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Be there.
The period at the end of the message makes Seokjin gulp. It is, by no means, a new occurrence; his father always texts him using formal language. Always a professional, always the untouchable businessman. Most of his sentences addressing his son are in the imperative mode: do this, don't forget that, blah, blah, blah.
Seokjin wonders if his father can spot the imperative sentence, the same one every time, boiling in his eyes whenever he's ordered around like a puppet. Fuck off.
Probably not. Or probably yes, and he just doesn't care.
"Fuck off," he groans, smashing the start button on his car dashboard. The engine rumbles to life softly, another annoying display of his father's prowess. Everything around him is a reminder of how rich he is, the powerful CEO of South Korea's biggest record label. It's all around Seokjin. Billboards on the road as he endures the Friday morning traffic, showcasing the newest idol group, every member whitewashed and airbrushed. He can't deny their beauty even without makeup, he's seen them all in person, yet they all look just as bland and painfully alike in these promotional pictures and MVs.
He sighs, waiting on another red light, eyes lost in one of the girls' empty smile. Whatever happened to authenticity? Spontaneity?
His father's voice rings in his ears to answer for him, preceded by a dry chuckle. Money happened. How silly of him to ever lose sight of what truly matters.
Turning on the radio brings no solace. Their groups take up more than half of the entire radio play, high-pitched voices loaded with autotune, shallow lyrics about shallow romance if he's lucky, random oohs and aahs and some random idol's name on repeat throughout the chorus if he's not. Seokjin only bothers turning on the radio when driving with his father, not only because it's his rule to always ensure their artists are getting their deserved (read: paid) plays, but also to fill in the awkward silence whenever it's just the two of them.
His destination comes into view and he's forced to unclench his jaw. He should at the very least pretend being here isn't the last thing he'd like to be doing. The car takes a right turn and climbs up the sidewalk; he drives to a vacant spot among the other vehicles, notices quite a lot of them already, and it's still the first hour of the event—a free car wash by the new girl group members in exchange for streams for their first single. Not his father's noblest idea, to be honest, but he never asks for Seokjin's opinion anyway. If he did, Seokjin would rather lie through his teeth and support the whole shitshow than let his father think, even if for a second, that his only son doesn't find the idea of girls in wet clothes rubbing themselves on cars—or the idea of girls in general—at all alluring.
He's barely killed the engine when a sugary voice comes through the open slit of the car window.
"Oppa!"
His eyelid twitches, the usual collateral damage when he forces himself to avoid flinching. A gallant smile shapes up his lips, his gaze goes up and down the girl's almost bare torso, save for a neon yellow bikini top to match the bright purple hair cascading down to her waist. Her smile is the only genuine thing about her, yet the motivation behind it never fails to send a shiver down his spine.
"Such a beautiful car, oppa." She tilts her head to the side, using her best toddler intonation. "Just like the owner."
They're all yours, his father's intrusive voice echoes in the walls of his mind again. Just make sure to cover your tracks.
Seokjin's stomach backflips. Had he eaten breakfast, it would be rehearsing a comeback right about now.
"Thanks, Boo." He winks. Hates that stupid stage name. Hates himself and his inability to break character. How hypocritical of him to despise her attitude in secret when he's as much of a hollow shell as her. "Will you get it squeaky clean for oppa?"
Boo nods enthusiastically, curls bouncing around her head. She waves at some other girls, and they bring hoses, sponges and buckets to wash his car. A whole circus around him, surely orchestrated by his omnipotent father. He can almost hear the malice in his old voice. Ladies, make sure my boy gets special treatment. Bile climbs up his throat. He swallows it.
Seokjin flips the switch of his consciousness, eyes on autopilot, roaming the scantily clad women pushing themselves against his car, propping themselves on the hood to scrub and rinse the windshield. Before he can turn off his brain and succumb to the emptiness entirely, a taller frame, topped by short brown hair among the crowd of unnatural colors gets his attention. The girly giggles around him fade to nothingness, the air around him in the closed car gets too heavy, wraps him in humid, oppressive heat.
It's a boy. Alive and breathing, smile vivid in the turmoil of plastic, shaking his head to get rid of the water droplets one of the girls shoots his way. The others bat their eyelashes at him as he walks by, flip their hair and arch their backs. For once, Seokjin doesn't judge them.
