Archive of Our Own

“Oh my god, I think I really saw one.”

It’s a whisper, uttered away from Yoongi too. Yoongi catches it because he’s paying close attention. By now, he’s lost the sound of the stream; he’s lost the point of location of the trekking path, so he’d best not lose track of his companion, too.

Taehyung’s legs are long and golden — fit for the runway — and carry him far quickly, even when he’s aiming to sneak up on the mountain cat. The yamaneko, native to the island.

Not that Yoongi has actually seen any evidence of the cat, but he felt he’d had no other choice but to follow Taehyung when he’d wandered off, camera at the ready. None of his friends had trusted that Taehyung could do the trek alone. That was why Yoongi had eventually been voluntold to join Taehyung (who he is decidedly not friends with), and wasn’t instead on the fishing trip off the coast with Seokjin and Hoseok. Hell, he would have preferred to join the others on the canoe trip through the mangroves over spending time with Taehyung.

He’d booked the fishing tour weeks ago.

Instead, he’s pushing through all sorts of wild vegetation to keep Taehyung in sight.

“We probably shouldn’t wander this far away?” he suggests, tries not to glower when Taehyung automatically makes a shushing sound when he raises his voice.

He appears determined to catch sight of the Iriomote cat, which Yoongi had absolutely not spotted. He doubts Taehyung has, given that the species is highly endangered, barely stands above a couple of hundreds inhabiting the island.

“We can’t let this chance pass, imagine photographing it...”

The whisper devolves into something barely intelligible. Probably because Taehyung remembers that Yoongi had failed to bring his own camera, which he’d been carrying around faithfully throughout the trip. Today, Yoongi had left it in the hotel room’s safety box. He’d thought it best not to commemorate wasting time from his first vacation in years on someone as distant and pretentious as Taehyung; no matter how breathtaking the waterfalls at the end of the hike may turn out to be.

Turned out to be the right decision, as Yoongi seriously doubts he will ever witness the view, not with how off-course Taehyung had brought them.

However, Taehyung had brought his camera (shinier, newer, bigger, more professional than Yoongi’s) and had expressed quite a bit of disappointment that they wouldn’t be in a position to compare photographs and share tips. After years of Taehyung completely icing him out, Yoongi hadn’t felt particularly moved by Taehyung’s disappointed whines.

“Imagine getting lost in the jungle because you bolted out of the path, chasing after nothing,” Yoongi grumbles, loud enough for Taehyung to hear, but only if he’s paying the same close attention Yoongi is.

Taehyung doesn’t slow down, white kimono jacket billowing in a white and blue trail behind him as he forges a way forward. The fabric is like blue pottery, delicate and beautiful — completely inappropriate for Yoongi’s friends’ trip. Not that Yoongi is much better, dressed in all black, complete with a heavy hoodie, even under the blistering heat.

This goes on for some time. Taehyung’s golden locks like a beacon, guiding Yoongi farther and farther away from the path. He hates that Taehyung is blonde now, at the very same time that Yoongi’s bleached his own hair. When all seven of them gather, they look like a matching set. He’ll change his hair as soon as he’s back in Korea and back to reality.

Of course, they do eventually slow their steps to a stop. Taehyung, with his camera brandished forward again, the obnoxiously powerful zoom extended all the way out, as if spying on the Iriomote cat’s return.

The saddened sigh that leaves him tells Yoongi all he needs to know.

“Ready to head back?” he pushes for right away, still nervous by the total absence of water, no guiding way back.

“Maybe it could come back out... If we have a stakeout...”

Taehyung isn’t listening. He never listens to Yoongi, barely ever even looks at him. Yoongi is tempted to turn back without Taehyung. Only tempted, because he doesn’t trust Taehyung to find his way back by himself. And while Taehyung may treat Yoongi like he means nothing and is worth even less, Yoongi could never stoop that low.

“Taehyung.” He waits until Taehyung’s head turns to him. Unsurprisingly, it takes several long moments. “If there’s a mountain cat here, we should probably leave it alone. We’d just be disrupting its territory.”

Taehyung’s lips pout out exaggeratedly, pink and shiny as if he’d applied a glossy lipstick for the trek — because of course that was the kind of person Kim Taehyung was. Yoongi doesn’t expect a response; he doesn’t need Taehyung to paint him a picture to understand that Taehyung couldn’t be any less interested in what he has to say.

But then, Taehyung mumbles dejectedly, “You like cats.”

Yoongi does not in fact like cats. Not that he dislikes them, but he certainly would gravitate towards a dog before he would a cat. He’s well aware that his friends like to compare him to a cat, for a variety of reasons which he has all come to accept by now. Taehyung might have overheard something to that effect, and misinterpreted. Besides, Taehyung wasn’t a friend, not someone he would allow to make such comparisons.

“People who like cats don’t go hunting after them when they want to be left alone.”

It’s another stretch of silence during which Yoongi has to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck. Taehyung eventually gives a weak nod of acceptance and straightens up, storing his camera into its case.

“Would have been neat to see it together...”

Yoongi thinks it would be neat to find their way back to the established trail. But Taehyung is dragging his feet, his pout ever present as Yoongi tries to walk them back to where they had veered off from.

It takes a long time. And then, it takes more than a long time. Even with Taehyung’s slowed and saddened pace, he realizes they’ve been walking for too long. Yoongi pauses, tries to hear the rush of water. If he can find the stream, then they can follow it to the ocean. Worst case scenario, they walk towards the source and have to turn around to head back in the opposite direction afterwards. Either way, they would be totally back on path.

