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The first semester of their freshman year, their school had put on a production of The Magic Flute.
It wasn’t extravagant, not by any means; the costumes were the most impressive feature by far, but even those weren’t top notch. The set was minimal, and the orchestra was small. The singers were students, and sounded as such.
Still, having seen such a production as a bright-eyed first year really blew Jimin away.
It had left such a lasting impression on him that, despite his own commitment to his already neatly laid-out education major, Jimin had burst from his seat in the audience after the final curtain had drawn, cheering with uproarious applause, and thinking only one encompassing thought:
I have to do that.
And, he did.
━
He and Taehyung had met during their orientation to the School of Music, but they made faster friends following the auditions for their program’s second production━a show called Bye Bye, Birdie.
Neither of them had been expecting much from their auditions; Taehyung wasn’t a performance major, either, and was much less enraptured by all of it than Jimin was, but he’d still wanted to get a feel for what it was like, wanted a well-rounded perspective of the obscure field that was, music.
That’s what he told Jimin, anyway.
When they each got cast in the show, neither of them could deny that the excitement in their eyes was born out of pure gratification.
Oh, Jimin thought upon reading his name amongst the list. To be recognized.
Of course, his role wasn’t the most substantial of them all.
Being a tenor meant that there would always be ample competition━the same went for sopranos, too; there were plenty of other, older, more experienced singers who had been waiting in the wings for their time to shine, born out of the same enraptured passion that Jimin himself had been drawn in by.
He didn’t mind it, though. He could wait his turn. After all, dreaming only meant that you had a reason to keep on doing it━to keep reaching, to keep striving, to keep getting better.
To keep on, well, dreaming.
So, Jimin wasn’t all that hurt when he only got cast as Freddie, whose title would be listed in the programs as: not lead, nor supporting, but featured.
That was okay, for now.
For Taehyung, however, things were a little different. Mezzos and baritones were somewhat rarer to come by in the performance industry, and for someone like Taehyung (whose voice bordered on true bass, if he really used it in the way his teachers were trying to implore him to), roles would be a bit easier to come by.
So, Jimin wasn’t surprised when Taehyung got cast as Albert, one of the lead roles.
Taehyung, on the other hand, was. Surprised, that is.
“Are you kidding?” Jimin had laughed, arms slung around Taehyung’s shoulders in a cheerful embrace. “They’d have been silly not to cast you, Taehyung!”
Taehyung flushed a pretty crimson, nose scrunched and brow still taut with disbelief.
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Jimin grinned, pinching Taehyung’s cheek between two stubby fingers.
━
Rehearsals weren’t easy.
That was one thing Jimin learned quickly━the finished product left so little to the imagination. A dance number, with all its moving parts, one which looked so flawless under the glow of stage lights and glittering costumes, was not something that could simply be thrown together. Some scenes took months to perfect, and it was hard work.
But they got by.
Taehyung was a rock Jimin hadn’t realized he’d needed. When he pictured himself, Jimin saw someone who could blend easily, someone who reaped the benefits of knowing lots of people, and of being a shoulder to cry on.
And he loved to be that way, don’t get him wrong; but on top of everything━the rehearsals, and lessons, and learning lines, and remembering staging, and not to mention their actual studies on top of all that━being the person he pictured himself to be got to be a little exhausting.
But, when Jimin was around Taehyung, all of that sort of… fell away.
He didn’t have to be any of those things. He didn’t have to be anything but Jimin, with Taehyung. And that alone, over the course of months filled with grueling rehearsals and stressful voice lessons, was everything.
Jimin isn’t a fool enough to indulge himself in stage romances, though━that’s what everyone would call them.
You spend so much time around your cast-mates, the upperclassmen would say, and you start believing that you can carry your chemistry offstage.
Granted, Jimin and Taehyung’s characters never really interacted, but…
Still.
It was just… nice, to have Taehyung at every turn. It was nice to have someone to count on, to cry with, to talk to. Nicer, still, to have someone who really understood; they were in the same boat, after all, just two first-years trying to establish themselves.
It didn’t have to be more.
It could just be… them.
And that was enough, for Jimin.
━
Though, whether it was enough for Taehyung was another story entirely.
To be given a role, a real role, with long dialogues and full scenes and a few dance numbers here and there━that sort of thing was daunting, for someone like Taehyung.
Taehyung wasn’t like Jimin, in spite of how much he liked who Jimin was.
Jimin was meant to be a star, but Taehyung had always been okay with the shadows.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it, per se; with Jimin’s unwavering support, Taehyung found his footing quickly. He learned how to act, picked up a few dancing chops, steadily got better with his vocals. He didn’t mind the spotlight, truthfully.
It’s just that, watching Jimin want it more always made Taehyung feel a little… wrong.
Jimin made so certain to ensure Taehyung in those first few weeks of rehearsals: how happy he was for him, over the moon, just beside himself with joy━how it was just as much of a dream, for him, to see his friends climb up that little ladder of stardom in their corner of the world.
