life is made up of moments. some sad and some happy. some moments you want to remember for the rest of your life and others you want to forget right after they've happened. some are ugly moments full of pain and some are beautiful moments full of joy. but all of them make up life, and to yoongi, taehyung was the most beautiful moment in life.
they met in the summer, when the cicadas' cry rose from the trees and the leaves wilted on the trees and iced coffees melted too quickly in your hand. taehyung came into yoongi's life in a moment he will never forget. he had burst in like a ray of sun on a day where the clouds took over the sky and fog misted the air with a melancholic haze.
yoongi had been running all his life, from his parents who never believed in him, from his brother who always looked down on him, from the anxiety and panic that would clog his lungs everyday; he ran from it all. he had been running so fast he hadn't seen the boy with soft brown hair and shut eyes lying across the train tracks until it was too late and he was sent sprawling across the gravel, shouting in pain as the rocks dug into his palm and his knees, bare from the rips in his two-year old jeans.
he cursed loudly and whipped around to see behind him, the invisible hunters that chased him through life, and instead saw him. with his hair like a halo fanned across the ground and his skin, like warm honey in the solitary ray of sun that shone like a sign from something greater, highlighting the life in a boy who looked all but dead lying on the tracks of an abandoned train yard. the bruise on his cheek was swollen and purple and his bottom lip was split on the left but he was more beautiful than anyone yoongi had seen.
maybe it was the solitary serenity of meeting someone who shone like an angel but yoongi could swear he felt love in a moment before it was washed away by those hunters, claws digging into his heart and ripping him away from the beauty of the stranger and instead dragging him into a pit of white knuckles and constricting throats.
why is he here? who is he? why is he hurt? is he dead?
the boy hadn't been disturbed by the kick to his side he must have felt when yoongi tripped over him and yoongi knows his boots aren't much, worn thin by the years of use, but his speed alone should have more than made up for the lack of a battering ram to the unprotected ribs of the boy who upon closer inspection looks just a little too thin for comfort.
yoongi doesn't want to be framed for murder, he doesn't want someone to find him next to an unconscious body with his boot print in it's side, so he leaves. he pushes himself to his feet, wincing at the sting of irritating the scraped palms of his hands, and he runs away. like always.
it had been a moment of anxiety and distrust soon replaced by one of familiarity and comfort as he arrived at the only home he had ever called that. an abandoned train yard with abandoned trains, the perfect place for wandering youth to claim as home, a home to run from the solitary angst of life and the cruelty of a world that loves those born into goodness.
yoongi wasn't born into goodness. he was born into a poor home that already had a son and he was cast away as the extra. he was the replacement if they should ever need one but with the perfection his parent's saw in his brother, no replacement would be good enough. not even yoongi. his passion, his music, it meant nothing to the baleful eyes of his mother and the disappointed eyes of his father.
all they wanted was for him to be good. they wanted a son who would provide for his family, who wouldn't complain about his freedom being traded for a cubicle with a stable income and a life of full niceties. and yoongi had tried, he had done all he could, gotten the grades and been the boy to be proud of, but it was never enough.
seokjin's story had been similar. the youngest of four brothers and the son of a ceo but nothing he did was enough, so he left. he ran in a way different from yoongi. yoongi ran with nothing but the clothes on his back and a passion for the cold, chipping keys of a piano. seokjin ran with a camera and an excuse of college, pushing himself to be the perfect son even away from the pressure of his family. yoongi never pitied seokjin but he would never understand the standard that he held himself to. the yearning for a perfect image even among the dull surroundings of the friends he chose.
seokjin had known yoongi the longest, he was one who could pry the claws of chaos from yoongi on those nights when his body could no longer run. but seokjin isn't always there. he wasn't there that morning, but he was there that evening. he was there to slide open the door of that stupid train car jimin had dedicated so much time to refurbishing. an old couch from the alley behind his house, a dresser missing half it's drawers from the empty house down the street, an old disco ball from a thirft store he managed ton get for 3000 won. random plants that had grown into the car and some that jeongguk had brought in, pots that had suddenly vanished form in front of cafes in the night.
