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December had just started, but Christmas had been all over New York for a while, even if the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade had only happened the week before.
Curled up on the windowsill, forehead pressed against the cold glass and hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea, Taehyung watched the snowflakes dancing outside and settled on the scarves and hats of the people who invaded every available inch of sidewalk, a disorderly mass in which everyone had a different destination and purpose, and somehow still managed to keep moving all the same. It was fascinating, hypnotising almost.
It soothed Taehyung to feel the outside world attuned to his personal winter, and scared the shit out of him at the same time.
The necessary accessories to survive the harsh New York cold served as an excellent disguise, but also protected those who had not yet given up on finding their scoop, foam at the mouth. Out there, the world was still wondering, still wanted to know.
248 days.
One would think that the industry had more than enough celebrities to keep people entertained with shenanigans and scandals. But no. Eight months, three weeks and some days later, the mystery of Kim Taehyung – a prodigy actor from South Korea who had taken the industry by storm and, at 28 and the peak of his career, had suddenly given up everything – still held the public in its grip. The press had only very recently stopped behaving like a pack of bloodhounds, just peppering him with questions if Taehyung was unlucky enough to be recognised somewhere.
Taehyung sipped the last of his tea and looked down into the empty mug, a displeased expression on his face.
“I guess no more excuses,” he mumbled, uncurling his body until he could stand, wincing slightly at the sensation of ants crawling on his legs.
He padded through his small place, changing into thicker clothes and making a quick stop in the bathroom to relieve himself and half-heartedly threading his fingers through his unkempt, dark hair. He moved to the entrance door and put on his boots, then slipped on the thick, white, padded jacket. After carefully wrapping a long scarf many times around his neck until the bottom half of his face was completely hidden behind it, he pulled a woollen beanie over his head and ears, grabbed his phone, keys and wallet, and left the apartment.
Taehyung paused in front of the building's door, the last barrier separating him from the outside world. Despite the time passed and the many changes in apartments, he still couldn't shake the fear that a reporter was waiting for him on the other side. To this day, a flashing light somewhere made him jump, even though he no longer felt the suffocating panic of the last period of his career and the hunt that had ensued since his retirement.
Inhaling deeply, Taehyung opened the door and closed his eyes against the freezing gush of air that hit him. He slipped through the threshold quickly and pulled the door closed behind him before pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. People walked everywhere, nobody paid attention to him, and the young man’s shoulders relaxed.
“Right. Tea,” he spoke against his scarf, and confidently slipped into the mass of people.
In his time in the Big Apple, Taehyung had learned the locals' technique. It was a delicate game of anticipating trajectories and identifying corridors and spaces. At first, it had required great concentration, but by now Taehyung's body had mastered all the secrets, and the few times he bumped into anyone, they were wide-eyed, uncertain, lost tourists.
Taehyung reached his favourite local mart and made quick work of finding everything that he needed, which, he realised, was a little more than just coffee. He considered himself incredibly lucky to have this small, unassuming Korean place within a decent walking distance, which could satisfy his never-ending craving for instant ramen. The first time he had stepped in, the owners – an elderly couple who had lived in New York for decades – had been shocked. But when Taehyung had begged them not to tell anyone about his presence, the two had agreed easily. Now, they treated him like a grandson.
“You sure you have everything, Taehyung-ah?” The older man asked, scanning the products and eyeing them at the same time. “It’s been a while since I saw you buying something healthier.”
“I’m good, yeonggam,” Taehyung answered with a smile. “This is just comfort food.”
The man looked at him unimpressed. Instead of asking for the money, he disappeared to the back of the store, only to return a few minutes later with a plastic bag filled with a few single-use containers.
“This is comfort food, Taehyung-ah,” the older man deadpanned, approaching him and pushing the bag against his chest unequivocally. The scent of japchae, beef and kimchi immediately filled Taehyung’s nostrils, making his mouth water.
“Yeonggam, I can’t–” Taehyung tried feebly, but a sharp click of tongue stopped him immediately.
“You can and you will. I won’t have my wife yelling at me because I let you go away with only instant rameyon and tea to sustain yourself,” the man scolded him before returning behind the counter and packing the shopping.
Taehyung knew better than to challenge the elderly couple, so he paid for his purchases, bowed deeply in thanks, and listened to another series of recommendations. Finally, he left the store, the bag with the food containers carefully held safe in both hands, while the other dangled from his wrist. The smell of still-warm food seemed to overcome the cold air and push its way through the thick fabric of his scarf, and Taehyung found himself picking up his pace, eager to get home and silence the growling in his stomach.
When he reached the door of his building, his gaze was as always drawn to the shop that was located directly below his apartment—a bookstore. It was nothing grand, but it was Taehyung’s favourite place in the whole of New York, with its red double door and the warm, wooden shelves filling the space. The owner was a middle-aged woman born and raised in the Big Apple who, like the elderly couple, had quickly overcome the shock of having The Kim Taehyung frequenting her store and given him not just privacy, but a place to rest when he needed a break from the four walls of his apartment.
Taehyung looked down at the containers of food, then again at the red doors. He needed to check if the book he had ordered had arrived, as it would have been an excellent accompaniment to food. After a few seconds of debating whether it was worth going up to the apartment and putting down the food or going straight in, Taehyung opted for the latter and closed the short distance to the bookstore entrance. The bell rang with a joyful tinkle as he passed, and Taehyung was immediately enveloped in the warmth and scent he loved so much. It was hard to describe, that aroma composed of paper, wood and teacups, but it gave him an immediate peace.
“Hello, welcome,” the familiar voice said from somewhere between the bookshelves. “I’ll be with you in a second.”
Taehyung smiled and approached the counter, putting the bags on top of it, careful not to displace anything. Then, he reached into the layers of scarf enough to loosen it a bit around his neck and free the lower part of his face, and pulled off his beanie, his other hand immediately going to ruffle his hair as if by habit.
“Take your time, Emma,” he said, eyes roaming lazily over the covers of the books on display nearby.
“Hah, if it’s not one of my favourite persons!” The woman’s voice returned. “Here for your book, I assume? You’re lucky, it has arrived this morning. I’ll get it to you right now.”
A thrill of contentment ran down Taehyung’s spine, and he couldn’t help but let part of that joy turn into a bit of cheekiness. “Not your favourite overall? I’m hurt.”
Emma's laughter, high-pitched and contagious, spread through the store, fading as she made her way toward the back room that served as storage. Taehyung grinned and turned to face the counter again, leaning forward as if to rest his forearms on the wooden surface, and in the rotation, a figure that until then must have been behind him entered the edge of his field of vision. Caught off guard, Taehyung couldn't help but jump with a strangled cry of surprise, jerking slightly away, head snapping to take in the newcomer.
