Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Twelve years ago

There he stands under the azure sky: somehow managing to take his place on those branches in this cold, cold air, watching whatever it is that he found worthy. An expression in his eyes that I'm familiar with without knowing the name of, lips facing downwards. The leaves that autumn withered up scatter around when he dangles his feet from the branches. The reason why he sits on that tree shakes the whole block — his family's never-ending shouting. My mom's also quite unsettled by this that she sent me to check up on him. I stand there, looking up at him like a limp rag would do.

I expect him to acknowledge my presence and say something so I wouldn't have to start the conversation, but he doesn't. Maybe he's not even aware of my existence. I mean, not in general, but specifically for that moment that I was there. Because I think he knows of me, at least of that I am a human, existing and all. He could even know my name. It's not that far out a thought now, is it? We had had supper before, in the end. Not him and I, obviously, not privately. With our families, that is. But it's usually not easy to tell whether Taehyung is interested in something.

Deciding to leave my chicken heart aside, I climb up the tree, poking about a bit. Even after sitting right beside him, I don't have Taehyung’s attention, so I look at where he set his eyes on. This tree is particularly close to the point where the two mansions are divided, that's why one could see our mansion when sitting here. Who would pay attention to such a thing, really? But Taehyung's eyes are locked on the dining room my mom's been waiting for me in. Lights on, curtains open as always, since we know almost every resident of the mansions around. Mom checks her watch, then goes back to reading her book.

"I envy you."

I turn to him, bewildered. As two people sitting next to each other, I don't know why him talking to me is something I never deemed likely. Still, his eyes don't meet mine. I look for what he's found in this picture not understanding what he regards so interesting about my mom or our dining room. Mom, sitting at the end of the table, looking disconnected from the world around, her book replacing the dinner that is not served yet. Her hair shadows her face because of the room's lighting, so her expression is hard to read. But if I know her in the slightest, then she has her reading face on, immersed in her world where there's a place for nothing but books. Even from this distance, I can see the two housekeepers standing by the door, a meter or two behind my mom. They all wait for me to return. And I wait for Taehyung.

To be honest, I can't exactly say I've heard Taehyung's voice much before. I can't tell if he's introverted because I never had the chance to get to know him well, but in my opinion, family gatherings are not really his chatty occasions. Maybe he finds exchanging glances with veggies much more charming, who knows? I, on the other hand, am not the greatest daredevil in the world. The arms I cross on my chest remind me that he must be shivering, too. "Why?" I say briefly. My voice comes out muffled and leaves me feeling dumb. It's ridiculous for me to act like I'm engaging in human interaction for the first time in my life. Though Taehyung doesn't look like there's something he finds ridiculous. He closes his eyes, resting his right shoulder on the tree trunk. Night noises, waves, and silence surround me as a whole.

"Your mom's waiting for you, go back inside." He jumps down the tree, walks toward the mansion, leaves me behind, and enters through the back door. I can't stop looking even after seeing the glass doors close after him.

The present

"Of course, loves are like this, beginnings and endings are always different, very different. Of course, goodbyes are always like this, they find the heart that loved deeper and make it cry. Of course, loves... Of course, goodbyes keep making me cry."

Says Taeyeon, whom I love dearly, one of the biggest rockstars of the '90s, in her song 'Time Lapse'.

Looking at my wardrobe, knowing there aren't any pieces left my heart could break into, I sing along to the song that touched my soul even at the tender ages when I didn't know what love even is. It's always been a song I enjoyed screaming my heart to, even had the chance to listen to it live and sing along with Taeyeon a few times when I could get tickets to her shows. Bedcovers wrapped around me, I sit cross-legged in bed and I cry while trying to find where I've done wrong, singing along to this song nonstop.

The rhythm gets tight with Taeyeon's voice, and that fucking intangible cage around my chest does the same, crushing it. It's almost like I'm reliving the years as I sway to the song, and cling on to my pillows and covers. I don't think anyone would understand how soul-crushing this was, I don't possess the strength to tell anyone anyway.

It's not hard to imagine Taehyung standing right in front of the windows that take up the wall from one end to the other, looking out, listening to the song. I feel my chest swarm from having difficulty breathing. I have this anger inside of me for not being able to stop swaying, I can't stop feeling like I am the black swan, dancing its last dance. The thought scares me, I'm not good with the word "last" at all.

It must be the first night of the new season: fall season. No need to play the dumb, it’s my birthday. Against my expectations, Taehyung doesn’t meet me at 3 Violet Hill in the evening. It doesn’t feel good to see the cake on the kitchen island with the words “happy birthday” and “28” written on it when I enter my dark house at midnight and turn the kitchen lights on. I could bury the loneliness I felt when looking at the cake and pretend it never existed. The embarrassment when the realization that there was nobody home hit me like a slap in the face after wandering around the house a little, too. What did I expect, really? For somebody who was glad I made it to another year to wait for me at home with open arms?

Though the worst is the photo I see when I pick up my phone to see if there’s anything, any message at all that could take away my loneliness. A ring on Chaeyoung’s finger.

The tears rain down. It’s so difficult to breathe while looking at the city lights and singing. The more the flowers spread in me, the more I feel them tearing my lungs. Isn’t it funny, I never knew how important my lungs could be to me until the day I heard they collapsed completely, they were there and they worked, beneath notice. I thought so.

My lips are utterly dry. I don’t mind. I don’t give up on singing the song while it gets harder and harder to breathe. Maybe it’s the last thing that’s not taken away from me. The song goes on either way and I sing as much as my lungs let me. “Of course, goodbyes are always like this, they find the heart that loved deeper and make it cry. Of course, loves…” I tumble out of bed when I realize I have no chance of getting rid of my bedcovers with the vomit coming up my throat. I throw the bedcovers off of me while running and I crack the bathroom door open, I lean over the toilet and puke my lungs out.

I can see my pain in the red. The song goes on in distance, but I don’t sing anymore. Now I’m fighting for every breath. My flowers washed in red on the toilet surface. How pretty they are. To watch the flowers is a way to pull myself together every time this happens. It reminds me it’s not only blood and death I have growing in me.

I understand again it’s strange to be human when I’m looking at them, maybe for the millionth time. The thought that both blood and pretty flowers can live in me and both are a part of me, that both can give me life and kill me at the same time is astonishing.

I wipe my tears with the back of my hand and smile.

It takes time for me to take my shirt off. I’m cold, so cold, still being nude feels good. I leave the bathroom crawling on the tiles, I plan to reach my bed to find my phone. I have to stop halfway there and walk to my table to stop the song from playing on the record player. I call the person who’s always there whenever I need. He’s probably asleep after his busy day. But he picks up on the first ring and promises me he’s gonna be here in a minute when I say only his name. I don’t even have to ask him to come.

I find it difficult to stand up, I drink half a glass of water from the jug on my nightstand, having to take a break again and again. I take off my bedclothes and bring fresh ones from the wardrobe. I know that if I were to eat anything I would throw up again, despite the hunger the vomiting, and the whole day’s weariness brings. How long could one keep this up? It’s not easy to avoid pondering over this question. I take off my shoes and throw them away before lying on the fresh bedsheets. Just then, the apartment door opens.

Yoongi has a key of his own and that has a couple of reasons. Yoongi spends almost as much time as I could say he lives here. He sleeps here, he keeps me company on the medical examination days, and sometimes he stops by to bring me food or any other thing I need. He runs errands for me at times. I would be the one to know best how hard he works, and yet it’s unbelievable how he can give me this much time and effort. The trust between us has been strong, it feels comfortable giving him the keys to my house. Besides, I need someone who could get in with the keys in emergencies if I can’t open the door. Other than Taehyung.

Yoongi knocks on the bedroom door and gets in. His coat is still on, he didn’t attempt to take it off on his way to my room. There’s a rush on him that could electrify me at the simplest touch. He exhales and sits right beside me when he finds me looking at the ceiling. “How do you feel?” No matter how much pain he is in, he still tries to hide it from me. He’s probably thought of tons of scenarios on his way. He might’ve expected to find me throwing up when he arrived. I still have to breathe slow and deep breaths to hush up the pain even though I lie in silence and try to pretend I’m okay. It gives me away. The paleness of my skin and my stinking smell are another thing. “I’m glad you came,” I mumble instead of answering him.

He takes off his coat and leaves it on the floor. “How many times?” he asks this time. “Once, for now.” Even if more were to come, he would stay. That was something I could always read between the lines of our conversations. He never had to say that he would always stay. It could be felt in his one look, one touch, or the flow of his words that he had no intention of leaving my side.

“Want me to cook for you?” I tell him I don’t think there’s anything to cook in the fridge. “I bought some groceries in the morning, I didn’t have any time to stop by so the bags were in the car.”

And so I put on some music again while he carried the grocery bags inside, I put on a thin cardigan that reaches my mid-calf, and I put the stuff he brought in the fridge. When almost everything’s done and I turn my back, I find him looking at the cake on the kitchen island with pained eyes. To feel how his heart broke in my own heart clenches my ribs. I walk towards him, perch on the wooden bar stool and hold his hand. “I didn’t think he could do this,” he said at the end of his silence. Neither did I, I guess. It’s crueler than I would expect from Taehyung to propose to her on my birthday and think sending a cake fit for me.