No rush of water in Yoongi’s ears.

He moves to take another step, but he easily comes to a stop when Taehyung grasps his sleeve hesitantly.

His words are just as hesitant, “Hyung, isn’t this...”

He stops himself from showing how much it bothers him when Taehyung calls him hyung; he had all along, really. Had never made any efforts to become Yoongi’s friend, but still referred to him as if they already were. He focuses on Taehyung’s other words instead, especially those that had been left unspoken.

Isn’t this... too far? The wrong way? Leading us nowhere? Hopeless?

“Yeah,” Yoongi agrees with every possibility.

He pulls his phone out from his hoodie’s front pocket. It’s too hot to the touch, and doesn’t give any sign that it’ll turn on when Yoongi attempts to unlock it. It overheated, from the weather and from being so close to his body heat.

He lets his backpack fall and stores the phone away next to his packed water bottle instead, hoping that’ll cool down the device.

“Pass me your phone, let’s see if the satellite signals reach out here, then we can use the GPS. If the signal is too weak we can try to send out a distress call to the others instead.”

Yoongi isn’t too hopeful. Aside from his camera bag, Taehyung isn’t carrying anything else. Suggesting that his phone may just be stuck in the pocket of his tight jeans shorts. It’s probably overheated, too.

Somehow, Taehyung’s answer is even worse than Yoongi’s expectation.

“I didn’t bring it...”

“Is this like an elaborate scheme then? Get me totally isolated in a foreign jungle to murder me?”

Taehyung laughs at that, but it dies off when Yoongi’s lips don’t even twitch into a smile. He hurries to explain, as if genuinely worried that Yoongi is afraid of being murdered. Not understanding that Yoongi’s retort comes from a place of irritation.

“I left it at the hotel. I thought it would be nice to focus on the moment, no distractions.”

“Because you’re so easily distracted,” Yoongi comments bitterly, thinking of how solely focused on finding a mountain cat Taehyung had become in no time at all. Trek to the waterfalls forgotten without any effort at all. “So, you’ve got no phone, no water, no food, no map, nothing useful to our survival? Did I get that straight?”

Taehyung looks slightly paler, not as iridescently golden as he usually appears. He has that kind of look that would turn heads anywhere in the world, no doubt. Yoongi can only suppose that becoming an international model had been child’s play to someone like Taehyung.

Without pretence, Yoongi thinks he knows what it’s like to have a gift for your passion. He just doesn’t know what it feels like for others to properly recognize and cherish that gift. Creating his music has never been child’s play, nor will it ever be.

“Survival...” The meaning of losing themselves in a mostly wild island appears to finally sink in. “Is it really that bad already...? Can’t we just like, I don’t know, figure it out with the sun?”

They both look up in a move that’s almost coordinated. It’s immediately clear to Yoongi that this’ll be of no use.

“It’s too bright right now. We’ll probably only know once night starts falling. And even then, we’ll only have a vague sense of the cardinal directions... we can lose track of that quickly.”

“We’re on the east side of the island, so, we just follow east? We can trace the directions in the dirt and then, I don’t know, leave a trail behind so we can see we’re still going the right way?”

They’re not entirely bad ideas. And even if Taehyung had been the one to lose them, surely he didn’t want to be lost more than Yoongi did. Even though he still came off too careless for Yoongi’s liking.

He hums, refuses to thank Taehyung or congratulate him on the contribution.

“The sun’s going to shine down on us for several hours still, we’ll get out of here before nightfall. We just need to find a stream.”

The next several hours only bring uncomfortable heat, exhaustion, and worry. Taehyung remains blessedly quiet, but that only quells Yoongi’s irritations, doesn’t actually help them find their way in any way. No matter the direction he takes, it’s just more and more vegetation, thicker tree trunks, higher grass, muddier grounds, more mosquitoes buzzing around (and that somehow don’t lead the way back to water).

By the time the sun is finally tracing a trajectory up above, Yoongi has to take pity on Taehyung’s condition. He might not like the guy, but he has enough empathy to understand that Taehyung has grown steadily hopeless as they’ve pushed forward without success.

There’s no clearing, not even a measly patch of ground free of impressive roots, or of imposing rocks that may be more aptly described as boulders, or of wildly overgrown ferns. In the end, Yoongi has them sit back against a tree. The trunk is wide enough that there’s an easy metre between them.

Yoongi checks his phone, still dead. Then digs out two of the three clementines he’d packed, hands the first of the two to Taehyung.

“Even you must be hungry at this point, right?”

The others would describe Taehyung as a picky eater, but Yoongi guesses it’s a front to keep his model figure. Not that he really has room to talk, skipping meals and grocery runs left and right to afford the latest sound equipment that’s caught his eye. He’d eat well if he could though. That must be the vital difference between them.

“I didn’t eat this morning, I was too excited about... well, the hike.”

Taehyung doesn’t need any further coaxing, starts peeling the clementine right away.

“Keep the peel, ok? We’ll use it like breadcrumbs, like you said.” He gestures upwards. “West is pretty clear already.”

They eat in silence and it’s not entirely unpleasant. The sweet taste of clementines, that Yoongi already loves on the worst of days, is only elevated by the hunger that had steadily built throughout the day. They pass the water bottle back and forth, and sure Taehyung doesn’t have the presence of mind to not put his sticky, shiny, pink lips directly to the bottle, but at least he rations his sips, doesn’t down half the contents in one gulp.

