characters. kim taehyung x reader | no supporting character.
word count: 2.7k
warnings. acts and mentions of smoking.
author`s note. well, this is unusual of me. few weeks ago while i was stuck with some major creative block, i was reading some tagore in its original text i.e bengali (which is my mother tongue like the poet himself) & i came across this song in the fic below. being completely enraptured by the words, the idea of this little delicate story sprung in my head. so, i hope you`ve a wonderful time reading it because i sure did have a good time writing it. as always, thank you for being here with me & happy reading!
source poem used. song no.5 i.e a moment`s indulgence by rabindranath tagore (original text in bengali from gitobitan, later compiled & translated to english in gitanjali published in 1912)
[04:25 PM] [there will always be someone who`ll find all the keys to your heart]
“i ask for a moment`s indulgence,” taehyung starts as he sits down next to the bathtub without much of a sound except for his baritone voice filling up the silence, “to sit by thy side.”
at first, you only gingerly open your eyes at the man`s utterance of the familiar words. head tilted to your left, you gaze lazily up at taehyung whose own head is hung low, his long delicate fingers which resembles that of an old soul of a pianist is tracing the binding of the book and his eyes follow the words printed on the pages of the same object that he holds in his hand.
“the works i have in hand i will finish afterwards,” with a swift move of his deep set eyes, taehyung glances at you, who finds yourself smiling, feeling the tiredness stuck to your limbs like thousand years old rust that slowly fades away into the water.
“tagore?” you ask him.
the man only nods.
“i was going to wait…but then i couldn`t,” these were not the words of the poem but rather it was of taehyung`s own.
“what for?” you ask in a voice that had little to no strength.
“to tell you that this poem reminds me of you,”
the rippling sound of water fills up the bathroom as you move in the bathtub. resting your arms folded on top of the porcelain edge, you come close to taehyung while he pushes the stool closer to the tub out of instinct. you gaze up at him and discover the shy smile at the corner of his mouth as he pulls at his lower lip to give it a small lick.
“read me more,” you whisper, encouraging him to which he leans his back against the tiled wall.
“away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,” he continues at your encouragement, “and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.”
you close your eyes and listen to the words of a poet that reminds you of a home in the past through a voice of someone who resembles the framework of your present home. without looking, you can feel the sun drowning outside the big window with closed glass shutters that is next to the bathtub filled with water and foams in which your bare self is partially submerged in. you feel the warmth of the dying sun against your wet back and the voice of the man you trust yourself with.
the hue of the sunset illuminates taehyung`s face, blending the shadows of his edges to the softness of his honey coloured skin as he glances at your tranquil face listening to his recitation. it isn`t much, he thinks to himself, but he would rather spend such moments with you without any hesitation than plan out a whole date in a restaurant far too foreign for both of your taste considering neither of you like to stay away from home. dwelling in the mundanities of this shared life and finding a family in each other`s comfortable silence cancels out all the dates and rendezvous he can plan out for both of you.
this reminds you that, every morning, taehyung goes out to the shop across the street to buy two lollipops. he always makes sure that both of them stay close to his heart which is to mean, inside his sole left breast pocket of his laundry clean shirts of every different artsy print. both of this lollipops are meant for yours truly.
it`s been six months now, that you`ve been trying to give up smoking. it is shocking to say the least but you`ve always been quite alienated to the act of smoking and yet there you were, last year puffing into your lungs at least four to five cigarettes per day to blow out the hidden frustrations from somewhere deep within yourself.
it came from all the stress. there was initially a strong reason why you did what you did and taehyung saw it all. he was after all the sole living witness of everything. he would watch you day and night sitting at your study desk, smoking one stick after another while trying to finish your masters and yet the end of the story was not just that.
being completely independent and far from home, you had to juggle countless part-time jobs while at the same time applying for all the internships you can convince yourself to. you had to keep aiming for good grades and on top of that you had to keep yourself sane enough through all the unnecessary anxieties that your brain creates for no apparent reason.
