Genre: established relationship, fluff and love, slice of life
WC: 1k
Warnings: one (1) curse, this is also not my wheelhouse to write so I’m nervous eager to see what you think :)
Note: thank you a billion times for all the sobbing emojis during your beta job, @/kookstempo!!! ilu pumpkin
You’re comfy – so comfy: blanket over your legs holding in your body heat, coffee cup between your hands still steaming as you wait for it to cool enough to drink, throw-pillows behind you in just the right spots.
Unfortunately, you have to get up. Why? Because you hear Yoongi’s electric toothbrush in the bathroom, and that means he’s getting ready to leave.
You must make your displeasure known.
You set your coffee cup on the table and reach for the remote, pausing the nonsense you were half-watching as you woke up. You pad through the living room sleepily, heading towards the bathroom light down the hallway.
He’s fresh out of the shower, standing before the bathroom sink in only a clean pair of boxer briefs. In the sink below him, cold water is running. You eye his bare back, still covered in water droplets. He never dries his shoulders properly. He turns to look at you as you come into view in the doorway, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.
“Uh-oh,” he says, around a mouthful of toothpaste. You can’t help it - you smile deviously.
You come to stand behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, holding on to your own forearms to lock him in place. You rest your cheek against the flat of his shoulder blade for a second – he’s still so warm from the shower – but then face front to look at him in the mirror. In your reflections, you can only see yourself from your eyes up, peering over his shoulder, the rest of you hidden behind the love of your life.
He meets your eyes in the mirror and gives you a look that’s somehow both indulgent and warning. The duality with this guy, you swear.
He leans forward to spit and rinse, and you keep your arms locked tight around his middle, giggling a little when the action causes you to have to stretch onto your tippytoes. You keep your grip tight as he turns to reach for a face-towel, and swivel together with him when he turns back to turn the faucet off.
“Are we really doing this?” he asks you, the barest hint of a laugh in his voice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say lightly, feigning innocence.
He rolls his eyes at you, but you can see the corners of his mouth fighting twitches. He doesn’t want to laugh; he knows laughing will only encourage your shenanigans.
He turns and heads back into your shared bedroom, and you keep your arms in place, hopping quickly from one foot to another in an effort to not step on him or accidentally let go. He huffs out a laugh as your front bumps into his back over and over in your efforts to keep up.
“Did you know,” he says, stopping in front of his closet, eyes searching for what he wants to wear, “that you only do this when I’m trying to get ready to go?”
“Do what?” you demand innocently.
He cocks an eyebrow at you over his shoulder. You squeeze him just a little tighter. “Get clingy,” he clarifies, even though you both knew what he meant.
“It’s not the only time I get clingy,” you muse, happy to keep the conversation going. As long as he’s still in your grasp, as long as he’s still talking to you, then you’re successfully delaying his departure. “I get clingy when I’m sleepy, too. Or when I’m sad. Or when I just want a hug.”
He’s digging through the closet now, hands going for the hangers he wants. “That’s a long list. How do I put up with you?”
“Good question,” you deadpan. “How do you put up with me?”
He’s been trying to get ready despite your iron grip around his middle – this is such a familiar song-and-dance he’s not sure he can get dressed without you attached to his back – but now he stops. His instinctual reaction, sassy shit that he is, is to quip, “It’s a challenge, for sure,” but something halts him today.
He turns within your little prison, and you allow it. He bends down and kisses your forehead, one lock of black hair falling over his forehead with the motion, and your eyes widen. You obstructing his getting-ready process is commonplace – him being sweet instead of playfully annoyed is not.
But there’s something Yoongi learned the hard way over a year ago when you two started getting serious: while his love language is acts of service, yours is words of affirmation. You both had to learn this about each other and adjust. For you that meant remembering to ask yourself what you could do for him when you weren’t used to having someone else to think about. For him it meant making an effort to put his feelings into words for you, even when it didn’t come easily or naturally.
“Putting up with you,” he says, voice low, “is one of my favorite things to do.”
You go absolutely silent, but you squeeze him a little tighter. You know it doesn’t come effortlessly for Yoongi to be verbally sentimental – he shows his love in a million little ways every day, but this kind of thing means he put in a concentrated effort, made a choice to try and give you what you need. You’re flooded with gratitude, overcome with appreciation for his willingness to try for you.
“Well, now I really don’t want you to leave,” you grumble into his chest. He laughs fully, shoulders shaking and smile showing his gums.
“The sooner you let me go,” he reasons, “the sooner I can come home again.”
“I’d rather you not go at all,” you say. He glances at the clock and gives your arms two quick pats, indicating that he really needs to make some moves now, and your allotted bothering time is up. Sighing, you release your hold on him, making to go back to your spot on the couch. Your coffee has probably cooled by now.
You’re about to step away when Yoongi reaches and pulls you back, wrapping you in one last hug before he has to start hustling to get out the door on time. You sink against him, eyes closing. You’re back to being comfy – so comfy.
Warnings: angst, hospital visit, lots of MS talk, kissing, language
The Request:
@pamzn sorry for the delay on this one!!! I hope it delivers!
A/N: This is the second half of Chapter 10 :)
Sunday is a disaster - the worst Taehyung can remember since he was a teenager. His mother is incapacitated by the pain of her headaches, spending long hours clutching her head and crying. Not to mention that this attack - Taehyung is sure this is a full-scale MS attack, even though they don’t have the brain scans to prove it yet - has left her entire left side feeling weakened, her vision blurry.
His father had taken her to the hospital on Saturday night, but they’d treated her for the headache and sent them home again. Then on Sunday, the rest of the symptoms came on strong - the blurred, darkened vision, the weakening of her arm and leg on the left side. By Sunday night, she can barely move them at all.
He and his father beg to take her back to the hospital, but she remains stubborn, wanting to wait it out.
“Jagiya,” Taehyung’s father says softly, voice quiet, just for her. “Let’s go, okay? We’ll get Dr. Khan to order a start to the steroids. There’s no point in suffering.”
Taehyung’s not sure why she resists - pride, maybe. But probably she just hates sitting for long hours while the IV steroids run at the out-patient section of the hospital, hates how the steroids make her too energized, to where she can’t sleep and will wake up and scrub the stovetop at three in the morning. Probably she hates how they give her a moon-face and make her act mean. (“Meanness” is literally listed as a side-effect, Taehyung looked it up when he was sixteen and thought she hated him for a few weeks.)
On Monday morning, Taehyung’s father reluctantly gets ready for work. Taehyung hasn’t been home except to grab clean clothes since before his trip for Nikki’s birthday - he hasn’t even been able to think about all the things that happened with you since he stepped back into his childhood household, his mother’s misery eclipses everything else in his brain.
“I’ll talk to my boss, try to get out early,” Taehyung’s father tells him. “See if you can get her to go. She listens to you.”
Taehyung lets his mother sleep as long as she’s able in the morning; when she wakes it’s clear that she’s lost all use of her left arm. This makes her cry, and that makes Taehyung’s stomach hurt. He starts calling her neurologist's office as soon as it opens; he gets put on hold and left there.
He just wants to ask an adult - a real adult - what he should do.
Mid-morning, Taehyung decides he can’t take it anymore. “We’re going,” he tells her flatly. “I’m going to get you dressed, and we’ll leave. I’ll keep calling Dr. Khan on our way there.”
“I don’t want to just sit in the waiting room like this,” she protests. “If we wait for Dr. Khan then we can -.”
“No,” Taehyung says flatly. “At least they can give you something for the pain, even if we have to wait for the steroids.”
Behind him, from the living room, Taehyung thinks he hears his name being called. Then, once more, a little less timidly. He freezes. He knows that voice.
He rises, heads back to the living room. You look at him, bewildered, as if you can’t believe you’d just walked in uninvited. Honestly, he can’t believe it either. He’s sure you’re there to talk after everything that happened over the weekend, but he can’t right now, not when he’s deep in fix it mode with his mom. And why are you trying to talk to him during a weekday morning?
“Why are you in my house right now?” he asks. He’s already redialing Dr. Khan, ready to be put on hold until the call disconnects automatically for the fourth time that morning. “Never mind. Whatever this is, Y/N, I can’t do it right now. You need to go, now.”
He’s not even looking at you, he’s looking at his phone.
“Taehyung,” you say, and there’s something steely in your tone, something that tells him you’re taking no bullshit right now. “Let me help you.”
No. He almost says it. Behind him, his mother lets out a particularly pitiful sob before quieting again. The hold music on his phone starts to play. He needs to get his mother dressed and in the car.
“Tae,” you say, whispering. “What’s going on? How can I help?”
You look scared, brows bunched together. You look like you’re about to reach out, to place gentle fingers on his shaking hands.
“You can’t,” he snaps. He does not have the emotional capacity for this. You give him a look, crossing your arms over your chest and sticking out your chin.
He always did love how stubborn you are.
He remembers you saying, on the day you’d left him, “when I needed you to be there and you stepped up, I let you.” Was that all he had done wrong? Was that all it would take to change fate?
Resigned, he says, “My dad got called in for a work emergency,” he tells you. “She can’t walk today. I’m trying to get her to the hospital.”
He watches your eyes widen in shock. “She can’t walk?” you parrot.
“She could yesterday, this hasn’t happened in years,” he explains. “I’m trying to get a hold of her neurologist to see if he can meet us at the hospital or-.”
“What else needs to happen?” you cut him off.
Taehyung gestures wildly. What needs to happen is a miracle, and he can’t exactly ask for that. “I need to get her dressed and in the car. It’s hard when she can’t – her whole left side just doesn’t move when she wants it to.”
“I’ll do it,” you say, and honestly he’s never wanted to kiss you so much in his life. It’s not even a romantic thing, he’s just so damn relieved. “Will she let me? I’ll get her ready, you call the people you need to call. Then we can get her in the car together.”
Taehyung nods, looking back at his phone, hanging up and dialing again. While you get her dressed, he walks through the kitchen and puts together the paperwork they need, finds his own wallet and keys.
He carries his mother to the car, sets her gently in the passenger seat, helps her buckle in. You hover, holding the papers and his mother’s purse.
“I can take it from here,” he says. “Thank you for the help, but you should go back to work.”
Work. He realizes for the first time that he hadn’t remembered to call and say he was sick.
You don’t answer him, just shake your head and climb in the backseat, buckling in and staring at him defiantly, challenging.
God, you’re so stubborn. It almost makes Taehyung smile. On a different day, it might have.
Taehyung rolls his eyes and gets into the driver’s seat.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur. Taehyung remembers his mother getting whisked away to get imagining taken of her brain, so the hospital’s neurology team could confirm if she has an active lesion, judge the severity of it, make a decision. He remembers finally getting Dr. Khan on the phone, finally. He remembers his dad calling to say he was getting out of work within the hour and he’d come straight there.
He remembers you, listening intently as doctors spoke to him, holding his mother’s hand when they inserted an IV needle on the other hand, sitting beside him. Now and then you’d reach out and touch his shoulder gently, a nonverbal I’m here with you. You never left his side, not for a second.
