Chapter Text
It would be funny if it hadn’t actually happened. Unfortunately, the story you’re about to read is completely true. My mom sold me to BTS. Well, maybe not sold in the typical sense of the word, but sold me out to? Yes. 100% yes. She might as well have handed me a “I joined the international manhunt for [police sketch matching me exactly] and all I got was this stupid t-shirt” t-shirt.
I suppose you want some explanation… Well, here goes. Again, please keep in mind that I wish I was making this up.
When I was young - like, toddler if not outright infant - my mom worked at a big university. It’s not important which one, but it is vital to note that it had a huge percentage of international students and employees. My mom worked in a department with a number of these international employees, in particular a small group of Korean men. After I was born and at the age to be brought into work a couple times a week, these men apparently fawned over me, bringing me gift after gift and congratulating my mom on how small and adorable I was. Eventually, we moved states, and Mom and I no longer saw these men with any regularity. She stayed in contact with them, though, sending gifts in return as they started their own families and made their own moves. Most of these men’s stories end here. One of them, though, is part of the reason why I am haunted to this day.
See, this man’s wife had a baby pretty soon after my mom had me. About three months later. The way Mom always talked about him - because they kept in touch the longest out of anyone in the university’s department - I always guessed that she had a bit of a crush on him. I couldn’t blame her, though. The man was smokin’! Seriously, the most symmetrical face I’d ever seen. When he and Mom had their monthly catch-up calls, I would hear bits and pieces of their conversation, and he had a deep, smooth voice that anyone who was even remotely attracted to men would fall head over heels for in an instant. Of course, the man and his wife were deeply in love, as were Mom and my dad, so apart from remaining close friends, nothing happened over the years.
Until, that is, we got word one day that Mr. Kim’s son had started a band with some friends. I was 18 at the time, and a little over getting constant news updates on some boy I hadn’t met since I was a baby. So as you can imagine, the news that Taehyung had joined a boy band was not that exciting to me. I mean, sure, I was supportive of it and happy for him, but I’d heard a lot of awkward growing-up stories. I didn’t think he’d be that good at it, to be honest with you. That Christmas, in our yearly gift exchange, I got a copy of the band’s new CD. They’d decided to call themselves Bangtan Sonyeondan, or BTS for short. I cracked up the moment I laid eyes on the ridiculous album cover, complete with a bulletproof vest, containing the kind of emo-pop music that I’m sure I would have loved… in eighth grade. Boy, did I get an earful after being unable to restrain my giggles during the next phone call with the Kims.
But Mom was unrestrained in her excitement, and insisted that we finally make the arrangements for a visit that had been long talked about but never set into motion. “Maybe we can get a photo of the kids together backstage before a concert!” she exclaimed to Mr. Kim. I rolled my eyes from the other room, suppressing a heavy sigh. Not only would I have to sit through a concert that would be conducted entirely in a language which I had only the most basic grasp on, but I would first have to submit to the humiliation of multiple rounds of mom-pics. In other words, end me now, please.
.
The concert that was chosen for us to attend coincided with the end of my first year of college. I left campus the evening after I took my last final and headed directly to the airport. All I had with me were the things I’d need for the vacation, stuffed into a small checked suitcase and my carry-on backpack. I’d packed everything else in a storage unit for the summer; I’d been living a minimalist lifestyle, borrowing sheets from my roommate, for the past week.
Mom and I met in New York and took a several-connection flight to Seoul. I was exhausted and had completely lost track of the time changes by the time we arrived. Mom practically carried me to the hotel, and I crashed instantly, sleeping straight through until the next morning.
We met the Kims backstage before the concert that night. Mom couldn’t stop exclaiming over our VIP badges the entire day leading up to it, so I was grateful when we finally reached the subway stop for the concert venue. As soon as we walked in, Mom screamed with joy and was met with an equally enthusiastic cry of delight from a man I recognized to be Mr. Kim. There was a tall boy with heavy eyeliner standing next to him. I recognized him instantly as Taehyung and took a deep breath. I hadn’t realized how well he’d grown up - this boy was extremely handsome.
“Marina,” Taehyung said, pointing at me.
“What? That’s not my name,” I said, confused.
He laughed and reached out, pulling me in for a hug. “Your shirt, dummy. Marina? What is that?”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Marina and the Diamonds! Only the best artist of our time! No offense.”