an outlet was definitely what you were asking for but the road to that wasn`t quite right. so six months ago, on the day you graduated with your masters, taehyung made you promise something.
on that very day, he was waiting for you on the other side of the street from your university, waving his hand like a child at his school gate who has finally found his mother in the vast crowed. exhilarations filled your heart up to its brim as you saw the familiar boxy smile among the thousand other smiles which seemed to be boring ones in your eyes. crossing the street, you cling to him, wrapping an arm around his back while he did the same to you pulling you close to his chest. it was so close that you could hear his heart beating out of his chest.
“did you run here?” you had asked him.
“huh? ah yes! the director of that gallery wasn`t letting go of me for god`s sake,” he laughed as he told you.
you place the cigarette that was lit in your other hand in-between your lips as you put your palm on top of his left chest, caressing the top of his clothed heart to soothe out his loud heartbeats.
“ah no that won`t do,” you heard taehyung say as he took the cigarette off of your mouth and threw it to the ground, stomping on the still lit up edge of it.
“hey that was brand new!” you complained.
“promise me, ______,” he said in a stern voice that was still rounded at the edges, as he took the hand of yours that was still upon his heart and placed it against his cheek, “because this is a new beginning of yours, promise me you`ll give up smoking.”
saying this, he took out a lollipop out of his breast pocket and unwrapped the wrapper and shoved it gently in your mouth as you looked up at him with wide surprised eyes, “we can try together, can`t we?” he asked you with a set of pleading eyes and a kiss on your forehead.
back to present, you`ve improved a lot from that situation even though the lollipop buying thing has become like a good old habit of taehyung. you told him both you might end up getting cavities at this rate.
another good thing is that now you have a permanent job at the museum and you get to have one and half days off every weekend which gives you enough time in the world to spend with your live-in boyfriend, who is the same man that recites you a poem that tagore originally wrote dedicating to the divine power, to a certain god that he believes in.
you wondered if taehyung knew that this poem is like a prayer, a song of devotion for a certain belief.
after telling you that you can now get into the bathtub that he has already filled up with warm water after he was done with his own bath, taehyung ran his fingers through his wet locks, shaking them up and then pulling them back. his eyes caught the sight of a copy of gitanjali (literal translation: song offerings) that he had borrowed from the library while coming back home from the art gallery.
although he wishes he knew the tongue of the poet that is renowned all over the world so that he can understand the text in its original language, currently he doesn`t have any options but to lean onto the english translation of the collection that tagore himself did which later went on to win asia`s first nobel prize in 1913. although he wished he found a better version in his own mother tongue.
nevertheless unlike your thoughts which he wasn`t aware of, taehyung has already done a little research of his own before issuing this book. he knew what was the theme of these poems or rather songs and yet when he came across song number 5, he couldn`t stop his eyes from diverting its attention upon the gingerly closed door of the bathroom.
without thinking of alerting your calm self that`s engulfed in the warm water of the bathtub, taehyung walked into the hollow space. he doesn`t greet you with any simple “hello`s” but rather he starts winding up his voice to the words of the song that reminds him so much of what you are to him.
“today the summer has come to my window with its sighs and murmurs” taehyung continues, stealing occasional peeks at your serene face upon which your beautiful eyes are closed, listening to his words.
does it comfort you enough? he asks his own curious self. what does this words that he dedicates to you truly mean in-between both of you? are you like something divine in his eyes that he wishes to forever pray to and worship in every form? if you`re the god in this, then is this love that he shares with you at every dawn and dusk a religion that binds both of you up like the red string of fate?
