Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kota Kinabalu — 2015, Late Spring

It starts with a fraction of a second.

The start of it isn’t even a fully-formed moment. It’s but a fragment, the image of a blink of an eye, obstructed by so much more.

The prelude sees Yoongi clawing at the neoprene of the banana boat in a last effort not to be thrown into the sea. Up until that moment, Yoongi hadn’t come to regret winning the game of rock paper scissors against the youngest members to earn the front seat. The sea had looked endless beyond the boat pulling them forward, the wind on his face had felt good, and he was sure he’d twisted his body to balance out the raft in quick enough movements for the others to follow lead — thus avoiding flying off time and time again.

The steerer of the motorboat, however, seemed to have a sadistic streak. He’d swerved abruptly repeatedly until, finally, Yoongi had lost his grip.

The way Yoongi’s body had collided with the ocean was close to indescribable. A full-body slap, then a soundless moment or two where Yoongi couldn’t tell from which direction the sunlight came from. The coldness that had seeped in had been biting in its contrast with the warm paradisiac weather they’d enjoyed for nearly two days now.

When he had broken through the surface of the water, he had been met with the sight of the other members, all similarly drenched and trying to find their bearings. The raft floated only a few dozens of metres ahead, tipped over. Ah, so he hadn’t been alone when falling.

His first instinct had been to search for Hoseok, whose screams had been shrilling and full enough on the raft that even Yoongi had heard them from the very front. Hoseok, who’d begged for them to make sure he wouldn’t drown at sea.

“Saving” Hoseok was much more amusing than what Yoongi might have expected. With Hoseok launching into a monologue about the perils of extreme sports, but with half the words swallowed up by the waves crashing into them.

When he’d glanced ahead, the others had all been sluggishly moving ahead towards the raft. And it’s then that it happens.

Amongst the pack, one head turned to glance back at them. A second and Yoongi recognizes those large eyes. Only a second because then they disappear with the bright, unbridled smile Taehyung melts into.

And that’s the start. That fleeting fraction of a second, where Yoongi can’t even properly see. He’s still swallowing mouthful after mouthful of salty water. Taehyung turns back to swim forward before Yoongi has time to form even a thought of it. And even that smile had been partially hidden away by the movements of the other members.

It becomes less easy to follow Hoseok’s monologue, and less easy to remember to slow down so that Hoseok won’t be too freaked out. This getaway had been paradise for Yoongi so far - it was a little amusing to think of Hoseok’s experience instead. Day 1, wrapping a 30-kilogram snake around his shoulders. Day 2, being swallowed up by the sea.

Day 2 for Yoongi now was starting to cloud up with thoughts that just wouldn’t come together fully. Yoongi can’t shake off the image of Taehyung’s split-second smile, even though his mind is already struggling to remember the exact details of it.

He dunks his head fully underwater before climbing back onto the main boat in an effort to clear up his mind. It works, to an extent. He manages to comment on how he’d thought for a moment there that he’d been the only one thrown off. Even complains about the salt on his tongue. And he’s quick to move on to the next activity, his hand shooting up to be paired with Seokjin to paraglide.

But, as staff members buckle him into the seat next to Seokjin, his mind catches on the sound of Taehyung’s excited voice.

“Ah, seriously. That was too awesome. I wish we could just play all day. No more photoshoots!”

Yoongi doesn’t look at him, there are too many staff members separating them for him to even see Taehyung if he were to try. Still, he conjures up the image of Taehyung’s brief smile. Yoongi frowns.

The frown dissipates as they slowly ascend. Seokjin starts kicking his legs, and not to be outdone, Yoongi imitates him vigorously. And then, they’ve reached full-height. The boat now too far for him to hear a peep out of Taehyung, or anyone else for that matter.

He thinks of commenting on the beauty of the surroundings, but when he looks over Seokjin has his head leaned back, eyes shut delicately as he takes in the heat of the sun.

Yoongi smiles, soothed, and that’s when his mind pieces it together.

The memory is sudden and vivid. As it should be. Yoongi realizes it hasn’t even yet been a month. The memory of Taehyung being utterly chewed out by management, even before they could leave the music show’s venue, second trophy in hand.

They’d all been blissfully ignorant when the scolding had begun. Yoongi hadn’t even known what Taehyung had done. Apparently, had mouthed — in an excessively dramatic manner — the lyrics to a Big Bang song as they had received their trophy.

It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal. Not until the phone’s screen had been shoved into Taehyung’s face, littered with online comments condemning his attitude.

No one had said a word to defend Taehyung. How could they have? Finally, they had been winning. They hadn’t wanted to lose their footing so quickly. If Taehyung had to tone it down, so be it.

When they’d been left alone, Taehyung had smiled at them. However, it had been a flimsy thing. Not radiant enough to hide the fact that he’d been squeezing a crumpled up tissue in his fist when he’d come back from the washrooms, face tense and flushed.

And Taehyung had toned it down. Way down.

“Hyung?”

Seokjin hums in response.

Yoongi sucks in his cheeks, allows for his mind to settle on that fraction of a moment. On that brilliant smile. So, that’s what it was. He hadn’t seen Taehyung honestly smile, easily, without worry, in some time.

“You’re happy?” Yoongi asks after a beat, not entirely able to voice what was truly weighing on his mind.

Seokjin turns his head, a satisfied smile in place.

“Yeah, this is great.”

“Are we all happy?”

He more or less shouts the question this time, the wind whipping in their faces a little more harshly now.

“Yoongi, even the staff are loving it here! You’re allowed to be happy!”

He smiles back at Seokjin, even if he’s failed to lead the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go in. When they get back on their feet, leaving the staff to settle Jungkook into the contraption instead, Yoongi convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have this conversation. That had all been fairly recent, and the shouts at Taehyung to “grow up” had been a little shocking, sure, but were sure to fade with some more time. They kept busy, too busy. This too could be forgotten, another hardship to energize them to try even harder, go even harder, achieve more.

When his eyes next meet Taehyung’s, he smiles at him. And Taehyung shuts his eyes and smiles a full smile in reply.

It doesn’t look the same as it had when they had been out at sea.

Jimin slams the door.

Yoongi stays where he is, suitcase ready at the foot of his bed, fully dressed for the airport, but staying in bed and keeping his eyes shut until the very last moment they’re called on to leave. He’s always liked writing in transit. In the bus when he had been a young teen. Nowadays, more and more on aircrafts. Best to get some rest now, and pour out his creative energy once they’re settled in for their flight.

Jimin sighs. Loudly.

Yoongi breathes out through his nose, but still, stays still.

Jimin launches himself on his bed, it’s heavy enough a movement that the headboard hits against the wall roughly.

“What?” Yoongi finally asks, not daring to open his eyes just yet.

“Taehyung is such a brat!” Jimin proclaims loudly, almost instantly.

Yoongi looks over to Jimin’s bed. He’s sitting up, facing Yoongi, arms crossed angrily. Yoongi doesn’t spot any of Jimin’s belongings, which is a good sign. Somehow, the two of them had stuffed everything they had into Taehyung’s suitcase on their way over, as if thinking that would have any kind of sway on staff pairing them into rooms. Jimin had ended up in Yoongi’s room, without a suitcase.

It had been an alright couple of days though. They’d both packed lightly. It was a nice change to sleep in a room with only one neat roommate, rather than the usual seven in the single room. Jimin was also considerably less neat when equipped with his full breadth of belongings.

“So? Let him be a brat. As long as he’s happy.”

He’s taken back to the previous day’s realization, when he’d remembered how roughly Taehyung had been scolded. If this was supposed to be a vacation, then they should let Taehyung act as childishly as his heart desired.

He’s taken by surprise when Jimin tosses a pillow his way. Luckily, it misses him and lands on the floor.

“He’s not being a happy brat! Obviously I’d be over there having fun with him if he were happy. He’s just being… bratty! I had to pack all of his stuff.”

“You should have let him pack his own stuff,” Yoongi replies calmly.

It seems to be the wrong thing to say as Jimin’s voice gains some volume.

“He’s locked himself in the bathroom! If I hadn’t done it, all his stuff would still have been all over the room. He even hung up all his blouses, it was like he was prepared to live there for the next few months. Anyway, his stuff wouldn’t have been packed. And then he would have been in trouble when it’s time to go.”

“So, he’ll thank you when he’s out of the bathroom.”

“He’s being insufferable!” Jimin insists sharply.

Yoongi shuts his eyes. There’s still time to rest. It doesn’t seem he can be of much assistance aside from letting Jimin vent.

“He always turns these small things into catastrophes. And like, this time, it’s a little insulting even. Maybe not for you, but most of us aren’t really that pale. I hate when he melts down over his tan.”

Yoongi hums, a little more interested.

“Is that what’s going on? He thinks he tanned too much yesterday?”

“Yeah, well. Most of us feel the same. But he’s the only one locking himself in the bathroom, isn’t he?”

Yoongi groans. So much for the extra rest.

“Alright, take a breather. Maybe take a quick shower to relax. I’m going to head over and clear this up. You’re right, we don’t need him getting in trouble for throwing a tantrum.”

Jimin audibly scoffs. But, when Yoongi looks over, it’s clear that the other is worried.

After a quick confirmation of Taehyung and Jungkook’s room number, Yoongi is on his way. It doesn’t sound like the kind of day where he’ll catch that carefree smile again.

Jungkook opens the door at Yoongi’s knock, but is quick to return to his bed, lounging back and typing away at his phone.

“So?” Yoongi asks.

Looking back on it, the two youngest members had looked eager to rile one another up all throughout the trip, commenting on each other’s skin tone incessantly. Jungkook looks uncomfortable now. Yoongi can tell he hasn’t tanned much after all.

“Dunno.” Jungkook looks pointedly towards the closed bathroom door. “He’s having like… a crisis. There was lots of shouting. Jimin-hyung’s just worried though.”

Yoongi nods, then makes his way over to sharply knock at the door.

When no response comes, he clears his throat.

“Taehyung, open the door for hyung.”

He’s preparing himself to say more, something even remotely convincing, when the door is unlocked. He wastes no time slipping into the bathroom, frowning down at Taehyung as the other takes a seat over the closed toilet. He’s dressed only in a tank top and wide-fitting short shorts; most likely the outfit he’d slept in.

Yoongi can see the lines of where Taehyung’s short sleeves had reached yesterday, below his shoulders. His skin is noticeably darker past the line.

“It’s bad, right?” Taehyung whispers loudly. Either presuming that Jimin or Jungkook had filled Yoongi in, or because he considered the state of his skin so bad that it would speak for itself.

“It’s not a big deal at all.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Taehyung says in a whine. Then, a bit bitterly, adds, “besides, it’s not like you’d understand. You’re as pale as the untouched snow, no matter what.”

Yoongi can’t help but to smirk at that.

“I promise no one is going to think I look attractive just because I’m pale. The same way no one is going to write you off as unattractive because you’re a little darker than usual.”

“You look perfect,” Taehyung says in another whisper, eyes wide and honest.

Yoongi looks away, uncomfortable. He knows handsomeness has never been his selling point. Becoming an idol hadn’t changed that. That was fine with him, he was willing and able to communicate his charms through his verses alone.

“I don’t. None of us do. You look great as you are. Tan or no tan.”

Taehyung sighs, and it sounds like a colossal effort. Like he hasn’t been able to breathe out in years. His eyes raise to the ceiling, and Yoongi looks away when he notices Taehyung is attempting to blink tears away.

“I’m supposed to support Jin-hyung with the visuals. You get that, right? And he’s just like, generally better at being an adult and he actually took care of his skin while we were here. And I failed.”

Yoongi leans back against the door.

“Even if I were to accept the premise that you look worse when tanned, which I don’t. Still wouldn’t mean what matters most is your visuals. It’s not a big deal. Truly. By the time winter rolls around, you’ll be as pale as you can be, anyway.”

Taehyung puts his head down into his hands with a deep groan.

“Hyung… You know the shooting for the next music video is in two weeks, right? I’m going to be like this, and it’s going to be recorded and put out there forever. And… and what if there are new fans and they just automatically don’t like me because of it?”

“Sounds pretty dumb.” When that doesn’t get any reaction out of Taehyung, Yoongi moves into the room, settling himself over the edge of the bathtub to be near Taehyung and to rest a hand over his shoulder. “Can I tell you something way worse than what you just described?”

Taehyung shrugs.

“You know the end of the choreography? I have to dance in the front line. With Jungkook and Jimin. And that’s going to be recorded and kept online forever. Me. Dancing in the front row. With Jimin and Jungkook.”

This time, Taehyung actually laughs. Eyes almost glittering as they land on Yoongi.

“You actually still have time to master the choreography. I really have no time to lose the tan though.”

“Even if I master the choreography… I’ll still be dancing like myself, which is not front row material.” Taehyung looks a little less closed-off now, lips quirked upwards and everything. “Say, won’t you help me practice once we’re back in Seoul?”

“With the choreography?”

“Yes.”

Taehyung tilts his head, the shadows of a slight smile vanishing easily. “Me? Why not Hoseok-hyung? Or, Jungkook and Jimin can help you match their style.”

“I like your style.” He smacks Taehyung’s thigh when he pulls a face at those words. “Hey! None of that. I mean it. You know how those things are. Someone’s favourite dancer doesn’t have to be the best dancer. The same goes with vocals, rap, too. I like the feeling you put into your dancing. So? How about you coach me?”

“Alright…” Taehyung answers hesitantly, as if confused about the fact that they weren’t still discussing the colour of his skin.

Yoongi smiles encouragingly as he stands up, offers his hand for Taehyung to take. Taehyung’s grip is light when he does, but he follows docilely when Yoongi leads him out of the bathroom.

When they return in the room, Jungkook sits up quickly, putting his phone face down.

“Taehyung? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stressed you out with tanning. You look great.”

Yoongi stands back, surprised by Jungkook’s intervention.

Taehyung surprises Yoongi even more so when he answers, “I know. Yoongi-hyung just spent like a full ten minutes telling me how handsome I am!” 

Yoongi feels it when he flushes in response. It’s an all-encompassing feeling, even the back of his neck burns with the embarrassment.

Still, he sucks it up, stands tall as he says, “I could have gone longer. But we’re leaving soon. Taehyung, make sure Jimin packed everything you have. And make sure to thank him when you see him.”

“Yes, hyung,” Taehyung answers diligently.

Yoongi doesn’t look to see if Taehyung is smiling. But, he can imagine what it would look like very well.

Dubai — March 28, 2016

Yoongi had asked about when their food would be ready at least half a dozen of times. Both staff members, and even Namjoon, had flagged their waiter down multiple times as their wait time had quickly approached the hour-mark.

By the time the plates were served before them, he’d been in a sour mood, annoyance momentarily shadowing the magical feeling that had coursed through him during their stay. But, not more than a handful of minutes after they’d dug into their food, echoing music boomed across the lake before the Burj Khalifa.

A hush, and then excited whispers spread throughout the restaurant’s customers. It only took a couple beats of classical, yet contemporary, and noticeably Arabic melodious bars for all seven members to be captivated by the Dubai Fountain show. Yoongi can only guess they were meant to have watched the show once they’d completed the meal, and not as soon as they were able to take a bite.