“You can go home,” Taehyung tells you, once he knows his dad is on his way. “You can take my car - I'll just go home with my dad after he gets here.”
You frown at him like he’s said something offensive, and shake your head. “I’ll leave when you leave,” you say firmly.
And who is Taehyung to argue? The next time you lean closer to his side, he reaches over and gives your shoulder a quick, thankful squeeze.
When his father arrives, the doctors fill him in. Mrs. Kim is sleeping, having received medication for the devastating headache and a round of IV steroids to calm the process that makes her limbs weak. When they release her, Taehyung helps his father get her back in the car. He watches as they drive away, and then turns to face you, feeling completely, utterly spent.
You look at him, your face softening with understanding and affection. Taehyung wonders absently when you’d started looking at him like that again. You used to, he remembers that expression well from their days at the lakehouse. After the break-up, you had barely looked at him at all, and never like this.
“Let’s go back to your place,” you suggest. A little smile shows up on your face and you add, “You can shower and nap, I’ll order food.” It’s exactly what Taehyung had said to you, months ago, after the night your mother had gone missing, the day you’d fallen apart and he’d held you together, just like you’d done for him today.
It was always mirrors with the two of you. Taehyung had noticed that from the start.
Taehyung feels like a robot, like he’s running on muscle-memory only. He gets you both back to his apartment, he showers, he collapses into bed. It doesn’t even occur to him to argue with you, to tell you to go home. Maybe he’s too drained to think about it.
Maybe he likes that you’re there.
He wakes up some hours later feeling like a whole new person. He rolls onto his side, listening. He doesn’t hear any movement and wonders if you’ve gone home. He wouldn’t blame you - what’s the alternative, sitting alone in your ex’s living room while he napped behind a closed door?
But to his surprise, he opens his bedroom door to find you sitting in the chair in the little nook he’d made for you, back when things were good between you. The fact that you’re there, specifically, and not over on the couch or something… Taehyung feels like he’s understanding something you’re saying silently. He smiles shyly, hoping he’s not wrong.
“Feel better?” you ask him, lowering your phone. “There’s take-out in the fridge.”
Taehyung realizes he hasn’t eaten today, and he’s definitely starving. But more pressing - you’re in his apartment, and you’re sitting in your nook that he made for you.
“Amazing,” he says, and plops on the couch, his head on the arm, his legs stretched out. Despite napping, his body feels exhausted; he imagines it’s from all the adrenaline throughout the day. “What a fucking day,” he breathes.
“I’m glad it’s somewhat under control now,” you say seriously.
Taehyung snaps; he’d been holding on by the tiniest thread, and it’s over now. You’d shown up at his house unbidden, like your fucking Taehyung senses were tingling. You’d helped him through one of the hardest, scariest days he’s ever had. You’d stood by him all day, no matter how many times he told you to go home.
And then you’d stayed, waited for him, and now you’re smiling at him so openly, like the wall you used to put up isn’t just down, it’s like it never even existed in the first place.
He needs you in his arms now. He needs to hold you now or he’ll lose it.
“C’mere,” he murmurs. He doesn’t even have time to hope you listen before you’re up and moving. You perch lightly by his legs, looking at him expectantly. “Thank you for being there today,” he says, meaning this and so much more. Meaning this, and ‘thank you for saving me’. Meaning this, and ‘thank you for loving me, because I’m sure now that you do’. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up. That would have been a lot harder alone.”
“Taehyung,” you say, face pale. He can see your nerves - in the slight tremble of your fingers as they rest just above your thighs, in the breathiness as you say his name. “I have something I need to say to you.”
Taehyung pulls himself up so he’s not lying down anymore. He wants to look at you, wants to be fully participating in this conversation. “I’m all ears,” he tells you.
Don’t be scared, he thinks, something he should have told you fucking months ago. Maybe it would have saved you both some strife.
He watches you gather your bravery, squaring your shoulders and looking him right in the eyes. “Tae,” you say, and he’s done right there, he doesn’t even need the rest. It’s all in your voice, it’s all in the way the one syllable falls from your mouth, alight, like it has wings of its own. “I want to apologize. I’m sorry for letting my fear be bigger than my trust.”
Taehyung fights the urge to shake his head at you. He doesn't need an apology from you. He doesn't need you to take the blame for the break-up. He doesn't need you to care for how he’d hurt in the time you were apart.
You huff out an anxious breath and continue. “But… I do trust you. I always did. I actually… fuck, I actually love you. I’ve loved you since the lake. I think I’ve loved you since you threw a water bottle at me after we fought.”
You pause, laughing at yourself, and Taehyung just stares, pulse racing in his ears, the noise of it roaring like his heart. It’s beyond what he wanted, beyond what he needed, leagues beyond what he deserves, and he honestly just wants you to come kiss him, but you’re still talking, voice trembling.
“I remember you telling me that no one ever fought for you - no one made you feel like you’re worth the fight.”
Taehyung remembers that, too, remembers clearly the first time he had found the words for the gnawing feeling inside him. He remembers how talking to you about it had felt like… like no one else spoke his language for his whole life, and then you walked up and spoke it fluently.
“I’m fighting,” you say, your voice breaking, and Taehyung clenches his hands into fists to stop from reaching for you, from interrupting you. “I want to be with you. I want to choose to trust you every day. I want to choose to love you every day.”
Taehyung is sure that whatever you’re going to say next is amazing, which is a shame, because he’s pulling you by the wrist into his lap, reaching for your face, mouth finding yours as soon as it's close enough. You kiss him back eagerly, straddling his lap. His hands find your face and he knows - he knows - this is what he was waiting for all those years.
He knows he has something special with you. He knows that it means something that you two fought through so much bullshit to get here. He knows it matters that you were there for him today, when you owed him literally nothing. He knows that it must have been terrifying for you to apologize, to throw down your walls and admit you love him.
He knows his heart is soaring as you kiss him, knows that you’re feeling it too.
He knows he’s in love with you - fully, deeply, completely. He’s known all along.
Thank you for reading! You can find my full masterlist here :)
Warnings: language, drinking, kissing, groping, grinding, Taehyung is a horny mess part 2, OC has a panic attack but this is Tae's POV so he doesn't really know that, angst
The request:
@pamzn requested the club scene and @rinkud requested the day after, both from Taehyung's POV. I stitched the two together and did both the night at the club and the following day.
A/N: This is most of Chapter 10 from Taehyung's POV, but I thiiiiink it could stand alone? Idk, you tell me.
Taehyung knows he’s absolutely, positively fucked the second the elevator doors slide open.
He - honest to God - almost turns straight around to head back to his own room for the night. Instead, he busies himself looking out front for the Ubers you’d all scheduled, as next to him he hears Jimin utter, “Holy shit.”
Yeah. No kidding.
He watches your reflection in the glass doors of the hotel’s entrance - it’s the only way he can stare the way he wants to without getting caught. It’s obvious that Nikki is to blame for this - that dress does great things for your ass, but it’s clearly not your normal style. Not to mention the heels - Taehyung won’t even say what they make him think about, but they scream Nikki, too.
The part of him that loved holding you close on the couch, pressing his face into your messy hair as you both lounged in sweatpants hates it. The part of him that currently houses most of the blood that belongs in his brain loves it.
Taehyung considers, for a moment, laying in the street and letting the Ubers run him over. Surely that would suck less than going with the group to a club of all places and spending a whole night trying to ignore the fact that he used to have you and now he doesn’t, and you look like that.
Jimin jostles him back to reality as everyone heads through the doors towards the awaiting cars, giving him a look that seems both deeply sympathetic and - somehow - also a bit amused. Taehyung gives him the finger, subtly, before sliding into the backseat of the first Uber.
Of fucking course you slide in next, followed by Nikki and Seokjin. Taehyung takes a deep breath, steels himself, clenches his jaw, and tries to pretend you aren’t pressed up against him in a way you haven’t been in months.
He looks out the window, watching the buildings pass by, trying to pretend he’s anywhere else. The Uber takes a hard left and everyone slides. You end up nearly in his lap, and he instinctively reaches out a hand to help you stay seated. You tense under his touch, and he draws back quickly, apologizing quietly. His hand tingles and he places it in his lap, praying for the ride to end quickly so he can put some distance between you two again.
Outside the club, Taehyung is the last to climb out of the car. He pauses on the precipice, turning around and looking desperately at the Uber driver, an older, bald guy who has no idea that Taehyung is about to step out of his car and into hell. Taehyung wants to beg the guy to drive him back to the hotel.
Instead, he puts one foot on the pavement and pushes out into the night. He can hear the music pulsing and pounding even from outside, and he knows this won’t be a night where you all gather around a table to talk shit together. He gives a heavy sigh, and follows Jimin up to the door of the club, digging out his wallet to show his ID to the bouncer.
“Fighting,” Jimin whispers, giving him a little nudge. Taehyung groans, letting himself be pitiful for just a second. Jimin gives him a bracing slap on the upper back and heads inside. Taehuyng has no choice but to follow.
The noise is so much louder, and the lights are so dim that it takes him a second to adjust. The dancefloor is packed with bodies already, and the bar too. Taehyung follows Seokjin towards the high-tops to see if they can find space to put down all your drinks, while you follow Nikki towards the bar. Eventually, you and Nikki return to the group, a tray of shots between you. Taehyung takes his gratefully, very ready to start drinking.
“To Nikki!” you yell, holding your shot glass in the air, and most of the group echoes.
To my sanity, Taehyung thinks, and throws back his shot.
“Let’s dance!” Nikki screams, taking your hands and leading you away. Taehyung reaches for a second shot.
–
Normally, Taehyung likes to dance, and the DJ is solid, but he finds himself glued to the table instead, a glass sweating in his hand as he watches you. You’re dancing with some loser on the far side of the dancefloor. Taehyung knows it’s wrong, knows he has no right to this, but he’s burning with anger, drowning in jealousy as he watches the guy’s hand travel down your arm, pause at your elbow, and then find your waist as you roll your hips against his, hair swinging as you move with the beat.
“Stop staring, Taehyung,” Jimin leans over to tell him, some warning in his voice. Taehyung isn’t sure what the warning is for - could be a warning against getting caught watching, against watching at all, against the rapidly rising tide of heartbreak and loss that Taehyung knows will toss him around like a ragdoll in its waves if he doesn’t get a grip soon.
I can’t help it, Taehyung wants to say. He wants to storm over there and pull you away. He wants to be the one with his hands on your hips. He wants to hear you breathe his name again. He wants to scream, punch a wall. He wants to tell you again that he loves you. He wants to know how you managed to walk away from him like it was easy, because he wants to be able to do it, too.
He doesn’t have the right to want any of that.
“I know,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking.
“If you want her,” Jimin says flatly, “then go. Standing here isn’t doing anything for anybody.”
“I don’t want her,” Taehyung lies, and drains his drink. Jimin rolls his eyes and reaches for Taehyung’s empty glass.