it was tight for five grown boys and it smelled of wood rot and the vanilla candles namjoon insisted on but it was home, and it was there to welcome him back with open arms and a bottle of soju passed from hoseok as he sat onto his usual spot on the couch, the cushion depressed with use and a hole beneath it that yoongi had fallen through more than once.
he didn't mention the boy he had found on the tracks and let himself be swept away in the fantasy of freedom and happiness that came with this small family he had met inside a train car. even as they left the train car, as they wandered through the night and to the equally abandoned pool that held the remnants of their fire pit, easily rekindled by hoseok, and sat around it passing back the bag of pretzels jeongguk had hidden in his jacket, a little crushed and a little stale, but still good, yoongi actively blocked out the thought of the boy on the train tracks. with the honey skin and the plum colored bruise and the rise and fall of his chest that had been worryingly slow.
the next morning when yoongi had left that train yard, he'll protest any idea that he went back the way he had come on purpose. and when he finds the boy gone, he doesn't know if he's relieved or not, the small smear of blood across the pebbles where he had lain a worrying mark of his presence brushed off quickly but the guilt of an onlooker who had done nothing as yoongi runs again.
yoongi goes through his routine. he shows up for work and the sound of his boss yelling about mediocrity is a dull tune to accompany the start up of his bike engine, chicken box strapped to the back of the seat and helmet secured on his head as he makes his way to the first delivery of the afternoon.
some moments feel like they're repeated. it's a phenomena called deja vu in which a person feels as though they've experienced the exact moment they are in previously. yoongi doesn't know the term deja vu, can't place the phrase to the concept, but he feels as if he's back in that train yard, seeing the boy for the first time as he spots familiar honey skin and caramel brown hair. the familiar figure isn't on the ground this time. instead he's walking into a convenience store just across from yoongi with a slight limp in his step and his hood pulled up to try and cover the new bruise that swells his left eye and splits his eyebrow.
yoongi has enough people. he has five people and that's all he needs. it's more than enough, but something compels him. maybe it's the familiarity of a one sided love that was over in a second or the curiosity of why a boy who looks like an angel has the same eyes yoongi sees when he looks in the mirror.
he doesn't follow him, that would be stupid and yoongi isn't stupid no matter what his parents say. he just needs to buy some ramyeon, he's in charge of dinner tonight anyway. he doesn't watch the boy through the reflector behind the counter as he moves through the aisles, grabbing a bottle of water, a bag of almonds, and a case of soju. he'll deny noticing the way the boy hesitates before grabbing the soju; the way he looks between the crumpled bills in his hand and the case of alcohol with a pain look before he grabs the case and brings it to the front.
the young girl at the register gives him a perky smile and asks if he's going to a party. the boy says nothing and keeps his eyes lowered and the girl trails off awkwardly, quickly gathering his change and handing it to him and watching with wary eyes as the boy pulls his hood closer and leaves the store.
yoongi steps up to the register and pays quickly, for no reason other than to limit the amount of interaction she may expect from him, and walks out of the store. he looks around the street but the boy is gone. yoongi turns and leaves, the train yard a familiar path to take as he runs from thoughts of the boy with scared eyes and a limp in his step.
another night of stale pretzels and bad puns in the sanctuary of a world apart from the real one and yoongi tries not to notice namjoon's absence. namjoon disappears sometimes for a day or two and comes back with a new tattoo or a new scar. they've all learned not to ask, that namjoon's job at the gas station is a cover and that the more they know the less safe they'll be so they don't ask questions.
its not for two weeks that yoongi sees the boy again but when he does this time, he stops in his place. he wasn't running this time but he is back in the train yard. this time the familiarity of the moment almost hurts and yoongi is afraid this time to go closer as he spots that familiar brown hair haloed across the ground.
as he gets closer the boy moves, shocking yoongi into pausing because he didn't do that last time. but he ignores the shock and moves forward, eyes locked onto the deep brown irises that stare at him from behind thick black lashes. the boy pushes himself up and leans back on his hands, tilting his head as yoongi continues to approach him.
