It was at a Christmas party one Friday night, and you had no plans of staying long. Standing near the snacks table you observed everyone in the room. There was your best friend, being the center of attention; she was charming, she was tiny, and she was funny. She nods in your direction in acknowledgement; glad you came, grandma.
You turned to stuff your mouth with more spring rolls when he entered the room. He was smiling, bouncing on his feet as he followed another handsome stranger. He was chattering behind the handsome stranger so loudly you could feel a pang of irritation in your belly; however, it was Christmas, so you felt a little more forgiving than usual.
Your brother calls out to you from the other side of the room, beckoning you to come over and socialize. Dear God, the party was just getting started.
“Jin, please meet my sister,” your brother announces proudly, ruffling your hair. You punch him lightly and you introduce yourself. The man named Jin smiled at you, crinkles forming near his eyes. He was about to speak when a voice behind him said:
“Where did you get the spring rolls?”
It was the loud, smiling boy from awhile ago. His eyes glinted with glee and they were wide with wonder at the plate you held in your hands. “Those look really good.”
“I—I got them by the snacks table,” you say. You were about to offer him some when he just grinned at you and marched away, leaving you gaping after him. Jin sighed beside you, and smiled apologetically. “He’s not usually like this. Please forgive him, he’s quite a character, our Taehyung.”
Taehyung.
You went back to the snacks table to get yourself some more food and a drink. You were about to reach for the popcorn when someone said, “Popcorn and ice cream don’t make a good mix, you know.”
Taehyung stood behind you, peering at you with a knowing smile on his face. He was taller than you so he had to bend a little for him to hear you. “I wasn’t about to get ice cream, but I did want to get the popcorn,” you tell him.
“Oh. Dang, I thought I got it right,” he mused. “I was trying to guess what you’d get. Oh, and, I apologize for my manners. They disappeared with the food.” He extends his hand to you, and you look up at him as you grasped it briefly. His eyes glinted brightly again, warm and inviting. “I’m Taehyung. I don’t think you liked me that much when I entered the room.”
“I’m sorry?” you say, taken aback.
“Your eyes,” he says, gesturing at them. He smiled kindly. “I can tell.”
You felt guilt bubble inside you; why are you such an expert on pushing people away? He nods at you and leaves, heading for the door. He greets more people on his way out, his loud voice carrying no tinge of hurt from your reactions.
You were prepared to settle for a night of misery by the snacks table when he appears in front of you again, much quieter than when he entered the first time. He extends a hand to you again, smiling at you with the same warmth and kindness he had shown moments ago. “Hello, I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you.”
You take his hand, not registering how small your hands were inside his. “Why did you leave?”
“I had to make a second entrance to change your mind about me,” he said, grinning proudly. “Did it work?”
You stare at him, not knowing what to make of him. He was nice, he had an odd sense of humor, and an infectious, rectangular smile, which you found yourself mirroring. “I really don’t get you, but somehow, it did,” you reply as you shook your head in disbelief.
“Excellent,” he beamed at you. “I now have someone to bond with over spring rolls.”
Hands
Two years after he entered the room twice, the two of you now sat in his room, sitting on his bed, facing each other. Two years later, he held your hands like this:
He takes your hand, cold yet soft, into one of his calloused and larger ones. Fingers rife with the marks of extended practices fit themselves between the grooves of your own unblemished ones, save for a few cuts here and there when you weren’t being careful with what you handled. His caramel skin was a contrast to you pink, but in the afternoon sunlight it was a palette selected by nature itself.
He was beautiful, like the sunlight that lit everything it touched outside.
“Did you ever play any instruments?” he asks you as he pushes your hand up, holding them tight. His fingers were so long that they almost reached your wrists.
“No, but I did draw, though,” you say, pointing out to him a callus on the ring finger of your right hand, where the pen pressed and sunk as you labored over sheets and sheets of paper. “The only mark of ever doing anything in my entire life.” You look at your hands nestled in his. “My fingers look so plain next to yours.”
