Archive of Our Own

“Can you make me look ten years younger?”

Grinning wide, the makeup artist shakes her head.

“Like that would be necessary. You don’t look a day past twenty!”

Taehyung returns her smile with a bashful one, waves a dismissive hand at her reflection in the large mirror of the dressing room. He leans back on the chair and lets her work on his face, dabbing all sorts of brushes and occasionally her fingertips on his skin.

“Don’t be nervous,” she murmurs, after his third deep sigh in the span of a minute. “You’ll do great! Everybody loves you.”

He gulps, doesn’t even try battling the blush creeping up his neck. It’s a losing game.

“Thank you. I’ll sit still now, promise.”

His eyes close again. He makes an effort to unlock his jaw.

Of course she thinks he’s nervous because of the reunion shoot. After all, he was part of one of the most successful Korean dramas in history, and not behind the scenes—quite the contrary. Taehyung was one of the leading actors, his character adored by millions across the globe, and such fondness bled through the fictional veil into his real life. To this day, fans send him gifts and shower him with affection wherever he goes, whenever he updates his social media accounts. He’s got the most supportive, dedicated fanbases in several countries, attracts massive ratings every time he stars in a new project. Not a single director or producer would miss the opportunity to work with him, for he is the pot of gold that is sure to lure legions to the end of their rainbow should he accept their offers.

She is right. He’s got nothing to be afraid of. Nothing anybody knows of, at least.

One face blooms behind his eyelids. A pair of soft eyes, and even softer lips, if his memory doesn’t betray him… 

His pulse quickens. To keep his promise of not disturbing the makeup process, Taehyung balls his hands into fists on his lap, strives to prevent his leg from bouncing.

It’s been ten years since the finale. An entire decade, and still… 

“Are you ready?”

A friendly voice startles him. Its owner, his beloved agent and best friend, lays a hand on his forearm and squeezes, like he knows Taehyung needs soothing. That’s one of his countless wonders: somehow, he always knows what Taehyung needs without having to hear it.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jimin shrugs at him through the mirror. “It might be very… Intense.”

Taehyung has never told him. Nobody knows, which makes things simultaneously easier and harder. God knows he loves acting, except when it’s not for the cameras.

“We both know you’ll be the one bursting into tears as soon as I walk in,” he teases, rolling his eyes. Jimin slaps the back of his wrist.

“You bet I will! We worked so hard and look at you now.” They share a nostalgic sigh. Jimin’s smile is so fond and infectious. “I always knew you’d be a superstar.”

Taehyung arches an eyebrow, holds back a snort.

“If I remember correctly, you strongly advised me not to accept this role.”

The makeup artist stops her diligent work to gasp, glancing from one man to the other with mouth agape.

“That’s right, I advised you,” Jimin deadpans, avoiding her shocked glare. “The decision was always yours, and I couldn’t be happier that you made the right one.”

She gets back to work with an amused smirk. Taehyung can’t keep his shoulders from shaking, a low chuckle tickling his chest. He teases Jimin about this every chance he gets, and his reply is never not funny.

The makeup and hair styling go quickly. Everyone involved in getting him ready is all smiles and exclamations of how Taehyung makes their jobs easier.

He was told to dress up however he liked, which led to a three-day-long argument with Jimin about the perfect outfit. Ultimately, like the decision to join the cast all those years ago, Taehyung was allowed to pick: khaki linen pants and jacket, a white shirt and black pointed shoes. His fans love his style, always praise him online after his public appearances, so he figures staying on brand instead of going all out on a flashy suit is the best way to show them he’s not in way over his head regarding fame and success. Formal outfits are for red carpets and award shows; since being other people is the definition of his job, he’d rather stay true to himself as much as possible when he’s not playing a part.

When he finally gets up from the chair, his black hair is parted in the middle, gentle curls falling on either side of his forehead. After gesturing for him to twirl, Jimin grins so big his eyes disappear.

“Perfect. You’ll be the talk of the town for weeks.”

Taehyung conceals a sigh with a smile. He’s already well-acquainted with the frisson his appearances cause, how the items he wears sell out in hours, yet deep down Taehyung knows someone else will take the spotlight that evening, as always. His heart skips a beat.

They haven’t met in years. Three, to be exact.

“Can we go through the script one last time?”

Not that he needs it, but there’s still a quarter of an hour to kill before showtime and Taehyung is in dire need of distractions. Jimin promptly nods, fishes a tablet from his briefcase and indulges him.

Each of the main cast members will walk into the set, which has been rebuilt just like old times, so accurately it should feel like ten-year-old dust might rise from the table if he swipes his finger over it. Or so he’s been told; none of them have seen it yet, to save their organic reactions for the cameras.

They’ll greet each other before sitting on assigned armchairs—the leads on opposing ends of the row, to make their scarce interactions even more thrilling to the expectant audience watching them closely at the studio. The host will talk some numbers and ask each actor about how they’re doing and how the show has impacted their lives. They’ll watch the top five best scenes according to fan voting from an online poll and comment on them briefly.

Then comes the time for pre-approved questions from the audience, one for each actor. Taehyung squirms, pretends to be stretching on the couch.

“Did you expect your character to get his happy ending with the main lead?”

Jimin bats his eyelashes at him after reading it aloud. The answer comes out smoothly, on the tip of his tongue already, long rehearsed in his bathroom mirror to be delivered with just the right amount of exhilaration. By the way Jimin goes on rehearsing, Taehyung assumes his hard work has paid off. The churning in his gut has successfully been disguised, even from his best friend.

The last part doesn’t get easier. They’re meant to finish the reunion by singing the theme songs together, in a sort of noraebang vibe. He still remembers how the director basically begged him to join the main lead when he found out Taehyung could sing, claiming it would add invaluable flavor to the final episode. They recorded their lines for the track separately due to schedule conflicts. The production team was responsible for blending their voices, and did a wonderful job at that.

“Try not to strain your precious vocal cords, okay?” Jimin urges, setting the tablet aside once they’ve gone through every item on the checklist. “It’s supposed to be fun, I promise no one will mind if you sing off-key.”

Fun. It’s hard not to grimace. Sure enough, there’s a plethora of emotions swirling inside him, but fun is a very small part of the mix at present.

“I’ll try.”

How ironic, Taehyung thinks, that he is here to be praised for his acting prowess, yet the hardest role of his life is about to be played during this very celebration.

A few minutes later, he’s called to the set. Jimin hugs him tight before they part, and Taehyung is led to his mark. He’s the third one to walk in; some of his nervousness dissolves at the sound of warm laughter from the two others already inside. He’s been so caught up in his own thoughts that he let himself forget the reason why he’s there: to reminisce about the best year of his life with his coworkers and dearest fans.

After rolling his shoulders a few times, he takes a deep breath and nods at the staff beside him. The guy nods back and opens the door for him.

His steps echo in the ample room, too loud compared to the distant cheer of the audience. He takes long strides in the shadow until he’s standing under the bright lights. His heart drops for the split second it takes for the fans to notice him, then soars way up high, driven by the surging wave of screams and applause that follows. His former castmates join the audience and Taehyung flashes his genuine, trademark boxy smile before bowing and walking to the center of the room to hug them.

“Kim Taehyung, ladies and gentlemen!” The host announces, to the selected crowd’s delight. They clap and cheer for a very long time. Taehyung puts his hands on his chest and bows right, left and center.

There’s too much going on, he wouldn’t be able to pay close attention if he tried. One look around is all he manages, but from what he gathers, the crew has indeed done a wonderful job of rebuilding the set where the iconic last scene was recorded.

It opens a floodgate of memories in his mind, makes his heart pulse uncomfortably somewhere near his throat. He fails to swallow it. Everything is too much. Taehyung feels overwhelmed, exposed and unprepared. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice tells him none of these feelings is true.

A voice that is not his.

Your head knows what you have to do. Make sure your heart’s in it too.

Ten years since he heard those words before shooting a particularly tough scene. Ten years since the scene that left the whole country breathless, and still…

All eyes shift from him to the direction he came from. The crowd gets so quiet so fast he can hear every breath catching in their throats like the air got sucked out of the room. Taehyung’s skin tingles before he looks. He grits his teeth, braces himself for impact.

