Chapter Text
Taehyung felt strange from the moment he woke up that day.
He couldn’t really name the feeling. It wasn’t the nervousness he used to get before concerts and competitions. It wasn’t fear or excitement or even relief that the day of the audition had finally come after a year of just practicing for this day. He just felt off. Like he was going through the motions on autopilot.
It’s not like Taehyung hasn’t had off days before. He’s had days where his hands don’t feel connected to his body and his fingers don’t seem to listen to him. It’s like they move on their own, like someone else is controlling them instead of Taehyung himself.
Including Taehyung, there’s ten people waiting for their turn in the stuffy hallway. Over half of them are people Taehyung had met before. He knew them from competitions, other auditions, heard stories from his colleagues. Good stories, bad ones, the “you better watch out for this one” stories. He could tell the others recognized him too. He wondered what kind of stories others have told about him and if the others are keeping an eye on him too.
Ignoring the eyes of the other contenders, who have been staring at him ever since he opened the door, Taehyung sits on one of the empty chairs and starts to open up his violin case. He doesn’t spare any of them a glance.
Even though it's been over a year since Taehyung last auditioned for anything, he still knows how this goes.
Wait for your turn. Don’t get intimidated by others. Breathe. Stretch your fingers. Breathe. Make sure your instrument is tuned. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Taehyung should’ve known something was wrong the moment he woke up.
1 WEEK LATER
Taehyung was trying, and failing, to find a good enough reason to get out of bed.
He has been awake for a few hours now, switching between staring at his ceiling and at his almost empty wall. When he moved into the apartment Taehyung had plans to paint the wall a sage green or a navy blue and to put up random artwork and postcards to make the room more lively. So far he just has one floating shelf with a dying Pothos plant, a few books he bought but hasn’t read yet and 1st place certificate he won at a violin competition 2 years ago. Next to it on the wall are three framed photos. One of Taehyung and his parents, taken in front of the huge tree in Taehyung’s grandparents garden that eventually had to be cut down. A selfie of Taehyung and his cousin Seokjin. And one of Taehyung’s family dog Yeontan.
Hidden under a mound of pillows, the sound of the podcast he put on to fill the silence is muffled. He doesn’t have the energy to save it from its suffocation. Even though his window is closed he can hear people walking or driving or biking through New York’s streets . The new neighbor who moved in last week is blasting early 2000s pop songs so loud Taehyung can hear it through their walls. Besides the occasional r&b song, that’s about all that Taehyung has heard from them this entire week. He doesn’t mind it much since it’s just another source of background noise that he can focus on rather than the sound of his own heartbeat.
It’s already Friday. Taehyung knows this because today is the only day this week he hasn’t woken up to a call from Seokjin. He also knows that any minute now, Seokjin will be ringing his doorbell and then furiously knocking when Taehyung doesn’t get up to open fast enough.
Lately their Friday lunch tradition just seems like a way for Seokjin to make sure Taehyung doesn’t spend every Friday in bed because apparently just because he has an extended weekend doesn’t mean he should spend it buried under blankets. Taehyung appreciated the gesture. He’s getting sick of laying here too.
This week has been different. Usually he gives violin lessons from monday to thursday. Usually he spends half his day practicing that one piece even though he knows it by heart by know. He tells everyone it’s because playing brings him joy but really he can't remember the last time that was the case.
For the first time in eighteen years, Taehyung has gone an entire week without even touching his instrument. Oh, if only Ms. Hwa could see him now. If she knew Taehyung would someday do this, she would’ve thought twice about saying he was her star student and framing a picture of him with a list of all his achievements.
Just as expected, Taehyung’s doorbell rings. For a moment, he thinks about not getting up. Partly to annoy Seokjin but mostly because he feels like there are three weighted blankets on top of him and he’d rather stay there than to move his heavy limbs. Knowing Seokjin though, he will continue ringing and knocking until Taehyung lets him in.