“You’re something,” Jimin would often say to him, following rehearsals later on in the process, closer to opening night, when everything was really clicking into place. “You know that? You’re really something.”
It’s just, the shame was…
To Taehyung, Jimin was everything.
The wrongness of feeling like he was living Jimin’s dream, so suddenly paired with the strange and terrifying feeling of falling for a friend, his only one, and knowing he shouldn’t but doing it anyway, climbing that ladder all while falling down it all the same━it was almost too much.
Almost.
But, as with anything, Jimin always made it easier.
━
Opening night was mostly a blur of adrenaline, makeup, and tears from the upperclassmen who would be performing with the program for the very last time.
Jimin was stellar as he always was, flitting in and out of dressing rooms like a dream, dropping gifts into the hands of seniors and smothering his classmates with good-luck hugs and words of encouragement. Taehyung watched him do so feeling a little enthralled by him, because he knew Jimin, better than any of them did, and so he knew just how nervous Jimin was in spite of his cheerful disposition.
Jimin was always a better actor than Taehyung.
“You keep staring at me,” Jimin giggled, plopping down beside Taehyung where he sat in front of a mirror. He’d finally finished his rounds of positivity, and now he relegated himself to Taehyung’s side until the curtain opened on their very first show. “Am I wearing too much blush? The director said to overdo it.”
“You look great,” Taehyung murmured.
“Then, are you nervous?” Jimin teased lightly. “Don’t worry Tae, you’re gonna be great.”
Taehyung tried hard to believe him, but the ladder was looking a little rickety today. The rungs seemed to call out Jimin’s name each time Taehyung fit his hand around one to pull himself up. Not that he minded; he felt the same, anyway.
“Are you?” Taehyung wondered, searching Jimin’s gaze. “Nervous?”
Jimin looked endearingly sheepish, a feat amped up by the buckets of stage makeup.
“Only a little,” he whined, nudging Taehyung’s arm.
“Don’t be,” Taehyung said quickly.
“Why,” Jimin had laughed, leaning into his space, making his heart skip several beats. “Because my role isn’t that big?”
Taehyung shook his head.
“No,” he said quietly. “Because you’re the only star within a hundred miles of this place.”
Jimin had blanched suddenly, blinking in startled surprise━but just as Taehyung had meant to pull away, backtrack, take back his words, Jimin’s face had bloomed into something soft and pleasant.
“Wow,” Jimin breathed, clutching his chest through his costume. “You’re really something.”
Taehyung hadn’t been able to say anything else, because at that moment the director’s voice crackled through one of the overhead speakers backstage, calling everyone to their places for the opening scene.
Jimin stood without a moment’s hesitation, beaming. He reached down and squeezed Taehyung’s arm, sending him a wink.
“See you after the show, superstar.”
━
The show ended with a flourish: a grand ensemble number with some cheesy choreography, everyone singing their hearts out as the audience dissolved into pleasant applause. The bows followed seamlessly after, everyone taking their turn to blow kisses into the audience and wave goodbye.
As the curtain began to close after the last cast member took their bow, Jimin wiggled his way to where Taehyung was still standing beside his costar, the girl who played Rose. He fit his fingers between Taehyung’s wordlessly, all while still waving to the dark theater ahead of them, the lights beaming down on them.
The curtain shuttered closed, finally dousing the cast in darkness; everyone sighed, happy for the reprieve from the hot stage lights.
Jimin wasted not a second in throwing his arms around Taehyung’s neck, crushing him with a sweaty hug.
“You were incredible, Tae!”
Jimin gushed loudly with praises, jostling them where they stood as he bounced cheerfully. The rest of their cast-mates shuffled offstage on either side, disappearing through the wings to go and remove their costumes and makeup. The stage was quickly emptying, but Jimin didn’t care one bit, too preoccupied with shaking Taehyung’s shoulders.
“You sounded so wonderful, I mean, everyone was so impressed,” he beamed breathlessly. “I can’t wait to do this again next year!”
His eyes sparkled like stars.
“Ugh, okay,” he giggled after a moment, finally peeling himself away from Taehyung. “I’m gonna go scrape off all this makeup. Seriously, Tae, you’re amazing. I love you, you know? You’re amazing!”
He’d said it while walking backwards into the darkness of one of the wings, probably without even realizing he had.
Taehyung heard it, though.
It rooted him to the spot like a shot to the heart. He stood there in the middle of the darkened stage, alone, the sounds of the theater bustling around him.
But all he heard was Jimin’s voice, over and over again, even long after he’d gone.
I love you.
The ladder to the stars may as well have snapped in half, with that.
And though Jimin had disappeared backstage to climb out of his costume, Taehyung made sure that the wings of the stage heard his response, even if it got lost in the big velvety curtains.
Even if Jimin wouldn’t hear him say it━not now, or ever.
“You, too,” he said.
Taehyung walked off the stage, without looking back.