It was a man, at first glance, just a little younger than Taehyung. He was undoubtedly Korean, with brown hair that caressed his jawline in unruly waves, a cute, rounded nose, and large, inquisitive doe eyes that intently watched him. Taehyung could only stare back, and he saw the exact moment when recognition sparked in them like a small supernova—his greatest fear. Before he could say anything, however, the stranger pursed his lips in a slight pout and looked at him up and down, his thick eyebrows dipping toward the centre in a frown.
“I thought you were taller, you know?” The young man said, voice melodic and completely unbothered.
Taehyung was so taken aback that he didn't know what to say other than, “...Excuse me?”
The stranger shrugged. “You looked taller on screen,” he clarified, as if he were having the most mundane conversation. His attention turned away from Taehyung to eye the bags on the counter with interest. “That smells delicious. Where did you buy it?”
“The– huh– Korean little shop nearby,” Taehyung answered, still in disbelief. “At the corner with 2nd Avenue to the right?”
“Are you asking me?” The man asked, a note of amusement in his voice. Taehyung could feel the blush rising to his face, and the other giggled, a sound that wormed its way straight into Taehyung’s brain. “Just kidding. Thanks. It made me hungry. Please tell Emma I'll see her later.”
With that and a bow of his head, the young man turned on his feet, quickly approaching the door.
“Wait!” Taehyung called, a sudden panic gripping his chest. “Please, don’t tell anyone–”
The stranger stopped with his hand on the door handle and turned his head to look at him. “Tell what?” he asked.
“That– you saw me,” Taehyung pushed out of his constricted throat.
The young man didn’t answer immediately. His large eyes roamed again on Taehyung’s face, his expression serious. Then, he pulled the door open just slightly and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
And just like that, he was gone, the echo of the bell dying in the silence.
“Is that a customer?” Emma’s breathless voice reached Taehyung just a few moments before the woman rounded the corner of a bookshelf and came into sight, carrying a paper bag in the nook of an arm.
“No,” Taehyung answered, his eyes darting between Emma and the door, “It was the young man who was here?” It came out as a question, even if it wasn’t one. “He said he will see you later.”
“Ah, he’s gone?” Emma replied, her head cocked to one side, and her free hand came up to her hip. “Always running around, that one.” Then, almost as if she could read something on Taehyung’s face, she smiled kindly. “Did he recognise you?”
Taehyung nodded mutely, worry still swirling inside his head.
“Don’t you worry, Taehyung,” Emma soothed. “Jungkook is a good kid. He’s the son of one of my dearest friends. We know each other from University, and I’m a sort of aunt for that young man. When he becomes too cocky, I just remind him that I changed his diapers. You should see how red the tips of his ears become.”
“Is he around often?” Taehyung asked, still trying to gauge the risk. He would hate having to move.
“He lived elsewhere, but he has quit his job and returned home. He said he will take some time to decide what he wants to do next.” When Taehyung didn’t reply, Emma handed him the paper bag. “Here’s your book. And don’t worry. I will tell him that I expect extreme confidentiality from him.”
Taehyung smiled and thanked the woman with a polite bow, then took his leave. The sudden encounter had shaken him a little, and all he craved now was the security of his small place, the comfort of his food, and to immerse himself in another reality, one where he didn’t have to constantly watch behind his back just because he wanted to breathe.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Despite his fears, the next few days passed with no one showing up at his door, no reporters trying to ambush him on his doorstep or in the vicinity of his apartment, and his favourite places remaining blissfully peaceful.
Taehyung saw Jungkook two more times in the bookstore, but the young man didn't show any signs of having seen him, as he was busy moving boxes and cataloguing books. Emma didn't try to force an introduction, which Taehyung was very grateful for, and simply explained that Jungkook had offered to help since he had time. And it seemed like the brief conversation that had taken place on the first day would remain a one-off, until one day Taehyung lifted his head from the beanbag he was snuggled in, in the sheltered back corner that Emma had designated as his reading room for when he wanted to be out of his apartment, and found Jungkook leaning against the doorframe with one shoulder, arms folded across his chest, watching him silently.
When Taehyung’s eyes met his, Jungkook didn’t recoil in surprise nor show any embarrassment. Instead, as if it were his cue, he tilted his head and said, “You are not a coffee person, am I wrong?”
Taehyung, taken by surprise, stared back, his lips parting slightly around words that didn’t come out. Jungkook, not at all thrown off by the lack of response, shrugged lightly.
“No coffee person would have stayed holed up for hours without needing at least one cup, so I made an educated guess. What are your thoughts regarding hot chocolate?”
Taehyung struggled to comprehend what was happening. Half the world, if not more, probably knew that he disliked the bitter taste of coffee but found hot chocolate to be a more appealing beverage. Was Jungkook making fun of him? Yet the expression on the young man's face was serious, his eyes honest.
And Taehyung found himself answering in a tentative voice, “I like it. Not the dark one. But I like it.”
Jungkook hummed and nodded. “Team ‘yes marshmallows’ or ‘no marshmallows’?”
Taehyung’s corner of the mouth twitched instinctively. “Yes marshmallows.”
Jungkook nodded again. “Want to take a walk? There’s a place that serves a hot chocolate with marshmallows that's the end of the world. No fancy chains or touristy places. A little gem that I feel like sharing after you shared with me where that delicious food came from.”
Taehyung hesitated. He hated that mistrust and the need to prevent a trap had become such a prominent part of him, but at the same time, there was nothing he could do about it. It was the result of his years in the stardom, of the countless times that his sociable and outgoing nature had been used against him.
Once again, Jungkook didn’t seem to take the hesitation to heart. “You can cover your face as you please. The place is small and doesn’t have seats. It’s one of its charms: you get your chocolate and you can taste it wherever you like. Imagine finding solace in the midst of a bustling crowd, transforming the noise into a backdrop for your moment of peace. Or in the silence of your place, where, if you quiet your mind, you might just hear the gentle sound of steam rising from your cup.”
Something fluttered in Taehyung’s chest at Jungkook’s words. Maybe some of his surprise showed on his face because Jungkook’s ears turned suspiciously red, and he diverted his eyes, pushing his lower lip slightly forward.
“Are you a writer?” Taehyung enquired before he could think better.
Jungkook snorted, but it wasn’t derisive. “I wish,” he only said, and there was a wistfulness in his tone that struck a chord in Taehyung.
“I asked because you sounded so…poetic.” It was a split-second decision, but Taehyung closed the book he had on his lap and freed himself from the comfortable embrace of the beanbag as gracefully as a seal, the soft filling causing him to lose his footing multiple times. When he could finally stand, Jungkook’s shoulders were shaking silently, his head suspiciously turned away, and one hand massaging the side of his neck.
“Rude,” Taehyung murmured under his breath before moving to recover his coat from the chair where he had draped it.