"if you're waiting for a train then you're on the wrong tracks kid,"
the boy says nothing and yoongi feels his throat begin to clench, feels stupid for trying to sound aloof and cool as the boy just looks at him and yoongi is reminded of his dog, holly. unfortunately holly had been considered a distraction by his father and he had come home from school one day to find the dog gone and a new notebook in his place. yoongi had never asked what happened to holly because he was afraid of the answer.
this boy, with his big pretty doll-like eyes is probably just another distraction but yoongi no longer runs from those like he did in the past.
"do you always start meetings with endings?"
the sentence is an odd one and it creates a new moment. a moment where yoongi looks at the boy sitting on the ground in front of him with a small pout on his bruise swelled lips and his head tilted to the side, and realizes that this boy is going to be a distraction, he just doesn't yet know from what.
yoongi is startled by the small grin that curls the corners of the boy's lips up and he startles even more as he rises to his feet and dusts off his butt before looking back at yoongi.
"you started the conversation with an ending. you said goodbye before you said hello, do you always do that?"
it sounds a little silly and doesn't make all that much sense but the boy looks sincere and yoongi figures he owes him from kicking him in the side, so he responds.
"i don't know, probably."
yoongi doesn't notice how easily the conversation flows or when he began walking the familiar route to the train car, the boy keeping pace by his side, until he sees the end car of that familiar train and pauses, eyes flicking over to the boy and apparently looking hesitant enough that words aren't needed for the boy to understand what he's saying.
"it's time for me to turn back i guess, i don't want to intrude. but it was nice to talk with you hyung."
yoongi opens his mouth but closes it again before he can say something stupid.
"my name is taehyung by the way, '95,"
"ah i knew it, you are my hyung. alright then, goodbye,"
yoongi stands there on the tracks as taehyung's figure gets smaller and smaller before it disappears beyond the treeline, a different way than they came, and then he turns and makes his way home, an uneven smile and soft brown eyes in the forefront of his mind. namjoon is there that night but this time jeongguk is the one missing. they all trade looks but don't bring it up.
two days later when yoongi shows up at the tracks, taehyung is there again. new bruise across his cheekbone and what looks like purple fingers around his throat. yoongi doesn't ask, just pats his head when the younger doesn't notice his approach because of the headphones in his ears and lets taehyung tell him about the dog he saw on his way to the store that morning.
it becomes a routine of sorts. yoongi will finish works as the sun is setting and he'll walk the familiar path to the tracks and taehyung will be waiting for him, more often than not with a new bruise or cut marring his otherwise smooth skin. yoongi never asks and taehyung never tells, so it remains unspoken. but yoongi knows, he can guess. from the fingers bruised around taehyung's neck, from the purple rings around his wrists and the marks that bloom across his face every other day. it's not hard to know.
but still, taehyung greets him with that uneven grin everyday and yoongi greets him with a pat on the head, listening and sometimes actively conversing as taehyung walks him to the edge of the train and says goodbye and turns back to disappear into the trees. yoongi watches him go every time and sometimes wonders where taehyung goes after their short walks. but again, he doesn't ask.
he catches himself wondering sometimes, what more there is to taehyung. on nights when the fire is dim and his friends have quieted, all stuck in their own minds for better or for worse in the moment, yoongi can't help but to find himself wondering where taehyung is. is he safe? is he home? does he have a home? is he with whoever is hurting him?
yoongi can do nothing but think. he doesn't even know taehyung's surname. he has a good chance of guessing it statistically speaking but even then it wouldn't lead him any closer to learning more about taehyung. he knows he's just 20; the same age as jimin, and yet their lives are so different. or are they? is taehyung like jimin? a good boy on the run from being a perfect son. pressured to do law and marry the girl his mother has chosen for him when all he wants is to dance and remain in the arms of the boy he loves. when yoongi finally understood the secret looks that jimin and hoseok shared he couldn't say he was surprised. they would often be the two to spend the most time together outside of the run down train car they could call a home.
hoseok had an apartment he payed for with money made in a way again that went unquestioned. they all had secrets, and one of the few open things was the love they shared. shy and hesitant in a world brimming to reject them but flowering in hidden corners and shared moments away from prying eyes and unwelcomed words.