“Last, but definitely not least, the man everyone’s been waiting for,” the host nearly shrieks. “The one and only Kim Seokjin!”

A cacophony of roars washes over them. Though he feels the energy reverberating all around him, Taehyung’s senses only capture it faintly, like he’s underwater. His eyes land on Seokjin, the Kim Seokjin, Korea’s son-in-law, and his soul downright quakes. Given the choice, he’d probably like to be screaming at the top of his lungs too, if only he could remember how to make a sound.

Seokjin bows and waves at the fans with a heartfelt smile. His black hair is pushed back, a tad overgrown at the back, mingling with the collar of his blue button-up, so well-fitted to his godly proportions Taehyung wants to sob. Black slacks and shoes finish off his impeccable look, but what’s truly mesmerizing about him cannot be named. It goes beyond charisma, attractiveness, poise or politeness. Try as he might, Taehyung can never find the right words, because there aren’t any.

It’s Seokjin, plain and simple, yet none of that at the same time. It goes beyond everything he is. It’s everything you become when he looks at you.

And he is looking at Taehyung now.

The world goes from moving in slow motion to fast forwarding and Seokjin has already made his way through their other castmates when Taehyung regains his footing. His cologne pervades the air before Seokjin breaks the hug with the actress beside Taehyung. 

“Hey,” he breathes, eyes glinting softly, the perfect picture of warm tranquility. His arms wrap around Taehyung like the script requests.

Taehyung’s brain snaps. Right. There’s a script.

Jump-started by the heat seeping through the thin fabric of Seokjin’s shirt, Taehyung returns the embrace, face lighting up for the audience. All eyes are on them, as expected. They’re the incandescent core of the show.

“Hi, hyung,” he replies, hopes the microphone doesn’t catch his voice cracking. It’s been so long since he called Seokjin that way, or at all, for that matter.

They linger in each other’s arms for a bit longer than the rest, until the audience starts gradually cheering again. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and allows his heart to listen for a moment. A single word rings in his ears, louder than the voices around them.

Fanservice.

They’ve done it throughout the promotion for the drama and even after, for the subsequent award season and endless interviews. Some stolen glances and fond smiles here and there while the other wasn’t looking, an occasional brush of their fingers without reason, Taehyung’s arm slung around Seokjin’s shoulder, Seokjin’s hand draped around Taehyung’s waist or at the small of his back as they posed for swarms of photographers.

People wanted this, loved to see Seokjin and Taehyung together.

The question that breaks Taehyung’s heart every time is: does Seokjin feel the same?

The host clears his throat beside them, and that’s their cue to part. Taehyung is the one facing the crowd, and his shy smile while looking at Seokjin does the trick once more. Seokjin sighs and walks away to his seat with head lowered. He’s always played the part of lovestruck heartthrob so well.

“Easy, easy, we’re just getting started!” The host wiggles his eyebrows as the actors sit down. “This is going to be an interesting evening.”

The audience agrees with more applause and cheers, and so the show goes on. Everyone gets a chance to shine and receive their due warmth from the fans. Though the actors weren’t informed beforehand, the top five scenes aren’t surprising in the least: four of them revolve around the relationship between Seokjin’s and Taehyung’s characters, the slow burn that kept everyone on the edge of their seats until the last minute and contributed to their acclaimed happy ending.

As expected, the final kiss is the most voted scene of all. It is shown on a big screen, to Taehyung’s dismay. He knew this would happen, and yet he can’t stop his chest from aching at the sight of Seokjin’s tender eyes on his face, those rosy lips on his, the strong arm around his waist while his other hand cups Taehyung’s cheek… The memories come back to life so vividly, despite the years that have elapsed since it happened.

They got it right on the first take, and to this day, he’s not sure whether that was for the best.

He knows better than to let any emotions show. His reactions are closely monitored by the fans, so he coos and pretends to wipe nonexistent tears.

Once that’s over, the host cheekily suggests they should reenact it, since they are in the very same set it took place. Seokjin eyes the audience with eyebrows raised, leans forward to look at Taehyung on the other end of the row, makes sure the camera catches him winking before laughing it off. Taehyung purses his lips and keeps his gaze on his own intertwined fingers on his lap, hell-bent on nailing the coy co-star role assigned to him no matter what.

The fans, of course, bite.

There’s a short commercial break. Jimin rushes to share the reactions from social media while the makeup artists and hair stylists retouch their work.

“Your name is trending on Naver and Twitter!” He squeals, happily perched on the arm of Taehyung’s chair. “I didn’t expect any less, of course.”

“So is Seokjin’s,” another voice adds, and both look sideways to spot the speaker.

“That goes without saying,” Jimin bickers, feigning disdain at Yoongi, Seokjin’s agent. “Mind your business, will you?”

“It’s good to see you too,” Yoongi chuckles with an eye roll. “Good job, Taehyung.”

Taehyung nods at him before he walks back to Seokjin’s armchair with a water bottle in hand. Seokjin is very strict about staying hydrated while shooting, swears the strong lights make his skin dry. Taehyung doesn’t know why or how he still remembers these details. Seokjin probably doesn’t remember a single thing about him.

The show returns, and they move on to the individual questions. Now that they’re halfway done, Taehyung’s anxiety has subsided considerably, and he’s in much better shape to recite his answer just like planned.

“I absolutely did not expect that ending! It was a surprise even for me. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I got the script.” An amused laugh bubbles out of him, and everyone around him swoons in tandem, entranced by his effortless charm. “As you all know, we shot the whole drama before it aired, except for the last scene, since the writers wanted to gauge the viewers’ opinions before the main character picked between his two love interests. I had to keep it a secret from everyone for a week! Even my mom called every day asking me about it, but I didn’t say a word. Sorry, mom! I love you!”

Laughter fills the room, and a huge weight is lifted from Taehyung’s shoulders. He breathes easier now that his longest speech of the night is over and all that’s left is the funny karaoke part.

Or so he thinks.

“The last question is for Seokjin,” says the host, pointing at a girl in the audience.

“Ask away.” Seokjin nods encouragingly.

“Sorry for being so bold, but everyone’s dying to know… Have there been any hook-ups or dating among cast members?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. His script only disclosed the question directed at him, which led him to believe they weren’t meant to be personal, much less involve the other actors. In case his facial muscles decide to betray him, he reaches for the water bottle by his foot and takes a long sip. Maybe the gulping sounds will muffle his deafening heartbeat.

Seokjin hesitates, fills everyone’s hearts with anticipation. With an awkward pout, he clears his throat and speaks like he’s tossing the question to someone more qualified to answer it.

“Uh… Taehyung?”

Choking on water in front of an audience is not among the noblest ways to go, but Taehyung would gladly give up what little dignity he’s got left to die right then and there. He gasps and the water gets everywhere it shouldn’t be: it spurts from between his lips, rains down from his nostrils, splatters on his clothes, all over his hands when he covers his face, drips on the floor.

The audience goes wild. A mix of triumphant screeches and ear-splitting laughter engulfs the set.

Taehyung’s eyes sting with tears as he coughs painfully, turns away from the cameras in sheer mortification. He glances at Jimin backstage, who looks almost as shocked as himself minus the water accident, and spots Yoongi right beside him, scrolling up and down his tablet with a heavy frown. He looks up and his eyes meet Taehyung’s: Yoongi shakes his head and shrugs, just as lost as the rest of them.

“I’d say you have your answer!” The host teases, and now Taehyung really needs to pass away. “We’ll be back after the break for the last part of the reunion! Stay tuned!”

He keeps his head lowered to hide the wet mess his face has become, not to mention his extreme embarrassment. When someone kneels between his legs, he doesn’t think twice to assume it’s Jimin coming to his rescue.

“Are you okay?”

Taehyung almost chokes again when he recognizes Seokjin’s voice. Both his hands fly to his face. He peeks from between his fingers to find a guilty frown above Seokjin’s concerned eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you’d—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Yoongi cuts him through gritted teeth, back turned to the audience. “This is not the time for improv—”

“Haven’t you two done enough damage?” Jimin shoos both of them away with a forced smile to avoid raising suspicion. The sharpness in his voice says otherwise. “Let him breathe, for God’s sake!”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung mumbles from behind the group of makeup artists that rush to his aid.

