Work Text:
Time passes in an amorphous way while Yoongi is in his office. The heavy curtains over the windows block out any sunlight. The only illumination in the room is from a desk lamp and the glow of his computer monitors. His desk is covered in scraps of paper, half-eaten snacks, and multiple glasses of water, juice, and cold coffee. Even the ache in his shoulders from where they are hunched has dulled to a low thrum as he continues to edit, re-write, and revise his work.
The pressure has been on him since the success of his first novel and now he feels like that first book was a fluke. How did he ever string enough sentences together to form a cohesive narrative when it feels like he has forgotten how to write all together? His deadline is looming and he shut off his phone so his agent would stop needling him about the progress on his manuscript.
What progress?
He felt he had a solid outline when he started, but the more he wrote, the more the narrative revealed itself to be bigger than he intended. How can he do the characters in the story justice—? No, how can he do the reader justice if he doesn’t make the world he’s creating feel real? And how can he make anyone feel anything if he can’t translate his thoughts into words? Words that escape him and trip him at every turn. The urge to throw his hands up and admit defeat is only held at bay by his own determination to see this through. As long as he sits here and continues to pick at the novel, he can keep going.
Yoongi is so lost in his own thoughts, immersed fully with the words on the screen and how they aren’t the right words, that he doesn’t even realize there’s someone else in his apartment until the door to his office opens and startles him. He flinches against the intrusion of natural light and another living being’s voice.
“Hyung, are you in here?” Surely Taehyung isn’t shouting, but the first words that Yoongi has heard outside of his own head in who knows how long seem louder than bombs.
Frustration bubbles up in Yoongi’s chest. He can’t afford this distraction. His novel will never finish if he looks away from the screen for even a moment. “Tae, now is not a good time,” he hisses, attempting not to lose the thread of thoughts trying to escape him so they can’t be committed to the page. He continues to type away at the keyboard, not sure he’s even forming words anymore as his fingers fly across the keys.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Tae says, his voice full of concern. “How long have you been in here?”
“A few hours?” The guess seems off to even Yoongi given the pile of detritus around him, but it truly doesn’t feel like more than half a day. Not long enough is the obvious answer.
The sound of socked feet brushing over carpet approaches him, but Yoongi refuses to look up. “I think it’s time you took a break,” Taehyung says as a gentle hand places itself upon Yoongi’s shoulder.
He shrugs Tae off, unable to keep the growl out of his voice. “Not now,” he bites out. “I need to finish this stupid fucking book, and I can’t do it if I walk away.”
“Maybe a shower would help clear your thoughts,” Tae suggests instead. “Let’s take a break and air out this room.”
“Tae, I can’t!” Tears are building along Yoongi’s lash line and he blinks furiously to dispel them. He’s amazed they can even form given how dry his eyes have become from staring at the computer screen. “I need to finish this novel, or it’s all going to be fucked.”
Despite how harshly Yoongi is yelling at him, Taehyung’s voice stays smooth and calm. Low like a pleasant hum. “What’s going to be fucked? Surely the novel will still be here when you get back.”
The sob shudders through Yoongi, even if he manages to hold back the physical tears. “It won’t be,” he complains. “Even now the thoughts are slipping away from me and I can’t hold on to them long enough to fix the fucking thing.” His hands are trembling over the keyboard and the rest of Yoongi’s body feels frozen in place.
“Breathe,” Tae says calmly as he steps up behind Yoongi. He reaches around the back of Yoongi’s chair to wrap him in a hug, resting his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Just breathe, hyung.”
Yoongi takes a sharp inhale and it feels like his entire body gives in. He slumps in his chair, only being held in place by Taehyung’s arms. “I can’t do it,” he says, voice broken in defeat. “If I stop, I might never be able to write again.”
“That’s not true,” Tae whispers in his ear. “Come on. I think it’s time you got up and stretched your legs. Get some real food. Maybe even take a nap.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” he says more firmly.