“The same? I was going to get another, too.”
Taehyung nods gratefully, passing the glass over. Jimin disappears in the direction of the bar, and Taehyung takes a bracing breath. Jimin’s right. This isn’t productive in any way. Just because he can’t have you anymore doesn’t mean he has to stand here alone all night. Maybe he can distract himself.
He straightens his spine, runs a hand through his hair, and heads towards the dancefloor.
He doesn’t get far.
He’s stopped by a tentative touch, fingertips feather-light on his forearm. They belong to a cute blonde holding a martini glass. She smiles sheepishly, asking him if he wants to dance. A year ago, Taehyung would have considered his whole night on lock at this point. Tonight, he barely registers what words she’s saying, where her fingers lay, the quirk of her smile.
You’re dancing with someone else.
The song ends and Taehyung watches as you shoot the guy a smile over your shoulder and walk away, heading in the direction of the table. The direction of Taehyung.
He can tell you’re feeling your drinks by the liquid way you move. Your eyes meet across the dancefloor and Taehyung swears to god he feels actual electricity run down his legs. You freeze, stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide as you take him in. You’d have to walk past him to get to the table, and he watches the decision flash across your face. Your face goes hard with resolve and you turn, heading back into the crowd. He watches as you tantalizingly swing your hips, raise your hands. He knows - he knows - you did that to fuck with him.
You want to toy with him? That’s fine. He can play.
He’s moving without telling the blonde goodbye; he can vaguely hear her indignant squawk as he pushes through the throngs of people dancing. He catches up to you in no time, slotting his body behind yours. It always did fit so well. His hands find your waist like they’re drawn there by magnets.
He finds the beat immediately, one hand gripping your hip as you dip together right as the beat drops. You melt back against him like you were waiting for him, and that’s all the green light Taehyung needs. He tightens his grip on your hip as you lean your head back against his chest, your throat exposed to the flashing club lights, and you move together like you’d never been apart. Taehyung keeps your hips flush against his own as you rock along with the bass, his free hand tracing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your eyes are still closed, mouth parting, and then…
Then you’re pulling against his grip, twisting in his arms, turning to face him, and Taehyung’s pulse is racing, speeding, trampling like a stampede of horses, wild wild wild and your hands are in his hair and your face is just centimeters from his and oh my god he wants you and just like that, you’re kissing.
You’re kissing like you’re drowning. He can feel your fingers tug at his hair and he’s groaning into your mouth as his hands find the meat of your ass. Finally. God, this dress. He rocks his hips against yours as he holds your ass in place with one hand, the other coming to grip the back of your neck as your mouth opens for his. He hopes every idiot on the dancefloor sees this, knows you only do this for him.
As you sway with the song blasting around you, something dark and sultry, pulses pounding, Taehyung moves his mouth from yours and works your jaw instead, teeth scraping lightly over the spots he remembers making you whimper, followed by soothing kisses. When he reaches the juncture near your ear, he whispers, “Jesus Christ, never let Nikki dress you again. Never.”
He wants to rip the fucking dress off right here. He wants to call Nikki some unkind names for doing this to him.
You laugh, and Taehyung leans back to catch your smile, but it’s already gone - fleeting, blink and you’ll miss it.
Taehyung’s missed it for months.
Instead, you’re looking at him wide-eyed again, like you’re just realizing what you’ve done.
Wait, Taehyung tries to say, knowing already that you’re about to spiral, but his reflexes are slow, dumbed down by alcohol and lack of blood in the brain.
He follows as you step away, towards the open space between the dancefloor and the bar, and you shake your head at him. Your red lips are smudged, just slightly.
“Don’t,” you say to him, those same lips forming the words as clear as day. “Please, don’t.”
Taehyung stops, unsure. He can see the panic on your face, see how pale you got just now, see the tremor in your hands. But you’re telling him to stay away, and he’s not sure if he should listen or not.
He watches as you make your way - unsteadily, using tables to help you - out the front door. He spins, scanning the room, wondering if anyone else noticed. If he can find Nikki, he’ll send her. Even Jimin might be a better choice right now if his presence will upset you.
But he can’t see anyone but Jungkook, and while Jungkook’s a sensitive, understanding guy in his own way, that doesn’t seem right. So, deeply unsure if he’s making the right call, Taehyung ignores what you asked him and follows you outside.
It takes him a second to find you - the sidewalk is empty except for the bouncer sitting on a stool by the door and a group of three guys smoking cigarettes a few feet down. Taehyung looks around wildly, calls your name once, and then spots you.
You’re sitting on a concrete step a few buildings down, your face in your hands. Taehyung calls your name again as he draws closer, but you don’t look up.
Alarm hits him like a sobering wave as he gets closer enough to see your shoulders shaking. All the lust and jealousy that had been coursing through him only minutes ago vanishes, replaced with concern and adrenaline. It’s not just your shoulders shaking like you’re crying, he can see your whole body trembling.
“Baby,” he says, voice tender. He doesn’t know if he should touch you. “Hey. Are you okay?”
Was this his fault? Because he’d kissed you?
He crouches down, reaching for the hands that you cover your face with, peeling them gently away. His eyes scan your face quickly - for tears, for fury, for answers.
Your breaths shudder, in and out, sounding like a bicycle with a baseball card stuck in the spokes. You close your eyes and lean your head against Taehyung’s chest, arms shaking, fists clenched. Taehyung lets you hide there, very aware that you haven’t answered yet.
“Breathe,” he tells you, because it seems like you need to be reminded. You’re trying, he can tell, but you’re close to hyperventilating. “More slowly,” he corrects gently. “Try.”
In his arms, you soften just a fraction, taking a slow breath in, holding it, letting it out shakily. Taehyung gives you a noise of appreciation. “Again,” he murmurs. His knees ache already from squatting in front of you, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care about anything until you can breathe again, until you can meet his eyes, until you can verbalize that you’re alright.
He smooths down your hair gently as you keep breathing, assuring you that you’re safe. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it. When you pick your head up off his chest, eyes on the ground, he moves his hands to your upper arms and backs up a little so he can look at you better.
Probably he should get you out of here, somewhere quiet.
“Do you have all of your stuff? Can I help you back to the hotel?”
You nod, and he feels a wave of relief that you aren’t going to try and fight him about it. He pulls out his phone, swipes away whatever text Jimin sent him from inside the club - probably asking where you both went - and orders an Uber.
Once the car is on its way he moves to sit next to you on the concrete step. Next to him, you’ve stopped shaking, the tremble gone. You’re breathing more deeply, still slowly, like you’re still concentrating on it.
Taehyung takes the chance to check his missed texts.
[1:13 AM] Jimin: ???
[1:16 AM] Jimin: i srsly went to get you a new drink and now your tongue is in y/n’s mouth smh
[1:17 AM] Jimin: you owe me the money for this rum and coke, you ass
[1:24 AM] Jimin: uhhhh hello???????????????
Taehyung answers quickly -
[1:51 AM] Taehyung: hey we were out front
[1:52 AM] Taehyung: y/n doesn’t feel well, i’m taking her back
[1:52 AM] Taehyung: and before you say it, no, not like that
When the Uber pulls up, Taehyung stands first and turns, offering you his hand. He pulls you to your feet, helping you balance.
The ride back to the hotel is silent; Taehyung keeps his arm around you protectively, keeping you warm, keeping you vertical. You haven’t spoken, haven’t said a single word since you told him not to follow you. You haven’t looked at him in that time, either.
He’s worried about you. He’s worried he fucked things up even worse than they were. But at least you haven’t shrugged off his arm, at least you’re letting him guide you out of the car and back through the hotel lobby.
Back in your room, you sit on the end of your bed, face blank. Taehyung’s mind is racing as he tries to think of what you might need, how he can help. Should he help you into pajamas? A shower? Food?
His eyes light on the mini-bar and he grabs a water bottle, pressing it into your hands.
“You better drink all of that,” he says seriously. You twist off the cap and raise it to your lips obediently, finally - finally - meeting his eyes over the top of the water bottle.
Relief washes over him again and he sits heavily in the desk chair, a few feet away from you. He wishes he could take back kissing you, touching you. It wasn’t worth it, not if it had sent you spiraling like this.
“What the hell happened?” he asks finally, unable to bear the silence and his own mounting guilt. “You just had too much to drink?”
He knows that wasn’t it. But he wants off the hook so badly.
You shake your head. “Not more than any other time I’ve gone out with Nikki,” you tell him. Your voice is all fucked up. You clear your throat, try again. “I don’t really know what happened. I just… had an intense day, I guess. It kind of caught up with me. I felt like I was dying.”
All Taehyung knows is guilt. He crossed so many lines, all at the same time.
“I guess I didn’t help with that,” he says. It’s an understatement, he knows.
You laugh, and his eyes flick back to you. “I think if we’re being honest, I started it,” you say, lips quirking. It feels so good to see you smile after the episode you’d had, Taehyung fights the urge to stand and hug you again. Instead, he stands. Now that you seem like yourself again, he’s sure the best thing he can do is leave you alone. His presence will surely only make things complicated.
He glances at his phone, notes the text from Jimin letting him know the others are already on their way back. “You’re okay now?” he asks, just to be sure. “You don’t feel sick or anything?”
“No,” you say. You aren’t as pale now, which makes him feel calmer. “Sorry for… I don’t even know what to call it. Sorry for freaking out? You should go back and have fun.”
Taehyung wants to scoff at this, but holds it in. Go back? Go have fun? It’s taking everything he has to even leave your room right now. What he really wants to do is help you get ready for bed and lay next to you until you’re asleep. But that’s something else he no longer has a right to, and he’s taken enough liberties tonight, pushed enough boundaries.
“It’s fine,” he says, instead. “Don’t worry about it. The others are on their way back anyway, Jimin just texted me.”
“Okay,” you tell him. You hesitate and then add, “Thanks for the rescue. I know you probably… didn’t really want to do that. You always do the nice thing.”
Taehyung just stares at you. Didn’t want to do that? What the fuck did that mean? Didn’t want to do what - help you? Be there for you after he’d sent you spinning? Do you think he’s a monster?
Do you not know - truly not know - that he loves you? That he never stopped? All this time, he thought you knew and just didn’t care.
Taehyung feels, suddenly, like he understands nothing, like there’s nothing in his brain but marbles and circus music. He shakes his head, baffled, bewildered. “Sometimes, I just don’t understand you,” he says, because he’s got to articulate it. He’s never been so confused in his life.
“Yeah,” you say, and flop backwards on the bed, breaking eye contact. “That makes two of us.”
Well. That tells him nothing.
Taehyung heads for the door. He needs some air. He wishes he could go back to the lake where it all started for you two, walk through the forest and let nature tell him the answers again.
He pauses at the door. “Y/N,” he calls. You turn your head to look at him. “I mean it,” he tells you, shaking his head. “Don’t ever let Nikki dress you ever again. Seriously.”