“Are you leaving?” Jungkook asked, and Taehyung looked over his shoulder to find the young man now sobered, fighting the disappointment that pressed to come to the forefront of his round eyes.
“I thought you said you would share with me where to get the best hot chocolate around,” Taehyung replied, wrapping his scarf around his neck.
Jungkook’s eyes became huge. “Wait, real– I mean– Sure. Of course. Let me get my coat.”
Jungkook turned on his heel and rushed off somewhere, and Taehyung took a moment to think about why he had accepted. It could be a ruse. Jungkook could have had a connection with a reporter and been paid to lure Taehyung away from his safe circle. But even to his ears, the idea sounded stupid. There was close to zero possibility that Taehyung would accept an invitation from a virtual stranger. And Jungkook was a stranger, one who hadn’t even directly introduced himself so far. So why accept?
Taehyung decided to trust Emma and his instinct, although it was confusing. Steeling himself, he grabbed the coat and went in search of Jungkook.
───※ ·❆· ※───
They walked through secondary roads, away from the Christmas frenzy and the impenetrable crowd on pavements. Jungkook didn't say a word, beanie letting the soft curls of his hair peek from underneath the hem, and his hands pushed deeply into the pockets of his jacket. He walked calmly, as if he had all the time in the world, doe eyes looking around curiously as if he could see things hidden from anyone else. Taehyung walked next to him, the lower part of his face buried into the layers of his scarf, and his trusted woollen cap with ears pulled down on his head to the point that it covered his eyebrows. He was aware that his eyes were his most prominent feature, with their mismatched eyelids and the characteristic mole on his lower lid, so he kept them on the pavement whenever he wasn’t busy glancing sideways towards Jungkook.
It took about twenty minutes to reach their destination, and for the whole time, Taehyung felt the awkwardness of the silence clash against the soothing feeling of being in company. He couldn’t remember the last time he took a walk with someone.
Jungkook stopped a couple of metres away from an unassuming glass door with an elegant sign that spelt "Choco Heaven." A few people formed an orderly line in front of the shop, and Jungkook assessed them thoughtfully before speaking for the first time since they left the bookstore.
“Wait for me,” he said simply before stepping forward and reaching for the display case to the side of the door, pulling a laminated folder from its inside. Then, he retraced his steps and offered it to Taehyung. “Here. It’s the menu with the options. Choose your favourite and let me queue and grab it, so you don’t have to worry.”
Taehyung’s heart did something a little painful in his chest. It was truly considerate from Jungkook, and Taehyung wasn’t sure what to do with his random act of kindness, or with the exhilarating feeling of being treated like a normal person within the limits allowed by the situation. So, he did what he could, which was browsing the menu before settling on a tempting Cookies and Cream hot chocolate with marshmallows.
“But I should be the one paying,” Taehyung said, patting his pockets to search for his wallet.
“And how so?” Jungkook enquired, arching an eyebrow.
Taehyung stopped mid-action and lifted his eyes to meet Jungkook’s, a little taken aback. “I– You look younger than me? I thought– I mean–”
“Well, that’s flattering,” Jungkook acknowledged, expression thoughtful. “I guess I didn’t introduce myself properly, if at all.” He reached out to offer his hand. “Jeon Jungkook, 26 years old, born in Busan and grew up in New York.”
Taehyung took in the information and bit his lower lip lightly to keep the smile that threatened to blossom at bay. He brought a gloved hand up to clasp the offered one. “Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”
There was a beat of silence where neither of them let go before Jungkook tilted his head to one side. “So?”
Taehyung frowned. “So what?”
“So, are you older or not?”
Taehyung blinked multiple times and let go of Jungkook’s hand, pushing his again into the pocket, shoulders drawing up defensively. “Are you making fun of me?” He asked, low and slightly hurt.
Jungkook shook his head, a serious expression on his face. “On the contrary. I’m giving you the respect I would give to anyone I've just met. I don’t know you. I know of you . It’s not the same.”
Something as simple as being treated like anyone shouldn’t have brought tears to Taehyung’s eyes. He blinked them away quickly, diverting his gaze to the side, and Jungkook was kind enough to pretend not to see them. Taehyung took a deep breath to ground himself, the air cold even through the layers of wool, before turning towards Jungkook and grasping his hand again, still suspended in mid-air where Taehyung had left it.
He glanced around to ensure there was nobody nearby before murmuring just for the two of them, “Kim Taehyung, 28 years old, born in Daegu and moved to the US six years ago.”
Jungkook’s mouth split into a large, beautiful smile that made his front teeth stand out. He looks like a bunny, Taehyung thought for a moment.
“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook replied, and once again, Taehyung was touched by his thoughtfulness in not repeating the name. “So you are indeed older than I. Can I call you hyung?”
Taehyung nodded before doubts and fears could even whisper in his mind.
“Great. Then, hyung, we will make an exception to the rule this time, as I invited you. Next time, it will be your treat.”
Jungkook turned on his heel and walked away, whistling to get in line before Taehyung had time to respond. Taehyung snorted softly and leaned his back against the adjacent wall. Closing his eyes, he tried to keep at bay the small sprout of hope that had peeped out in his chest at the mention of "next time."
───※ ·❆· ※───
“Let’s go.”
Taehyung lifted his eyes from the book and found Jungkook leaning against the doorframe, his one shoulder propped up, arms folded across his chest, watching him silently. The feeling of déjà vu was immediate.
“Where?” Taehyung asked, confused.
“To the park. Come on.”
Taehyung blinked. “Jungkook, it’s been snowing since yesterday.”
“Exactly,” Jungkook answered cryptically, pushing away from the doorframe to walk into the backroom and towards Taehyung’s coat. “The park will be deserted. A perfect chance.”
Taehyung let the book drop into his lap, bewildered. “A chance for wha–umpf,” words cutting off when his coat landed on his head.
“Less talking, more action, hyung,” Jungkook chirped, approaching the wriggling mass under the long padded coat, hooking his hands where he knew Taehyung's armpits were and helping the yelping man up from the beanbag.
Ten minutes later, they were out in the chilly afternoon air, large snowflakes falling thickly from the sky like angels' feathers. Not even the snow could really stop the frantic rush for Christmas presents in New York, but the sidewalks were emptier than on other days. With the crunching sound of snow under their soles, Jungkook turned to look at a festively decorated store window.
“How are you doing with your Christmas shopping, hyung?” He enquired absentmindedly. “Maybe I can help if you need to go somewhere specifically.”
When no answer came, Jungkook moved his head towards Taehyung and found him looking down at the pavement. His mouth and nose were again buried into the scarf, and he couldn’t decipher his expression. “Hyung?”
Taehyung seemed to snap out of it, and his eyes crinkled into a smile that didn't reach them. “I have nobody to buy presents for, so I don’t need any Christmas shopping. But thank you, Jungkookie. It was very kind of you to offer.”