However, Yoongi has absolutely no trouble forgetting his sourness. The lake is so vast. The jets’ arabesques and tangents so mesmerizing. As if every jet is part of a sophisticated troupe of dancers, every flow and shape accompanying the music expertly, and complementing all other shapes traced across the water. He’s fascinated by how water seems to take different textures under the harsh lights of the show.

It’s a fitting finale to their stay — much better than grouchily waiting for food on empty stomachs.

On their first day, the desert. Of course, he’d felt small in the setting. Even surrounded by lights, cameras, the full team, he’d felt insignificant. Just as he would swimming into the ocean, or lying back and taking in the full vastness of the night sky. But the dunes, the ever changing colours of the skies, that had all been so atypical. Something pulled right out of a work of fiction.

On the second day, making their way through the marketplace, haggling for different items. Everything had been so foreign and yet… Yet, it had felt so familiar, just as if he had been shopping in Dongdaemun. People lived in such different environments and yet at their core, they felt so similar, no matter where.

And now this, the perfectly choreographed spectacle before them.

He’s satisfied.

And later, after they’ve finished clearing their plates, all well-fed but still giddy, the spectacle begins again. This time, he watches his members instead. The variations of the water were already engrained in his mind. He was ready to draw inspiration from the people closest to him instead. Just as he’d drawn inspiration from all the experiences the last few days had provided.

Jungkook and Taehyung are playing around with the filming crew. Seokjin watches on, looking reserved but endeared. Hoseok and Jimin keep elbowing each other to try to get to the best spot for the best angle for the best video of the view. Namjoon’s eyes are fixed on the surrounding cityscape, rather than on the actual show. Yoongi can understand that. Such a phenomenon amidst the bustle of the city is a contrast he can’t quite look away from.

So, he’s not really looking forward to the final shoot of the day. Filling out the diary was cumbersome in the first place, but doing it on camera was even heavier of a burden.

Strategically, he chooses to take a luxurious bath as soon as they arrive at the hotel, thus giving himself more time to unwind. To shed his poetic musings away to instead capture a mindset to write a mundane diary entry. His roommate for the stay, Namjoon, seems ready to imitate him, and is quick to claim the bathroom for a shower after Yoongi’s extended bath. By the time the staff arrives at their room with the equipment, Namjoon is still locked inside the bathroom, and Yoongi is only dressed in the hotel’s fancy and pillowy bathrobe.

He makes quick work of his entry. He was annoyed at the wait time for the food. The fountain show made up for it. The show wasn’t as impressive the second time. He withholds the fact that his members’ bright expressions, illuminated by the nightscape’s lighting, had appeared like some sort of lucid dream. Their faces strangely otherworldly beautiful, despite their obvious familiarity, and shaking Yoongi with the thought of “yes, this is the life you are now leading.”

The others know he’s sentimental. But, he prefers to let their fans know that through his lyrics and melodies rather than through a diary entry. It feels too overt, maybe too crude.

He manages small talk with the crew for a few minutes. Nonetheless, he is tired, ready to have some non-work time before falling asleep. And so, maybe impatiently, he knocks at the bathroom door.

“Namjoon, everyone’s waiting for you to end their work day.”

He says it rather dispassionately, but he catches a few grateful looks as he moves back into frame a final time to retrieve his diary.

He doesn’t recognize the employee he hands the diary to. He’d like it if he could walk the hallways at work and recognize everyone, work with everyone on a know-each-other’s-name-basis. It used to be that way, especially when they had still been trainees. Lately, the days bleed into one another and he’s lost track of who comes and goes.

He watches as the woman lifts the top diary in the stacked pile resting on the coffee table to insert Yoongi’s. Her fingers walk further down the pile, takes out the diary that’s fourth from the top — Namjoon’s, then. Just as she moves away to set down the last diary to be filled on the desk, Namjoon emerges from the bathroom, seeming content and in high spirits.

He feels a strangely fond feeling seeing the diaries so neatly stacked, each diary having its own place.

Impulsively, he picks up the top diary. He keeps quiet, knowing the crew is rolling again. Namjoon isn’t saying much though, diligently drawing, or maybe writing. Yoongi wonders if he should maybe head over and interact with Namjoon, to give the editors something to work with. Instead, he flips the pages of the first diary until he reaches the most recent update.

Yoongi covers his mouth as he’s unable to keep back a snort of laughter. Seokjin’s entry was a little boastful, clamouring the fact that he’d finally stayed at a seven-star hotel, that he was living a successful life. That he’s accomplished almost everything now. Yoongi shakes his head, still feeling quite fond. The stick figure Seokjin had drawn was standing in such an odd position, he laughed a bit more thinking of the real-life Seokjin actually taking such a pose.

Yoongi puts the diary back down, walks his fingers down just as the woman had done before him, slides out Hoseok’s diary. Yoongi feels satisfied to see that Hoseok had also chosen the fountain show as his highlight. He takes a few moments to stare at the drawing portion, unsure if Hoseok had meant to draw the stars or if he had really meant to make the Burj Khalifa look gleaming and glittering under the moonlight and the city’s lights.

Jimin’s diary is next. Again, the fountain show seems to be the starring moment. Jimin’s drawing is quite creative. A close-up of the water-jets, with almost impressionist colours. Yoongi surely would have mistaken the drawing for a flower, had it not been for surrounding circumstances. Yoongi likes it, and, at this point, wonders if Taehyung and Jungkook too will have written about the fountain’s beauty.

He looks at Taehyung’s drawing first. The scratches of blue across the page give him pause. He’ll later blame it on his tired brain that it takes him a full minute to understand that the drawing depicted the games they had played in the hotel’s pool — much earlier on in the day. That already felt like a lifetime ago.

Yoongi smiles, letting out an amused sound, but quickly quiets down as he realizes Namjoon has finally decided to describe his work to the cameras.

Still, he continues to smile, amazed at Taehyung’s preserved childlike wonder. Aside from Seokjin, everyone else had seemed to concentrate on today’s grand finale. However, Taehyung seemed focused on the games they played as a group, as a unit.

Yoongi’s smile feels a little frozen as he takes in Taehyung’s accompanying words.

I hate the swimming pool. I’m older.

We went to the swimming pool to play a game, but we lost because of my mistake. We played the second game, and I tried harder to win this time. But I don’t remember what game we played. Anyway, we still lost. Jungkook was being too competitive. I remember how he looked at me. I’m older. I don’t like the swimming pool anymore.

He lets out a silent, “huh?” as he flips the diary to the first pages instead.

First pages: Taehyung’s excitement for staying at a hotel like this. That seemed more fitting, the Versace Hotel had all the glamour of locations that felt too grandiose for them. The sort of environment Taehyung somehow seemed to fit into without much effort.

The next pages: mentions of the day being “good” and “fun” were littered across the pages. Yoongi’s smile returns, a little gentler this time, as he reads about Taehyung and Seokjin dancing in exchange for free ice cream. Taehyung had in fact excitedly mentioned it when they had all been reunited after the visit to the market, Seokjin had laughed through his embarrassment, the tips of his ears bright red in colour.

The last pages: this swimming pool affair.

He’s not sure where this entry really comes from. Taehyung had been in a good mood at the restaurant. Jungkook and Taehyung had stood with their arms linked, trying to blurt out the same sentences at the same time for the cameras, and melting into uncontrollable fits of giggles whenever they failed to pull off the synchronization. It hadn’t felt like there was bad blood between them. Everything had looked pretty great.

He wonders if maybe Taehyung had just written this entry to imitate the style of a grade-schooler. That was often Yoongi’s go-to when writing these things. However, Taehyung’s two other entries are bright, filled with mentions of happiness and excitement. Today’s entry doesn’t contain anything positive.

Yoongi reaches for the last diary in the pile, hoping to make sense of it from Jungkook’s perspective.

Jungkook’s last entry isn’t helpful. It’s his usual four-frame comic-styled drawing that illustrates his day. It’s easy for everyone to see that Jungkook’s the most skilled with a pencil. Jungkook does mention the pool, because that’s his style; he likes to document and chronicle the entirety of his day. But the only reference to their games was Hoseok’s hilarious performance in charades. Yoongi agrees that Hoseok had been shockingly efficient, and unbearably funny in his interpretations of film titles.

There’s no mention of feeling upset over a lost game. The only upset feelings Jungkook writes about are those related to leaving Dubai.

Taehyung’s writing hadn’t really mentioned anything about Dubai specifically. It really was just about Jungkook’s competitiveness and the lost game.

Yoongi can’t help it. He can’t stand the thought of all of them but one holding precious memories of their trip. The thought of the last day leaving a bitter taste on one of the members’ tongue makes him want to… makes him feel… he’s not quite sure. But, he doesn’t like it.

He’s not entirely sure that Namjoon’s filming has wrapped up, but he calls out to him anyway.

“Namjoon, can we have like a midnight pool party?”

“Pool party?” Namjoon repeats back slowly, as if distracted.

He seems to be scribbling a few more details down, before turning to actually face Yoongi, an inquisitive look on his face. A few of the staff members in the room are wearing similar expressions.

“Do you think we could go take one last dip in the pool? The members and crew and staff and all?”

A few faces brighten around Yoongi. As tired and overworked as they felt at times, Yoongi didn’t miss the long hours employees from the company pulled alongside them. How they didn’t necessarily reap the same benefits that the members did. They probably hadn’t dipped a toe in the pool once so far.

“The pool?” Namjoon repeats again, holding off for a moment, as if expecting Yoongi to fill in the blank. “Hyung, the pool closed hours ago.”

Yoongi looks down, thinks.

He’d suggested it, hoping to quickly replace Taehyung’s negative memory with a better one. Where everyone is having fun, and Taehyung doesn’t feel as if he’s underperformed or isn’t respected by their maknae. It had seemed natural to use the swimming pool for that. He supposes he could come up with something else for them to all be together and bring a smile to Taehyung’s face.

But hadn’t they done that already? At the restaurant? And yet, Taehyung had still come back to the hotel with those sorts of thoughts at the forefront of his mind. Or so it looked like to Yoongi, anyway.

“They shut off the other guests’ access for our shoot earlier today. I’m sure we can get special access if we explain it’s for work purposes.”

Namjoon’s expression at those words is easy to read. His scrunched up features tell Yoongi “But, this isn’t for work purposes.” Yoongi thinks that helping create memories for members who might bottle up negative feelings is work-related. He’s not quite comfortable sharing his motivations, though.

“Can you just spread the word. Namjoon? Everyone else, too? I’ll talk to the front desk, I’ll get something sorted.”

Yoongi isn’t sure why he made that promise. He’ll need an interpreter with him to get that kind of access. Luckily, Namjoon is already there, has already spotted the issue.

“I’ll go to the front desk, hyung. You should spread the word instead. You seem to know more than I do why a midnight pool party is at all needed.”

Namjoon’s words don’t hold too much aggression. Proof of that is that he’s quick to share an excited smile when Yoongi absolutely beams at him.

Yoongi kicks his legs in the water. Despite instigating the whole thing, he’d had no interest in fully getting into the pool. The water was cold during the day, and it was much colder now in the middle of the night. Namjoon had given him a number of dark looks whenever a staff member had mentioned the possibility of one of them falling ill.

It wasn’t much of a party. Hotel management had asked them to keep the noise at a minimum, which they’d done. But, the atmosphere had led to many leaving a few minutes into the impromptu get-together.

Yoongi still feels like he’s accomplished his mission. The three youngest members had all enjoyed the water the most. Trying to do cartwheels in the shallow-end of the pool, playing several games of “who can hold their breath the longest” (Yoongi had noticed Taehyung had won every game of that, and had hoped that meant the activity wouldn’t make him unhappy), and took turns piggybacking one another through the pool.

There was maybe less than ten people left by now. Namjoon had gone to bed already. Seokjin and Hoseok had dried off a while ago, but looked content to sit by the ledge — quite similar to Yoongi — and speak in quiet hushes. Right now, Jimin and Jungkook seemed busy trying to measure who could kick their legs faster than the other. Taehyung was out of sight, but not for long at all. In fact, in the time it takes for Yoongi to notice his absence, he’s reemerged, right before Yoongi’s legs.

Yoongi’s instinct is to pull his legs out of the water, afraid that Taehyung will grab his ankles and pull him under. Instead, he kicks some water into Taehyung’s face. He doesn't seem affected at all, what with already being thoroughly soaked. His hair is all but plastered to his skull, drops of water sliding down his face as he stares intensely at Yoongi.

“Yes?” Yoongi eventually asks him when Taehyung makes no other movement.

He wouldn’t have said anything had he been able to look away. But he wasn’t. He was too preoccupied with trying to read Taehyung’s emotional state by the look of his eyes alone. It proved to be fairly inconclusive.

“You came by our room to invite us. Some of the staff told me this was your idea. You haven’t been in the water though.”

Taehyung’s eyes are large. They look even larger when his eyelashes are as wet as they are now. They don’t give away much.

“I’m happy like this. Just with my feet in the water.”

Yoongi belatedly realizes that Taehyung had been treading water during that entire moment when he finally swims forward and crosses his arms over the ledge, cheek moving to rest heavily on Yoongi’s right thigh.

Yoongi reaches out to smooth Taehyung’s hair backwards and out of his face, a face that still remains inscrutable.

“That seems like such a you thing to say, somehow,” Taehyung muses aloud, not looking that interested yet to swim back to the other end of pool to continue playing with Jungkook and Jimin.

Yoongi doesn’t spend too much time thinking of what Taehyung meant by his words.

“And you, Taehyung? Have you stopped hating the pool yet?”

He’s a little surprised when Taehyung doesn’t offer much of a reaction. Taehyung at least finally looks away, which is a relief. It’s easy to forget how large and intense Taehyung’s eyes are when they’re not directly looking at Yoongi. Aside from that, his lips curl a bit further down. The weight of his head on Yoongi’s thigh becomes a little heavier.

“Everyone treats me like a child. Even Jungkook.”

And that’s all he says. He’s clearly understood that Yoongi’s read his diary, without his permission, but says nothing of it. Doesn’t react at all to that fact. His voice lacks any kind of real emotion that would help Yoongi decide whether or not this whole setup was a good or bad idea.

Yoongi thinks Taehyung might be right. If he were asked who was most childlike in their group, he’d surely think of Taehyung before Jungkook. It’s nothing bad. Maybe it’s something good. Something in the way that Taehyung enjoys things fully, or doesn’t bother hiding it when he doesn’t enjoy them. The way the things he enjoyed could sometimes be things that have lost their shine and have become dull in Yoongi’s eyes as he’s grown older.

He doesn’t want to share that. Doesn’t want to accidentally push Taehyung to lose that quality.

Instead, he says, “Jungkook’s so close to you that he forgets you’re not same-age friends.”

Taehyung pouts. He’s getting easier to read. Yoongi thinks Taehyung might be disappointed in his answer.

“Except that he likes to treat me like I’m younger, not like we’re same age.”

Yoongi hums as he thinks over that. He’s never really noticed that kind of dynamic between the two, but he can’t say he’s been paying particular attention to that. As he reflects, he feels it when Taehyung’s teeth start chattering. The pool is too cold, and Taehyung hasn’t moved away from him in a while.

Yoongi curls a hand over the back of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung’s skin is cold and wet, but Yoongi hopes the warmth of his palm can help.

