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The tournament is truly to nobody’s liking, but Yoongi’s father is rigid about following tradition and Yoongi knows better than to get in the way of that. It is customary in their ancestry that alphas prove their worth as a mate to an omega before the two of them are joined in matrimony.
Seokjin, Yoongi’s only older sibling, was the only exception. As the one who’ll inherit the Duke’s title, Seokjin’s match had more to do with political gains than courting sports, but from what Yoongi’s seen of the two of them in the past few years, Seokjin and Namjoon only seem to be partly joined by doctrine.
Jimin, Yoongi’s other sibling and an omega like him, is a whole lot more combative in his intentions. Their father would have to be blind to not see how taken he was with his guard and knight, Jung Hoseok. But as it was, there had been not a cause to worry because Hoseok easily bested his opponents and won Jimin’s hand in a marriage that couldn’t be challenged by anybody.
Yoongi, however, had a fate like neither of them. His previous marriage had been a political one, perhaps the most talked about match that Season. The Season’s diamond, they’d called him for catching the eye of the Prince and securing his hand in marriage in just a month’s time.
But just a year after their courtship, Yoongi found himself the prime subject of the ton’s gossip once again. Nothing enraptures them quite like the news of a widowed omega or one with child. And Yoongi was both.
Jungkook is four now, sat giggling in Jimin’s lap on Yoongi’s right, probably the only one excited about the entire ordeal.
“Anybody caught your eye?” Jimin leans to the side and whispers in Yoongi’s ear, hidden behind the shade of Yoongi’s fan.
Yoongi would roll his eyes, but Jimin is sincere. As is everybody in his family. Nothing but concerned and genuine. And Yoongi wonders what they’d think if they knew the truth. The thought makes him almost laugh out loud and he conceals it with his fan, bringing it up to the bridge of his nose till only his eyes are visible to everyone in the audience.
The truth is, Yoongi couldn’t care less about any of the alphas standing in the ring below him, baring their chests and flexing their muscles for Yoongi to see. There aren’t as many of them as there had been before. He’d have to be blind to not notice the stark difference in the numbers of the competitors in the previous tournament held for him and this one. Nobody wants “used goods” after all.
It might’ve angered him in the past, but the Yoongi of now, four years into having Jungkook, can hardly gather sufficient energy to care. Jimin is the one who’s ready to gut the gossip mongers at any social event that they attend, fiercely protective as he is of Yoongi, and Yoongi can’t help the fondness he feels at the thought of somebody else being angry on his behalf.
“They all look the same,” Yoongi answers once his eyes do a cursory sweep of the men lined up to fight for his hand in marriage. It is the truth. Once they reach a certain size, all alphas look the same to him, blurring together till they’re all just sweaty chests, leery eyes, and pea-brained conversations.
Jimin snorts as he leans away.
“You’re so pricey.”
From the corner of his eye, Yoongi sees fingers wrap around Jimin’s neck from behind and give it a tight reproachful squeeze.
“As he should be,” Seokjin says as he sweeps into the chair to Yoongi’s left, “and as is his right.” And then with a meaningful look in Yoongi’s direction. “The event is organised to give him options, not to have him settle.”
Yoongi smiles, feeling at ease with both of them by his side. He knows most omegas don’t get this privilege. Hardly any omega gets to remarry once widowed. And certainly none of them get to have their pick. Yoongi is fortunate. He knows none of the contenders are here for him. He is not foolish enough to believe that. He’s just fortunate enough to be the brother to the future Duke, and that gets him a decent number of suitors who would marry him despite the fact that Yoongi has a child from another alpha.
Not that he has to marry anybody. Seokjin and Jimin had made sure of that. He could reject every alpha present here, and that perhaps is his only respite in the entire evening. It is what he expects too. Yoongi has no intention of marrying anybody here, or anybody ever. He appreciates what everybody is doing for him, what his family is doing for him, but it is hard for him to tell them that it isn’t just about him spending his heats alone. It’s not just about the terrible loneliness he carries in his chest, like one of these nights it’ll come crawling up to his throat and throttle him in his sleep.