“I’ll have to give her a listen,” he said, and allowed me to step away from him and be swept into Mr. Kim’s arms. I nodded and smiled through almost ten minutes of adult gab over how big Taehyung and I had gotten, and how nice it was for each parent to see the other’s child in person again, finally.
When we escaped, Taehyung ushered me over to meet the other members of the band. “This is Kim Namjoon, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok-”
“J-Hope,” the tall boy interrupted. “And when we’re performing, he’s RM.”
Taehyung smiled, seeming unbothered by the interruption. “Oh, yeah, some of us have stage names. Mine’s V. Anyway, the others are Kim Seokjin, or Jin, and… wait. Where’s Yoongi?”
Namjoon gestured behind him to a long hallway. “Bathroom, I think,” he said.
“Ah, well. Our last member is Min Yoongi, who calls himself Suga.”
“Cool,” I said, nodding. “There’s, uh… a lot of you.”
Jin laughed. “We have a theory that Bang PD-nim wanted to give Korea a pretty boy for every day of the week.”
Jungkook flushed and spoke up. “Enough of that. I think they wanted to take our pictures? Can someone get Yoongi-hyung?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” said a production assistant, rushing up. “All of you need final makeup checks first. Send the girl if you don’t think he’ll come back in time on his own.”
“Oh, uh… Sure, I can go,” I said. I gave a wave and headed out into the hallway to find the bathroom. I walked the wrong way at first, but I did get to see their costuming room. So many clothes! I finally reached the bathroom door and knocked.
“...Yoongi? Min Yoongi?” I called tentatively. There was an unintelligible response and I knocked again, pressing my ear up against the wood. “Mianhae, sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Suga,” he said, opening the door suddenly. I stumbled, almost falling forward, and felt two surprisingly strong hands catch my upper arms.
“Uh…”
“I’m Suga when I’m with Bangtan,” Yoongi - Suga - grumbled, releasing my arms and backing away to lean against the sink.
“Oh, sorry. Sorry, mianhae. I’m still getting used to Korean - Hangukeo - and it’s a bit rusty, I should’ve looked over my translation book more on the plane but I was tired so I-”
Suga cut me off. “Gwaenchanha. It’s fine. They made us take foreign language courses during training. I understand English just fine… Unless you keep talking so quickly,” he said, with a wry smile.
“Sorry,” I said again, and mentally face-palmed. Could I be any more awkward? This was not going as planned. “I’m Taehyung’s friend? And, uh. I just thought I’d check on you because… uh. Well, this is dumb, I know, but my mom wanted a picture of me with the whole group, and, well. You’re part of the group.” I tried not to make it obvious that I was looking at (and judging) his BTS basketball jersey. It clearly didn’t work, and I felt my face grow hot as Suga pulled his leather jacket closer around his torso.
“Ne, I’ll be there. I just… I need a minute.” Suga turned to the sink, opening the tap and letting it run. I could just see his face in the mirror. He looked tired under the harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom. I bit my lip, unsure of whether I should leave or stay with him to make sure he came out eventually. The silence stretched out, broken by splashing as Suga washed first his hands, then splashed water on his face.
“They’ll kill you for that,” I noted.
“Mwo - what are you talking about?” Suga asked, looking over his shoulder at me, face still dripping.
I sighed and pulled a paper towel off the dispenser. “Your face. They put all that stage makeup on you. Look.” I dabbed his cheeks carefully, and showed him the towel. It was tan from the foundation they had smeared all over him.
“Ah, joj-dwaesseo!” Suga swore, grabbing the towel from me.
“No! You’ll only mess it up more,” I said, and took another towel. “Here, lean down.” I twisted up the corner of the towel and pressed it carefully underneath his eyes. “We have to be careful not to smear the eyeliner - that’ll be hardest to redo.” After a few more dabs, I stepped back to review my work. “There. You’re salvageable.”
Suga smiled, with just a hint of teeth, and I suddenly became aware of how close we were standing. I looked into his eyes just as they dropped down to my mouth. He took a step closer and my heart sped up. “Um!” I laughed, slightly hysterically. “Anyway! Everyone will be wondering where we are.”
As I led Suga back down the narrow hallway to the dressing area, I could practically feel the heat radiating off my ears. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I reached up to take my hair out of its ponytail. “Wait,” I heard from behind me. I turned. Suga had his hand outstretched. “It’s just...” He paused, gazing at me. “Your hair looks nice like that. You should keep it.” My entire face instantly went up in flames.