“You know, I’ve heard you accidentally call both Jungkook and Jimin hyung.” 

“I’m mostly surrounded by hyungs, it’s natural.”

“Is it? Don’t think it’s happened to anyone else. Not even me. And I only had one hyung at home and no dongsaeng.”

Taehyung shrugs, pushes back from the wall of the pool and goes back to treading water.

“So?”

“So…” Yoongi says with a smile, reaching out his hands to drag Taehyung closer back to the edge. He even thinks of pulling Taehyung out of the pool altogether. His lips are starting to look a little bluer. “I think you’re a great dongsaeng. You know, playful, adorable, listens well. I think we can forgive Jungkook for — at times — forgetting you’re the older brother.”

At first, Taehyung only nods his head, lips tightly pressed together. Eventually, his expression breaks and, instead, he ends up smiling widely.

Yoongi feels strange. Like that’s an expression he should be paying extra special attention to, but he’s forgotten why exactly.

Yoongi pushes the feeling aside. He’s happy now that Taehyung is smiling more. Maybe this cold, quiet, poorly-attended pool party was a fantastic idea after all.

Palawan — May 2-3, 2017

They’d spent all day on the beach. Now, Yoongi’s mind feels as if it had been fried by the constant sun exposure. His forehead throbs in a way that’s not exactly unpleasant, but that doesn’t leave him with much energy to think or even relax. His body feels both heavy and weightless. Cocooning himself under the bed’s heavy covers hadn’t really helped to weigh him down or anything like that.

They’d been ushered to change into their personal pyjamas for the night’s last shoot, to be conducted by the infinite pool just outside of their luxurious rooms.

Yoongi shared this suite’s king bed with Hoseok. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice, the bed was definitely big enough to contain three of them.

Across the living room, in the second bedroom, Jungkook and Jimin had taken the two queen beds.

So, when he’d taken a seat in the bed — under the covers, but still sitting up against the padded headboard to avoid falling asleep — he hadn’t been bothered by Hoseok joining him. When Yoongi had asked him to, Hoseok had even crossed the room to get him his phone. They’d sat like that for a few blissful moments, at the very opposite ends of the bed, Hoseok looking much more comfortable than Yoongi actually felt, and leading silent battles against the lodge’s wifi.

He understood why Hoseok might take the half hour downtime they have in their shared bed, especially when he was doing the same. He understood a little less why both Namjoon and Taehyung had raced into the room and had face dived into the bed mere minutes later.

For the nth time, Yoongi turned off his phone. Hoping that the reboot would give him the one-minute access to the web to actually load the article he was attempting to read. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a melodramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I think Taehyung here might be a bad influence on our leader.”

Hoseok scrunches up his nose, but barely glances up from his phone. “You better have washed before racing back here. I don’t want to be sleeping in your sweat.”

Yoongi looks over, feels a bit like he’s outside in the sun again as he listens to Taehyung’s excited giggles, watches the way he pushes at Namjoon’s shoulder as the latter responds with a bright smile.

“Maybe I’m the bad influence,” Namjoon offers then.

Yoongi’s “uh huh” is notably unconvinced.

Taehyung drops onto his side, curls right up against Yoongi’s form as he faces Namjoon.

“See, we’re fitting four no problem. It would be so fun tonight. We could all sleep in hyung’s bed.”

“Seokjin-hyung?” Hoseok clarifies without missing a beat.

Taehyung nods, and Yoongi lets out a breath of relief. He’d thought Taehyung had meant all four of them here, rather than him and Namjoon on Seokjin’s own king-sized mattress.

“I’m perfectly fine with the current sleeping arrangement, Taehyung.” Namjoon directs his next words to Yoongi and Hoseok instead, moving his head to face both of them in turn. “Have I told you guys? Ever since we got to the new dorms, he always finds a reason to sleep in my bed.”

“Yeah, but then you go sleep in mine. So, it’s not like we share a bed. Besides, we haven’t been in the dorms for over two months now.”

Yoongi can’t help it. He presses closer against Taehyung’s curled up body. Taehyung doesn’t react. Doesn’t tense up, doesn’t move away, doesn’t even glance back at Yoongi.

Yoongi felt for Taehyung. He knew the other was a little homesick. They’d launched their tour abroad in March. Instead of maximizing their downtime between the American leg and the Asian leg of the tour, they’d flown off to Hawaii to shoot Bon Voyage.

Now, tightly squeezed between Jakarta and Pasay performances, they were shooting their Summer Package. It’s been a lot of work, and a lot of time away from both their families and just life as they know it at home.

“I do miss Korean wifi,” Namjoon adds, as if sensing that the mood had shifted to longing for home. “Any luck in here?”

Hoseok puts his phone down over his stomach. He looks irritated. For some reason, Yoongi can only laugh at the sight, also putting his phone down over his lap.

“We should probably use this time to nap. Even though I won’t rest until this one message, just this one sentence, is sent to my noona.”

“Oh, are you sending the group picture we took at the beach to Dawon?” Namjoon asks.

“I’m trying.”

Yoongi looks down. Taehyung is still curled up against him, the line of his body shaped like a comma. As if triggered by the word “nap”, Taehyung’s eyes had fluttered shut. If Yoongi moves his hand just so, the back of it touches the silk of Taehyung’s pyjamas. The fabric feels cool and nice against Yoongi’s skin. He momentarily fantasizes about resting his throbbing forehead on Taehyung’s back, so that that feeling of coolness spreads throughout his skull.

For now, he decides to run his hand up and down Taehyung’s back. If he goes up far enough, his fingers touch Taehyung’s hair at the back of his neck. It feels extremely soft. Yoongi wonders if Taehyung had used the hotel conditioner as he had, or if he’d stuck to products that he'd carried with him for travel. Yoongi hasn’t used his usual brand since they’d left Korea.

He’d thought Taehyung had fallen asleep, just like that. Because all seven of them are experts at doing that. Sleeping in waiting rooms, in cars, on planes, while stylists worked on their faces and hair. But, Taehyung turns his head to stare up at Yoongi, smile small and looking a bit sleepy after all.

“Doesn’t it kind of feel like we’re finally rooming together for one of these things?”

Taehyung’s train of thought is interrupted by a deep yawn. Yoongi glances over at Namjoon and Hoseok, who are busy comparing pictures on their phones from their first day of shooting. He’s not really sure why he doesn’t want them overhearing Taehyung’s words.

“One of these things?”

“You know. Kota Kinabalu, I was with Jungkook. Last year, Dubai, I was with Hoseok-hyung. Now, actually, I’m with Namjoon-hyung.”

Yoongi’s hand stills over Taehyung’s back. Kota Kinabalu. He feels like he’s forgotten something important from back then. It felt much farther away than two years ago. It felt like a lifetime ago already. But, there had been something. Something related to Taehyung. All he can remember now is Taehyung, in a small bathroom, panicking about his tan.

He knows that’s not it, but that vague memory alone attracts his eyes to Taehyung’s wrists, where they’re peeking out from the blue silk of his pyjamas. Taehyung’s skin looks golden. Definitely tanned, not pale. It looks beautiful. It’s easy to be that beautiful, Yoongi thinks, with those kinds of features.

He averts his eyes.

“Since when are you interested in rooming with me?”

Taehyung’s eyes are shut again. Yoongi starts to believe he won’t get an answer when the silence drags on.

And then, almost mumbled, Taehyung says, “You’re so comfortable.”

Yoongi doesn’t know if Taehyung means that he’s comfortable resting against him right now in this moment. Yoongi imagines, only briefly, that Taehyung means he wants to room with Yoongi because Yoongi feels comfortable, feels like home.

What an absurd thought, he tells himself, as he too closes his eyes and rests his head back against the headboard. He removes his hand away from Taehyung, but his arm is still resting over Taehyung’s back in the new position he takes.

He falls into very light slumber with one question on his mind. What happened in Kota Kinabalu?

Yoongi spends the entirety of the next morning by Taehyung’s side. Alongside Seokjin, they make up the team that’s opted to go scuba diving instead of snorkelling. They spend so much time underwater that he has trouble finding his footing once he’s back on shore.

He barely remembers making it to the beach, but when he wakes up later on, he’s somewhat buried under a pile of sand. Taehyung is completely buried in sand. He’s also wearing the goofiest smile, which makes Yoongi think he might have buried Yoongi before asking someone else to do the same for him to make him look less guilty.

They’re finally separated once they embark onto the banana boat.

It’s at this point that he remembers last night’s question. Remembers that there was a thought, that felt important, that he’d had two years ago about Taehyung. The less he concentrates on the question, the closer the thought feels. Yet, it remains out of reach.

It’s not the banana boat that reminds him.

Not even the sight of Hoseok lagging behind once they’re launched into the water helps jog his memory. Though, as he watches Seokjin swim out to retrieve Hoseok; there is but one word on his mind. Déjà-vu.

Taehyung is actually the penultimate member to climb back onto the banana boat, with Jungkook not far behind. It’s a clumsy affair, Taehyung nearly falling over with every step forward, only saved by other members grabbing onto his hand. Yoongi, maybe in retaliation for how he can still feel sand engrained in every crease of his body, pushes Taehyung when he stumbles near his spot. Pushes Taehyung, once, twice more.

In an unexpected turn of events, Taehyung does not fall. Not even close to it. Instead, he leans onto Namjoon, directly seated in front of Yoongi — and who somehow doesn’t even budge at the weight Taehyung puts on him as he turns around. He turns around just to fall right in between Yoongi and Namjoon. Hands clutching onto Yoongi’s elbows and both knees neatly tucked in beneath Yoongi’s, pressing against his thighs.

As it happens and as Yoongi fears for a fleeting moment that Taehyung is about to collapse onto him directly, he instinctively puts his hands over Taehyung’s thighs. It’s not a light touch, not even a light grip. His hands are fully covering the top of Taehyung’s thighs, and on a further and unexplainable reflex his hands push down and move to grip the back of Taehyung’s thighs instead. It’s but a moment, and he quickly corrects himself to hold onto Taehyung’s waist instead. Taehyung’s now solidly in place, all smiles.

Yoongi thinks Taehyung tries to whine when he says, “What’s wrong with you?”

It’s really not much of a whine at all, because Taehyung is too busy laughing.

Taehyung is wearing the kind of smile Yoongi doesn’t have the words to describe.

That’s when Yoongi remembers. Even though it feels like someone’s thrown a bucket of iced water right into his face, Yoongi’s smile doesn’t wane at all. If anything, it’s amplified with the memory.

Right, that’s the smile that he’d seen on Taehyung’s face in Kota Kinabalu. For a fraction of a second, out in the ocean after they’d been launched off of a banana boat, just as they had been today. Back then, he’d finished their stay thinking that he needed to work harder to see that smile more often. He doesn’t remember when he’d forgotten that thought. But, he certainly feels satisfied that he’s remembered precisely because he had been the one to put that kind of smile on Taehyung’s face again. Yoongi can’t help but to reply to the smile with his best imitation of it.

He doesn’t know what to answer, verbally. He thinks what comes out next is some strange sort of defence mechanism he’s only recently developed.

He starts singing the chorus to the Sweet Sorrow song; No Matter How I Think About It. Only a few words, but it’s enough that it has Taehyung laughing a little more.

He glances back at the camera crew, and hesitates awkwardly. The next words from the song die on his tongue. None of the other members are laughing around them. He’s relieved when Taehyung turns around. He goes back to clutching his waist, and tries to shrink his posture to hide his face behind Taehyung’s back.

It’s not difficult to do. Taehyung’s grown taller than him by now. He makes sure to scoot back too, to be a little closer to Jungkook — who must have settled in before Yoongi could even notice — instead of Taehyung.

He’s a little destabilized by how spectacularly quickly his mood has crashed.

What kind of a defence mechanism was it to sing a love song? A song about longing. The number one song Yoongi thinks of when he thinks of love. What kind of person blurts that out when they’re feeling flustered or overwhelmed by affection?

Yoongi doesn’t know if it’s quite been a month already. But it’s embarrassing to think that his realization has been this delayed. It’s embarrassing to come to terms with it when all seven members are sandwiched together on the banana boat.

He closes his eyes, tries to concentrate on the harsh sunlight, on the waves lapping at their feet, on the sound of the motor up ahead, on the feeling of swaying this or that way to keep the members in balance. Still, his mind is frozen. Frozen on that meal in Hawaii that they had shared. Just Taehyung and him. With the production crew by their side, naturally.

But, he felt it so clearly now. That blossoming feeling in his chest at seeing Taehyung — Taehyung who he’d described as the perfect dongsaeng, who always found a way of viewing others around him as his elders, regardless of actual age — deliberately taking care of Yoongi. Pouring the last spoonful into Yoongi’s bowl when he’d mentioned it would be the best last spoon of the year. Handing over the egg yolk without being prompted to. Just smiling shyly when Yoongi had burst out into that same song, even back then.

How many times has Yoongi told the younger members that he would be full just watching them eat? How many times had he sacrificed his own serving portions when the budget had been more than a little tight? Yoongi hasn’t kept count, but he can’t recall ever seeing Taehyung treat anyone the way he’d treated Yoongi that day.

All he can think to himself now is “Shit”.

Because it hadn’t just made Yoongi feel special, he belatedly realizes.

It had made his god damned stupid heart fall for Taehyung. 

Yoongi shouldn’t feel cold. Everyone in his suite had agreed to keep the air conditioner turned off. The weather was hot here. Truly, hot. That had been commented on in nearly every other sentence uttered by the members throughout the day. Yet, Yoongi had buried himself in the covers up to his chin. Whilst Hoseok slept soundly, flat on his stomach and over the covers.

Yoongi feels so cold. He feels the hair on his arms standing on end. He feels like all that water he’d drank before heading to bed hadn’t gone down at all and now was flooding his chest, too cold and too filling. He’s cold, but his palms feel slick with sweat. His face feels flushed, but when he brings the back of his hand up to his forehead, it’s as cold as he feels.

Shit.

He’s frustrated. Frustrated because he can’t get past that first mental roadblock, that first overwhelming and echoing internal voice that screams out “Shit!” when he tries to think of Taehyung’s smile, of Taehyung overtly showing care for Yoongi.

“Hoseok!”

It’s probably too late into the night for him to be waking Hoseok up like this. He’s hoping that it’s just his state of distress that’s made it seem as if several eternities have passed since their room had fallen into a deep silence. He’s hoping that Hoseok has only been asleep for a couple of minutes. 

He’s hoping the reason it takes Hoseok so long to stir and to reply to his chanting of “Hobi, Hobi, Hobi,” is that they’d exhausted themselves with aquatic sports. And not because Hoseok had already fallen into a deep slumber.

“What time? Can sleep more?” comes Hoseok’s groggy response, as if believing that Yoongi was waking him up for their last day of shooting, rather than this. Whatever this was.

“Hobi,” Yoongi whispers, really pushing his gentle tone, “What do you think of sleeping in a bed alone tonight? You could go in the suite with the air conditioner too. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Huh?” There’s some shifting, and then a very loud exhale of breath from Hoseok. He rubs the insides of his wrists against his eyes, still shut with sleep. Yoongi takes the moment to forget about his obvious panic to feel endeared, to try to pat down the unruly strands of Hoseok’s hair.