It was Jungkook's turn to remain silent. He neither addressed the nickname that had slipped through Taehyung’s lips nor the answer he had given. If he had questions - and Taehyung was sure he did - he kept them to himself. Taehyung was grateful once again for the thoughtfulness and kindness of this young man who owed him nothing and yet respected him far more than many people who had known him much better and called themselves his friends.
Once again, the walk was silent after that short exchange, but it didn’t feel awkward anymore. Taehyung was surprised to realise how comforting Jungkook’s mere presence in his day had become. It had been a week since the hot chocolate, and Taehyung had been in his corner of the bookstore more often than in his own house. He hadn’t particularly thought about the reason why, but chatting with Emma and Jungkook’s quiet presence made him feel less isolated. There had been some bantering and some harmless chit-chat, but overall, Jungkook had left him to his books.
Until today.
Taehyung knew where their steps were taking them even before the road gave way on the immense green space of Central Park. Jungkook didn't even slow down before grabbing Taehyung's wrist and stepping into the stalled traffic with the nonchalance of someone who knows he doesn't even have to look to cross the street. Taehyung made a mental note of the feeling of gentle constriction around his wrist above the sleeve of his puffer jacket, and for a brief moment, he wished he could feel the grip on his skin. Jungkook had begun to be more tactile around Taehyung, but there hadn’t been a time when there hadn’t been any fabric involved, not even a brush of hands. Jungkook was always incredibly respectful, even in his playfulness, and Taehyung appreciated it. Which was why this sudden regret came as a surprise to him.
Soon enough, they left behind the engines' noise and the irritated honks, until they were surrounded only by silence and snow. As Jungkook had theorised, the park was mostly deserted, with only a few people who were walking hastily as close as possible to its borders to reach their destinations, and a few small groups of children playing snowballs under the watchful eyes of their freezing parents. The further they went inland, the fewer people they encountered. When they reached the lake, there wasn't a living soul in sight.
The landscape seemed enchanted, with the thick snow continuing to fall in soft flakes and the pristine white expanse covering the ground as far as the eye could see, enveloping the evergreens and the skeletal remains of the unadorned trees. The silhouettes of the buildings were lost in the thick snowfall, and the warm lights lit in their windows gave the impression of a thousand lanterns suspended in the sky.
Jungkook led them towards Bow Bridge, and as soon as they stepped onto it, he giggled. Taehyung turned to look at him curiously. Jungkook hopped forward a couple of steps and turned on his heels to face Taehyung, mischief in his doe eyes, before he started singing.
“Everybody wants to live happily ever after.
Everybody wants to know their true love is true”
He looked to the side and pushed out an arm dramatically, expression exaggeratedly longing.
“How do you know he loves you?
How do you know he's yours?”
Taehyung stared, mouth slackened. Jungkook had a beautiful voice, versatile and powerful, with an ethereal quality in his higher register. It echoed in the deserted park, sounding like an angel. He was so dumbfounded that he realised how close Jungkook suddenly was only when the younger man pulled him towards himself, taking possession of one of his gloved hands while his other hand circled Taehyung’s waist without tightening the hold too much. Jungkook winked and started dancing, improvising a clumsy waltz.
“Well, does he take you out dancing
Just so he can hold you close?
Dedicate a song with words meant just for you?”
Laughter started bubbling in Taehyung’s chest. He followed Jungkook’s lead, feeling the snow giving way under their footsteps. He used the free hand to loosen the scarf around his neck until it fell in a soft wave on his chest, freeing his nose and mouth, then put it on Jungkook’s shoulder to balance himself better. Jungkook kept singing, mouth stretched in a huge smile that made his eyes crinkle in slits.
“He'll find his own way to tell you
With the little things he'll do
That's how you know
That's how you know he's your love
He's your love
He's your love”
Another emotion swelled in Taehyung’s chest, but he ignored it. It was nothing, just the reenactment of a movie scene—no big deal. He also pushed down the sadness that thought caused him and let the laughter pass instead, before joining in the song.
“That's how you know he loves you
That's how you know it's true”
They ended up almost screaming the last word before dissolving into a peal of laughter, gasping with their foreheads resting on each other's shoulders as they caught their breath. When Jungkook let him go, Taehyung silently acknowledged the brief pang of longing, blaming the prolonged lack of human warmth.
“Your voice is beautiful, hyung,” Jungkook said almost breathlessly. “So deep and warm, like hot chocolate.”
Taehyung blushed and ducked his head instinctively, but there was no scarf to cover him. “You are one to talk. You sing like an angel. I can’t believe you are not a professional singer.”
Jungkook laughed. “I’ve heard it all my life, but it’s a career that never appealed to me.”
“So what was your job?” Taehyung asked, realising he didn’t know much at all about Jungkook.
The younger man smiled a little and nudged his head towards the bridge in an invitation, then began walking. Taehyung immediately got into step.
“You said ‘was’, so I assume you talked to Emma or she talked to you.” At Taehyung’s again blushing cheeks, Jungkook grinned. “That’s okay. It’s not a secret, and I assumed you might have asked after our first encounter. I was a CFO for a big company in LA.”
“A CFO??” Taehyung exclaimed loudly before slamming his gloved hands on his mouth, eyes wide. When Jungkook exploded in high-pitched laughter, Taehyung groaned. He removed his hands only to pinch the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “I’m so sorry. It’s just– I struggle to see you as a CFO. You– I mean, you look so…artistic?”
“Right?” Jungkook grinned. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed my job and worked hard to achieve that level. However, once up there, having dealt with numbers and finances for years began to take its toll. So I stepped back.”
“You’re so young,” Taehyung commented, slightly in awe. “You must have worked so hard.”
“So have you, and you also stepped back when you've reached the top,” Jungkook said gently.
And Taehyung tensed, expecting the question. But it never arrived. Instead, Jungkook pointed at the snow covering the grass on the other side of the bridge, which they had almost completely crossed.
“How long has it been since the last time you played snow angels?” Jungkook asked, and it threw off Taehyung once again.
“Wha–hey!” Taehyung yelped when Jungkook grabbed his hand this time and, laughing his heart out, pulled him into a run.
They nearly slipped more than once, but Jungkook never slowed down until he reached the area where there would be a lawn. Once there, he spun around, still holding Taehyung's hand, and the latter felt his breath punched out of his lungs at the sight of Jungkook’s face flushed from the cold and exercise, his eyes shining as if entire constellations lived inside them, and the way snowflakes decorated his beanie and the waves of his hair out in the open.
“Come on, hyung!” Jungkook yelled before letting himself fall, sitting, pulling Taehyung down through their connected hands.
Taehyung stumbled, and he would have probably fallen very awkwardly face-first into the snow if Jungkook hadn't caught his fall, his hands grabbing Taehyung around the waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world and spinning him around until the older man was sitting next to him. Then, Jungkook fell backwards, until he lay face up in the snow, sweeping his arms and legs, a huge grin on his face.