Suga moved his hand, which had been frozen in midair this entire time, to scratch the back of his head. As my eyes followed it, my gaze strayed to his arm, and the exposed bit of upper arm underneath the leather jacket… Stop it, I scolded myself. I couldn’t be eying up Min Yoongi. Like, Taehyung’s friend Min Yoongi. Then I realized: he was flexing. Actively making his arm look good. Repressing the urge to melt into the floor from embarrassment, I stole a glance at his face. He was slightly biting his lower lip, clearly eying me up in return, but, I noted, his cheeks were much pinker than they had been in the bathroom. We made eye contact, and he dropped his hand almost as quickly as I spun on my heel to continue walking. Neither of us, I knew, would mention this incident.
At long last, Mom grouped us together for the requisite photo. “Say Bangtan!” she called. “Bangtan!” we obediently chorused. The flash went off and the adults started laughing and joking among themselves as we blinked away the brightness.
“It’s cute,” a voice said next to me, and I started.
“What?”
“Cute,” Taehyung said again, gesturing at the adults. “How close they still are after so many years. Dad talks about your family all the time. His American friends, he calls you.”
I laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, Mom always has your Christmas cards up on the mantle... Weird to hear people calling you V, like a one-name celebrity. I always thought of you as your fifth grade school picture.”
He placed a hand to his chest and acted wounded. “Ani! Not the year of the braces!” He shook his head and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Anyway,” he said confidentially, “since you know about my skin pre-regimen, I’ll let you continue to call me Taehyung. V feels like a persona I put on for the stage, and I don’t want you to see me in that way.”
I was strangely touched. Suga had been so insistent that he be called Suga, when around the performance space. “Thank you,” I said. “I-” But I was cut off by a director hurrying over and rearranging Taehyung’s bangs.
“On in two,” she said, and Taehyung straightened.
“Watch for me out there,” Taehyung said, and gripped my hand. I nodded and smiled. His kind eyes met my own and crinkled into a smile before he nodded back. Releasing my hand, his face settled into what I would later come to call idol face and I knew that the transformation into V was complete. I followed the crowd of people and was shown where I could stand out of sight of the audience. Mom lined up behind me, and we settled in for the show.
Kim Taehyung was quite possibly the most beautiful boy I had ever or would ever lay eyes upon. And yet… my gaze kept slipping back to Suga. There was something about - and I know it sounds corny - the sway of his hips. I think Mom said something to me, once or twice, during the concert, but I didn’t take in a word of it. By the last song, I was jumping up and down with everyone out in the audience. Their stuff was kind of dumb, but, somehow, it worked. Their dance moves helped.
The rest of the week passed quickly. Mom and I did a bit of shopping and sightseeing, but mostly I hung around Taehyung. I followed him through his days, in the practice studio and onto interview sets. It was interesting to see the life of someone already settled into a career, instead of going to classes and college parties like me (and most other people that I knew).
During his breaks, Taehyung and I worked out a secret signal. It was a specific hand gesture (AN: no i’m not gonna tell you exactly what it was!! i have to keep some of my secrets!) that we could make from across the room. We initially used it to acknowledge that we were looking at each other (giving us free reign to then make gross faces towards the other). As you can imagine, that quickly devolved and by the end of the first day, the signal alone was enough to make the other burst into laughter.
Of course, it didn’t stay secret for long. Hoseok, it turned out, had an uncanny ability to memorize choreography after seeing it for only the briefest amount of time. He quickly taught it to the other members, who then tormented me by beginning a face-off every single time we ran into each other. Jimin had a special knack for finding me as I was about to enter the bathroom.
The last evening of our stay, Mr. Kim hosted dinner for us. When we arrived, I was surprised but pleased to see that he (or Taehyung) had invited the rest of the band as well. We ate until we were stuffed, and the party broke up into smaller groups as the adults drank soju and fell into reminiscing about the old days.
I ended up sitting between Jin and Yoongi as they cracked increasingly-hard-to-parse dad jokes. Every once in a while, my vocab lessons would come in clutch and I’d catch a pun and laugh along with them, which delighted the boys every time. Eventually, Jin either ran out of dad jokes or had had too much to drink. He got up and headed to the bathroom, leaving Yoongi and I alone.
“So…” I said, to break the lengthening silence. “Do you, uh… Play any instruments? Or do you just rap?”
“I play piano,” he replied.
“Really? Me too! I mean, I’m not very good, but I did take lessons.”
He grinned. “What’s your song? The one you go to over and over?”
