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Min Yoongi, you little shit.
That was Seokjin’s first thought as his steps led him out of an elevator and came to a halt before a large door. He took a deep breath, read the name written in elegant letters on the dark wooden surface. Dr. Kim Namjoon.
His freshly oxygenated brain poured brand new skepticism into his veins; he scoffed.
“As if I needed the help of a complete stranger.”
That was an utter waste of time. Seokjin could come up with at least a dozen other ways he could be employing his time and energy. It was such a beautiful, sunny day outside. The weather was neither hot nor cold, the sky was covered with fluffy cotton clouds. He could be in his apartment at that moment, looking out the window, having some tea, reading a book, watching as bypassers down at ground level moved on with their lives while he remained safely enshrouded in his comfort bubble… Immobile. Inert. Stuck.
(Safe.)
Yoongi’s words slithered around his neck like a viper.
You’re drowning, hyung. And my arms aren't strong enough to pull you back into the boat.
The asshole had had the nerve to use fishing imagery to convince Seokjin to follow his stupid advice. If his best friend was dumb, he was dumber for having taken the bait and actually scheduled a session with Yoongi’s therapist friend. The double O’s of the doctor’s name, written above the hangul on the door, seemed like ogling eyes, daring him to knock and do what he had come to do. His mouth went dry, his palms sweated, his breath hitched. Yoongi’s voice rang in his ears again.
It’s just people. People in the waiting room who want nothing more than to feel better, just like you, and a person who has studied for several years of his life to help those other people find some peace of mind. That’s all there is to it.
Soft classical music welcomed him into the waiting room, decorated in earthy tones. Just like every corner displayed a different variety of plants (never too much, just a taste of what a walk in the park should resemble), most of the cushioned chairs neatly organized against three of the four walls in the room were occupied. Too nervous to pay much attention to details, Seokjin figured that fixing his eyes on the secretary who had just finished a telephone call would help him focus on the task at hand. His fingertips went numb due to how strongly he was squeezing the doorknob, still half inclined to run the fuck away. Instead, Seokjin forced one foot to move, then another, until he reached the reception booth. Although he felt eyes on his back, he faked a polite smile at the lady behind a computer monitor.
It’s never just people.
He was proud of himself for finishing the short conversation without stuttering, then took a seat as far away from everyone else as possible once the secretary told him his appointment would begin shortly.
As usual for every single socially awkward or merely bored person, he fished for his phone in his jacket pocket, searching for a distraction, an anchor to keep him on that chair. Since he gave in to Yoongi’s incessant pleas that he seek professional help, Seokjin had developed a habit of writing down some of his thoughts, the ones he figured would be relevant to his therapy sessions. Approaching the situation in a rational way and being somewhat prepared for it, as if it were a job interview or a college exam, set his mind at ease, gave him a sense of control, albeit feeble. That was more than he could claim to have felt in a while.
Soon enough, like a computer running background tasks, Seokjin’s brain capacity was once more split between his sad attempt at keeping his shit together and failing to ignore the anxiety buzzing in his ears. New experiences weren't really his forte, not anymore, at least. New hurt; old hurt too, but he knew that pain, knew where and why each cut bled. He had been soaking in his own misery for almost a whole year now, tending to wounds that never fully healed because every day something poked at one (or all) of them until the improvised stitches gave out.
As much as he knew he couldn't get out of the river and climb onto the boat without external help (he mentally scolded himself for allowing Yoongi’s metaphor to get under his skin), the thought of opening up about his deepest, darkest fears and vulnerabilities to someone he had never seen, whose only reason to hear him out was the money he’d get out of it, didn't exactly soothe him.
His eyes darted to the clock at the top of his phone screen. His appointment was due in fifteen minutes. His heart pounded faster in his chest with each passing second. Whatever distractions the device in his hands offered paled in comparison to the sight of the door — so close, yet so far away...
How long had his leg been bouncing? Why did his bottom lip sting as if his teeth had broken skin? Why was the overgrown hair at the back of his head sticking to his nape?
In a blink of an eye, he was out of the room, head sticking out of the corridor window, gasping for air he had unconsciously been depriving himself of. His face burned with the realization that all the other patients had seen him wobble his way out the door and were probably sneering at him in their minds. He definitely couldn't walk in there again. Yoongi couldn't blame him for not trying, right?
Once his ragged breaths became even, he loosened his vice-like grip on the windowsill and turned around to rest his lower back on the wall. An unsteady hand rubbed over his face; shame licked at his neck and ears. What a fucking mess.