Taehyung contemplated him for a moment, thinking back to their previous conversation. There it was, a person like him, who had reached the top of his career and hadn’t found happiness, and had simply decided to let go. Of course, he didn’t have the same level of visibility, so Jungkook hadn’t had anyone stalking him and invading his privacy at every step for months with the obsessive curiosity people have when they see someone they envy give up the life they want. Yet Taehyung somehow felt incredibly close to him, as if Jungkook was someone who could understand.
Maybe, another day, he could try.
“Why did you say you wished?” he asked, looking down at Jungkook from his still-sitting position, not caring about his trousers getting soaked from the snow.
“Huh?” Jungkook stopped mid-action and looked up, scrunching his nose when a snowflake fell on it.
“When I asked you if you were a writer, you answered ‘I wish’,” Taehyung clarified.
“Ah, that.” Jungkook resumed his sweeping, now slow and rhythmic. “An old dream of mine—writing a novel. I've always loved writing stories, ever since I was a child.”
“Why didn’t you try?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head.
“In my appa’s words: ‘You should focus on a real job that makes you earn real money and can give you a good life’,” Jungkook said, switching to a deeper tone of voice to pronounce his father’s words. There was no hint of a grudge in his tone or expression. “And well, they paid for my education, so…”
Taehyung hummed, turning his head forward, eyes lost in nothing. Then, with a sigh, he let himself fall backwards in the snow. He shivered when some found its way to the skin of his neck, and in reaction, he immediately began to sweep his arms and legs to keep himself warm. “You should try now, you know? During this break,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“And you?” Jungkook asked instead of addressing Taehyung’s words. “Was acting always your dream? Or did you want to do something else?”
Taehyung rolled the question over in his mind without stopping his movements. “I have always been fascinated by the actors and actresses in dramas or movies—the way the same people could portray such different roles, a bit like living a thousand other lives. It looked like so much fun.”
“Was it?” Jungkook asked curiously.
“Sometimes,” Taehyung replied in an unusual spur of honesty. He didn’t add anything to it, sure that Jungkook would now pose the fateful question, and wondering if he would answer or give in to the fight-or-flight instinct.
Once again, Jungkook surprised him by asking instead, “Did you ever have a plan B, then? Something you would have loved to try if you hadn’t succeeded?”
Taehyung huffed in slight amusement, noticing how he still hadn't gotten used to the way Jungkook always managed to do or say something different from what anyone else would have done or said in his place. And although this was something he had never shared publicly, keeping it close to his heart, he deemed it fair to thank Jungkook for always being so tactful by sharing this precious detail with him.
“I guess I would have tried to become a photographer,” Taehyung said, a rueful smile bending his lips. “I always loved taking pictures of what struck me. My teacher used to say that I had a very keen eye and a peculiar way of looking at the world.”
Jungkook said nothing, and even that had become comforting. Taehyung knew that his silence was different from what he had been accustomed to in stardom. It didn't imply disapproval or boredom; instead, it meant that Jungkook was seriously considering his answer, giving it the weight it deserved. It gave Taehyung a sense of acceptance and respect, instead of causing him anxiety and constant insecurity.
They spent a few more minutes in the snow, their movements becoming slower and their bodies increasingly shaken by shivers as the snow and cold forced their way through the layers of their clothing. Eventually, Jungkook rose to his feet with a small groan and turned to offer both hands to Taehyung, pulling him up when they clasped together.
“I think it’s better to go and drink something warm,” Jungkook said with a grin that didn’t hide the chattering of his teeth, as they both patted their coats and trousers to free themselves from the bulk of the snow.
They walked on legs as stiff as wood and had almost reached the road again when Jungkook looked up at the cloudy sky, the snowflakes less intense now.
“Maybe I should try, yes,” he said softly.
It took Taehyung a minute to realise Jungkook was answering the question that he had previously asked him. And another to understand that it sounded a lot like, “Maybe you should try too.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.
They were in the bookstore, discussing music, and Jungkook had refused to believe Taehyung when he mentioned owning a rare, signed record by Sinatra—not a secretarial signature, but a genuine one from the man himself, certified and all. It had riled Taehyung enough that he had grabbed Jungkook’s wrist and dragged him out of the bookstore and up the flight of stairs that led to his small apartment.
Now, self-consciousness fighting with the simmering panic of having someone in his sanctuary, Taehyung watched Jungkook’s eyes move to take in every detail with a hunger that didn’t feel invasive. To keep his hands from wringing nervously, he approached his turntable and quickly browsed the records neatly catalogued next to it, until he found what he was looking for. Soon after, the tell-tale sound of the needle hitting the record and the hiss that accompanied its travel in the groove gave way to the saxophone and its characteristic smooth and sultry sound.
Lie with me by the fire
We can be safe from the storms up high
There's a winter ahead, if it's cold and wet
We're always warm here side by side
Jungkook stopped his silent contemplation to look at Taehyung, a question in his eyes.
“Park Hyo-Shin,” Taehyung answered softly, eyes dropping on the record turning next to him. “I love his voice. His ballads are incredible, and this one has a jazzy feeling that resonates with me and–”
“You’re rambling,” Jungkook interrupted him gently, and Taehyung clicked his mouth shut. Jungkook’s eyes didn’t abandon him when he asked, slow and comforting, “Are you scared?”
Taehyung knew straight away that Jungkook wasn’t referring to whether he was scared of him, which was why he managed to meet his gaze and not feel the need to run away from it, both metaphorically and physically.
Come what may, change of heart, who can say?
If you look in my eyes
For the moon and the stars, hearing strumming guitars
Well, I admit that it'd be nice
“Yes,” Taehyung admitted in a whisper.
Jungkook stepped forward, a small one, slow and unthreatening. “I swear you are safe with me,” he said, and once again, it was more than what it sounded like.
“I know,” Taehyung replied, and it was true. He broke eye contact to look all around him. “It’s just– been a really long time since I let someone in.” Both knew he wasn’t just talking about his place.
Jungkook moved a hand to brush over the cover of a few books piled on the nearby desk. “Old records,” his face lifted towards the wall, where some well-maintained posters hung, “old movies. Old pictures. Novels to read.” It felt like he was counting point by point before drawing his conclusions. “You feel more connected to the past, prefer deeper conversations over small talk, and possess a strong sense of empathy and introspection. You are an old soul, and a romantic one on top of it. Is this why you chose acting?”
And Taehyung, already shaken at being seen so clearly, heard the real question behind the spoken one. Jungkook knew why Taehyung had chosen that career; he had told him days before. What Jungkook wanted to know was what everyone wanted to know. But somehow, the idea of giving that explanation to Jungkook didn’t scare Taehyung.