The tears finally come as Taehyung pulls the computer chair away from the desk. With gentle, strong hands he coerces Yoongi out of the chair and his legs scream in protest at being forced to move after being stationary for so long. Too long.
“It’s over,” Yoongi groans. “I’m never going to finish the book.”
Taehyung hushes him, guiding him out of the office and down the hall towards the bathroom. “You told me two days ago that you’d finished the draft and were just doing an edit pass before you gave your agent the manuscript,” Taehyung points out as he guides Yoongi to sit on the toilet seat. “It can’t be that bad.”
Yoongi blinks, watching Taehyung move to the shower and start running the water. “Two days ago?” That doesn’t seem right. He texted Taehyung just before he started working on his edits. It can’t have been longer ago than last night.
“Yeah,” Tae says, letting the water run. “I came over because no one has heard from you since then. Namjoon has been texting everyone trying to get ahold of you.” He tests the water before turning back to Yoongi. Now that Yoongi gets a good look at his friend, he can see the worried lines across his forehead and the pout at his lips. “Take a shower. I’m going to go make you some real food. Deal?”
“Deal,” Yoongi grumbles, but doesn’t move. Taehyung pats him on the shoulder before slipping out of the bathroom and leaving Yoongi to his thoughts once more. How much time has passed?
As steam starts to fill the room, Yoongi peels off his clothes. Now that he knows how much time has passed, he feels dingy. It helps urge him into the shower. The hot water helps relax the muscles in his back he barely realized were so tense. The water pressure pounds away the knots and helps wash off two days of filth. Though, how dirty can one get when they barely move? It doesn’t matter, because either way Yoongi starts to feel more like a human being again by the time he shuts the water off. And with that comes a hunger pang, reminding him he hasn’t had more than coffee, juice, and snacks for the last few days. It’s the only thing that’s keeping him from collapsing into bed when he goes to put on fresh clothes. His hunger is aided by the smell of food wafting through his apartment from the kitchen.
With clean hair and a fresh change of clothes, Yoongi wanders into the kitchen. He isn’t even sure how Taehyung found enough ingredients to make something. When he’s in editing mode, he forgets to do things like buy groceries let alone cook and eat them. Yet, as he pulls up a stool at the breakfast bar, Taehyung is scooping rice into a bowl. The smell of cooked meat drifts from the stove.
“Where did you find food in my house?”
Taehyung chuckles. “I brought it with me,” he says, setting the bowl down in front of Yoongi before turning back to the stove. “I had a feeling you were going to need it.”
“Am I that predictable?” Yoongi frowns, reaching for the pitcher of water on the counter and pouring himself a glass.
“I have an unfair advantage,” Taehyung says over his shoulder, raising a hand to tap at his forehead.
“Oh, right,” Yoongi says. “Because you’re an oracle.”
Taehyung serves up Dakjjim into a bowl and turns to place it on the counter in front of Yoongi. “Shaman,” he corrects Yoongi. He then leans against the counter, propping himself up with his elbows and watching Yoongi. “Eat up.”
“Right,” Yoongi nods, and grabs his chopsticks to go directly for a chunk of chicken breast. In the sauce, the meat is tender and savory. He hums, enjoying his first taste of real food in days. “Shaman.”
“It’s true,” Taehyung argues, pushing himself off the counter seemingly satisfied that Yoongi is eating. He turns to start making himself a bowl of rice. “My grandma was a powerful shaman and my mom says I have her gift.”
“Sure,” Yoongi nods. It doesn’t hurt to let Taehyung think he has some special insight.
Rather than sit on the stool next to Yoongi, Taehyung leans against the kitchen bar once more, spooning some rice through the broth and eating it happily. “It’s true,” he says around the mouthful. “Apparently it goes all the way back to my great-great-great-grandma.”
“And how is it you’re so lucky to have gotten this gift?” Yoongi appeases Taehyung, if only because it’s the first human contact he’s had in apparently two days. Besides, Taehyung’s voice is soothing to listen to and helps distract him from the manuscript still begging for his attention.