Some breathing exercises later, Seokjin felt ready to head back home. He was about to take the first step towards the elevator when the waiting room door opened before him. One of the patients he’d seen in there came out, and without ceremony, greeted him.
“Hey.”
Seokjin’s mind was too foggy to reply, so he just blinked at the stranger offering him a concerned look. The guy put his hands in his pockets before speaking again.
“Everything okay?”
His voice came out strained, but decent enough.
“Yes.”
The man nodded. “Is this your first time here?”
Seokjin felt like a deer in headlights. His eyes went from one side to another, physically searching for the right answer, one that would make this dude stop talking to him and get back inside so he could gather whatever dignity he had left and run back to the safety of his apartment. The young man didn't need any encouragement to keep talking, and his words short-circuited Seokjin’s mind.
“I almost ran away from my first appointment too.”
He leaned back on the wall next to the door, then crossed one ankle over the other. Seokjin was thankful the guy kept his head lowered; the last thing he needed was to feel monitored right when he wasn't in full control of his face muscles. Upon closer inspection, Seokjin noticed vibrant red hair locks sticking out from under the guy’s brown beret. His laid back body language, the serenity in his voice, the complete lack of judgment in his demeanor while reporting a similar past experience calmed his heart a little. Seokjin waited and listened.
“I actually got in the elevator, walked two blocks to the subway station... Until something came over me and made me call my best friend.” He chuckled to himself, deep in thought. “He convinced me to reschedule, came with me the second time, and didn’t let me leave. That was six months ago, and after each session, I feel more and more thankful for that.”
A brief moment of silence followed. As soon as the familiar warmth of tears flooded Seokjin’s eyes, he blinked them away in a fury. What the fuck? How did this dude get to him so fast? He blamed it on his already frail mental state to justify such a pathetic reaction. The guy spoke again, every word uttered more softly than the former, as if Seokjin weren't already struggling to keep his emotions in check.
“I don’t know what you’re going through, and I’m sorry to approach you like this, but I wish everyone had someone to do for them what my friend did for me.” They exchanged glances; he offered Seokjin a small smile. “I hope you’ll reconsider and walk back inside. Doc’s very good at his job. Give him a chance to help you.”
More silence befell them, which didn't bother the nice stranger at all. He didn't seem to expect an answer, just casually entered the waiting room again, giving Seokjin all the freedom to make up his mind. He stared at the now empty spot next to the door for what felt like forever without blinking, head and heart brimming with mixed thoughts and feelings.
When he walked into the room and took a seat again, in a bout of courage and perhaps stubbornness, he spotted the red-haired guy drawing on a sketchbook on his lap. Shortly after, the boy returned his gaze and smiled so warmly Seokjin’s head spun.
What the actual fuck.
“Kim Seokjin-ssi,” the secretary announced with a polite tone, but it still made Seokjin jump in his seat. “The doctor will see you now.”
He nodded at her and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants before getting up. Bone-crushing anxiety made his stomach drop as soon as he stood upright; in need of one more confidence boost to keep moving, too busy freaking out to feel ashamed, Seokjin glanced at the beret guy again. The smile remained on his face as he cheered Seokjin on by balling one hand into a fist next to his head and mouthing the word fighting.
His gaze lingered on the unexpectedly cute display of encouragement for a little too long before Seokjin spun on his heels and walked to the door behind which Dr. Kim Namjoon awaited.
The process of putting yourself together is infinitely more strenuous than the one of falling apart.
Seokjin could almost hear his therapist’s voice in his head. Of course, he had already learned that long before starting his treatment; however, as with almost all things, knowing the theory did not automatically grant practical success.
There was no denying that Kim Namjoon was a very talented therapist. The seamless way he conducted their sessions always had Seokjin gaping at the artsy decoration adorning his office walls, heart beating fast and strong in his throat, mind swimming in newfound perspectives on his very flawed self. It had been almost two months of weekly appointments, and Seokjin could already sense tangible progress.
Surely, his epiphanies had been small, but always poignant. As hard as it was to follow Namjoon’s guidance whenever they hit a sore spot in his healing odyssey, he was slowly coming to realize these baby steps were the bricks to lay his new foundations. A hurricane had blown his life away in full Wizard of Oz fashion, so every detail made a big difference in the long run. That was the first time he felt he was headed somewhere.
Well, according to Namjoon, Seokjin’s feet were still very much rooted to the bottom of the river. Of course, he also helped Seokjin distinguish a silver lining: at least he knew which way was up, where to swim for oxygen. The realization alone filled him with a sensation long foreign to him: usefulness. He could fight this beast. He’d take far more punches than throw ‘em, no doubt, but Seokjin had a thin layer of armor shielding his battered mind from its worst enemy: itself.
