Work Text:
“Here are 30 minutes of easy listening to some slow tracks on 103.5 Dawn FM.”
Voiceover jingle.mp2 — CLICK.
[The number one station to free your soul~ 103.5 Dawn FM~]
Microphone: OFF.
Mixer audio board: STANDBY.
On-air board: ON.
Any notes from the control room? Ah, nothing but a thumbs-up, so that’s good.
Yoongi took off the headphone to the table and leaned back on the sturdy cushioned chair, followed by a loud huff. He shouldn’t be hunching over too close to the mic for hours, but most of the time, bad habits can’t be fixed in one night, and Yoongi was not one of those people who could commit to fixing it anytime soon. His back never felt comfortable on this furniture either but due to his tight financial situation, splurging on a nice one was not a priority.
Thirty-minute break for today. Two hours left until dawn. Yoongi chuckled dryly, realizing the homage of his inner thoughts paid to his radio show’s name.
He used to love this kind of hour; where most people were occupied with dreams in the sheets, he was wide awake, creating fragments of dreams, accompanying the cross-country drivers, the brokenhearted, the insomniac, the identity seekers. He believed in his show’s ability to extend his soul and voice to people, to those who need a space to turn off their minds in the calmest hours before a new day comes by. Despite it all, he’s slowly losing grasp on that passion. Ever since his biggest supporter has pulled away, due to his own actions.
After that much pondering, only a couple of minutes has passed by staring at nothing in particular, spinning himself slowly on the swivel chair. He stopped as he faced his deck again, picking up the only paper laid there— titled ‘RUNDOWN’— as he furrowed his eyebrows in a squint, bringing the paper in very close proximity to his eyes, trying to read the words underneath the slightly blinding fluorescent light. He has actually read that paper many more times than necessary, but there’s nothing else more entertaining to do in the broadcast room, nor on his phone.
He stared into the paper longer, letting his pupils get used to the lighting.
Maybe if I keep staring at the light, my eyes will burn faster.
He couldn’t exactly remember when he started to not enjoy breaks, but it was for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost: Himself. Then his ex-lover. And unexpectedly; his best friend— specifically, his ex-lover’s relationship with his best friend.
But mostly, himself.
It all started with “Hyung, how many times have callers complimented your voice?”
“Taehyung-ah, I’m pretty sure my voice sounds different on the radio, you know? It’ll be modulated and crispy because of the frequencies.”
“It’s hot, hyung.”
To be frank, it wasn’t the first time someone complimented his gruff, deep voice, and he never really took it as a compliment. It was always either a mere observation, a pick-up line, or a way to rile him up (he never liked being complimented). That was until Taehyung himself said it.
Yoongi knew how unabashed Taehyung could get, he had witnessed the man shamelessly flirting with ease, vigor, and a hint of sweetness; anywhere, anytime, and with anyone. With a build that would pass as a runway model, coupled with his soft gaze and his sharp wit, he was a sight to behold, and any person who caught his attention would be swept off their feet—but in all his years of knowing him, Yoongi never would have expected that he would be in that position as well.
For all the others, they would all be enamored by him within a day, yet Taehyung would never pursue any one of them for a serious relationship. None—except for Yoongi.
Just like any other coming-of-age story—both of them, with nothing but uncertainty and dreams bigger than themselves, entertaining the spark between them. The warmth in their chest is kept alive by cheesy compliments, dropped at random times.
“I like what you did with your hair today. Reminds me of a teddy bear.” — or “Hyung, you look like a cat when you think too hard.”
And surely, they upgraded with subtly romantic text messages, picking each other up in different parts of the city, dropping off each other’s favorite food at their workplaces, swapping cassettes each month (because Spotify is overrated, they once agreed). Eventually, a confession was uttered, via phone call—when Yoongi was about to hit the hay and Taehyung was about to fly to Geneva, pursuing his master’s degree in trumpet performance, to find his true musical voice.