It is no longer just Yoongi. It’s Yoongi and Jungkook, and Yoongi is not looking for a partner for himself. If he’s going to invite an alpha into his life, they’re going to have to be good enough for Jungkook too. And in Yoongi’s honest opinion, nobody is ever going to be good enough for Jungkook. Definitely none of these knot-headed alphas who think flexing their biceps in Yoongi’s face would earn them his favor.
Yoongi’s father finally makes a stand, and everyone in the stadium sits straighter. Yoongi slumps further back into his seat, wholly uninterested in the entire unnecessary protocol. He’s seen it once before and has no desire to go through it again, but Jimin pinches his skin when the Duke waves a hand and gestures towards the competitors.
The first suitor steps forward, bowing first before the Duke and then turning and taking a few steps towards Yoongi before kneeling on the ground in front of him.
Seokjin glances at Yoongi, and Yoongi sighs before nodding in resignation. Seokjin makes an acceding gesture, allowing the man to rise.
The alpha introduces himself, a name that Yoongi can’t recall moments after he hears it. He supposes the alpha could be called handsome, built large and stance strong, confidence visibly thrumming through his veins.
Seokjin nods in Yoongi’s stead, and the alpha steps forward to present his offering. It’s an alexandrite gemstone cushioned inside an embroidered box. The stone is rare and highly sought after, and Yoongi is almost impressed until the man opens his mouth and goes on a long spiel likening Yoongi’s beauty to the rarity of the stone, and Yoongi has to remind himself of Jungkook’s company to keep from swearing out loud.
Jimin takes the offered stone, and he and Yoongi share a look where Yoongi very clearly shakes his head behind his fan. Jimin takes the gift back from Jungkook’s small curious hands and returns it to the alpha. Much to Yoongi’s annoyance, the alpha doesn’t seem fazed and simply bows at the waist and promises to win Yoongi’s heart during the tournament.
The tiring ordeal continues, competitor after competitor, and towards the end of it Yoongi is slumped fully in his chair, entirely exhausted and irritated. Jungkook is the only one who seems to be having fun, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at all the gifts he examines with his tiny hands and big rabbit-like eyes. Even Jimin looks unimpressed with the suitors so far. The gifts that followed the first were hardly different from it, all of them some variation of a gem or an ornament.
Yoongi is close to dropping the polite interest he’s been feigning the entire evening when there’s a faint noise in the distance. Yoongi looks at the gate barring the entrance into the stadium, but from where he's seated, he cannot tell the cause behind the commotion. There is some murmuring amongst the guards, one of them scurrying to the Duke who’s seated on the platform not far away from Yoongi, and Yoongi’s father makes an acceding gesture. With his permission, the guards eventually part and Yoongi discerns the figure of a man approaching the competitors that are gathered on the side of the field. He’s carrying what appears to be a wooden crate in his arms, and as he draws closer, Yoongi can tell that he’s no nobility.
Dressed in commoners’ clothes, the alpha stands out from the rest of the crowd. Commoners are permitted to participate in courting events, but a commoner marrying into nobility is almost unheard of. Yoongi is quite sure he’s never heard of a match like that. A story of somebody choosing to marry below their station instead of above would definitely make its way around the ton for months to come.
But as the alpha comes closer, all traces of disinterest vanish from Yoongi’s mind. His stomach twists with a sudden horrifying wave of dread when he spots a familiar mop of black unruly hair, golden tan skin, eyes bright like stars and a mouth twisted into a shy smile.
The alpha stops to bow before the Duke who regards him with feigned interest. Yoongi's fan falls from his fingers and into his lap, revealing his face to the crowd for the first time, and he feels Jimin’s eyes on him, but Yoongi doesn’t look at him.
His gaze is pinned to the man who turns to face him, and when their eyes meet for the first time, Yoongi’s lips part unbidden.