“I need to speak with hyung. Can you go over there, tell him to come over? Then you can sleep in his bed by yourself. Sound like a fair deal?”

It takes several moments and a few muttered sounds from Hoseok that Yoongi knows — from years of practice — are supposed to be words, but aren’t yet quite comprehensible. Nonetheless, Hoseok eventually manages to be awake enough to give Yoongi what is recognizably Hoseok’s most open expression of concern.

“Is something going on? You can talk to me, too, you know?”

“I know,” Yoongi offers softly. He knows he would feel safe opening up to any of the members; even if it were Taehyung, somehow. Seokjin is most accustomed to him though. They’re both naturally reserved, have similar interests, have been roommates for such an extended period of time. In fact, Yoongi couldn’t picture a better roommate.

So, Seokjin just feels most comfortable. And right now, Yoongi feels so uncomfortable, so out of his depth. He just wants Seokjin here to laugh at him and to put his worries at ease.

“You still want hyung?” Hoseok asks when Yoongi doesn’t manage to say anything more.

Yoongi purses his lips, nods slowly.

“We just have like… roommate telepathy, you know?”

Hoseok laughs, and Yoongi feels soothed, charmed that Hoseok would accept being kicked out of his room in the middle of the night, without much of an explanation, but still with a smile on his face.

“I know what you mean. I’m going to have to strain my telepathy now that you’re pushing me away from Jimin.”

Hoseok shoves at Yoongi’s shoulder affectionately, slides his feet into his slippers, and picks up his pillow. Yoongi doesn’t know why he would drag a hotel pillow with him, but he doesn’t question it further.

Instead, Yoongi reverts to his previous position, slides way down under the covers, and promptly forgets any warm feelings he’d experienced thinking of Hoseok’s ever understanding nature, or Seokjin’s quiet, yet comforting presence.

By the time Seokjin appears at the door, Yoongi is back to feeling cold, goosebumps raised across his skin, and mind still halting to a stop whenever he attempts to get past the initial thought of “shit, how could this have happened?”

“Hyung.”

His plaintive tone does not grant him the desired effect. Seokjin’s expression doesn’t shift. Yoongi pouts, still hoping to project the pathetic image of someone who is in dire need of saving.

Seokjin doesn’t seem to buy it, but still enters the room and takes up Hoseok’s spot, sitting casually, head leaned back against the headboard.

“Did you know that I’m the only one who tried every single sport today?”

Yoongi tries to wipe his palms against his pyjama pants without being noticed. Even though the motion is under the covers, he feels awkward, as if every movement he makes is extremely loud. And why wouldn’t it be when Seokjin is barely moving?

“I did know that, hyung. You’ve mentioned it no less than twenty times.”

Seokjin hums.

“Scuba diving, snorkelling, wakeboarding, water skying… Didn’t you only do one of those?”

Yoongi gives a short, exasperated laugh.

“You know that I did, because I did it with you.”

“And I’m also the one who had to drag my tired body over here. So, tell me, Yoongi, why is it that you’re the one who looks completely out of it?”

Seokjin has finally cracked a smile. It’s teasing, reassuring, but… but, it’s also concerned. The sight of it worries Yoongi, who now wonders if things are possibly even worse than he’d been thinking.

“I realized I’ve got a big problem.”

“All of a sudden?”

“Kind of.”

When Seokjin raises his eyebrows, Yoongi only grimaces.

“And now it’s all you can think of, so you can’t get to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s not something you can rid yourself of by writing a song?”

“Oh, god, no. Never.”

If No Matter How I Think About It was his coverup song for his feelings, he’s very certain he doesn’t want to imagine what an actual song about his feelings would sound like.

“Well, if you can’t write about it, your only alternative is to tell me, so that I can reassure you that there is no actual problem.”

“I know,” Yoongi whispers.

Silence.

“Well?”

Deep breath.

“Can you look up at the ceiling while I tell you? Instead of looking at me? And can you make sure I’m done speaking before you reply?”

“Whatever you want.”

Seokjin sounds somewhat annoyed, but when Yoongi looks, Seokjin’s eyes are already raised upwards, and he’s clasped his hands tightly over his lap. He doesn’t look annoyed.

Yoongi feels colder than before. He feels as if all the water he’d drank has multiplied over and over again. He feels like his hands are so wet with sweat now that they’ll stain the covers.

Deeper breath.

“Can you tell me… Is it like super obvious that I… Is it super obvious that I like Taehyung?”

He pauses, wonders if that’s not clear enough. What does “like” even mean? He likes all his members. Hell, he loves all his members. He’s not sure how to put this in a way that won’t result in Seokjin just plainly asking him what the actual issue is.

He watches Seokjin’s face closely. His expression hasn’t changed. He’s certainly not showing any signs that he’s understood that Yoongi’s finished sharing. So, Yoongi supposes that he can’t be finished quite yet.

“Is it easy to tell that I’m attracted to him? That I’m into him? That I’m like weirdly obsessed with his smile? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, that’s really creepy, right? Those aren’t even like standard romantic feelings to have, right? Ok, can you reply like right now, because I’m scared of what else I might say.”

Thankfully, Seokjin does just that.

“No. No, I can’t tell that, it’s not super obvious, and, clearly, if I can’t tell — then, no. It’s not easy to tell.”

Well, that covered everything. Yoongi inhales and it sounds embarrassingly loud and desperate.

“And even now that I’ve told you, it hasn’t become like obvious in hindsight?”

“No,” Seokjin replies as smoothly, eyes still towards the ceiling. “If anything, you’ve only reminded me that Taehyung isn’t actually eighteen anymore. It’s hard sometimes to remember that he’s grown up quite a bit. I just have so many memories of him playing around. But, he’s much more serious these days.” Seokjin nearly looks back down, but seems to catch himself. “I definitely would have thought that’s how you saw him, too. Even after what you just said.”

Yoongi resists the urge of asking if that makes him even creepier. He’s fairly sure everyone knows that Taehyung’s looks are stunning. But it’s something that’s easy to forget when you’ve seen a person in every state. When you’ve been locked in a studio with someone for hours, to the point of nearly passing out. When you’ve showered side by side while still being awkward teenagers. When you’ve helped the other wash ice cream out of his jeans’ pockets because he’d been spotted by a manager when clearly breaching the company-mandated diet.

Overall, he’s fairly sure the others see Taehyung innocently. Like a younger brother who is sometimes moody, but mostly brimming with love, energy, playfulness…

Yoongi sees Taehyung.

Sees him as the person with the most beautiful smile.

As this person who is so easy to care for. But, somehow, who cares for Yoongi in a way that makes him feel light, flustered, agitated.

Yoongi puts his hands over his face. This is bad.

“That’s not how I see him.” He breathes in, tries to cut off his words there, then doesn’t. “I like him so much. So much more than I’m even able to say right now. I think I’m going to throw up.”

Seokjin ends up with his arms around Yoongi, and Yoongi manages to hide his face against Seokjin’s shoulder instead. The embrace feels more protective than it does comforting.

Seokjin doesn’t say anything up until the point where Yoongi is nearly hyperventilating.

At that point, he simply tells him, “I promise, I’ll let you know if it ever gets obvious.”

Speaking to Seokjin, however, had more or less unblocked his mind. And Yoongi was left with too many examples of his obviousness.

Pitifully, he tells Seokjin, “But, in Hawaii. I told him we had to hold hands if we disagreed. I came up with that. And then I disagreed with him almost immediately. God, this shit’s so embarrassing.”

Seokjin pats his back instead of saying more.

It might be a good thing. Had Seokjin contradicted him, Yoongi had already summoned an impressive reserve of other embarrassing examples.

Saipan — June 27, 2018

“For our more comfortable swimmers, you can take off your life jackets.”

Yoongi’s surprised Jungkook hasn’t ripped off the straps of his jacket with how quickly he’d thrown it to the ground. Taehyung isn’t far behind. For some reason though, the expression drawn on Taehyung’s face looks something close to seductive.

It’s disarming in a way that has Yoongi turning to face Hoseok instead. Hoseok misunderstands the abrupt change in Yoongi’s point of focus and wildly shakes his head in reply.

“Are you crazy? This baby is definitely staying on.”

It’s funny enough that Yoongi is at least distracted, snickering as he recalls their morning with the jetovators. Yoongi himself had complained about hating spending time in water, and then had effectively spent all of that activity in the water, as he’d never managed to properly lift off as the younger members had before him. Yes, he would follow Hoseok’s lead on this one.

Jungkook’s “What?” is what draws Yoongi’s attention back to Taehyung. 

Jungkook was giving the other a suspicious look as Taehyung stood, feet apart, fists on his hips, and chest puffed out proudly. It takes Yoongi a few moments to figure out, as he’s distracted by Taehyung’s bleached blonde look. It feels like it’s been a while since Taehyung has been this blonde. He’s pretty sure Taehyung had been quite blonde at the start of the year, when Yoongi’s hair had also been bleached. But Taehyung’s blonde now is a lot lighter. Almost the same shade as when they had promoted Blood Sweat and Tears.

He notices the bold “6” on the front of Taehyung’s jersey just as Taehyung speaks.

“Check it out, I’m everyone’s hyung now.”

Yoongi liked today’s jerseys. They were cute. With lettering in the back specific to each member. He’d had trouble calming down his laughter when he’d seen Hoseok’s “HOPE.JEONG”. The number printed on the front was meant to reflect their ages. With Seokjin at “7”, and everyone else numbered on that basis — the lowest number being Jungkook’s “2”. Yoongi had even thought of keeping his jersey at the end of their day.

But, somehow, it seemed Taehyung was now the one wearing the jersey numbered with the “6”. Yoongi’s.

Yoongi unbuckles his life jacket, without any intention of taking the jacket off completely, to confirm that his chest was now adorned with the number “4”. He didn’t have to check the back to deduce that his jersey now read “T.T.KIM” and not “J.M.PARK”.

“I don’t get it,” Jungkook says, seeming to echo Hoseok’s confusion.

Yoongi buckles his jacket back up, thinking one of them must have put on the wrong jersey when they had arrived at the grotto. They’d worn civilian clothes to grab lunch, but had changed back once the cars had arrived at the parking spot.

Taehyung’s mischievous look makes Yoongi hesitant to qualify this as an accident.

“Not quite, hyung. Don’t let Seokjin-hyung hear you say that, he’s still older than you.”

Hoseok is the one that spins Taehyung around as Taehyung laughs good-heartedly at Yoongi’s light reprimand.

“Ah. Min Suga, huh?” Hoseok asks teasingly as he reveals the bold “S.G.MIN” on Taehyung’s back.

“The one and only! Should I rap something for you?”

“I think not, hyung.” Yoongi momentarily interrupts himself to clear his throat and look away. He’d already called him hyung, he didn’t really have to play along this insistently, did he? “We’re in the middle of shooting, aren’t we? Who wants to jump in first? I think the eldest should.”

Taehyung blanches at that, glancing back over his shoulder.

The sight of the grotto was gorgeous. They’d taken some time before making the long trek down the steep staircase to look down from the viewing deck. The location was really a natural gem, a treasure hidden in plain sight and in its natural state. They’d spent even more time marvelling at the light they could see shining deep within the cave, excited to swim into those clear waters. Still, the rush of water rang loudly and echoed off the grotto’s walls. They’d spent even considerably more time listening to safety directives than they had marvelling at the beauty of the location.

They were snorkelling instead of diving, which seemed to eliminate some important risks. Yet, Yoongi understood Taehyung’s sudden wariness.

Luckily, Jungkook was already checking with the crew that he had the go-ahead to jump in.

“Don’t worry, watch me, hyung. I’ll show you how it’s done!”

Yoongi laughs as he watches Jungkook jump in. The boy still had this sort of effortless weightlessness that made all his jumps, whether in-studio or otherwise, seem gravity-defying. He shakes his head as he plays back Jungkook’s words, confused as to why Jungkook had stressed the word “hyung” so strongly.

Taehyung seemed to agree.

“He’s so mean, acting as if he doesn’t call me hyung already!”

With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung follows. Yoongi watches the movement a little intensely, eyes glued on the way his assigned letters disappear underwater.

“I’ll go next, Hoseok.”

“Hoseok-hyung,” he corrects with a wide smile.

“Not you too,” Yoongi grumbles as he steps closer to the edge.

He looks down. It’s not the highest he’s jumped, and he tries to reassure himself by counting the number of instructors already in the water, and those waiting behind the two of them.

“Oh, come on. You always play along with Taehyung. Show me some love, too!”

Yoongi scrunches up his nose, pretends he’s more concerned with the height than he is with Hoseok’s words. Those had poked at what now feels like a deep-rooted insecurity. The underlying fear that creeps under his skin when anyone looks at him while he’s interacting with Taehyung: what if they can see the way I feel?

“I show you plenty of love… hyung…”

The last word is rushed, barely articulated, and he tries to leap before he hears Hoseok’s protests, but they still follow him as he hits the water. The life jacket makes the impact more uncomfortable than expected, his body jerked upwards as soon as his face goes underwater.

He’s spitting out water as he swims closer to Taehyung and Jungkook. 

“Don’t forget not to swim out into open sea, remember?”

That’s pointed at Jungkook. This group consisted mostly of the more cautious members. Hoseok, on the one hand, who tended to be a little more skittish and jumpy. On the other hand, Taehyung and Yoongi, who just appeared to have developed a healthy fear of injuries over the years. Jungkook, however, was a whole different breed, always rushing headfirst into anything that seemed remotely exciting. 

“I know. They said it like twelve times. And we’re literally surrounded by people.”

Yoongi knows that, but also knows that Jungkook was always disarmingly fast, able to outrun just about any cameraperson they’d met up until now. But, he nods for now, satisfied.

The rest of the outing is phenomenal. Yoongi feels like the leading character of a fantastical story. As if, once he would emerge again from the clear yet glimmering waters, he would find himself in a different world. Maybe only a few details would be off. A universe parallel to the one he’d grown up in thus far.

One might have thought that the crowdedness of the activity would have chipped away at the sensation. Instead, everyone’s presence was like a soothing balm. The companionship of three of his brothers took away any fear he might have felt at resurfacing in a different world. The instructors’ prowess was riveting, and their obvious enjoyment at simply doing their job put Yoongi in an excellent mood. Moreover, the production crew had given them more than enough space thanks to the GoPros all four of them had equipped on their wrists.

Yoongi is so enamoured he even unbuckles his life jacket. Eventually, he takes it off completely. If his sight doesn’t fail him, he’s also noticed Hoseok doing the same. He wants to swim deeper, come closer to the colourful fish, wants to feel one with the majestic location.

So, no. He doesn’t expect the sudden death grip on his arm, and then his shoulder. He sinks quick with the added weight of the person who’s crept up on him.

He’s not one bit amused. The safety training and the horror stories sprinkled throughout it — divers meeting their demise in the grotto apparently was far from unheard of — blared like an alarm in his head as he harshly elbowed the person. From the feel of it, it had been aimed right at their sternum.

Yoongi’s not quite sure what he expects when he turns. Probably Jungkook. Jungkook, hyper and energetic, and surely cutely apologetic for sneaking up on Yoongi. The blonde mane, however, is a dead giveaway. The sight is still confusing because Taehyung’s flailing about now that Yoongi’s pushed him away. His wild movements have drawn an aura of bubbles around him as he seems to fight against drowning.