“Fantasy in D Minor. It used to be Fur Elise, but I used a summer vacation to learn something new a couple years ago.”
“I would love to hear that sometime. I have a keyboard in my studio, if you have time to visit… Though I guess you’re leaving tomorrow. Maybe we could head there now?”
My heart fluttered. Was this a date? “Yes,” I said. “I mean, yeah. As long as you play for me, too.”
“It’s a date,” Yoongi smiled at me and I flushed. A date!
When we got to his studio, Yoongi gestured immediately to the piano. “Why don’t you play first?” he asked.
“I’m not very good without sheet music,” I said, face flushing.
“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.” He smiled encouragingly and I sat down. I stumbled my way through Fur Elise, deciding that Fantasy was a little too long for how unexpectedly fast my heart was racing at the thought of who my audience was. “I was right,” Yoongi said as I finished. “That was wonderful. Thank you.” I blushed again and scooched over on the bench.
“Your turn.”
Yoongi sat down slowly and stretched his arms over his head. He slowly lowered his hands to the keys and proceeded to play the most heartbreaking rendition of Chopin’s Prelude in E Minor that I had ever heard. My eyes were glued to his fingers at first, but slowly traveled up his forearms and to his deep-in-concentration face. His tongue was caught between his front teeth. I found myself surprised that someone could be so beautiful while doing something so normal. I looked back at his fingers just in time to catch the stretch for a complicated chord. I swallowed hard as a jolt like lightning ran through my body. Yoongi’s forearms flexed as he gently pressed the final chords and I looked back up into his face just in time to make eye contact as he lifted his eyes from the keys.
“That was beautiful,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone play that with such emotion before.”
“That piece got me through a lot. It brings up a lot of memories. A year or so ago, I got in a bike accident. A really bad one, I damaged my shoulder muscle. It took a long time to rehab, and the thought of never playing again scared me into taking really good care of it. For as long as I can remember, piano has been the thing I love the most. I really think that, if I hadn’t had the piano… I don’t think I would be here right now,” he said, quietly.
Without thinking, I covered his hand with mine. A discordant chord played as our fingers pressed down on the keys, which brought a small smile to Yoongi’s face.
For a moment we just stared into each other’s eyes. Then, very slowly, Yoongi leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him back and his free hand came up to lightly caress my cheek. As soon as his skin made contact with mine, I leapt away and began to pace. I had liked the kiss. I had really liked it.
“Is something wrong?” Yoongi asked from behind me.
“No! Nope!” I replied, turning back to him. I smiled widely to show that I was pleased before I continued past him in the other direction. Spinning on my heel again, I told him, without making eye contact, “That was my first kiss. I just - I’m surprised it happened. I need to process.”
“Was that… okay?”
“Yes! It was okay. I mean, it was good. It was weird. But really good! Just new.” I could tell I was starting to ramble again and shut my mouth before I said something that would make him not want to kiss me again.
“I guess being full of energy really is your norm,” he said, startling me into a laugh.
“I guess so! Or maybe you just bring out my nerves.”
“...Good,” Yoongi said, slowly, and stared at me. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched me, still wringing my hands. “Do you think I could do it again?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, and came closer to him. Our lips made contact once again, and this time I didn’t leap away. I leaned in. And it was magical. My first kiss(es)!
.
When Mom and I arrived back home, roughly 27 hours later, I called Taehyung in a dreamy haze.
“What’s up with you?” I could hear the laughter in his voice at how far away I clearly seemed.
“Well… you know how Yoongi and I left the party early the other night?”
“Yeah…”
“We, um. We kissed,” I said. There was a moment of silence. “Taehyung-ssi?”
“You what?”
“We kissed. Yoongi and I. Kissed.”
There was another, longer, moment of silence, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear to check that he hadn’t hung up. “Taehyung?” I asked.
“I’m going to kill him. I can’t believe he’d do that! I expressly told everyone that you were my friend and they couldn’t try anything with you.”
“Try anything?” I interrupted. “That’s not exactly-”
“No! It’s not fair. You clearly weren’t in your right mind. Don’t think I didn’t see the glass of wine you had at dinner. And Yoongi! That hyung - I mean -” Taehyung was ranting, clearly flustered by the news I had sprung on him.
“I kissed him back!” I protested. “I wanted it to happen too.”
“You! How could you know what you want? You barely know me that well, let alone any of the others. What will your mother say? She’ll think I’m in a group full of degenerates!”