Getting up takes longer than it should. Walking through his living room feels like an eternity. On his way he forces himself to pick up stray laundry and to throw them in the basket in his bathroom. He still leaves the take out boxes and mugs on the coffee table. The apartment looks nice enough. Seokjin has seen it in worse states.
Seokjin doesn’t wait for Taehyung to fully open the door or even say hello before he is barging into Taehyung’s living room. Taehyung sighs as he closes the door and waits for the lecture about to come. He watches in silence as Seokjin gets three containers from his tote bag and places them on the coffee table.
“Well, come on hermit,” Seokjin says, sitting down between the couch and coffee table. He looks Taehyung up and down, eyes scanning the oversized t-shirt Taehyung got five years ago from a competition, the letters barely readable, the giant violin print fading, and the pokemon pajama pants with holes in both knees. “Breakfast is served.”
“Not a hermit and-”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Seokjin interrupts.
"It’s lunch time,” Taehyung says, glancing at the digital clock on the TV stand where 12pm glares at him.
Seokjin pushes a container towards Taehyung as he sits down, “For me yes, but I’ve been at work for four hours. You look like you just woke up.”
Trying to deny it would be stupid, because they have been doing this same routine for the past year and because Seokjin has known Taehyung since before he could even talk.
When Taehyung moved to New York his parents asked Seokjin to take care of him. Seokjin has taken that job seriously. Maybe too seriously considering it’s been four years and Taehyung is now a full grown adult, but Taehyung would still much rather have a doting older cousin than be alone an ocean away from all his family.
Taehyung was a different person then, barely twenty.
Steam hits Taehyung’s face when he opens the container. His stomach growls. “Doenjang jjigae?”
“Yup, made it last minute. Jihyo almost threw a pan at me for disturbing the peace inside her kitchen.” Seokjin says, opening his own container and clapping his hands.
Taehyung snorts. “It kinda is her kitchen, though.” Seokjin just glares at him. “Come on, when was the last time you cooked for a customer? And no, Namjoon and I don’t count.”
Seokjin rests his chin on his palm and grins. He is wearing his work clothes, today a dark blue button up with the sleeves slightly rolled and black slacks . It’s basic but somehow Seokjin looks as expensive as a successful restaurant owner should. “Alright then, how about I make you pay next time I so generously bring you lunch?”
He pretends to consider it. There’s no way he’d ever pay for Seokjin’s food unless Seokjin actually had to work to make it. Taehyung knows that Seokjin likes cooking for him because it reminds them both of home. And also because if Seokjin didn’t, Taehyung’s mother would count that against him in her and aunt Jaehee’s “who can raise a better child” feud. It’s a joke. Mostly.
So far Taehyung would say Aunt Jaehee and Seokjin are winning.
Sure, Taehyung has a shelf full of trophies and certificates, but they’re just collecting dust in Taehyung’s childhood bedroom with an empty picture frame that was supposed to hold his university graduation picture. That’s pretty much all his parents have to be proud of.
On the other hand Seokjin owns two successful restaurants with a third on the way, a house and is in a happy marriage to top it off. The final nail in the coffin would be kids which is the only reason Taehyung still has a chance in this “feud” because he’s fairly certain Seokjin and Namjoon aren’t planning on raising a family just yet.
Taehyung snaps the chopsticks and plops a piece of tofu in his mouth, “You wouldn’t dare.”
Seokjin snaps his own chopsticks too and points them at Taehyung, “Try me, brat.”
The food tastes like home. Like Daegu and its fields. Like the garden behind their grandparents house. Like Seollah and Chuseok when Seokjin would teach Taehyung how to steal food from the kitchen while the adults were preparing it.
This is why Taehyung loves eating Seokjin’s food.
His recipes are built on what their grandparents and parents used to cook for them. It makes the homesickness from living an ocean away feel a little less painful, though it still doesn’t make it go away.