He's beautiful. Gorgeous. Dazzling. His laugh, the way he throws his head back and scrunches his nose, pearly teeth on display in a boxy grin that could light up all of Seoul—no, the whole world... Seokjin catches himself gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white and clammy palms. His heart craves freedom, squeezes his lungs and he's gasping in seconds, mind swimming in all the bright colors and the useless cacophony permeated by the girl group song blasting from the speakers. It's all blurry and muffled now. Seokjin focuses on that one boy sauntering around, too far for his liking. The part of his mind he never dares to use in public, too dangerous for the name he carries, too sacred to risk exposing, wonders how close would be close enough.
Heat floods his chest and rushes up to his neck, bathes his cheeks. One glance at the rearview mirror shows his flaming ears and slightly engorged lips, red and slick with spit despite him not remembering having licked or bitten the bottom one. It's ridiculous, how attracted he is to that one innocent-looking boy, with his plain white shirt and denim shorts that leave his rather bruised knees and lean calves on display. As he strolls towards Seokjin's car, one of his sneakers gets left behind in full Cinderella style, all the more reason for him to laugh to himself and hop his way back to retrieve it. Seokjin notices then that he wears them with his heels out, bends the back of the shoe with the will of his steps.
Such a small, insignificant gesture. It stays with him nonetheless, all day long. When the girls knock on his window and tell him he's good to go. When he blows them kisses, gaze still on the broad back now in the distance, and they pretend to faint. When he gets to work and his father asks him if he attended the event before even saying good morning. When he sifts through meetings, calls and briefings, unable to grasp a single word, yet never missing a beat, programmed to do what he must despite the constant throbbing in his gut telling him to leave everything behind for once and just go to him.
"You look pale," his assistant murmurs as they walk out of one of the company building's conference rooms. "Are you feeling sick?"
"I am sick," Seokjin heaves, humorless grin on his face. The corridor stretched before him sways, or perhaps he does, for Yoongi's hand is on his shoulder the next second and the world gets back on its axis. Yoongi is the only person he can be more like himself around. Yoongi understands, because Yoongi loves like Seokjin loves. Or wishes to love someday. He's never dared to fall for anyone. He's never worn his shoes with the heels out.
"Let's get you some food," Yoongi suggests, and Seokjin follows him robotically until his office door is closed behind them.
"I saw someone," he sighs at last. His voice hurts, his eyes sting and Yoongi smiles, nods like he's spotted the thorn on Seokjin's side all along.
"What's he like?"
Seokjin's eyes flutter shut to conjure up his features behind the lids. The sight brings a smile to his face, a shaky sigh leaves him.
"Ah, Yoongi." He plasters his back to the door. "He's... He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
"Did you talk to him?"
Seokjin's eyes fly open. "Of course not." His shoulders curl inwards. "He didn't even see me."
Yoongi tuts. "Now that's a shame. As your assistant, I can't let this be."
"Pff, I'll never see him again." Seokjin rolls his eyes, hands balled into fists in his pockets. "I don't even know what he was doing there."
"Where?"
"The car wash." He chuckles at the now faint feeling of his pulse jack-hammering. "So unexpected. The moment I saw him, I... I thought I was gonna die. I didn't know what hit me."
"God, hyung, you're making me blush." Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, turns his back on Seokjin for a moment and Seokjin laughs. Laughs like he's happy. No, not like he's happy; laughs because he is. For some reason that escapes his grasp. When Yoongi faces him again, he flashes Seokjin a smug grin. "You know, I was about to grab lunch, and my car is in dire need of washing... How about you join me?"
They exchange loaded glances.
"Yoongi..."
"Come on, " he urges, stepping forward and shaking Seokjin by the shoulders. "You deserve to live a little."
Seokjin's stomach grumbles, gnawing at itself after half a day of starvation. There's no way Yoongi will get off his back now, and quite frankly, Seokjin doesn't want him to. His heart thunders at the mere idea of seeing that beautiful boy again. Even if they never lock eyes. Even if it has to end before it ever starts.
"Let's go," he nods dumbly, mirrors Yoongi's smile though his knees tremble.
