Chapter Text
Life made such a conspiracy,
Every wish I ever made came alive out of its fantasy.
Pleaded a prayer which somehow reached you,
Oh Sustainer
How you heard even through my silence,
Oh Sustainer.
Kim Taehyung was always known to be passionate. A general word associated each time he picked up a mere interest in a passing hobby.
If his lips quirked softly and his eyes shut while he played the piano, his mother would let out a he's so passionate about it proudly to her employer, who politely nodded along. He was just grateful she let him play their beautiful instrument, not a lot of people let their cook's son touch such prestigious items.
His friends would rumble out praises loud, for each clean goal and every amazing play performance. How he'd surpass Messi if he keeps it up, how he's so energetic, so zealous about the game.
He picked up a few freestyle steps from his friend Hoseok, his batchmates would awe and cheer whenever they practised together or performed for a fest.
It never was clear why though. Taehyung doesn't remember ever speaking about his passions. He never once said that he's hooked to the exhilaration of soccer, or that he can see himself in the notes his fingers let float into the air. His heartbeat doesn't deafen him from dancing, they don't cloud his each and every passing thought.
Taehyung could easily live without them. Taehyung could give them up in the next minute if he wanted to, if he got bored in the slightest.
He'll be such a musician when he grows up, I'm telling you Taehee.
Bro you ought to try out for the school team, you could even represent the country!
Wow Taehyung-ah, you've even beat me in this part, how did you do these steps?
Why this bizarre assumption? Why do they venture into a territory which Taehyung himself is yet to figure out?
It's an avoided subject in his mind, a demarcation. Or maybe it's just a wall of dead end. Kim Taehyung has no passions, he has no dreams.
They were pass times, occupancies which kept him distracted long enough, well enough so he doesn't question the paradoxical void. It was not a void though, was it? He didn't know. He thinks it was just the knowledge that there needs to be an existence of something in him, which isn't.
It was bereftness from the lack of passion that made Taehyung's head go down the spiral which almost every human goes through. Doubt, insecurity, alienation, anxiety.
Listening to Hoseok ramble about his new song choreo makes him question why he doesn't have anything to ramble about with that shiny glint in his eyes. His mom teaches him her recipes with the same expression in her eyes, the same fervour in her voice.
Taehyung wants that too. No, life wasn't boring or meaningless for him. He wasn't despaired, he smiled wide and laughed loud and enjoyed his days being unapologetically himself and yet he was afraid somewhere deep within. People don't want to live without the entire compilation of life experiences, the wonders. Just like how people yearn for love after watching and reading about its greatness, its delicacy. Its savagery and its salvation.
He didn't know love, he didn't know passion nor the intense buzz of his nerves, the overridden feeling of his thoughts going haywire until he saw the boy who brought to him his long unknown void fill, his very own obsession.
High school was a blur through each day. A kick of a single moment which extinguishes the minute he steps away from that surrounding. He doesn't remember Hoseok's showcases, he doesn't register Jimin's insistence on a pride celebration weekend.
What he does remember is a sharp HD focused memory in his brain after which everything was vivid in his mind. Every small detail in his life.
Almost like it had been out of it dazedly all this time and the sudden clarity made every nerve ending thrum vivaciously.
Because Min Yoongi joined his class in 12th grade.
A single nudge from Hoseok beside him, a low whispered "look that's Min Yoongi, he's new. His dad owns a law firm."
Maybe Taehyung should have taken a deep breath before following Hoseok's gesture. He definitely should have steadied himself with titanium nerves before looking up towards the door. But alas, life never threw renaissance-level changes with a warning sign.
His eyes had never seen snow in disguise of skin, never witnessed petals impersonating lips. Onyx gaze which didn't stay long on anyone surrounded by the reflection of opal shining irises. Hair the same cascading colours as his irises, translucent milky hands with blue rivulets of veins so clearly visible. The same hands which came up and tucked a stray raven lock behind his ear absently.
Taehyung's eyes never saw another person. They couldn't even if he tried to because the transfixation overpowered every other sense.
The boy didn't speak to anyone, kept to himself, walked with hunched shoulders yet a firm gait that spoke volumes of his tenacious, sober nature. It kept the meddling and the eager away, and it drew Taehyung in like Icarus to the sun.
People did what they always have been doing, assumed.
"He only talks to that student council head Kim Namjoon! I swear these silver spooned ones are always arrogant."
"You see how he walks? His nose in the air always. Fucking blue bloods."