“I had no idea he was going to say that,” Yoongi swears. Jimin glares at him until he has no choice but to walk away.

Taehyung catches glimpses of their distancing frames from the corner of his still watering eyes: Seokjin nods slowly while Yoongi looks like he’s giving the scolding of his life. A brush almost pokes him in the eye, and he’s forced to shut it.

“Are you really okay?” Jimin murmurs, pouring hand sanitizer on Taehyung’s palms. Taehyung hums an affirmative. “He’s such a jerk for pulling this out of nowhere! Thankfully you handled it pretty well.”

“Pretty well?” Taehyung echoes in disbelief, and another coughing fit ensues.

“Yes! It was the perfect way out, ambiguous enough to keep the mystery alive.” Jimin sounds more excited than angry now. “The fans will never shut up about this. I still wish he’d given us a warning, though.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak, focuses on stabilizing his breath and clearing his throat while the staff blow-dries the wet blotches on his clothes. His mind buzzes with colliding thoughts. Why did Seokjin joke around like that? It was a bit too much fanservice, even by their standards. Why did he choose to ignore the script without telling Yoongi about it? Didn’t it cross his mind that he would embarrass Taehyung in front of millions of viewers worldwide? Even if he just wanted to joke around, why didn’t he let Taehyung in on it first? It’s only funny if everyone is laughing.

Eventually, all the questions boil down to the same one he’s asked himself all those years: why the hell does Seokjin give him crumbs of attention while simultaneously avoiding him like the plague? It makes no sense, and kneeling before him to apologize after setting him up in front of a crowd is the cherry on top of a puzzling cake. What is Seokjin trying to accomplish?

What does Seokjin want from him?

Ever since this reunion project began, all Taehyung felt about it was dread. He feared the emotions that being in the same room as Seokjin after so much time apart would stir within him, buried under cobwebs of denial. He’s given his all to address the event with nothing but professionalism all along, only for Seokjin to make it seem pointless in a blink of an eye, like slapping a house of cards. When the show’s over, Seokjin will still be the funny, charming, handsome star, whereas Taehyung will be the one to walk out with a shameful dent on his reputation, despite his best efforts.

There’s nothing Taehyung can do about it now, except indulge him. He swallows his frustration and makes a decision that smothers the flames of his bruised ego: this is the last time he lets Seokjin affect him so much.

The staff clears out to get the show back on track. Fully recomposed for the final round, he nods at Jimin.

“I’m ready.”

The noraebang area was prepared while Taehyung recovered from his near death experience. They are told to stand in front of the screen and take a colored, glittery microphone each. The host lets them pick which of the fan favorite songs from the soundtrack they want to perform first.

It’s all very chaotic and discombobulated. The cast sways side by side, not really trying so hard to sing well, and the audience follows. Taehyung hugs the actor beside him, furrows his brows and pretends to sob, waves and points his deep green microphone at the crowd at strategic moments, when the singer belts out impressive notes he wouldn’t dare try to reach. Everyone laughs and cheers, smitten with his antics. He doesn’t look at Seokjin, on the other end of the line, determined to enjoy himself and forget about him at least for a few minutes.

His bravado works just fine until the last song begins. Taehyung’s stomach plummets when the familiar sequence of piano keys rings in his ear.

It’s his and Seokjin’s song.

The fans scream and clap, some even get up from their seats and show signs with love messages written on them above their heads. The other two actors step back to let the main leads shine, following the script like they all should, and Taehyung has no choice but to look Seokjin’s way.

Their eyes meet for a fleeting, magical moment. In spite of all his pent-up feelings and the questions gnawing at his brain, Taehyung doesn’t miss his cue.

In my cracked heart

Your cold sighs

The first words come out a bit too tremulous, but no one seems to notice. The crowd backs him up, sings along with unrestrained enthusiasm, unlike anything he’s ever experienced or expected. Taehyung can’t avoid the smile that washes over his face, and though he has his reasons to fight it, he doesn’t really want to.

It’s their first time singing together, long overdue, which partially explains the indescribable energy from the audience. These people have waited for this moment for ten years. The least they can do to express their gratitude for everything their loyal fanbases have done all this time is to set aside whatever differences exist between them and give them one hell of a performance. Seemingly sharing this mindset, Seokjin smiles back before parting his lips, a deeper shade of pink than his microphone, and delivering his lines as gracefully as in the studio version.

Like a slowly withering flower

Fall onto my heart

It’s surprisingly easy to unwind from then on. Taehyung is all heartbeat from head to toe: it ripples strong and deep through him, fueled by the familiar high of having Seokjin’s eyes on him. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he hopes Seokjin is truly enjoying this, not just pretending to. He knows it shouldn’t bother him, knows he doesn’t have a right to care, but he does. Taehyung takes a tentative step towards him, sings with the urgency his next lines demand.

This damn love, because of you

I can’t move even if I’m hurt

Even if I die, it’s definitely you

To his delight, Seokjin mirrors him and comes closer, singing with raw emotion glimmering in his eyes. He really is such a great actor, Taehyung has to admit. The best of their generation. Anyone would believe he means every word, but Taehyung knows better.

Without you, tears fill up my heart

It’s just black hell

To me, that’s who you are

Still, he’d be lying if he said the words don’t tug at his heartstrings. Tragic and bittersweet, almost too close for comfort.

Don’t leave me

Don’t leave me behind

Turn the footsteps of your heart back to me

Taehyung feels the sting of tears upon realizing this is their last, dying breath, in fiction and real life. His chest heaves with the crushing weight of goodbye.

I really want you, I put my life on the line

Take me into the scattered light

To the end of the world

The huge screen behind them works in his favor, flashing the heartfelt scenes of their fictional romance featured on the OST music video. A camera could surely catch the suspicious glint in his eyes if it zoomed in enough, so all distractions from his rapid blinking are welcome. Seokjin, on the other hand, is perfectly composed, though his expression has contorted into something akin to agony to match the lyrics.

Na na na na na na

It’s gonna be you

Na na na na na na

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

I can’t let go

Chills run down his spine when Seokjin belts out his iconic high note. It’s hard for him to keep singing while experiencing the climax of the song in its first and last live performance, but Taehyung trods on, has no choice but to ride this cathartic wave before it drowns him. The words pour out of him in a voice that comes from deep inside his soul and, he hopes, matches the intensity in Seokjin’s.

I’ll sacrifice myself to protect you

I’ll do it obviously

I will make this crisis into an opportunity

Breaking eye contact becomes a challenge, because Taehyung knows when he does, it will be for good. It hurts so much to let go, but what else can he do when there’s nothing left to hold on to?

You are my best decision, nothing can stop me

Take me into the scattered light

To the end of the world

He whispers to the void, no fight left to scream, one last time: does Seokjin feel it too? Is it all just in his head?

Na na na na na na

It’s gonna be you

Na na na na na na

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

I can’t let go

Before such harrowing thoughts take him by storm, Taehyung slams that door shut, focuses on smiling despite himself and ending the show on a happy note for the fans. Besides, he promised himself this is the last time he’ll agonize over the skeleton Seokjin has become in his closet, and he has every intention of keeping his word.

He will be just fine… After chugging down a bottle of wine, alone in his empty apartment, maybe rewatching their fictional kiss a thousand times until his teary, puffy eyes go dry, of course, but he will. It’s high time to put this pain to rest.

Na na na na na na

Na na na na na na

They stand face to face, only their microphones between them. A monumental storm of cheers and applause rains down on them, rattling his bones and shaking him to the core. For a fragile, blissful moment, Seokjin seems just as affected by it. Taehyung watches his shoulders rise and drop with the sigh he lets out, wonders if Seokjin can feel he’s about to give up.

The thought is left on hold momentarily, and so is the whole world, when Seokjin pulls him in for a hug, arms wrapped around him, pressed close, so close that Taehyung can barely gasp.