Time trickles down painstakingly slowly from then on. The elevator ride to the parking lot never ends. The line at the drive-thru restaurant they grab lunch at stretches on ahead forever. Seokjin wolves down his sandwich in three anxiety-ridden bites and rots in the passenger seat, leg bouncing out of control, fingers drumming on his knees, until Yoongi takes the same right turn he took hours ago, and forever ends, just like that.
The boy comes right into view, both arms loaded with sponges, cloths and buckets. The same smile that blinded Seokjin earlier blooms in the distance, the same sweet horror takes him by storm and his fingers wrap around the seatbelt on his chest.
"Stay here until you wipe that lovestruck look off your face," Yoongi advises after parking, opening the car door. Seokjin's head whips in his direction, a heavy frown above his eyes. "Then follow my lead."
"Yoon—"
The driver's door slams shut before Seokjin can close his mouth again. Panic courses through him; how is he supposed to follow when he's got no idea what Yoongi has in mind?
"Welcome," he hears an unfamiliar voice on the other side of the glass, and the kindness in that one word eases the tension in his muscles. Seokjin's whole body turns in its direction, finds the boy standing by the car, listening to Yoongi. His hair follows the nodding of his head, bobbing cutely at the back. He places a bucket by his feet to push some of his bangs away from his eyes with the back of his fingers, and the gesture is so elegant compared to their surroundings that it gives Seokjin whiplash.
This boy doesn't belong here. That much he knows.
"The company had meant to send a reinforcement to help you handle the increased demand, but the guy got sent elsewhere by mistake..."
Yoongi's words filter in through the spell Seokjin is under. He blinks a few times, still watching the boy's focused expression from behind the tinted glass, trying to understand what bullshit Yoongi is coming up with now.
"Oh." The boy lifts his eyebrows. "I wasn't informed of any reinforcements."
"We apologize for the inconvenience." That's Yoongi's trademark line whenever he wants someone to just drop something fishy without raising much suspicion. Hardly anyone questions such a polite string of words. "Since he's been paid in advance, would you mind letting him help for the rest of the day at least? The heavy influx of cars is over now that the girls are gone, but please accept this as compensation from the company."
Seokjin's eyes widen. Letting him help for the rest of the day? What does Yoongi mean by that? He's got work to do back at the office. Besides, his father would murder him and Yoongi if he saw his son so lowly employed. Dread stirs him back to life and he reaches for the door handle to put an end to whatever that is, but it's too late.
"Sure," the boy replies, kind smile back in place, quick to trust Yoongi's credentials and way with words. His approval is Yoongi's cue to open the passenger door, and without warning, the boy finally returns Seokjin's gaze.
"His name is... Jin."
Seokjin's first instinct is to scowl at such a half-assed introduction, but the change in the boy's expression takes him by surprise and he forgets all about it. His smile falters, eyes fixed on Seokjin's, brows furrowing for a split second. Then the clouds dissipate, his features soften again, and Seokjin is left wondering if he made it all up.
"Hi, Jin. I'm Tae—" He purses his lips to stop the next syllable from coming out. "Just Tae."
Tae. It's too much. Too sweet.
Yoongi's hand on his shoulder startles him. Judging by the strength of his grip, the awkward silence has lasted too long. Seokjin clears his throat and offers a hand as greeting.
"Thanks for having me, Tae. Just Tae."
Tae chuckles before shaking his hand. It's soft, his palm, with slender fingers that leave a warm trace on Seokjin's skin.
"Your clothes, though..." Tae remarks, steps back to inspect him from head to toe with a hand on his chin. "A bit overkill for a car wash, don't you think?"
"As I said, a company misunderstanding," Yoongi steps in, to Seokjin's relief. "Would you have something to lend him? Just for today?"
After some low humming, Tae's eyes spark and his face lights up in tandem. "I think so! I'll be right back."
He walks away and disappears behind a rusty metal door. As soon as he's out of sight, the forced nonchalance on Seokjin's face crumbles and he turns to Yoongi with feverish desperation.
"What the hell did you do?"
"I'm giving you an opportunity to experience another reality," he hisses, glancing back and forth between Seokjin and the door from where Tae will reemerge at any moment. "Everything about your life makes you unhappy. This is your chance to try something new for a change."