He is not there for me. Who knows how many birthdays I have left and he’s not there for me.

Chapter Text

As much as a shock it might come to you, I’ve had a wonderful time as a child. That might explain very well why I still have difficulty letting go of the said time.

But if I am to tell the story of me, myself, and Jungkook, then I should be vulnerable with every line.

Entering the music scene just in time for the 80s, my mom Rin started making music at the age of 15. She came from a long line of mad artists, as she likes to call them. Most of the mad artists in our family barely made a living, until mom made her fourth album that topped the national charts and got international recognition. Though she didn’t make a neat profit until her sixth album, then she started selling millions of copies.

The reason behind Jeon Rin’s success has become a topic that even I was asked about. I could always reply in a heartbeat: not just one singular reason stood out, but many of her qualities helped her succeed (as they say) in the mean music world that white men had in their clutches. 

Jeon Rin made genuine music, to start with. She made people dance, and she made them lie on a rooftop and think about how the universe was made to be. Her music was about everything . One of her biggest strengths was that she could write tenderly and lure in anyone with a soul. Then, I must say, the second must be how fucking hardworking she was. She made an album every year and gave concerts in various cities in her country and around the world. Some of these concerts were for charity, and hardly earning her living didn’t stop her from working her butt to be perfect on stage and make everyone leave the show with a light chest. Even as a child, when I watched her past show records, I admired how energetic and lovely she was on stage, and how much fun she seemed to have. She was young, and she was immersed in making the music she liked.

It’s surprising, but people always liked her no matter how different she was from them. Maybe it was her welcoming manner that made everyone welcome her in return. Wherever she visited, she was home. It must be that she gave so much love to people that it was inevitable for all that love to catch up to her.

Around the age of 20, when almost everyone thought she rose to her career’s highest point, she started hanging out with a musician. I don’t need to tell the whole story there, but I was conceived as a result. While my mom fell in love with him, he ran away to contain his bright, rich life free of the responsibility of a partner and a child. Mom says she thought long and hard about whether she could be a mother, or if she really wanted to have a child before making the decision to keep me. She decided that she would raise me with the exact love and passion she had for music. 

And so she did.

When the word got out, somehow the rumor was that she quit making music, and she could only be a mother from that moment on. Media outlets reported on the fall of Jeon Rin, or simply “Rin” as they knew her, due to her bearing a child. Mom said once that it was pretty dramatic and a little ridiculous to her at the time, but now she sees it differently. From the very start of her career, she was loud and proud about being a woman, and a woman in the music industry. She supported women at times it was still scandalous for women to even work in some countries, she helped people in need, and she supported queer people both in her statements and her actions. She gave so much to people, especially to her country, only for some of them to turn their backs on her once she wasn’t all novel and, I am disturbed to say, an ingénue.

She recorded another album while she was pregnant with me. She told me the story so many times with such warmness in her voice: once she felt she wanted more privacy, she went to stay at the family house in Busan with the whole family. They helped her turn one of the bedrooms into a studio temporarily, and as she cooked with them, ate with them, went on hikes with them, and spent her time surrounded by people who loved her, she felt more and more strongly about continuing music. So the day she gave birth to me, the first day of September 1987, she released her seventh studio album. Contrary to everyone’s expectations, this album outsold all her previous albums.

Mom would never admit it to my face, but I know raising me was never easy on her. Soon after giving birth to me and releasing her seventh album, she was diagnosed with major depression. Most people at the time treated this subject as a stigma to be avoided – musicians who struggled with mental disorders were treated like freaks, rather than people who needed help. They still have a hard time grasping the concept of mental health and how to approach people with mental disorders, I dare say. It’s what people do, disregard what we have difficulty understanding. 

But there are people like my mom who don’t only put the effort into saving themselves but also reassure people that they’re not alone, and they can always ask for help. So she was put on meds, and she started seeing a therapist. In one of her interviews with one of the major international media outlets, she mentioned her struggle with depression and how she found talking to a professional to be helpful. The next morning, her name and her views were everywhere . They didn’t like someone talking about mental illnesses and encouraging psychotherapy, and some people started looking at her in a new light like she was guilty of something. 

Jeon Rin was someone who always knew how to use her voice, and she never stopped talking about what she thought was crucial to be told. She made songs about her experience with depression, anxiety, and loneliness with a brand new sound. Some cruelly attacked her for “talking about such private issues like she has no personal boundaries” , or “bringing up depression when, in the past, people were not weak like they are now” . Some even said, “if she had a father to her kid and didn’t raise him on her own she wouldn’t go through this and whine about it” . Her problems were the problems of modern women, and people didn’t approve of her talking about such things. Upon the release of her new album, these talks started simmering down, and the numbers her album did showed how many people tuned in, no matter how much contempt she had faced before.

No amount of nannies could give me the happiness she did, and no other parent could make me feel as loved and supported as she did. Though I had no other friend growing up, she made sure I wasn’t lonely, that I had her as my best friend. Her endless love and passionate music were the foundation of my existence.

September is the start of things. The start of my existence. The harvest season. The world turning shades of yellow. The start of love. For the twenty-eighth time, I am in the arms of someone I love, telling me there is one more year to watch the world change around me, to love and to be loved. 

September is a chance to start anew once more.

Chapter Text

Isn’t it strange that when you smell a scent, it can take you to the moment you first smelled it? If it were a sound or an image, it wouldn’t go beyond a simple reminiscence. But smells do it in the most realistic of ways. Maybe it’s about scents being volatile, and unpreservable. It makes sense that you hold tight onto something you know you will lose in a moment. To look at a picture from the past or to hear a song is not as powerful as a familiar smell bending your universe and your perception completely for the tiniest part of a second when you smell it. 

I have a scent like this, a personal one. A mixture of blood, cherry blossoms, wine, and Min Yoongi.

The realization that hits me the most at the times I cry is not knowing how I got there. How did I end up with my head against Yoongi’s chest? After vomiting for a while which felt like forever, I rest my nose on his neck to smell anything other than blood. I remember the dinner at midnight plan not working out so well. I remember that I drank a little wine even though Yoongi warned me against it. That the alcohol made me cry. That crying made me throw up. That Yoongi was there through it all, holding my hand tightly and gently caressing my back.

The cold feel of the flooring tiles is defeated by Yoongi’s embrace. He puts some distance between us, separating me from his chest, and helps me stand up and wash again. I watch his brittle eyes and a couple of moles on his face with a feeling resembling bemusement as I sit in the bathtub. While I give up all my beauty to stand tall and live another day, how can Yoongi manage to be so strong and so pretty? Yoongi’s hands are warm, and they clean me without ever hurting me. He spares a long moment to look me in the eyes affectionately when he realizes I’ve been watching him, then he rinses me down and wraps me in a towel.

I sit in my bed with the towel and I think about the moment this started.

I was never known to be an extrovert, not in the least. I did talk to people, but I never befriended them, really. People from my year would throw parties and I would kindly accept to go, I would make simple conversation, eat some snacks and leave. First of all, I dreaded having pictures of me taken in public when I was trying to talk to people. It made me feel like I was a piece in a museum, not a living, breathing person. Just a thing , a thing to see, to take pictures of. Not to talk to, just to talk about. Then, when they spoke to me, they would ask about my mom, and what it was like being a celebrity. Did I meet this celebrity? Did I go to that award show? Of course, I couldn’t explain to them that I wasn’t a celebrity, I never intended to be.

I thought no one my age was interested in me, that I would never have a friend that listened to me, and understood me. And it was okay, too. I was lucky to be loved so much already.

But mom disagreed. In her view, it wasn’t enough to just have her in my life, I had to have friends my age, people I just had fun with. On my sixteenth birthday, she made me throw a party and invite people I know from school and the neighborhood. The party was going to be at our house, and even though I didn’t like that part, mom made it impossible to say no. So the next time we went over to their house for dinner, I invited Taehyung to my party, thinking it could be easier if I had someone I know there, which was rather meaningless because I didn’t know him either.

The party was a little awkward at first. People praised me for my choice of music, wished me a happy birthday, and gifted me too many books. They seemed to like our house, especially the pool and mom’s record collection. As I was walking around the house and glimpsing at how everyone was doing, I saw someone out on the balcony, alone. It wasn’t someone I knew. After hesitating for only a moment, I walked up to them. 

The night out was somewhat breezy. “Lame party?” I asked jokingly. And there he was: Eyes so sparkly and so little, with such pretty lashes blossoming right above them. His hair was long and it complimented his cheeks.

He smiled and said “Cute birthday boy.”

Suddenly, my cheeks were burning red with the way his voice sounded. Wanting to say something more than a simple thank you, I waited and searched for the right words, but the silence got awkward in the end. “Hi,” then he said. “I’m Yoongi. Happy birthday.” “Oh thank you. I’m Jungkook. I’m glad you came.” Breaking our eye contact, he glanced through the door to everyone dancing inside. “Sorry, it got more crowded than I thought it would be.” He met his wondering eyes with mine. “All these people… They know you?” “No,” I shook my head. “They don’t.” He nodded silently as if he understood what I meant, but his eyes stayed on mine. “You must be cold, let me bring you something.”