His instinct is to draw closer and help Taehyung back up to the surface. The obvious curl of Taehyung’s fingers, however, reminds him not to intervene with a drowning man.

He pushes off the bottom. When his head pops out of the water, he momentarily forgets which language he’s supposed to be communicating in with the instructors. What comes out instead is just Taehyung’s name. Apparently, “Taehyung” said with just the right amount of urgency, panic, and distress, in an echoing cave no less, brings about immediate action.

It feels like a flash and Taehyung is already successfully hoisted out of water. One instructor, with quite the impressive build, had linked their arms under Taehyung’s armpits, letting Taehyung lean his weight back into their chest.

The sound of Taehyung violently gasping for breath is like a stake to Yoongi’s heart. He swims quietly behind the group that had fished Taehyung out of the water as they guide him back to the shore. Yoongi watches as Taehyung peels his mask off his face. It had been full of water.

They lay Taehyung down onto his back and Yoongi takes a quick moment to check on the other members. They still seemed to be enjoying snorkelling, unaware of Yoongi’s flash panic. Yoongi pulls himself out of the water and kneels by Taehyung, near an instructor.

His hearing, sense of time, and general awareness seem a little out of synch, because when he blurts out “What if he has an embolism?” he realizes he hadn’t heard a word spoken, and hadn’t even noticed which of the crew members had approached to check on the situation.

Yoongi clears his throat, continues in Korean, despite knowing some persons surrounding Taehyung won’t fully understand.

“Wasn’t that one of the stories they told us? About these two divers who died of embolisms after nearly drowning? That could happen, right?”

Again, he forgets to listen to any answers he might get back, attention hyper-focused on the heaving of Taehyung’s chest.

“So, he needs blood tests, right? Is there a hospital nearby?”

Someone grabs his shoulder, gives it a shake. That doesn’t pull him out of his state though. It’s Taehyung’s cold fingers curling around his wrist — the one that isn’t equipped with the GoPro — that jump him right back to reality.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Taehyung asks weakly.

Things start to get a little less fuzzy. Taehyung looks fine to Yoongi. He recognizes one of their staff members who is trained for medical emergencies, checking on Taehyung’s pulse calmly. Yoongi notices the red imprint the mask left around Taehyung’s eyes.

“Rich coming from the guy who tried to drown me,” Yoongi snaps back.

He doesn’t mean to raise his tone like that. Thankfully, Taehyung doesn’t offer much of a reaction, just slides his thumb over the back of Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi shivers.

“Pretty sure my crazy visuals are needed for the photoshoot later.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but scoots in closer. Now that things have started to process normally again, he notices that no one else is acting panicked. He lets out a breath.

“What was that back there? Did you attack me just because your mask flooded?”

“I couldn’t see. I could have been a goner!”

“Yet, you saw well enough that you could zero in on me.”

Taehyung grumbles something that Yoongi can’t quite catch, but he doesn’t miss the way Taehyung rubs at the centre of his chest. Where Yoongi had elbowed him, no doubt.

“Sorry, can anyone check if he has a cracked rib? That could be really bad. What did you say about nearby hospitals?”

Taehyung looks mildly annoyed, but acts docile enough as their staff member prods at his ribcage, pressing here and there.

“Also, of course I could zero in on you. You’re pale enough to glow in the dark,” Taehyung mentions, sounding a little distracted.

Yoongi rolls his eyes again, but this time he feels himself smile, amused.

“Those waters aren’t even dark.” 

Taehyung blinks. It’s a slow motion, as if he’s dazed. Yoongi has no idea how Taehyung could have been concussed, but he’s ready to bring that up too, until Taehyung speaks up.

“You have the prettiest smile, hyung.”

Yoongi doesn’t think of his next words, nor of their entourage.

He simply admits, tone slow and soft, “You have my favourite smile.”

Taehyung’s fingers clench around his wrist; Yoongi had forgotten that they were wrapped around his wrist in the first place.

“Favourite in the world?” Taehyung asks him, still looking a little out of it.

“Of course.” And then, because he feels too serious and too honest, he adds the sardonic “Hyung.” 

Taehyung genuinely laughs then, sitting up with more energy than Yoongi would have expected.

Taehyung gets the green light to return to the water just as Jungkook calls out from the water.

“Hyung, what’s going on?” Yoongi meets his gaze, smirks when Jungkook lowers his tone, only mouths the last words “Did he like… swim into the open sea?”

Yoongi makes an “OK” sign with his thumb and index.

“All good. My glowing white skin just gave him a fright underwater.”

Taehyung slips his hand into Yoongi’s before he can offer more reassuring words.

“Let’s jump in together this time! It seemed like a struggle for you last time.”

“Only because of the life jacket… It’ll be perfectly executed this time.”

They jump in together. Yoongi’s fingers clench tightly around Taehyung’s. Maybe he could still bring up the possibility of a quick visit to the doctor.

“… three times saltier than the seawater in Korea.”

Yoongi reads out his diary entry to the camera. Eyes skimming down to the last section of the entry. A word for your unit shoot buddy. He knew, technically, it meant a word about the photoshoot they’d had at sunset. His shooting buddies had been Taehyung and Jungkook. Taehyung was a part of that too, so maybe his comment wasn’t too random. Just off-topic.

He continues in the same tone, “It’s dangerous to pull on others when you get water inside your goggles. Let’s be careful, Taehyung.”

It’s natural for him to turn to meet Taehyung’s eye then, who had been diligently writing his own answers down. Despite Yoongi’s even tone, it seemed his words had successfully captured Taehyung’s attention, as he was ready to meet Yoongi’s gaze with a bashful chuckle.

Taehyung’s hair was still damp, as if he’d just left the shower before coming to the shooting room. He wore the pastel pink “I love Saipan” long-sleeved top he’d bought with Hoseok on their first day here. The day Yoongi had spent nearly comatose in his own hotel room. He knew, logically, that the top wasn’t really too tight. But it looked too tight on Taehyung, revealing the actual size and litheness of his frame much more than Taehyung’s usual loose and comfortable wardrobe did. The bracelet Seokjin had given Taehyung for his last birthday was again proudly displayed around his wrist.

Yoongi was willing to bet that Taehyung was heading straight to bed after this.

He turns his attention back to the words he’d written out. He still had a sentence more to share.

“We could all die.”

“I was in fear of my life today!” Taehyung immediately protests. It brings a smile to Yoongi’s lips, who had been certain Taehyung would say nothing back.

Taehyung points at something on the photo Yoongi had glued to his diary entry, but he’s unable to formulate his thought as Yoongi cuts him off teasingly.

“You were in fear of your life? Why would you pull others into the fear! I thought I was going to die.”

Taehyung seems to be in a good mood though, his chuckles continuing through Yoongi’s playful scolding. As Yoongi struggles out of his chair with his completed diary in hand, he looks back at Taehyung. The other’s attention had already returned to his diary. His cheeks looked a little redder though, and the shape of his face, even viewed from the odd angle, showed that he was still smiling.

And that should have been that. End of the day. He’d felt enough as it was.

That had been the plan, of course. He’d wasted no time curling up in bed. It’s just that that stupid jersey had been glaring right back at him from where he’d thrown it over the contents of his open suitcase.

All along, he’d planned on taking the jersey home. It wasn’t his fault that he’d ended the day in Taehyung’s instead. He’d tried to be subtle about it. He wasn’t going to draw attention by asking Taehyung to swap again.

It was just a shame that he couldn’t look away from the “T.T.KIM” lettering now. He liked that nickname, Taetae. It suited Taehyung. It was as cute as he was.

Yoongi had groaned when that thought had formed, flipping himself over to face away from the jersey, a pillow pressed to his face dramatically.

He’d tried to crush down the fondness by recalling how very not cute it had been to look at Taehyung in the grotto, coughing the water out of his lungs.

That strategy had backfired.

He certainly couldn’t sleep now that his brain had settled back on extreme worry. What if his embolism theory had been right? What if Taehyung doesn’t wake up in the morning?

He hadn’t been sure who he was going to go see when he’d stepped out of his bedroom in panic. Maybe Seokjin. Seokjin, who’d kept his secret for more than a year now, though they rarely spoke of it. Maybe Namjoon, who had experience bringing issues to staff’s attention. Maybe the staff itself. Or maybe Taehyung, just to make sure he was still alive and breathing.

It nearly feels as if the universe decides for him when he steps out of his room — room 622 — and Taehyung does the exact same from the next door over.

They both stand frozen for a moment, seemingly shocked by the timing. On Yoongi’s part, it was more so to mourn the fact that he’d rushed out without checking over his outfit. An oversized shirt with an oversized print from Stranger Things (he definitely had too many of those). Which, by itself, wouldn’t be so dramatic. He wore these kinds of things often. Hell, he’d even worn it for this day’s interviews and the diary session. But, combined with only his boxers, he felt a little embarrassed. From the very start of their careers he’d joked that the shape of his legs was more feminine than some girl idols out there. It was just embarrassing to willingly show his legs now, as the years had passed and their shape had remained.

“Hyung. Where are you heading?”

Yoongi hears the implied “dressed like that” as soon as Taehyung’s eyes move downwards.

He crosses his arms, and does his best to cross his feet too, as if that could shield at least part of his legs’ image.

“Just thought I should check up on you.”

Taehyung looks surprised, mouth opening somewhat. His expression morphs into a smile, and he spreads out his arms.

“Here I am,” he declares.

“You?”

“Not super sure, actually.”

Taehyung’s honesty certainly had a way of shaming Yoongi into doing the same. And so, he drops his arms from his chest, and relaxes into a more comfortable position.

“Huh, well… yeah, that was kind of me. I was just worried about your lungs, I guess.”

“Hyung!” Taehyung’s whine is shockingly loud, immediately putting Yoongi on edge. “My lungs are so strong, you have no idea! I went to the pool with Hoseok-hyung and Jungkook earlier, and I held my breath for one minute and 27 seconds. Seriously!”

Apparently, Taehyung’s hair had been damp for reasons other than an early shower.

Something far within his memory rejoices at the picture of Jungkook and Taehyung playing around in the pool, but he can’t recall why exactly. 

“Seriously? What do you mean ‘seriously’! You nearly drown and your reaction is to hold your breath underwater?”

He wants to be angry, but he’s not. He’s amused, reassured, too fond.

“Maybe we could sneak into the pool now and I can show you?”

Yoongi bites his lip, glances into his room, door still wide open.

“I think sleep might be wiser?”

Yet, neither of them make a move to retreat to their rooms. They stand almost as frozen as when they had first opened the doors, serendipitously in synch.

“Want me to come over?” Taehyung asks, loud, as if he hadn’t thought it useful to answer Yoongi’s last suggestion.

Yoongi doesn’t think when he breathes out the “Yes.”

They sit on Yoongi’s unmade bed, their chatter random, sporadic, and light.

Because they’re in his bed, the jersey glares at Yoongi, right on top of his open luggage, just as he’d noticed earlier. Taehyung takes impressively long before bringing it up. Yoongi knows that Taehyung sees it too. The knowledge weighs heavy on his shoulders. The fabric is glaringly bright yellow, there is no avoiding it.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know?” Taehyung tells him. His eyes are on the suitcase. There is no two way of interpreting his statement.

Yoongi still tries.

“I have nothing to worry about.”

“I kept your jersey, too.”

In a rush of defensiveness, and in an attempt to bury the way he felt hearing those words, Yoongi replies.

“Yours was just way comfier, ok?”

“Ok,” Taehyung agrees gently.

“I was going to return it to staff,” he continues, palms feeling sweaty yet cold.

Taehyung only softly puts his head down to rest on Yoongi’s shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure I have a Suga t-shirt, from our debut days? I’ll find it and I can start a collection with today’s.”

“Ah Taehyung,” Yoongi sighs, tone a tad dramatic. He puts a hand over the back of Taehyung’s head, but feels too hesitant to do more. Like pet Taehyung’s hair or pat his head affectionately. His hand stays heavily in place. “Have you always been this shameless?”

Yoongi doesn’t expect an answer, and he lets his eyes close when none comes. Yet, Taehyung eventually speaks up, sounding meek and uncertain — not shameless in any regard.

“That’s what the mental health team keeps telling me. That I should share more, about my feelings and stuff. I think I’m still bad at it. But, I try. You know, to just say whatever it is I want to say.”

Yoongi’s hand clenches over the back of Taehyung’s head, but Taehyung doesn’t move away or tense up. Taehyung’s lack of reaction, of nervousness, feels familiar to Yoongi. Suddenly, he has trouble swallowing down, has trouble actually finding his voice to say something encouraging.

It had been something he’d brought up even as a trainee, whenever there had been meetings with management and whenever the floor had been open for them to voice questions. He’d always asked about mental health support, and he supposes it had helped other trainees label him as a “contrarian”, someone who liked to be disruptive.

He’d never really cared about rioting or chaos though. Instead, he’d always simply wished for the company to promote their employees’ mental wellbeing, especially with Bang Si-hyuk’s vision for the company — music that would heal.

When this year had started, he’d put his foot down, taking his advocacy within the company to new heights. It had all come to a head in the midst of contract negotiations. And now it was a done deal. A soothing relief to think that every one of them could have the mental support of trained professionals. They had an actual team they could rely on now.

And seemingly, that hadn’t been lost on Taehyung.

“That’s great. I’m proud of you, Tae.” He keeps his eyes on the jersey, thinks of using the nickname Taetae, but refrains.

Taehyung’s answer, again, catches him off-guard.

It’s a quiet sentence. Something like a flower bursting through the year’s last melting snows, ready to shrivel up at any sign of the springtime’s first frost.

“I love you.”

And Taehyung doesn’t wait for an answer to wrap his arm around Yoongi’s waist, to curl in closer.

Yoongi smiles despite himself. Touched to see Taehyung recognize his difficulties in expressing his feelings, and then make an attempt to do so in the next moment.

“I love you.” By the time Yoongi answers, Taehyung’s head feels considerably heavier. There are high chances that Taehyung has drifted off to sleep. So, with just a bit less self-restraint, he adds, “More than you know.”

Wanju — July 22, 2019

“Paragliding?”

“The view will be beautiful. Namjoon and I looked up the area on the bus ride over.”

“Ah, really?” Yoongi ruffles the back of his hair nervously. “How long ago was bungee-jumping? Can’t believe I really thought I wouldn’t be roped into this kind of thing again.”

Seokjin purses his lips, looking thoughtful from where he’s perched atop their room’s sofa — at least they had settled on calling the wooden structure a sofa.

“Actually, there won’t be any roping into. They’re supposed to consult us at some point today to opt in or out. I think you can make traditional gayangju instead.”

Yoongi sits up in the futon at that.

“Alcohol or mortal danger? We’re staying in a traditional hanok, too. I think the first is much more appropriate. Are you in?”

Seokjin hums before breaking into soft snickering.

“Oh, me? I’m planning on paragliding with our dear Hoseok.”

“Yeah, right. Good luck with that,” Yoongi snorts. “If you think I didn’t like bungee-jumping, I distinctively remember Hoseok teary-eyed as he was going up.”

“Well, I remember the producer told us Taehyung was on his knees pleading not to jump. Yet, I bet he’ll go paragliding tomorrow.” 