“Taehyung,” he whispers, loud enough to have both Seokjin and Jimin’s heads twisting around to look at him in surprise.
Taehyung smiles at Yoongi hesitantly before he drops down to his knees before him.
“You know him?” Jimin hisses into his ear. Yoongi sees Seokjin glance at him in question, but Yoongi doesn't meet either of their eyes. This time, he lifts his own hand and twists his wrist, beckoning towards Taehyung with a finger, ordering him to stand up.
“Kim Taehyung,” Taehyung says once he’s upright and his eyes are fixed onto Yoongi’s. His voice is deep and rich, and if Yoongi hadn't known him like he did, he might have missed the slight quiver of uncertainty behind it, but he can hear it just as well as he can see the way Taehyung holds his present for Yoongi close to his chest, as if embarrassed to offer it to him.
He doesn’t have a choice in the matter though because Seokjin gestures at him to present it, and Taehyung takes a moment to close his eyes before he pulls them open and takes in a visible steadying breath. He presents the gift to Jimin, and Yoongi leans forward to take a look at what’s inside the wooden box.
The sight has him pulling in a quick sharp breath.
“Tangerines,” Yoongi says, and when he looks down at Taehyung, the alpha looks visibly nervous. He rubs the back of his neck and suddenly seems unable to meet Yoongi’s eyes.
“I noticed that you liked them, Your Grace,” he says softly, “you always visited the gardens to pick them. I grew these ones myself. They’re fresh and ripe. Even if you don’t permit me to court you, I thought you should still be able to enjoy them.”
He falls silent, and Yoongi can feel everyone’s gaze on him. He stares at the crate full of orange fruit, feeling a storm brewing inside his chest. Nobody in the stadium realises just how truly dangerous Taehyung is to Yoongi, and Yoongi is frozen where he sits, unable to grasp what he should do.
He never expected to see Taehyung again, and for a moment, Yoongi feels the familiar constriction in his chest, like something is squeezing his windpipe and he cannot breathe. In just a few moments, it feels as if the past four years didn’t occur and Yoongi is transported back in time and—
The spell is broken when Jungkook tugs at Yoongi’s sleeve, and Yoongi looks up at his son in bewilderment and then at the rest of the crowd watching him. He tightens his grip around the box and remembers where he is and what he is and nods, unable to trust himself to speak or meet Taehyung’s eyes.
It takes Jimin a moment to recover from his shock, and when he makes Yoongi’s acceptance of the gift known to all, the entire stadium erupts in whispers. From the corner of his eye, Yoongi sees Taehyung joining the other competitors, and when Jimin whips his head to stare at him in bewilderment, Yoongi shrinks into his seat.
“How do you know him?”
It is Seokjin who speaks the question, and Yoongi closes his eyes and reigns in whatever emotion is visible on his face. It is of no use, he knows it. Seokjin has always been able to see right through him, and there’s never been any reason to hide anything from him.
Until now.
“He was a gardener back at the palace,” Yoongi says.
It is hardly an explanation, and both of them know it. For Yoongi to remember Taehyung’s name and recognise him on sight is incriminating enough, but thankfully Seokjin and Jimin don’t push any further. Yoongi sees them share a look when they think he isn’t looking, but he lets them go at it. Whatever they’re imagining won’t come anywhere close to the truth. The truth is—the truth is that Yoongi didn’t lie.
Taehyung was a gardener, well he was really just an apprentice of one, unimportant enough to go unnoticed by the officials in the court, but that just made him all the more perfect for Yoongi. Yoongi had visited the gardens for the first time with the Prince. The gardens themselves didn’t hold anything of interest to him, but he had spotted Taehyung working on a few pots quietly in a corner. The man was an alpha, it had been obvious even amidst all the scents of the flowers, but he was quiet, and the combination had seemed almost humorous to Yoongi at the time. He never thought he’d see those two traits coexist together. It was a comical musing, a small one at the time, one that didn’t grow any further until months later.