It hurts to grin while a chunk of his heart is dying. For the sake of everyone around them, Taehyung does it anyway, smiles so big his watering eyes disappear long enough for him to will the sobs away. Any emotional slip can be easily attributed to the grandeur of the occasion, surely, but he’d rather not make an even bigger fool of himself and save his tears for the privacy of his flat.

He returns the embrace the best way he can, lays both hands on Seokjin’s shoulder blades. Last time they hugged was right after they—their characters—kissed, at the very last day of shooting. The entire cast and crew was on set to witness the epic moment everyone had been waiting for, and as soon as the director gave them his thumbs up, they melted in each other’s arms, smiling and thanking each other for everything. It is Taehyung’s most vulnerable memory of Seokjin, one he avoids revisiting because it always takes him days to crawl out of the what if hole.

This time Seokjin’s arms don’t feel nearly as warm, yet the drumming in his chest reaches the dying embers in Taehyung’s heart. It’s not enough to revive them, but at least it answers the question haunting Taehyung’s thoughts earlier.

Yes. Somehow, he must feel that Taehyung is giving up and, quite selfishly, is pleading him not to.

The host wraps the show by thanking the artists and fans. Seokjin doesn’t let go; it’s Taehyung who lowers his arms first, and he quietly follows. They don’t look at each other, turn to the audience right away, wave and bow side by side, send flying kisses and finger hearts to the smiling faces before them. With a hand over his trampled heart, Taehyung tries to make eye contact with as many people as possible, to bask in the energy they so gratefully bestow upon him and remind himself that it’s okay if things end.

If so many people can still love something this much after a decade of silence, merely replaying their favorite parts to comfort themselves on hard days, perhaps Taehyung can do the same. Perhaps Seokjin can become a memory he wraps around himself like a blanket on lonely nights, without all the aching of failed expectations and unaddressed feelings.

Perhaps.

While Jimin leads him backstage, Taehyung doesn’t acknowledge much of the fuss around him, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened. He does notice one thing, however: Seokjin is nowhere in sight. It’s impossible, he knows, but it feels like his chest will physically collapse at any moment, crushed by the inescapable full stop their script has reached.

Their encounters will once more narrow down to catching glimpses of each other at award shows. He’ll be lucky if their eyes ever meet again.

Taehyung can live with that. He’s done it before. In fact, that’s all he’s ever done since he met Seokjin: collected the pieces of his shattered hopes and carried the shards back home in his bleeding hands. How many more times will he insist on rebuilding them?

Sitting alone in his dressing room, staring at his reflection in the few minutes of solitude he asked Jimin before leaving, he begs himself to break free from this hellish loop.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, senses a killer headache brewing. Maybe only one bottle of wine won’t do. 

“Taehyung.”

His eyes open so fast at the sound of Seokjin’s voice that he has to blink a few times to see clearly. Petrified, Taehyung doesn’t turn around to face him, warily returns his gaze through the mirror.

“Jimin said you asked for some time alone, but…”

He doesn’t offer a suggestion for Seokjin’s unfinished sentence, doesn’t lift a finger to make the situation more comfortable for him. Since he’s already bothered coming all the way to Taehyung’s quarters, he might as well finish what he started. Seokjin looks down, gulps audibly in the quiet space.

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what, exactly?”

Taehyung feels challenge burning in his own irises. The comeback is so sudden and sharp that Seokjin’s head jerks back a little. He recovers quickly, squares his jaw to answer.

“For everything you deem me guilty of.” It’s so predictable and vague that Taehyung rolls his eyes shut. “It was never my intention to upset you—”

“Is that all?” Taehyung cuts him again, fingertips rubbing circles on his forehead. He knows there’s no rational excuse for lashing out this way, and that this brief conversation is bound to haunt his conscience forever, but all he can feel right now is the bone-deep exhaustion of having to pretend—that it’s easy being around Seokjin while his heart thunders furiously, that their small talk laced with fascinated glances and smiles doesn’t fry his confused nerves, that there haven’t been heaps of tension between them since they first met… That Seokjin not showing enough interest to make a move all these years doesn’t wound him.

At the very least, this is his chance to find out if Seokjin only interacts with him for the attention Taehyung lavishes on him. Should that be the case, Seokjin won’t hesitate to turn around and leave now. Taehyung half expects him to; the anger of discovering he’s been nothing but a prop all along will give him all the motivation he needs to move on. He keeps his eyes shut, waiting for the door to click open and close, but the sounds never come.

Much to his surprise, when Taehyung looks at the mirror again, Seokjin has taken one step towards him. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He closes it, exhales, his shoulders slump. There’s a quiet urgency in his stare, beckoning him to understand what Seokjin cannot verbalize. At last, after what feels like more than just seconds, he squeezes out a few strained words.

“Can we go somewhere?”

His eyes dart nervously from one side of the room to the other, and though they’re perfectly alone, it dawns on Taehyung that Seokjin doesn’t feel comfortable there, where any stranger could hear or walk in on them.

If Taehyung meant nothing to him, Seokjin would have just walked away after being treated so rudely… Wouldn’t he?

“Where?” He breathes, not without difficulty due to the violent beating of his heart at the mere thought of going somewhere with Seokjin.

Seokjin’s eyes widen, as if he hasn’t thought of the rest of the plan yet. Before he can back out, Taehyung jumps to his feet and walks to him. From up close, he notices how Seokjin’s chest rises and falls at a quicker pace than usual. The silence is feeding all the foolish hopes he planned on destroying, he might asphyxiate under their weight if Seokjin doesn’t say something soon.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. His eyes soften now that Taehyung is near. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Taehyung can barely believe his ears. He studies Seokjin’s face, looking for an explanation that’s not there. Afraid to ruin whatever this is by talking, he simply nods. Seokjin nods back, and Taehyung almost glimpses a smile in his eyes before he turns around.

They avoid the door where Jimin is waiting, take the side one that leads to a dark, empty corridor commonly used by staff. Everyone is too busy and distracted to notice them sneaking out through the emergency exit that leads to the parking lot.

There’s a small group of people from the press loading a van, too far away to detect movement in the large, poorly illuminated area. Still, given how both of them have dealt with fame for a long time, they crouch down before walking out the door. Seokjin’s car is conveniently parked nearby, which has Taehyung wondering if escaping unnoticed is a habit of his. Once they’ve taken their seats, enveloped by the silence in the vehicle, they let out relieved sighs.

Seokjin’s eyes are already on him when Taehyung looks his way. He chuckles, blushing instantly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. A faint smile appears on Seokjin’s face, and without warning or restraint, his gaze drops to Taehyung’s lips.

It’s so unexpected and bold, so unlike Seokjin, that Taehyung’s breath catches in his throat. He dares not move, except for his fluttering eyelashes, which, though feather-like, are powerful enough to break the delicate spell. Seokjin turns away and clears his throat. If not for his reddening ears, Taehyung would have doubted that moment was real.

“So, do you know a place we can go without attracting attention?”

“I don’t… Really go out much.” Taehyung shrugs. He does know a place they can go, but that would imply inviting Seokjin to his house, and that feels like too mu— 

“How about my place?”

Taehyung whips his head so fast he can almost hear the air whooshing in his ears. Seokjin tenses up in his seat, like he wants to take those words back for the same reasons Taehyung struggled not to say them.

“It’s a five-minute drive,” he rambles on, and the thin layer of sweat glistening on his temple is blatant evidence of his discomfort. “And we would have all the privacy to—” His nostrils flare in contained panic. “I mean, we’d have nothing to worry about.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks more like a grimace, grips the steering wheel with one hand, so strong his knuckles turn white. “I have wine. You like wine, don’t you?”

It’s painful to watch him squirm and stutter. Taehyung stares at him like he grew another head, which is not entirely far from the truth: this is a side of Seokjin he’s never seen before, one he almost thought didn’t exist, for even in their dearest moments, Seokjin always made sure to keep him at arm’s length.

“I do,” he murmurs with a weak smile.

Seokjin nods in relief, brings the car to life. “Alright.”