“I’ve been so naive.” Taehyung let the words flow out as they came, mouth bent in a trembling, sad smile, his attention turning towards the window and the world outside without seeing it. “I thought it would be romantic and fun. For me, it was a way to show different sides of myself, to give glimpses into my world, to let others see all my facets. I thought it was the same for everyone. Alas, I was wrong. With very few exceptions, artists play roles to hide who they truly are.”
Taehyung approached the windowsill and slowly sat, bending his legs and bringing them to his chest as if he needed to protect himself. “I know that everyone expects a shocking reason for my choice—a groundbreaking revelation. But the truth is plain, boring and simple: the industry is full of sharks and fakeness, and the loss of privacy and constant scrutiny got to me. They chipped away at me, taking advantage of my naivety and sending me into burnout. And at some point, I said stop.”
Taehyung turned his eyes to Jungkook, and they were brimming with tears. “I couldn’t lose any more of myself, Jungkookie. I just couldn’t.”
A wave of surprise washed over Jungkook’s face, eyes widening as the weight of the words settled in. His brows furrowed with upset, and he instinctively walked closer, acting on a sense of connection that Taehyung could feel as well, and that felt surprisingly strong for two people who didn't know each other well. When Jungkook stopped, towering over Taehyung, he took his time opening his arms and leaning forward, giving Taehyung all the time he needed to ask him to back off if he so wanted.
Taehyung let Jungkook’s arms envelope him, his forehead pressing against the younger man’s chest, and something cracked inside him. He was so touch-starved, so lonely, so desperate for love that that simple hug shattered every defence he'd built around himself. With a heartbreaking sob that shook his entire body, Taehyung let out all his grief for the parts of himself he'd lost, his shattered dreams, the life he had come to think he'd never have.
Instead of drawing back like Taehyung expected, Jungkook strengthened his hold around him, not caring for the tears and saliva that began to soak into his shirt, taking it all in as if it was his mission in life, to be the pillar for Taehyung to cling to as the merciless waves crashed against him, cleansing him.
And when the crying finally subsided and Taehyung remained slumped against his chest, boneless and asleep, exhausted from the ordeal, Jungkook stroked his hair and leaned down to place a light kiss on his head, whispering,
“You are so lovely.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
It was Christmas Eve, and the streets were teeming with people like a mad anthill, all hunting for that last gift, that last missing decoration, that last goddamned errand that would finally put an end to the annual madness called Christmas.
Taehyung had decided he needed some fresh air. His small flat suddenly felt too empty since Jungkook had set foot in it two days earlier, giving Taehyung the chance to finally let go of the grief that had been tormenting him. He had woken up sometime during that night, in his bed, under his duvet, his socks removed and neatly folded on the windowsill, but the rest of his clothes still on. He didn't remember falling asleep and only had a vague suspicion that Jungkook had something to do with his shifting in bed.
Despite having seen each other the following day at the bookstore, neither of them had mentioned what had happened in the apartment; Taehyung was too embarrassed to ask, and Jungkook... well. He had been his usual, cheeky self, but there was something thoughtful in his eyes when Taehyung had secretly glanced at him now and then.
Now, wandering around, lost in the faceless sea of scarves and hats, Taehyung wished he had been braver. That he had asked.
The bookstore was closed on Christmas Eve and would remain closed for the next two days, allowing Emma to spend some well-deserved quality time with her family during the festivities. That meant that Taehyung wouldn't be able to see Jungkook for as many days, and he had no way to reach out to him as they hadn’t exchanged numbers. Jungkook hadn't asked, and Taehyung hadn't wanted to assume.
“I should have been braver,” he murmured inside the scarf covering his mouth, sighing.
At some point in the past few weeks, Jungkook had made himself a home in Taehyung’s mind, and maybe not only there. But he was reluctant to acknowledge the butterflies in his stomach fluttering every time the younger man smiled in the way that made him look like a bunny. Or every time their bodies touched. Or every time his round, doe eyes full of stars lingered on him a little longer than they should have. Or–
“Oh, shut up,” Taehyung scolded, pressing his right gloved hand on his padded coat over his heart, which had started beating faster just by remembering it all.
Taehyung had gotten distracted enough to forget the compulsory dance moves on the busy New York sidewalks, resulting in a particularly rushed person bumping into him, sending him stumbling toward the nearest shop. Taehyung didn't have enough time to apologise, nor did the person's probable curses reach his ears before the crowd swallowed them up, so he sighed again and instinctively looked around to see if he was blocking anyone's passage. And stopped.
He was standing in front of a stationery shop, with multiple notebooks and pens on display in the window. An idea formed inside his brain—a very impulsive, very debatable one. Before he knew what he was doing, he had already crossed the threshold of the store.
“This is a bad idea”, Taehyung whispered to himself, his never-asleep fear of being recognised clawing at his chest. His eyes darted from side to side, searching for any sign of danger, and he was about to turn around and flee when a display made him freeze.
A wonderful leather-bound journal, clearly handcrafted, the leather smooth and soft even to the touch of the eyes, with a leather cord to keep it wrapped securely, was beautifully displayed next to a classic Mont Blanc customizable ballpen, sleek and simple elegance.
Taehyung hadn't even realised he'd closed the distance to the display and was staring at it until the voice of a sales assistant jolted him.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Taehyung whipped his head around and found himself facing an elegant young woman in a refined suit, with her hair professionally styled. She was maintaining a polite distance, a friendly, respectful smile on her face, her attention focused on the potential sale.
Taehyung could have declined, thanked her, and walked out of the store. Instead, this time, something inside him rebelled against the self-imposed fate of seclusion. He removed his gloves and, with trembling fingers, lowered the scarf, freeing the lower part of his face and mouth. He braced himself for possible recognition, but nothing changed in the sales assistant's expression.
“Yes, please,” he said with a surprisingly steady voice. “Would it be possible to have the pen personalised right now?” The young woman hesitated. When her expression turned apologetic, Taehyung quickly added, "I'm willing to pay extra."
The sales assistant paused and glanced behind her towards the desk. “Please, give me a minute. I will check with my manager. May I ask how long the engraving would be?”
“Just two letters,” he answered, sucking a corner of his lower lip inside between his teeth, crossing his fingers behind his back.
Half an hour later, Taehyung took his black card and the elegant, vibrant green bag with gold trim and a gold ribbon artfully tied in a bow from the young woman. He thanked her profusely for her help when she opened the door for him, and was about to step through the door when her voice, kept lower for his ears only, said, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Kim. Live your life happily."
Taehyung inhaled sharply and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the sudden pricking of tears. Then, he turned his head to look at her, knowing he could never hide the glistening, and smiled.
"Thank you. For everything," Taehyung said gratefully, before lifting his scarf over his face again and joining the flow of the crowd, his steps noticeably lighter.