Whenever Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, that specific speck of memory would replay in his brain. It’s always that one day—the confession day, as he’d called it. He honed in on it as his first mistake. Perhaps for his lost love, it was the first bloom.
“Will you wait for me for another couple of years, hyung?”
“Of course, why would you ask—”
“I’m afraid I’m asking too much.”
“Nothing about you is too much, Taehyung-ah.”
The conversation on the phone that day was quite abrupt and vague, there was no clear indication of a promise being made between them, but Yoongi had meant it, and kept his promise. Even during their puppy-love days, they hadn’t said the world-famous 3 words to each other, as much as they had contemplated it for far too many months, repeating as many scenarios as they were able to construct.
“Yoongi-ssi… Yoongi-ssi.”
A voice called his name from the intercom, pulling Yoongi away from reliving his memories. He blinked a few times as he hunched over to the mic.
“Yes?"
“There’s a slight change for today’s rundown. We have a new advertisement and since it’s quite sudden, they would like you to read it down in… exactly 3 minutes.”
“Okay, sure. Send the text on the queue.”
His co-worker simply nodded and turned off his mic. Yoongi caught a hint of hesitation in his eyes, lips about to utter something more but decided to hold back. Not the first time, to be honest. Yoongi was aware his demeanor has changed. Couldn’t really blame everyone who knew him for shooting the “I’m sorry for what happened to you” look; as much as he hated it. Why take pity on him when he was the one who burned those bridges down?
Not trying to think too much about it, he did his impromptu advertisement, pulling every ounce of effort left in his body, masked under his deep timbre. Another task to keep his mind from sailing too far to the star he couldn’t reach any longer. Another chance to hold himself together during quiet hours like these.
“Hey, do we have more advertisements?” Yoongi asked his coworker.
“No, all good. You can go back to rest for the remaining minutes.”
Yoongi looked at his phone. Fifteen minutes remaining. One hour and forty-five minutes left until dawn.
He laid his back to the stiff chair once again, heart heavier than before. Strange, and yet it almost feels normal for him. In times like this, waiting for his intermission break to be over, his heart long to see his lover’s starry eyes once more. The sight of soft chocolate irises burning deep and imprinting onto his mind; calmed the nerves graciously through his nocturnal shifts. He could no longer put his lover’s eyes on his phone’s lock screen, another sting he had to endure. If he wished to keep moving forward, he needed to protect his broken heart by closing as many more doors as he could.
When Yoongi tries to push one memory away, another one would come in; it’s almost a cycle. He remembered the way they used to do almost-hold-hands, with just their pinky fingers interlocked with each other. The way Taehyung would ask his friends to request Yoongi’s favorite songs and leave a message on his behalf, with different names.
“Even if I’m asleep, your dawn will be less lonely with my requests.”
The way he would wake Yoongi up, making sure he would eat, even if it was just a couple of spoonfuls of fried rice. The way he would rub the back of Yoongi’s neck, quietly praising him for how cool he was, how patient he was, how he had done a great job that day, all while he thought the older was asleep.
But now his own bed is the worst place to be, as he couldn’t shake his feelings, crawling all over the crevices of his body.
People in his life had yet to know how this lovesick couple crashed and burned. Although most of them never directly ask the couple. If Yoongi could summarize (unwillingly), he would say, “I was too stubborn, and he was the complete opposite.”
“When are you going to let me love you?”
“What was that supposed to be mean?”
“I loved you without asking you for anything. We used to do so many things together without worry, talk about everything. I've been there for you, no matter what. But sometimes it feels like I’m the only one trying to make things work between us.”
Yoongi scoffed. “Between us? Taehyung, what did you think was going on between us, in your opinion? We don’t have anything to prove to each other.”
“Don’t lie to me. We love each other, hyung. And this isn’t about proving shit. I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone! I just want to be with you. I genuinely want to take care of you because I love you.”
“Well, I don’t want to be taken care of,” Yoongi said, ignoring the last part of Taehyung’s statement.