“and the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.”
an unsettledness bubbles up inside taehyung`s chest, like the beating of a mysterious drum from a certain distance across the curb in front of this apartment. he wants to push away the book, to selfishly not have a single care to this precious collection of words set in gold. he wants to get off this stool, be on his knees and hold you close. he wants to kiss your collarbones shaped like the wings of a spring bird and the corners of your mouth that pulls in so visibly when you give him your own kind of a smile.
he wants to taste your day at the curve of your neck and immerse himself at the feel of your fingers that still has the faded trace of ink digging into the now faintly wet strands of his jet black hair. taehyung wants you to pull him against your wet glistening bare self and mess up his just worn clean white t-shirt. he wants you to ask him to join you in the bathtub and kiss you like he has always dreamt of.
“now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.”
the poem ends and the drums at the far away street wins. the bubbles inside his chest foams up inside his mouth and taehyung gets off the stool, placing the book upon it before pushing it away. at the sound of the sudden commotion in front of you, you open your eyes to discover the man you love unfold your arms from the porcelain edge of the bathtub and wrap them around his shoulders while simultaneously lifting your naked self up against himself.
“tae, your t-shirt-” you start only to be stopped midway.
taehyung closes his eyes and places uncountable soft yet desperate kisses upon your neck that instantly sends a tingle down your spine and makes you clasps onto the cloth that clings to his back which you were previously concerned with getting wet from the water.
“i`m sorry….” he tells you against your ear. shaking your head, you hoped he got your answer.
“can we stay like this for a while?” taehyung asks.
“of course,” you smile and tell him as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, “but what about your clothes?”
“it doesn`t matter. holding you is more important.”
you bite down your lower lip stopping yourself from letting out a gentle giggle.
minutes passes by as you both stay like that on both of your knees; him on the marbled bathroom floor and you, against the porcelain of the bathtub. taehyung soon realizes that your knees might be hurting and he pulls away with a weary look, feeling guilty for the previous uproar inside his chest that was somewhat caused by the poem and the way he couldn`t stop picturing you through those words.
“you okay?” you stare up at him, concern laced in your voice and eyes searching for the reason behind that look on his face, “it`s okay, i don`t mind, really.”
“i`m sorry, your knees,” taehyung starts to which you take his face in your palms and make him look you in the eye.
“it`s absolutely fine,” you console him as tenderly as possible.
the man stares at you for a while and then lifts his hand to caress the strands of hair that`s sticking to the side of your face, “will you let me wash your hair for you?”
the question surprises you and suddenly, the bathroom gets filled up with you soft chuckle-like laughter.
“is that what you want to do?” you ask him as if he`s suddenly a child in front of you asking you if he can watch his favourite cartoon show because he`s sad.
taehyung nods his head, a very intangible pout surfacing up on his mouth. without answering ‘yes’ through any words, you place a soft kiss on his lips sealing the deal.
“yes?” brows lifted, he asks you to which you shrug your shoulders and turn around in the tub. leaning back against the porcelain surface, your back facing taehyung`s eyes, you wait for him to start his magic show.
“yep, that`s definitely an yes,” taehyung nods to himself, a determined look plastered on his face away from your eyes.
“i`ll put the book away and be back in seconds, okay?” he gives a peck on top of your head and rushes out of the bathroom, placing the copy of gitanjali on the bedside desk and runs back into the bathroom just like he promised, in seconds.
soon, all kinds of mundane sounds and smell filled up the hollowness of the bathroom of you two: the drag of the stool back to its place, the click of the shampoo bottle along with its aroma, the sound of a man in a partially wet t-shirt humming a certain lullaby and the occasional sigh of someone in the tub as his long, delicate fingers massages the scalp of theirs and in-between all of these, there`s the frequent ripples of water, young people starting to flock around the street to have a weekend get-together, the lamp posts getting lit up which reflected on the glass window and the birds chirping outside while coming back home to their nests as the afternoon sun boasts a lamenting farewell while passing by the moon that`s starting to shine in the dying flame-like sky as if a certain conversation is starting to unfold in front of your eyes:
“i ask for a moment`s indulgence,” the dying sun tells the moon, “to sit by thy side.” and you close your eyes, knowing that you`re safe and sound in this moment of indulgence of yours and of that someone behind you, who has all the keys to your heart and soul.