"He keeps monopolising the piano in the music room during break time, does he think he's entitled to it all the time?"
Taehyung knows how beautifully he plays, he sees those fingers caress keys and imagines those soft cold pads of fingers on his face. Raindrops which never splash but rather soothe. He hopes one day they could sit beside each other, hands bumping and grazing as they play some corny show theme together.
Hoseok found him peering in through the music room windows every time, nose smushed on the cool glass and eyes unwavering. He called him a creep and dragged him for lunch.
Taehyung kept turning his head back towards the window, to the boy through the window. It was a daily mission of sorts now, unraveling any activity Yoongi does. The other day he saw Yoongi trying to remove one of the friendship bands some eager social classmate had tied on his wrist, his lips slowly curving out in a pout as he tried to remove the knots in vain, then have up exasperatedly in a huffing flail of his arms. Taehyung thinks he might have been staring open-mouthed and heart-eyed for too long after that.
Brown irises followed pale skin and the green-cream coloured uniform everywhere they went. Nerves electrified when pink lips moved to speak in a low, slurred voice. Each raspy lisp a jolt.
One day Jimin had come bouncing, bearing precious news such that Taehyung could declare him the harbinger of harmony.
"You won't believe what happened, Min Yoongi came up to me in the cafeteria and enquired if he could sign up for preparations for the pride celebration."
Taehyung couldn't believe his vicious luck that day. He couldn't curse himself enough for not sitting with his friends on the one day when he could have seen Yoongi up close, heard him talk and acknowledge him, made his existence definite in the other's eyes. Why did he go rehearse for the upcoming Macbeth play instead of grasping the very golden chance to meet Yoongi finally? It was a clear chance to cross the glass barrier, the high mountain of social and distant difference. To touch an aurora.
And still, Jimin's gleaming eyes and implicating look had made his brain redefine its focus. Min Yoongi and the Pride celebration.
"Is–is he?"
"Gay as fuck yeah!! Tried to casually ask him but ugh you know I can't do casual. He's so sweet though, he smiled and nodded, damn is he cute. Eeeek! Taehyungie you've got a chance now! Go get him Tiger!"
A chance lost, a bigger chance gained.
He would have argued with Jimin on his use of the compliment for the other boy. 'Cute' was such a dilute word, a general umbrella which encompassed even inanimate things like plushies and clothes to dogs and kittens. His muse was nothing less than enchanting .
"Your muse? You don't even paint Tae. Jesus you gave up acting for plays because of that one time you missed meeting him!"
"Sounds like more of an anti-muse." Taehyung raises a sharp, warning eyebrow at Hoseok's snort, making the latter cough and continue solving his homework.
"He's not just my muse, he's a universal muse. I think people can't look at him without getting inspired to do something. And he is my muse, he makes me compose my dreams."
His friends said he was creepy for staring at the raven haired all the time. That cycling behind his Mercedes after school only to see him sigh and smile softly as he entered his almost-mansion was beyond stalker-ish. Looking at him from across the class to the front seat religiously was stupid.
Taehyung didn't really care for societal-certified behaviour norms because the void, the blank space in him was somehow constructing a new infrastructure which looked very similar to a certain boy with pink cheeks, and a wide smile which out to display even pinker gums.
The image of Yoongi smiling wide, though it was at Jimin's expense when he tripped and took down a whole hanged streamer in the corridor, was enough to liven Taehyung through five lifetimes. Because Taehyung learnt the meaning of infatuation that day.
The vision resolution of his days increased by thousands, surroundings which sparkled at every memory of the smile. The void was a gallery of pictures of him. Every detail, scent and voice stored oh so carefully.
Min Yoongi wasn't a blur but a cool pleasant breeze which left tingles on his skin long after it had passed. However, Min Yoongi was also a heart clawing spincer and an ice shard through his chest.
Because the day he faced Yoongi exchanging a wide eyed, breathless greeting to an oblivious, polite, delicate face—Taehyung realised that he was in too deep.
"We haven't spoken before right? I saw you in the play, it was brilliant."
No words came out, the syllables of brilliant singing in his brain space which managed his gallery.
"Thank you, I had special attachment to the play so I guess I thrived. But I'm not doing them anymore."
Taehyung wanted to slap himself, with a spiked bat, hard. Because Min Yoongi's eyes dulled for a second, his lips curved downwards in a frown. All because of him, because he won't do stupid plays which Yoongi enjoyed.