“Hyung—”
“And you should know that I, unfortunately, can’t give you the support you need.”
“Hyung, you being here with me is more than enough, I never asked for anything more.” Taehyung paused, the silence between them heavy as lead. “Is that how it is? That you don’t love me anymore?”
“It’s not— God, you’re making this complicated. Our lives are just too different: our jobs, needs, plans… everything. We hardly even have time for each other. I can’t bring myself to be with you all the time, and I’d sooner cut out my own heart than stop you from reaching your dreams. I’m sorry.”
Taehyung looked as if he were torn open. “Hyung, please…”
Yoongi practically heard his love wilting, losing grasp of the hope for whatever they had between them, a hope that had been fostered for a long time. What exactly was he so worried about? Yoongi never found out what it was that made him so unsure and made him push everything about Taehyung away. Taehyung never asked Yoongi to drop everything and come over to comfort him when he was crying. He never expected Yoongi to spend hundreds of dollars to travel and watch his performances because he knew how money was tight. The younger never put any expectations on him, and Yoongi burnt everything down with his own false assumptions.
Well, looks like this day is as dreadful as any other day. Yoongi tapped fingers on his cheeks a couple of times before he slipped back into his mask, being the voice for the sleepless listeners, chasing a brand-new day with new hope, no matter how dreadful life could be. Both of his hands danced between the buttons of the sound system, the keyboard, and the hanging microphone. He noticed how his gruff voice was saving him, once again, from drowning in the almost inevitable whimper after a huge flash-flood of memories about Taehyung.
Just seven minutes left until dawn.
Seven minutes left until I can leave.
“Alright, we have one last slot before we wrap up, and it looks like we already have a caller on the queue. Hello?”
“Hello.”
Yoongi’s heart dropped, followed by a sudden tightness in his throat. He couldn’t waste a second to process whether that voice belonged to exactly who he thought, so he dryly coughed, his hand moving to soothe his chest. Hopefully, no one really took notice, although his cough wouldn’t have sounded pleasing for the listeners.
“So, what song would you like to request?”
“I’d love… Less Than Zero by The Weeknd.”
Yoongi is certain. That’s Namjoon.
“Who do you wish to dedicate the song to? And what’s the message going to be?”
“Oh, I’d like to dedicate this to my fiancé—”
Fiancé.
“It’s our favorite song, and we used to listen to it together on our road trips—”
Our favorite.
Road trips.
Namjoon’s soft chuckle felt like spears pushing deep into Yoongi's eardrums, right after he heard a glimpse of a love life he would never have with Taehyung. His best friend, once, lived the dream he used to have, and with his lost love. If the biggest tragedy in his life hadn’t been written, this would take the spot.
“Hey, Taehyung. May our love stay in motion as we move forward to our path together. Happy anniversary, baby. I love you endlessly, I’ll be back home soon.”
There’s no time to think, but honestly, fuck this.
“Thank you for calling. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”
Fuck. Yoongi, why the fuck did you say that? Just end the call, you’re in the middle of the fucking show you —
“I hope you’ve been doing well, Yoongi-ssi. Love your show, keep up the hard work.”
Yoongi-ssi. The last time Namjoon called me was 10 years ago. Guess he left too.
“Thank you. Have a great day.”
— CLICK.
If he could just break down in tears, he would. He never felt so exposed in such a constrained space. It felt like the last nail sealing the box, suffocating his last hope in the wake.
After that unexpected call, Yoongi quickly clicked the requested song and he felt everything had overflowed to the surface. All the love, mistakes, betrayal, and separation flooded the floor. As much as he would like to deny Namjoon’s declaration of love, he couldn’t hold on to the barrier he had built— now crumbling. He wouldn’t dare to unpack everything that has been set in stone with his best friend, the man who encouraged him to initiate conversations with Taehyung, the harbor of his tired body whenever he was uncertain of himself, and all the best titles you would’ve imagined.