Months later, Yoongi visited the gardens again. Taehyung was hard to find amidst all the plants, but Yoongi found him. And this time his visit held a much larger purpose. He’d gained a considerable amount of knowledge about the plants they grew in the gardens since his first visit, but he’d pretended to be clueless about them anyway and had asked Taehyung to teach their names to him.
Taehyung was easy to fluster and eager to please, and as Yoongi’s visits to the garden grew, Taehyung’s feelings for him grew all the more apparent. It was endearing, and made him even more perfect for the job, because when one year into his marriage and seven months into his pregnancy Yoongi asked Taehyung to grow the poison ivy in the garden, Taehyung had taken one look at the fading bruises of fingers encircling Yoongi’s throat and had done it without a singular sound of protest.
But now as Yoongi watches him enter the ring full of posturing alphas, he feels as if he’s about to watch his life collapse and combust into flaming dust. It makes no sense for Taehyung to come here after all these years and attempt to court him. He must know by now that Yoongi only used him as a means to his own ends, and the more Yoongi thinks about it, the less sense it makes. Taehyung should despise him, and for a brief second, Yoongi thinks that must be it. Taehyung must be here to blackmail and extort him with the truth that only he knows.
But then he recalls Taehyung’s hesitant smile when he presented him with his gift. Tangerines.
A lump makes itself known in Yoongi’s tight throat, but he forcefully swallows it down. Deep down, he already knows what he wants. It would be foolish to deny it when he cannot even bring himself to tear his eyes away from Taehyung’s body as the alpha shakes out his arms and legs in order to prepare for combat. He feels Jimin’s eyes on him, but Yoongi resolutely doesn’t meet them.
Once the offerings are complete, most of the suitors looking disgruntled when Yoongi accepts no gifts presented to him after Taehyung’s, the Duke rises from his seat to begin the tournament at last. Taehyung isn’t in the first dueling pair, and Yoongi can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved.
“Don’t,” Jimin warns him under his breath, and Yoongi crushes his fingers into fists in his lap. “He might not win.”
He knows that. If Taehyung was nobility, it wouldn’t matter. The tournament is more a traditional formality than anything else. But Jimin is right. The only reason Hoseok and he are where they are is because Hoseok single-handedly slammed all of his opponents down on the floor in front of everybody and effectively sealed their mouths shut. And Hoseok was a Knight, not born nobility but still high enough on the ladder to be respected in social circles.
Taehyung is a gardener. There is a gorge of a social strata between him and the others. Hoseok was trained in the military, but Yoongi has never seen Taehyung fight or show even a tint of aggression in their time together. He is an alpha, Yoongi holds no doubt about that. He has seen him work in the gardens, lifting heavy pots from one corner to the other, but plain physical strength and actual hand-to-hand combat that requires years of technical training and skill are two entirely separate matters.
Yoongi hardly pays attention to the first duel, only making note of the winner so he can gauge how Taehyung might fare against him if they are pitted against each other. He feels on edge, heart hammering against his ribs each time his father rises to announce the next two contenders to engage in combat. He knows he’s being unreasonable. He’s long since recognised his feelings, but things are different now. Four years have passed since they last saw one another, and the man in front of him is no longer the Taehyung who’d blush as easily as a rose just from the touch of Yoongi’s gaze on him. The man before him has long since learnt of Yoongi’s intentions and recognised him for what he is.
But none of that is able to keep Yoongi’s eyes away from him, or stop his heart from threatening to have him fall out of his seat when Taehyung’s name is called out for the third duel.
It is Jimin who has to press Yoongi into his seat, fingers digging into the flesh of Yoongi’s arm in warning.
“Show some restraint,” he hisses, and Yoongi grits his teeth but obeys.
Taehyung has to fight an alpha Yoongi has never favoured, and the entire stadium must be able to hear the way Yoongi’s heart thrashes against his chest, a lot more honest than he’s ever been.
