Citrus
after honesty i really needed something cute and happy - a/n
He leaves them everywhere. The big round fruit rolls off your desk when you open your laptop, sending you scrambling to catch it before it hits the floor. You wake up with them pressed against your nose, the culprit nowhere in sight. You even find them in the shower, turning the hot water citrus sweet. And you find them sliced up on the kitchen counter, served next to a hearty breakfast fit for a king but arranged for a queen.
And you find him, peering at you with those ever curious brown eyes, an absent expression on his face as he chomps into the orange like its an apple. He mumbles that this overwhelming plate of food is for you, but though he makes sure you are eating the majority of it, he sidles up to you on the stool and takes a slice of bacon here and steals a bite off your fork before it reaches your mouth, easing the theft with a kiss on your cheek, one that has you wiping the crumbs off in disgust. But you’re still blushing in all the affection.
For the upteenth time you tell taehyung to stop waking up early just to make you breakfast. But he never listens
And so your marriage goes.
He never listens to you, not when it comes to surprising you with random art pieces he’s found in the shop down the road, little painted jugs and glittering necklaces and sometimes unidentifiable clay pieces because he’s just found another painting to squeeze between his collection and he knows you aren’t as fascinated by the cluttered art covering up your yellow walls but you can’t say no, not when he keeps giving you these peace tokens.
And he never listens when you say you’re too tired to dance because he’s already got music playing while he haphazardly swings his arms around the kitchen, slowly making dinner while you chase him around, insisting his Gucci long sleeves will catch fire if he doesn’t stand still. He catches you by the waist and all of a sudden you’ve completed two songs swaying in his arms and when his chest is so warm and his heartbeat pounds against your cheek how can you say no? He’s enchanting.
Despite the late nights, he keeps managing to wrap you up in a blanket between his legs so you can watch a new netflix movie together and with his hand absently stroking your hair, his fingertips grazing your face, you never see the end of the movie. But sometimes you switch places and he has his head full of hair in your lap, his cheek squished against your thigh and your fingers never tire of playing with his hair as he drums his fingers over your kneecap, or strokes your legs to the point where you ask if he’s even paying attention to the movie.
Then there’s those days he drags you out the house. He’s got his glasses, hat, mask, and bag on, ten times more fashionable then your tee shirt and jeans but he doesn’t care, as long as he can keep staring at the way your ring finger glitters in the sun as you walk down the street hand in hand and yeah okay you do get excited seeing new food stands and music shops and he watches you like a hawk, buying the things you pretend you don’t want so he doesn’t buy them for you. And there’s lots of pulling down that surgical mask and kissing him against the brick wall of an alleyway.
But sometimes he isn’t so carefree. Sometimes he sinks into himself and you have a hard time reaching him. Especially when tour season comes back and he knows he has to leave his wife and go sing. He loves his tour life but he loves you too and he still doesn’t comprehend why he can’t pack you up and take you with him. But you have a job to uphold and the fans wouldn’t appreciate it but he still has a hard time leaving you, to the point where he shuts down days before the flight and he doesn’t acknowledge you as if he can block out the pain by ignoring you. And that’s when you’re the one leaving oranges by his bedside and kissing him as soon as he enters the room and forcing him to sit down on the floor between your legs so you can play with his hair and you’re making tons of desserts he likes, playfully getting whip cream on his nose which earns you a small sad smile.
But you still hear him, crying into his pillow at night, the muffled sobs tearing you apart until you can’t help but rub his back and whisper into his ear that no matter how far away he travels you will always be there. And you remind him why he’s such an amazing superstar and the talent he possesses and the passion he wants to share with the world. And its three in the morning, you’re sitting up in bed, he’s clinging to you in his sleep, his breathing evened out by the scent of your tee shirt, his nose pressed to your stomach.
The oranges return, replacing his empty spot on the bed. You walk downstairs and he’s singing some bluesy folk tune you almost recognize. And he’s slicing more oranges, popping every other one into his mouth. You walk up to him and hug him from behind. You never got a reason as to why he keeps giving you oranges ever since you started dating. He immediately wraps his arm around you and pulls you to stand beneath his chin, finishing the oranges and kissing you good morning. He’s playful on the last day, acting goofy and changing his voice a thousand times and snapping a relentless amount of selfies with you. It’s almost annoying but you know he’s just forcing himself to be extra happy.
And when the bags are all packed and you face each other in front of the open door, he cups your cheeks and kisses you hard. And your hands are in his hair, careful of his beret and he kisses you one final time before burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and remembering how to breathe normally. And you pull back, smiling, saying how proud you are of your handsome successful husband and he insists he will come back even more successful and handsome and you both exhale, knowing he’s got to go. So you stand on tip toes and he ducks his chin so you can kiss his lips, then you grab his hands and kiss his wedding ring. the tears in his eyes brimming over. And you beam, telling him to call you at the airport and take lots of pictures, tell the boys hello.
And he nods telling you to lock the doors and don’t oversleep because he can’t wake you up and don’t worry about him too much. And then you’re shutting the door behind him and he’s gone.
But as you wander into the kitchen, wiping your eyes, your breath catches because this man knows no ends to his love and the kitchen table has those stupid orange slices in a giant heart and some blueberries spell out “i love you” and that’s when you lose it. Laughing through your tears, knowing the best husband in the world belonged to you and his name is taehyung.