He chuckled, running a thumb over your own. “I like them. My hands reflect my personality; yours reflect your own as well. The way they curve as you pause when you speak and the little scars tell a story.” He lifts your hand to his face, cupping them to his cheeks. Everything about him was so warm; his skin, his eyes, his voice; and now, the way he closed his eyes as he rested his face against your cheek. His hand kept yours in place, holding you close. In the last two years he had learned that you didn’t like your personal space being invaded, but for him—oh, for him—you were willing to concede.”Tell me your story,” he whispers. “Why do you have scars?”
You lift your hand to his hair, brushing them aside softly as you pressed your lips to his forehead. “Literally,” you whisper as you lower your lips to his, “or figuratively?”
Warmth
You had never felt so cold.
Your mother bustled next to you, fixing the white silken cloth on your head, held in place by heavy blue pins from her bureau. Your dress of the same color trailed on the floor like fresh snow on a winter day. In your hands you held a mixture of lilies of the valley and coral roses, the same color as your lips. It is a beautiful day in June, and this is your wedding.
And you were so, so cold.
xxx
When Taehyung proposed to you in the spring of last year, he had forgotten that he was allergic to pollen. He prepared an entire gazebo full of flowers and fairy lights, and begged his friend Yoongi to play the piano as you slow-danced.
Or tried to, as he was sneezing so hard.
“Tae,” you asked him worriedly as his eyes started to turn red like a traffic light, “should I bring you to the hospital?”
“No,” he wheezed, waving his hand in dismissal of your suggestion. “But I do want to go to the police station.”
“Why?” you asked him in alarm. “Did you lose something?”
“Yes,” he admitted, after a round of sneezing. “I lost my heart to you.”
Yoongi slammed the keys a little too hard as he played. “Goddamn it, Taehyung,” he muttered.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m bringing you to the hospital.”
“No!” He wheezed one more time before he bent down one knee, opening a small, velvet box, which held a band of white gold laced with deep blue sapphires. You felt your breath catch in your throat as he looked up at you, his red eyes brimming with unshed tears —whether from emotions or allergies, you couldn’t tell.
“This is not the most romantic proposal, as I think I am about to faint, but jagiya…will you marry me?”
He woke up in the hospital several hours later, holding your engaged hand.
xxx
You didn’t know why you were so cold. Taehyung was everything you wanted, and everything you loved; you knew you couldn’t walk away even if you tried. “Are you alright?” your mother asked you as she peered at your face. “You look tense.”
“I feel cold.”
“Well the airconditioner is turned quite low.”
“No, it’s more like…I don’t know what to do.”
“Are you leaving Taehyung at the altar, darling?”
“No!” You exclaimed. “I can’t do that. I do love him, you know.”
“Then calm down,” she says, patting your arm. “You’ll see him in a while. Maybe he’s the warmth you need.”
xxx
When the doors opened to let you through, the first thing you saw was him. He was standing there, with a boutonniere on his chest that matched the flowers in your hand. He abandoned the eyeliner, and his hair was dark — just how you liked it. He was glowing like a beacon at the end of the tunnel, and it took all of your willpower not to run up to him and hold him close.
xxx
When Taehyung heard the doors open, he froze, and for once in his life he didn’t know what to say. There you were, walking towards him like a daydream. He had often complained that you were so pale, but this time, there was a flush on your cheeks as your walked towards him. You were smiling nervously, feeling unfamiliar with all of the attention. He saw you clutch your father’s arm tightly, feeling his figure vibrate as he cried silently.
He wanted to cry, too. He wondered what good he had done to deserve this kind of blessing.
Finally, finally, finally when you came to him, he extended his hand to you, just as he had done years before on that fateful Christmas party. When your hand touched his, your nervousness faded away, like there was sunlight pouring down on the two of you. He kissed your forehead lightly, whispering, “Hello, I’m Taehyung. I heard there are spring rolls in the party.”
You couldn’t believe it! You’d done it after days of vigorous rehearsals. You grinned happily at Jeon Jungkook, a good friend of yours. The crowd’s cheers were deafening and as you began making your way off the stage, your manager gave you a thumbs up from the wings. Gathering your full-length dress in both hands, you gingerly made your way down the stairs before being bombarded by a chorus of staff members commending the both of you on your performance. You finally made it back to your small waiting room and before going inside, turned around to address Jungkook.