For both our sakes, he thinks, and closes the door gently.
–
When Jimin returns to the hotel room, maybe fifteen minutes after Taehyung closes the door behind himself, he finds Taehyung sitting on the end of his bed, one hand over his face.
“Hi?” Jimin ventures. “What’s wrong, you trashed?”
“No,” Taehyung grumbles, pressing his eyes harder into the heel of his hand. “I think I really fucked it up with her, man.”
Jimin makes a noise of understanding, putting down his phone and his wallet on top of the hotel room’s desk. Some loose change rolls, lands with a clatter. “What happened?” he asks.
“Kissed her,” Taehyung mutters.
“No shit,” Jimin says sarcastically. “I saw. We all saw. The whole club saw.”
“Good, the motherfuckers,” Taehyung growls, and Jimin tosses a coin at his face.
Taehyung laughs a little as it bounces off his wrist, and that helps snap him out of the mood. “She freaked out after,” he admits, lowering his hands, searching idly for the coin Jimin tossed at him. He’s definitely going to keep that. Just out of spite. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
“She seemed pretty into it to me,” Jimin says. “Just saying.”
“She might have been,” Taehyung allows. “But the regret hit quick, I think.” Frustrated, he hangs his head, looking at his feet on the floor. Then, balefully, he looks back up at Jimin. “What am I doing?” he asks, and he can hear the desperation in his voice, can hear how pathetic and broken it sounds. “I can’t be around her. I can’t get over her like this. It’s like being stuck on the world’s sickest merry-go-round.”
Jimin twists his lips sympathetically. “Didn’t realize it was still this bad,” he says quietly.
“I don’t think I did either,” Taehyung admits. “Not until tonight. I can’t keep doing this, Chim. I really can’t. Something has to change. Maybe I need to move.”
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Jimin asks.
Taehyung shakes his head, and stands. The coin he was looking for winks up at him from the comforter. He picks it up, runs it between his fingers. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
Taehyung’s still in a mood the next day, but he tries to tamp it down, to be happy for Nikki and Seokjin. It’s a nice day - good weather. The river shines under the sunny skies, calling to mind days of early September, even though Thanksgiving isn’t too far off. He busies himself throwing a frisbee with Jungkook, perusing the food, avoiding your gaze. He notes that you look fine today, if a little tired. He doubts anyone else would even notice, but he knows you. He knows how you get tight around the eyes when something is weighing on you.
He decides he’ll apologize before you go home.
Around noon, Seokjin gathers everybody, presumably to make a birthday toast.
“Hello to our friends and family,” he says, smiling around at the small crowd. “As you know, today is a special day, because Nikki has turned twenty-five! However, there’s another reason I asked everyone to be here today. You are all so important to us, I wanted to make sure you were here to give us your love and support on the day that I ask Nikki to be my wife.”
Taehyung’s aware that Seokjin is kneeling, that Nikki’s hands are covering her mouth. But he can’t help it, he can’t help it. His eyes find you.
“Nikki,” Seokjin says slowly, “You are by far the absolute light of my life. You are the sun in my days, forever reminding me to see the things that are good around me. Without you, I’d be wandering in the dark.”
And Taehyung’s stomach twists and heaves, because that’s how it felt, being with you. That’s how it felt to love you. He’d been wandering in the dark, making mistake after mistake. You hadn’t even had to do anything to right his course; just by being there, you’d given him the support he needed to do it himself. He’d promised you he could do it right and he had.
And he’d lost you anyway.
Your eyes find his, across the circle of Nikki and Seokjin’s family and friends. You look… unsettled, unsure. He wishes he could talk to you - really talk to you, just one time, to find out where your head is at. He wants to know how you feel.
He wants to be able to move on from this, if that’s what’s happening.
Seokjin continues, “I am so lucky to wake up every day and get to call you mine, and I don’t want a single day to go by where that isn’t true. So, I am here today with our friends and families as witnesses, to ask you… will you marry me?”
Taehyung keeps his eyes on you, trying to glean anything from your reaction as Nikki screams and runs into Seokjin’s waiting embrace. He knows that could’ve been the two of you, he knows the potential was there. He knows he was ready to stand by you through hell or high water - in sickness and in health, richer or poorer, as Seokjin will have to say someday soon.
What’s left of that, now? Is any of it still lingering within you? Does any part of you still want to stand by him, too?
You break his gaze, clapping a little belatedly as you watch your best friend kiss her fiance. You give him nothing.
Maybe he should move.
–
Later, after the birthday cake is cut and slices are passed around, after some of the crowd has started to filter out, Taehyung heads to his car to check his phone. His dad had been texting him that morning that his mom wasn’t feeling well. He wants to make sure nothing new has happened.
He’s leaning against his car, answering one of his dad’s updates, when you walk up beside him, car keys in hand.
“Hey,” you say, unlocking your car and opening the trunk. “Everything okay?”
Taehyung takes his eyes off of his phone screen to look at you. Being tight-lipped about his mom’s health had fucked you guys up in the first place, so maybe now’s a good chance to try and do it differently, he thinks.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just got an update from my dad about what’s happening at home. I’ll probably have to go back pretty soon and give him a hand.”
“Your mom’s bad again?” you ask, brows wrinkling with concern.
“Today, apparently,” Taehyung admits. “It might not be a full-scale attack again, especially so soon after that last one. Sometimes she just has… weird days. But it’s a lot of work for my dad. He could use a break.”
You nod. Taehyung jerks his head towards the box you pull out from the trunk of your car. “What’d you get her?”
You grin at him, shifting the box into one hand and closing the trunk again. “Mr. and Mrs. coffee mugs and bathrobes,” you tell him. “Since I knew what was happening today.”
It’s the most normal conversation you two have had since before the breakup. “What if she had said no?” Taehyung teases, feeling suddenly playful. He’s missed this, bantering with you.
You laugh. “I guess I would’ve let Seokjin keep them as a condolence present,” you tell him. Then, you add, “Thank you, by the way, for helping me last night. Nikki thinks maybe I was having a panic attack? I’m not sure. I don’t know.”
This makes sense as soon as he hears it. He wants to hug you again, to hold you close and keep all the rest on the outside, but he knows he can’t.
He remembers at the lakehouse, feeling like the two of you were inside your own little bubble. It feels that way now, except he’s somehow inside and outside at the same time.
“You’re welcome,” he says after a second. “It would have been pretty shitty of me just to leave you there like that.”
You shrug. “Maybe I deserved shitty.”
Taehyung is surprised into silence. You? You hadn’t done anything wrong - he was the one who’d fucked up, again and again.
“I don’t think that,” he says vehemently. “I hope you don’t think I feel that way, Y/N.” He needs you to believe him.
You smile, a little sadly, but say nothing. Clearly, if Taehyung’s going to apologize to you, now’s the time.
“I, uh, I also wanted to apologize for… kissing you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot. “I was drinking, and you looked–” so fucking sexy “- I mean– I just shouldn’t have done that. It did not feel good to see you having an entire meltdown after. I felt like such an asshole for… playing with your head, I guess.”
He hadn’t meant to stir everything up, he hadn’t meant to cross lines with you that you weren’t comfortable with, hadn’t meant to send you reeling, warring with yourself. That hadn’t been his intention at all.
You give him a strange look, one he can’t really decode. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you say slowly. “I’m sorry I was messing with you before that. I started everything. It was… extremely uncool of me.”
Taehyung shrugs. You hadn’t really done anything except look too good. And really, he blames Nikki for that. “Don’t worry about it.”
You nod, looking away. You seem to decide something, resignation coming to rest over your features like a curtain after a play. “See you at work, Taehyung,” you tell him, locking your car and walking away.
Taehyung stands there and watches you go. He loves you still. He loves you, and it doesn’t even matter, because you’re the one who walked away. You’re always the one who walks away.
His phone rings in his hand, and he answers it without thinking, without giving his brain time to process. And just like it always does, the universe reprimands him for making it about himself, even for a minute.
“Hey,” his dad says on the other end, “I’m taking your mom to the hospital. No, no, don’t rush, drive safely. I just wanted to keep you informed. We’ll see you at the house, I have it under control.”
Thank you so much for reading! Please consider some form of feedback if you enjoyed!
Thank you to @kookstempo for telling me you hate me beta-ing!
@kookstempo - I finally finished this one!!! Here you go, mi amor, it's the recital scene!
Note: this one heavily references multiple scenes from Chapter 2!
Taehyung has always thought obituaries were kind of interesting. How often other people were described by their relation to others. A loving wife, friend, and mother…
How would Taehyung be described if the worst were to come prematurely to him?
He’s not a father yet - and thank god, frankly - so scratch that one.
He’s never been a husband, and he knows as well as anyone that he wouldn’t be described as a loving boyfriend to anyone; his last few girlfriends were probably burning his tshirts and cursing his name after the way things had ended.
He probably wouldn't be described as a great friend either. Jimin would say nice things at his funeral, sure, because Jimin’s a good guy. But Taehyung knows his side of the friendship is lacking - it’s hard to stay on equal footing with someone as naturally giving as Jimin, and Taehyung has a tendency to be a little self-centered. He knows it; he’s been working on it.
Jungkook would probably say that Taehyung was both a great friend and a fucking asshole, and Taehyung thought that was pretty fair.
Yoongi probably wouldn’t say anything, just silently pour out a cold one. And you know what? Taehyung would take what he could get.
So, not a loving husband, friend, or father.
But Taehyung knows what he has been good at, the role he has done right. If nothing else, Taehyung has always been a good son.
That’s why he’s here, now, sitting amongst a crowd of strangers on a pleasant, Sunday afternoon, waiting for his little cousin’s cello recital to start. His mom asked if he’d come, so he did.
He’s a good son.
He’s not a very good cousin, though, because even as his cousin’s string quartet sets up in the front, Taehyung is busy thinking about you.
It’s not his fault. It’s Jimin’s fault for texting him right as he was getting dressed to leave -
[9:54 AM] Jimin: so my sources say Y/N dumped the jerk on friday
[9:55 AM] Jimin: i know you wondered 🙃
[9:56 AM] Taehyung: “sources” 🙄 we all know u mean nikki
[9:58 AM] Jimin: pls how dare you??? y/n told me that herself
[9:59 AM] Jimin: bc we are FRIENDS 😤
So here Taehyung is, eyes scanning the paper program in his hand, but retaining nothing. Instead, he’s thinking about you, thinking about the fact that you’re single for the first time since he met you, thinking about how he could try to talk to you more at work tomorrow, thinking about how the woman six rows up has a neck that looks a lot like yours -
Actually, he thinks, as the woman turns slightly and he gets a glimpse of profile, that just might actually be you. At the front of the room, his cousin’s string quartet starts their first piece, the tempo dragging. He leans forward a little in his seat, peering closely.
Good god. It is you.
He’s startled by a crash at the front of the room. His cousin is covering her bright red face with both hands; her music stand is sideways on the ground, her music strewn across the floor in front of them. Two of the girls gather the music and straighten the stand while the violinist pats her shoulder comfortingly.