“No girls in my generation?” Taehyung shrugs as if it’s a guess. “But I’ve always been able to get small glimpses of the future. My mom says I’m lucky that it’s all I get.”
Yoongi hums, realizing as he eats how Taehyung’s food soothes his stomach that had been cramped for far too long. He’d been so focused on his work, he hadn’t even noticed. “Why’s that?”
“I guess my grandma used to get messages from spirits and stuff.” Taehyung slowly eats his rice, letting Yoongi take the first pick of chicken and veggies. “I only get visions of people close to me. I could tell mom when it was going to rain so she could bring the laundry in. Or my brother if he was going to fail a test. Nothing big, but nothing insignificant either.”
“Have you ever seen anything bad?” Yoongi’s rice bowl is already almost empty as he scoops large chunks of chicken, potato, and carrot into it.
Taehyung goes quiet. He puts his bowl and spoon down on the counter and folks his hands. “I saw my grandmother’s funeral the day before she passed,” he says quietly. “I ran to her, hoping it was a bad dream, but she told me it wasn’t. That it was going to happen, but that I would be okay. That she had seen that. And she was right.” He gives a small smile and, even if the story seems far-fetched, Yoongi sees how much it means to him. “It hurt for a long time, but I’m okay. And though I miss her, I’m thankful she gave me this gift.”
Yoongi’s heart squeezes at the sentiment. He wonders what he would have done with a gift like that. Would it have been useful when his mom’s heart got sick? Or would it have been another thing to dread knowing it was coming? “Have you ever tried to use it to win the lottery or something?” He tries to make the mood lighter by asking the obvious question.
“No,” Tae laughs and picks up his spoon again. “It doesn’t exactly work like that. It’s not like I can get a vision of the numbers. It’s more like: if someone close to me is going to win, I can see them celebrating that victory.”
“Fair,” Yoongi grunts. “Let me know if I’m going to win the lottery, just so I can move and change my phone number ahead of time so people don’t bother me.”
Taehyung laughs and shakes his head. “Sure thing, hyung.”
They go back to eating quietly and Yoongi feels as if his whole body has begun to relax. A hot shower, fresh clothes, and a warm meal have done wonders that he didn’t even know he needed. But still, at the back of his mind, the manuscript is scratching like an animal trying to gain his attention.
Taehyung can’t seem to let the silence just hang, but he doesn’t seem to mind carrying on the conversation.
When they finish the meal, Yoongi is pleasantly full and feels revitalized. “Thanks, again, Tae,” he says, getting up and helping move the dishes to the sink to clean. “I didn’t even realize how badly I needed this.”
“It’s nothing, hyung.” Tae smiles, coming over to join Yoongi at the sink with his bowl. “I’ll clean the dishes, you should go rest.”
“But you cooked-”
“And I’ll clean. It’s okay,” Taehyung insists. He walks closer to Yoongi, gently pushing him away from the sink. “Besides, I’m good at cleaning dishes!” Before Yoongi can protest, Tae is turning on the water and putting on the dish gloves.
Yoongi feels a little awkward leaving his guest to take care of the dishes, but Taehyung seems set on taking care of him today. “Thanks, Tae. I should get back to my manuscript.”
“No!” Tae gasps and turns away from the sink, grabbing Yoongi’s elbow. The rubber glove squeaks against his skin. “You need to sleep.”
“It’s too early to sleep,” Yoongi points out, glancing at the clock. It’s just about lunch time.
He’s met with the largest puppy dog eyes when he glances back to Tae. “But you haven’t slept for two days,” Tae points out. “You need a nap. Your brain needs to rest. How else are you supposed to write?”
Yoongi pauses, turning Tae’s words over in his head. It’s good advice. The kind he would give to someone else. So why is he trying to ignore it? “Fine. But a short one.”
That just makes Taehyung smile widely, a huge boxy grin on his face. “Great! Take a nap and I’ll clean up. Sweet dreams, hyung.” And without waiting for Yoongi to acknowledge him, Tae turns back and starts doing the dishes.