At first, Taehyung had been annoyed at his parents for asking Seokjin to take care of him. Why would he need a babysitter when he has a full scholarship that includes a place in the dorm and free lunch?
Twenty year old Taehyung didn’t think he’d miss home on the 2nd day of living in his dorm room. Twenty year old Taehyung didn’t think being in a country where he barely heard his own language would make him feel so incredibly lonely. Twenty year old Taehyung didn’t know the person he moved for would leave six months later.
Now almost twenty-five year old Taehyung doesn’t mind when Seokjin practically forces him out of bed every friday to have lunch. Now he’s glad he has even a small piece of home with him. And Taehyung knows Seokjin feels the same because even though Seokjin has lived here longer than Taehyung and has found another home in Namjoon, he still misses home too.
Taehyung only notices Seokjin’s staring after he’s stuffed the last bit of food into his mouth. Seokjin is leaning against the couch, one arm resting on the edge of the seat like he’s a bachelor inviting someone to sit next to him. His face doesn’t match the pose though, unless he’s going for the “You look sad, come over and cry onto my shoulder” look.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just wondering when you’re going to start talking.” Seokjin tries to look nonchalant by staring at his nails. “How was the audition?”
The Audition.
Even though Taehyung knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the topic, his shoulders tense.
“It was alright.”
It was far from it, but he doesn’t know how to tell Seokjin or his family or anyone for that matter that he failed at the one audition he had been practicing for and basically betting his entire career on for a year.
Being showcased at a Choi Yerim concert was a golden ticket to success and something that Taehyung has dreamed of since he was eight years old when he could barely even read sheet music but when his chance came at the audition Taehyung had lost it in the first passage of his piece.
Failure isn’t something Taehyung is accustomed to. Actually he can’t remember a single instance where he would’ve failed at an audition, let alone a performance in the way that he did a week ago. Which is exactly why he should’ve seen it coming.
At this point Taehyung has memorized the rejection email that arrived first thing on monday and that led to him disappointing his students by canceling lessons for the week while he lay in bed trying to figure out his next step. So far there is no next step. He’s just stuck.
“It was alright?” Seokjin says with a deadpan voice, “Is that why you’ve locked yourself up for the entire week?”
We regret to inform you… We regret to inform you… We regret to inform you…
“I needed a break.”
“And that’s fine! But when you disappear and don’t tell anyone that you’re just having a break your parents will go into panic mode and then they’ll call me to come and check if you’re still alive.” Seokjin takes a deep breath. “They’re just worried about you, Tae. I am too.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.” Seokjin crosses his arms and looks at Taehyung with a look that he inherited from their grandma that makes it feel like Seokjin is trying to break every brick of the wall Taehyung has built to protect himself.
With his chopsticks, Taehyung pokes at the stray pieces of rice and kimchi still in his container to avoid looking at Seokjin, “I just…I don’t know.”
How is he supposed to tell Seokjin that playing hasn’t felt the same in a while? That playing hasn’t felt like anything in so long that Taehyung is starting to get scared it never will? That the real reason he hasn’t performed in a year is because he knew that if he stepped on stage something similar to what happened at the audition would happen on stage? That Taehyung told himself this audition would be his last attempt and he had failed?
“Okay,” Seokjin says, his voice gentle like he thinks one wrong word will make Taehyung break. He’s not wrong. “But I’ll be here to listen when you know.”
Neither of them get to say anything more as the doorbell rings.
“Weird,” Taehyung mumbles and gets up.
Opening the door, Taehyung is either expecting to see girl scouts selling cookies or someone selling something Taehyung most likely can’t afford. Prepared for the latter, he already has an apology for not being interested on the tip of his tongue. But when he opens the door it’s not an overly happy adult with bags under their eyes or overly happy kids with pigtails resting on their shoulders.
Taehyung sucks in a breath.