He thinks he’ll manage to revive the phone soon, because as soon as the sun starts sinking closer to the horizon, the jungle goes several degrees colder.

It takes a while for that to become a real problem. They split the last clementine, fill their hands with torn up pieces of the peel, head east, and drop a piece every six steps or so. The night brings several issues all at once.

For one: even in his hoodie, Yoongi feels chilled to the bone. Taehyung’s entire legs are bare. Probably covered in mosquito bites by now, and Yoongi only has a passing regretful thought that that will be bad for any upcoming shoots where he’ll have to show those off — the people retouching the photos won’t be happy. But more than that, Taehyung must be freezing. Because he’s shivering, his teeth are making a clacking sound, and his arms are tightly wrapped around his middle. He doesn’t complain about that either, but Yoongi figures he’s just lost too much energy, doesn’t have the strength left to whine about it all as he usually would.

For two: the jungle is dark. As in they’re constantly tripping, and their breadcrumbs quickly become useless, forgotten and vanished into the dark as soon as they take a step forward. Making their way around boulders and hills that are too large to climb has him questioning if they’re even still headed in the right direction at all.

For three: it’s stressful and terrifying. If Taehyung had been focused on photographing the yamaneko, Yoongi remembered that there were other creatures inhabiting the island. Including the habu snake. The habu snake and its deadly venom that is.

So, the night gets colder, they grow more lost, Yoongi becomes jumpier and warier, they finish the bottle of water and are left both without food and water, and there’s still no way out in sight.

He nearly yelps in surprise when Taehyung speaks up. It had felt like hours since he’d last spoken.

“I’m really sorry, hyung.”

He sounds sincere, and Yoongi guesses he most likely is. Maybe his presence and inclusion in the trip had threatened to ruin Yoongi’s vacation. And maybe Taehyung didn’t care about that at all, just did as he pleased no matter the consequences. But surely he cared if they were lost forever, out in the cold, in danger.

His voice had sounded a little raw, and Yoongi figures that it really must have been another few hours since he’d heard it. He should check. Absolutely no way his phone would still be overheated. In fact, he’s worried now that the low temperature would keep it from functioning properly. It’s an old model and he can’t afford to replace it.

“Come on, let’s check my phone again.”

He crouches down, waves Taehyung down, keeps himself from glaring at the way Taehyung’s heels never touch the ground. His Achilles tendons are too short, and Yoongi tries to focus on that as one of Taehyung’s physical shortcomings. Like his large ears. And his mismatched eyelids (they always remind Yoongi of himself, which he hates more than anything else). Or the way he can see that the line of Taehyung’s stomach isn’t perfectly flat whenever he stretches and reveals his midsection.

Focusing on those traits is never quite productive. Even if Yoongi dislikes him... Unfortunately, it was as if Taehyung had been prepared with the perfect recipe to make the most beautiful person. As if he’d be just slightly less beautiful with perfectly matching double eyelids, or with daintier ears. Taehyung looked perfect. No one could take that away from him, not even Yoongi.

He frowns, focuses on his phone instead as the Apple logo lights up in the centre of the screen, the phone booting up slowly. There are too many recordings on there, Yoongi should clean it up a bit, help the operating system work more smoothly.

The home screen comes into focus. The battery is at 46%. There’s no cellular connection. Yoongi goes through his usual rituals to get a connection even when his phone is being difficult. Messes around with turning the airplane mode on and back off again. There’s nothing to be done.

He goes through his contacts in KakaoTalk, messages each of his friends individually, with hopes that the connection will kick in eventually, that the messages will be delivered, and that one of them will send out a search and rescue team.

Taehyung might have snuck a look at his screen, because then he’s saying, “I guess the sad part is they probably won’t worry for a little while. They probably just think we really hit it off.”

“Fat chance.”

He hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite so brusquely, but Taehyung doesn’t tense up by him, nor does he argue. Almost as if he hadn’t heard him at all.

It’s hard to read Taehyung’s expression in the dark, but his pose is still obvious. He’s wrapped his arms underneath his knees, squeezed between his calves and thighs. He’s hunched over far enough to bury his nose between his knees. Yoongi feels colder just looking at him.

And when Yoongi carefully wraps an arm around his form, he finds that his back is shivering violently. Maybe with enough light, he’d find Taehyung’s lips blue, knees the same shade.

Maybe Taehyung had been the last person he’d wanted to see at the airport, sitting by him on the ferry ride over. The last person he’d want to be lost with. The person who was everything Yoongi wasn’t, who would only ever interact with others as glamorously successful as he was (which does not include Yoongi).

He doesn’t know how Taehyung had infiltrated their friend group. He could have bought his way in, perhaps. He’d once heard Jimin bragging about luxurious-looking opal earrings, which Taehyung had apparently brought back from Australia. He’d never made any kind of effort to buy Yoongi’s friendship.

Regardless, even as his least favourite person, it hurts seeing Taehyung in such a state. He kneels down, wraps both arms around Taehyung, rests his cheek over his back. His shivering becomes less aggressive, but doesn’t actually die down.

Yoongi is cold, too. Even the fabric over Taehyung’s back feels cool to the touch, as if there was no body heat left to leech off from Taehyung.

“Hey?” Yoongi, unsure if he’ll get a response.

Taehyung answers with his next breath.

“Hey.”