After one of his appointments, Seokjin stopped by the corridor window to reply to Yoongi’s texts. He rolled his eyes as a picture of Hoseok, Yoongi’s life-long crush, followed by multiple crying emojis, filled up his phone screen. He smirked and typed something cheeky before pocketing the device and taking a moment to appreciate the view. He couldn't believe how light his chest was whenever his sessions with Namjoon ended. Whether for better or worse, whether he came out drained for having bawled his eyes out or floating like a helium balloon, it always felt like unloading a burden that sat heavily on his shoulders, stopped his lungs from expanding properly.
That day had been a good one. He felt perfectly normal, almost like the person he had once been — the Seokjin he wished he could resemble again.
The elevator dinged a few steps away. Seokjin cleared his throat and started to walk in its direction, until he lifted his eyes from the floor to look at the person who had just walked out of the cubicle. He stopped on his tracks once mutual recognition flashed in their eyes.
“Hey!”
Both spoke in unison, then chuckled at their synchronicity. Seokjin took it upon himself to keep the conversation going before they lost momentum.
“Long time no see! How are you?”
“Eh, been better, been worse,” the guy Seokjin had met on the day of his first session replied, in a sigh, his voice low and raspy, then changed the subject. “I assume you are still giving therapy a chance?”
He ruffled his own hair, which was no longer red, but something between blue and green. Seokjin also noticed the boy was a bit paler than a few weeks ago; despite his thick-rimmed glasses, the dark circles under his eyes were evident, and his smile, though irrevocably genuine, didn't radiate the same warmth Seokjin still remembered from before. Seokjin didn't let his concern over the guy’s health show on his face and voice.
“Yes, it’s been incredible. You were right.”
The boy smiled again, but his eyes didn't follow. His words were sincere nonetheless.
“I’m glad.”
He shuffled his weight from one foot to another. Seokjin blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind, reluctant to let their conversation fade out, as shallow as it was.
“Do you have an appointment with him now?”
It took him a fraction of a second to realize that a) the answer was pretty obvious and b) that was pretty nosy of him, what the fuck?
The guy nodded anyway, unbothered. “The secretary managed to squeeze me in. I called half an hour ago, got lucky.”
Namjoon had told Seokjin on the first day, as he probably did to everyone else, that he did his best to keep a rather flexible schedule, since sometimes patients had severe episodes and couldn't afford to wait the usual interval between sessions. Upon closer (and discreet) inspection, Seokjin noticed the boy looked quite disheveled: his white T-shirt had definitely not been ironed, his absurdly baggy green pants seemed a bit beaten, and the hair he assumed had been indigo blue not too long ago was a sad aquamarine.
Seokjin reached a somber conclusion: he must be having one of those days. The days when even raising your eyes to face someone seemed like a Herculean task. And yet here he was, humoring Seokjin's small talk just because… Well, because he was genuinely nice and Seokjin didn't know how else to convey how grateful he was to meet him again.
For a second, he pictured this scrawny boy walking into Namjoon’s office, sitting on the leather couch, crying his eyes out as Namjoon did his best to walk him out of that black hole. The fact that Seokjin himself had been through it a handful of times as well only made the vision more vivid, more painful to imagine.
Seokjin had the sudden urge to put a hand on this guy’s shoulder, tell him it was going to be okay, maybe get those overgrown bangs away from his glossy eyes. Seokjin wondered if he had already eaten, wanted to buy him some greasy comfort food and just listen, even if he chose to be silent.
Of course, Seokjin didn't do any of that.
“I’d better not keep you, then.”
He got a single nod and the ghost of a smile in response.
“Good to see you. Take care, Seokjin-ssi.”
He was already too far to hear when Seokjin finally managed to voice his thoughts in a confused mumble.
“How do you know my name?”
The most important question, however, remained unasked.
What happened to you?
Seokjin found out his name two weeks later as he walked out of Namjoon’s office. Surprise washed over him when he spotted the familiar colored hair, this time dyed in the deepest blue he’d ever seen, near the receptionist booth. Taehyung greeted him with a smile that Seokjin returned.
It was evident he was in much better shape than the last time they'd met. Seokjin had to admit seeing Taehyung again and well brought him more joy and relief than he'd expected.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Taehyung-ssi,” the lady said while Seokjin lingered around, offering him an apologetic look. “Your session was rescheduled for five o’clock.”
Taehyung’s shiny hair flew back and forth as he shook his head, hands flat on the granite counter surface. “It's okay, I’ll be back later then. Thank you!”