―dear lover, don`t make me wait too long, i just want to hold your hands. let your arms be my cage and your breath be the kind of music genre i listen to. i have waited too long to meet your eyes. so invade my space, take control, let me be the thread you knit your favourite sweater with. take me to all your favourite spots and let us drink the sunset while we talk with our silence from above the rim of our cups. dear lover, are you listening to this? don`t you dare make me wait too long. you know, i just want to die in your arms.
―if tomorrow the world ends upon us, please promise me that you`ll find me in another universe. tell me that we`ll still dance to this song each night and watch the sunset by the window of our kitchen, as our heads bump against each other and the room gets filled up with our small giggles. tell me, will you still find me if i ever get lost? if i don`t find the street on which our place lays, will you wait for me by the same bakery shop you waited for me in this universe, when we met some years later? and, if i tell you that i`ll always remember your favourite flower, would you believe me? tell me, will you still remember the outline of my silhouette when it runs to catch up with yours? i will always remember though, how you always smelt of the library during the summer and like petrichor during monsoon and like fallen leaves during winter. but most importantly, i`ll always remember you during spring - as you bloomed like thousand sunflowers inside my ribs, filling my lungs up with everything i ever wanted. you`ll always exist inside me, love. amidst all of your denials and disbelief that you don`t deserve such, you still reside in me all safe and sound.
―if that town from my past was the birth of us then this city from my present is the place we died. no, maybe i think i will spare you, maybe it was just me who died. many months ago when i woke up crying first thing in the morning, i knew whatever was left between us will always remain painfully clinging to the surface of my bones like the ineradicable rust on iron. what even happened to us? do you ever wonder what happened to the ghosts of us who are alive in the past? are they well? do they talk unlike us? do they hesitate to speak their minds like us or are they braver than whatever we are now? if you ever find this letter, dearest, promise me something, that in the next life when i will be born as a tree or a river or maybe a bird, just pass by me more often. don`t look up, don't stall much longer. maybe then i`ll not die this young.
―your heart might be a bit crooked but that doesn`t mean you don`t have enough love in it and just because you haven`t received enough love from people around you doesn`t mean you don`t know how to love. every kind of love that you give out to people or things, be it of any amount, they`re all worth it.
―call that cab off, dear one and smile for me as you take that jacket off. allow me to hold that hand of yours in mine which was made for yours truly. take no more doubtful intakes and trust me when i steal you away for the night as we run on the curb under the 2 A.M night sky where we will have all the freedom in the world to smile. the convenience store will probably have enough cup noodles which we`ll share and when you would want to look into my eyes, i`ll lean in closer to your height. you don`t have to try to be someone else, love, you are you. you are mine. be it the 2 A.M mornings or the busy rush hours of the day. i love you so allow me to tattoo this love to your heart.
―spent too many nights procrastinating on whether i`m enough or not but now i can never cry anymore because you keep holding onto my hands more often these days. their warmth reminds me of the days to which i want to go back to when everything was less complicated when i didn`t know more than half of what i know now. now i can never be sad anymore as long as i`m in the same room with you. these four walls, the moonlight shining on the bedsheet and your palm on top of my heart that pump nothing but all the happiness you injected me with. now, i don`t want to be anywhere else other than that place right next to you.
―i want you to complain to me. running into my arms, after a long day, being lazy while you slump against my warm side while i put my arm around you. i want you to complain about everything that bothered you all day. i want to know how your day went by, what you ate during your breaks, what new thing you heard from your friends. everything and almost all the things. tell me when you went past the familiar bus stop, did you think back to your school days? tell me, did you discover any new song which put you in a certain mood? tell me what mood it was and if you can share some of that with me. i want you to rely on me, tell me what runs through that precious mind of yours because you`re my favorite storyteller, because when you tell stories about yourself, you open up more door in this castle of your name.