I went up to my room and took a clean cardigan from my closet. I checked to see if my mom called or left any messages (which she didn’t) because she was already half an hour late. Then I went downstairs to the kitchen where I made two cups of hot chocolate for the both of us and dished up some snacks. After making sure everything was okay inside, I got back to the balcony. Yoongi was watching the dark skies as I left him. “Here, take this.” He looked shy but took the cardigan with a thank you and put it on. “Smells nice,” he said, commenting on the hot chocolate.

“We take chemistry together, am I right?” I asked, I wasn’t sure if I was the one who invited him. He nodded and added, “I came with my cousin but she left me so she could dance with somebody.” I pouted, then took a sip from my hot chocolate. It took all my courage to ask him. “ We could dance if you wanted to?” Something sparkled in his eyes and he said. “Yes, I’d like that,” with the warmest smile.

With rooms full of people, I danced with him. He kept his eyes on mine the whole time, and my heart never stopped fluttering. When he seemed to get a bit tired, I showed him around the house and the garden, then we got back to that balcony we met. He stayed silent as if he wanted to protect something – presumably something beautiful – in that silence. 

As I leaned on the parapet to watch the water gleam with city lights, he did the same. He was close and I was almost out of breath, looking at him. He whispered. “Can I?” I nodded slowly, my gaze on his charming lips. He kissed me gently, placed his hand on my cheek, and brushed my skin only for a moment. I wanted to ask for more, for him to caress my face as sweetly as he did but was too shy to ask. I wrapped my hands around Yoongi’s waist and didn’t stop holding him in my arms, even after the slow-paced kiss came to an end. I opened my eyes to see him open his. “That… was amazing,” I said, catching my breath. He smiled shyly. “It really was.” He kissed me again and whispered on my lips. “Happy birthday, pretty boy.”

The first moment I could find where it wouldn’t be weird to leave him, I excused myself to use the restroom. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and called my mom. She only picked up after the third call. “Mom, you’re missing everything!” I said whispering, so no one could hear. “I swear I’m trying to get there as fast as possible but I couldn’t get out of this meeting and then I got stuck in traffic. I’m sorry, baby.” She sounded sincerely sad that she couldn’t be there earlier and I didn’t want her to be more upset. “Okay but hurry up and drive safe. I love you.”

Mom arrived home in the middle of the card game some of the people were playing in the kitchen. I took her in and gave her some water, then she went to change her clothes only to come back and find Taehyung and me chatting in the hallway. Taehyung was about to leave and I was telling him how sorry I was about my party sucking. “No,” he said. “It didn’t suck at all. People are impressed by you, as they always are. You just… It’s just not my scene.” I leaned on the wall uncomfortably with my arms across my chest. Taehyung’s eyelashes had this slight gloom shading his gaze. He looked at me like he was waiting for something. 

“What is it that you consider your scene?”

“I don’t know exactly but crowds creep me out. It’s a thing.” That was the first moment I actually was interested in knowing something about him. Not in the “What’s his deal?” type of way, but rather, wanting to unveil the definite singularity that kept him away from us. Us - as in every other human in the world. It was also the moment I realized that Taehyung was utterly lonely.

“Tell me the thing in private, if that’s okay,” I whispered as he left through the door.

Mom was waiting aside for me to finish saying goodbye to a couple of people. I told her I needed to go look for someone, and she said she would make the rounds and check in on the guests.

I found Yoongi sitting by the pool. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you a present. I honestly didn’t know what to gift you,” he said as I offered him one of the glasses of lemonade I had in hand.

“Oh, no,” I said. “You definitely gave me one.”

And he gave me one more kiss as he left after everyone was gone. This was the kiss that started it all – the late night calls, the meetings in cafes and gardens, the cinema dates, my touches of laughter that made his eyes shine like never before, the walks to school with our hands tied, the kisses that stayed with me through each night that year, like silk sewn on my skin. The start of our love, our friendship, and the bond that I could never name – all at once.

And you know what they say. It’s what you can’t name that captivates and consumes you the most, the one thing that takes over your existence.

I had taken two of those things – two people, to be exact – in my life that night.

I hear Taehyung’s voice resound through the hallway, the thousands of whispers of him that say sorry: “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean for this, please let me in, I’m sorry...”

And Yoongi taking his key to my house from him, simply telling him “Leave”.

Chapter Text

It was never in my plans to be Taehyung's best friend. Not that I had imagined myself being in a more intimate relationship with him, to tell the truth – Taehyung being in my life and everything that unfolded afterward were not happenings that I had foreknew. I'd never expected his importance to me to be more than the son whom I didn't understand, or rather didn't see the need to understand, of the neighbors whom we occasionally had dinner with.

For me, he was nothing more than the "What's the meaning of me sitting with you at this table?" stance of him, the picking at his salad in an "I don't particularly take joy in being here," way of him, and a little of "I hate all formalities," frowning of him.

I didn't need to dive deeper, the sole verdict that I had reached without thinking much about him was that he was a bit cranky in nature.

Never had I known that he would keep my hands in his when I was seeking to hide from every other living soul. He had what was a kind soul sparkling under a blanket of horrors. He too was afraid of everything, but if he were to tell me how it felt, I might have not believed his true heart. Before that afternoon, every time I met Taehyung was a sage haze, for he was a stranger to my secrets and I was blinded by my prejudice toward his nature.

Until I let him in.

In any case, Taehyung is not one to meddle in others’ lives. Keeping his nose out of anyone else’s business is more like him, and that much I had known even before I could say I was his friend. That Saturday, when I was running along the shore in a big black hoodie that covered my features with my mask on, his catching up with my pace and telling me he knows a place we could hide was a shock to my system. Maybe this simple act was what had me drawn to Taehyung. Soon, I would be fallen, caught in his ways.

Taehyung found a bike from the rentals around the shore, put a blue coat around my shoulders, and told me to get on the bike. With my arms around him, he drove to his family’s mansion, only this time using their back door leading to the backyard. Although I was too stressed at that moment to thank him for his attentiveness, he had chosen to use the entrance that would be clean from the crowd outside. We got off the bike and he told me to get down and not draw attention. When I was peeking through the fences, Taehyung entered through the door. I hugged my knees and waited for some time in panic, asking myself whether I trusted him to start with. After a couple of minutes, Taehyung returned with two keys: one of a car, and the other of a house.

His mother’s driver quietly got us out of the neighborhood, I watched the buildings and fields go far behind us with each passing moment. I felt Taehyung’s questioning eyes on me, but I was relieved because Taehyung didn’t say a single word the whole ten-minute drive there. When we drove uphill and finally arrived, it was a lovely green saltbox house. Taehyung told the driver that she could leave.

I walked through the door of 3 Violet Hill with Taehyung for the first time with his coat around me. The inside of the saltbox house felt familiar like a simple afternoon when mom and I baked cookies and played video games. A faint smell of pine and cinnamon, a messy quilt over the sofa, and one empty cup on the kitchen counter. Taehyung told me this was his grandmother’s house before she died a year and a half ago. I told him I was sorry for his loss, and he looked genuinely sad when he was accepting my condolences.

“Will your parents be okay… with us being here?” I asked. Before, I was not sure whether to talk about personal matters with him, but there we were. There was no turning back now. Yeah, Taehyung said. Father was upset with me today, and mom let me have the keys to stay away from him. Taehyung often spoke of his parents distantly, but I didn’t know that well back then.

The oven had a lovely teakettle with flower patterns on it, and as soon as Taehyung took off his coat, he boiled some water for tea. I sat on the comfy couch, waiting for him. It was awkward to be there with him, a stranger place with someone not so familiar to me. My reason was telling me I could trust him at least to some extent, but how far would it be, I didn’t know. As I was clutching onto my hoodie, he asked me whether I wanted to see the house, so we walked around the house a bit. 

There was the kitchen, first. A lovely, lovely kitchen with a sofa, a small TV, two radios, a Persian rug, pictures of a dog with a much younger Taehyung on the refrigerator door, and Taehyung’s height over the years marked on one of the walls. There was a reading room, as Taehyung called it, it was a lot like a library but there were lots of cushions around the room and a giant couch in the middle, and another Persian rug. The room received a great amount of light and smelled much lighter than one would expect. 

After the restrooms, he showed me upstairs, a loft bedroom with broad windows. The bed was carelessly made, and as I understood, Taehyung was the last person to sleep there. The bedroom smelled like him, which felt quite good. There were three guitars (one acoustic, and two basses) and a piano in the corner of the room. The place was clean and some plants seemed to be taken good care of, from which I collected that Taehyung’s family kept this place tidy. Maybe a housekeeper, or Taehyung himself, I wouldn’t know and wish to ask.

“What do you mean, you left?” Mom asked on the phone. I had excused myself to talk to her in the kitchen, and she was already worried sick when I reached out to her. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” 

I told her how Taehyung helped me avoid the crowd of photographers, and brought me to a safe place. When I spoke, my voice came out horrified. “I’m okay, I’m just… It was scary, mom. I knew it was going to be a lot but this was… Even people from the press were throwing things at me when I was leaving the interview. They looked at me like I’m a freak.” 