Yoongi glares at that, shoving his bucket hat back on a little more moodily than necessary.

“I’m not picking an activity just based on following Taehyung around like a puppy.”

It dawns on Yoongi that that wasn’t what the other had been insinuating only once Seokjin’s expression turns to confused surprise.

“I just meant that today’s Hoseok might opt in, even though he wouldn’t have in the past…”

Yoongi hurries to stand.

“Right. Well, I’ll go check with him now. Be back soon.”

He’s quick enough to dodge out of the room — using the door now, rather than stepping through the window as he’d done when they’d first wandered the grounds to identify their rooms and roommates — that he’s sure it’ll be believable that he hadn’t heard Seokjin’s shout of his name, even though he had.

They didn’t talk about that stuff, about Taehyung, or rather Yoongi’s feelings about him. Yoongi’s a little embarrassed that he hears any comment made by Seokjin on Taehyung as an attack, a jab to get Yoongi to open up. That probably isn’t the case. Still, he races out of their room.

He’s lucky enough that the first room he stumbles into is Hoseok’s. He’s unlucky enough that Hoseok’s roommate turns out to be Taehyung. The latter, however, is curled up in the bedding in the corner of the room. Even with his back to Yoongi, it’s obvious with the steady expansion and depression of his frame that he’s sleeping soundly.

“Hyung!” Hoseok exclaims, looking up from where he’d been organizing the contents of his travel bag. He tilts his head at Yoongi’s appearance and gestures at Yoongi’s striped sweater. “How haven’t you changed out of that sweater yet? I was sure that would be the first thing you’d do. Aren’t you suffocating?”

He kind of is. It was clearly typhoon season, the air hanging heavy, humid, and astoundingly hot. But, Yoongi had already adorned a pair of loose-fitting shorts, how much more skin was he supposed to expose?

Yoongi makes his way over, sits down cross-legged on the floor next to Hoseok.

“I’m in shorts, aren’t I?”

He stretches his legs out then, uncomfortably noticing that even his bare legs had now become sticky with sweat.

“That you are. The rare apparition of Min Yoongi’s legs!”

Yoongi laughs along with Hoseok, eventually settling on helping Hoseok organize his toiletries without as much as a word.

As they work silently, Taehyung doesn’t stir in the corner, nor does he make any kind of noise.

“Didn’t he sleep the whole way here?” he asks Hoseok worriedly.

“Taehyung?" Hoseok confirms with a quick glance. “He must be tired lately. I checked on our other maknaes and they were also deeply asleep.”

That’s somewhat reassuring. Both Jimin and Taehyung had barely peeped a word through the drive, sleeping side by side in the bus, only waking up groggily to take a few bites of food.

“So. A certain someone told me we’d be invited to paraglide tomorrow.”

From there the discussion naturally flows towards one-on-one plans for the next day, the pair assuming that they would spend the afternoon just the two of them together. They make plans to prepare alcohol for their fellow members and theorize on who is more likely to actually drink it or not.

And Yoongi nearly manages to shake off his earlier embarrassment. Nearly. Underneath the easy comfort and joy that chatting with Hoseok brought was the knowledge that he’d definitely need to return to his and Seokjin’s room, and that he’d acted like a complete fool by rushing out of there. That awareness is really only enflamed by Taehyung’s presence, still silent and motionless on the futon.

He expects that Taehyung waking up before he can return to his room would be shattering. Shattering because he would have no way of ignoring the fact that Seokjin couldn’t mention his name anymore without Yoongi becoming ultra-defensive. Shattering because Yoongi might just finally accept that he can’t quite go on in the same way that he’s been forcing himself to. Something has got to give.

But, when Taehyung actually wakes up, it’s not shattering in that sense at all. Yoongi immediately forgets about those worries. It’s shattering in a much different way.

It’s the same way his blood had felt like ice last year when they had been briefed on just how much Jungkook had cried on stage in London during his first concert after his heel had been injured, confined to a stool on stage.

The same sense of dread he’d had a few years back in Beijing as he’d watched Namjoon’s anxiety escalate and escalate until he had been physically unable to even think of the stage. The same kind of heartbreak he’d experienced when they had been in the middle of DNA promotions and Seokjin had lost Jjangu; and while he’d had declared on their fan café that he wasn’t sad, he had still cried himself to sleep in their shared room.

Because Taehyung wakes up in tears. No, not tears. Taehyung wakes up in violent sobs. The sound wet and as if Taehyung couldn’t properly get air to his lungs.

This feels like last year. When he’d found out much too late that Taehyung had cried a lot in Malta. At least, when compared to this, Taehyung’s tears had been mostly silent then. This is not a silent affair at all. And both Hoseok and him must be momentarily stunned by the outburst because the sounds feel like they go on for much too long before Hoseok rushes to kneel over the free futon, grabbing Taehyung’s shoulder to turn him around and face the room.

With nothing but a soft call of his name, Hoseok envelops Taehyung in a tight embrace.Yoongi approaches and from where Taehyung has his chin propped over Hoseok’s shoulder, Yoongi can see that his face matches the gravity of his sobs. His eyes swim in tears, looking impossibly larger, his entire face flushed red. When their eyes meet, Taehyung is quick to sink down to push his face into Hoseok’s shoulder instead.

“Why is hyung here? Make him leave.”

Yoongi flinches at that. He’s not sure if Taehyung had tried to voice it softly, but it had definitely come out loudly — even just to be heard clearly amidst his panicked crying.

“It’s alright, Taehyung,” Hoseok shushes him, evidently not taking the words as seriously as Yoongi had. “No one’s going to judge you. Do you want me to go get Jimin?”

Taehyung shakes his head harshly.

“He’s always, always comforting me. When do I ever comfort him?” The words are difficult to make out, squeezed out harshly in between sobs. Before either of them can assure Taehyung that that’s not the case, he continues in the same tone of difficulty. “Can hyung go? He hates when I’m sad.”

At that, Yoongi steels himself not to leave, and instead kneels down near the pair.

Hoseok’s the one to defend him again.

“None of us want you to be sad. It’s alright, Tae.”

“But, hyung, he’s…” Taehyung’s eyes peek out from over Hoseok’s shoulder, looking even larger, wetter. Yoongi tries to concentrate on the tremor in Taehyung’s hands instead, where they’re gripping the back of Hoseok’s shirt. “He’s always done everything to make me stop feeling sad. Always.” He finishes his thought with a low whisper. “He really can’t stand seeing me sad.”

It’s almost an impulse to reach out and to try to cover both of Taehyung’s hands with his own. He has a brief passing thought about how this may be awkward for Hoseok, but dismisses it to focus on Taehyung.

When he does finally speak, he finds it hard to.

“It’s nothing like that. Hyung’s just being selfish. As I told you, you have my favourite smile.” He swallows down, scared that the list of people “in the know” would now expand to include Hoseok. Yet, he pushes himself to say more. “I just try to see it as often as possible. You can always feel the way you truly do around me. Please forgive me if I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

Taehyung hiccups then, his eyes sliding shut, hands becoming less tense under Yoongi’s. Hoseok eventually pulls back and Taehyung moves to wrap his arms around his own chest instead. Yoongi avoids looking at Hoseok, he doesn’t want to see whatever curious expression he’s wearing.

“You remember saying that…?”

“It’s hard to forget the truth.”

Taehyung nods heavily at that, but his lips are noticeably trembling.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” Hoseok asks when Taehyung’s crying doesn’t calm, though Taehyung is now looking more and more exhausted rather than distressed.

“We really can go get Jimin, you know? Two people in a friendship don’t have to give each other the exact same thing. You give plenty to Jimin, even if you don’t think what you give is comfort. You don’t need to feel guilty when he comforts you.”

Yoongi doesn’t know where all of that came from. But, now, he can’t help but to wonder if it upsets Taehyung that Yoongi is always going out of his way to make Taehyung a little more cheerful. Taehyung was uncomplicated like that, kept the specific reasons for his feelings locked away, but couldn’t help but to let all the feelings bleed through in some way. Yoongi wasn’t as free in his emotional range. He wondered if he didn’t give Taehyung enough opportunities to cheer him up in return.

“I’m fine,” Taehyung insists in a voice that’s decidedly not fine. “I just hate the summer.”

Somehow, this is said with much more emotion than anything else so far, and Taehyung’s sobs even double in intensity and frequency once he’s said it.

Taehyung has never mentioned hating the summer. Yoongi likes it just fine. He can think of dozens of happy memories they’ve made together, even him and Taehyung specifically, that have taken place over their summers together.

Still, for the second time in a short period of time, he thinks of Taehyung’s tears in Malta last year. Then, he thinks of a couple of years before that, in early September, sitting next to Taehyung for a press conference. Manila had been hot, but the room had been hotter with the flashes of the media and in their stage outfits’ long sleeves. He’d overheard Taehyung speaking quietly with staff before going up on stage. He’d been surprised when Taehyung had managed to stay by their side the whole time. 

Yoongi reaches out to grab Taehyung’s hands. They’re tense again.

“You know, when something bad happens at a certain time of the year. It’s not uncommon to not feel your best when that time comes around again. Truly, it’s a common reaction. Especially with loss.” There’s nothing to feel ashamed of, Yoongi thinks; but he doesn’t want to push more than he already is.

When he glances over at Hoseok, his eyes are wide. As if he’d perfectly understood the meaning behind Yoongi’s careful words. Taehyung, in contrast, is just nodding along, tears still pooling in his eyes.

“It just feels like something horrible will happen before the summer ends, you know?”

This time, Yoongi truly feels heartbroken. He can’t compare the feeling to anything else he’s experienced. He doesn’t think about it at all when he pulls Taehyung up to a sitting position and hugs him tightly. It’s more full-bodied and more urgent and closer than any embrace they’ve shared before. Still, he squeezes him tighter when Taehyung’s chest keeps stuttering with sobs against his. He doesn’t even think about his words when he tells him, “Oh, sweetheart. I know.”

“I wish every day were late fall. Christmas lights would be out soon. And my birthday, too. And everyone would turn a year older. And summer would be as far as can be,” Taehyung rambles on softly near Yoongi’s ear, and he wonders if Hoseok even catches a single word of it.

Yoongi can’t help it, he tears up too. Feels Taehyung’s pain as if it were his own. He presses his lips together for a few moments.

Still, a couple of tears escape him when he tries to voice words — any words that could be some kind of comfort.

“The good thing about seasons is that late fall will always come back again, ok? And we’ll be here to hold your hand through the summer, alright?”

When they pull away from each other, Taehyung actually laughs when he sees Yoongi’s face, which is clearly distressed. The laugh sounds close to tears, but it also sounds affectionate, even grateful. Yoongi finds himself laughing with Taehyung, embarrassed as he wipes the tears off his face with his sleeves.

Their laughter only doubles when Hoseok sniffs loudly and they find him in tears, too.

All three of them hug then, and Hoseok tries to scold them.

“Really, guys? We have a photoshoot tomorrow morning. Who’s going to go get us icepacks for our swollen eyes now?”

Taehyung smiles at Yoongi when he finally heads out of their room. It’s the smile of someone who’s just finished crying. It’s still Yoongi's favourite despite that.

At the end of their third day staying in the hanok, Yoongi picks up Taehyung’s journal first. He likes the layout this year, the journal is calendar-shaped.

It’s a habit he’s picked up years ago, surreptitiously reviewing the other members’ entries once they’ve retired for the day, tired and ready to sleep. He likes to see who’s noticed or valued the same things as he has, and just generally learn more about the others’ perspectives.

Today, he’s not expecting anyone to make an entry on the architecture of stoned archways, the way he had. But, he’s particularly interested in reading Taehyung’s journal.

The sight and the sound of his crying still fresh and hard to push down.

Taehyung’s entry is not reassuring.

As always, my face is swollen. It’s something I worry about all the time. I take a nap and my face swells up. I’m really concerned about it. My biggest worry… haha. It’s a longtime concern of mine. I wanted to show the best side of me, but hmm… Still, I’ll try my best. Because I am BTS…

He folds and unfolds the corner of the page, fidgets with the journal just a little longer — can’t even manage to smile at the auto-portrait Taehyung had prepared in the illustration portion of the entry. He puts the journal back down onto the pile, foregoes looking at any other journal, and leaves the space.

Usually, he would try to make small talk with the staff lagging behind. Today, he only thinks of it once he’s walking outside, in search of Namjoon’s private room.

He doesn’t turn back. He does pause before Namjoon’s door once he’s located it, taking in the intricate wooden design of the doors. He feels a bit out of his body, as if this is too rash of a decision. He takes a deep breath, knocks at the door and pushes it open.

Namjoon is kneeling by the window, lyric notebook open over the windowsill. The view is nicer than Yoongi would have expected. The greens of the trees and hills drawing a peaceful and effervescent landscape.

Yoongi nearly feels bad for interrupting Namjoon’s work. Then again, this is work too. The wellbeing of the team, of each member; that should always be a high priority in their work.

“Can we talk?”

“Everything alright?”

Namjoon puts his pen down at that, notebook quickly closed and tucked away, too. Yoongi gets the feeling that Namjoon has sensed some tone of urgency in his apparition, but he can’t manage to tone it down to reassure him.

“No.” And then he launches right into it. “Don’t you find that, for most of us, this year we’ve really let go of putting too much pressure on ourselves? That we’ve become pretty decent at trusting ourselves and letting things slide? I just think Taehyung’s not doing that. I think he’s putting too much pressure on himself. Maybe even more than before.”

He doesn’t give Namjoon much context, nor does he manage to transition from the setup to his conclusion very smoothly. But he stays still as Namjoon silently processes the words.

“You think Taehyung is putting a lot of pressure on himself? Did something happen?” 

Yoongi thinks of Taehyung’s face, wet with tears and flushed bright red. He shakes his head.

“His journal entry for today was just… it was about nothing but his face being swollen.”

“Huh, I wrote about my face being swollen, too. I mean, we were shooting pretty much minutes after waking up. I’m sure most of us must have felt that way.”

Namjoon looks less alert now, and Yoongi feels peeved.

“He wrote that, that… well, I don’t really remember. But, something like, he had to be his best self because he’s part of our team.”

“What’s this about?” Namjoon asks him seriously, cutting to the chase.

Yoongi deflates slightly, pulls at his sleeves.

“I think Taehyung needs more mental care. He should be in more sessions… especially during our break. Because we’re going right back at it afterwards, filming in New Zealand, and then concerts again.” He lets out a short breath, feels even more out of his body when he considers whether or not he’s allowed to add more. Then, he says, “this is a hard time of the year for him. I just think he needs a little more support.”

It takes a while for Namjoon to say anything else.

“I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll make sure it happens, hyung.”

And that’s enough for Yoongi. He moves to stand up, but Namjoon gestures for him to settle back down, which he does with a frown.

“I’m fine?” Yoongi offers, sensing that Namjoon is about to check up on him, too. But, he’s happy this year. Currently, just a little concerned for his groupmate.

“Alright, but are things fine between you and Taehyung?”

He goes straight back to pulling at his sleeves, resisting the urge to chew his nails.

“What?”

Namjoon grimaces. It almost looks pained.

“Well, is there something going on between you two?”