But the fates must be ridiculing him, because it is not a moment into the match when all of Yoongi’s initial presumptions about Taehyung’s fighting prowess are proven wrong all at once. Taehyung’s opponent charges at him with the force of a bull, but Taehyung side-steps him easily and using the alpha’s own momentum against him, throws him into the mud headfirst.
The crowds gasp with surprise, and Yoongi holds his breath as Taehyung easily beats the alpha with little to no effort. He is smart, Yoongi realises with a dawning sense of dread, and the match is over almost as soon as it began with Taehyung barely out of breath and his opponent trapped to the floor with his wrists bound behind his back and Taehyung’s knee digging into his spine.
When his victory is announced, Taehyung stands back up and turns to where Yoongi is seated on the platform, and Yoongi freezes when their eyes catch.
Taehyung smiles at him and dips his head slightly as if in reverence.
Yoongi slumps back into his chair, dumbfounded.
The duels continue, and Yoongi hides his face behind his fan once again because Jimin and Seokjin appear to have dropped whatever reservations they held about Taehyung, having taken to finding amusement in the hue of Yoongi’s cheeks instead each time Taehyung enters the ring.
Namjoon joins them just before the final few rounds begin and only a handful of alphas are left to compete further into the tournament.
“What did I miss?” he asks as he comes to stand behind Seokjin’s seat, bending down to press a kiss into his hair.
“Yoongi wants to jump the commoner,” Jimin informs him, and Yoongi would smack him if they weren’t in public.
Namjoon’s eyes widen for a brief moment before his face breaks into a dimpled smile, and the alpha looks back at Yoongi with a sincerity only he can manage.
“Well, for your sake, hyung, I hope he wins.”
Despite what it may look like now, Yoongi knows that it took a long time for Namjoon and Seokjin to reach where they are. Manufactured marriages rarely ever work out like theirs, Yoongi knows it from experience, and he turns and looks back at Taehyung, surprised to find Taehyung watching him as well.
Taehyung smiles at him, and for a moment Yoongi stiffens in his seat, but then he looks away, unable to meet the alpha’s gaze without the guilt churning afresh in the pit of his belly.
The rest of the tournament passes like a blur in Yoongi’s eyes. Save for Taehyung’s matches, he couldn’t care less about who wins or loses. Taehyung gains his next two wins easily; the third one, Taehyung’s fourth fight, is harder, and Yoongi can see the exhaustion clearly from the curve of his back. He doesn’t give his opponent any opportunity to get him, but Yoongi can tell the continuous matches are tiring him out and each consequent duel has been longer than the one before it.
“He’s good.” Even Hoseok sounds impressed from where he’s been watching the matches silently. He’d joined them in time to catch the last few matches of the round, and Yoongi can see him assessing all the contenders with a skilled eye. “Certainly trained, and I don’t just mean his body. He’s been observing everybody from the sidelines, picking up on their tells and using them against them in the matches.”
Taehyung wins his fifth bout, which puts him in the final round but also gives him no time to recuperate. He’s panting and bleeding from the mouth, a stray punch from his previous opponent that Taehyung was too slow to dodge, but he wipes it with his fist and bends at the knees as his final opponent enters the ring.
It’s the suitor who’d introduced himself first, and Yoongi can make out his confident grin even from this distance. He’s bigger than Taehyung, muscles prominent and trained in a way that gives him a leverage over Taehyung in all the important ways when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, and despite Taehyung proving him wrong on every account, Yoongi feels fearful for him anyway. He knows now that Taehyung is nothing like the man he left behind in the palace gardens four years ago without a word of a warning or goodbye, but his heart clenches into itself anyway, uncaring of the four years of distance between them.
The crowd has hushed into silence, anticipatory of the match between the final contenders. And Taehyung stands still, letting his pants ease into something quieter as he waits for the commencement of the bout.