Standing in front of him is a man who is a bit shorter than him and also happens to have the softest looking blonde hair Taehyung has ever seen. It curls and falls just around the man's ears where small silver moon earrings dangle. Taehyung’s fingers twitch.
“Who is it?” Seokjin practically yells from the living room even though the door is only a few feet away.
Taehyung looks at the man he has never met before. He’s wearing a white baggy t-shirt that’s hanging off his left shoulder and black shorts that end at his knee. He doesn’t look to be selling vacuums or cookies but Taehyung has been wrong before.
“Hi I’m Park Jimin, new neighbor,” The man, Jimin, says, pointing a finger to the apartment left of Taehyung’s, “I moved in last week.”
“That’s cool.” Taehyung blurts. A faint smile paints Jimin’s face. His lips are glossy like he’s put on a layer of lip gloss and oh my god Taehyung is staring at Jimin’s lips. There’s a pause. “Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you.”
Taehyung hears Seokjin snort and whisper “That’s cool” quietly to himself.
“Nice to meet you too, Taehyung.” Jimin says, briefly shaking Taehyung's extended hand that Taehyung hadn’t even realized he had lifted towards him. “I don’t want to bother you, but I ran out of sugar and I have hungry friends waiting to be fed by cookies and I don’t have time to go to the store-”
“I can borrow some!” Taehyung says so quickly he hadn’t realized he was cutting Jimin off. “Uh, sorry. Just give me a sec.”
Taehyung retreats back inside his apartment before Jimin, or he himself, has the time to say anything else.
Socks on, Taehyung slides towards his kitchen while trying to think where he put the sugar bag last time or when the last time he even used it was.
“What’d they want?” Seokjin asks from the couch.
Taehyung is already opening every single cabinet in the kitchen. “He just wants to borrow sugar.”
“First one on the left, 2nd shelf,” Seokjin says, “Should I be worried that I know more about your kitchen than you do?”
Taehyung doesn’t answer as he finds the bag and quickly goes back to where Jimin is waiting for him. “Is this enough?”
Jimin looks at Taehyung and then at the bag, he bunches his brows together. His face is pretty, the kind you’d notice even in a crowd of people. Full lips, dark brown eyes, soft cheeks that have a smudge of flour stuck to them. Taehyung wants to swipe it away, but that’s a completely unacceptable thing to do to a complete stranger so Taehyung ignores it.
“It’s perfect.” Jimin smiles, eyes disappearing as his cheeks lift.
Cute.
“Good thing I only use it to make nurungji.” Taehyung mumbles to himself as he gives the bag to Jimin who looks up at him again with eyes full of surprise.
“You don’t use it for anything.” Seokjin thinks out loud again and Taehyung is extremely close to just shutting the apartment door.
Jimin’s eyes briefly wander behind Taehyung’s shoulder as if to see who’s inside the apartment. “I love nurungji. My dad used to make it all the time.”
“Mine too! Well, my mom did, dad isn’t much of a cook. Neither am I really,” Taehyung says, scratching at his neck and wondering why he is still talking.
“It’s really easy. I could give you a foolproof recipe for it,” Jimin smiles, “Or just make it for you.”
“Oh you don’t have to it’s-“
“It’ll be a thank you for borrowing this,” Jimin says, wiggling the bag of sugar.
“Uhm-“
“Great, It’s settled then!” Jimin winks. He winks. “I’m already late now so I should really get going but again, it was nice meeting you, Taehyung.”
“Yeah, you too.” Taehyung says as calmly as possible while wanting a black hole to come and swallow him up whole. “Bye.”
Jimin leaves and Taehyung waits for the door of the apartment next to his shut before closing his own door and walking back to the coffee table. He tucks his left leg underneath him as he hugs the other one and rests his head on it.
For a minute or so it’s quiet in the apartment, but it doesn’t last long, “So, you have a crush on your neighbor.”
Taehyung snaps his head up, “What? No.”