Seokjin didn't have much time to observe or stand by awkwardly, since Taehyung soon locked eyes with him and tilted his head in a silent invitation to get out of the packed waiting room. Seokjin bid his adieu to the receptionist before following, heart beating a little faster than usual. They stopped by the corridor window where they’d first met.
“So we meet again,” Taehyung chirped, crossing his arms and resting one shoulder against the wall. Seokjin mimicked him absent-mindedly, infected by the electric joy he emanated. “How are you?”
“Hello, Taehyung-ssi.” He made sure to use the boy’s name, curious to feel it on his tongue for the first time. “I’m okay. What about you?”
Taehyung nodded enthusiastically, to which Seokjin, having a hard time handling such contagious excitement, smiled.
“As a matter of fact, I just got lucky. My appointment had to be rescheduled last minute and I have nothing to do for the next…” Taehyung checked his phone in his pocket for the time. “Two and a half hours.”
Seokjin’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I don't follow. How is that lucky?”
Taehyung sighed as one does before telling a rather long story. Seokjin, captivated by this radiant version of him, found himself eager to hear it.
“I always have lunch before my sessions, because I get cranky when I’m hungry and don't talk much, but today I had a busy morning and couldn't grab anything to eat before coming here. Now thanks to this rescheduling, I’ll have the chance to eat at a nearby restaurant I always order from but have never visited.”
He said it all in one breath with almost no variation in tone, trying to get as many words out in the shortest time possible. As if his speech hadn't been funny enough, his cute gasp for air at the end made it impossible for Seokjin not to giggle. Taehyung laughed with him, a little embarrassed of his own childish ways.
“That sounds lucky, indeed.” Seokjin was so caught up in his sudden and overwhelming fondness that his following words came out before he could filter them. “I’m glad you’re feeling better today.”
Taehyung's smile softened without losing its shine. Seokjin lowered his gaze for a moment, face aflame with shame. How insensitive…
When he finally mustered the decency to look up again and open his mouth to apologize, Taehyung beat him to it.
“Me too. I’m sorry if I was rude to you last time we met. I was a mess. Still am, to be honest… I’m a total lost cause.”
The memory of his pale smiles and hollow eyes was a tough pill for Seokjin to swallow, especially when Taehyung stood right before him so cheerfully now. The contrast was excruciating. Seokjin did his best to lighten up the mood.
“Aren't we all?”
Taehyung’s cheeks rose up again to turn his big eyes into slits. There it was. The smile Seokjin had longed to see for weeks, even though he’d been barely aware of such longing until then.
“I guess so.” Taehyung paused to lower his head and brush the hair away from his eyes. “Thank you.”
Seokjin pursed his lips upon seeing Taehyung flustered for the first time. It definitely became him. As quickly as his cheeks had reddened, however, Taehyung recovered and cleared his throat, straightforward as always.
“Another side effect of me being hungry is that I get bolder, so here it comes: would you like to join me for lunch and make my day even luckier?”
Seokjin's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Damn, that kid had balls.
(Not that he had ever thought of Taehyung's lower parts or any parts, for the matter.)
It was Seokjin’s day off at work. He had planned on spending it cleaning up his apartment, grocery shopping to restack his cupboards, maybe watching a movie. Just boring stuff he could do any other day. Real life posed no threats to Taehyung's offer.
Besides, Seokjin had been eager to thank him, to tell him how much Taehyung had helped him, how he’d never forget his small, but meaningful gesture. If Taehyung hadn’t encouraged him to carry that first appointment through, Seokjin would probably have lied to Yoongi, told him it went well, and never returned to Namjoon’s office. Yoongi was an observant friend, but he didn’t pry; he would have bought Seokjin’s bullshit for a few weeks, maybe even months, and his self-sabotage would have delayed his progress for an indefinite amount of time he could no longer afford to waste.
Loud roars coming from his stomach brought him back to reality and corroborated his decision. What better way of showing appreciation than treating someone to a nice meal?
“Guess I’m the lucky man of the day, because I'm starving for some good food and company.” With a dramatic wave of an arm to shrug off his cheesy words, Seokjin motioned to the elevator. “Lead the way.”
The smile on Taehyung’s face reached his eyes with full force. A different hunger rumbled inside Seokjin.
Another month went by in a haze of frequent virtual chatter and strolls around the city. It became a silent arrangement between them: whenever their days off coincided, they took the subway, jumped out at random stops and explored different restaurants together. Food, they found out as soon as they first had a meal together, was among their favorite conversation topics in the world. Seokjin had laughed his ass off watching Taehyung squirm and cry after unknowingly stuffing his mouth with spicy food, whereas Taehyung had been the one who suggested Seokjin might have developed an allergy after he had a garlic-heavy dish and couldn't stop scratching himself.