Taehyung is barely watching this circus. Instead, he’s taken his phone out of his pocket and pulled up your contact information. You’d exchanged numbers back when you had first started working together, but had never texted.
What could he possibly say to you, now? His mind is a blank - he’s half-tempted to turn to the stranger in the seat next to him and ask for advice. Could he just send "hey”? How about “are you enjoying the fiasco”?
As he watches his cousin try to regroup, shuffling her music sheets to get them back in the correct order, he gets an idea.
[11:37 AM] Taehyung: do you think it would make them less nervous if I sang along really off-key?
He can barely contain his grin as he watches you receive the text. You glance at your phone, unbothered, and then do a quick double-take. He presses his lips together to fight back a giggle as he watches you swing your head around to scan the crowd for his face.
He wonders somewhat absently what you’re even doing here.
He texts you again - “other side :)” and your eyes meet his within seconds. You look - aside from beautiful, just like always - completely bewildered to see him there. When your face breaks into an uncertain smile, Taehyung feels like he could spring off of his feet and fly through the ceiling. Without thinking, he nods down at the empty seat to his left. You’re up and moving in seconds, and Taehyung feels his chest somehow swell with happiness and constrict with nerves at the same time.
He tries his best to play it cool when you drop into the chair next to him, your dress settling over your knees, your heel-clad feet tucked under the folding chair. You smell great - like lilac, he thinks.
“Hi,” he whispers, knowing he’s smiling like a dope but unable to do anything about it. Luckily, you seem to be in a similar state.
“Hello,” you whisper back to him. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Taehyung cuts his eyes at his little cousin, who has nearly finished her piece without knocking anything over this time, and points at her accusingly.
“The very stylish tomato is my little cousin,” he whispers, referencing how her face is still beet-red.
“Wow,” you say, eyes adorably wide. “I don’t think I love any of my cousins enough to sit through something like this.”
A laugh escapes him, and a few heads turn. His aunt leans forward to whack him generously with her rolled up paper program. Taehyung raises his hands to protect his head, shooting her an apologetic look. Of course he’d end up looking like a scolded child in front of you. How embarrassing…
He notices you watching this, the same bewildered look on your face that you’ve had since he texted you.
“My aunt,” he explains, his voice as quiet as he can possibly make it. He doesn’t want to get smacked in front of a pretty girl again.
His cousin’s quartet finishes a second piece without incident, and a piano student goes next. Taehyung is barely aware of anything except the warmth radiating from where your hip almost touches his from the seat next to him, the smell of lilac clinging to his jacket, the way you sway gently to the beat of the badly played music.
When the tiny pianist is done, you lean over towards Taehyung and he fights to keep his hands in his lap, to resist the urge to wrap his arm around your shoulders and close the space between you under the guise of hearing you better.
“I’m going to tell you two things,” you whisper, your face and tone extremely serious. “One: I love this little human more than anyone on this Earth. Two: this is going to hurt your ears, and I am sorry.”
Taehyung fights another laugh - he finds your sense of humor so charming he can barely stand it - and nods to show he understands.
He recognizes the little girl with the violin from the many times he’s seen her join you at work. You’re undeniably sisters, he thinks, noticing how she’s practically a mini version of you.
When she tucks the violin under her chin and starts her piece, it becomes extremely clear that you hadn’t been lying. Taehyung fights a grimace as the high ceiling’s acclaimed acoustics echo the ungodly screeches back down to the crowd in full stereo.
Still, he thinks. To sit next to you for another hour? Worth it.
–
Taehyung spends the little refreshment hour after the recital trying to act engaged and impressed so his aunt won’t call him out for spending the whole day flirting with you, and he thinks he does it successfully. He can’t help but watch you across the room, though, can’t help but think about everything that had happened on Friday night.
He’s not usually an over-thinker, but that night had been so full of events that now Taehyung can’t help but wonder if it had been one of those cosmically damning nights, one where things just shift, where the universe makes major changes whether you’re ready or not.
It had honestly started with that guy bugging you at the bar. Taehyung’s pretty convinced that if he hadn’t interfered, if he had stayed in his seat, then you wouldn’t have come to sit next to him at the table. Then, you might not have fought with your boyfriend, might not have gone outside and apparently dumped him. Nikki might not have come inside just in time to hear Taehyung get completely called out by Jimin about his interest in you.
But instead, he’d stood up as soon as he’d seen your shoulders tense at the bar across the room, his steps speeding up as he saw you take a step away from the stranger and the stranger fill the space. Instead, he’d broken the invisible barrier and been the first one to touch you, wrapping a protective arm over your shoulders, his eyes cutting sideways at the guy. Taehyung’s still not sure if he had imagined the way you’d melted into the touch, pressed yourself more solidly against his side. Probably he’d imagined it.
It had been nice when you’d come back to the table with him, he’d really enjoyed talking and laughing with you and Jimin.
Until your boyfriend showed up.
Honestly, that wasn’t even the problem - Taehyung could tell with one glance that if things got ugly, he’d be fine. He’d been completely prepared to stand up and tell that guy to fuck right off, that you hadn’t done anything wrong, not to talk to you like that. But then he’d caught sight of your face.
You’d looked stricken… caught… guilty. And Taehyung had felt instantly terrible for playing a part in that. So, when you’d stood up and followed the guy outside, he’d let it go, let you handle your own shit.
But here, two days later, he still felt guilty. He’s thinking about this as he helps his little cousin load her cello case into the back of his aunt’s minivan. The sky above threatens rain - the clouds hang low, heavy, and such a dark grey that they’re very nearly purple. As he closes the mini-van’s trunk securely and heads back inside the hall, he feels a few drops of rain land on his arms.
Inside, he sees you in the hall. You stop when you see him, smiling just a little.
“It’s getting ready to pour out there,” he tells you, because it seems like you were heading that way.
“Oh,” you say. You peek around him, clearly trying to get a glimpse of the sky so you can decide if you agree with this assessment or not. “I guess I better get her inside.”
Taehyung looks at his feet. He has to say something. He doesn’t want to continue on wondering if he messed things up for you.
“Hey, Y/N,” he says hesitantly, to get your attention. You look at him openly, and he’s struck again by how damn pretty you are. “Listen… about Friday night…”
“Oh,” you say, mouth dropping into a frown. Taehyung’s stomach twists. You don’t say anything else, and Taehyung knows he has to push forward, adrenaline be damned.
“I wanted to apologize,” he admits, “if I… accidentally…” He doesn’t know where the sentence wants to go. If I accidentally broke up your relationship? That seems so dramatic. If I accidentally made problems for you? What if you think he’s blowing things out of proportion?
“Taehyung,” you say, taking pity on him, “it’s really sweet of you to feel like you need to say sorry, but you have nothing to apologize for.”
Taehyung’s not sure he agrees with that, but you don’t give him the chance to object, continuing with, “Beyond nothing, seeing as you helped me out with that asshole at the bar. You didn’t do anything wrong. We were just talking, there’s nothing going on here.”
Taehyung knew that - of course he did - but the words still sting, just a little.
“I know that,” he says, “but I think it looked bad. I just can’t help wondering if you had been at the other end of the table with Nikki…” He trails off again.
You shake your head, stopping his spiral in place. “Ben and I broke up last night - which I assume you know because Jimin has a big mouth - but I promise it had nothing to do with you. It was… a long time coming. To say the least.”
Taehyung twists his mouth. There’s a lot he could address - yes, he knew, yes, Jimin can’t keep gossip to himself to save his life, yes, he still thinks that it had a little to do with him. Those last words hit him, though. A long time coming. He’d overheard enough around the office to know that your relationship hadn’t been a fairy tale by any means, that you had been unhappy for a while. He’d always wondered what it was that made you stay as long as you did.
Maybe the best thing to do right now, he thinks, is just be happy that you did it - you got out, you broke the cycle. Maybe that’s enough, for now.
“I’m still really sorry,” he tells you, even though he thinks maybe he’s apologizing for things you don’t even know about. Like how he’s happy the breakup happened. “I hope you’re okay.” That part’s true.
You nod, eyes leaving his as you watch the still-darkening sky behind him.
“I will be,” you say.
He knows you will. And he knows he’ll be ready for you, when the time comes.
Warnings: language, drinking, overdrinking, Taehyung is going THRU it with this hangover and throws up multiple times but I tried really hard to just allude to it like 'he ran for the toilet' etc and there is nooooo description i am a squeamish baby
The request:
@pamzn I hope you like this one! I'm so glad you came up with this idea, it was super fun to do!
A/N: This is most of Chapter 9 :)
It takes Jimin and Jungkook both to convince Taehyung to attend the Halloween party. He didn't want to go, for a myriad of reasons.
One: a house party - what is he, twenty? He hasn’t been to a house party since he was in college, and it wasn’t really his scene back then, either.
Two: a costumed house party. Normally, Taehyung likes costumed events, chances to be a little creative with his appearance, but he’s just not feeling it these days. All that silly stuff… it all just feels a little out of reach, like he doesn’t have the emotional energy to spare on it.
Three: Jimin heard from Nikki that you were going, too.
Number Three is enough to make him want to stay home, all on its own.
“You need to adjust your attitude,” Jimin tells him, perched on the arm of one of the couches in the basement. “Why is everyone determined to have a terrible time tonight? Nikki says that between Jin and Y/N she’s -.”
“There it is,” Taehyung mutters.
“Excuse me?” Jimin asks, brows high, all sass. They both know he heard Taehyung fine, despite the loud music playing across the room.
“Why is everyone ‘determined to have a bad time’? You invited my ex,” Taehyung says flatly.
Jimin rolls his eyes with his whole body, somehow. It’s a gift he has.
“Firstly,” he says, and Taehyung looks at Jungkook for backup, because Jimin’s attitude is beyond what he can deal with tonight, “I didn’t invite Y/N, Nikki did, so you can be a bitch to her when she gets here. Secondly, that doesn’t explain why Seokjin is complaining in the groupchat, too.”
Jungkook leans over. “Do you guys think bugs have feelings?”
Taehyung and Jimin both just stare at him. He blinks back at them, all innocence. “What?” he asks. “You’ve never wondered? If they, like, have bug friends, and feel sad when their bug friend goes missing?”
“I’m getting another drink,” Taehyung says. He’s already practically vibrating with nerves over seeing you, pissed off that he’s here and not hiding at home, and now he’s got both Jimin and Jungkook acting up. Bad mood or not, he needs Seokjin to get there fast.
Upstairs, he gets Jimin a fresh vodka cranberry - hopefully it’ll mellow the Sass-Master out a little - and mixes something for himself, too.
You’ve got to get it together, he tells himself as he stirs. The truth is, he knows he’d have fun tonight if they removed the you factor. He eyes the two cups, then decides to pour himself a shot for the road before going back down the stairs. Then he won’t have to come back up as quickly.