When it comes, the Duke’s roaring voice drowns out the noise from the alpha’s sprinting charge, and Yoongi’s mouth parts in a pained gasp when Taehyung spins to dodge it but catches a graze of the attack on his forearm. It is obvious that his opponent’s energy hasn’t flagged from his previous matches, but Taehyung is certainly slower than before. By the time he goes to parry the second attack, his opponent is already in the middle of his strike, and Taehyung catches it on the meat of his thigh. He falls back to try to further the distance between them, but his opponent is relentless, closing the distance between them again in no time, and for his part, Taehyung doesn’t stop moving. He’s mostly defensive, focused entirely on sliding away from the critical hits and catching others in places that wouldn’t be fatal. The crowd groans each time Taehyung rolls out of the range of an attack, and Yoongi curls his fingers into the fabric of his robes.
Just a few hours prior to the tournament, Yoongi couldn’t have cared less about who won it. He wouldn’t have permitted them or anybody else to court him. But now, with each blow that bruises Taehyung’s skin, Yoongi feels like he is the one who bears it.
After a while, it is evident that the ruthless brutal blocking is tiring Taehyung out as well. The alpha is cornering him, and Taehyung is falling back just as easily. They’re at least twenty meters from where they started, almost at the edge of the boundary, and Taehyung must know it too because he pauses for one precarious moment when he’s close to the edge of the ring, and the alpha sees it.
It is a tempting target, and Yoongi has to clench his teeth from crying out when the alpha goes in for the attack.
Except, something unexpected happens, and the alpha loses his footing when he’s spinning for a powerful kick aimed at Taehyung’s temple.
“Oh, he’s good,” Hoseok whistles just as Taehyung moves with an unprecedented speed, ducking easily to dodge the kick and landing a hit at the back of the alpha’s legs that has the alpha falling forward on his knees.
When Yoongi tears his eyes from the match and glances at Hoseok, the knight is grinning and leaning forward to watch the arena with an eagerness he didn’t display for any of the prior matches.
“He’s been observing the terrain,” Hoseok explains, and Yoongi doesn’t understand until he leans forward and catches how the terrain is rougher around the edges of the ring where Taehyung and his opponent now stand. “He’s been falling back to lead them both there.”
It’s almost as if everything Yoongi saw before this was a facade. Taehyung’s movements are fierce and fast now, nothing like what they’d been at the beginning of the bout. He moves with precision and a dogged determination, and his opponent can only block the worst of the attacks as he lies twisted on the ground below him.
The match comes to a close after a few minutes when Taehyung twists the alpha’s arms behind him with a very real threat of pulling them off him, and the alpha frantically taps out but Taehyung doesn’t let go of him until he meets the eyes of everybody in the audience, as if silently daring them to challenge his victory.
The stadium is silent when Taehyung finally lets go of the man. Yoongi watches him stagger upright, arms almost hanging off his shoulders and body bleeding from at least four different places.
If Yoongi’s father is disappointed with the outcome of the tournament, he doesn’t show it. He rises from his seat, and everyone follows him as he walks to the front of the platform.
“The winner of this tournament, Kim Taehyung!” The crowd cheers, and Taehyung folds himself into a bow before the Duke once again. “Yoongi, do you permit this man to court—” His father is turning around to face him with expectation, but Yoongi has already torn Jimin’s hand from his arm and is leaping off the platform without a single thought or care.
The stadium bursts into an eruption of whispers at the spectacle as Yoongi sprints across the field towards Taehyung, but he can’t bring himself to care, and when Taehyung lifts his head to look at him, Yoongi’s legs can’t hold him. They tremble and drop him to his knees.
“Your Grace,” Taehyung says, lips trembling into a smile when Yoongi cups his bloodied face in his palms, and Yoongi’s heart clenches with a pain all too familiar.
His throat feels so tight, but he twists his head and barks at the guards. “Bring a healer! Quickly!”
It doesn’t take long before attendants arrive to inspect Taehyung’s wounds, and after confirming some bruised ribs and a dislocated shoulder, they begin to take him away to the healers. Yoongi starts to follow them, but Seokjin holds him back and Yoongi grudgingly obeys, knowing better than to make a scene bigger than he already has.