Of course, life wasn't magically good again. There were still times when Taehyung wouldn't reply to Seokjin's texts for two days straight, then come back with a quiet apology and resume their conversation as normally as possible. On another occasion, Seokjin lashed out on Taehyung for pestering him about which color he should dye his hair next, then turned his phone off for seventeen hours (not that Taehyung was counting) before replying: if you're still interested in my vote, it's black.
Next time they met, Taehyung's hair was darker than Seokjin's worst nightmares.
Their friendship was clanky, unstable, hanging by a thread while loaded with meaning all the time. They never shared more than two half sentences about their past; never asked any questions, either. It was there, hovering over their heads most of the time, but they had become pretty good at not giving it the attention it sought. Namjoon helped a lot in that department.
Against all odds, they did more good to each other than harm.
So when Yoongi confirmed his birthday celebration tradition, a cozy get-together with close friends at his place, it was nothing short of a no-brainer for Seokjin to ask him if Taehyung could go.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your friend,” was Yoongi’s honest reply.
Being in his element set Seokjin’s mind at ease. He knew his way around every room, had already memorized where each item was should he need anything, and most importantly, was the only friend of Yoongi’s who knew where he kept the spare key to his bedroom. Yoongi was a guarded guy; he had his fair share of trauma too, and Seokjin didn't judge him for being cautious. Whatever helps me sleep at night, as Yoongi used to say.
By the time Taehyung arrived, the flat was already buzzing with music and conversation. Seokjin spotted him from the kitchen counter and waved at him. The way his smile didn't reach his eyes was enough indication that something was off.
“Everything okay?” Seokjin asked when Taehyung approached him, and got an unconvincing nod in response.
“Where's your friend?”
That was the easiest question in the world. Of course, Yoongi was with Hoseok. They had finally hooked up a few weeks ago, and had become one of those inseparable couples people can't stand hanging out with for more than five minutes. In all honesty, Seokjin couldn't be happier for his friend. Even his habit of biting his nails to the point of drawing blood had subsided considerably, since whenever he did it in Hoseok’s presence, Hoseok surreptitiously held his hand until he forgot about it.
Thank fucking fuck for Jung Hoseok, Seokjin told himself as he pointed at the lovey dovey couple exchanging some sweet smooches on the balcony. He’d never seen Yoongi smile that big, and they were friends for over a decade.
Once they had a chance to gather, Seokjin introduced Taehyung properly, and they all seemed to get along well. Taehyung was quieter than usual, but Seokjin figured that being invited to a birthday party where you don't know anyone else but the person who invited you could be rather unsettling, so he cut Taehyung some slack and made him an offer he wouldn't refuse.
“Wanna play some video games?”
They provided quite the show to the rest of the crowd, competing neck to neck then beating each other in a surprising turn of events at every new round, until Hoseok asked for Seokjin's help in the kitchen. He offered his joystick to a boy he didn't know that well — one of Hoseok’s friends — who seemed desperate to play, and hurried away upon detecting urgency in Hoseok's face.
There was a huge problem with the cake. Huge as in it accidentally fell on the floor while Hoseok was decorating it and splattered whipped cream all over the tiny kitchen. Yoongi was in the room he’d recently finished turning into his studio with some producer friends; still, Hoseok panicked big time.
If Hoseok left to buy another cake, Seokjin just knew Yoongi would notice his absence in ten seconds, in full “soulmate senses tingling” fashion, so he volunteered to drive to the cake shop and save the night. Taehyung was too enthralled by the game to notice anything around him; Seokjin didn't feel like interrupting his fun and simply texted him an explanation, hoping to be back before Taehyung had detached his eyes from the TV screen.
He was handing Hoseok a brand new cake in less than half an hour, along with a fierce scolding for being clumsy as he monitored the decoration the second time around. Once that was over, Seokjin looked around the living room for Taehyung, frowning upon realizing he was not there. He checked his phone; Taehyung hadn't even read his text. With a tinge of concern in his chest, Seokjin regretted having told him to dye his hair black. It was much easier to spot a blue head in a crowd.
His boisterous laughter was unmistakable, though.
Seokjin found him on the balcony with the same guy who had taken his joystick earlier. They were sharing an armchair, heads crammed together as they watched something funny on the phone, comfortable in their own bubble.
Taehyung's smile reached his eyes for the first time since he’d arrived.