The liquor hits him like courage; he imagines he can feel it in his legs. Bolstered, he takes the two cups he’d prepared and makes his way down to the basement again. Jimin’s pleased that Taehyung made his drink without being asked, and sweetens immediately, the attitude melting right away. Taehyung actually manages to have a little fun for a while.
Until his phone buzzes against his leg, and he opens it to see Seokjin announcing his arrival, the girls in tow.
Nikki just likes to torture him. Taehyung’s suspected this for a long time, and tonight it’s confirmed. She could have done any cute coupley costume with Seokjin. Instead, she left him to figure something out, and dressed herself and you in blue fairy costumes that are more body glitter than fabric - unless you count the wings.
He fucking hates her, right now. Goddamn.
He’s trying really hard to keep his eyes off your exposed navel when you meet his gaze, smiling a little sheepishly.
“Vampire?” you ask him.
Oh, he’d like to lure you into his lair.
Not trusting himself to speak, he nods, then empties his cup into his mouth.
Too bad you haven’t spoken in months. Too bad you left him and have no interest in looking back.
“I’m empty,” he says, needing the escape badly. “Anyone else need anything?”
“Beer, please,” Jungkook says, oblivious to how Taehyung’s throat is working, how he wets his lips, how his leg shakes. He needs out of this basement.
Upstairs again, he breathes in the bright fluorescents of the kitchen, the noise of voices that don’t belong to you, the pounding bass of music from the living room. He comes back to himself bit by bit.
He’s too sober to survive this. He makes a new drink, throws back one more shot, nearly forgets Jungkook’s beer.
The shot helps, and a few more hours pass a little less painfully; Yoongi and his girlfriend join the group and you all play some drinking games. Taehyung works on avoiding your gaze, avoiding any interaction with you at all. He sticks to Jimin, to Jungkook, to Yoongi, to Seokjin. He’s got options, and if he keeps his eyes on his cup he can almost forget you’re over there, stomach flexing as you reach for a card.
Almost.
The next time Taehyung needs to refill his cup, Jimin joins him. He’s feeling looser now, kind of floaty. The party blurs at the edges. It no longer feels like he’s being assaulted by each voice, by every stranger’s pressing presence.
Jimin checks his phone as Taehyung pours. “Y/N wants a beer,” he announces.
“No she fucking doesn’t,” Taehyung scoffs. He doesn’t even mean to say it, he kind of means to think it. But he knows you don’t even really like beer - it was something you have in common.
Jimin frowns dramatically, raising his eyebrow as if to say oh really? He types, waits for a response. “She says she does,” he says, holding out his phone as proof.
Taehyung’s tempted to mix you a rum and coke anyway, since he knows that’s your go-to, but he decides to let it go.
When Jimin heads back downstairs, Taehyung stays. He goes outside for a little, catches his breath. He checks the time on his phone; it’s not even 12:30. He’s got hours to go. With a sigh, he heads back into the kitchen.
His timing is terrible. You stand with your back to him, those awful blue fairy wings wiggling as you move to mix your drink. He thinks about sneaking away, but his cup is somehow empty again.
Huh. How’d that happen?
Carefully, he makes his way around you, reaching for the vodka bottle and lining up one of the little plastic shot glasses. He can feel you fucking looking at him, so he glances sideways at you and asks, “You want one?”
“No thanks,” you say, and there’s a lot in your tone that he’d really like an explanation for. Something chagrined, something guilty, something lacking. “I’m trying to keep my bad decisions to a minimum tonight.”
His head spins as he nods, but he pours the shot anyway. He’s lost count of these, not to mention the refills in his cup. However, he can say for sure that he wouldn’t have been able to stand here and talk to you like this three drinks ago.
“Well, cheers anyway,” he says, and takes his shot. It doesn’t even burn. Which, maybe that should concern him. He’s too preoccupied with your presence to notice or care. “You having fun?” he asks, just to ask something. Just to say something that isn’t goddamn do you see what you did to my heart? Don’t you see it there, on the ground, a pulpy mess?
“No,” you say, eyes on the floor. He lets out a breath. He’s relieved that you’re being honest. He’s relieved that this sucks for you, too. “You?”
He almost laughs in your face. “No,” he says. Of fucking course I’m not, he wants to say. How could I be? How could this possibly be fun for me?
He’s not sure at what point he started feeling angry, but he’s suddenly pissed. His mind is racing, ranting about you having the audacity to talk to him like things are normal, when you ask, “Would you have more fun if I left?”
That unnamable something still lingers in your voice; it’s like you know you’re torturing him by being here, and you want to make yourself small, to make the hurt small, too.
And fuck you for that, really. You don’t get to be nice, or understanding right now, not while he’s mad at you.
“I don’t think so,” he says, because he’s not going to give you the satisfaction. Fuck you, fuck you, he thinks.
“I’m going back downstairs,” you say, after a tense silence. “See you down there?”
“Sure,” he says, and reaches to pour one more shot.
It’s the last thing he remembers at all.
–
When he wakes up, Taehyung is aware of three things right away:
One, he’s on a floor, not in a bed.
Two, his head is splitting into five thousand pieces, has already split into shards and now those shards are stabbing the inside of his head in choreographed pulses.
Three, he has definitely thrown up recently.
“Chim?” he croaks, trying not to sit up. “JayKay?”
There’s movement near his feet, and someone leans over him.
“I’ve died, right?” he asks, eyes closed.
There’s a quiet laugh, and then someone is pressing a cold water bottle into his hand.
“I can’t drink this,” Taehyung groans, pressing his forehead into the cold tiles of what must be his bathroom floor. “I’ll - oh god, I’m gonna -.”
When he’s able to speak again, flushing the toilet and standing on shaky legs to rinse his mouth out in the sink, Jimin returns to the doorway, having left to give Taehyung a little privacy.
“How many times have I done that?” Taehyung asks, his voice coming out raspy.
“That was three,” Jimin says. “How do you feel now?”
Taehyung can’t even answer for a minute, he’s too busy dropping back to the floor, sweating palms pressing flat to the cold tile in a desperate attempt to get the room to hold still. “I think I’m really going to die,” he whines, eyes squeezed shut.
“Try and sleep a little more,” Jimin suggests.
“God, I can’t, the room is -.”
“Just lay there and breathe slowly, okay? I’ll check on you in a few hours if I don’t hear you, see if you can drink water by then.”
Taehyung does as Jimin says, keeps his eyes closed, focuses on the solid tile under his palms, under his forehead. The room spins around him, around and up, around and down, around and around and around. He breathes through his mouth.
Eventually, he must drift back off.
When he wakes up a second time, there’s a little bit of light coming through the cracked bathroom window, that unique pre-dawn blue. Trying to breathe slowly, Taehyung sits up, trying to assess the damage.
He could definitely throw up again, and probably will, but the room isn’t spinning anymore. Opening his eyes doesn’t feel like torture. His head is still pulsing with that headache, and his adrenaline surges every time he tries to move. But if he holds very still, it’s better than it was before.
Just hold still, that’s the goal. Play dead.
He lays back down, this time reaching up and pulling down a towel to use as a pillow. He doesn’t feel the need to cling to the floor this time.
After a while, he hears a phone vibrate out in his bedroom, and a few minutes later Jimin shuffles to the door again, yawning.
“You good?” he asks, when he sees that Taehyung’s eyes are open now.
“Better than before,” Taehyung says quietly. “The spins are gone. My head’s killing me though, and I am not confident that leaving this spot is a good idea.”
Jimin chuckles lightly. “You think you can keep down some water?”
“Not sure,” Taehyung admits, “but I should probably try, right?”
Jimin passes him the water bottle that’s been sitting by the sink and rummages in the medicine cabinet for some painkillers. As Taehyung rearranges himself into a position where he can take the pills and drink the water without spilling, Jimin sits on the edge of the bathtub.
“Do you feel well enough for me to lecture you a little?” he asks seriously.
“Oh god,” Taehyung says, stomach sinking, which triggers his nausea again. He presses a hand to his face. “What did I do? I didn’t throw up on anybody, did I?”
Jimin shakes his head. “Nothing like that. Just… I don’t want to see you make a habit of this, Tae. I’m not going to babysit you every weekend while you wreck your liver, okay?”
Taehyung feels guilty instantly. “Yeah, I got it,” he murmurs. And then, somewhere between defensive and petulant, he adds, “I told you not to invite her. I would’ve been fine if…”
If she hadn’t been there.
Jimin tuts. “Speaking of which… you were not nice to her. She’s the one who found you basically passed out on the floor, and you definitely upset her.”
The tug of guilt and embarrassment sends Taehyung scrambling for the toilet again, and Jimin moves nimbly out to the bedroom again until the coast is clear.
“Shit,” Taehyung mutters after gargling some mouthwash. “I was where? What’d I say to her?”
Taehyung listens to Jimin explain what had happened after he’d blacked out the night before as he settles himself back on the floor.
“She found you on the floor,” Jimin says seriously. “She texted me to come help.”
“Jesus,” Taehyung muttered, burning with embarrassment. “Sorry, bro. I didn’t… I didn’t do this on purpose. I was just…” He trails off, but they both know.
“Then you told me - right in front of her - to make her go away,” Jimin continues. “You literally said the words I don’t want her here.”
“Fuck,” Taehyung mumbles. “She heard that?”
Jimin softens, just a touch. “I think she understood,” he allows. “But even so… it probably hurt anyway.”
“I’ll apologize,” Taehyung promises, not sure who he’s promising.
When the sun is fully up and it’s clear that Taehuyng isn’t going to choke on any bodily fluids and die, Jimin gathers his things and gets ready to leave.
“Jungkook’s out on your couch, maybe he’ll make you breakfast later,” Jimin muses. “You good in there for a little bit?”
Taehyung considers his set-up: he’s got his phone fully charged, a towel-pillow, and a water bottle. For now, that’s all he needs, aside from proximity to his porcelain jailor.
“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks, Chim.”
Alone in his bathroom, Taehyung’s stomach churns - and not from the hangover, from guilt. He shouldn’t have upset you, he shouldn’t have lashed out at you. He opens his phone and pulls up a new text. It takes him a long time, a lot of typing and erasing, but finally he sends you -
[8:54 am] Taehyung: hey
[8:55 am] Taehyung: i have been informed that i may have hurt your feelings last night
[8:59 am] Taehyung: so… i’m sorry if i hurt your feelings. I’m also sorry for getting out of control. I guess i owe you a thank you for getting me out of there
[9:01 am] Taehyung: if it makes you feel any better… karma is kicking my ass this morning… currently on my bathroom floor and i don’t see myself moving anytime soon…
When he finally braves sitting up, he checks his phone. After he successfully showers and changes into clean sweatpants, he checks his phone. After Jungkook brings him greasy food to eat in his bed, he checks his phone.
He waits for you to answer, waits for you to forgive him, waits for you to absolve him, waits for you to commiserate.
You never do.