Mom sighed and answered with a soft voice. It’s tough, we’d known it would be but… It’s different to go through it than just speculating. I’m still with you, I will always be. This going to simmer down and we will be okay. Tell me, what do you need? I can pick you up and we could go home if you’d want that. Or I could send you staff for security.

I need a little time to be alone and away from the screams., I told her. The security would be good, though.

I paused and gulped, thinking for a second. “I love you, mom. I could have never done this if it weren’t for you,” I whispered.

You’re too young to be handling this kind of thing, mom said. But you’re strong and you have me, and we will be alright.

When I got back to Taehyung, he had changed into more comfortable clothing. We ordered pizza using the home phone, and Taehyung turned the TV on to have some noise in the background. Thanks, I said. I know you’re already dealing with your own thing, it’s great of you to take care of me this way.

It’s okay, said Taehyung. Do you like it here?

Amazing, I replied, smiling faintly. I wish I could come here at a… happier time.

To this, Taehyung told me I was always welcome there.

The moment stopped, the noise from the TV felt distant and Taehyung was just another soul close to mine, coaxing me to speak. I don’t know why we never talk, I said softly. We could’ve. We should’ve.

Then I stopped and confessed: I was judgmental because I thought you mostly seemed aggressive.

Yeah? Taehyung inhaled. That's... that's who I am.

No, I said. In the dark of the kitchen, we shared silent gazes. You might come off that way but that's not who you are, I continued. Some people don't know how to react in some situations, so they may seem rude.

Taehyung shrugged. That's what being aggressive is.

Aggressive people choose to act that way, I insisted without knowing why. Not that there is no other way of coping with the situation at hand, but they like being intimidating and a bit of a pain in the ass.

So I'm not intimidating or a pain in the ass?

“Intimidating, definitely you are.” I grinned before continuing. “But I'd say it's because you haven't found a way to express yourself better yet."

You like to pretend you know me, don't you? Taehyung asked with a grin matching mine. I had never seen him like this, grinning, relaxed.

I'm just observing, I explained to him. You can disclaim my opinions any way you'd like.

His only response was his chuckling before the bell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza order.

I never tried to understand him, but he was the only person to understand me when I was having the most fragile of moments.

Chapter Text

Do you need any milk? There came a voice from between the isles. Yeah, I said, then continued while pointing at the other carton of milk. I would go for the low fat one, though. Taehyung shook his head silently and for some reason I didn’t quite understand, he opted for the low fat one as I recommended. Hey, you don’t happen to own a pancake pan, do you?, I asked while looking for some flour.

At this, Taehyung was unexpectedly furious. “Why would I not own a pancake pan? Of course I do. I’m not five, you know. I make pancakes. I make a decent pajeon, I remember making hotteok. I even own a bungeoppang pan, I bought it in a frenzy to be honest but do I remotely regret it? Definitely not.”

“Whoa, stop. I just wasn’t sure whether you cooked frequently, because if you didn’t, it would make sense for you to not own a pancake pan. Since it’s like, a bit of a specific thing to own. Anyways. I want ice cream. Do you want ice cream?” Taehyung shrugged. “Sure. Strawberry, please.”

We arrived at 3 Violet Hill in a couple of minutes, and Taehyung complained the whole way there because of the amount of apples I bought to eat. Who even likes apples, he said while carrying the heavy bags uphill. He was out of breath and looked a little funny when he was mad at something small like this. They’re probably the vaguest form that a fruit can come in. Out of all the fruits existing in the world and all that money sitting in your pockets, you choose to spend a whole lot of money on apples. Not even, like, the really shiny red ones. Just some regular green apples.

They’re not regular green apples, I objected without knowing why. They’re those sour ones. I really like them, sorry that they don’t fit your qualifications for non-vague fruits but I do. And we can bake an apple tart with the spare ones.

You don’t bake an apple tart with green, sour apples. You need the red ones. They’re good for pie.

That’s not true! I stopped for a minute to calm down, because I didn’t want to raise my voice when talking to him. My mom and I use the green ones all the time. What’s their name? Oh yeah, the Granny Smith kind. They’re perfect for pie, too.

Taehyung pouted for a couple of minutes, then. I avoided looking at him in case he would notice my smile until we walked through the door and put the groceries on the countertop. I’m gonna take a quick shower upstairs, feel free to do whatever you want until I’m back, Taehyung said and without waiting for me to reply, he went upstairs.

I walked toward the phone and dialed Yoongi’s number.

Hey, are you okay? I’ve been waiting to hear from you, Yoongi said as soon as he heard me saying hello. I’m okay, I replied. Just exhausted. I really miss you. How have you been?

Not great. I was anxious, seeing the news and going to school without you there and, well…

Yeah?

People are so stupid and they talk shit about you and about people like us and all I can do at school is to sit there and listen to it and pretend I’m not your boyfriend… I hate it. I hate every second of it. I wanted to stand up for myself and for you too but I didn’t know how you would feel about it, so I just sat there and stared at them.

There was a silence before Yoongi continued.

I’m sorry about it all. You’re incredibly beautiful and all the things you said in your interview about being queer were exceptionally amazing. I’m so proud of you.

Thank you, but they were not any more exceptionally amazing than you. I paused for a second. I’m sorry too… It’s been hard. I expected coming out would be really hard but… I’m still not a grown-up, you know and having adults attack me on TV and the papers for the whole country and the world to see feels… Not so great. I don’t know how this will end. I’m here, at Taehyung’s grandma’s house, we’re basically just staying in and wearing strange clothes that cover up our silhouettes when we do go out, it just makes me feel itchy. I don’t want to be hiding, but I don’t know what else there is to do, really.

Jungkook, you’re not hiding, Yoongi said calmly. His voice was so affectionate that I breathed in with a smile. What you’re doing is making sure you’re not getting hurt by these frantic, stupid, hateful people. And you have every right to do that. He paused. You’re staying with Taehyung? How did that happen?

Oh, I ran into him on my way home and he helped me escape the crowd outside our place, I explained. Stopped and listened to hear the shower still running, then I lowered my voice to make sure Taehyung couldn’t hear me talking. It’s strange, really. He was the one offering me to stay with him, and he’s not awfully quiet like he gets when we visit them or when I see him at school. He even baked for the two of us and the security staff, and we had a discussion earlier about the kind of apple that is appropriate for pie. He defended the red ones but I opted for Granny Smith.

When Yoongi spoke, I could picture him smiling while talking to me. I’m voting for Granny Smith, too, mister.

Then there was a peaceful silence where I realized how much I actually missed him in only two days. I’m glad it’s going well over there.

Yoongi and I had been in that place in the relationship where everything was perfect and glamorous, where every gaze and every touch we shared counted, where all we did was create folk songs for our love through the days and nights of the buzzing boredom of our days. It would all soon have changed, for I did not see how the tranquility he had given me was life itself, for I did not know how to stop myself from drowning in my own feelings. But I still wanted every little moment with him to count, I always did.

I’m sorry that I never told you about the interview, that I would come out as bisexual, I said. I’m sorry that I left you in the dark. It must’ve been hard on you, to not know how to deal with the situation at hand. This was a lot to handle and I wasn’t considerate of you and your place in all of this. It was not fair to you, I didn’t share enough when I should have. 

My throat hurt, and I stopped for a moment before asking him whether he could accept my apology. I get it, Yoongi said, I really do. And I accept your apology. I just… Next time, though I don’t know whether a situation like this would arise again in the future, please, please talk to me first, just so I know what’s going on in your world. It doesn’t feel great to be dealing with these things when I don’t have you. Because I need you.

I swallowed the ugly lump in my throat. Hearing the hurt in Yoongi’s voice was the worst thing in the world for me. I need you too, I said. More than anything. I paused and confessed: You will always have me, Yoongi.

Yoongi told me I would always have him too, then said he needed to hang up now. Placing the receiver back in its rest, I saw Taehyung standing by the staircase with his hair wet, leaning on the railing, looking at me distantly.

So, that was Yoongi on the phone, I said. Taehyung walked over to the kitchen counter. Yeah? How’s he doing?, Taehyung asked. Okay, I said and leaned on the counter right next to him. He called to make sure I was fine. Taehyung was whipping up something to eat for dinner, and to help him I started making salad. We could just buy salad kits, you know, Taehyung said under his breath. I’m glad to hear he’s okay. He paused and continued. Are you okay, though?

Yeah, I said. This is good, you know, to be here. It’s different and cozy, and knowing I’m safe and away from everything here relieves me. And those kits are not healthy, let me tell you. I turned around to find Taehyung smiling, then he helped me soak the tomatoes in the vinegar and water solution. 

You and Yoongi, um, are you two dating? 

Thrown off by the question, I stopped rinsing the cucumbers. I studied his face and afterwards, cleared my throat. Uh, yeah, we are, I said. Is that so blatantly obvious?

Not really, Taehyung replied. Just that, other people don’t see you like I do.

Whether he knew it or not, he left me with a predicament for the rest of the time I was staying there. Nevertheless, I couldn’t come up with a reply no matter how much I tried, so I started chopping the ingredients in silence.