“Why are you blushing then?”
“Because I just searched the entire kitchen for one bag of sugar and that’s like a full work out for me.”
“Uh uh, and why did you do all that for a neighbor you just met.”
“Because I’m a good neighbor and a nice person.” Taehyung lets his other knee fall so he’s sitting criss-crossed.
Seokjin’s worried stare has turned into a smug. “But mostly because you think your neighbor is cute.”
“Shut up.”
For once, Seokjin does shut up as he checks his wristwatch that could definitely pay Taehyung’s rent for the next four months if not more. He clicks his tongue. “I have to leave early today. Will you be fine?”
“I can manage.”
“Tae.”
“Just go already, leave me here to rot.”
“Taehyung.”
“I’m fine hyung.” Taehyung puts on a practiced smile, one that even his cousin hasn’t caught onto yet. “I promise.” Taehyung could be an actor if he really wanted to.
Seokjin furrows his brows. Opens and closes his mouth hesitating. Eventually he gets up with a sigh. “Just call your parents.”
“Yeah, yeah grandpa.”
“Brat.”
—
After an hour long phone call with his mother that consisted of her scolding him for not answering calls for an entire week, multiple questions about the audition that Taehyung answered very vaguely and a rant from his father about how bad the fish market has been lately, Taehyung ends up mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed.
It’s the same as always. He mostly follows other musicians, either ones he’s met or one’s he admires, so the feed consists only of photos and videos of them performing, selfies at their practice rooms and the rare appearance of a pet or a friend. He scrolls, likes most, comments on a few, but eventually Taehyung comes across a post that makes him stop the endless stream of pictures.
Viktor Sennaro, one of Taehyung’s old university friends, was standing in front of the same building Taehyung stepped in last week. He was smiling, clutching a violin case to his chest with his right arm while his left was lifted in the air.
VikViolins: Exciting news coming!!
Taehyung reads the caption, looks at the picture. Again. And again.
Exciting news coming.
Taehyung wasn’t surprised. They probably made their decision to choose him on the spot, much like they made the decision not to choose Taehyung. He wonders if the other four have received their acceptances already.
After Taehyung dropped out of university, he and Viktor didn’t talk much. Even during university they weren’t more than occasional practice buddies or casual rivals during showcases. Viktor is talented. More than. It makes sense that Choi Yerim would pick him.
He sends Viktor a quick message to congratulate him before throwing his phone across the bed.
His violin is still leaning against the wall, locked away in its case where Taehyung left it last Friday. He sort of feels bad for it, in a way one would feel bad for forgetting their favorite childhood stuffies name.
Ungracefully, Taehyung rolls off the bed and reaches over to the case. It’s about time he played again, considering that on Monday he will have to go around the city teaching kids how to become like him. That’s their words, not his. Everytime one of his students tells him that, Taehyung has to smile and laugh and tell them that they can. And Taehyung believes in them, he really does. But he also knows that he’s not the best role model for aspiring musicians.
All that his students see are videos of Taehyung playing perfectly at competitions and concerts with a list of accolades listed on his website. What they don’t see is that he has reached his ceiling and he’s not sure he can break through it this time.
He feels like a fraud.
People used to wonder how he did it. How could Taehyung be so perfect with every performance? He’d always answer that it was because of practice, but that didn’t feel fair to say since he knew the people asking were practicing just as hard as he was.
Taehyung was just gifted. A true prodigy.
Ms. Hwa even called him a one in a million talent, which at the age of six made him feel special. Later, when he got older, the title would feel like a giant boulder he had to carry on his back. The way Taehyung sees it, the boulder really started pressing him down during his 3rd year in university and obviously the boulder won.
Now the violin on his shoulder feels almost as heavy as the boulder.
After quick warm ups, Taehyung tries the piece he failed to play at the audition. Sibelius concerto, first movement. The same piece he heard Choi Yerim play when he was eight years old.