Part of Seokjin was relieved to see him happy. He'd come to realize soon after their friendship started that Taehyung's smile had been one of his favorite sights from day one.
The other part, though, the one with the devil on his shoulder, whispering all sorts of hurtful shit to expose all his vulnerabilities… That was a problem.
He didn't need your company to feel happy. You were gone and he didn't even notice. Finally, as you knew all along, he found someone who's not as fucked up and boring as you. You're such a dumbass for ever thinking he would stick around for long with all the shit you pull.
It was ridiculous, he knew it. Seokjin was perfectly aware of how fucking stupid he looked standing there — watching his friend, the one he had invited, have harmless fun without him —, but he couldn't help the familiar feeling of being completely replaceable coursing through his veins. His blood felt ice cold, his petrified heart sat heavily in his chest. How come Taehyung was having the time of his life with a stranger, but couldn't even bother to read his fucking text?
He swallowed all the progress Namjoon had helped him make, and let the bittersweet taste of history repeating itself fill his mouth. Surely enough, he was bad at feelings, but he could tell when he was no longer wanted and quietly see himself out like no one else.
“One, two, one, two, three, four! Happy birthday to you…”
Hoseok's shrieking voice overtook the apartment, capturing everyone’s attention, including Taehyung’s. He and his new friend lifted their eyes from the phone; only one of them noticed the cake Hoseok was carrying into the living room, though.
Without another thought, Seokjin spun on his heels and joined the rest of the party, making sure to scream at the top of his lungs and clap like there was no tomorrow when Yoongi blew the candles. Taehyung tried to approach him several times as he jumped around his best friend and laughed with all the other people he knew as they spread whipped cream all over Yoongi's face against his will. Seokjin dodged his every attempt.
At some point, Seokjin noticed Taehyung gave up trying to catch his attention. He figured he’d gone back to his younger, funnier, cooler friend who definitely wasn't fucked up in the head like him, and the thought kicked him in the shin. Although his insides still squirmed with anxiety at the thought of having to look at Taehyung again eventually, some of the initial shock and outrage had worn off, allowing shame and regret to creep in as substitutes. The typical symptoms of coming down from a peak of negative feelings started to present themselves. Seokjin was physically and mentally exhausted; all he wanted to do was lie on his bed and cry himself to sleep. He would try to be a grown up again the next day.
“Jungkook-ah, how do you always end up with food all over your face when you eat?”
Hoseok's laughter brought his attention back to the events out of Seokjin's head. He watched, emotionless, as Hoseok slapped the shoulder of the guy Taehyung had been hanging out with earlier. Jungkook just shrugged and kept devouring his slice of cake with a toothy smile and scrunched nose that, along with his big bright eyes, made him resemble a bunny instead of the fox Seokjin's messed up head had made him out to be.
Taehyung was nowhere to be seen.
He felt so entitled all of a sudden. So sick and tired of himself. Why had he felt so betrayed for absolutely no reason? What was the matter with making friends at a party? Had Taehyung committed a felony by having fun with someone who was not him?
Seokjin couldn't bring himself to finish his slice of cake. He was disgusting.
Why would Taehyung, or anyone else, for the matter, want to hang out with someone as pitiful as himself? He didn’t have anything to offer. Taehyung was a literal ray of sunshine, while he was a big fat cumulonimbus cloud who couldn’t stop raining on everyone and everything nice… What had gotten into him?
He checked himself before he started to full on sob in the middle of Yoongi’s crowded living room, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. The guilt for the way he’d felt and acted was too much. Where the fuck had all those toxic thoughts sprung from? He didn’t even realize he’d let his guard down for a split second, then his insecurities escalated in a blink of an eye and brought mayhem to the once peaceful emotions in his heart.
There didn't seem to be enough space in the room for him and his asphyxiating thoughts, so he left the chatty environment as quietly as he could and ran to Yoongi’s room, collecting the key on his way. Once he got to the locked door, however, his breath hitched.
Taehyung was sitting on the floor against it, holding his legs close to his chest, slowly and repeatedly bumping his forehead on his knees. He looked up at the sound of Seokjin's footsteps in the dark corridor.
“What are you doing here?” Seokjin had meant to ask it more softly, but Taehyung's unexpected presence frightened him.
He replied with a hoarse voice. “You invited me.”
If Seokjin hadn't been feeling like shit before, he would definitely start then. Taehyung looked away, and even with the lights off, it was possible to tell his face was puffier than usual.
“You clearly don't want me here anymore,” he stopped for a second to hiccup, and the sound shattered Seokjin's heart. “And trust me, I would have called a cab and gone home already, but my phone ran out of battery.”