By the time he reached home, he'd stopped at another store to buy an addition he couldn't resist, and detoured to "Choco Heaven," where he'd waited in line and ordered his favourite chocolate. Now, back in his apartment, Taehyung looked at the two bags on his desk from the windowsill. He still couldn’t believe that he'd faced his fears and everything had gone well. It felt like he'd achieved a breakthrough in regaining control of his life.
And it was all because of Jungkook.
Because it was for Jungkook that Taehyung had made those purchases, thinking about his dream of writing a book. And as incomprehensible as it may seem, the desire to buy those gifts had been stronger than everything else.
For the first time in months, Taehyung looked outside the window and smiled.
───※ ·❆· ※───
On Christmas Day, Taehyung woke up, yawned, opened his sleepy eyes on the shopping bags on his desk and knew they would likely never reach Jungkook. Sure, it had seemed like a good idea the day before, but as often happens after a night's sleep, good ideas looked different in the morning light. And this one seemed particularly overstepping.
Taehyung threw the duvet to the side and twisted enough to sit to the side of the bed, his feet touching the cold floor and sending a shiver up his back before he could find his slippers. He stood up and stretched lazily before walking to the window and opening the curtains.
Outside, New York looked the same, and it was a great comfort to Taehyung, since this was his first Christmas alone.
Taehyung went through his morning routine, dressed comfortably for home, and spent the morning on the windowsill, reading the book he'd neglected for the past few days. The story was captivating, full of twists and turns that drew gasps from Taehyung's lips. The two main characters had just escaped another danger and were now close to finally exchanging a kiss when the doorbell rang. The trill echoed above the soft music of the record and made Taehyung jump, so engrossed was he in reading. Instinctively, he looked out of the window down at the pavement in front of the door to his flat.
And met Jungkook’s eyes.
The younger man was standing two steps back from the door, in full view, his beautiful, messy hair left uncovered, and his face raised towards Taehyung's window. He waved, small and shy, and Taehyung could only stare at him in disbelief. His heart somersaulted in his chest, and the rest of his body seemed to follow through with the way he leapt from the windowsill and threw the door open, rushing down the stairs. He paused in the small foyer for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, feigning a calm he didn't possess, he opened the building's front door. Jungkook hadn’t moved, but his eyes were on Taehyung as soon as he heard the door click.
“Hey,” he greeted softly, and there was a nervousness in him that Taehyung had never seen before.
“Hey,” Taehyung answered, almost a breath out. “What are you doing here?”
Jungkook kicked a non-existent pebble on the pavement, his gaze wandering around restlessly before returning to Taehyung. “Are you busy?” He blurted out.
Taehyung blinked. “I– No. No, I was just reading.”
A thousand questions spun in Taehyung's mind, but he second-guessed each of them before they could slip out of his mouth. But then, Jungkook moved a hand, showing a key dangling from his index finger, immediately attracting Taehyung’s attention.
“Do you… maybe… want to hang out with me in the bookstore?”
Taehyung stared. The questions instantly multiplied, but so did the butterflies in his stomach. Perhaps misunderstanding Taehyung's silence, Jungkook quickly reassured him.
"Emma gave me the key. I– I thought maybe you'd like to get out of the house for a bit. If you don't have any plans. Or if you feel like it. But if you'd rather keep reading your book, that's fine. I just thought– It's Christmas and it's good to be in company and– What I mean is–”
“I’d love to,” Taehyung stopped him, fighting the tears at yet another thoughtful gesture by the young man. "But are you sure your family wouldn't prefer having you with them? It's Christmas for them too," he asked worriedly.
Jungkook shook his head vehemently. “We celebrate on Christmas Eve. It’s fine, hyung.”
Something was sparkling in Jungkook’s eyes that Taehyung didn’t dare to name. He asked Jungkook to wait just a minute, and went back up to change his slippers into his shoes, get his keys, and grab his jacket, even though the distance to walk was practically zero. The bookstore had been closed for two days, and there was a chance it might get cold. After closing the door behind him, Taehyung exited the building and joined Jungkook, who had already unlocked the bookstore and was holding the door for him.
Inside, the temperature was surprisingly warm. Jungkook turned the key in the lock again, blocking the world outside, and walked toward the back, Taehyung following. The younger man seemed strangely stiff, as if something was bothering him. Taehyung was about to break the silence and ask if he was okay when Jungkook crossed the back threshold and stepped aside, clearing his view.
It took Taehyung a moment to understand what he was looking at, but when he finally did, he could only inhale sharply from his open mouth, as if he needed oxygen.
The back of the bookstore was transformed into a romantic picnic setting, with a soft, plaid blanket neatly spread across the floor. Flickering candles, placed carefully in mason jars, cast a warm, inviting glow that danced off the surrounding walls and Taehyung’s bean bag. The enticing aroma of Christmas dishes filled the air, from the rich scent of glazed ham and roasted meat to the earthy warmth of roasted potatoes, to the sweetness of the Red Velvet cake. Elegant plates were artfully arranged on the blanket, showcasing an assortment of seasonal treats and savoury delights. Nearby, a thermos of hot cocoa sat nestled among festive decorations, its steam curling into the air and mingling with the scents of food.
Taehyung couldn’t speak. His mouth opened and closed multiple times, but his lungs didn’t seem to want to work. Eventually, he turned his eyes to Jungkook, hoping with all his heart that what he felt inside wasn't too clear on his face.
“I cooked these,” Jungkook said slowly, his own face a battlefield of too many emotions. “Eomma and Emma helped. I– I couldn’t bear the idea of you spending Christmas alone.”
Somewhere in Taehyung's mind, a memory from not many days ago stirred. A snowy park. A peaceful silence. And an angelic voice singing…
“He'll find his own way to tell you
With the little things he'll do
That's how you know”
"There's one more thing," Jungkook added, and Taehyung wondered for a wild moment if he'd make it out of this day alive. "I know gifts are usually given at the end of lunch, but–"
Without another word, Jungkook reached behind him for two bags, one bigger than the other. They were plain, no brands on sight, but beautifully decorated with festive ribbons.
“I–” Taehyung tried, and it was more of a sound than a word. Jungkook, however, maybe anticipating a refusal, pushed forward.
“Please, hyung? Can you look at them first?”
There was such desperation, such an honest and heartfelt plea, that Taehyung's hands reached out before his brain could understand what he was doing. Feeling his legs suddenly unsteady, Taehyung slowly sat down on a free corner of the blanket. His shaking fingers opened the smaller bag, and the contents took his breath away for the second time in minutes.
A beautiful vintage camera rested inside, its classic design marked by a patina hinting at years spent capturing memories. It had a large, glossy lens and well-worn dials and knobs that suggested countless adventures. Attached to the camera was a unique camera strap, made from soft, genuine leather in a rich tan hue, designed for comfort during long days of exploring.