“I think we did pretty good, don’t you?” You smiled, ecstatic with not only your own quality of performance, but also that there were no glitches, sound or otherwise. Jungkook sounded heavenly as always; he’d made the idea of a duet actually pleasant.
“Nae,” he replied and smiled, showing off his bunny teeth and those crinkles at the corner of his eyes. You’d see each other after the show and no doubt at the company. You’d been signed to BigHit for three years now, and debuted nearly a year ago as a solo artist. Singing was your passion as was dancing and your violin. Although your fanbase wasn’t huge, you were actually happy that people enjoyed the music you composed and sang. It was a job that paid moderately well, especially when the CFs rolled in. “Unni!” You embraced your manager as she entered soon after you did. “Y/N, you did very well. I’m proud of you!” she commended and you nearly blushed while bowing in thanks. Just then, the stylists entered the room, ready to transform you so you could perform your newest single that’d been released two months ago. Promotions had already ended, but you were exceedingly grateful that they’d invited a rookie like you to duet with Jungkook and perform your own song.
After thirty minutes, your hair, makeup, and clothing were dramatically different. With another hour before you were due back to the wings, you settled down with your textbooks. You loved music, but pursuing a degree was important to you as well. Four years in and you were almost finished. In the midst of a practice exercise that was really taking too long, a bang resounded in the room. You and the stylist unnis quickly turned and you instantly smiled as you took in the sight of Taehyung.
“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his grin wide. He bounded up to you and pulled out a chair to sit opposite you.
“You did great! It was so cool to see you up there!” His gaze, open and honest, invited you to feel comfortable with the praise.
“Thank you Taehyung-ah!”
“I was nervous, but Jungkook-ah made it very easy for me.”
“Nae, he better! But I’m jealous, he got to sing with you multiple times, and we’ve never sang together,” he pouted, one elbow propping up him and his bottom lip.
“Taehyung-ah, we’ve sang together before,” you said, trying to appease him. It had been at a company outing and after eating as much bulgolgi as you could, everyone had moved on to karaoke. Maybe he didn’t remember (as you recalled, the soju was flowing freely that evening) but you’d been undertaking a trot song from your mother’s era when he’d abruptly grabbed a mic and began to sing with you. Although surely tipsy, he’d sounded pretty good. Of course, he had no idea you were actually a huge fan of his rich, deep voice and that you had every cover of his downloaded to your phone. “Y/N, we should have a session!” he exclaimed, scooting around the table to your side.
“When won’t you have schedules?” His earnest gaze took you aback as you realized he was actually serious.
“Ah, that’s alright Taehyung-ah. You and the others are really busy.” You were aware that they weren’t currently promoting but BTS was very popular and often were booked solid.
“You don’t want to sing with me? I want to sing with you.” He tilted his head adorably, as if he was trying to comprehend your meaning. Your hands automatically flew up. You didn’t want him to take you the wrong way.
“No Taehyungie-ah, I’d love to sing with you, I was just trying to be considerate.” At the sight of his grin returning, you realized you’d slipped and called him by his old nickname. Back when you’d just signed and BTS was preparing for their debut and he was just a boy. Although certainly now he was a man. He’d removed his suit jacket he wore during their earlier performance and loosened his tie, a gap of smooth tanned skin peeking through at the time of his shirt. Three years was a blessing.
You realized you’d actually let your eyes slip that low and you swore that he must’ve known because now his eyes were really crinkling. “Y/N, we’ll be at the company all day tomorrow practicing so we could meet then.”
“Nae, sounds like a plan!” You extended your hand to shake on it. He clasped yours tight and you noted the warmth of it. The same warmth in his smile. Just then, Hoseok burst through the door with Jimin and Kookie tagging along, and the room filled with colorful noise as your other two friends congratulated you.
It was eight at night and you were in your personal practice room. Dressed in comfy yoga pants and an oversized crop top (curse your small torso) you were stretching after practicing your routine with vocals. Singing and dancing well always zapped your energy but it was amazing what you’d found yourself capable of. Sliding into a split, you touched the tip of one foot before turning to the other. Just then, with your nose to your knee, the door opened and Taehyung stepped through.