Yoongi just hums and turns to walk down the hall to his bedroom. He has to pass his office as he goes and it takes all his willpower to keep walking and not return to his desk. Yet, Taehyung is right. His muscles may have loosened and his stomach may be full, but his mind still feels like static. A nap will help give him the reset that he needs.
Without evening turning the light on, Yoongi shuffles into his bedroom and collapses face first onto the bed. As soon as his head hits the pillow, it feels like sleep is a black hole pulling him into its gravity. Yet the darkness that envelops him isn’t the oblivion he is hoping for.
Instead of pleasant slumber, his anxiety around his manuscript becomes half-waking dreams of everything that can go wrong. From a blackout causing a short in his computer and destroying his latest updates to the manuscript to his agent telling him everything he’s been working on for months is garbage and has to be thrown out. He dreams of the book getting published and bombing in sales. That his career is decimated because of one bad book and he had to go back to slinging coffee or selling groceries just to make ends meet. It feels as if he’s tumbling down a blackhole of worse and worse case scenarios.
“Hyung? Hyung, wake up!” Hands are shaking him and Yoongi is pulled from the spiral of his dark thoughts.
Blinking, Yoongi rolls onto his side and finds Taehyung sitting on the edge of the bed looking at him with worried eyes. “Huh? What?” A yawn bubbles out of him and Yoongi finds himself wiping a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth.
“You sounded like you were having a bad dream,” Tae says, one hand still stroking Yoongi’s arm as if to soothe him. “I came in and you were groaning into your pillow. Are you okay?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “I was doom-spiraling,” Yoongi admits, rubbing his face. He takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back to look up at Taehyung. “You said you can see glimpses of the future. Can you give me just a little peek? Let me know that it’s not going to end badly. Or if it is. I don’t care anymore. The not-knowing is what’s driving me up the wall.”
Taehyung’s face softens. He leans forward and brushes his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, pushing the fringe back from his forehead. “Are you sure?” he asks softly. Yoongi just nods and Tae takes a deep breath. He holds out his hand over Yoongi’s chest, palm up. “Okay. Give me your hand. It’ll help me focus on you.”
“Oh, okay.” Yoongi takes his hand and holds it to his chest, watching Taehyung’s face closely.
Slowly, Yoongi watches the tension melt out of Taehyung’s face and shoulders. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “I see…”
Silence hangs and Yoongi finds himself holding his breath, waiting for Taehyung’s conclusion.
Taehyung’s eyes blink open. As he meet’s Yoongi’s eyes, a smile grows on his face. “I see that it’s going to be great. You’ve put so much work into it, and you’re closer to done than you think you are. Your effort will be rewarded. I can see it, hyung.”
The breath he is holding lets out in a whoosh. And with it goes all of the nerves and uncertainty. Emotions Yoongi has been trying to keep tamped down burst forth and he feels tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Relief. “Thank you, Taehyung.”
Squeezing his hand, Tae’s eyes get misty as well. “Of course, hyung. Do you think you can get some rest now?”
Yoongi nods. “Yeah. I think I can. You’ve worked hard today, too, Tae. Wanna take a nap with me?”
“Only if we get to cuddle!” Taehyung climbs over Yoongi and wraps his arms around him before Yoongi can agree.
Laughing, Yoongi feels comforted by Tae’s weight settling against him. Already, sleep is tugging at his consciousness. “Just for a little while,” he says.
“Sure thing, hyung. Sleep well.” Tae tucks his head against Yoongi’s shoulder.
“You, too,” Yoongi says, sleep pulling him under. This time rest truly finds him. The last thing he remembers thinking is a promise to himself. When he wakes up, he’ll send the manuscript to Namjoon and let it go for the time being. It’ll be easier to make fixes if he can target problems rather than trying to fix the entire manuscript at once. Knowing that his effort won’t be wasted is all Yoongi needed to finally let go. He’s grateful for his friends.