Taehyung took it from the bag with reverent hands, holding it as delicately as he would a fragile piece of glass. He twirled it and looked at it from every side, admiring its craftsmanship and retro charm. His heart was pounding in his chest like a jackhammer, and a lump was forming in his throat that made it impossible even to swallow.
“Look in the other one too,” Jungkook whispered, as if afraid of scaring him.
Taehyung managed to tuck the camera back into the safety of the padding that had wrapped it until then and turned his attention to the larger bag. For some reason, he was terrified. Terrified that whatever was inside would make him collapse into another fit of tears, ruining everything. And when he finally took the large, heavy rectangular object out from inside and opened the cloth that protected it, he couldn't help but whimper.
The photobook was a work of art, thick and of high value, its leather cover a stunning burgundy. The spine and outer corners were a darker shade and edged in gold, and gold was the writing engraved on the front cover, a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
An urgency he had never felt before filled Taehyung, so much so that he almost felt like he was going to explode. He only took the time to put the photobook back in its safe place before jumping to his feet and running towards the bookstore door, Jungkook's panicked voice calling his name following him. Taehyung clicked the key into the lock and ran out onto the street, only to immediately reenter through the door that led to his apartment.
"Quick," he said to himself, breathless and heart racing.
He fumbled with the keys for a precious moment, cursed loudly, and finally managed to get inside his small flat just long enough to grab the two bags from the desk and slam the door shut again behind him. He rushed back out into the street, turned towards the bookstore and collided with Jungkook at its door.
“Hyung, what–” Jungkook said, the panic and distress in his voice unmistakable.
Taehyung dragged him back into the bookstore and locked the door. Almost in the same motion, he grabbed Jungkook's wrist and marched back toward the back. Static filled his head, interrupted only by the furious pounding of his heart and one certainty: it was now or never.
Breathing raggedly, Taehyung sat back down on the blanket in the same spot as before, tugging on Jungkook's wrist until he sat down opposite him. Only then did Taehyung allow himself to look into Jungkook's huge, panicked eyes as he handed him the bags containing his gifts. Following the movement, Jungkook's attention instinctively shifted to them, and Taehyung heard the sharp intake of breath when realisation hit the other man.
“What–” Jungkook whispered, incredulous.
“Just– Open them. Please.” Taehyung said in a trembling voice, afraid to hope but unable to do anything else.
Jungkook obeyed immediately. He made an incomprehensible sound at the sight of the notebook and pen, a trembling fingertip caressing the JK engraving. But it was the second gift, the smaller one, that brought tears to his eyes: a simple, nice frame around a printout that said, " put your best-seller cover here ."
Jungkook lifted his eyes to search for Taehyung’s. “You– You went shopping alone? And bought me a present?” He managed to ask, stunned.
Taehyung nodded, barely keeping it together. He cleared his throat, and it displaced the pile of words pressing inside his throat, making them stumble out of his mouth. “I was taking a walk and I found this shop. And I was so nervous, but I really wanted to buy you a gift because you have been nothing but kind, respectful, and gentle with me, and I might have a crush on you. And you have your dream, and you deserve well-wishing gifts, and it made me strong enough to overcome my fears. I even went to buy the chocolate by myself, you know? And–”
The rambling ended abruptly when the last word crashed against Jungkook’s lips. It caught him completely off guard, sending a jolt through his body.
The kiss began as a gentle brush of lips, but quickly evolved into something much more passionate. Jungkook scooted closer without breaking contact, until he could wrap a hand around Taehyung’s back of the head, his fingers threading into his hair; the other hand reached for his waist, tentative at first, but when it met no resistance, it splayed more confidently. Each movement sent the butterflies in Taehyung’s stomach into a frenzy. He could hardly believe this was real.
As their lips moved together, Taehyung felt a warmth spread through him, radiating from his heart and coursing through every nerve ending. It was as if every moment he had spent yearning for this—the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the moments of connection, the laughter and the tears—converged into that singular instant. He melted into the kiss, surrendering to the sensation as if each flicker of their lips was a key, unlocking the part of him buried beneath layers of sadness and loneliness for too long.
Taehyung didn’t care about the tears that pressed against the barrier of his eyelids until they broke free and trailed down his cheeks, but Jungkook did. When the saltiness reached his tongue, he immediately broke the kiss, his eyes instantly cleared of haziness, alert and worried, searching Taehyung’s face.
“I’m fine,” Taehyung whispered, a small, wet giggle leaving his lips. “I’m overwhelmed. But in a good way.”
Jungkook visibly relaxed. He looked beautiful, slightly flushed and emotional, his hands not leaving Taehyung, but also not demanding. Just grounding. “I just wanted to make this Christmas special… for us,” he said.
Taehyung lifted one hand and caressed Jungkook’s face reverently, his heart racing when the younger man leaned in immediately. “I don’t even know what I did to deserve this. I feel like– like I’ve finally found a place where I belong. It’s like– you’ve changed everything for me.”
Jungkook inhaled and exhaled, deep and slow, then leaned forward to kiss Taehyung sweetly on his lips, taking his hand with him. He pressed their foreheads together, and Taehyung felt so much he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“I’ve never felt so at home with anyone before,” Jungkook murmured.
A few seconds of silence passed before Taehyung managed to form the question that circled relentlessly in his mind. “So, what do we do now?”
Jungkook huffed a silent, endeared laughter and moved his face to peck at Taehyung’s lips again. “Now we eat, hyung. Then, we will put on some music. I want to hear you sing that song by Park Hyo-Shin, and I want to dance with you.”
Taehyung pressed his lips together to prevent them from trembling too much. When he was sure he was a little more in control, he asked, “You mean– this is just the beginning, right?”
Jungkook’s expression turned serious as he met Taehyung’s gaze, the hand in his hair moving to cup Taehyung’s face. “This is just the beginning. I want to get to know all of you, Kim Taehyung, and take you on dates whenever you feel comfortable with it. And in the meantime, I will keep you all to myself, and kiss you silly, and reassure you as many times as you need. I want to be your pillar, and I want you to be mine. I want to see you thrive, capturing the world through your lens while I pour my heart into my book.”
Taehyung didn’t even try to stop the tears from flowing. “Sounds good to me,” he laughed wetly before kissing Jungkook again.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Three years later, in the window of Emma's bookstore, the critically acclaimed debut novel by author Jeon Jungkook took pride of place. The cover was dominated by a stunning photograph of a vintage camera on top of a leather notebook in the foreground, with two male silhouettes in tuxedos sharing a kiss framed by a flower arch out of focus in the background, all bathed in the golden light of the sunset. In the credits of the novel, called "Together At Last", Jeon Jungkook credited Kim Taehyung - former actor and now respected photographer - as the author of the shot with the following words:
I'll be with you until the spring runs by
And the summer starts to burn
And I'll be with you when autumn returns
Yes, when all the seasons turn.