understand. What did you buy those with?” Taehyung asks. 

“I got my first paycheck today,” Jimin announces proudly. 

“And this is what you decided to spend it on?” 

“Well I didn’t spend it all. It’s no big deal.” He rubs the back of his neck, like he always does when he feels embarrassed. “I just wanted to thank you. For being here for me, even though you could’ve left.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for that.” 

“Yes I do. And I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to uphold my part of the deal.” 

It’s the first time the topic has ever been brought up between them. 

“What do you mean?” Taehyung enquires, cocking his head. 

“Our understanding is that my family would build your reputation in exchange for preserving mine and staying with me for another two years. The Parks haven’t exactly been doing much to help you, lately. Quite the opposite, in fact.” 

“That’s okay. Life is full of ups and downs, and we must learn to live with them.”

Jimin snorts. 

“Is that another one of your grandmother’s sayings?” 

“Nah, this one is all mine,” Taehyung smiles. 

It’s only the next morning, as he settles down to work with his new tools, that the brushes are from his favourite art supply brand. The one he always buys from, because he likes the quality of their products. Not the most expensive, nor the cheapest. 

He’s surprised that Jimin ever noticed. 

o o o

Summer comes, putting the world under its lethargic spell. Taehyung loves the heat, but he’s a winter baby. It just isn’t his thing. 

Jimin seems to thrive, though. That’s what Taehyung is thinking as he sees his fiancé swirling onstage like a pristine butterfly alongside Hoseok and a dozen kids, body apparently boneless. The choreography isn’t particularly difficult, having been created for Hoseok’s eight year old pupils, but Jimin executes it perfectly and with a grace to his movement that does nothing to hide his full potential. 

Taehyung came to smile fondly at the bunch of children bumbling along to the rhythm, copying their teacher’s (and his temporary assistant’s) familiar moves, but now he finds himself unable to detach his gaze from Hoseok’s recently-appointed assistant. In his defence, he doubts he’s the only one in attendance with this predicament - Jimin made him laugh to tears just a few days ago recounting his adventures refusing the insistent advances of more than one single mum (and a few dads, too). 

Jungkook, ever the supportive boyfriend, puts a hand around Taehyung’s shoulder. 

“When are you gonna tell him?” he whispers in the artist’s ear. 

“Tell who what?” Taehyung asks, still not looking away. If Jimin is like a butterfly, then he’s a moth attracted to the flame. Creatures of night and day. 

“Don’t play coy, hyung. I can see the way you look at him. It has nothing to do with what it was just a couple of months ago.” 

One of the tiny dancers’ grandmother, a well-dressed older woman sitting to Jungkook’s left, shushes him, and that’s the end of that particular conversation. Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief. 

But he’s always been weirdly brash when it comes to matters of the heart. People account it to his devil-may-care and confident personality, but it’s actually because he simply can’t take the waiting, the wondering. He likes things to be out in the open, where everything is clear and he has no secret lingering in the bright corners of his taken heart. 

He regrets his words as soon as they’re out, but there’s no changing them. He just asked Jimin if he would pose for him, as they were walking home in companionable silence after what Jimin calls the ‘baby showcase’. 

His worries were for nothing, though, because all Jimin does is suck in a breath and exhale ‘okay’. 

There’s a beautiful full moon hanging low in the sky, casting the world in its eerie light, and it makes Jimin shine peculiarly in Taehyung’s enamoured eyes. Jimin is a bit surprised when the artist says he wants to do it right then but doesn’t put up much of a fight. Instead, he sits on the stool his fiancé indicates and does his best not to move an inch for the next half-hour. Taehyung gets to work, focusing on his work and trying not to let Jimin’s warm gaze distract him. 

“Jungkook thinks I’m falling for you,” he says, not looking up from the heavy paper where the drawing is taking life. 

Some words don’t break the silence they’re born from. Instead, they seem to blend into it and become a false figment of the protagonists’ imaginations. Taehyung’s confession is like that. 