“We need to keep going,” he tries to reason. “If we quicken the pace, maybe it’ll help ward off the cold. And we can stick closer, share body heat, ok? But we can’t give up.”

“I know.” He sounds choked up.

“It’ll be hard, but worth it.”

Despite complying, Taehyung’s condition doesn’t look like it improves. He takes Yoongi’s words to heart, and glues himself to his side. The shivering doesn’t pass, and he starts tripping more frequently, as if his awareness of the surroundings lessened with the intensity of the cold.

Yoongi, again, takes pity and starts intermittently lighting the path ahead with his phone’s flashlight. He’s doing his best to preserve the battery, hanging on to that hope that the messages to his friends will send. The only ‘thank you' or acknowledgement Yoongi receives is Taehyung lowering his head to rest over his shoulder. Quite a feat considering that Taehyung had several centimetres of height over Yoongi.

He picks up on the crash of the waves, the smell of saltwater, long before Taehyung rouses from his almost comatose state. Even without the end in actual sight, Yoongi pushes himself to take longer strides, to hasten his pace, to drag Taehyung’s weight forward with him.

One moment, lost in wilderness, the next stumbling onto the single coastal road of the island, highway 215.

His first instinct is to turn to his phone. Both taxi companies operating here are now long closed. They’d rented just the one car for the group. He doesn’t know who currently has the keys. He sends a single follow-up distress message to their group chat this time (which, to his great sorrow, does include Taehyung). He sends their coordinates, begs anyone who has the keys to pick them up as soon as possible, lest they want to lose Taehyung to hypothermia.

He almost thinks they’ve already lost Taehyung’s mind when he exclaims a soft “Woah!” and then “Hyung, look!”

Yoongi follows the direction of his pointed finger. Just above the line separating highway from vegetation, towards the coast, a veritable cloud of fireflies. Hundreds dotted in the air. Superposed to the stars up above, it feels like the entrance to another world.

Taehyung voices as much.

“It’s amazing, right? Like magic...”

Yoongi had tried to catch sight of them every night so far. The yaeyama fireflies specifically supposed to appear not long after sunset. But, they are way past sunset. At a time where maybe none of their friends will come for quite some time still, likely all asleep. And he doesn’t want to see them by Taehyung’s side. It had been the kind of sight he’d hunted after to inspire his music.

He feels Taehyung move against him before he even has time to reach for his camera, but Yoongi just knows that’s his plan. To pull out his camera, and act enchanted by the turn of events. As if he hadn’t been curled up on the jungle floor not long ago, needing convincing to even try to find his way out of the mess he’d dragged them both into.

For the very first time, Yoongi snaps; beyond annoyed.

He lets his arms fall to his sides, irked that Taehyung had stopped shivering at the first pretty sight to greet him.

“Why are you even on this trip?” He doesn’t dare step away from Taehyung. One, he doesn’t like pure confrontation and doesn’t want to escalate their position to adversarial. Two, he’s still mindful of the fact that Taehyung is underdressed for the chilling night. But, even standing by his side, Yoongi’s bite becomes more aggressive. “Actually, no. Better question is how are you friends with all of my friends.”

“Uh, well —”

Yoongi cuts off Taehyung’s uncertain tone, not giving him the chance to answer while still unsure of Yoongi’s intention.

“You’re vapid.”

It’s the worst insult he can think of in that moment, though he’s not sure if Taehyung is just shallow enough to not understand how the comment is cutting and thankless.

Taehyung couldn’t join the fishing trip, or the canoe trip, he just had to have his way; even when it interfered with someone else’s plan. Didn’t pack anything for the hike to make himself useful, like a phone, or a wallet, or water. Instead, he’d shown up, perfectly coiffed, eyelashes curled, lips bright, dressed like he was arriving on a set where he was the only star present. Calls Yoongi hyung as if he doesn’t treat him with disdain, like Yoongi is below him.

He should apologize for blurting it out like that, but instead he says: “Out of everyone I’ve met, you’re my least favourite person.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for a little while. Yoongi doesn’t turn to look at his expression, besides the night would be too dark to reveal anything, or at least he thinks so. He wonders if the glow of the fireflies would cast enough light to reveal a dark, angry blush. He feels a twisted sense of satisfaction that his words may have hurt Taehyung where it counts. Hurt enough at least for Taehyung to remember to give Yoongi his usual amount of space.

“I didn’t get us lost on purpose,” he eventually insists on, voice not quite as thick or as hurt as Yoongi was hoping it would sound.

“It’s not about today —”

“You’re tired, let’s talk tomorrow, or, I guess, later today.”

He says it like he’s doing Yoongi a favour, keeping him from saying things he will regret. And then, actually has the nerve to step away from Yoongi, hurry across the street and finally pull out his camera. The glow of the fireflies is indeed strong enough for Yoongi to make out Taehyung’s features. Taehyung doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’s the worst person Yoongi’s met. Absolutely dead last in the list of people Yoongi wants to see and interact with.

“I haven’t had time off in years,” Yoongi hisses out, hears it when it sounds anguished. It feels like he’s losing, because he’s the one who’s upset even though the words should have upset Taehyung instead. But no, because he was adjusting his lens now, surely to take better photos in the dark, the crumpled and cold form he’d made in the jungle long gone. “I was so close to cancelling when I found out you’d be here too. But unlike you, I don’t just have money to burn, so.”