“Y/N, look at you! So flexible!” You blushed violently and remained in position longer than necessary, hoping that the color would subside. Unfortunately, it didn’t, but after turning to him and the practice mirrors, at least you looked like you only had a rosy glow.
“Ah Taehyung-ah, you brought snacks!” You hurriedly made your way over to him and began to paw through the convenience store bag. He giggled, a deep adorable chuckle, and allowed you to retrieve two bags of chips and a stick of chocolate.
“Thank you!” you said, bobbing your head and immediately opening the first bag. Barbeque was your favorite!
“Yah! If you’re hungry, we could just go downstairs to the noodle shop.” “Aniyo! We must sing!” You grandly gestured, chip bag in hand and this time he laughed outright. Unknowingly, a smile broke out across your face as you made your way to your laptop that contained all your favorite instrumentals. “So what do you wanna sing?” you asked, bring up your expansive library. “Anything,” he replied, sipping a banana milk.
“I forget how small you are,” he said from beside you, and true enough, after turning your eyes to him, they landed on his collarbone. Casting your eyes upward, you took in his sparkling eyes and the way his hair peeked out from the sides of his snapback. His eyes always sparkled when he was happy and had energy. You tore your gaze away from him and went back to perusing your collection.
“Oh! Taehyung-ah, we’ll sing your song Someone Like You!”
“Ahh, it’s been a couple years since then,” he blushed ever so slightly and turned away to place the goody bag against the wall.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. And you sound great singing this,” you complimented. “Oh really?” And he chuckled again, sheepishly adjusting his hat. You cued the music, adjusted the volume, and gestured for him to begin the first verse. You jumped in at the bridge and he stopped, letting you get your foothold. The chorus came and you were singing together, your voices filling the room.
At first, your eyes didn’t meet but as the music continued to play, you took note of where his attention lay: on you. You tentatively smiled and he returned it. Many said that it was difficult for a soprano and baritone to complement each other’s voice, but the blend of yours was beautiful. You decided then not to tell Taehyung that you’d actually practiced singing along to his cover probably hundreds of times. His buttery voice just sounded so good, suiting the lyrics and melody. As the song ended, he stepped closer to you, and in surprise, grabbed your hands.
“I knew you sang beautifully, but I hear it so much better in here with just us,” he shared, seemingly excited that the two of you had finally shared a song. You were acutely aware that he was holding your hands and he was in front of you, beaming so happily.
“Taehyung-ah?”
“Nae?”
“I love your voice,” you blurted out. His hold grew tighter and he drew a step closer, before enveloping you in a brief hug. Long enough for you to smell the crisp scent of men’s soap and a hint of the cologne he wore all the time…He released you and slung an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side.
“Y/N, you’re still hungry, right?”
“Nae,” you mumbled, eyes downwards, fingers tangling awfully close to the loose fabric of his white tee.
“Come with me, I’m thankful for noona singing with me so I’ll buy you noodles!” He began to lead you out the door.
“Taehyung-ah, it’s kind of late for noodles-“
“Don’t worry, I like you with baby cheeks.” He turned to you then and you smiled at him brightly. He was so sweet. Your eyes widened as he poked you right where your dimple was.
“Yah Taehyung-ah.” For some reason, you couldn’t look away. This always happened when he caught your attention. He knew it too as he poked the other cheek and after a beat of silence, took off down the hall laughing. “Taehyungie!” You yelled and your laughs joined his as you chased after him.
Moving somewhere new is always challenging and stressful. You don’t know the language, culture, or even special holidays. It’s worse when you know no one or have any family members near you. Factor in that your family is in a different country thousands of miles away, and your set for failure. From the U.S. to Korea. But this was my choice and I’m sticking with it.
(1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)(9)(10)(11)(12)
~Character Introductions.~
Jimin. The charming overly friendly charismatic guy.
Namjoon. The one who peer pressures everyone.
Yoongi. The “not so” tough guy.
Hoseok/Hobie. The brotherly one.
Jin. The protector.
Jungkook. The baby.
Taehyung. Your heart breaker.
Ms. Eve. (OC) Your new boss and your only tie to home, in a sense.
Jackson. Gang leader. Out to steal anything and everything from Taehyung and Yoongi.