Around the time Choi Yerim’s career had taken a leap, she came and performed at the Daegu Music Hall. Because of this, Ms. Hwa insisted on doing a field trip with all of her violin students which of course included Taehyung.
It was his first time experiencing a professional concerto. During the performance he had been so focused on every single detail, so lost in the way Yerim embodied the piece, that unlike the other three students who were complaining of boredom, Taehyung hadn’t even noticed the time was running.
From then on it was like a switch had been flipped. Everyone around him noticed it as well, but especially Ms. Hwa since after that the level of training she was giving Taehyung far exceeded what she was giving the others.
Playing the violin wasn’t just a hobby anymore. It was what Taehyung was born to do.
Sometimes he wonders what would’ve happened if Ms. Hwa hadn’t taken him to that concert. Would he still be playing? What kind of musician would he be? Would he have achieved everything he has so far? Would he have fallen this hard if he chose something else?
In a way the concert Yerim was holding auditions for was everything Taehyung has been building towards since that day. It’s one thing to participate in a concert to showcase young talent, it’s another for that concert to be organized, composed and directed completely by the one violinist Taehyung has idolized since he was a child.
Much to Taehyung’s relief, Yerim wasn’t there during the audition. It was only him and the judges in the empty auditorium with the spotlight completely on him making it easier for the judges to see every single mistake Taehyung made that day. If Yerim was there, Taehyung doubts he would’ve been able to even finish the piece.
When the concert was announced a year ago, Taehyung put down all of his projects including university to focus solely on getting chosen and spent the entire year leading up to the audition practicing and revising and practicing again.
At the time it seemed like a good option and for a while it worked. Focusing on one thing only was a good break from his usual schedule where he’d have school and orchestra practice and competitions all at the same time. The longer he went on though, the clearer the cracks became.
The crumbling had already begun during university but all the things he was doing were enough to distract him. He was using superglue to fill in the cracks and paint over them to make himself and everyone else believe the cracks were never there at all.
While in the waiting room, Taehyung did everything he was supposed to.
Tune. Stretch. Visualize. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Everything disappeared when he stepped on that stage.
Usually if he blanks, his body will remember all the hours of practice Taehyung forced it to go through and it will move on its own. This time it was like all the things he had practiced for years were slipping through his fingertips and his body was finally not grasping to hold on.
Breathe. Breathe.
Breathe.
Taehyung assumes that after all the auditions, the judges collected all the good tapes and showed them to Yerim who made the final decision of the five performers while Taehyung’s flat, choppy rendition of the first movement of Sibelius’ concerto was lost in the trash bin of some executives laptop.
Now he plays through the piece like he always has. Close to perfect, but still not enough. He wonders if he played like this would Yerim have chosen him. He’d like to think yes, but he also knows that some of the people who auditioned have beaten him in competitions before.
Truly what scares him the most about all this is that while yes, he is upset, the feeling of sadness and disappointment is buried underneath so much nothingness that he can barely feel it at all.
Taehyung knows he is supposed to be sad, knows that he is supposed to be disappointed and heartbroken and angry and every other bad emotion under the sun. Yet he spent the entire week wondering why all he felt was numb. Trying to force himself to cry and weep. Wanting to call Seokjin to listen to him say that everything is going to be alright or his parents to ask them if Taehyung can come home and rest for a while and if that makes him a failure. Wishing Yoongi was-
Taehyung’s fingers twitch and the strings release a weak sound.
Slowly he puts the violin back in its case and then stares at the wall, hugging his knees to his chest, for so long that the sun has time to set.
Ever since monday Taehyung has been trying to convince himself that maybe this is a good thing. Life always has a plan and all of that inspirational quote bullshit he sees everywhere.
Maybe this will open new doors. Maybe this will teach him a lesson. Maybe it isn’t so bad that he risked everything for this one thing and lost it in one breath. Maybe something better will come along.
Something better.