Taehyung looks over his shoulder and his furrowed eyebrows make Yoongi grind his teeth. Does he have to go into details about what cancellation fees are? Perhaps Taehyung's agency or managers handled all his travel bookings.

“I really think you should rest... Did anyone answer you earlier?”

“God, would you listen to me?” He’s mildly aware that his words are louder now, that there’s more fire coating his tongue as he lashes out. “You’re shallow, all you care about and all there is to you are your looks. I don’t know how you manage to get invited time and time again when no one even wanted to spend the day with you today. They all thought you’d die on the hike by yourself, and I have to say they made a good fucking point, and yet none of them wanted to sacrifice their day to be with you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Taehyung retorts, back straight.

Now he looks displeased. Face tense and eyes searching. Yoongi has to bite the inside of his cheek and curl his hands into fists to resist crossing the road and getting a look at that one expression from up close.

“Thank fucking god,” he breathes out.

Taehyung turns back around, makes a show of snapping a few more pictures before giving up and turning back towards Yoongi.

“You know, maybe I don’t have enough depth for you to think I’m worthy enough to just hang around with you guys, but at least I’m not this judgemental.” He makes a dismissive gesture towards Yoongi.

Yoongi laughs, even though his fingernails are digging into his palms and the sting is unpleasant.

“So you have a sense of humour now?” When Taehyung gives no sign of understanding what he means, he pushes more. “You’re right, you’re not judgemental like I am. Because you’re way more so. There’s literally only one word I’d pick over vapid to describe you, and wow, you guessed it. It’s judgemental.”

Just as he’d imagined it before, Taehyung’s face colours an angry shade that isn’t softened by the fireflies’ bioluminescence. It’s a little upsetting to look at, so Yoongi forces himself to think of how often Taehyung has angled himself away from Yoongi, has gone dead silent whenever Yoongi’s brought up work (whether it be the work he cares about or the countless miserable jobs he needs to take up), made pained faces when his friends would comment on tracks Yoongi could finally release, pointed an elated and almost childish smile at absolutely everyone else in their group but never at Yoongi.

It had taken him a while to put the pieces together, but with time it became clear that Taehyung wasn’t interested in wasting time on people who struggled to reach their goals and dreams. He liked success and turned his nose up to those who couldn’t meet that standard.

“Is this really about today?” Taehyung’s shoulders are high, he doesn’t look like he’s ready to accept Yoongi’s harsh words. Yoongi clenches his jaw tightly, anger building further with Taehyung’s feigned ignorance. “What have I ever done that was so bad then?”

Taehyung must still have the upper hand, even with that overwhelmed blush. Because his question cuts Yoongi deep. Did Taehyung think him too stupid to notice? Did he really pay so little attention that he hadn’t realized that Yoongi noticed?

“You really think I don’t realize what’s going on here?”

If every word and reaction from Taehyung after Yoongi had let his genuine feelings spill out had been another cut to his ego, then the flash of guilt across Taehyung’s expression is the last stab of the dagger. Lodged deep inside Yoongi, no more denying, he hadn’t fabricated anything. Taehyung really was the snooty celebrity that incessantly hung out with his friend group yet couldn’t deign to look in Yoongi’s direction.

The expression becomes that much clearer when the high beams of a car come from around the bend of the highway. The conversation dies there. Yoongi doesn’t recognize it as their rental car, not even when it comes to a stop. He considers it may just be a generous soul recognizing two other souls in distress. He only recognizes it when Taehyung approaches swiftly, climbing into the left side of the car. There’s a moment of hesitation during which Yoongi yet again forgets that the steering wheel is on the right side of the car and is bemused by the fact that Taehyung had opened the driver’s side.

He doesn’t protest the fact that Taehyung took the shotgun seat and left Yoongi to climb into the back of the car. Once inside, he sees that Taehyung had immediately gravitated to the car’s command centre and was doing his best to blast the heat.

The conversation is over, he lets it be. They had spent a miserable day, overheated and hungry, and then cold and hungry. Yoongi’s thirsty, too, but it doesn’t look like Hoseok had brought any rations. He’d probably hurried out of their hotel as soon as he’d seen the message, no time to pack up a care package.

Yoongi leans his head back, shuts his eyes. Hoseok had barely waited for him to buckle his seatbelt to put the car back into drive.

Hoseok says, “You two seriously got lost? Hyung got lost? I’ve never seen that in my life, damn Taehyung you really are that distracting!”

His tone is downright gleeful, excited. Yoongi frowns, realizing that Taehyung must have been right when saying the group assumption was that they would have disappeared together simply because they hit it off splendidly.

He doesn’t know if Taehyung gives Hoseok some kind of signal or silent message, because there’s no follow-up to that comment. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes to confirm.

“Next time, worry about me if I go missing for a full day in a foreign country, without hearing from me.”

There’s a sustained silence. Maybe Hoseok has turned to Taehyung for more clues about Yoongi’s tired comment.

Then, “We didn’t think of it that way because it was the two of you. But, yeah, yeah for sure we’ll be smarter about it next time.”

He hopes that “smarter” means never leaving him alone with Taehyung again.

In hindsight, it had been a terrifying experience. Nevertheless, Yoongi was determined to only waste that one single day of vacation.

When he’d arrived back at the hotel, Jimin — who’d been chosen as Yoongi’s roommate for the duration of the trip — had been graciously understanding and had even left Yoongi alone to go check up on Taehyung in his and Namjoon’s room. He’d never returned, allowing for Yoongi to shamelessly pig out on any and all snacks he’d stored in their room, and then to take a luxuriously long bath.