Seokjin scoffs in outrage. "And you think washing cars is my true calling?"
"I don't know. If it is, good for you. But I meant the boy. Tae." Yoongi says his name suggestively and Seokjin gives his shoulder a not so friendly punch. "Do you have a better plan? How else did you expect to spend time with him without the weight of who you are ruining everything?"
His words put out the fire of Seokjin's anger. The remaining embers turn to melancholy.
"It's a lie," he sighs, gaze falling to his feet. "A dream."
"No, it's not. You wake up to a nightmare every day and call it reality." Yoongi's index pokes his chest, follows his firm intonation. "This isn't a dream. This is what your life could be if you just let it." His shoulders slump, the fight in him succumbing to a friend's plea that tugs at Seokjin's heartstrings. "Give him the chance to know you, and give yourself the chance to be you."
They share one last look before the door hinges squeak and Tae reappears, with a large piece of denim folded in his arms and a pair of white sneakers.
"Try these," he says, handing Seokjin the items. "They're Namjoon's, our mechanic. He's not coming today, you can wear them."
"Perfect. Thank you so much." Yoongi claps once in relief. "I must go back to the office now." He shoots Seokjin a reassuring glance should he even consider protesting. "Have a nice day!"
They wait for Yoongi to drive off before facing each other. There's a lingering smirk on Tae's face that troubles Seokjin's heartbeat, makes him hyper aware of himself and a tad too breathless for a normal person.
"Have you ever washed a car before?" He chuckles when Seokjin shakes his head. "Thought so. It's okay. Go change your clothes and I'll show you how it works."
More than happy to oblige, Seokjin heads to the same door Tae came out of and realizes it's a small locker room, with a single wooden bench in the middle and a small mirror on the wall opposite the door. Seokjin strips without much thought and steps into the jumpsuit. The denim is harsh against his skin, unlike the tailor-made suits he spends almost all his days in. It's a bit tight on the shoulders when he zips it up, not enough to restrict the movements of his arms. His own reflection catches his eye for a moment, and his stomach twists at how... Badass he looks. Rougher than he is. Strong and capable, not some wisp of a boy doomed to a life he abhors.
Yoongi's words come back to haunt him.
This isn't a dream. This is what your life could be if you just let it.
Nodding to himself, Seokjin decides that, regardless of what's at stake, he'll allow himself this one thing.
He almost bumps into Tae on his way out, not expecting him to be standing by the door.
"It fits!" Tae grins, and his warmth at such a short distance makes Seokjin silly. He spins around and stops with his arms open, lets out a small ta-da and Tae claps, shoulders shaking with easy laughter. A car drives in right on cue, and Tae tilts his head for Seokjin to follow.
The water is cold, a refreshing contrast to the spring afternoon. It's simple work, albeit tiresome. Tae shows him how to scrub the dirt without damaging the paint, the right angles and movements for more efficiency and less effort, and the perennial fog around Seokjin's mind lifts for once to the sound of him humming under his breath, occasionally chancing some English lyrics in a deep, sultry tone.
"Your voice," Seokjin risks remarking, eyes on the job his hands are doing, like it's not a big deal. "It's beautiful."
From his peripheral vision, he notices Tae doesn't look his way either, but his puffed up cheeks tickle Seokjin's spirit. "Thanks. I love to sing."
Time evades him without his awareness; here, where he's just Jin, like Tae is just Tae, and his father's shackles can't reach him, he can allow himself the luxury of leaving his worries behind. There's a peace about Tae, the way he talks and moves and looks at people, that's soothing in ways nothing else in Seokjin's life has been. Wrapped in the dignified sweat of his hard work, he only realizes the sun is setting behind the skyline when the last car drives off and Tae closes the gate with a chain and a heavy, rusty lock.
"Good job," he sighs, walking slowly towards Seokjin, feet coming to an awkward halt before him. "I know you've already been paid, but... Would you like a beer? As thanks for the help."
The offer sounds like music to his ears. Seokjin smiles, and Tae smiles back. They walk towards the vending machine at the back and Tae retrieves two bills from his pocket. Seokjin's stomach drops at the sight.
"No," he tries, grips Tae's wrist before he slips the bills in. "I got it."