Yeah, right.
Just as the silence is starting to suffocate him, he hears laughter coming from the apartment on his left. He can’t make out how many people there are, but he assumes Jimin is having some sort of house warming party.
He listens for a while. Laughter and music and the sound of something crashing followed by an incoherent exclamation that sounded like a curse. The typical sounds of a party.
After some time though, Taehyung hears something he wasn’t expecting.
The unmistakable sound of a cello playing Britney Spears's Toxic.
—
At around 11pm, Taehyung’s doorbell rings again.
This time he is expecting it to be a lost pizza delivery person or someone trying to break into his apartment to rob him. Prepared for the latter, Taehyung makes sure the door chain is locked before opening.
Once again he is wrong and once again he’s greeted with Park Jimin, this time with a green container in his hands and a pink Britney Spears shirt on.
“Hi,” Taehyung says, a little surprised to see Jimin so soon, “What’s up?”
“Hey, sorry I know it’s really late, but I wanted to give these to you now before my friends eat them all.” Jimin says, handing the green container to Taehyung.
Taehyung takes it and immediately opens the lid. Chocolate chip cookies. “Oh.”
“They’re the leftovers I managed to save.”
“Thank you,” Taehyung says, closing the lid and hugging the container to his chest.
“It’s nothing,” Jimin shakes his head, then looks at Taehyung’s shirt, still the same competition one from 2015 with the giant violin printed on the front. “Anyway, I had a suspicion it was you playing Sibelius on repeat like a crazy person.”
His surprise lasts only a few seconds before he smirks and looks at the equally work Britney shirt Jimin is wearing. “And you’re the one playing Toxic.”
“Touché.” Jimin shrugs. “I don’t mind the violin playing. You’re good at it.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Taehyung says, “I don’t mind the Britney or the party, though I can’t say the same about Mrs. Wilson on your left. She might have some strong words about it.”
“Yeah, she’s terrifying.” Jimin giggles. Fucking giggles. “Sorry about the noise. It’s a friend's birthday party and they decided on an iconic women of pop theme. They’re shutting down now.”
A sound of something crashing comes down the hallway and Jimin looks like he already knows before his door even opens.
“Uh, hey Jimin?” An unfamiliar voice echoes in the hallway, “Could you maybe leave your cute neighbor for just a sec?
Taehyung’s stomach does a flip.
“Lyra might’ve bumped one of your fancy baking bowls down again and may or may not be tracking cookie dough all over.” The voice continues and this time Taehyung peaks his head out in the hallway and looks left where a man with bright red hair is standing in the next doorway. “Damn, you are cute. Jimin if you aren’t going to-“
“Hoseok, please.”
“Yup, sorry.”
“Can’t Jungkook help?”
“Uh, he’s passed out on the couch already.”
“Of course he is,” Jimin mumbles, lifting both of his hands to hide his face.
“Okay Lyra is approaching your rug,” Hoseok says, looking into Jimin’s apartment like there’s a monster causing havoc inside.
Jimin takes a deep breath as his hands fall, “I have to go, my cat is making a mess again.”
“Yeah, go ahead.” Taehyung chuckles. “Thanks again for the cookies.”
“No problem. They’re only the first part of payment for earlier.” Jimin must see the confusion in Taehyung’s face and Taehyung wonders if the warmth of his cheeks also looks obvious to him. “Nurungji, remember?”
“Oh, right. You really don’t have to!”
“No, but I want to,” Jimin says and quickly glances towards his apartment where Hoseok is still looking terrified, “Besides, if I don’t, Hoseok might snatch you up first.” Jimin’s lips curl and Taehyung notices lip gloss again and now also the slight shimmer on his cheekbone. Taehyung doesn’t know why that matters to him. Or he does, but he’s trying very hard to ignore it. “See you around, Taehyung.”
Jimin walks away and leaves Taehyung’s head spinning in his wake.
Oh boy.