They buckle up and drive off without another word. Of course the car engine is ridiculously silent: Hyundai’s most cutting edge model, a humble gift for having Seokjin’s face on their ads. Taehyung keeps his eyes on the blurry streets out the window, until his phone buzzes in his pocket and he remembers Jimin still has no idea he left. Where the hell are you?, he shouts at Taehyung through the notification on his lock screen.

He writes a quick reply telling Jimin not to worry, that he’ll explain everything the next day. The typing bubble reappears as soon as his texts are delivered. Taehyung turns off his phone before Jimin gets the chance to scold him for disappearing like a grounded teenager. He’s already having a mental breakdown as it is, he doesn’t need more reasons to grit his teeth.

“Is Jimin mad that you ditched him?” Seokjin asks when he puts the phone back in his pocket. Though he speaks low, it startles Taehyung.

“No. Just confused.”

Seokjin smirks. “Yoongi must be freaking out too. He didn’t see me leaving either.”

He’s focused on the road ahead. His profile takes Taehyung’s breath away nonetheless. He wishes he could say Seokjin is still just as dazzling as when they first met, but that wouldn’t do his beauty justice. If anything, the confidence with which he moves and speaks now, in his thirties, has only magnified his charms. Seokjin is so attractive it hurts to look at him and not blurt out something inappropriate, yet Taehyung can’t look away.

There’s a stubborn strand of hair falling on his forehead, the city lights draw random patterns on his skin, his sleeves are folded up to his elbows now and he’s only driving with one hand on the wheel. The other sits on his leg, palm down, cupping his own inner thigh absent-mindedly. Taehyung’s fingers twitch on his lap. He squeezes both hands between his legs and brings his knees together, skin prickling under the clothes.

Unless he wants to commit social suicide by arriving at Seokjin’s house with a raging boner, Taehyung needs to distract himself.

“Don’t they ever get tired of doing that?” He sighs, a little high-pitched, forcing himself to look anywhere but at Seokjin. “Freaking out over us?”

Seokjin’s squeaky laugh fills the vehicle. “Apparently yes, but then again, they’re paid for it. At least that’s what Yoongi says every time he scolds me.”

“That sounds just like Jimin.” Taehyung smiles and rolls his eyes. 

“Good to know I’m not the only one getting bullied on a daily basis by a man who’s shorter than me.”

Taehyung gasps, turns to Seokjin right on time to catch him glancing back with a mischievous grin. They burst out laughing, and maybe the joke is not even that funny, but it does a great job at breaking the ice.

“They’d scold us forever if they knew about this.” Taehyung’s shoulders shake with remnants of laughter.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Seokjin winks, and Taehyung’s heartbeat barely has time to trip on itself before he takes a turn and drives them through an automatic gate. “We’re here.”

Behind the high walls topped by an electric fence, two other fancy cars rest in front of a magnificent house. As Seokjin parks beside them, Taehyung inspects his surroundings in silent awe: a luxurious mansion spreads itself before his eyes, all sleek glass and elegant angles contrasting with the greens and browns of a well-tended garden. It comes as a surprise to Taehyung that this isn’t much different from his own house. He didn’t expect Seokjin to live at such a modest place—that is, compared to some of his A-list celebrity friends who owned small palaces with more rooms than they could ever truly fill with people they knew by name.

Coming to think of it now, it doesn’t really make sense that Seokjin would follow any sort of exorbitant trend like that. At this point in his life, he’s got nothing left to prove. He is the standard, fair and square. Everyone else is merely trying to reach him, and it’s very clear to Taehyung, as their eyes meet again, that they’re all doomed to fail.

“Please let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” Seokjin’s whisper mingles with the faint rustle of leaves outside. He blinks at Taehyung a few times, eyes like twinkling stars in the dark. “Just say the word and I’ll drive you home.”

Taehyung’s heart breaks, and a tender ache bleeds through the cracks. He’s met tons of influential people, far less relevant or interesting than Seokjin in every possible way, yet not a single one of them has ever asked him that. They all assume others want to be in their company, that they have something unique to offer, when deep down, they’re all the same, boring and predictable. Saying the right things, smiling for the right reasons, repeating the same lines they’ve heard from somebody else.

It’s all so fake. But Seokjin… Seokjin is not like them.

No matter how hard he tries to shut Taehyung out, no matter what his reasons are for acting this way, it doesn’t work. He sees right through Seokjin, knows he is real, like day must always become night, like wind on his hair. Taehyung is hopelessly drawn, like a moth to a flame, because they are made of the same stuff.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t care if he’s a fool, doesn’t care about anything except this tenderness taking over him, strong and unshakeable like only love can be. “I’m happy you brought me here.”

A relieved smile blossoms on Seokjin’s face. Like the tides rise with a full moon, Taehyung smiles back.

“Let’s go.”

They get out of the car and walk to the house exchanging giddy glances. Seokjin lets him walk in first, lingers by the closed door once they’ve replaced their shoes for slippers. Taehyung takes a few hesitant steps into the living room, looks around, with Seokjin’s stare hot on his back. All he hears in the large, yet cozy space are his own breaths and his blood rushing in his ears, spreading liquid fire through his veins.

He spins on his heels slowly, takes in the classy furniture, the inviting couch, the sophisticated color palette, but mostly—mostly, he pictures Seokjin occupying every corner, in his pajamas, wet black hair falling on his forehead, just existing like a normal person. His chest tightens, craves; his eyelids droop after a particularly deep, greedy breath.

Seokjin approaches him with pursed lips, hands in his pockets. “Overkill?”

“Not at all,” Taehyung grins. “It’s perfect.”

He bows in gratitude, eyes on Taehyung’s for a beat too long, like there’s something unsaid, stuck on the tip of his tongue. It’s gone before Taehyung can decipher it, behind the curtain of a cordial smile.

“Still up for wine?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Taehyung scoffs. The warmth of Seokjin’s smirk seeps through his skin, hugs his bones.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

He watches Seokjin’s frame disappear behind a corner and holds back a laugh. If only he knew just how much Taehyung would like to make himself at home, he might not have chosen such words.

The obvious course of action is to sit on the couch, so he does, groans in relief after hours of tension on set. There’s some drowsiness at the back of his mind, but the thrill of being in Seokjin’s house overpowers every other feeling. He throws his head back and covers his face with both hands, allowing himself to squeal internally for a second or two.

Unable to sit still, Taehyung shakes off the slippers to cross his legs under his body. It suddenly hits him that apart from Jimin’s vague updates during the shooting, he hasn’t had time to check what the media is saying about the reunion. He reaches for his phone, then remembers the avalanche of angry texts Jimin must have sent and decides he’s not that curious, after all.

Luckily, there’s another way to find out, and it’s right in front of him: Seokjin’s massive television, attached to the wall opposite the couch. A quick search around reveals the remote control, forgotten among fluffy cushions. He flits through the main news channels, doesn’t find their faces anywhere.

“Maybe it’s already available on Netflix,” Taehyung pouts to himself. He presses a button and the red logo fills the screen.

The catalog takes a few seconds to load. Footsteps announce Seokjin’s return, but Taehyung can’t tear his eyes away from the TV, mouth gone dry as soon as he spots the items on the “Continue watching” list.

Taehyung’s entire filmography is there.

He blinks once, twice. The image doesn’t change.

The red bars at the bottom of the thumbnails vary in length, meaning Seokjin has indeed watched at least two or three episodes of each series. Some of them are almost finished. The first in line is the one they worked in together: eleven out of sixteen episodes.

His first instinct is to deem it a coincidence. Of course. What else could it be? He shouldn’t make a big deal out of this.

That instinct lasts approximately two seconds.

No, Taehyung doesn’t buy that for a second. His intuition is screaming that this is too specific to be the work of chance, and it’s not only because he wants it to mean something. He knows because he’s done it too, has secretly rewatched Seokjin’s works, fallen asleep to the sound of his voice coming from the TV, dreamt he was the one on the receiving end of Seokjin’s affections.

It doesn’t mean Seokjin goes to those embarrassing lengths as well, but his interest in Taehyung, even if strictly professional, is undeniable.