Today, he’d slept in, but just enough to avoid feeling exhausted. He spends most of the day on the beach, eats a generous lunch, writes down several bars of music, participates in a mindless game of passing a volleyball back and forth with Namjoon and Seokjin. It’s healing enough.

He doesn’t see Taehyung until dinner time, when all seven gather at their hotel’s outdoor restaurant.

Even though Yoongi had been hurt by Taehyung’s reactions, the general way in which the other regarded him, now that he’s cooled off he can accept that only one person had been hurling intentionally harmful words at the other. And it hadn’t been Taehyung. However, at dinner Taehyung isn’t puffy-eyed, isn’t quieter than usual, is overall in good spirits. And he leaves Yoongi alone, just like he’d wanted.

Simultaneously, he feels both guilt lift from his shoulders and an unexplainably intense sense of regret settles low in his stomach.

But he’s on vacation, so if it’s all the same to Taehyung, he’s happy to pretend the beautiful model isn’t there at all. Everything is as it should be.

He should probably slow down. The box had contained twelve mandu pieces just a couple of minutes ago, now down to three. Then again, he couldn’t remember his last meal. He’d gone from his ten-hour shift of delivery work, to then entering a trance-like state for hours on end as he worked on some projects at home, his studio. The apartment is shoebox-sized, which means that all of it is his studio space. His work desk is even pressed up against the bed. It suits Yoongi, music is the first and last thing on his mind on any given day. He likes waking up in the middle of his creative workspace.

Not that he wouldn’t like a professional studio space, of course.

Besides, he rarely had food from his brother’s restaurant. His family was largely absent from his life, and that had been his own doing. The shame of struggling through life, working jobs he absolutely despised just to race home and work on music only a handful would listen to definitely pressed down on him. Kept him from calling back home. Kept him from feeling excited when his brother had moving out to Seoul, too.

Seokjin is a good friend though, doesn’t question his estrangement, goes out of his way to pick up food from the restaurant without ever mentioning his connection to their chef's brother. Seokjin is a very good friend, who watches fondly as Yoongi wolfs down the mandu, but doesn’t take his headphones off, eyes riveted on the breakdown of an audio file on his laptop.

Because Seokjin is such a good friend, Yoongi has no choice but to comply when Seokjin tells him, “Hey, could we talk about something serious?”

He plops another piece into his mouth, only two left.

“Like how serious?”

“Like, take the headphones off, and let me sit with you.”

He scrunches up his nose at that. The bedsheets haven’t been washed in a while. So much of his equipment has been running for hours now, so much so that he’s slid icepacks under his laptop to keep it from overheating. In other words, the apartment is hot and so is his body. He’s probably stained the sheets with his sweat, as he’s been working from the foot of his bed. There’s no chair in his apartment.

He gestures towards the head of the bed, hoping it’ll be slightly cleaner.

“I don’t want a lecture about overworking though. I’m really fine, I’m taking care of myself.” He takes his headphones off, takes the next piece of mandu, then puts the box out towards Seokjin, offering him the last piece.

Seokjin turns him down with a wave and that’s all the convincing Yoongi needs to down the last piece.

“It’s not about that this time, don’t worry.” But Yoongi is definitely worried because Seokjin is trying to look into his eyes, which absolutely makes him want to squirm right out of his skin. As his closest friend, Seokjin knows he doesn’t enjoy eye contact. “I heard about... how you were with Taehyung.”

While he hadn’t expected the subject, his reaction is instantaneous; he’s annoyed. He had thought this was in the past. No one had brought it up for the full week since they’ve been back, and Taehyung had been absent from any meetups he’d been invited to. He’d hoped perhaps he would never need to see him again.

“Why’d you even invite him anyway? You know I hate that guy.”

“Frankly, I just thought you two weren’t close yet.” Yoongi rolls his eyes at the use of ‘yet'. “Besides, I didn’t invite him.”

“Ha, of course. Why am I not surprised that he’d just show up uninvited. That’s exactly the kind of guy he is.”

“Yoongi, no one invited him because he organized the trip.”

Yoongi isn’t ecstatic about the answer. It made his comments to Taehyung, questioning why he’d come on the trip at all, laughably stupid. However, the explanation doesn’t take the wind out of his sails, he remains irked.

“Then why would you invite me? You convinced me to take time off for pretty much the first time ever. For this? To go on a trip put together by the one guy I can’t stand?”

Seokjin sighs. It’s not the kind of sigh Yoongi would expect, not like Seokjin feels bad or feels embarrassed for the mistake. It’s a sigh like Yoongi is tiring him out, like Seokjin is uncomfortable but still feels he has to go through with the conversation.

“Well, I’m not sure how we were supposed to know there was a problem when you never brought it up. But even if there was a problem... What I’ve heard about what you said wasn’t great, Yoongi. The Yoongi I’m friends with wouldn’t act like that.”

“Like what?” Yoongi eggs him on, doesn’t want to acknowledge Seokjin’s disappointed tone and how hurtful it is to hear.

“Like an asshole.”

He expects Seokjin to regret the comment, to feel as if he’d gone too far. Seokjin’s expression doesn’t change though. He looks serious, like he means it.

“I’m just not at a point in life where I have time to spend on people I don’t like. Am I an asshole for that?”

“In the circumstances, maybe kind of.” He grimaces with the words. “You realize that he loves your music, right?”