Fuck. He was crying. Seokjin's knees threatened to give out, so he leaned on the wall for support.
“What about Jungkook?”
He knew his question could come across as a filthy follow-up to his previous nasty behavior, but he meant it this time. If they’d gotten along so well, why was he sitting here all by himself?
“What about Jungkook?” Taehyung emphasized the second word with a bored tone, wiping his cheek on his sleeve. “He’s Jimin's boyfriend.”
Jimin’s boyfriend.
Jimin, the Jimin, Taehyung's best friend, his very own version of Yoongi. Taehyung knew Jungkook. Seokjin wished he could catch on fire at that very moment for all the preposterous assumptions he’d made and just cease to exist.
“I had no idea he’d be here,” Taehyung continued, getting on his feet. His sharp movements signaled something had snapped in him. “I’m glad he was, because he kept me company when you ditched me to do God knows what. I was having a shitty day already, thanks for making me come all the way here and rub it on my face that you have better friends to hang out with.”
His words felt like a slap to Seokjin's face. Better friends…
No way. He could not be thinking...
When Taehyung took the first step to walk right past him, Seokjin finally managed to move again and grab his wrist.
“Didn't you get my text?”
“What text? I told you my phone died.”
Seokjin closed his eyes and shook his head. What a fucking train wreck.
“Come with me,” he said, unlocking the door and pulling Taehyung inside with him before locking it again. He didn't want anyone to interrupt the long conversation that was about to happen. Taehyung was too fired up to stand still, so he paced back and forth, eyes trained on the floor, hands moving fast to accompany his words.
“Seriously, I don't wanna bother you anymore—”
“Taehyung…”
“You can keep having fun with your friends, I shouldn't have come—”
“Taehyung.”
“Just order me a cab and I’ll be on my way, then you can go back to the party—”
“Taehyung!”
Seokjin was forced to grab him by the shoulders to break him out of his trance. His breathing was labored and his lower lip trembled in the poorly illuminated room.
“I don't want you to leave. I mean, you can leave if you want to, I’ll order you a cab right now if that's the case.” He wiped a lone tear rolling down Taehyung's cheek. “But if you stay… I’m telling you everything.”
Taehyung stared at him for a long while, with eyes bigger than Seokjin had ever seen them and parted lips, adding to his lost puppy look.
“Hyung, you don't have to…”
Seokjin shook his head firmly.
“I want to. I want you to know. Maybe then you’ll understand me better, and my shitty mood swings will hurt you less.”
They sat down on Yoongi's bed, side by side, only their knees touching. After a deep breath, Seokjin let the words flow out of him, unfiltered.
He and his former boyfriend had met at college, became friends against all odds, then roommates, until the inevitable gay awakening took place. His ex had long come to terms with his homosexuality; Seokjin still thought he might be bisexual for some time, but soon realized none of his previous heterosexual experiences compared to being with a man. They had lived together for four whole years of domesticity, romance, and a fair share of sex.
He really thought he had found the one. Seokjin couldn't believe his luck. How many people met their soulmate at the tender age of twenty-two? So many spent their whole lives searching, most even failed to accomplish it, but not him.
Even the most irksome clichés, like marriage, growing old together, adopting a child, started to make sense. How could he be wrong?
Well. He was. Oh, how fucking wrong he was for trusting someone with his whole heart only to get cheated on like a damn fool.
“Everyone changes,” Taehyung told him, a comforting hand on his thigh as the other arm held Seokjin’s trembling shoulders. “Everything changes. Well, almost everything.”
“What doesn't change?” Seokjin didn't even notice he’d started crying until his question was punctuated with a hiccup at the end.
A faint smile appeared on Taehyung’s face. “The fact that everyone and everything changes.”
How could he put himself together when he was broken, chipped, fragmented and scattered all over? If his former lover had merely taken over his heart, occupied every hidden crevice of it, only to extricate himself and leave all those spaces empty again, he might have stood a fighting chance; instead, he’d latched onto pieces that were essentially Seokjin’s and taken those with him on his way out. Seokjin didn't feel like he was a whole person anymore, just a shadow of who he’d once been, forever maimed, corroded, lacking.
“I don’t think I can ever fully trust anyone again. I’m broken, Taehyung-ah. Perhaps beyond repair.”
Taehyung let out a dry chuckle as he rubbed soothing circles on Seokjin's back.
“Bold of you to assume I’m whole.”
Seokjin blinked back tears, confusion swimming in them. Taehyung went on.