“And are you?” Jimin asks with badly disguised interest. He uses that nonchalant tone that used to drive his flatmate crazy, but now Taehyung finds he doesn’t mind it so much. Not when he knows it’s just a way of camouflaging how much he actually cares. 

“Maybe.”

Taehyung concentrates on his brushstrokes as the silence stretches across them, like a tangible mass drowning the couple in dream matter. 

“Good,” is all Jimin answers. 

Good is good enough for now. They have time to catch each other, and Taehyung knows he isn’t falling alone. 

o o o

It’s on his way to the supermarket, where Taehyung was headed to restock on instant ramen, that he learns that time is running out faster than he thought. It’s written there, an ominous headline on the top of a pile of unsold newspapers: Charges dropped against Park Enterprises. 

Once again, Taehyung’s whole world is turned upside down. He thought he’d have months to figure out how to navigate his new feelings with Jimin, he’d thought they’d finally find happiness together, in a life that suited them both better, surrounded by people who truly cared about them. 

Looking back, maybe he had been naive. Perhaps it was only fair that the unfairness of life was catching up with them. Still, he found himself disappointed. 

This meant a return to the life from before. Its ever-flowing money, expensive smell and asinine taste. Its dull events and worse company, insincere smiles and numbing French wines. Most of all, Taehyung fears what it will mean for Jimin and him. 

It will nip their romance in the bud. 

Taehyung wouldn’t call himself a romantic, but he’s a fierce lover. When he gives his heart away to someone, it takes him a long time to grow a new one. He wants what his parents have, he wants it all, eventually: the eternal devotion to one another, the shared laughs and tears, the children. For a while he fooled himself into thinking Jimin could be the one he’d fulfil that dream with, but the paper says otherwise. 

He drags his feet back to their flat, forgetting why he was out in the first place. He feels numb, staring at the finished painting of the man he loves. Jimin is radiant in it, pale skin glowing because the artist said so, lips pink and eyes twinkling like stars. Around him is a sea of pastel colours, a background pattern of flowers and bold lines. Jimin said it was beautiful, and it’s the best praise Taehyung has ever received. 

Jimin comes home earlier than usual, another indication that things are amiss. He immediately shuts himself off in their bedroom. Taehyung hears his familiar ringtone, and then Jimin is talking with someone in hushed tones. 

“I never want to hear from you again,” he hisses down the line at some point, and then silence. 

Taehyung thinks maybe he hears a few sobs at some point. An hour later, he suspects Jimin is busy packing, the sound of drawers opening and closing deafening in the early evening stillness. Taehyung sort of misses Miya’s screaming, but she’s been quiet ever since her teeth have stopped hurting. 

The sun has set when Jimin emerges. His cheeks are a little puffy, but he’s putting on a brave smile anyway. Taehyung loves him so much. 

“Taehyung, still fancy visiting Paris?” Jimin looks like he’s expecting an answer, but Taehyung doesn’t know what to say. “I booked a hotel. We could both do with a holiday, if you want to come with me?” he sniffles. 

Taehyung isn’t fooled by Jimin’s words. He chose what he knows to be Taehyung’s dream destination, under his airs of indifferently inviting him to come along. This is Jimin’s way of saying that he doesn’t want to go back to how things were either. 

He looks so small, so unsure, standing there in the doorway of their tiny bedroom. Taehyung finally gives in to the urge and takes him in his arms, tightening his grasp when he feels small hands on his back. 

He holds Jimin even closer when he feels damp lips on the corner of his own.

o o o

Act III: Landing

Two days later

Paris isn’t as beautiful as Taehyung thought it would be. In fact, it’s infested by tourists, dirty and its streets sort of smells like urine. And yet, Taehyung can’t bring himself to be disappointed, not when he’s got Jimin by his side. The two of them have spent the day hand in hand, Taehyung dragging Jimin from museum to museum until their feet hurt from too much walking and their cheeks from too much smiling. They finally check into the hotel around six, tired but happy. 

Jimin is lying on the bed, smiling somewhat stupidly at the ceiling, when Taehyung comes out of the bathroom. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.  