“I think you’re overreacting a little.”
“Not to mention how much older he is than you! You’re still in school!”
“He’s only-” I quickly did the Korean to American age conversion, “like, two and a half years older than me! That’s nothing! He could be in school too, you know, if he wasn’t in Bangtan.”
“I don’t care. Stop seeing him.”
“What?!” I was aghast. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t see! You don’t have control over my actions!”
“I know I don’t control you, but-”
“No! No buts! You have no say over who I kiss, let alone the authority to forbid others to kiss me!”
“Yoongi -”
“And for your information, I think I know you better than any of those boys do! We’ve been talking since you were born!”
I hung up without waiting for a response.
For weeks afterward, we didn’t exchange a single word. This wouldn’t have been unusual, normally, but it was accompanied by constant pestering from our parents. My mother had clearly heard and shared my end of the argument with Mr. Kim; both parents were worried that this would drive a wedge between the families. I was asked daily what Taehyung was up to, as if I would be talking to him! We’ve only met once, technically, anyway.
One evening, as I was preparing to head back to school for the start of my sophomore year, I heard the phone ring. I snuck halfway down the stairs, hiding just out of sight of the living room door. I could see my mom as she paced back and forth on the portable landline.
“She really misses him,” she said. “She’s heartbroken about the fight… I agree, they have to do something to make up… Mhm… Oh, really?” I couldn’t take any more. I stalked back up the steps and slammed the door to my bedroom. What right did she have to butt into our lives - my life - like that?
About a month into the school year, I got an email from Mom, with the subject line, “Watch this.” Curious, I opened the link contained within. It was a Bangtan interview. Well, while I’m here… I thought, and settled in. A couple of them had changed their hair, and I spent the first little bit trying to decide whether I liked it this way or the old way better. Then something caught my attention and I leaned forward. Had Taehyung just - surely not? I rewound twenty seconds to confirm what I had seen. I gasped.
Taehyung looked into the camera, then made a brief hand gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said, pausing infinitesimally before dropping his hand and continuing, looking back at the reporter and bowing his head with a slight smile. “I am still learning English. Please repeat?”
Our signal! Did that mean that his words were meant for me? Was he apologizing? Wait. Mom told me to watch that interview. I called her immediately. “Was that what I thought it was? Do you know about the signal now too?”
“Yes, Kim Seokjin told me. He said Taehyung had been moping around the apartment and he couldn’t take it anymore. I guess he remembered the two of you kept doing it during shoots, and interrogated Taehyung about its meaning.”
“Well, only the two of us were supposed to know about it. It was just a stupid thing we did for fun that week.”
I could hear the smile in Mom’s voice as she replied, “Far be it from me to judge the inside jokes of a long friendship. You know what Mr. Kim and I are like.”
“Well… I guess I’d better call Taehyung, too. Let him know I received the message.”
“So you’ll be friends again?” Mom pressed.
“Yes, Mom. Your tactics worked. I’ll be friends again if he will.”
I hung up and stared at my phone for a minute. I knew that Taehyung had to be amenable to making up, but the thought of calling after such a long period of silence made me nervous. I decided to text first, and hoped that they were sleeping.
So, now that we’re friends again… can we talk about it?
He called me immediately.
“I really am sorry,” he said as soon as I picked up.
“Thanks.” Nothing else needed to be said. We breathed on the line for a minute, before I said, “I knew we wouldn’t be able to keep the signal secret for long.”
“Well, at least it’s secret from the fanbase, still.” We both laughed.
“I missed you,” I admitted.
“I missed you too. We all did.”
“All?” I questioned. “I don’t really know most of the others too well. Just Yoongi really.”
“Well… I guess the two of us wouldn’t stop talking about you, and now the others have decided that you’re their friend, too. Jin keeps threatening to text you when Yoongi or I are goofing off. He doesn’t even have your number! He says he’ll get it from my dad, I say…” Taehyung huffed. “Anyway, if you get a Kakao request, it’s probably Jungkook.”
“Okay… um, what were you and Yoongi saying about me?”
“We worked it out. I overreacted, but he admitted that he could’ve had more respect for my boundaries. We’re cool now. You can still,” he paused, and I knew in my heart that he was grimacing, “kiss him.”
I suppressed a smile and said, “Thanks. I think we’ll have to be physically together for that to happen, though. It might’ve been our last opportunity.”
“No,” Taehyung said immediately. “You’re visiting next summer.”
Okay then.