The next day, I woke up realizing I had fallen asleep on the couch again while we were watching a rom-com film that Taehyung had on DVD. After having omelets and chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and reading books until noon, we climbed upstairs and I listened to Taehyung play me some songs he wrote. I complimented him on his songwriting skills and the beauty of his voice, and he told me I was just being nice to him. There was no way for me to explain to him how far off track he was, but I still promised to prove him wrong. Then he played a song on the piano while I lay in bed, listening to him.

You know, I could set you up to meet with some people looking for a bassist. What do you think?

How’d you even do that? You’re only sixteen, Taehyung replied. It seemed to me that Taehyung was only pretending to be not interested in the offer very much.

My mom likes to meet young talents and give them a chance to record their music, so I could just ask her. If that doesn’t work out, I could just print an ad for you, I said. That’s when Taehyung started chuckling. Even though I wasn’t sure as to why he lightened up with the idea of what I said, I went along with the bit. I could even be your manager, I continued with a serious face. Don’t you laugh! You know I can do it.

It’s not that you can’t do it, Taehyung said, his smile visibly fading. I’ve been having these fights with my dad, and he doesn’t like that I play music. He doesn’t like anything that I do, that I am in general.

He placed his hands on his lap, and went quiet.

I rose to my feet, taking in a deep breath and sat right beside him. The sharp boundaries between people like him and people like me were hard to smooth and I didn’t want to be intruding and making him feel restless, so I reached out carefully for his hand, and only held it when he seemed okay with it. There was eagerness in me to speak, let my words gently get under his skin and let the poison in him out. But I preferred the silence in the end, noticing how easy it was to just sit with him. Even though he was feeling upset he was not at all aggressive with me, just as I had suggested. What Taehyung needed was space, support and affection to discover who he really was.

Fiddling with my fingers, Taehyung met my eyes. It’s not that he cried, but his eyes still looked so sad. His voice came out hoarse when he spoke. Do you think you could really arrange the thing with your mother?

I smiled and nodded in agreement. I definitely think so. Now, let’s go make some hot chocolate for you, what do you say?

And Taehyung gave in without a fight.

As a teenager, I believed too strongly in the power of hot chocolate. Maybe it was the warmth, or the sweetness, or the mixture of all the great things that made hot chocolate what it is. But even I didn’t think it was the hot chocolate he slowly but eagerly sipped that made Taehyung smile like he did. The way his eyes brightened up, the way he jumped to his feet to sing karaoke with an empty bottle he found somewhere in the kitchen cupboards.

In the evening, we had dinner with the security staff and they lit the fireplace for us. The blanket in my hands, I settled on the couch with my book. After some time, Taehyung put his book down and cleared his throat to gather the attention of the only person in the room. 

I think you should sleep with me, upstairs, in the bedroom. His eyes traced mine as if looking for clues and after a long pause, he continued speaking. You know, you keep falling asleep here on the couch and I don’t want to wake you up but I’m afraid you’ll end up with a backache. I go to sleep in that double bed, it’s really not fair.

It was the first time I slept next to him. The first few hours felt so strange in a way I didn’t know how to describe. Taehyung was silent, but I knew he was also awake, just lying there under the covers with his eyes closed and his back to me. I reached for the night lamp and turned it on, and read for some time until I fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning with the sun rays seeping through the windows and into my eyelids, my book was safe and sound, on Taehyung’s nightstand. 

My first visit to 3 Violet Hill only lasted 5 days in total. In retrospect, I thought it was a complex but beautiful time for both Taehyung and I. There shifted something in our relationship, we were friends now.

The security staff accompanied us on our way back home. Taehyung and I talked about his possible career in music and how he could manage to do music without getting his father to kick him out of his house. There’s always the option of renting a place to practice regularly, but I don’t know what lie you could tell your father, I said. Taehyung told me he could handle it.

As we approached the house, I couldn’t help but notice how empty it was in front of both our mansions. They’re gone, I think, I said to Taehyung. He only nodded but didn’t seem any relaxed, which was normal for him from my experience. His grins and laughs were particular to 3 Violet Hill.

I got out of the car after Taehyung, and the driver joined the security staff and left. We stood there in front of our houses in silence and exchanged looks. I thanked him for the thousandth time. Taehyung said it was okay, that he was glad to be of help. He seemed genuine in his words. 

Record your demo this weekend, I told Taehyung and ended up kissing him on the cheek as a thank you before I left.

Mom was, obviously, relieved to see me but also very good at hiding how panicked she was to have me go through that and not be able to help. It was not true that she did not help, though, because she told me about this interview she gave after I came out. It was broadcast on TV, and mom was asked a lot of questions (some of which were very weird and invasive) about me and my sexuality. As always, Mom’s attitude was very cool and she calmly answered everything, as she told me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, she told me when we were curled up on the sofa under some blankets together with hot chocolate in our hands. But I never gave in to their hate and made them look really stupid so it’s all going to be okay I think.

I smiled faintly.

To be completely honest, I didn’t want her to be wrapped up in all this. Mom had her share of hate from the media for all these years, and there were still tons of people shitting on mom just because she was a successful woman in music. I wanted the best for her, really… But - but there was also this side of me that was relieved to have her have my back. Mom’s words meant a lot - to me and to a lot of people around the world. There would be people just like me, confused and oppressed and smothered and lonely – and these people could find strength in her. I thanked for speaking up, and it was a little dry but I knew mom would get it. At that moment, I was just so tired from all the crying and the breakdown and from the shower numbing me down.

Until midnight, mom and I discussed how we could handle this together. Should I go to school or - or do we need extra security now? Deep down, I knew this wouldn’t die down easily so I told her I wanted to continue school but the security could help. Suddenly mom hugged me and held my head against her chest softly and kissed my hair continuously. I’m sorry, she said, I’m sorry for all the things I can’t grant you, kid. I really want to, I want to keep you safe and sound. But it doesn’t always work. It’s not easy at all.

I know, I said. But you try, and you’re the best mom a person could dream of having.

To this, Jeon Rin laughed out loud. You’re the best kid ever, you know.

Then I went to bed, and I couldn’t sleep for hours. There was an uneasiness I didn’t know what to do about. I called Yoongi, he picked up sounding like he just woke up but he still didn’t care that it was too late an hour to call. We talked on the phone for an hour, which helped a lot. Yoongi promised me he would come over and stay the night tomorrow and as I fell asleep, I held onto his promise.

The next morning I woke up around noon and found a note on the fridge mom left, telling me there were pancakes and that I should rest today. When I checked the mail, I found a cassette in an envelope with my name and a note on it.

“I kind of already had a demo, so…” said the note. I excitedly ran into the house and up the stairs and put the cassette in the player. The track started somehow fun and after a short and slow part, came in really beautiful and deep riffs. I understood as I listened that this was a song that Taehyung was writing, although there were no lyrics. It had a lot of potential, and I thought at least ten bands in a ten mile radius would kill to have him. Mom had said that she would look into it in no time, so I thought it would really work for Taehyung. I was gonna get Taehyung a record deal. A great one.

I turned the TV on, and sat on the couch with my chocolate chip pancakes and some juice. Hopping through the channels with no care, I stumbled into a clip of myself and my heart felt so tight in my chest I thought I was having a heart attack of some sort. It was not a regular clip where I was with mom at some event – this was taken in my private time, right in front of my house. My home, a place that was meant to be my haven of all places. I had lots of pics of me taken in school or in cafes, which I was forced to grow accustomed to eventually. This was different, and what’s more is I wasn’t alone.

I called Taehyung up and told him to turn on that channel. He sounded startled, obviously, and I felt so sorry at that moment that I had brought him in this shit with me.

What the hell is this…, Taehyung could say, voice coming out almost weak.

I’m sorry, I really didn’t know, I tried saying but Taehyung wasn’t listening.

How the hell can they do this to you? He asked, but it was rhetorical and I was nearly scared of his anger, even though it wasn’t directed at me, but was sheltering me. For fuck’s sake, you’re sixteen, why is this even allowed on TV? They can’t do this to you, you should… You should sue them, we should sue them…

Then Taehyung went quiet for a while.

Fuck, he said. My dad… He’s gonna see this shit on TV.

Are you gonna get in trouble? I’m so sorry… I could speak to him if you want?

No, Taehyung rejected. My dad never listens to anyone, like, other than from his cult.

His what?

He’s… My parents and - actually all my relatives are in this super religious cult… It’s freaky, and they forced me to also join. This is gonna blow up in my face so badly, I can’t even imagine it.

My heart was even tighter, which didn’t seem like a possibility before but now that I was experiencing it, it felt a lot like… Like I couldn’t breathe or think anymore. My mind felt muddy and I couldn’t hear Taehyung speak for some time. I asked him if he could come over, but I wasn’t really aware of the words I was speaking.

Next thing I knew, Taehyung was trying to get me to drink some water from a big coffee cup. Hey, are you okay? Taehyung asked and I nodded, even though it wasn’t true at all.

I was sitting on the floor with my legs drawn to my chest, and Taehyung looked like he was crying just a minute ago. He turned the TV off, helped me lay down on the couch, and sat with me. I’m gonna call your mom and tell her about this, Taehyung said. I nodded and tried to breathe deep and count my breaths, watching his back while Taehyung was on the phone.