His stomach twists, renewed hope courses through him. Face hot with a mix of shame and exhilaration, Taehyung stares at the grey rug until he can’t anymore. His eyes find Seokjin, standing by the couch like a living statue, wine bottle in one hand, two glasses in the other, terribly disconcerted. He can tell Seokjin is coming up with the perfect excuse to send him home and never make eye contact again for as long as they live. To short-circuit his reaction and buy himself some time, Taehyung voices the first thought that comes to mind.

“I’ve been rewatching it too. For the reunion.”

Seokjin’s ears turn flaming red in seconds before his eyes. Though there’s still deep mortification on his face when he returns Taehyung’s stare, the slight slumping of his shoulders indicates the tactful words have somehow soothed him.

“Really?”

Taehyung nods with an honest smile. His gentle damage control seems to lift most of the tension, much to his relief. Since he’s the one who went snooping around and put Seokjin in such an uncomfortable position, the least he can do is change the subject and pretend it never happened… For now.

“It’s so much fun.” He looks down at his own hands on his lap. “I still remember how it was to shoot most of my scenes.”

I remember everything about the ones I shot with you, he wants to say, bites his tongue before it comes out.

Seokjin doesn’t react. Taehyung looks up again to find him staring, eyes slightly narrowed, considering something in his mind. Despite the curiosity eating him alive, Taehyung doesn’t hate the feeling of having Seokjin’s gaze on him in such a piercing manner.

“You know, I didn’t have a plan when I walked into your dressing room earlier,” he starts, a reticent smile shaping his lips as he places the wine bottle and glasses on the table. “Hell, I didn’t have a plan ten seconds ago. But you just gave me an idea.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise. “I did?”

Seokjin hums an affirmative, takes the seat next to Taehyung on the couch, so close their knees touch.

“We could watch some episodes together… Like our own reunion.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows fly up at the invitation. His pulse picks up speed at the thought of spending hours revisiting their past together, and the fact that this is Seokjin’s idea makes it so much more meaningful. That’s far more intimate than just a few wine glasses interspersed with awkward silences, so much further than he’s ever let Taehyung in before.

He’d be lying if he said he’s never pictured himself doing that with Seokjin, snuggling up in bed on a rainy Sunday. Then again, the list of activities he’s pictured himself doing with Seokjin is pretty infinite.

Blinking away the surprise, he grins wide, nods with enthusiasm. “I’d like that a lot.”

Seokjin squints at his wristwatch. “It’s late, I suppose we could watch two or three episodes, if you’re not too tired.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ve been going to bed late these days.”

“Tell me about it.” Seokjin sighs. “I’m jet-lagged as hell.”

With a sympathetic pout, Taehyung pretends not to know all about Seokjin’s two-week trip to Los Angeles. He’s seen every picture Seokjin posted on Instagram with Western celebrities, all so obviously infatuated by him, as they should, and the selfie on the airplane flying back to Seoul about two days ago, which Taehyung kept zooming in on to find all the flaws Seokjin doesn’t have.

“Why have you been sleeping late, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Seokjin speaks in such a gentle tone, laced with genuine concern, that had Taehyung not been in love with him for a huge chunk of his life, he would have fallen head over heels right then.

“Jimin says I’m a night owl.” He shrugs, eyes wandering around before returning to Seokjin’s, like magnets. “It’s when I feel most at ease.”

“Oh, I’m more of a morning person. I hate staying up all night after traveling.” Seokjin’s annoyance melts into a smile. “But I have a feeling it won’t be so bad this time.”

Is he dreaming? That’s the only plausible explanation for Seokjin’s behavior. Maybe the water he choked on during the reunion somehow went up to his brain and is giving him hallucinations. He can almost hear Jimin’s fingers snapping in front of his face to bring him back to planet Earth at the dressing room.

Whatever this is, he wants to make the most of every second before his time’s up and this, too, like all dreams, comes to an end.

Will he survive reality when he wakes up, alone in his bed yet again?

“I hope so,” he answers, both to Seokjin and himself.

They agree to grab something to eat instead of drinking wine on empty stomachs. This time, Taehyung follows Seokjin to the kitchen: just like the rest of what he’s seen, it’s large and well-equipped. Seokjin’s penchant for cooking is public information; Taehyung is not surprised to see the cabinets are packed with all sorts of ingredients and utensils, and that Seokjin knows exactly where each one is.

There’s some broth and vegetables ready in the fridge, so Seokjin decides to prepare janchi guksu. They discuss which episodes to rewatch as the noodles cook. To Taehyung’s amazement, Seokjin is a total expert as well, quickly remembers which scenes happened in which episodes. Conversation flows naturally between them, they hold eye contact and smile without fear, the rare moments of silence aren’t nearly as awkward as before.

While Seokjin is busy serving two equal portions of food, back turned to him, Taehyung catches himself gripping the edge of the counter, eyes clinging to his broad shoulders moving under the shirt. They’ve barely even started, and he already fears the inevitable heartbreak of saying goodbye.

“You don’t like spicy food, right?”

The question is a welcome interruption to Taehyung’s anxious thoughts, anchors him to the present.

“Right.” The question bubbles out of him unfiltered. “You still remember that?”

It was only ever addressed once between them, during promotions for the series. One of the interviews was a yes or no quiz about the cast members, to check how much they knew about each other after months on set. Taehyung remembers it, of course, because he remembers everything Seokjin has ever said or done. He never thought Seokjin would remember such a trivial detail about him.

After adding chili peppers to only one meal, Seokjin turns around, a steaming bowl on each hand and a kind smile on his face.

“Of course I do.” Then, in the most casual way, like this isn’t their first time having dinner together, he nods at something behind Taehyung. “Bring the napkins and chopsticks, will you?”

Seokjin pads his way back to the living room, leaves him behind to collect the pieces of his broken heart. Taehyung’s got half a mind to forget a splinter under the table on purpose, just for Seokjin to find it someday and have a reason to reach out, or at least remember him again when this is all over.

They pop the wine bottle open, toast in silence, eyes never wavering from each other. Seokjin keeps staring as they angle their heads back to drink. Taehyung can’t help but smile around the edge of the glass.

“Stop it! You’ve already made me choke today.”

He only realizes how wrong that sounds when Seokjin coughs furiously into his glass, almost snorts wine on his clothes and couch. Taehyung’s whole body blushes, a feat he didn’t even know was possible until now. Once Seokjin recovers, he laughs so heartily, slapping his own knee like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in years, that Taehyung has no choice but to join him. And so they leave the awkwardness behind yet again.

The food is gone before the first episode of their list ends. Seokjin fetches another wine bottle halfway through the second one. They don’t ever stop talking, commenting on every possible memory that arises even when neither is featured on the scene. The hours go by unnoticed, filled with laughter and remembrances of their cast and crew members.

“I remember Ken sent me flowers the day we shot this,” Seokjin remarks during a scene of him and Taehyung, a slight slur in his voice. “It was my birthday.”

“Oh.” The name feels like a bucket of ice water over Taehyung’s head. He doesn’t even try to resist prying, tongue loosened by the alcohol. “You two were very close.”

“Still are. He called today to congratulate me on the reunion.”

Taehyung tries not to let it get to him, the peaceful smile sitting on Seokjin’s face as he speaks. He wants to believe that Seokjin was glad to be working with him instead of celebrating his birthday with his best friend in the whole world Ken. He fails, of course, ends up hugging the cushion tighter in his arms, face almost buried in it. If Seokjin notices it, he chooses to ignore it, goes on talking.

“He’s shooting a drama with that friend of yours next year, have you heard?”

“Yes, Hyungsik told me the other day.” Taehyung can hear the disinterest in his voice, too consumed to do something about it. Deep down, he hopes Seokjin hears it too.

“Hyungsik, right.” Seokjin lifts his index from the wine glass he’s holding, like he’d forgotten the name, which is odd to say the least, since Hyungsik is among Korea’s most prominent actors just like the both of them. “Yoongi mentioned he sent you a whole coffee truck on your birthday last year. Full of your pictures together.”

Taehyung frowns, turns his head to look at his impassive profile. Their characters are arguing on screen, it’s ironic that the atmosphere around them is getting heavier as well. He doesn’t know what Seokjin is trying to accomplish with this conversation, but he decides to play along.