"Oh well that's unfortunate for me. You do make a terrific actor Taehyung. I'd thought whoever played Macbeth would be lacking despite everything. But the way you put on with the lost gaze, the sheer madness, the horror..I- I haven't seen anyone act like that, really."
It didn't sound expectant and pushy like with everyone else. He wasn't trying to define Taehyung, or label him. It sounded like simple, honest praise. Not more, not less. Not a single judgement or scrutiny in his demeanor. Somewhere in his mind, some rigid, clenched part began to relax. A deep rooted fear began to dissipate for that moment and Taehyung could feel his shoulders sag from the immense relief.
He knew he could trust himself to choose the right person, Min Yoongi would accept him in any and every way. A heavy instinct said so, one which didn't exist before the appearance of his muse but now Taehyung relied on it in every way.
And then Yoongi took his left hand into both of his, squeezing them between both of his in a convincing, praising gesture. Cold, soft hands and yet his nerves were on fire. His thoughts must resemble that of the top of boiling water–effervescent beyond understanding.
Taehyung would play a bagpipe if it made Yoongi smile like that at him. If he held his hands even for just a second. Curved, slant eyes blinked at him for a while as Taehyung stood without responding. Then he tried to smile(shakily) and thanked him again. The hands retracted.
"If I act in a play another time, would you come watch?"
"Sure! If you bring such heavy characters to life so amazingly, i can't wait to see more. I never imagined Macbeth as handsome, always thought he would have a twisted older evil look somehow. But I think I liked your version better. Dorian Grey vibes of sinister beauty." He makes out a teasing tone, but interprets nothing further than—
"Are you calling me handsome?" A chuckle, amused eyes.
"Are you blind to the list of girls in our class half in love with you? The girls beside my desk write wonderful ballads if you want to hear praise that badly." A lopsided grin and Taehyung realises, sinkingly, that he's in love.
Not just a teenage fickle romance which would burn bright and then extinguish in a year .
No, Taehyung finds himself filled with Yoongi's thoughts as a default in his subconscious. Like Yoongi is someone part of his routine life. A glance, a short conversation about upcoming exams, a teasing when he eats and spills food over his mouth .
Taehyung retraces his steps all the way back to the very first sight of Yoongi. What about him? Was it the appearance? Those can be deceptive. Was it the detached way he considered everyone else? Yoongi didn't believe in societal appropriate behaviour either, but he also didn't indulge in playing nice.
He wasn't overly benevolent to everyone like some happy go lucky force people tend to be towards others, someone which Taehyung realised he himself was. Yoongi didn't sugar coat truth, didn't lie or go out of his way to make everyone happy. He kept to himself, live and let live a mantra taken very literally by him.
In fact, Yoongi was selfish in a way Taehyung understood. He lived for himself, he spoke only when he had opinions to put out and he never believed in the could be. He was simple and straightforward, someone Taehyung felt he could trust to always show his true face.
But if another important discovery which contributes to the sharp increase in Taehyung's infatuation, it would be the absolutely divine food cooked by Yoongi's amazing hands.
The boy brought delicious home cooked food for lunch time on every Monday. Once the others got a taste of it, poor Yoongi had to start bringing three separate lunch boxes to suffice all of them. Yet Taehyung didn't eat from the other two boxes, he insisted on eating from Yoongi's own box, making the latter feed him the first bite.
The routine came out of nowhere. Just the first day when Yoongi brought out his lunch box, Taehyung had automatically leaned closer to get a whiff of the mouth watering gejang.
"Hyung oh my god, what is that?" Jimin was almost out of his seat and ready to pounce at the rice and marinated crab roe mix.
"Ah my grandma taught me how to make ganjang gejang over the vacation so…" Yoongi scoops up some and puts it on Jimin's lunch plate which is immediately attacked by Hoseok.
Taehyung doesn't know what came over him, it must be the fondness from the way Yoongi was laughing at the other two—that he nudges Yoongi and opens his mouth in a gesture to feed him a bite.
But Yoongi doesn't make a big deal out of it, just smiles and brings his spoon up to Taehyung's lips.
And from then on, every Monday, Taehyung had insisted on being fed the first bite of food of the day from Yoongi. The only reason why someone would anticipate the usually dreaded start of the week. He didn't have breakfast in the morning, he just couldn't. He wanted the week to begin with Yoongi feeding him, which somehow became a necessity. If Yoongi was absent on a Monday, then the day's meals went uneaten by him.