I didn’t ask what they talked about with my mom, and instead of telling me, he tried helping me relax by putting on some soft rock and getting me to eat. I told him I liked his demo, and Taehyung laughed so brightly I couldn’t believe it was him.

The doorbell rang and Taehyung ran to answer.

I had my eyes closed when I heard Yoongi’s worried voice calling my name. Hey, he said. I came as soon as I could.

Yoongi looked different, which was the first thing I noticed. He sat on the floor but didn’t touch me at all, and his face looked a bit… reserved, which was pretty unusual for Yoongi, at least when he was around me. In all his worry, I could see his hesitation on his lips as he told me it would be okay soon.

But then it wasn’t okay soon, not okay at all, because half an hour after Taehyung left us alone in the house, Yoongi told me he couldn’t see me anymore.

This wouldn’t mean we weren’t gonna be friends anymore, according to him. But he didn’t want to date me anymore.

Do you not trust me? I asked. Because there’s nothing going on with Taehyung, I swear. He’s just my friend and I wanted to – I was saying thank you for helping me –

This is not about you, Jungkook, Yoongi said quickly. I’m going through something personal and until I can figure out some things, I don’t want to date anyone. Yoongi paused and breathed in, his face reflecting his pain. I can’t handle a partner at the moment… Does that make sense?

I nodded. I was feeling crappy, but I knew I couldn’t do a thing unless Yoongi wanted my help.

You’re not mad that I kissed Taehyung like that? That we ended up on TV?

Yoongi looked confused, as if it was obvious that he wasn’t mad at all. Why would I be mad? Taehyung is our friend, Yoongi said. You kissing him on the cheek doesn’t mean shit. And the TV thing is not either of your fault.

After I sat up and he sat right next to me, we sat there together for a while, and I held him gently. I was reminiscing about the first time he and I had sex, how awkward but sweet it was, and every time after that it felt a lot better and I fell more and more in love with him. And Yoongi was sitting there, right next to me, not mine to love anymore. I’m sorry about what you’re going through, I said. I’m gonna miss you so much.

Yoongi let out a giggle. Me too, he said.

And even though Yoongi had said it wasn’t about me, deep down, I was always gonna feel a little crappy about our breakup, about the way it ended, about my photos where I was kissing Taehyung’s cheek ending up on TV for everyone to see, including Yoongi, and about the way Yoongi was so kind throughout the whole process, running to come soothe my anxiety the moment he saw Taehyung on me on TV, instead of blaming me.

***

Later on, as if carrying out an unspoken agreement, Taehyung and I started having sleepovers at 3 Violet Hill on the weekends. It was almost like a ritual. Most times Taehyung would play me the songs he was working on, and I would listen to his concerns about the tracks. 

Taehyung already had gotten a record deal by then with people my mom knew, and he met this boy named Seokjin who was a year older than us, and they started a band called “4people”. The name made no sense at the time to me – but Taehyung said he had his reasons, and Seokjin seemed to be okay with the name. No band gets crazy famous because they have a cool name, we just need to make great music and play them well, Seokjin said.

I was back in school, which felt a lot like hell after the photographs ending up on the news. My mom had already spoken to her lawyers about the situation and there was gonna be a hearing which Taehyung and I too would have to attend. I was dreading this time to come, because there was already so much Taehyung was dealing with.

Taehyung’s father tried to kick him out – yelling at Taehyung for letting me stay at his grandma’s house. Apparently, he didn’t think very highly of me after I came out.

Taehyung fought him over the matter, which only helped a bit – Taehyung moved out and was usually either staying at ours or at his grandma’s house on 3 Violet Hill. Sometimes, he went over to Yoongi’s place too, but not as frequently. Taehyung’s mom was a little softer on Taehyung, fighting with her husband to let Taehyung back, convincing him to not let Taehyung fall flat on his face financially. She was still not accepting of Taehyung, or me for that matter, but at least was trying to help him survive the fall.

One night, at 3 Violet Hill, Taehyung was telling me about his father calling him and trying to force him to quit school and drop music and stuff. Taehyung started crying at some point, and told me that his parents were not his biological family. Taehyung was adopted when he was little and didn’t know much about his actual family. Even if I knew they were alive, Taehyung said, my parents have so much money that there’s literally no chance that people would listen to me and let me find my family. They just hear the money talk, and my family gets away with anything.

There was only so much I could do to help Taehyung, which made me feel awful most of the time. And I was still not over Yoongi too, which was not helping, because we hung out every day but now only as friends.

Things started to get much more complicated very soon, because I wasn’t falling out of love with Yoongi at all, and I was slowly falling in love with Taehyung at the same time.

Chapter Text

“Ouch!” I screeched as some loser from the year below threw a ball at my back. “Watch your move!”

The answer I got was “Shut up, Jeon,” and I was too tired to even bother scolding them.

Sitting next to me, Taehyung was shooting daggers at the guy’s back.

It was lunch break and almost everybody was at the cafeteria, except some kids who were playing ball, and Taehyung and I were sitting at the top of some stone wall, drinking juice together. Taehyung looked like absolute crap, the darkest of circles under his eyes – I could tell he was caffeinated, dehydrated and sleepless. I didn’t tell him that, though. 

We were planning on going to Violet Hill and spending the weekend there again, and I had already rented The Breakfast Club so we could watch it together. Taehyung said we could order in and that was enough to get me excited.

Then entered Yoongi, with a girl on his arm.

Clutching hard on my juice bottle, I spilled a lot of it on my uniform by accident. Not to say how awful I felt just by seeing someone with him, and not me. Taehyung yelled out, “Shit!” I pointed to Yoongi and the girl, and Taehyung seemed to understand what I meant immediately and helped me clean up. 

As I looked up, there was Yoongi, also looking at me and the moment our eyes met, I felt this sudden, invisible parting between our lives – now Yoongi got to spend his time with somebody else and do whatever they liked, and I only got to watch it from afar, only the bits he permitted me to see. Was it only in my head, or did Yoongi really mean to cause this parting between us? I couldn’t imagine Yoongi wishing this kind of thing for us, or was that only my perception of him? No, couldn’t be, really. In every sense, Yoongi was much more than that.

However, it was still true that now he wasn’t mine, he had decided that, and there was nothing I could do about his choice.

I was never one to hold grudges, and I wasn’t completely angry with Yoongi to start with. But I also hadn’t experienced anything of this sort before, like, a romantic break-up. The process was nothing like I had expected of a break-up. Proper heartache and constant longing was what it actually was. No wonder why people fell sick because of it.

“I feel awful,” I said while watching Yoongi play basketball with the girl, resting his forehead on hers as he hid the ball behind him. The two of them stood there, and I watched them until I physically couldn’t anymore. Then I turned and found Taehyung looking at me. He reached for my hand and said “Well, it’s gonna be absolute crap before it gets a bit better.”

But he was gonna be there, I knew it from the way he smiled.

The weekend felt like it came sooner than I imagined. Friday night, I packed some clothes and was careful to include the DVD for the film marathon we were gonna have. My mom kissed me and made me promise to call when I got there. The driver approached our front door, and I waved mom goodbye.

As soon as we got to 3 Violet Hill, Taehyung hugged me tightly as if I hadn’t just seen him that afternoon. Grabbing a cassette from his backpack, he made me listen to a song that he and Seokjin recently recorded. It sounded a little dry – much slower than their other songs, but also lacking in something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. “This could be a sing-along type of song if it had a little more glamor to it, you know,” I said. 

Grinning wryly, Taehyung started replaying the track from the start. “I know, right? Seokjin and I thought that too. You’re really gonna make a great manager.”

“Shut up,” I said, but was smiling with joy.

“Okay, okay. Seriously though, it needs a little something… I just don’t know what that is.”

A little timid, I asked who had written the lyrics for the song. Myself, Taehyung said. But they’re not set in stone, really, I know I could do a much better job with more effort. They’re lousy at best.

“It’s not that,” I said. “But they sound so sad. Do you really feel that way?”

The song was about never growing up enough, never being your own person no matter how hard you try – they didn’t sound at all like they were written by a seventeen year old. Taehyung was singing about how he was still the same kid who was telling stories to their toys, and playing on their own.

Taehyung nodded. “Mostly.”

“I think you should dive a little deeper, get a bit more personal. Obviously, discuss it with Seokjin first before. I think he’ll have some personal things to add to the writing process. If not words, it could be perspective, you know. That kind of helps.” 

I breathed in. At those times, when we were first building our friendship, it was not as easy to open up, not at all. Especially considering how linked to each other our lives were… We had to see each other everywhere. Not that we didn’t want to, obviously, but if you bore yourself open to someone, you would also need just as much privacy to preserve some sort of feeling of safety. An affirmance that you were still whole. “I especially liked the parts about… the part where you talk about the dullness of our lives, like they’re frozen, rid of affection for each other. Makes a lot of sense.”

“Especially if you’re coming from a rich background,” Taehyung said with excitement. “I know that your mom and your family are different, but for my parents and everyone around us… It feels like we’re stuck in this hideous bubble, where nothing matters, nothing is of substance.”