Yoongi passes a hand through his hair, beyond irritated. He’s tempted to ask Seokjin to be on his way. He needs a shower, maybe a few beats of fresh air on his small patio space, and then sleep. He bites that back, but doesn’t manage to keep himself from blurting out what’s at the forefront of his mind.

“So what? You want me to suck up to him because he has a big platform and maybe I can make it if he shares my music? I’m not like you guys, I’m not just going to buddy up to him thinking he’s going to get me expensive shit or introduce me to a celebrity lifestyle.”

Seokjin’s expression looks pained, and Yoongi is ready for him to defend his intentions, claim they were all genuine friends of Taehyung’s. He won’t argue with Seokjin, but he’s not sure he’ll believe him either.

Instead of defending himself, Seokjin asks, as if clueless: “What big platform?”

“Because he’s like an international supermodel or whatever.”

The words make him feel even more inadequate. The emptied container over his lap, skin slick with a layer of sweat, hair flat and greasy, all the while Taehyung was somewhere out in the world getting paid insane amounts of money just to look the way he did.

“What?”

Yoongi frowns, unsure if he’d missed the start of Seokjin’s reply while he’d been reflecting on Taehyung’s beauty.

“Pardon?”

“What do you mean he’s an international supermodel?”

“Uh, sorry... He’s a... top model?”

He searches Seokjin’s face, waiting for Seokjin to nod once Yoongi finds the right terminology, but his expression still looks pained.

“Did... Taehyung tell you he models...?”

“Well, no,” Yoongi starts, realizing slowly that he must be wrong about that assumption. “But, but Hoseok said he works in beauty. And he’s constantly abroad for work? And he gets people ridiculous gifts, like Jimin’s opal earrings. And, I mean, come on. He looks like that?”

“What?” Seokjin’s voice is low as he takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yoongi’s shoulders rise up in embarrassment, he pulls the bedsheets in tighter, though he feels as overheated as his laptop.

“Is he not...?”

“He is not,” Seokjin confirms solemnly.

“But he’s still, like, another type of rich and successful celebrity, right?”

The look Seokjin gives him can only be described as “weirded out”.

“No. Taehyung is a small business owner. He has this tiny place in Hongdae where he sells his jewelry.”

“And he travels?”

“Because, well I don’t know every specific detail, but he runs everything himself. Including creating his pieces, and he’s really picky about getting materials. He had this ammonite bracelet this one time, and he went to Mexico to choose the fossils he wanted to work with.”

“So, he made those earrings,” he concludes, every basis for his assumption now clarified. “So, he’s like high and mighty because he has a trust fund? That’s how he affords the travel?”

Yet again, Seokjin sighs. It’s starting to sound less friendly, he’s even crossed his arms.

“And how is he high and mighty exactly?”

“Just look at the way he looks at me!”

Seokjin may have grown impatient, but Yoongi’s also grown frustrated. Maybe he had been slightly off about Taehyung’s occupation, but that didn’t even start to change the cold way in which he’d always treated Yoongi.

Seokjin moves, feet now firmly planted on the floor. It seems his patience had truly reached its limits.

“Like you’re his idol? Did you miss it when I said he loves your music? He doesn’t like it, he loves it. He said he’s been listening to your Soundcloud since he was a high schooler. So, basically, the whole time you’ve been putting out music.”

Yoongi follows when Seokjin stands up, drops the sheets and ghosts after his steps with a firm frown in place.

“No,” he insists passionately, urgently. “He looks at me like I’m not worth his time, or anything for that matter. We’ve been in the same friend group for years and he’s never tried to connect with me at all.”

Seokjin’s slipped his shoes back on, but does stop to turn to Yoongi.

“Maybe it’s fortunate that he didn’t. He organized that hike for you, asked us all not to volunteer so that it could be the two of you. And it just ended with you calling him vapid and telling him none of us want him around.” Both Seokjin’s traits and tone soften. “I love you, Yoongi. But Taehyung is my friend, too. The way you treated him wasn’t right.”

There’s no valid response to that. Yoongi’s still figuring out whether he’d been justified. Whether the years of distance and ignoring had only been a starstruck Taehyung, intimidated and afraid to approach an artist he liked. That’s a lot to process too, that his music could have possibly meant that much to a stranger.

He nearly sheds a tear when Seokjin still hugs him goodbye, warm and caring like always, despite his disapproval.

It’s not long after Seokjin leaves, and that he accepts he can’t keep working on music tonight, that he also accepts that he needs to apologize.

The store is mostly empty, aside from a mother and daughter duo. Taehyung is bright and energetic as he pulls out different pairs of earrings. From her eager conversation, Yoongi has understood that the child wants black pearls. The pair is clearly wealthy, which Yoongi supposes matches the shop. While Seokjin had accurately described it as a tiny place, there is no pricing information presented in the glass displays. Everything looks sophisticated and luxurious, just like Jimin’s opal earrings had. Many gemstone names he’s never even heard of.

He’s thankful that Taehyung had been busy when he’d first entered the store. He’d gotten the address from Jungkook. That had been after he’d reached out to Jimin and had been outright ignored. Thinking back on that gift Taehyung had created for Jimin specifically, Yoongi’s sort of figured that Jimin must have been closer to Taehyung than he’d ever cared to notice.

He manages to steady his breathing in the time it takes for Taehyung to finish up with the customers. He watches curiously as Taehyung offers the little girl a huge smile, telling her he’d included additional butterfly backs as her mother had mentioned she’d lost one on a different pair recently.