“That’s true. It was very thoughtful of him.”

“Very!” Seokjin nearly squeals, eyes squeezed shut, yet something about his tone sounds wrong. “No wonder everyone thought you were dating.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. So this is where he wanted to get.

“Dating is a strong word,” he murmurs, after some hesitation. He doesn’t want to lie, but Seokjin is stepping into private territory, and with far more entitlement than Taehyung has granted him, or that he’s ever granted Taehyung, for that matter.

At last, Seokjin faces him, still smiling, though his eyes disagree. “So you were sleeping with him?”

He’s speaking brazenly now, like Taehyung’s life is somehow his business, like he hasn’t spent the last decade actively trying to avoid being part of it. Taehyung feels himself deflating, the fragile harmony between them shattered beyond repair. His reply is loaded with resentment.

“As if you and Ken haven’t done the same.”

Seokjin scoffs, turning away from him. “Ken is just a friend.”

“Hyungsik is just a friend too.” He can’t believe Seokjin is giving him shit like this, can’t believe this ugly side of him, rude and aloof. “Like I wish you had been all these years.”

As much as he means every word, Taehyung has never felt so disrespected. He can’t bear to go on looking at Seokjin, the man he spent such a long time of his life pining after and who’s just proven himself to be a first class jerk.

How fucking stupid is he? What else did he think would happen? Seokjin doesn’t give a fuck about him, he just happened to remember Taehyung’s existence at the reunion and decided to bring him home as a late night snack, because that’s all Taehyung is good for. He’s just someone to sleep with.

He hates being so needy, like a child begging for attention, hates the tears burning in his eyes. His chest hurts so bad he can barely breathe, heavy with disappointment and self-loathing.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin murmurs over the clinking of his glass being set aside on the table. “I am your friend.”

Taehyung chokes on a scornful laugh, shakes his head in disbelief. His eyes zero in on Seokjin, he’s out for blood. “Are you kidding me right now? I don’t know what’s your idea of friendship, but what we have is not it. In fact, what we have is a big fat nothing, and trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Taehyung…”

“Don’t Taehyung me. You’re the one who brought me here and made me food and gave me wine under the pretense of making our own reunion, but at the first opportunity started asking me about who I dated like you give a damn.” He’s close to yelling in frustration now, can’t see through the tears blurring his vision and rolling down his face. Seokjin must be bored out of his wits by his temper tantrum. “Why is this the first relevant question you ask me all this time? What did you expect me to do, shut everyone out and wait for you to finally notice me?”

“That’s not…”

“Why didn’t you call me before you enlisted, like you said you would on the last day of shooting? And why did you call me the night before I enlisted, just to breathe on the phone and hang up without a word?”

His panting is the only sound in the room. Seokjin can’t even look at him. It makes him feel more disgusting and queasy by the second.

“You know what? I am uncomfortable now, so I’m gonna go.”

Trembling from head to toe, he gets up and marches out of the living room towards the front door. Seokjin follows, dares to grab his wrist.

“Taehyung, wait—”

“I’ve waited ten years for you!” He screams, pulls his arm back, turning around with a decade worth of heartbreak in his eyes and voice. “You are not entitled to another second of my life.”

Seokjin doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything, like always. Taehyung takes a moment to draw in a tremulous breath, rather light-headed by alcohol and the intensity of his emotions. When he speaks again, it’s a cold and detached thing.

“Oh, and since we’re at it, you can stop sending me anonymous flowers on my birthday.” Seokjin’s head whips up at the revelation. Before he can mumble a question, Taehyung answers it for him. “Yeah, I know they’re yours. I called the flower shop after the third year, thinking it could be a devoted fan I should thank or a weird stalker I should worry about. After pulling some favors for them, they told me you pay extra for anonymity. I don’t get it, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. Donate the money, if you must do charity.”

“They’re not charity.” He retorts through gritted teeth, angered by the way Taehyung dismisses his gifts. “I send them because I want to.”

“Well, I don’t want them anymore!”

His voice rings loud through the empty house, ruthless and final. Taehyung gives him one last hurtful look before spinning on his heels and walking out of Seokjin’s life.

Jimin picks him up after Taehyung calls him sobbing in the middle of the night. He doesn’t ask why Taehyung was at Seokjin’s house, doesn’t ask why he’s crying, doesn’t bring it up anymore. He just takes care of his friend the best way he can. Taehyung is grateful. He doesn’t think he can share that part of him yet without crumbling again, still needs some time to mourn and bury it.

The year ends, the award season comes and goes. Taehyung doesn’t attend any of them due to (fake) schedule conflicts, spends all of them at home, purposefully avoiding the world and watching foreign TV shows. He’s too sensitive to watch Korean dramas, they all remind him of Seokjin for some fucking reason, and that’s the last thing he needs to be reminded of.

On the morning of his birthday, Jimin wakes him up by joining him in bed, one leg thrown over the small of his back, whispering happy birthday to his nape. He doesn’t really see the point in celebrating, he’ll die alone and bitter anyway.

“Your gift is in the living room,” Jimin murmurs, peppering his cheek with kisses. “If I were you, I’d wash that pretty face of yours and rush to check it out.”

“Later,” Taehyung grumbles, scrunching his nose in protest. “Sleepy.”

“Oh, this will surely wake you up,” Jimin giggles, lifting himself off the bed. “Make sure to brush your teeth too. Your breath smells.”

He lifts an eyelid to inspect the sly smile on his friend’s face. Something is terribly wrong about it. He rolls to his back and sits up right away, frowning. Jimin laughs and hurries out of the room, giving Taehyung no choice but to follow after a quick stop by the bathroom to freshen up. He combs through his wicked bed head in front of the mirror, but his hair is too rebellious to obey and he’s too sleepy to try harder, so he drags himself to the living room in his crumpled shorts and oversized T-shirt and almost passes out at the sight expecting him.

Kim Seokjin is standing awkwardly by the couch, in a three-piece suit like a damn prince, a familiar bouquet of purple flowers in his hands.

Jimin was wrong. He’s definitely still dreaming.

“I know you said you don’t want them anymore,” Seokjin starts in a small voice, his blush visible from afar. “But I figured you might accept them if I delivered them myself.”

Taehyung swallows a hurt sound that tries to climb up his throat. Vaguely, like a fuzzy cloud in the sky of his mind, he remembers he’s mad at Seokjin, or is supposed to be, at least.

“What are you doing here?” He stutters after a long time in silence trying to piece his thoughts together. The answer comes tinged with the utmost regret and no shadow of doubt.

“What I should have done ten years ago.” Seokjin walks around the couch to take a seat. Taehyung can hardly breathe under his escalating expectation. “I’m here to tell you everything. I owe you that much.”

With a head tilt, Seokjin asks Taehyung to sit beside him. Taehyung gulps before complying, with trembling legs and a racing heart.

“First, I want to apologize for the way I treated you at my house. I never meant to make you feel violated or used, and there’s no excuse for my behavior. I could blame it on the wine, but I admit that all it did was bring out the worst in me.”

He waits for Taehyung to nod to go on.

“I wanted to call you back then, like I told you I would after the shooting ended. I was going to ask you out, had planned the date and everything.” There’s a smile in his words, though it’s a sad one. “As you know, I had a week left before enlisting, so my family prepared a surprise dinner for me.”

Seokjin pauses, drags out a long sigh.

“God, I know it sounds so stupid in retrospect… Trust me, no one hates myself more than I do. But I was young and gullible, I didn’t know any better. Anyway, my uncle had one too many drinks that night and at some point he sat beside me, started talking about his experience. I was shocked to hear he’d been in a similar situation. He got in a relationship right before going away… Then six months later, the girl broke up with him because she’d met someone else. He said he never got over her, that she was the reason he ended up a bachelor.”

Taehyung can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but listen. The world is spinning around him, faster than he can stomach.

“I thought of you right away. I didn’t fear that you’d meet someone else. I’d be happy to see you happy. What I feared was keeping you stuck in a relationship that would have to stay on hold for two years. It didn’t seem fair to make you wait, even though I suspected you liked me back. So I left without calling you.”