The evening was slow-paced. Zucchini pancakes and iced tea, a tour of the neighborhood, biking all the way up and then back to our place. We ran into the couple in 11 Violet Hill, the blue villa in the next block on our way back. Then we picked up violets from up the hill and I placed them on Taehyung’s ear. Taehyung said thank you to me, almost blushing. I smiled at him in relief.

We ended up ordering pizza because we stayed up late watching movies and were feeling peckish. At some point during the night, I realized Taehyung was sipping alcohol from a little flask that somehow popped out of nowhere. At first, I didn’t know what to say because of the shock. 

Mom had strict rules about certain things – no alcohol until I was 20 without her supervision was one of them. That was the way I was raised and Taehyung casually drinking out of a flask and looking not even a bit nervous about it told me clearly he was used to this – drinking. Knowing his parents, it wasn’t a possibility in the slightest that they allowed this. Every dinner at either theirs or ours, Taehyung and I were served soft drinks, and that was never even a discussion.

Hey, I nudged Taehyung in the waist. What’s that you’re drinking?

His eyes looked out of focus and blue. “Nothing, just some… I don’t know. I mixed some  things, no idea what it ended up becoming.”

“So that’s alcohol?"

Taehyung was half-amused by the question. “Obviously,” he said, and then passed me the flask. Hesitating, I took the metal flask and sniffed a bit. The drink was heavy in smell, almost like tar, turning my stomach up. I took a tiny sip and then gave a grimace. “Gross,” I said. Now fully amused, Taehyung took the flask back. Well, he said, bully for you.

Part of me wanted to take the flask back and drain it down the toilet, but I felt it wasn’t my place to do so. We weren’t that close yet, now, were we? Who was I to tell him not to drink?

In hindsight, it was my place of all people. Should’ve done everything in my power to stop him from drinking, whatever it took. Could’ve helped him save himself from a world of pain. That… that would’ve meant everything for him. I just didn’t know that back then.

On the other hand, Taehyung knew just what to do to help save me. Around dawn, when we went upstairs and to bed, Taehyung asked, “Why don’t we invite Yoongi over?”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?” The bed was warm enough, and Taehyung’s body next to mine was familiar by now.

“Yeah,” Taehyung said. “But… you have to put some effort in, otherwise he’ll think now that you are broken up, you’re not interested in his company.”

“That’s dumb,” I said.

“Well, he doesn’t know that.”

“I invite him over all the time,” I said. “And he comes over to my house, and we talk. We’re cool… We’re just not boyfriends anymore.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Taehyung was mulling over a thought, staring at my cheek, as if the answers were written on my skin. “He’s too precious to lose, don’t you think?”

We met eyes, and I knew Taehyung was being genuine. He looked sad.

“Why do you drink?” I asked warily. We had gone through some real messed up stuff and had each other’s back even when we didn’t know each other well, so maybe this would be okay. Maybe Taehyung would be okay with sharing, and if he was not, he could always tell me to fuck off.

Taehyung seemed like he was about to fall asleep, his forefinger resting faintly on my cheek. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe because it relaxes me… and takes my mind off things. I don’t know what to do to not feel fucking sad all the time, other than to drink. I guess I got used to it after some time.”

Of course I knew of others our age who drank for fun. They would make adults buy them drinks or sneak in bars with fake IDs, the usual thing. This was not the same, though and I was somehow aware of it.

“I wish you never did,” I said, before both of us got silent and fell deep into sleep.

As I slipped out of bed around noon, I was careful not to wake Taehyung who was still resting. I went downstairs, made some coffee and toast, and called my mom on the homephone.

“Hi,” said mom. “What you doing, kid?”

“Having breakfast,” I replied. “I just woke up. We stayed up all night watching His Girl Friday, My Neighbor Totoro, The Breakfast Club, Dog Day Afternoon, and… Grease!”

“I can’t imagine Taehyung watching Grease,” said mom.

“Well, he even enjoyed it a little,” I said and smiled in amusement. After hesitating for a moment, I added, “I tried alcohol for the first time.”

“What?” Mom sounded shocked, but not exactly angry.

“Yeah, only took a sip, actually. It was intolerable.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be drinking,” mom said, and I knew she was being understanding even from the way she spoke.

“I didn’t intend to drink,” I explained. “And now that I know what it tastes like, I don’t think I ever will.”

Okay, said mom. There was silence, and not the pleasant kind. She was hesitant.

“I’ll invite Yoongi over, and we’ll rent new movies to watch together,” I said to fill the silence. “So… What are your plans?”

“Well, I have a date tonight. Until then, I’ll go shopping and maybe do some gardening.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said, and I meant it.

“I’m gonna have to hang up now, but I’ll miss you,” she said. “Don’t have all the fun while you’re away, save some for me.”

“I’ll save you plenty of fun, bye mom.” I said and hung up. Then I dialed Yoongi’s number – from memory, which made my stomach squeeze a little.

“Hi, do you wanna come over to Taehyung’s?”

After a short period of silence, Yoongi said “Okay, I’ll be there in an hour,” and hung up.

Then I saw Taehyung watching me from the stairs. It was as if he was not judging or anything, but was literally watching, as if taking in the scenery of the house, and me inside of it.

“Morning sleepyhead,” I said. “Want toast?”

Taehyung nodded, pouting, and then flopped down onto the couch. I handed him his plate of plain toast and some chocolate spread. “There’s coffee if you want any,” I said. Taehyung only hummed in response, so I sat next to him and ate my breakfast in vicious silence until Yoongi arrived.

The three of us had to go to the studio and work for a while that afternoon, so we gathered our things and went to the company building. All of us were quite used to having security with us anywhere we went by then, but on the way to the studio, none of us uttered a word, and Taehyung and I kept exchanging looks, as if there was something we could communicate only by this way.

Up the elevators, and into the studio, we unpacked the equipment we brought from home, and Taehyung started arranging the room in a way we could all have space to sit and practice. Soon, with a coffee in his hand, Seokjin wandered in, and said hello to everyone. He must have sensed the awkwardness in the air, so he made small talk with us carelessly and played us a song he wrote the other day. 

Seokjin was a year or so older than us, and he’d been singing and playing at clubs for a couple of years by then, so he had a better understanding of what we were doing in general. And it showed, even in his confidence when walking into a room or talking about lyrics or bettering his vocals.

Yoongi looked so much more relaxed in Seokjin’s presence, too, and slowly started talking about the beat and how Seokjin could make this sound more catchy and ‘hipper’ – his words – and the feeling was visibly mutual because Seokjin seemed to open up even more with Yoongi’s interest in his work.

As they chatted, I took out the cassette Taehyung lent me, and shot Taehyung a look. Taehyung nodded in agreement. Taehyung put the cassette on, we all listened, and started talking about how to improve the two songs. Even Yoongi seemed to interact with me smoothly, so that made everything a bit lighter.

Months passed this way.

We spent almost all our time in 3 Violent Hill and in the studio when we weren’t at school. Most nights Yoongi would stay over, and we would all practice and talk about stuff and Taehyung would drink and Yoongi would look uncomfortable. I learned Yoongi wasn’t dating anyone, but somehow that didn’t make me feel any better about us. Taehyung seemed relieved for some reason. Yoongi thought it was because it meant we were all single and that must’ve meant something like solidarity to Taehyung. Mom was in the recording process for her new album, so we couldn’t see each other much, between all the work. But it was all okay. Except it was not.

All the moments Taehyung wasn’t seeing, I was watching him intently. I was trying to understand, until I knew I didn’t need to understand. Taehyung was easy to be attracted to and I was simply a bisexual guy. But that didn’t make anything any less special. Taehyung was gorgeous, even when he was right in the middle of puberty. He smelled amazing all the fucking time. When he slept, he seemed like he belonged to the constellations. He was kind and understanding, in that silent kind of way. Those were all part of why I fell deeper for him every passing night.

Yoongi, on the other hand, my first love, was as beautiful as always, if not more. It took everything in me and then some just to not kiss him whenever he looked at me. But it got easier, it got more silent, it didn’t beat the walls of my chest with striking pain anymore. There was still pain, but Yoongi made it easier by being my friend so beautifully I could see how unjust it would be to let him down. Yoongi needed me to be his friend as well.

After two singles that did okay but weren’t as loud as we aimed them to be, we started working on releasing the album during the summer of ‘04. The last two semesters, our schedules were crazy. We had classes every day, were studying for university entrance exams while trying to put out a whole fucking album. I was spending all my time with Taehyung, Yoongi, and Seokjin, and that was fine, but it meant that I had to suppress my feelings for the two of them every second of every day. Which was fine, as long as I got to be their friend, I tried to think.

Around march, before Yoongi’s mind blowing 18th birthday party, we shot promotion pictures and the album cover. Of course, since this only involved Taehyung and Seokjin, one would assume I got to relax, but it was the opposite. Embracing the manager role meant for me - and shockingly Yoongi, who also stepped in the role willingly - that there was no rest until we got everything in order, which meant we never got any decent rest. There was always something to fix, something to work on, something to look over.