“You,” Jimin replies honestly. “I have so many regrets, but now I think the dreams outnumber those.” 

That’s nice to hear. 

“What do you regret?” 

“How I behaved the first time we met, for one.” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung laughs. “You really need to step up your game in the seduction department. Hey!” he exclaims playfully when an indignant pillow goes flying in his direction. 

“Imagine if we’d met and actually talked like normal people.” 

“You and I are not normal people,” he interjects. 

“Maybe. Still, we could have liked each other earlier. Gone on dates, moved in together. We would have avoided this cold war fiasco that lasted three years.”

Taehyung sits down besides Jimin, thoughtful. 

“I don’t regret it. Our first meeting brought us to where we are now,” he says wisely. “Wanna do it over?” 

“I’d love to,” Jimin replies dreamily. 

“Then let’s do it,” his fiancé says excitedly. 

“What?” 

“Meet you in an hour at a restaurant and let’s have our first date.” 

“I still don’t understand.” 

“I’m granting your wish, Jimin-ah. Let’s meet again as strangers. Let’s start over.”

Jimin looks up from where his head was buried in a pillow and throws Taehyung a blinding smile. 

The artist goes to his own room - at this point, it had become a habit for them to share (platonically, of course) but he’s suddenly glad Jimin reserved another one in case he felt like privacy. He washes off the travel grime and slips on his nicest suit, styling his hair off his forehead in that way that always makes Jimin suck in a breath. 

He’s strangely nervous, as he walks up the glass tubes of the Centre Pompidou to the address he sent Jimin. The restaurant doesn’t disappoint: situated on the sixth floor of a contemporary art museum, it’s undeniably one of the trendiest in Paris - and expensive, Taehyung’s unhelpful brain completes, but Jimin and his unfrozen bank account can take care of that. It’s a beautiful summer evening, so the venue is full of willowy parisian women in elegant dresses and rich, handsome young men grabbing a drink together after a long day at work, but Taehyung only has eyes for Jimin. The man who will always drive him crazy, one way or another. 

Currently this man is anxiously fiddling with his silver cufflinks. Taehyung can sympathise, it’s always hard to tie them on your own. 

“Do you mind?” he asks when he reaches Jimin’s table, gesturing to the fickle little objects. 

Jimin shrugs, surprised, and Taehyung bends to do the cufflinks up. 

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asks casually. He makes a pretty convincing actor, so an onlooker would think that they really don’t know each other and that Taehyung was just showing off innovative pick up techniques with his cufflinks trick. 

“Actually… no.” 

“Do you mind if I join you for dinner  then? I hate to eat on my own.” 

Jimin cocks his head, as if to say ‘I didn’t know’, and his eyes twinkle. 

“I would love that,” he declares. “I’m Park Jimin, by the way.”

“Kim Taehyung. So, Park Jimin-ssi, what brings you here?” 

“Jimin, please. I fancied getting away from my troubles for a bit, I suppose. What about you?” 

“Oh, I came to see beautiful things,” he says simply, staring at Jimin. 

“Such as?” Jimin prompts. 

“Masterpieces by Rodin, Monet, Van Gogh, Cézanne.”

“You seem like a connaisseur,” he observes. 

“You could say that. I’m a painter myself,” Taehyung confesses with a charming smile. 

“I’d love to see your works one day. I mean, if you ever wanted to show me.” 

The artist laughs, and Jimin takes it as his cue to relax. 

“I’d love that. But I must warn you, they aren’t that good. It’s still a work in progress, after five years.” 

“I’m sure they’re beautiful. Just like you.” 

Taehyung feels his cheek warm, and blames it on the wine. 

“So, tell me about yourself,” he says, diverting the topic of conversation. “What do you do?” 

Jimin lays his chin in his hands, considering the question longer than one usually would considering how simple it is. 

“I’m not sure yet. I suppose I’ll just go back to my old job when I get to Korea, but I don’t want to think about it here.” 