His father gives him a look that certainly means that they’re going to have a chat later in the day, and not long after, Yoongi is escorted out of the stadium by Jimin and his attendants.
He feels restless for the remaining day, the events of the day hitting him ten times as hard when he is forced to recall his time in the palace. Everything feels big and consequential, like all that he’s known to be his life for the past four years is going to be uprooted very soon, and Yoongi feels so wholly unprepared for it all.
Thankfully, Seokjin and Jimin let him be with his thoughts for the rest of the day, and he sits Jungkook down and talks to him, but it is truly Taehyung who he needs to speak with. They would meet the next day, but Yoongi knows that they won’t get the privacy he needs then. So when the dark descends and everyone retires to their rooms after the last meal, Yoongi leaves Jungkook with Jimin and slips into the hallway barefoot, careful to not make a noise that would alert the guards.
Finding Taehyung is not a problem. Yoongi hasn’t been able to smell anything but his scent for the entire day. It is quite a walk from Yoongi’s own rooms, but once he stands before the doors to the quarters given to Taehyung, Yoongi knocks his knuckles against the wood twice and doesn’t wait for a response before he slips past them.
Taehyung’s lying on a bed, his face turned to the side where the curtains are tugged back to reveal a wide window that oversees the vast gardens around the house. He must not have expected his visitor to be Yoongi because he leaps up at the sight of him and then winces at the quick movement, one hand coming up to grab at his bandaged side.
Yoongi almost surges forward to help him but then remembers his place a moment later. He remains where he is with his hands in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, frozen in his uncertainty about where the two of them stand.
Taehyung lifts his head to meet his eyes, and they hold the contact for a long time, but when Yoongi doesn’t make a motion to move, Taehyung smiles and gestures at him to come closer, delicately shifting and making space for Yoongi to sit at the edge of the bed.
Yoongi bites his lip and occupies the offered seat, and for a long moment the two of them watch each other in silence. There is white gauze where his wounds were, and his hair is no longer matted with sweat and blood. Taehyung looks almost younger under the warm glow of the oil lamp kept on the nightstand beside the bed, his features softer and the shadows in his eyes not as dark as they’d been when he stood in the bloody arena, daring anybody to challenge his worth.
“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asks him softly. The yellow light makes everything feel like a dream, and Yoongi fears that speaking any louder would somehow rip the reverie from its seams.
“It looks a lot worse than it feels,” Taehyung assures him, face losing some of its tension, and one of his hands comes to rest over Yoongi’s. They fall into silence once again. Taehyung seems to be searching Yoongi’s face for something, but Yoongi has never felt more unaware of what he’s thinking.
“I’m glad,” Taehyung speaks into the silence between them all of a sudden, lips stretched into a sad smile that Yoongi doesn’t understand.
“What?”
“To know that you care,” Taehyung says and Yoongi feels his throat go dry. He watches Taehyung tip his head back against the wall and stare up at the ceiling. “I spent years thinking...”
There’s an unmistakable quiver in Taehyung’s voice as it grows the slightest bit wetter, and Yoongi feels the lump in his own throat grow as Taehyung blinks back obvious tears.
“I’m just glad that it wasn’t all a lie. You care. That’s good to know.”
The guilt comes flooding back all at once, and Yoongi struggles to breathe as it threatens to drown him.
“Of course—” he stutters, crushing his robes in his fists, “of course I care, you—I—” he trails off, suddenly at a loss for words, not knowing what to say other than the obvious.
I’m sorry.
Taehyung smiles but doesn’t say anything. He continues to watch the ceiling, and Yoongi doesn’t know what they’re doing.
“Why are you here, Taehyung?” he asks him finally after a minute of neither of them saying a word.
Taehyung looks at him again, but instead of answering, he asks, “don’t you want to know what I did in the last four years?”
He doesn’t seem to be waiting for Yoongi’s response because he’s speaking again.