“Hyung, you’re being too hard on Taehyung . If he still has the passion to move forward, why would you add more doubt? You should be there for him.”
“I was just being honest.”
”He knows you’re honest, and he always wants that from you, that’s why he loves you. But you should know that support is the most important.”
Yoongi didn’t do anything to fix it until everything had reached an end he feared the most— and that remains his biggest sin. If there was another chance for him, he’d drive as fast as he could. He desired to celebrate the only person he could love. What a fucking lie it was; when he thought his own love had burnt out, while the love from the one who stood beside him didn’t.
He didn’t reciprocate, and it took a toll on Taehyung’s love— until it left him altogether. Taehyung took the earliest flight back to Geneva; with his trumpet, blurry future, brokenhearted, alone. As for Yoongi, he stayed in motion, lonelier than ever.
The last time he saw his love was on the poster of an opera show with Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, Kim Taehyung part of it. A picture of him standing with a world-renowned principal conductor was sent to him by Namjoon. It was the first static he was not a part of, and it continued still.
Clearly, you’ve made up your mind, embracing another love for you while pieces of mine are still attached to you. I guess I’m out of time to take it all back. What’s mine is eternally yours, while you’re not mine any longer.
— Fuck, stop this already. You have a job to do.
That painful song has ended and his show was already on its end, it’s time for the last segment; a closing thought for listeners who have listened to him for the past four hours. Yoongi, the man who’s always prepared with thought-provoking statements, was left alone back in the void of the wounds he thought he had mended. This time, he let his heart run its course. Whatever he would say, he could deal with it at a later time. Or never speak about it again.
Microphone: ON.
“ You’re tuned to Dawn FM , and we have heard tunes, our dear callers, and topics that we’ve discussed. Now sit back and unpack with the closing thought as we wait for a new day to rise upon us—”
Wish you were still here, waiting for me.
“So here it is— Take your time to look back on the things you thought you owned, moments you thought you owned with all your might, moments when your smile was bright.”
Taehyung, I miss you. Terribly.
“Among those moments, you also have rather unpleasant ones. Moments that wake you up, a dissonant chord you were strumming, that wasn’t in tune with the song life was humming. ”
Loving you, holding you, disappointing you, losing you—
“Perhaps when you can’t help letting the unpleasant ones in, it might feel as if pain’s living on where your body’s long gone, and your phantom regret hasn’t let it go yet. ”
Hearing Namjoon’s voice declaring a love that I could’ve had, with you, is something that I don’t deserve, but I know it should happen. And it happened for the better good.
“And when you have given everything to find peace or forgiveness, sometimes you’re out of time, and there’s nothing but space in between your sorrow. ”
Will you forgive me, will you be okay if I still love you, although I have failed to show it, failed to make you stay?
“When pain is still alive in you, you have to wait when you’re not all there yet. ”
Taehyung-ah, forgive me.
“When your broken heart’s heavy, the time will move forward unforgivingly, but it’ll never stop as you are still here. I hope you’ll find your way in the tide of time, you’ll be lighter than air . And that’s the closing thought for today. Thank you to everyone who listened and tagged along with me. Dawn FM will be back tomorrow at the same time. My name is Yoongi, it’s been a pleasure to be your host.”
Taehyung-ah, I love you.
As the navy sky made way for the peaking of the outer circle of the sun, there’s nothing else Yoongi would rather do than to drown himself further in-between static noise, the cold-bearing queue of listeners who have brought messages to him— the involuntary, adored, yet lonely messenger— and broadcast it to the world.
Voiceover jingle.mp2 — CLICK.
[The number one station to free your soul~ 103.5 Dawn FM~]
Microphone: OFF.
Mixer audio board: OFF.
On-air board: OFF.
Just a little longer— he hoped —until each one of his teardrops turned to gasoline, doused him, with matches of his love that still burn bright, taking every single piece of him.
Burning in the dawn.