The dinner goes to perfection. The food is tasty, the conversation flows and so does the wine. It’s the perfect opportunity to let go of their heavy history together and write a new chapter of their story. 

Jimin asks about Taehyung’s family, Taehyung asks about his childhood, his studies. They both learn about one another, even if they know snippets after unwillingly sharing a life for the past three years. It’s nice to finally know not just the facts but also the reasons that lead to them. They touch onto lighter topics too, like Taehyung’s eclectic fashion sense and Jimin’s secret sweet tooth. 

They walk back to the hotel hand in hand, slowly because they can’t take their eyes off each other but don’t want to stumble. They don’t let go, neither wanting the evening to end. 

“Come up to my room for a last drink?” Taehyung whispers with a kiss to Jimin’s palm. 

Jimin nods knowingly, and Taehyung leads the way. He pours them both a glass of lukewarm soju that he’d hidden in his luggage. It’s about as appetizing as it sounds, but they both know the alcohol is just an excuse. 

He hands Jimin his and slips his arm around his slender waist. Jimin puts the drink down - hopefully because there are other things on his mind and not because he’s mildly disgusted - and presses close to Taehyung. 

They spend a few minutes like that - not moving, just breathing the other in and measuring the change that is about to occur. It doesn’t scare Taehyung, though. After so long falling, he’s ready to land, with Jimin there to catch him. 

They start kissing, at some point. Shy pecks at first, then open-mouthed kisses that grow in intensity. They drink each other in, exploring the beginnings of a new intimacy together. Jimin’s lips are even softer than Taehyung remembers from their first meeting. He can’t get enough of the small moans that slip past the other’s parted lips. 

Jimin guides him to the bed and climbs on top of him, meeting little resistance on Taehyung’s part (in fact, Taehyung is fairly sure he lets out an unmanly whimpers). Clothes go flying to the floor fairly fast, while Taehyung sucks bruises onto his new favourite canvas, which is now heavily panting and more than a little excited if the pressure the artist feels against his inner thigh is any indication. 

“It’s been a while,” Taehyung confesses against his lover’s flawless skin. 

Jimin laughs, a little self-deprecatingly. 

“However long it’s been for you, it’s been longer for me.”

“Six months,” Taehyung frowns, unsure where Jimin is going with this. Jimin doesn’t look particularly surprised, which makes sense considering that, when they lived in the penthouse, he must have noticed how Taehyung occasionally wore his most revealing clothes and didn’t come back until the early morning, in dire need of a shower. 

“I haven’t had sex in over three years.” Taehyung fixes his wide-eyed gaze on Jimin, urging him on. “I just don’t like hook-ups.” 

“So… But..” 

“The last time I tried that was with you, and look how that ended,” Jimin scoffs. 

Taehyung presses a tender kiss to the underside of Jimin’s jaw, one with a pure intent. 

“I have high hopes for it not ending, actually. But if you’d rather we didn’t… tonight… then we won’t. I’m content holding you in my arms as I sleep.”

Taehyung doesn’t say that he’s just as much of a beginner when it comes to making love as Jimin, because that sounds too cheesy even to his own ears. 

“No, I want this,” Jimin replies fervently. “This isn’t a hook-up, and you aren’t a stranger anymore. I know you, and I want to know you some more.” 

“Are you quoting the bible at such a sinful moment moment, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung says distractedly, attention stolen by the legs that have spread before his eyes like blooming flowers. He bends down to steal another kiss. “I love you, Jimin-ah,” he promises reverently. 

“I love you, Taehyung-ah,” the night whispers back. 

o o o

They stay for a week and a half, and it’s like a belated honeymoon. Some days are spent soiling the sheets, others scouring the streets in search of Taehyung’s favourite artworks, and each one is perfect in its own way. 

“Jimin,” Taehyung asks seriously on the last day, as they’re sitting on a park bench savouring exotic sorbets. “What happens now, about the deal?” 

“Fuck the deal,” Jimin answers vehemently, swearing uncharacteristically. 