He sounds so relieved, like he’s finally letting out everything that’s been bottled up all along. The knot in Taehyung’s throat tightens with each word Seokjin says.

“When I got back, you were shooting that drama with Hyungsik, and the dating rumors were so convincing. All your fans were so happy for you, even the media. It crushed me, but at least I knew I’d made the right choice by letting you go.”

Hot tears stream down Taehyung’s face. He cries numbly, quietly, can’t make a sound, can’t believe this is real. Though that doesn’t justify his attitude, it at least explains why Hyungsik was such a sore spot for him back at his place, why he snapped at Taehyung when his name came up.

“You contacted me back then, but I couldn’t bear to talk to you like everything was fine. Two busy years had passed for you, you met so many new people, worked so hard on the opportunities you got, while I was stuck in the past, thinking about that one kiss we shared on screen, about how much I wanted to go back in time and screw it up so we would have kissed again and again. I was selfish and stepped back. I did my best to stay out of your way as much as possible. Eventually, you stopped trying, of course.”

Seokjin goes on with watering eyes, nothing but sorrow and honesty in his tone.

“But then, the reunion came up. And the idea of being around you, revisiting those times that meant so much to me… I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it. After we hugged, all the feelings I’d tried so hard to control came rushing back at once. I saw in that question about dating among cast members an opportunity to gauge your feelings. Maybe there was still hope for me, for us. So I ignored the script and answered like that, and as much as I felt bad for the way you reacted, it also gave me hope. I didn’t know what it meant, or what to say, what to do. I just ran to your dressing room as soon as I could. All I knew is that I wanted a chance, to spend some time with you… When you accepted to leave with me, I thought I was going to burst with happiness.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me for everything I did, but I needed you to know that my only intention was to make you happy.” Seokjin’s voice is small now, pleading. “I’m so sorry that I ended up hurting you. I had no idea. I thought you had moved on, that you were okay, and that’s all that mattered to me.”

The air Taehyung didn’t even know he was holding leaves him in a long sigh. He’s completely shocked, heart pounding in his chest, paralyzed and defenseless. An entirely new dimension has unfurled before his eyes, blinding him to everything except one certainty.

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” He hiccups after a long time, lifts a hand to caress the purple petals on Seokjin’s lap. “And for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

Seokjin’s face falls further as he understands rejection in Taehyung’s words. He lowers his head for a moment to recompose himself, then looks at him again with a broken smile.

“I promise I won’t send them anymore.”

“No, you won’t.” Taehyung sniffles, fresh sobs about to shake him. “Because you will be bringing them to me every morning on my birthday. With breakfast in bed… If that’s okay with you.”

Wide-eyed, Seokjin stares at him until he finally realizes what Taehyung means. A blinding smile shapes his features, his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“Really?”

Taehyung nods, crying out of happiness.

“Really.”

“I’d like that,” Seokjin nods back, glances down to Taehyung’s hand and risks reaching out for it. Taehyung turns his palm upwards, and their fingers slot together perfectly. “I’d like that a lot.”

“I’m seriously considering going back to bed so you can start right now,” Taehyung jokes. They share a wet, silly laugh.

“Good idea.”

He doesn’t go back to bed. He doesn’t even leave the couch. Seokjin’s hand on his face, wiping happy tears from the corner of his eye, keeps him chained to his seat.

“Happy birthday, Taehyung.”

He closes his eyes when Seokjin leans into him, smiling like a fool. Their lips touch, sweet and tender and divine, just like the first time and at the same time so unlike it.

He’s been here before, in these arms, yet not as himself. Not as Kim Taehyung, as someone else—fictional, intangible, just like Seokjin has been to him until that morning. A character on a flat screen, cold to the touch, everywhere except where it mattered: within reach, pressed against him, stealing the air from his very lungs, dictating the beating of his frenzied heart.

Eventually, Taehyung lets Seokjin carry him back to bed, unfolds the tired creases of his soul under Seokjin’s adoring touch. Their love a forgotten fan letter in a rusty P.O. box, written in scented paper that never faded despite the passing of time. He lets Seokjin read him, every line dotted with sighs and moans, every instance of smudged ink forgiven with kisses and whispers, apologies and tears.

For the first time, they’re not just playing characters on someone else’s script. They’re the ones in charge of the plot, creating their own dialogues, sharing uninhibited glances and smiles because there’s no one around to direct them, no proper camera angles to limit them.

“Taehyung,” Seokjin whispers, not because it’s a secret, but because his lips are close to Taehyung’s ear and there’s not enough air in his lungs to speak louder.

“Hm?” Taehyung hums, crushed under the weight of Seokjin’s naked body and somehow floating among the stars at the same time.

Seokjin pulls back to look into his eyes. “I know this might be a little rushed, but… I’m in love with you.”

“Woah, woah, calm down, don’t you think you’re getting a bit carried away?” Taehyung gasps, jerking his head back with a shocked expression. “I’ve only waited, like, forever to hear you say it.”

They laugh into each other’s mouths, kiss a little more just because.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Shh.” He grins, placing his index over Seokjin’s lips. “I know you’ll make it up to me.”

“For the rest of my life.” Seokjin kisses the pad of his finger. “It’s not like I’ve got much time left anyway.”

“Hyung!”

He slaps Seokjin’s bare shoulder and gets repentant kisses on his neck.

“I love you.”

Taehyung bites his lip at the bluntness of his statement, doesn’t ever want to hear any other combination of words. Looking up, he pretends to mull it over before replying.

“I love you too.”

As punishment for his bratty ways, Seokjin’s fingers find his ribs and start a heavy tickle attack. His laughter fills the room, loud and carefree, gradually turns to giggles in between kisses, and soon enough he’s sighing and moaning against Seokjin’s lips all over again.

“So… We’ve been thinking…” Seokjin starts, eyes darting back and forth between Yoongi and Jimin, sitting shoulder to shoulder on his couch.

Taehyung takes a deep breath before speaking, having ignored the empty armchair beside Seokjin’s and chosen his lap as a seat. “And we’ve decided to take a break.”

“I beg your pardon?” Yoongi gasps, eyes almost jumping out of their sockets.

“Oh, God, they’re finishing each other’s sentences already.” Jimin elbows him, teary-eyed.

“You heard him, Yoongi,” Seokjin says. “We want to travel around the world, relax a little bit. I haven’t had a vacation in what? Five years?”

“You never asked for them!”

“Well, he’s asking now,” Taehyung huffs.

“Yes, of course, we totally understand.” Jimin grins before Yoongi can protest further, jumping to his feet to hug them. “Go live your lives, babes. It’s about damn time! The whole country will be waiting for you when you get back.”

Yoongi runs a worried hand over his face, shakes his head in exasperation, but all it takes is one look at how happy the trio before him is to leave all his professional concerns behind and smile.

“Damn, the fans will go batshit crazy.”

They don’t stay around for long once they’ve discussed the details over breakfast, full of offers to reject and schedules to rearrange.

Through the window, Taehyung watches them walk to their cars. Seokjin joins him, hands snaking around his waist, nose buried in his hair. It’s the third day Taehyung spends at his place; after all the showering with Seokjin’s soap and wearing Seokjin’s clothes, he wonders if there’s still any trace of his own scent for Seokjin to smell. There must be, given how he hums and nuzzles his nape with more intent.

“Is it just me, or was that easier than expected?” Taehyung giggles, shrinking in his embrace, shivers running down his spine.

“Not being with you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Seokjin replies on spot, without thought. Taehyung looks at him from over his shoulder, taken aback by the depth of his answer. “Everything will be easy from now on.”

He turns around in Seokjin’s arms to hold him back, hopes the smitten smile on his face and all the love dripping from his eyes is enough, for words fail him. Seokjin kisses the tip of his nose before their lips meet.

Taehyung doesn’t care if all the smiling he’s been doing recently leaves wrinkles on his face. He doesn’t care about not looking a day past twenty anymore. In fact, he can’t wait for all the happiness his future holds, now that Seokjin is in it.