Yoongi can’t hide for much longer and, indeed, Taehyung goes straight to him as soon as the pair turn their backs to the counter.

“Hello... Yoongi-ssi.”

Taehyung addresses him with a different kind of smile than what he’d worn for the little girl, but it’s not unkind. A little shier, perhaps.

Despite Taehyung’s lack of hostility, Yoongi feels his breathing pick up again when Taehyung doesn’t address him the way he usually does.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been a good hyung to you at all. But I think, maybe, actually, I’d like to be.”

Taehyung’s smile turns a little more frozen. His head tilts slightly, confused.

“Alright,” he accepts easily.

“And, obviously, I’m sorry about more stuff than just that...” He stops, tries to remember how he had wanted to word this. “Last time we spoke... Basically everything I said, I apologize for. I know I can’t, but if I could I would take it back.”

Taehyung nods, doesn’t lose the polite smile.

“Alright, I accept your apology. I almost got us killed so, really, you could have gotten way angrier.”

Yoongi avidly nods his head, clinging to the excuse even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t make any excuses for his behaviour. He glances away, finds himself staring at the jewelry on display instead. Surely there was still more to say. They couldn’t possibly become friends with such a weak apology, right?

“Uh. I thought of buying something to make it up to you. But nothing here looks even remotely close to my budget.”

“Next time you perform, I can lend you any pieces you like. If you’re interested, I mean.”

The offer brings Seokjin’s assertions back to the forefront of his mind. There’s no reason left not to trust that Taehyung was an actual fan of his. The guilt feels heavy.

He hadn’t wanted excuses, but now a lack of explanation just felt cruel... Thus, in spite of preparations and several pep talks on his way over, the words escape him.

“I thought you were like a top model.”

It’s horribly embarrassing, especially when Taehyung’s face goes a little blank.

His answer is not too dissimilar from Seokjin’s, when he’d heard the same from Yoongi not so long ago: “What?”

“I thought you were like this snooty, rich, judgmental international super model. And that you wouldn’t interact with me because I’m not... successful.”

“Huh?” Taehyung’s eyebrows are deeply furrowed, Yoongi can see he isn’t entirely following. “Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m stupid and you look like...” He gestures wildly towards all of Taehyung. “Always thought you were looking down at me, never that you were looking up at me.”

Taehyung’s smile doesn’t really dim, but it does wilt somewhat, takes up less space.

“Oh. Sounds like I didn’t make a great impression... and you’ve been thinking that for years?” Yoongi hesitates, but then confirms with a small nod. “Ah well, shoot. Do you think you’d give me a second chance?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows go up.

“Me? Give you a second chance? I think we’ve established that I’m the one who needs to ask for that, no? You didn’t deserve any of the stuff I said to you.”

“But I still made you feel like I was judging you or like I looked down on you?”

Tone hesitant, because he still doesn’t fully know what it was that Yoongi had been accusing him of. The guilt doesn’t feel lighter than before.

“I made myself feel that way. You were just... working up the courage to get close to me? And then I pushed you away in the worst way. While you were freezing and starved, so like. Please. Give me a second chance.”

Taehyung nods once, and it looks resolute, like he’s preparing himself to do exactly that.

“Ok. Yeah, ok, I can do that!” He balls his hands into fists over the glass display, then continues in a louder voice. “Will you let me take you out on a date?”

Yoongi’s jaw drops. He stammers out a flustered, “Pardon?”

“Well, see. It’s just that, on Iriomote, that had been the plan. That we would go hiking, just you and me, and it would feel magical and special and romantic... And then I could ask you out? And then we would go out and it would be even more magical and special and romantic.”

Yoongi licks his lips, looks down at the jewelry again. He’s not used to this, to interacting with Taehyung so openly, without forcing himself to resent him and everything he stood for. He’s not used to it, but it’s also not difficult. Especially not in this small space, filled with all of Taehyung’s hard work and creations. He’s, of course, a completely different person from the person Yoongi had painted in his mind; who thought Yoongi was nothing at all.

“I don’t know if I could ever date a top model though...”

“Awesome, because I’m not. Not even a little bit.”

Taehyung’s smile returns with a vengeance, cheeky this time.

He takes a deep breath, accepts Taehyung to be the person in front of him, enthusiastic and endlessly kind. The person who hadn’t bitten back when Yoongi had attacked him. Who’d respected Yoongi’s boundaries when he’d asked to be left alone, no matter how violently he’d made the request. Someone that all of his friends loved, and who’d needed literal years to try to get close to Yoongi, even though he’d clearly been interested in him.

“I’ll accept on one condition. I want you to come see my studio. I mean, sadly it’s just my apartment and it’s not much to look at. But... we could listen to some of the tracks I’ve been working on. You could share your thoughts with me?”

Finally, Taehyung’s smile flourishes completely, looks like the spitting image of the excited smiles he’d give to any of Yoongi’s friends. Yoongi finds himself smiling softly in return.

“Deal. Promise not to get us lost this time.”

“Don’t worry, I think we’ve proven we’re pretty good at getting ourselves out of messes.”

It’s still difficult to reconcile Taehyung’s face and the fact that he isn’t a world-renowned model. It’s not difficult to accept that Taehyung doesn’t dislike Yoongi at all. And this time, it’s a matter of weeks and not years for Yoongi to realize that Taehyung is one of the persons he likes the very most.