The other's didn't know that, except Jimin. Somehow Jimin always ended up knowing it all. He gave Taehyung a long lecture, which went completely unheard by the latter. Jimin couldn't understand the significance of it, the scraps of affection Taehyung longed for—Monday was the highest extent he had managed, and it meant the world to him. Losing that was a personal failure, an effect of which was the loss of appetite for the day.
Jimin calls it a psychological issue, Taehyung calls it being in love.
Yoongi didn't believe in hierarchies and social classes at all, his rumoured arrogance in truth only his reclusive and driven nature. He didn't play mind games to understand people, took what he needed and cared for people who were close to him. Yoongi was... reality , Taehyung realised. A beautiful tether of stability who worked hard for things important to him and didn't look back on the others.
Taehyung often imagines how Yoongi would love. He believes it would require a soul stirring bond and a stubborn, tenacious human to make Min Yoongi theirs. A person whom Yoongi could fall on for utter comfort and support because holding himself up all this time would be exhausting. He'd need loyalty close to devotion, forever a reassurance that their person would always be there for him, no matter what.
"I think, you deserve a partner who you can call if you need a body buried, murder scene cleaned and a tight hug right after which takes away the fear."
Jimin chuckles from across the table at Yoongi's words. Namjoon is still contemplating the morality of it and Hoseok seems to be laughing his lungs out. Taehyung though, seems to be listening with all his attention, eyes simultaneously roaming over Yoongi's thoughtful face in appreciation.
"Yoongi-yah, why'd you have to make love sound so dark? Why do I have to murder someone only to decide on a boyfriend?"
"It's hypothetical obviously, but the basic meaning remains—you love someone only when you trust them not to leave even when you've fucked up in the worst ways and they love you despite it."
"That sounds suffocating and toxic, to make love binding like that." Namjoon finally speaks up, Jimin nodding in agreement as they wait for Yoongi to refute but are surprised when Taehyung is the one answering.
"Love runs deep, not necessarily clean. You don't choose it like you choose floor cleaner."
The rest laugh, but Yoongi looks at Taehyung with a strange confounding expression.
Yoongi was smart; witty in a way Taehyung found awesome and sexy. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't keep up with Yoongi, but then on few occasions he felt like Yoongi's words resonated and clicked with him too well.
Yoongi had a dream, he came to know. He wanted to become a doctor–neurologist. Taehyung asked him how he was so sure about it. There was no glint in his eyes, but there was a confidence, certainty about his choice.
"Well helping people is a bonus, but I think I would like finding answers to diagnosis and solving them. Doctors aren't all about patients you know? They're about the diseases too. A whole different set of symptoms lie ahead, you're telling me curiosity means nothing to you?"
Well if curiosity meant wondering how Yoongi moaned and kissed and spoke words of love, then yes it might mean a lot to Taehyung. But no, he had no scientific temper towards disfunctioning nerves. His own were messed up from the past year.
A month before finals, Taehyung had come to realise he still hasn't fixed on what his passion was but some part of him kept whispering Yoongi's name in hushed, tender, sultry whispers.
His days began with his smiles and resonating " Hi Tae" whenever they crossed paths, nights ended with his images as he jerked off to every vision of Yoongi biting his lips or his seductive(at least for him) hip movements as he danced in tight jeans and a shredded yellow-red sweater during the pride celebration, his slight citrusy body wash scent making him heady even in Taehyung's dreams.
His activities were on Taehyung's calendar. They were not very close friends and yet Yoongi was his entire world. His subconsciousness, his unconsciousness and every thought in between.
And that's how Taehyung found his passion in one Min Yoongi.
Slowly, slowly dreams burned,
Wishes pressed so deep in my heart, they suffocated.
Turned into dust
they somehow reached you,
Oh Sustainer.
And now I have scratched through the limits of madness,
Oh Sustainer.
After the last exam of their finals, Taehyung feels like his nerves might combust from the ignition of sitting proximal to Yoongi each day and not getting to touch him the way he's always yearning to. He, who is human with flaws and so real–out of reach in a way that Taehyung just cannot confirm his fantasies to reality.
Just once he would like to hold his hand tight, his body closer than just their sides brushing. To get high on that scent of his, kiss the petal lips into the brightest shade of dripping red.
Jimin had had enough of Taehyung's antics, he said it was time to come out of his haze and think about his future. They had started putting out college applications while Taehyung had no clue what to choose, though he wasn't worried. He'd just end up wherever Yoongi goes.