“I left the palace. Soon after you did. I waited at first. I thought you’d come back.” Taehyung laughs, and Yoongi wants to do anything but. He digs his nails into his palms till the flesh is carved with crescents. “Well, at some point I realised that you weren’t going to. And that they’d come for me instead. So I fled the gardens and joined the military.”
“Wait, what—”
“Everybody told me I wasn’t cut out for it,” Taehyung goes on without stopping. He’s smiling but it’s so obviously forced, lips stretched so tight, Yoongi almost cannot recognise the Taehyung before him. “They were right. I wasn’t. You always said I was too soft for an alpha. And at first, I think I was still trying to become somebody you wouldn’t leave behind. I thought that perhaps if I wasn’t so weak, if I’d stepped up sooner to help you—”
“Taehyung-ah, no.” Yoongi feels frantic. “That’s not—me leaving had nothing to do with you.”
“What was it about then?” Taehyung cuts in. There’s a hardness to his face, and Yoongi realises that this is the Taehyung of the past four years. The Taehyung that he knew was starry eyes and sweet giggles, fantasies of bunnies on the moon and a fondness for strawberries and the cakes Yoongi would steal from the kitchens for him.
“Why did you leave me behind?” Taehyung asks him, blunt and unapologetic. “You asked me why I’m here. This is the reason. I want to know. After you left, I struggled to tell what was real between us and what wasn’t. Some days I was bitter, angry at myself for having deluded myself into believing some nobility would be interested in me. A gardener!” Taehyung laughs, a sound so bitter and humorless, Yoongi’s heart breaks. “The other days I convinced myself that it couldn’t all be a farce. So please tell me the truth, Your Grace, and put me out of my misery.”
“I—” The words grate at his throat. Shame and guilt try to twist his tongue, but it’s been four years and there’s nobody right now who deserves his honesty any more than Taehyung does.
“I was scared.”
The surprise softens Taehyung’s face, but Yoongi trudges on, the words so honest they feel foreign on his tongue.
“I had Jungkook and I could no longer trust anybody besides myself. I was scared they’d find out, and I—I shouldn’t have left you like that. I know, fuck I knew even then, and I wanted to go back, so many times and so much. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it or to confront you. I knew you’d hate me for what I did, and I—I was scared.” He feels his voice waver, and Yoongi looks at his lap when the heat behind his eyes doesn’t disappear even when Yoongi tries to blink it back. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t know what expression Taehyung is wearing and finds himself too scared to find out. He startles when he feels fingers on his chin, forcing him to look up at Taehyung.
“I don’t hate you,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi is startled out of his thoughts when Taehyung pulls him closer by the chin he has trapped between his fingers.
“I love you.”
The words are uttered like a breath, a soft inhale, and Yoongi is frozen where Taehyung has brought their faces so close together, it’s impossible to not see the sincerity that softens his eyes. “That’s why I came here today. To get a chance to tell you what I couldn’t then.”
There’s no way Taehyung can’t hear Yoongi’s heart thrashing wildly inside his chest.
“Taehyung—”
“I don’t expect anything. More than anything, I just regretted not telling you how I felt. I understand why you left, and it’s been four years so it’s really—”
Yoongi grabs him by the neck and pulls him in sharply, colliding their mouths together in a kiss that is more violent than anything else. He feels Taehyung’s mouth part in shock, but Yoongi presses harder, and then Taehyung is kissing him back, just as hard.
The kiss isn’t deep, but they remain pressed together for long, and Yoongi is panting when they finally part for air.
“Was that sufficient, or do you need further proof of my feelings?” he asks him, and isn’t surprised at all when Taehyung grins.
“No, I don’t think I am entirely convinced—”
And they’re kissing once again, but it’s difficult when they’re both smiling into it.
Later, they’d navigate to the bed and talk some more, about Jungkook and about the lives they spent apart, and Taehyung would bring Yoongi’s knuckles to his lips and ask, Min Yoongi, would you let me into your life again and do me the honor of letting me court you?
And Yoongi would say yes in a heartbeat.