Tae stares at Seokjin's hand on him and Seokjin lets go like he's burning. "Relax, rich guy. It's my treat."
Every muscle in Seokjin's body freezes. "Rich... Guy?"
"Didn't you just get paid today?" Tae deadpans, pouting a little. Like the cogs in Seokjin's brain, the vending machine rumbles before spitting out two cans. Tae hands him the beer and gets a Coke for himself.
"Ah. Yes. Right."
They sit on the curb, open their cans and clink them together. Seokjin takes a massive chug of his beer and coughs nervously, feels Tae's stare on his profile all the while. When he finally dares to return it, there's an unsettling smirk tempting the corner of his lips.
"It was nice to have you around today, Jin."
Seokjin's throat constricts. "Yes. It was nice. Thank you for everything."
As much as his brain tells him to look away and run with the good memories of this day before anything bad happens, his heart begs for one more second staring into those eyes, one more moment sharing silence with this lovely stranger who's given him nothing but kindness, more than his own father has ever shown, and asking for nothing in return.
Tae doesn't break eye contact, though his calm confidence wanes the more Seokjin stares. He takes a sip of his cola and his moist lips glisten in the dusk—not as much as his eyes, still withholding something precious that eludes Seokjin's knowledge, daring him to stay. It doesn't last more than a handful of breaths, however; in a swift move, Tae breaks the spell, jumps to his feet and slowly heads back inside.
"Tae," Seokjin calls without thinking, gets up with unsteady legs and goes to him. "I'm... I'm sorry."
Tae blinks in perfect innocence, head leaning to the side. "About what?"
Seokjin takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
"My name is Kim Seokjin. My father owns the biggest record label in Seoul." He pauses, can't hear himself over the blood rushing in his ears. "I'm... So sorry I lied to you."
Had it not happened to him, right before his eyes, Seokjin would have never believed it. Instead of losing his temper, like Seokjin expected, Tae simply closes his eyes and sighs.
"I know."
The ground vanishes beneath Seokjin's feet, yet he doesn't free fall, and neither does Tae. They stay right where they are, much to Seokjin's shock and delight.
"You... You do?" He stutters.
Tae hums in affirmation. Like he's answering a trivial question, not like he's unloading a burden from Seokjin's conscience.
"I saw you the first time you came here earlier. Those... Girls..." He squints, huffs in annoyance, and Seokjin can't help joining him. They can be a handful on occasion, he's well aware of that. "Were tripping all over themselves trying to catch your eye, then got all whiny when you left. I didn't understand what the fuss was all about, so I searched your name on Naver and... Well."
Seokjin's smile lingers, fueled by the relief that only honesty brings. "Well?"
Tae gulps, gaze falling to the floor, and Seokjin fights the urge to touch his chin and tilt his head back up. "Well... Then I understood."
"Understood what?" He pries, with all the softness he can muster.
After a moment worrying his bottom lip with teeth, Tae throws his hands up and groans. "Well!"
"Well, what?" Seokjin can't help laughing. His embarrassment is so adorable.
"You're really handsome, okay?" He blurts out at last, then clamps his mouth with a hand, eyes bulging in shame. All Seokjin can do is laugh harder, so hard he doubles over, hugging his middle. "Yah! What's so funny?"
It takes Seokjin a while to catch his breath. "Us."
Tae frowns. "Us?"
Seokjin hums—a habit he's sure his father will despise, which only makes him love it more. "Do you know why I came back?"
"Promise not to laugh?" Tae looks genuinely mortified, which leads Seokjin to nod without hesitation. "I thought this was some sort of undercover boss thing? I kept stealing glances around for cameras but couldn't find any!"
He really should have given that promise some thought before agreeing. The snort that comes out of Seokjin is inhuman; his whole upper body shakes and his stomach hurts from all the cackling. Tears slip from the corners of his eyes and the more Tae yells at him to stop, the funnier it gets, so much that eventually Tae just surrenders and laughs along.
"Undercover boss, oh, my God..." Seokjin sniffles, wipes his eyes with the uniform sleeves. "That was the best thing I've ever heard."
Tae covers his face with both hands, peeks at Seokjin from between his fingers, voice muffled. "What would you have thought if the roles were reversed?"