And that's when Jimin snapped, saying he couldn't just follow Yoongi every where. That it was time to grow up and out of this phase of whatever it was. That he couldn't make someone the axis he revolves around when that someone doesn't even notice his clear admiration.
And that was Taehyung's final straw. As the exam got over, students exiting the rooms and jumping wildly around. Soon everyone dispersed to finally let out that almost-forever awaited relief, plans already made and carried out. Taehyung watches his friends leave as they discuss their last paper at the gate. They hugged, promised to meet tomorrow for their post exam celebration at the mall. Then Namjoon was gone with his driver, Jimin and Hoseok hurrying to catch their bus and his muse left standing in silence beside him. A shiver runs through Yoongi, the last ripples of winter. He always gets cold easily.
Taehyung takes off his school blazer, drapes it over Yoongi's sweater clad shoulders properly. Startled, Yoongi moves to protest and return it with the typical social etiquette but Taehyung doesn't like that.
"You know I won't take it back, nor do you want to pull it off and I know that so keep it on. You're cold, I'm fine." Taehyung doesn't speak further, just has his arms crossed over his chest and face impassive yet eyes soft. This blantance was something he had learned from Yoongi–that if there's something to say, then speak up as it is.
Yoongi huffs but pulls the blazer closer, relaxing slightly in the warmth of it left from the body of the previous wearer. They wait like that, for Yoongi's driver to arrive as the sky turns a tender orange, dusk around the corner.
Something about the mood stirs the bubbling feeling of emotions in Taehyung as he keeps looking at the other, wind fluttering the raven locks slowly and eyes the ever glinting sharp opal. The roundness of his face, the loveliness of dark brows and small nose, lips against snow skin. Taehyung feels his sight blur from the onset of sudden tears. He quickly rubs his eyes, dismissing them. He can't afford to lose the sight in front of him.
But Yoongi notices the gesture, like he suspects he notices all of Taehyung's strange behaviours. There's no way he doesn't, hasn't noticed a diligent cycler following him or eyes on him whenever he's in school. Taehyung wonders if Yoongi minds it, he hasn't addressed him with his behaviour yet so Taehyung has no incentive to stop with his indulgence.
"You okay? The wind's too harsh isn't it?" Yoongi walks closer to him, standing right in front of him as a barrier apparently. Which doesn't fullfil its motive because he's quite a few inches shorter and the wind still stings Taehyung's face.
But all the wind, hurricanes and tornados couldn't keep Taehyung from admiring his muse.
He doesn't register when his hand comes and cups the other's flushed cheeks, pink from the cold, startling pinker from his warm touch.
"You're…" he tucks a stray flapping lock and tucks it behind Yoongi's ear, who looks up at him with a waiting, almost suddenly anxious gaze. He looks scared, why is he scared?
Then it dawns on Taehyung.
"You know."
Yoongi looks down, Taehyung's hands drop from where they were caressing his cheek with his thumb. He nods slowly.
"You didn't intend to hide them in the first place."
"I didn't intend to disclose them yet either. The time never felt right.." Or maybe it always felt right, and indecisiveness clouded him in those moments. The fear of rejection wasn't very potent over his overwhelming feelings for the other, because he will never stop the love and pursuit, it wasn't even an option.
Yoongi takes a breath in, then looks straight into Taehyung's eyes. An guish...despair too?
Taehyung doesn't mind, rather he revels in the closeness, the radiant soft beauty of his muse. How his cheeks glisten from the sun, onyx eyes now dark brown pools of honey. Even if he's turned down now, how will he ever move on from this? One of God's masterpieces sculpted just so fittingly for him. Taehyung steps closer to him, one hand delicately framing his right cheek. Finger tips hovering at the side of his eyelash.
"I love you, Yoongi. God I'm absolutely crazy about you." He breathes just as Yoongi's breath hitches.
They stand there for a moment, the silence not at all tense but rather so peaceful. They could almost pretend it's a regular day, or not. Maybe it's just the wind freezing their rapid heartbeat.
"You're not, this isn't just love." Yoongi slowly murmurs, to not break the perfect serenity. Not yet.
"Really? Then what is it?" Taehyung doesn't mind Yoongi's words, because they're true. He knows, whatever Yoongi's about to say is all true.
"You're obsessed. You're building your life around mine... you know I've seen you. I've talked to Jimin too. This...this isn't right Taehyung, it isn't healthy." Yoongi's words aren't pitying, they aren't condescending. They are concerned, conflicted too if Taehyung isn't reading too much into it. And that's all he needs. The infinitesimal hint of requital.