“I look the part most days, I know.” He sighed placidly. While Seokjin was a raging ocean, waves crashing down on a rocky shore, Taehyung was a deep, melancholy lake, surface frozen into a thick bar of ice. “For example, you needed me to be put together when we first met, so I did my best to support you. I do have my days of falling apart, though. You’ve had a glimpse of those. They're not pretty.”
Their eyes met at last. Seokjin gave in to his compassionate gaze, and the tenderness he showed Taehyung in return was the spark he needed to open up to Seokjin as well. He allowed himself to be seen, scars and flaws bare, tears hanging from his eyelashes. His voice faltered several times, but the soft smile on his lips remained during the whole time he told Seokjin about his past.
He had been forced to grow up, be strong for his family, since his beloved grandmother showed the first signs of dementia. His face was one of the very few she never fully forgot, his name the only one she called until the very end. So he’d had to put on a happy façade for her every day, no matter how hard he wanted to cry and wither in her place. She'd been gone for about a year, after five painful ones slowly losing pieces of herself until there was barely nothing left of the woman who had taught him almost everything he knew about love, kindness and the final, hardest lesson of all: grief.
Taehyung doubled over his lap, holding his middle as sobs raked him. It was one of the most painful sights Seokjin had ever seen. His voice came out strained, often caught in his throat, but he told Seokjin everything as well. He almost gagged once, choking on his pain, and Seokjin was thankful they were safe in Yoongi’s room, where he knew the exact location of a garbage bin if Taehyung needed it.
“I can't promise to fix you, and I don't expect you to return the favor.” Seokjin put his hand on the back of Taehyung’s once his crying subsided a little, and caressed the knuckles with his thumb. “But you bring me peace. You make me feel like maybe I still belong here. Perhaps there are still reasons to get out of bed in the morning.”
A sniffle erupted from Taehyung. Although his head hung low, he turned his palm upwards to intertwine their fingers. Seokjin knew he was smiling at least a little bit, because his cheeks went up, like the cupcakes Namjoon had encouraged him to learn how to bake as they listed calming, grounding hobbies for bad days. He wanted to kiss them; he didn’t hold back, and Taehyung didn't refuse him. The relieved sigh that escaped him, as if he'd been expecting that for oh, so long, filled Seokjin's heart with warmth.
“You know there will be more bumps in the road, right? Days when we’ll be bad for each other.” Seokjin wiped another tear from his face as Taehyung spoke. His hand lingered on Taehyung's cheek, his knuckles caressing the moist skin in a feather-like touch. “I can't promise to be strong for you every time you need. I figure the same applies to you.”
“I know. But I want to believe there'll be many more days when we’ll be so good together.” Seokjin brought their foreheads close, let Taehyung's healing presence spread through him and make him smile, like his own happy virus. “I’m willing to take that leap of faith again, for the first time in what feels like forever. I understand if you aren't, and my feelings for you won't change. We’ll always be friends, that much I can promise.”
Taehyung didn't reply, at least not verbally. Instead, he leaned into the touch, and the most beautiful smile blossomed on his lips, as if he’d seen all the promises Seokjin knew he deserved, but couldn't offer, in his eyes. More tears streamed down his face when he finally spoke, in a much more confident tone.
“Please don't friendzone me before I even get to kiss you.”
Seokjin stared at him in disbelief, then jerked his hand away while bumping their adjoining knees together. Taehyung flinched jokingly, only to come back and pull Seokjin closer for a hug. He kissed the shell of Seokjin’s ear, massaged the nape of his neck with his long fingers. Seokjin felt so light in his arms, floating in crystalline, sunkissed waters.
“You deserve to be loved, hyung. Don't ever forget that.”
The words sent goosebumps through his whole body. Seokjin gripped the shoulder of his sleeve, holding on to him for dear life. He bit back a sob, though a tear trickled down his cheek and stained Taehyung’s sweater anyway.
“So do you, Taehyungie.” He pulled back a few seconds later to say the next words looking into Taehyung’s glistening eyes, while persistently wiping the remaining tear trails from his face. “I know I don't have much, but I will do my best to love you.”
“Hyung...”
With half-lidded eyes, Taehyung angled his chin up, completely drunk on elation. Seokjin nodded slowly, perfectly understanding Taehyung's soft moaning of the honorific he'd come to love more than he'd ever imagined. He licked his own lips before kissing Taehyung, heart bursting at the seams with long suppressed affection and desire.
Seokjin was drowning, yes, as Yoongi and Namjoon had said countless times before. He found out that night, however, that he no longer minded gasping for air, as long as Taehyung was also struggling to breathe in his arms, refusing to part their lips, smiling into the kiss with eyes closed — trusting that somehow they would find their way to the surface together.