Thank you for being here! You can find my full masterlist here :)
@pamzn here you go, my love! I present my masterpiece, "Taehyung Goes for a Walk" lololol
Note: Taehyung's narration references some events from chapters 1 and 2, but it heavily references the events of chapter 3. It might not hurt to give chapter 3 a quick skim first if you don't remember it well!
This drabble would take place after chapter 3 and before chapter 4.
If you haven't read Complete Faith, this does not really work as a stand-alone because of the events referenced.
Taehyung barely manages to sleep the first night at the lake. He falls asleep hard when he first hits the bed, but he’s awake again in just a few hours. The second he’s awake, his mind starts chattering, a million thoughts at once. His mind races through his last twenty-four hours. Damn, what a day.
It had started with Seo-yun breaking up with him and cancelling on the trip. He didn’t fault her for it. The truth was she was right about everything she said. But did she really have to wait until he came to pick her up to do it? Surely she’d made the decision before then.
He’d gone to her front door, ready to help carry her suitcase out to the car. She’d answered the door, empty-handed and stone-faced.
“Taehyung,” she’d said, voice quivering slightly with nerves, “we need to talk.”
Now, in his narrow bed in the lakehouse, he flops onto his side, eyes finding the stars outside his window. It’s starting to get light - the sky just barely tinged blue down near the horizon. With a sigh, he rises. He needs some clarity. He needs some air.
He needs to think.
He pauses on the deck outside, watching the sky over the lake. In the trees near the shoreline, birds are starting to wake up, calling loudly. Out here in the fresh air, under the stars, listening to the calm lapping of the lake, Taehyung can admit something that makes him feel squiggly with guilt: he isn’t upset about Seo at all.
The second he’d walked out of the house last night and saw you down by the picnic table, it was as if Seo - and the whole month and a half that they’d been together - didn’t even exist anymore, a slate wiped completely clean.
He’d known you’d be there, but when he’d come out on the deck and saw you laughing at something Jimin said and stretching your legs towards the firepit… it had made his chest tighten, his pulse race.
You - you’re eclipsing.
You make everything else just not matter, and Taehyung’s felt that way for ages.
As it starts to get light enough to see, Taehyung sighs and shifts. It had been a thrill to see you when he’d arrived, but a lot happened after that. He decides it’s light enough to go walking; that’s what his mind needs. He needs his body to move in order for the thoughts to untangle, unravel, straighten out and make sense again.
He has a lot to think about.
Firstly, how he’d felt last night, watching you unpack. He’d leaned on your doorframe, hoping he looked chill, but his heart had been galloping. It felt, so much, like the start of something. It felt, even though you’d barely talked yet, so intimate.
Any time he found himself alone with you, it always felt the same – like it was just you and him, speaking the same language, understanding each other. Everyone else had to stay on the outside. Something was special between you two.
Not to mention that it was new, and exciting, and he just wanted to keep finding little ways to make you laugh.
When he’d started to get in his head about Seo, you’d calmed him down with just a word. As he walks through the half-dark of early dawn, he laughs out loud at this. A word, that’s all it took from you and he was grounded again. A word, and his nerves calmed, his intrusive thoughts settling down like autumn leaves.
God fucking damn. He’s never felt anything like this in his life.
When he’d paused at the table and asked you to take a shot with him, he’d been nervous – and Taehyung doesn’t get nervous with women. He’d felt like you were sharing something, like you were having a moment together, doing something together – just you two; how fucking stupid was that? But that feeling was there – that feeling like you two were encased in your own glass bubble.
Then, of course, things had gotten messy. He doesn’t know what was going through your mind during the Never Have I Ever game, but shit – that had sucked. You’d said - after, at the lakeside - that you’d wanted to know. The fuck does that mean?
His feet lead him around the house and up the driveway, heading for the long, dirt road that would eventually connect to a two-land highway. He figured he’d walk to the junction and back. Ahead of him, he can see that the sun is starting to rise, the horizon starting to look faintly yellow.
It had felt terrible when he’d had to put a finger down and admit to cheating in the past; he’d honestly considered lying about it. He’d felt so many things all at once – the residual guilt and regret that he always felt when he thought about that night and the girl whose heart he’d hurt, but also shame and fear… like now you’d know something about his character that would change your mind, scare you away. Ruin everything before it could even start.
And anger. Anger that you’d put him on blast like that, anger that he had to confess to this lack of judgment when you obviously had your own shit, too.
As he walks, birds chirping and swooping around him, he considers the fact that the night had ended just fine, despite everything. So, with hindsight, he wouldn’t change anything that happened. But part of him wishes he hadn’t reacted with anger. Nikki had texted him after he’d clapped back at you, called him a fucking asshole. He knew he deserved it.
At least you’d forgiven him, understood him. At least he’d had the chance to clear things up with you.
It had felt like shit to see that you were crying when he found you by the lakeside. But things had ended okay, hadn’t they?
He thinks about what he’d told you the night before, in the dark, with the lake standing sentinel, a silent witness.
“I feel like I’m broken, sometimes,” he’d said.
And you’d told him that maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he wasn’t broken, maybe he was searching – searching for something no one had been willing to give him, searching the wrong way, searching by closing his eyes and turning out the lights. How could anyone succeed that way? Of course none of those relationships had worked out.
As he nears the end of the dirt road, he stands and looks around. The mountains rise in the distance, sheets of fog clinging to dark treelines. Dew clings to the grass around him. Everything’s quite a bit lighter now. A lone car – a silver sedan - drives past, not even slowing down. Taehyung turns and heads back the way he came.
He’d really liked Seo. She worked at a music store in town and gave guitar lessons to kids on the side. He’d loved that about her; he’d gone in there to “look for records” almost every day for a week before finally getting the balls to ask her out. They’d had a good time – he’d been in it.
Until he wasn’t.
He couldn’t say what happened – he never fucking could, because nothing happened. His big, dumb brain just decided, okay, that’s enough. Then, like a switch had been flipped, he’d find himself rolling his eyes when she texted, avoiding her calls when they came in, finding reasons to be busy when she wanted to go out.
And Seo, just like the last three or four girls before her, had told him to get lost and waste someone else’s time. Which, fair.
As the lakehouse comes into view at the very end of the street, tiny and still, Taehyung lets his mind return to you, and everything that happened last night.
Everything that almost happened.
He’d been so close to kissing you. Even remembering it now, the next morning, makes his pulse sing and his legs tingle. Damn Nikki for ruining the moment. He’s going to put salt in her coffee before this trip is over.
He hopes another moment will come along.
He passes the house and follows one of the trails that will take him down to the water; he doesn’t want to go inside yet. He feels better than when he left, but he’s got a few more things to mull over.
For example, the last thing you’d said to him the night before: don’t do it to me.
Will he? Of course he doesn’t want to – to hurt you, to play games with you, to lose interest a month or so in – he never wants to. It just happens. It sucks every time.
The dirt trail curls around the edge of the lake, towards the deeper part of the forest. The sun is a little higher now, and the fog that was hanging heavy over the water is starting to evaporate. It’s humid already, and his t-shirt sticks to his back as he walks.
He comes to a clear spot at the water’s edge – it must be frequently used by people trying to fish, or launching canoes or kayaks. He sits, the pebbles digging into the backs of his legs and his ass. He ignores it, mind working hard.
Don’t do it to me.
He lets his gaze go unfocused, the flat expanse of the dark lake and the looming mountain on the other side blurring into shapes and colors as he plays these words back again and again.
Don’t do it to me.
Don’t.
Can he do it? Can he promise you that he won’t fuck it up? Can he keep the promise?
He thinks about the first time he ever saw you at work, back on your first day. It had been painfully obvious how nervous you were, but you’d kept a sheepish smile on your face all day long, even when you had to ask a hundred questions. He’d been endeared from the start.
Not to mention you were so freaking cute.
He throws a pebble into the lake, watching the circles grow, overlap, fade, vanish.
He thinks about the day you’d all gone to the bar together and some guy had been bothering you. When Taehyung had put his arm around you, you’d melted into his touch, melded against his side like you belonged there. He hadn’t wanted to let go when you’d arrived safely back at your table.
He remembers the guilty, caught look on your face when that shitty ex of yours had shown up, glaring at Taehyung like he’d had his hand in your shirt or something.
He remembers how quickly you’d moved through the crowd when he’d texted you at his cousin’s recital, teeth chewing on your lips to literally fight off a smile.
He throws another pebble. More circles. He looks at the sky, what bit of it he can see through the heavy branches above him.
Would he do the same thing with you? Would he find himself in six, seven weeks hitting the silencing button on your calls?
He thinks about how his heart had jumped when he’d glimpsed you in the yard yesterday. How soft your voice was when you’d told him to forget about Seo and to come have fun. He thinks about how openly you’d looked at him by the lake last night as you talked about your last relationship. He thinks about the firmness in your tone when you’d told him he had to do it right, or not at all.
He thinks about the feeling he gets with you – the one he’s never felt before, the one no one else has ever brought out in him – like you two speak your own special language, like you understand him when he barely says anything at all, and he understands you, too.
He wants to do it right. He wants to be better – for you. You make him want to do better, to be better. He wants to prove to you that what he feels for you is different than what he felt for any of those girls before, that it can’t disappear without notice the way simple attraction did. He wants to put in the work that relationships take, for however long he needs to, until you trust him to stay.
Can he do it? Can he promise you he won’t bail? Can he keep the promise, guard your heart for you?
He thinks about how the night ended last night, after Nikki had ruined what would have been a fucking incredible kiss –
Your hand, small and cool, fitting in his like they were meant to fit together. Your hand, fingers clutching him tightly, like he could dispel all your fears. Your hand, trusting him to guide you through the dark night, back home.
Taehyung always finds clarity outdoors. As he mulls over the singular, unique way you make him feel – only you – the mountains and the trees and the lake and the quickly dissipating mist envelop him to whisper into his ear with certainty: he loves you.
He’s in love with you, and he can do it.
He can.
He will.
<- Ch 3 | Masterpost | Ch 4 ->
Thank you so much for reading!
A big thank you for @kookstempo for beta-ing this on a DINOSAUR and for telling me nice things after :( :( :(
Warnings: this is a fucking horny mess aka Taehyung is YEARNING and 75% of that yearning is from his pants, language, beer exists idk
The request:
@pamzn okay darling, I present Taehyung Goes for a Swim
A/N: I’m sorry this is so horny lmfao I dm’ed @kookstempo that this drabble would be challenging bc I felt like for these scenes Taehyung’s POV would just be “boobs boobs boobs boobs boobs boobs” hahahaha I tried to class it up a little, hope I succeeded!
This drabble can stand alone but might be kind of boring without the context? The events are from Chapter 4.
When Taehyung leaves the woods and heads back to the house, it’s clear that the rest of the group has started their day. A cooler has been placed at the beginning of the dock, in the shade of the trees around the house, and a few of the guys mill around it, adding water bottles and beer, probably.