No matter how uncomfortable Namjoon seems, Yoongi’s instinct is still to snap at him.

“Did hyung say something?” he asks back defensively, tone harsh.

“Who? Seokjin-hyung? No, I—”

“Well, good. Because, clearly, there is nothing going on. What the hell, Namjoon?”

He stands up. Namjoon doesn’t move to follow, doesn’t gesture again for Yoongi to take back his seat. Yoongi stands frozen, wanting to storm off, but wanting more than that to hear something reassuring. To hear Namjoon say he’s misunderstood, or to hear his blunt agreement with Yoongi.

“I can tell you understood what I meant, hyung. You know it would be fine if there was something going on, right?”

Yoongi lets out a breath, ready to laugh, but then decides against it, and all that comes out instead is a small, choked-off sound.

“No, it wouldn’t be.” He’s surprised to hear his voice come out as a whisper. “It probably wouldn’t even be fine if we weren’t… who we are.”

He thinks of growing up in Daegu, thinks of his parents, then thinks of Taehyung growing up somewhere so rural, and of Taehyung’s parents always getting along with his own, both with the same set of conservative values. Then, feels himself clam up.

“Those things will get better.” Namjoon’s words feel a little too dismissive. A little like he’s missing the point — that Yoongi doesn’t want to put someone he loves in a position to disappoint their family. Even if the thought of a family being disappointed over that annoys Yoongi to no end. Nonetheless, he finds himself nodding along, hanging onto Namjoon’s next words. “As for us being who we are. Isn’t this actually one of the best outcomes?”

He feels let down by Namjoon’s advice, unable to understand what he means.

“I guarantee management wouldn’t side with you on that one.”

“Alright, maybe not,” Namjoon concedes with his hands raised up in a sign of surrender. “But, on a personal level. Falling in love with one of the only persons who can understand everything that you’ve gone through? Being with someone who still understands your current schedule and your need to keep your private life more or less locked away, because he shares those things too? Doesn’t that sound like the best outcome?”

“Falling in love?” Yoongi aims for scandalized and outraged. He thinks he fails, and instead just sounds distressed and lost.

“I’m just saying. If you two want something to be going on, don’t let those things stand in your way. You’re both responsible enough to allow yourself this.”

“Ah, seriously. Namjoon. Don’t worry about that. There’s no chance of it.”

He thinks the words hurt more than they should. He curses his brain for conjuring countless images of Taehyung’s brilliant smiles, all aimed at no one but Yoongi. A smile that’s just for Yoongi. A smile that holds a promise of “something” between just the two of them.

“Alright, sorry if I overstepped.”

Namjoon reverts back to looking uncomfortable, and Yoongi decides to call it a night.

Helsinki — Mid-November, 2019

It had been a long day. At the very start of it, he’d already felt bruised and battered from the night before, falling over on the iced-over and not-so-snowy ski-hills. What had followed today had been a constant cycle of styling and shooting. Before their last shoot, thankfully, they had walked through the Esplanadi Park without any cameras aimed at them.

It hadn’t quite felt natural, not with such a large group; the members, stylists, photographer, security, other staff. Still, aside from their large group, the straight path of the park had hardly been crowded. Framed by fascinating architecture. The trees already dressed in white Christmas lights, despite the fact that it wasn’t even the month of December yet.

More than one member had looked rather enchanted by the scenery of the Market Square when they’d finally reached their destination. Maybe it had made them more eager, more pliable to pose for the cameras yet again. Yoongi, actually, had missed the normalcy of walking through a park, listening to the wind whipping through the branches of the impressive trees, eyes glued on the distinctively European style of the buildings and homes. Still, there was an overwhelming charm to the cobblestone of the Square, the sound of the fountain — with statues weighed down by a history Yoongi can only guess at, the green cars of the city’s tram.

Yoongi had felt like someone else, someone new who had lived a different life from what he’d had so far. A feeling that felt both foreign and familiar by now. Most of the others had looked the same, with wide and bemused eyes, and a rosy tone to their cheeks that seemed to have more to do with the dreaminess of their surroundings than the night’s cold air.

Now, warm and cozy in the restaurant, still able to stand up to look out through the windows to witness the magic of the Square, with a glass of expensive wine and the table chock-full of food — Yoongi can’t think of a better end to the day.

He’s comfortable, warm, jet-lagged, lethargic enough not to bother with whatever is going on to his left.

He’s happy sipping the wine, refilling his plate, and occasionally smiling at the members chatting away on the opposite side of table; Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin.

To his right, Namjoon seems a little high-strung, bouncing his knee fast enough that Yoongi can’t help but to notice it continuously. He probably wants to get back to the hotel, wants to get some work in before they have to call it a night to prepare for another exhausting day of shooting.

To his left, Jungkook and Taehyung have remained almost dangerously silent. Jungkook should have been sitting to Namjoon’s right, eating from his own plate. Instead, he’s standing behind Taehyung, looking particularly intense staring down at the camera in Taehyung’s hands, one hand over the back of Taehyung’s chair, and one hand busy picking at the food from Taehyung’s plate. Taehyung, who had yet to eat anything, or really take a sip of his wine. Instead, he seems utterly transfixed by the images captured by Jungkook’s camera.

At least, Yoongi bets he must be transfixed. Jungkook had proudly jumped up before the food had even arrived, promising to show everyone a sneak-peek from what he was already calling “his best cinematic work to date”. He’d headed over to Taehyung first at the latter’s request, promising he’d go around the table, but had never moved on.

As if his curious glance over had conjured Jungkook’s impatience, the youngest made an annoyed sound and grabbed the camera out of Taehyung’s hands.

“Jungkook, no!”

“It’s been like half an hour. Jungkook, yes.”

The last part had been forced out in a strange imitation of Taehyung’s voice: maybe a little too deep, maybe a little too squeaky, but with the perfect intonation.

“I haven’t even seen what I look like in my shots!”

“Too bad! You should have thought of that before looping Yoongi’s part for the fifteenth time!”

Yoongi quickly brings the glass back up to his lips to distract himself from the faces before him. All three of them had zoomed in on Jungkook once he’d spoken up again, as if waiting to fight over the camera to see their own scenes.

Jimin looks kind of scandalized, kind of mortified, kind of giggly over the revelation. Which, Yoongi supposes, might be how he would react if he wasn’t busy trying to look disinterested. Hoseok looks completely confused, as if waiting for further explanations. Seokjin looks much too pleased. The look on his face has Yoongi reassuring himself inwardly that no, no your hyung won’t reveal your feelings. Not after two and a half years of silence.

Taehyung, based on his response, seems to have focused in on Hoseok’s reaction; sounding a little desperate to contextualize Jungkook’s statement.

“Excuse me, that was the first scene on your film! Suga-hyung looked perfect. Perfect! It would be abnormal of me, rather than normal, to just move on to the next shot.”

Yoongi distracts himself from that particular explanation by trying to remember the first time Jungkook had approached him with the camera today. In Suomenlinna, most likely, by the water.

It felt like a lifetime ago by now. But really, it had been just this morning. He had gotten a glimpse of Jungkook’s camera’s screen after his shooting. He hadn’t liked it. He’d belatedly realized that the coat the stylists had dressed him in matched the same pale, dull, and sandy colour of his hair. The whites of his checkered sweater had only served to drain his skin tone even closer to the same pale shade of both his hair and coat. The skies had been grey. The waters had been grey. The stones of the islands, the branches of the trees, all the same oppressing grey. 

It made for a poetic and moody picture, maybe. But, it had made Yoongi feel as if he barely existed. Without a shape, form, or colour.

To see Taehyung get increasingly worked up defending the beauty of his looks feels a little odd. Especially if he had been replaying that same pale and grey tableau.

The subject doesn’t seem close to dropping when Yoongi finally speaks up, wanting to move everyone along to something that feels slightly less… surreal.

“Ah, so this is what it feels like to get the number one most handsome man in the world to call you pretty.”

Taehyung, predictably, protests loudly, “Ah, hyung! Seriously? Again? It’s been so long!”

“Jungkook, move it along. Taehyung needs to eat. And I think Namjoon seriously needs a distraction.”

Namjoon hadn’t seemed to zone back in despite all the commotion surrounding Taehyung’s weird watching habits, and even the mention of his name did nothing to shake away the faraway look in his eyes. It must have been more than enough initiative for Jungkook to fluidly move back to his seat, to gently nudge Namjoon to take a look at his recordings from the day.

The transition seems to have no effect on Taehyung, who still has yet to glance at his plate.

“Hyung, it’s true. You get handsomer and handsomer every day. I don’t need any ranking to show me that. Especially when you’ve always looked perfect to me.”

The word “perfect” makes him think of a balmy and cramped bathroom. Makes him think of Taehyung’s eyes, large and innocent in a face that is distinctively younger. He can’t place the memory. But, the revelation that Taehyung thinks he looks perfect is no revelation at all. He’d already known, based on a conversation he can hardly remember now.

Yoongi finishes his wine.

“I think the keyword there is ‘to me’.”

Taehyung’s answer comes naturally, quietly, softly.

“It’s because I see you clearly.”

This time, when Yoongi looks over, Taehyung has finally started eating.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything more. His heart is racing in his chest with unspoken promises of “what if”s and “maybe”s.

“How could a library be so beautiful?”

It’s far from the first time Yoongi has voiced the question aloud. The lines of the structure are just far too exquisite. A bold yet precious statement in a city filled with straight-lines. Yoongi walks back and forth under the roofed area before the front doors, eyes glued above on the curves of the wood and the lights that dot it, like notes on a musical partition.

“Producer-nim,” he calls out once he’s approached him, “Could I just head inside to take a look?”

Taehyung appears then, resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder from behind him. “Oh! Great idea! Yes, let us go take a peek!”

“You two have already requested so many stops. We could barely fit everything into the schedule. The other teams’ requests were much more manageable —”

“We didn’t expect it to be this beautiful,” Yoongi quickly insists. “I’ve been reviewing the travel book the team put together for us. This place isn’t even a year old. Yet, it was named the best library in the world already, right? How often can we see such a new, big, and acclaimed building?”

“We’ll be in and out, 15 minutes top. I promise to bring him back. Team hand-holding!”

As he’d done throughout the day, Taehyung grips Yoongi’s hand with the reminder of their team name. Yoongi lets him. But, he’s not dragged towards the entrance doors. He’s keeping step with Taehyung, as eager as Taehyung to take the opportunity for themselves. A brief stop would be alright. Production would find sufficient footage. They always did.

Entering into the library hardly feels like entering into a library. With high ceilings, constant chatter from a surprising number of visitors, and the same light wood as he’d been marvelling at outside, Yoongi feels more as if he’s come to watch a classical arts performance at a celebrated music hall.

They’re almost immediately in over their heads. They wander around, without any direction, and Taehyung seems drawn to the neon letters announcing “KINO REGINA”; eerily white over a dark backdrop. As if he’d expected to be led towards a modern art exhibit. Instead, they stumble into what is legitimately a movie theatre. 

It’s at this point that Yoongi has a passing thought for their lack of security. Really, they had left without permission. Yoongi figures that, had they had permission, they would have been sent with companions. He feels melancholic at the idea of losing the chance to explore with just Taehyung, so he moves ahead quickly, hoping to move at a fast enough pace that no one will be sent in to shadow them.

“Come on.” He doesn’t know when they’d stopped holding hands, but he’s the one to reach out this time, holding Taehyung’s hand securely as he leads them back towards the staircase they’d spotted when entering the building. “Team hand-holding,” he offers as a quick justification for the move.

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, not even when they stop at the foot of the staircase. A black, spiralling thing that when viewed from below has the same kind of curve as a landscape drawn by Tim Burton.

When he starts climbing, the actual stairs are revealed to be in that same light-coloured wood as the ceilings. The black of the walled ramps is decorated with white foreign words that Yoongi doesn’t understand. It’s then that Taehyung finally speaks up.

“Last night, I looked at the travel book, too, Hyung. Oodi Library… it’s actually the Finnish word for ‘ode’, did you know? Don’t you think it makes sense that you’d be so attracted to a place named after a type of lyrical poetry?”

Yoongi thinks of Taehyung at last night’s dinner. He thinks Taehyung must have been right when stating that he could see Yoongi clearly, could easily understand Yoongi’s full dedication to creating stories through music and lyrics. He stays quiet, but shifts his hand a bit so that they’re more palm-to-palm than before.

The second floor seems all the more shocking. Taehyung doesn’t miss a chance to walk around to point out gaming rooms, including virtual reality games. Taehyung doesn’t seem to have changed yet in that regard, and is still able to name consoles and games with a glance. Yoongi doesn’t have much of an opinion on that. Just knows that he doesn’t have enough energy to look anywhere further than his smart phone to get his mind to relax with easy games.

The floor seems endless. Complete with a section where college-aged kids are lounging on a staircase-like structure, as if they were part of a campus scene in a big-budget movie. They spot a room that for all intents and purposes looks like a recording studio. A station full of sewing machines. And, to Taehyung’s gobsmacked surprise, even a station of 3D printers.

By the time they’re climbing up the last flight of stairs, their hands have yet again parted. It’s alright though, because Taehyung is taking the stairs three at a time, and Yoongi feels winded even just looking at him go.

He’s reminded of the group, years ago, probably before they’d gotten any kind of real success. Taehyung and Jungkook had often raced up stairs back then, determined to go faster than the others. This would often unfold in big foreign cities, at the terror of their managers.

Yoongi comes to a stop, as Taehyung races up. Of course, these stairs are spiralling, so Taehyung stops too, many steps ahead, when he’s directly opposite in the spiral to Yoongi. He seems surprised to find Yoongi staring. Yoongi is sure he looks surprised too, as if he had been expecting to see Taehyung’s eighteen-year old face, rather than the very adult friend he’s come to grow up with.

“What are you rushing up for?”

He briefly wonders if Taehyung intends to keep the promise to their producer — 15 minutes top. Yoongi isn’t quite sure they’re still in a position to respect that promise. He doesn’t want to take out his phone. He doesn’t want to go back to the cameras at all.

Fortunately, Taehyung’s answer is quite different.

“I’m just really excited to find out whether this place has books or not.”

A second of silence, and the next Yoongi is laughing freely. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Yoongi heads up the stairs, feels fond when he realizes that Taehyung is waiting for him, and keeps with his pace as they move forward.

“I think I nearly forgot this was a library. I get the feeling that this place might be better equipped than some schools.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel any kind of disappointment when they make it to the third floor and the space is rich with bookshelves. They’re not the shelves they would be used to, anyway. The shelves weren’t nearly as tall as one would imagine, with visitors’ heads peeking out from atop the shelves. The shelves were white too, nothing like the dark wood Yoongi would have associated to a public library. The distance between the shelves was great enough to successfully give the space the minimalistic and open feeling associated with Northern European decor.

There were even potted trees on the floor, giving the floor a real ambiance of being its own ecosystem.

They end up separated, both lost in their own exploration of the books. The design, however, allowed for Yoongi to quickly identify Taehyung, who had ended up before the fully windowed wall.

“There’s the National Assembly,” Yoongi points out when he joins Taehyung to look out at the view.

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, points at a different building — more towards the right.

“And that’s the Helsinki Music Centre.”