"Does it bother you?" Taehyung simply asks, ignoring everything else–logic, esteem and morals be damned. Yoongi steps back from his touch, a shiver running through him that isn't due to the cold.
He blinks at him, swallows once. Conflict. Then takes a deep breath, eyes flickering away from him towards the road. They return, steely, to meet his own as he nods. Hesitance , avoidance.
"You star in my dreams. You are my dream and I'm not giving you up. Not now and not ever." Taehyung speaks in a definite tone, with resolved eyes and a clear expression. "You aren't someone I can ever forget for even a second. You're my passion Yoongi and I've only just found you."
His gaze softens, pleading to just let him love Yoongi.
"I want to sit by you when you play the piano and I want to play Forrest Gump's theme for you. Will you cry again just from that?" He teases lightheartedly, Yoongi letting out a dry chuckle and swatting at his hands. Then he becomes silent, and gazes at Taehyung with a vulnerable, desolate face.
"Tae i can't, you.. we're friends. You know how I am, I've lived for myself and I would continue to. I don't want this heavy responsibility of having someone love me like that. You're giving your glass soul in my hand to take care of and cherish, while it would dangle in my palms each day. I can't live with the fear that i will stumble and drop it someday. I can't break you Tae. You can't make someone your whole world, you can't live solely dependent on someone."
Taehyung moves closer again, this time gently holding Yoongi's elbow, pale hands holding on to his own arm in return.
"But I want to. I'm not asking for anything else Yoongi. Just be by my side, like all this time. That's all I'm asking for. I'd get down on my knees if you just let me stay ."
"What about your future? You can't throw that away like this. It would turn to regret and regret turns to resentment. You'll resent me Tae, sooner or later." Yoongi's expression is sad, lips pressed, its corners downturned and the sparkle of his eyes dulled.
Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head.
"You could drive a knife across my face and I'd still marvel how badass you look with a blade in hand. Resentment and regret is when faced with decisions. These feelings, they leave no space for decisions."
"You are here—" he points to his chest, "and here," to the side of his temple. "—And I won't let you leave."
"I'll become someone who you look at and can't help but be proud of, someone even your dad will acclaim. And then one day see me and wonder how greatly this obsession for you changed my life."
Yoongi looks at him for a long time, understanding, considering. Then he sighs and slowly moves to embrace him, putting his arms around Taehyung's waist and letting his head rest lightly on his shoulder. This isn't reciprocation yet, Taehyung knows. This is just the concession to his wish, which is more than Taehyung had hoped to achieve with his confession. He'd expected silence, hostility, worse a restraining order. But Yoongi is smart, he understands, he cares. And maybe he loves too.
So Taehyung takes his scraps, puts his arms around Yoongi's shoulders and pulls him closer. Nuzzles closer to press a kiss to the top of his hair. He always smells like citrus, even his shampoo is lemony.
Then Yoongi pulls away again, just as a car pulls up in front of the gate.
He looks into Taehyung's eyes, sharp onyx again in the shadow.
"Don't get hurt." He whispers.
"Don't leave me." Taehyung grins, eliciting a small smile out of the other. Just a tiny lift in the corner of his lips. It would sustain Taehyung for the week. Then Yoongi is gone, the Mercedes leaving behind a trail of dust which seems to mix with the incinerated dust of his happiness. The rejection had formed a dull ache in his chest but he ignores that, no use dwelling in the failure of his first attempt.
Then more thoughts invade his mind. High school's over, Yoongi will go to a medical school and get a degree. Become a doctor.
What will Taehyung do? Where does he go from this gate now?
He spends the night tossing and turning in bed, searches up every possible career choice. Nurse? Dentistry? Easiest way to enter a medical school and get a degree but does he want to be a dentist? Min Hyunbin won't praise a dentist.
He doesn't want to become a doctor and he knows he'll suck at it. He wants to become someone Yoongi can't help but admire. What is his worth to even compare to someone like him?
His dad owns a hardware shop, his mom's a house cook and he's never worked a day in his life.
What could Min Yoongi even see in him when there's nothing about him to fall in love with?
All these thoughts conjugate and by morning Taehyung has a headache. But swimming through all this, a sudden memory pops up—finally an answer.
"I saw you in the play, it was brilliant."
"You do make a terrific actor Taehyung."
"If you bring such heavy characters to life so amazingly, I can't wait to see more."
And that was settled then. Taehyung smiles dopily to himself, then goes to sleep.