was taehyung like that? did he have a family that waited for him? a home with people who asked all of him and called it love? a dinner table of faces that begged perfection and gave nothing back?
the thought of those brown eyes, scrunched in a smile yoongi can only imagine, is breathtaking. i want to see it someday. that's a dangerous thought. yoongi takes another drink of soju to wash the thought from his mind. instead he laughs at jeongguk's joke and reaches for a ramen cup, noodles long since soggy and most of the broth gone. yoongi throws a jab towards namjoon for that and laughs and the offended whine he gets. the thought of taehyung chased from his mind.
taehyung, however, is not an easily banished thought, and yoongi finds himself frowning as he stands in their usual meeting spot, just past the treeline and right where the rails branch to head towards the abandoned train yard. taehyung is usually there by the time yoongi walks up, lying back on the gravel of the tracks and watching the birds overhead with his headphones in.
yoongi frowns at his phone as he checks the time for the third time in ten minutes. taehyung is almost an hour late. they never really agreed on a set meetup time but yoongi comes at 17:20 everyday and taehyung is always waiting for him. yoongi tries to brush it off, shakes the thought of the younger boy out of his mind and makes his way down the tracks by himself.
he tells himself he's glad for the quiet for a change, tells himself he needed a break from taehyung like he does with everyone. he ignores that nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him without taehyung by his side he feels more lonely than he ever has walking this track before.
he ignores that voice harder and yanks the door to the train car open with just a little more force than necessary. seokjin yells in annoyance as the carefully stacked card tower he had been building on the small coffee table in the center falls with the gust of wind yoongi's entrance brings and yoongi sidesteps the shoe thrown his way with ease, grin taking over his face as he ducks under hoseok's teasing jab. it's better to be in the moment after all, rather than to think of the boy with soft eyes and an even softer heart.
yoongi looses himself in the chaos of happiness and he doesn't hear the tapping along the walls until jimin points it out, loudly shushing the others to try and listen closer. the cops don't really bother with this part of the tracks anymore because of all the vagrants that come through but once in a while there will be a wondering bum who tries to break into their little home. but the tapping noise sounds more like soft thudding as it gets closer, a muffled voice calling out as it gets closer and closer to their train car.
yoongi looks at jeongguk who had whispered his name in confusion and looks at him the same before he focuses harder on his hearing and realizes that's what's being said.
muffled through the thick metal of the train car is a voice calling his name. his heart jumps to his throat at the same time that his stomach drops to his feet and it almost shakes the floor how quickly he drops his cup of whatever cheap beer jimin had filled it with and scrambles to the door, wrenching it open and throwing himself out of the train car, eyes wide as they land on the figure of the boy that had plagued his thoughts.
soft honey skin is smeared with shining crimson streaks patterned black and blue. a white shirt hides nothing and the black hoodie does a poor job as well to cover any of the shocking spread of red over thin fabric and onto the grey rocks below. taehyung's leaning against the train car, his hand leaving smears of red in a near even pattern as far back as yoongi can see in an instant as if he had been banging along it, looking for something. someone.
it's beautiful; taehyung's smile. it stretches his lips in an arch like the petal of the softest rose and his eyes crinkle in the corners just like yoongi always imagined they would. it's one of the most beautiful moments yoongi's seen, and one of the worst. taehyung's smile doesn't fall, even as his knees meet the gravel with a crunch that was more rock than bone but still has yoongi's gut tightening and he doesn't know he's moving until he feels warm breath over his neck and something slick against his hand as he holds the younger up, his own knees aching with the force he threw himself forward with.
someone else is talking behind them but all yoongi can hear is the soft puffs of breath leaving the boy next to him and beating of his own heart in his ears. its a strange moment, a moment he'll want to remember forever but also one he wishes he could forget the second he blinks and opens his eyes again.
instead the image of taehyung's blood stained smile is going to be burned on the back of his eyelids forever and the warm slickness of his skin under yoongi's hands is something he'll feel every time he looks at the younger.