"Okay, you have a point. But that's really not why I'm here." He couldn't wipe the goofy smile from his face even if he tried, which he doesn't. The short silence that follows is heavy, laden with expectation.
"Then why did you come back?"
Tae's voice comes out airy, a breath that demands an answer. Throwing caution out the window for the one second it takes him to step closer, Seokjin doesn't shy away from the question.
"Because I had to see you again."
The space around them is so empty and quiet that Seokjin gets to hear the gasp in the back of Tae's throat. He blushes fast under Seokjin's marvelled gaze, splotches of red blooming underneath his skin like he's made of color, eyes glinting in the dark the sun left behind, home to countless constellations. Fueled by the life pouring out of him, Seokjin steps forward again, lips parting to give way to words he doesn't have to think before speaking—they come straight from the heart.
"Because I saw you, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. I wanted more. To talk to you. To see you smile, to hear you laugh. And when the time came to get back to my meaningless life, I'd know that, at least for one day, I was able to live as myself."
Tae doesn't move, standing perfectly still before him. His breaths, on the other hand, are erratic, as if he'd been running. The truth is, Seokjin's the one who's been running; from himself, from the fear of his father's rejection, the sting of his disgust. Yoongi was right all along. It's time to wake up from this nightmare and go after his own dreams.
Seokjin doesn't expect him to say or do anything. It's a lot to dump all over someone's head, especially if you've only just met hours ago. With a kind smile and clear skies in his mind, he gives Tae's arm a light squeeze before heading to the locker room to change.
It was a beautiful dream, one Seokjin will cherish forever. But it's time to wake up. His father will hunt him down if he doesn't show up at home soon, and Seokjin needs to plan his next steps carefully if he wants to break free from his domineering grip—
"Taehyung."
His voice reaches Seokjin when he's about to open the door, cuts all his thoughts short, plants his feet on the ground. Frowning, Seokjin looks over his shoulder. "Sorry?"
"My name. It's not just Tae." He laughs to himself, marching all the way to Seokjin and standing as close as they were before. "It's Taehyung. Kim Taehyung."
There's an accomplished sense of pride about Tae—Taehyung as he waits for a reaction. A demand to be seen in full, two syllables, not one. Seokjin's heart bursts at the seams, his confused expression melting into a tender curl of the lips. His hand comes up to Taehyung's cheek, knuckles grazing the warm, reddened skin. "Taehyung," he whispers, takes his time, and Taehyung beams in return.
"Seokjin."
Taehyung's eyes hold all the secrets of the universe. The more he looks into them, the more Seokjin yearns to belong there as well, nestled among the galaxies and colliding stars. His other hand finds Taehyung's, and their fingers intertwine.
Seokjin sighs into his parted lips. Taehyung squeezes his hand, presses himself against him, and something inside Seokjin finally slots into place.
"Will you sing for me tomorrow?"
Taehyung's gaze, unfocused by elation, recovers its edge at the invitation. "What do you mean?"
"At the record label," Seokjin explains, struggles not to stumble on the words due to excitement. "I'll schedule a meeting first thing in the morning. What do you say?"
"I... I have work—"
Seokjin clicks his tongue, steps forward and Taehyung almost tumbles back, giggling and grabbing his sleeves for support. "You belong in the spotlight. I can take you there." His heart is beating in his throat, he's drunk on this new feeling. Love. Power. Maybe they're both the same thing. "Let me take you there."
Blushing deeply at the heartfelt offer, Taehyung opens and closes his mouth a few times, but makes no sound. Seokjin's eyes devour him through the hesitation, until he lets out a fragile sigh, fingernails now buried in the thick denim on Seokjin's shoulders. "Okay."
They share radiant smiles, the tips of their noses rub against one another, sharing the same air and clutching each other tighter. Though Seokjin has never worn his heel out the shoe, he's not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve for this boy, who looks just as shaken, just as enchanted by their unlikely meeting.
"Taehyung," he whispers just because, thumb caressing the corner of Taehyung's mouth, crazy with how Taehyung looks back at him—trusting, knowing.
"Seokjin..." Taehyung smiles, eyes fluttering shut. "Kiss me."
He gladly obeys, cupping Taehyung's face with both hands and pressing their lips together. Seokjin quite likes this new imperative, based not on fear, but on hope.