“So we aren’t engaged anymore?” 

“I suppose not,” he clarifies. Taehyung ignores the pang in his chest at the thought of not being officially tied to this man anymore. “Why, isn’t that what you want?” 

“I agree with you about the deal itself, but… I don’t like the idea of you not being my fiancé anymore.” 

Jimin suddenly gets up, grabs Taehyung’s hand and drags him into a small second-hand jewellery boutique across the street. 

“Show us your men’s engagement rings,” Jimin orders the little old man sitting behind the counter in his best accented English. Taehyung could kiss him, but he’s worried about the scandalized look that could earn them. 

They choose the simplest bands, in the end. A thick silver one for Jimin and a delicate gold one for Taehyung. They’ve been worn before, but Taehyung likes that they chose objects that are already infused with their own separate love stories, a bit like Taehyung and Jimin’s own disordered one. 

Taehyung does kiss Jimin, when the shopholder withdraws to wrap up their newly-bought jewellery. 

“I want to spend my life with you,” he tells him in a breath. 

“Good,” Jimin answers, giddy with joy himself and matching the shy smile his fiancé - real this time - sends him. 

o o o

Epilogue

A year later

Jimin groans his frustration out, on edge. 

“Here, let me help you,” Taehyung offers soothingly, bending down a little to do up his fiancé’s cufflinks. Jimin looks particularly breathtaking tonight, with his salmony-pink hair (the orange dye washed out nicely) and crisp evening suit. “It’ll go fine,” Taehyung reassures him. 

The two are on their way to have dinner with Park Bohyun, after much mediating on Taehyung’s part. He may agree with Jimin that his father is a corrupt, nasty piece of work, but he doesn’t believe in torn up families. Convincing Jimin was hard, but he finally agreed to meet up. 

“Remember,” Taehyung says with a kiss to Jimin’s forehead as they enter the fancy restaurant, “Him being your father does not mean the two of you have anything in common, Jimin-ah. You’ve been doing a much better job of leading Park Enterprises, of course, but most of all you’re a better man.” 

Jimin sighs and gives his fiancé a thankful peck. They sit across from Park Bohyun, whose eyes are glued to their linked hands.

“What’s this?” he booms angrily. 

“Father, I’d like you to meet Kim Taehyung, my fiancé,” Jimin replies confidently. “He’s an incredible artist and the loveliest man I’ve ever met.” 

“I know who he is, boy. I’m asking why you’re holding hands with him. There’s no one here to act for.” 

“And no reason to,” Taehyung completes. “Anymore.” 

He puts a possessive arm on Jimin’s waist and something gives the truth it away. Maybe it’s the love burning in their eyes, or the way their bodies seek each other’s warmth. 

“You’re… together.” 

“We are.” 

It’s a depressing dinner, on the whole, with Bohyun so upset that his plan to make sure his son focused on the company instead of pursuing love affairs backfired so dramatically. It brings back painful memories of a time when they didn’t have the patience to understand each other, and era of dry coldness and loneliness for them both. 

But it doesn’t matter, because then they go home and Taehyung falls asleep cocooned in Jimin’s strong arms with the smell of clouds and cherry blossom around him and Yeontan at their feet. Tomorrow, they’ll wake up tangled in each other and Jimin will be the first he’ll sleepily mumble good morning to. Jimin will kiss him before heading off to redesign the economical landscape of the country, and Taehyung will protest weakly that he hasn’t brushed his teeth yet. The artist will watch over Miya while he puts the finishing touches on Orfeo ’s decor, and then they’ll meet again for dinner. Maybe Jimin will cook at home, or they’ll try the new little restaurant that opened right next to his studio. 

In a few years, maybe, they’ll tie the knot properly. Not officially, because Korea still has a way to go for that, but in front of the friends and family who matter to them. Taehyung hopes they’ll adopt, even if the topic hasn’t really been broached yet. Either, he’ll get to see Jimin grow old, and that makes him luckiest man on earth. 

The future looks bright, and Taehyung can't wait to meet it. 

o o o