Yoongi thinks, if this building was more than fit to be a concert hall, the city’s actual concert hall must be resplendent.

“How mad do you think our producer would be if we asked to go there, too?”

Taehyung chuckles, but it sounds distant. Yoongi guesses that his head is lost in the clouds, as his eyes haven’t moved away from the Music Centre. He’s surprised when Taehyung actually keeps on talking.

“If I lived here, I bet I would never miss a performance by the orchestra. I’d come to hang out here before the show, and I’d get something from the café downstairs, then I would come up here and watch the city before leaving for the performance.”

Yoongi smiles, can imagine it well. He could imagine going to the orchestra with Taehyung in their current lives, too. He can picture how Taehyung would be at the edge of his seat during the show, and then how his cheeks would flush in the cold night air as they leave the theatre — probably voicing his every thought on the music they’d heard inside.

But, they don’t ever do that. Doing stuff like that, it required so much preparation, so much time and money from the company to even coordinate their security. Yoongi thinks of how difficult it is to go catch a movie, thinks of the laborious effort it is for others of the group to attend shows of popular artists, thinks of Seokjin who even complains about going to amusement parks.

His smile has faded by now.

“Do you think the you that lives here would ever invite me along?”

Taehyung finally looks away from the building to face Yoongi instead. His expression is hard to read at first, but it soon blooms into something full of happiness.

“Well, duh! For me, you’re the embodiment of music. You’d be the first person I’d want to go to the orchestra with.”

Yoongi thinks again of Taehyung claiming that he sees him so clearly. Feels a little choked up. Naturally, he tries to spin the focus back on Taehyung.

Tells him, a little gauchely, “Ah, there it is again. My favourite smile.” 

In an unfortunate turn of events, Taehyung’s smile dims somewhat. Yoongi doesn’t spend too much time mourning the former version of the smile, as Taehyung reaches out to hold his hand again. There’s no mention of their team name this time.

Instead, Taehyung asks, “Do you want to go out onto the terrace with me?”

While the library has been busy in just about every corner, there’s no one currently outside on the wooden terrace. Tables and chairs are empty. Yoongi wonders if the seats are still wet with the previous two days of rain, or if that’s all changed with today’s sunlight.

Still, he feels almost eager as he escapes onto the terrace with Taehyung. They’d gone from the entire crew, to just them and strangers. And now it would just be them, outside in the bright November afternoon.

Taehyung pulls him to the very edge, near the transparent fencing.

“Hyung.” He speaks the word in a strange and final way. Yoongi leans in closer. “Your smile is my favourite, too. Actually, you’re just my favourite altogether.” Taehyung isn’t meeting his gaze now. He looks down, and Yoongi only understands why with his next words. “Even if I’m not supposed to feel that way.”

Yoongi squeezes Taehyung’s hand.

“Says who?”

“Anyone would say that, hyung.”

He sounds defeated.

Yoongi thinks of a hotter day, where there had been no melodies spun by the city. Only the bullfrogs had harmonized with Namjoon’s words as he’d more or less given Yoongi his blessing.

“That’s not true. I wouldn’t, for one.” Yoongi wants to look away too now, but chooses to look skyward instead. The sky is surprisingly blue. “I would say it’s wonderful that two persons who can see each other so clearly could be each other’s favourite person.”

“What?”

“I mean, to have someone who knows you so well love you so completely? Wouldn’t that be the best feeling?”

“Well, yeah. But everyone else…”

Yoongi stays focused on the memory from last night, Taehyung telling him about how clearly he can see him.

“Everyone else doesn’t matter so much, and doesn’t really need to know. Because they don’t see us the way we see each other.”

Yoongi finally sets his eyes back on Taehyung. Taehyung looks highly affected by the words, eyes searching, eyebrows drawn closer together.

“What? Where is this coming from?”

Yoongi glances back at the glass wall. He wonders if it would be possible to kiss Taehyung here, just like this. If he put his hand up to shield the way their lips would meet, or maybe if he’d put up that map of the building he’d grabbed from the information desk on the second floor. Maybe if he grabbed Taehyung’s cheeks and leaned all the way in until their foreheads pressed together, he could just quickly kiss Taehyung’s lips without anyone noticing.

He wants to kiss Taehyung.

He knows he can’t.

He shrugs his shoulders, lets go of Taehyung’s hand.

“I think you know exactly where it comes from, Tae.”

“You know, hyung. You always seem to remember the important things. Did you notice that?”

The observation feels random to Yoongi, and not even remotely true to begin with. He wants to lean away from Taehyung, but doesn’t know how to do it elegantly.

“I don’t think so. Aren’t you the holder of that title?”

Because Taehyung was. He almost never needed refreshers on lyrics or choreographies, no matter from how many years ago. Remembered embarrassing moments from any member, and could often point out different belongings and describe them with what month of what year the owner had gotten them.

“Maybe. But, I don’t know. You always seem to remember about how I feel about this or that.”

“I don’t know, Taehyung. Our schedules are so packed. Our sleep patterns are so unusual. We’re always moving around. Always transient. Everything sort of bleeds into the next thing until it becomes just one tangled heap of feelings and memories.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have anything to counter that with. He leans against the barrier, sets his eyes on the Music Centre again.

Yoongi doesn’t like the expression in Taehyung’s eyes. So, even though he hadn’t really liked Taehyung’s rough change of topics in the first place, he forces himself to feel vulnerable yet again.

“It does feel, however, that we’re always doing something like this when my feelings for you change. Or rather, when they progress, or when I acknowledge them. Like, we’re somewhere completely foreign, and we’re expected to travel the place rather than put on a performance. It’s like, whenever I’m completely out of my element, I realize I want to be with you.” Yoongi bites his tongue, hates himself for being too obvious, yet too unclear. “Or something,” he adds softly, dejectedly.

Taehyung pushes back from the fence, turns towards Yoongi. Taehyung doesn’t kiss him, not the way Yoongi had been fantasizing about moments ago. But, he does pull Yoongi into a very tight embrace, rests his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder, and sways them softly as he holds the embrace for a long moment.

And when he says, “You’ll always be my favourite,” Yoongi is sure the words are only meant for him.

Yoongi squeezes him back tightly and closes his eyes.

He only relaxes when Taehyung adds, “Don’t worry, I understood. And I love you, too.”

He barely has time to even look in Taehyung’s direction later in the afternoon. They exchange snow-globes in Old Church Park, where he’d shot on the first day, alongside Seokjin. He liked the location — right by their hotel. It was easy to sneak up into his room for a quick nap before dinner. And dinner was excellent enough, truly tasting like authentic Korean food, that he’d hardly exchanged a word with anyone else during the meal. 

It seems like pure happenstance that he would find himself in the same elevator as Taehyung at the end of the day. He’s not sure where Taehyung had wandered off to to also be on the ground level at a much later time than their scheduled slots to film their last diary entries.

As for Yoongi, the towels on the rack over the bathtub had unfortunately fallen into the tub during his morning bath. Upon checking at the end of the day, they were still quite soaked.

Which brought him here, fresh towels in his arms in the silent elevator.

He can’t tell if things are tense, but he wishes he’d arranged for hotel staff to bring the towels directly to his room, rather than using the excuse for a late-night walk in the hotel lobby to go retrieve them himself. After his midday nap and full dinner, he found himself much more awake than he would prefer.

Awake, yes. But, hardly brave enough to be alone with Taehyung after their outing in the Oodi Library.

Taehyung is still dressed as he had been during the day. Dress shirt, checkered sweater vest, cardigan, handkerchief tied around the collar of the shirt. It’s too much in the same way as Yoongi’s combination of fuzzy white turtleneck and warm orange and blue striped cardigan feels like it’s too much. He thinks the clothing options for the day, overall, felt much more autumnal than they had wintry.

“Isn’t it lucky? They said winter package, but really, we shot in the late fall. In this city that quintessentially feels like the late fall.”

He’s proud of himself for breaking the silence for all of one second. Taehyung’s expression morphs completely; into something that certainly feels close to horror.

Yoongi feels uncomfortable. The turtleneck feels prickly against his skin, the cardigan much too tightly fitting over the sweater. He’d preferred it when he’d had the bomber-styled jacket layered atop the outfit during the day, feeling as if he could hide the bulkiness of his figure under the additional layer.

He knows he probably shouldn’t have reminded Taehyung so breezily that he’d seen him in hysterics, just months ago.

He keeps his eyes on the floor number display from that point on.

He nearly exhales in relief when the elevator reaches its destination. He swallows that back down when Taehyung links their arms together, seeming intent on following him. Neither of them say anything. Yoongi knows though that Taehyung will follow him all the way into his hotel room.

And he does. He slips out of his shoes, and makes a beeline for the room’s comfy bed. Yoongi feels a little embarrassed, the covers are quite crumpled from when he’d curled up over them earlier to rest.

Aside from that, it’s quite pleasing to have Taehyung here. He’d spent most of their time at the hotel marvelling at the ambience and decor. In his current outfit, Taehyung fits beautifully in the neutral-themed palette, in the warm and comfortable design of the room.

“It’s just like what I said earlier, no? You always remember the important things.”

Taehyung had taken a seat at the foot of the bed, legs looking quite long despite the width of his pants. Yoongi sits down at the foot too, facing Taehyung’s profile. He isn’t sure anymore what kind of emotion hid behind Taehyung’s reaction. Was he reproachful that Yoongi had remembered his honest words, spoken in a vulnerable moment? Or, was he grateful for Yoongi’s attention?

“Is that a good thing?”

He’s not quite sure what the ideal response would have been. Certainly, he hadn’t foreseen Taehyung’s actual answer.

“Do you want us to kiss?”

“Kiss?”

“Yeah. When we looked out at the city together today… I really wanted to then.”

Yoongi remembers building different hypotheses in his head then, wondering if it was possible to get away with kissing Taehyung in that moment and in public.

“Me, too,” he admits softly.

Taehyung draws his legs inwards to turn and replicate Yoongi’s pose; cross-legged. Instead of Taehyung’s profile, Yoongi is suddenly met with Taehyung’s intense stare. He’s surprised by how he doesn’t feel intimidated, how he’s not at all tempted to look away.

“I feel a little bad for saying it. Like I said, it doesn’t feel like I’m allowed to have you as my favourite. Not only because… others would see it as a problem. But, it also feels like it’s wrong of me to hold you more dearly in my heart than the other members?” Taehyung puts a hand over his heart and though Yoongi will admit Taehyung’s words weren’t all too clear, he still understands. He’s seen how Taehyung goes out of his way to do small things for each member. How adamant he’s become in recent years to remind everyone that they were an essential member of the team. As he finds himself nodding along, he almost misses the way Taehyung leans in, face determined, as if he’s suddenly switched tracks. “At the same time, it’s like I have this impossible amount of love for you. And I need to express it. And there’s no actual way to express it well. And I think if we kissed, that could help?”

“I understand you,” Yoongi says simply.

Yoongi thinks it would be difficult to put their first kiss into words. He knows that his room’s floor-length curtains hadn’t been drawn, that the reading lamp affixed to the bed’s headboard had been left turned on, that he was still holding the fresh towels in his arms. That much he knows.

He doesn’t know how to ever share with someone how true to Taehyung’s words that kiss had been. As if Taehyung had painstakingly poured a love unspoken of, cultivated over something close to a decade, into the simple act of holding Yoongi’s face and kissing him.

The towels are forgotten over Yoongi’s lap as he reaches out to grab the fabric of Taehyung’s cardigan. He pulls Taehyung closer to him, and pushes himself closer, too. Their second kiss feels just as warm as the first. The third kiss sees Yoongi pressing his hands to Taehyung’s ribcage instead, in a hopeless move to feel closer despite the countless layers of clothing they’d been dressed into today. He feels as if Taehyung must understand, as the other had moved his hand to massage the back of Yoongi’s neck; something that was only accomplished by slipping his hand under Yoongi’s turtleneck.

The bed is made up with something like five pillows; very different from the single pillow Yoongi would typically use at night. So, it’s not a far fall to lean back onto the pillows, their hands almost fidgety with a desire to explore more, touch different parts of each other that they’ve never touched with this kind of intent before.

Yoongi has a hand over Taehyung’s heart, thinking of the way Taehyung had touched the same spot when speaking earlier, and one curled over his waist when Taehyung speaks up. His voice feels unfamiliar in this kind of setting, both entangled in each other on the bed, mouths centimetres away from meeting again.

“Don’t you feel like you’re dying of heat?”

Yoongi nods mutely, embarrasses himself as he attempts to unbutton his cardigan with shaky fingers. He doesn’t think he would manage to pull this thing off over his head. Taehyung reaches out to help, but whenever their fingers graze, Yoongi can’t help his natural reaction to squeeze Taehyung’s fingers lightly.

Removing the one article proves to be an exploit, complete with soft laughter and shy looks. And the result of removing it is nearly invisible, with Yoongi still fully covered in the turtleneck.

In contrast, Taehyung lets his cardigan drop without a fuss. Though Yoongi is the one to untie the handkerchief from around his neck and to pull the sweater vest up and off him — something he accomplished with shockingly steady hands.

Taehyung is all smiles at that point. Taehyung, hair splayed out on the impressive wall of pillows, chest heaving with that emotion he spoke so fiercely of earlier, and with a smile not unlike the one he’s always reserved for lighthearted, easy moments of joy.

It’s enough for Yoongi to lean down and resume their kisses. He still notices when Taehyung tries to pull the turtleneck off his body mid-kiss. So, Yoongi sits up, pulls the thing off, and tries not to think of how his hair looks now, or what his chest looks like in that particular posture, in that specific light, in Taehyung’s eyes.

He closes his own eyes and lets himself believe when Taehyung whispers, “You’re so perfect.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop as Taehyung pulls him into an embrace. The embrace feels like the one at the top of the Oodi Library, Taehyung squeezing him so close. Of course, now it’s with Yoongi’s bare chest against Taehyung’s nice dress shirt, while they’re rolling around in Yoongi’s bed. But, it feels as genuine and as open as in the early afternoon.

Yoongi tries not to think too deeply of it, doesn’t want to feel silly for getting teary-eyed in this kind of moment.

When it’s Taehyung’s shirt they finally remove, Yoongi thinks he sees the same moment of self-doubt in Taehyung’s expression. He spends enough time kissing up and down Taehyung’s sternum that they eventually end up laughing, unable to kiss more.

Yoongi’s hesitant to ask to reveal more skin. He doesn’t see the moment as sexual, really. He doesn’t want them to equate all expressions of this unexplored love between them to something ultimately sexual in nature. But, he can’t help but to feel the appeal of it anyway. He just knows he wants Taehyung closer.

He leans back into the pillows, clasps their hands together tightly.

“Do you think it’s alright that I want us to be as close as possible?”

He turns his head on the pillow, meets Taehyung’s happy, excited expression, as he nods back.

“I think it’s how we were meant to be, anyway.”

If the start of falling in love with Taehyung was the blink of an eye, something he’d been able to forget for two years before remembering the tiny seed and finding a small bud instead… something he had watched grow secretly, away from everyone else. Then, this very moment feels like something he can’t draw his eyes away from, not in this eternity at least. His feelings had grown and blossomed steadily, and Taehyung had only reacted to the sight of them by showing the same fully-blossomed love in return.

“Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything we need to worry about.”