Halfway down the dock, he can see you flapping your towel, getting it ready to lay out. Taehyung almost trips over his own feet. You're in jean shorts and a plain, black triangle bikini top and you've got on giant, bug-eye sunglasses that are way too big for your face. He hears, sees, thinks in only static for a minute. This is going to be one of the hardest days of his life. Pun intended, probably, if he can’t get a fucking grip.
Stop staring, don’t be creepy, Taehyung tells himself - for the first of surely many times that day.
He heads into the house, where Jimin and Jungkook are in the kitchen, debating if they want to swim around first or take out the paddleboards.
“Bro,” Jimin calls, waving him over. “Y/N got you a tea and a breakfast sandwich.”
“Y/N got everybody coffee and a breakfast sandwich. You’re not special,” Jungkook corrects.
“She got him tea, not coffee. That’s special,” Jimin objects.
Taehyung makes his way over, picking up the travel cup. He looks at it silently, considering. Considering the fact that you’d remembered he doesn’t drink coffee, that he prefers hot tea. He’s not used to being cared for like that. It’s… nice.
He notices Jungkook peering out at the lake through the little window above the kitchen sink. He recognizes the look on Jungkook’s face, and his stomach twists with irritation.
“Yah!” he says sternly, giving Jungkook a whack on the belly. Honestly, it hurts Taehyung’s hand more than it could ever hurt Jungkook. “Quit looking! Be respectful!”
Jungkook turns and gives him a look. “Explain to me what the problem is, Kim.”
“You’re leering,” Taehyung says, frowning deeply. “And that’s Nikki and Y/N out there, so you’re either leering at Jin’s girl or -.”
Or mine.
Jungkook raises an eyebrow, daring him to finish the sentence. Jimin’s eyes go wide with withheld mirth, and he turns away before he can laugh.
“Screw both of you,” Taehyung grumbles, but he knows he’s caught. “I’m going upstairs to change, then let’s take out the paddleboards.”
Ignoring the looks that Jungkook and Jimin are exchanging at his expense, Taehyung does as he says and heads upstairs, changing quickly into swim trunks and a loose white tshirt. Back downstairs, he passes Namjoon, who is sitting at the kitchen table in front of his open laptop.
“Work?” Taehyung asks, and Namjoon finishes typing whatever sentence he was on before raising his eyes to meet Taehyung’s.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I should be done in a few hours, but I’m on a deadline for this -.”
“No worries,” Taehyung assures him. “Hey, if the wifi reaches far enough, you could always work outside and feel like you’re at least getting some sun!”
Namjoon makes an agreeable noise, his eyes already back on his screen. Taehyung gives him a jaunty wave - not that Joon will even see it - and heads outside. The girls are on their towels out on the dock, heads together as they talk. Hoseok and his girlfriend are down in the water already, and it must be cold judging by her squeals and how she clings to him like a koala. Jimin and Jungkook are nearby, their heads both wet already. Knowing them, they probably both jumped head first.
Taehyung avoids the dock - not because you’re there in that damn bikini, just because - and heads down the beach instead. The sand is already hot under his feet, and he pauses a second to pull off his tshirt, tossing it back towards the grassy yard. He pauses by Hoseok, scanning the scene.
“Where are the hyungs?” he asks, noticing Jin and Yoongi are missing.
“They took the canoe,” Hoseok tells him. “I think maybe they want to fish?”
Taehyung looks across the water, but he doesn’t see the canoe. They must have turned the bend to the west already, blocked from view by the slow slope of the mountain. He gives a nod and then wades deeper. The water, cool and dark, rises to meet his stomach, then his chest. Once he finds himself on tiptoes, he pushes his feet against the muddy floor of the lake and swims the rest of the way over to where Jimin and Jungkook are treading water and talking.
Here, he spends some time talking and splashing, occasionally just floating on the lake’s surface, feeling the run’s rays like happiness soaking directly into his arms, legs, face. After a while, the guys climb the dock and take turns doing flips off of the end - which, of course, greatly disrupts the sunbathing girls.
“You’re dripping on my towel,” Taehyung hears you say to Jimin, before he races down the dock. Taehyung stays down in the water where it’s safe; his survival game-plan is to keep at least five feet between the two of you at all times. But he’s really struggling to keep his eyes to himself. God, he can see so much skin, and it looks soft and warm under the light of the midmorning sun -
Jungkook splashes him in the face. “You’re drooling, bro.”
Taehyung groans in frustration and slips under the water, scrubbing at his face like he can erase the mental image of your thighs. (He can’t. Goddamn.)
When you stand and make your way to the cooler a bit later, Taehyung watches from the corners of his eyes. The game-plan might be to keep his distance, but he’s secretly hoping you’ll come down in the water. He wants to break the game-plan rules. He wants to talk to you, to make you laugh, maybe to find little moments to touch your hands.
Maybe to scoop you up and carry you around the lake like Hoseok is doing with Demi, let you cling to him for warmth, your chest pressed against his and those thighs on his arm -
When your eyes meet his from where you stand by the cooler, he turns quickly, caught. Jungkook rolls his eyes.
“Go fucking talk to her,” he says flatly.
Taehyung can’t articulate why he can’t, why he’s trying not to. Partly because he figured out just that morning that he’s in love with you, that he wants to try dating you for real, and it’s still a little raw. Partly because he wants to take those shorts off you and -
Oh god. You’re taking the shorts off, yourself. There they go. So much more thigh available for his viewing pleasure, but suddenly they’re moving as you run down the dock, launching into an impressively pretty dive into the dark depths of the lake.
Taehyung watches the spot where you disappear, but you stay under the water long enough for him to feel the sting of alarm. He locks eyes with Jimin, wondering if they should be worried, when you pop back up, pushing your wet hair away from your eyes.
“What?” you ask, grinning wide. “Did you think I drowned?”
Taehyung tunes back out a little as you and Jimin start teasing Nikki, who’s still safe and dry up on the dock. He floats again, cloud-watching, until you get his attention by splashing in his direction. He sits up, the water sliding out of his ears, bringing back the noises the water had muted: Nikki’s music from the dock, Hoseok and Demi’s laughter, bird calls, trucks on the highway in the distance.
“Race to the platform!” You call. “Go!”
It takes Taehyung - and Jimin and Jungkook - a second to realize what’s happening, and by then you’re well on your way out to the floating platform in the middle of the lake. All three guys launch after you, competitive spirits engaged. Taehyung catches up to you easily, and suddenly he’s breaking the rules, throwing the game-plan right out the window, and winding his fingers around your ankle.
He gives you a quick tug, glancing over his shoulder as he does just in time to see Jungkook shove Jimin underwater by his head. They’ll be occupied for a few minutes.
“That is cheating,” you protest, spluttering.
Taehyung does not care. He cares that you’re so close to him, he cares that the water running down in rivulets from your hair is mesmerizing. Emboldened by the fact that he’s only inches away from you and you haven’t moved, Taehyung reaches and finds your waist and turns you gently to face him in the water.
“So sue me, then,” he tells you. God, this is the moment to kiss you. Your eyes are dancing with amusement as he inches closer in the water. They’re sparkling, and there’s a flush in your cheeks - from the sun, from the race, from his flirtation, he doesn’t know - and your mouth…
He tightens his hand against the firm skin of your hip, resists the urge to pull you the rest of the way towards him. That bikini is killing him. He is on fire inside, like the damn Titanic before it went down.
He wants to kiss you, he’s dying to kiss you, but you lean away from him, reaching for the metal ladder of the platform.
“I win,” you tell him, the tension-filled moment evaporating into thin air.
@kookstempo - here’s Taehyung's perspective right after the break-up!
WC: 730
Warnings: language, angst
[9:47 PM] Taehyung: broke up with Y/N
[9:47 PM] Jimin: WHAT
Taehyung’s phone buzzes again, but a longer buzz, indicating an incoming call. “I don’t really want to talk,” Taehyung says instead of hello. “Honestly, I feel too fucking…” The word that comes to mind is empty, but that feels too dramatic, even for his best friend. “Too fucking tired to talk about it.”
“Just tell me what happened,” Jimin says calmly. “Give me the nutshell version for now.”
Taehyung sighs deeply, closing his eyes and leaning back against the chair he sits in. He hasn’t left the balcony since you walked out on him. The sun has set since then and it’s niggling in the back of his mind that he needs to go inside the dark apartment and turn on some lamps. He probably should make himself eat a few bites of dinner, even though he’s got zero appetite right now. He can’t bring himself to move, not yet.
“I don’t know, Chim,” Taehyung admits finally, eyes tracing cracks in the concrete below his feet. “I was pissed at her for going out with her ex, she was pissed at me for not talking to her enough this week - which isn’t my fault…”
Jimin makes a noncommittal noise, like Taehyung’s level of fault is up for debate. Ignoring this, Taehyung continues, “It got kind of ugly… but I basically asked her if she’s in or if she’s out, and she left. So. She’s out, I guess.”
On the other end of the line, Jimin lets out a breath. “Maybe you guys will work it out,” he suggests. “Try talking to her in a few days.”
“Maybe,” Taehyung says, even though he has no intention of trying. You’d made your choice, you’d told him as clear as day that you didn’t believe in the relationship, didn’t believe in him, and you’d walked away. He isn’t going to beg or grovel, he’s a grown-ass man with some fucking pride. If you want to go so bad, you can go.
After hanging up with Jimin, Taehyung presses his forehead to his knees, eyes closed, just processing. His mind keeps circling through the different points of the argument, the different ways it could have gone, the different things either of you could have said.
The circle always ends in the same place - he loves you. He loves you, he’d loved you for ages now, and you’d walked away. Just like every girl before you, just another failed relationship, just another person willing to let him go.
He feels like a fucking fool for thinking this time would be different.
It had felt different - he had felt different.
And so, he’d thought - stupidly - that it would go differently… that he wouldn’t end up alone, again, painfully aware of his own fault and failings.
He had told you he thought he was broken; he had told you he could do it right this time. And he had - hadn’t he?
Hadn’t he given you his heart, without walls?
–
He considers calling out of work the next morning. Then, he considers just coming in late, lying and saying his car broke down or some shit. If he can avoid the morning meeting, he can avoid seeing your face, and he really needs that today.
But Taehyung is cursed with a strong sense of duty, so he arrives on time. He takes his seat in the conference room early, willing himself to keep his eyes on his papers, not to glance your way.
But he does. He does, because he’s a weak man, and he loves you, and he wants to know if you look… okay.
He sneaks a glance.
He wishes he hadn’t. His heart thumps against his chest. His stomach twists and he’s actually nauseated for a hot second. He breathes slowly, eyes back on the floor.
You’ve been crying - it’s clear to him. Maybe not to anyone else, except Nikki. But he knows the signs. And he wants, so badly, to go take your hands, to pull you close, to hold your head and press his lips to the top of it, to tickle you in that spot below your fourth rib that makes you squeal - just to get you to smile again.
He can’t; he’s not supposed to, now. The choice is out of his hands… and so are you.