One night in May, Seokjin and Yoongi were staying over at 3 Violet Hill, and Taehyung and I had prepared a cake to celebrate the album release. Reading a book in bed late at night, I didn’t see Taehyung approaching. “They are…” Taehyung said, and then stopped to look at me. His face looked like he was gonna be sick. I put a bookmark in the pages, and stopped to pay attention. There were noises that were coming from downstairs that I hadn’t caught before. They were almost nonexistent, unless you really paid attention. Seokjin and Yoongi were having sex, of some sort.

Taehyung took his place in bed next to me. We sat in silence, uncomfortably, for some time.

Well, I said, that’s swell.

Searching for something in my expression, Taehyung looked at me for a while. I’m sorry, he said. He actually sounded sorry.

Then he cleared his throat. “Did you, um, did you have - have sex… before?”

Suddenly, there was a shooting pain in my eye. I breathed in a little too loudly. “Uh, yeah… Yes.”

“With him?”

“Him?” I asked.

“Yoongi,” Taehyung said.

I nodded. Taehyung turned to look at the walls of his room. Just when I thought it was over, Taehyung asked, “Was it good?”

For the second time, I inhaled loudly. “It was, it was… Awkward at first, but good.” I stopped to think about how it really was. Yoongi was sweet, and hot, and all I could remember was thinking oh god I am having sex with Yoongi . And what’s more was Yoongi was beautiful and careful and he was everything I could ask for. My chest hurt with the realization that I was still longing for him. “Yoongi knew more than I did, so that helped a lot.” I said flatly.

“Oh,” Taehyung said, his voice almost gone, and returned his gaze to the wall.

It all felt too awkward at once. I was in Taehyung’s bed. That wasn’t what good friends did, now, was it? I’d never seen any other friends do it. Yoongi and I hadn’t done it ever since we had broken up, but well… That was a different case. Maybe you could sleep with your friend once or twice, and that was fine, but we did it almost all the time. 

Especially for me, it got weirder when a part of our bodies touched, even for a couple of seconds. What were we doing, sleeping together? Of course I would fall worse and deeper, there was no other way to it while we were living like this. I couldn’t separate any bone of mine from Taehyung’s, not anymore.

I started mumbling the bridge of a song from the album.

I see, I see, I see, I see, oh, I do

I undo 

Your eyes

Never to wander

Away again

Away, away again

Taehyung smiled, and kept singing whisperingly. I see, I see, I see, I see, ohhh, I dooo…

We talked for a while, about the album, about the excitement, and our dreams, and frustrations. “Everything will change soon,” I said. There was this knot in the middle of my being that felt like if I tried to untie, I would only end up more tangled up in it. “I know,” Taehyung replied, his voice coming out low and sleepy. His eyes were open, focused on the pillowcase as if frozen. I rested my elbow on the pillow and my cheek in my palm. Taehyung then continued, “But it’s okay I think, that things are starting to change. I don’t want to be stuck in high school.”

I shrugged. “Will we still be friends… when we’re off to college?”

Taehyung’s eyes found mine so fast. “Obviously?” He said. “What did you think was gonna happen? I’m not doing any music without you.”

“Your manager?” I asked with a sarcastic smile.

Closing his eyes, “My best friend,” Taehyung replied, warmly.

***

“Mind your drinking,” I fixed the stray hair that fell on Taehyung’s forehead. I was speaking to all three of my friends. “This might be a graduation party but there will be lots of recording and I don’t want people to be talking about us.” Taehyung’s eyebrows were raised almost instantly, but he didn’t argue. “Also, keep it in your pants, all of you. Now go off and have fun.” I kissed Seokjin on the cheek and hugged Yoongi, and we all walked in the door.

The place looked like a European palace, with high ceilings, expensive chandeliers, and gorgeous lighting. Taehyung and I walked in, arms linked, both of us fidgeting with nervousness. Everyone was there with their partners but the two of us hadn’t had a chance to invite anyone, so Taehyung and I just decided to go together. Which was, again, every bit awkward all things considered. Taehyung too came from a rich family, and he wasn’t like me, bullied or having his name dragged through mud for being queer. It would be so easy for him to find a date, wouldn’t it? Everybody would want him. Everybody would drop any other date the second Taehyung asked them out. Why did he not, then?

We walked over to an empty table that we could find. Taehyung offered me appetizers but I wasn’t hungry at all. The music was nice, they were playing a song from this new band, Paramore . I slapped Taehyung’s hand as he reached for the punch. “Don't you dare.” 

Someone from our P.E class came to congratulate us on the album, but the rest of the people were silently judging, from afar. Not that I minded. That was better than being picked at wherever I went. People were mostly focused on the outfits, who-brought-who, and how they all had ‘such fun’ during high school. Sounded about right. When you were the dickhead, you didn’t have much to ruin your whole high school experience.

Pointing at some girl kissing somebody else, “Isn’t that Yoongi’s friend?” Taehyung asked. I shrugged. I had a lot on my plate as it was, what with Yoongi making out with Seokjin every chance he had, having to constantly pretend I wasn’t head over heels for Taehyung, and dealing with the album promotions. I couldn’t care less about anyone else.

The buzz around the album was strange. People were talking about us, more than they ever did. The thing was, I hadn’t really considered how this would affect me personally. What I was thinking the whole time was I was gonna help Taehyung become a rockstar, and I was gonna help him break free from his family. Now he and Seokjin were in the spotlight, and even Yoongi’s name and mine were mentioned constantly, our pictures posted on newspapers and the internet. Our lives were being picked apart to figure out exactly what we were. I wasn’t gonna give them what they wanted. Not if I could help.

That was why my first priority had become to protect Taehyung, no matter what.

At some point, Seokjin was over at some table talking to people, and Yoongi approached our table. “Why do the two of you look like you’ve got a joint stick up your asses?”

Taehyung almost turned purple from embarrassment, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you dancing or drinking?”

Taehyung threw a look at me that was supposed to be blaming me in an angry way, but instead he looked ridiculous. He’s been lying, I thought. Taehyung’s been drinking the whole time and he’s pretending to stop because I asked him to.

“I’m gonna go to the restroom,” he said, his voice utterly annoyed.

“Me too,” Yoongi followed him, his drink still in his hand.

I stood there, feeling out of place.

***

Taehyung threw the toilet cubicle door open, and went in. Yoongi was outside, hip resting against the countertop of the vanity. Taking out his flask from the inner pocket of his jacket, Taehyung sipped on his weird smelling drink. He put the flask back and flushed the toilet.

He went straight to wash his hands. It was silent and empty inside the restroom. Yoongi handed him the drink and went in to pee. Taehyung waited patiently, and thought, thought, thought with a strange tightness in his chest. What if I just do it, he thought. How wrong could it go?

Yoongi came out of the cubicle, washed his hands, eyes watching Taehyung’s reflection in the mirror. “Ready to go?” Yoongi asked, and turned to him. Taehyung’s mind froze, watching Yoongi’s lips, but he spoke without even knowing.

“Actually…” Taehyung said, and leaned in to Yoongi’s face.

Grabbing the glass of drink in Taehyung’s hand and leaning back, “Kiss me when you’re sober,” Yoongi said and left.

Chapter Text

The fabric of Taehyung’s shirt had been stained around the edge, and he didn’t seem to know when that happened exactly, but let Yoongi know it was stained all the same. Furious with his carelessness, Yoongi sat right beside him in an effort to try and fold the neckline in a way that would hide the stain away. This bit of movement did not exactly gather the friendliest of attention, especially from Taehyung’s mother.

“Do you want any more bread?” I asked to keep the conversation going, but the air in the dining room was dead tense. The whole family was vicious with their silence. The dinners in Kim Mansion hadn’t changed much, not in my and Taehyung’s presence anyway. Even my mom, Rin, had given up her efforts in getting them to be civil and talk about stuff that didn’t start an instant fire in the middle of the dinner table. I hadn’t.

Yoongi was mostly intimidated by the stuff hanging on the walls, I sensed, by the religious stuff, the absence of anything that resembled joy or character or tokens of the lives a family would normally have shared. Nothing was living up to ‘normal’ in this mansion, not that I was fond of the ideal that was ‘normal’, but it was as if the disarray was a breathing creature that sat there and ate with us, fed with the silence and contempt for one another. Taehyung’s dad hadn’t even looked in the direction of his son for the entire evening from the moment we stepped into the house.

Desert also didn’t make much of a conversation material, and Seokjin was the only one to comment on how good it tasted, thanking Taehyung’s mom, yet he looked quite suffocated sitting there. At last, after the silence for a prayer, Mr. Kim stood up from the head of the table, and spoke only to his wife, “I’ll be returning to my study.”

In his absence, Taehyung’s mother apologized for the uncomfortable air in the room. She asked how we were all doing, and I watched my mom make conversation with her. Our mothers shared worldviews too different from each other that there was no way of mending their lives together quite well, not even as friends. Taehyung’s parents stood against everything that Jeon Rin was, and everything that she believed and voiced and represented. Mom still reached out to talk to her sometimes, for she believed Taehyung’s mom needed support under the crushing pressure of her husband. I knew that my mom believed if she could talk to Taehyung’s mother and they had a steady communication, she could help Taehyung, even if not his parents.

Dinner ended, and mom went to the living room with Taehyung’s mom, Saera, so we went upstairs. Taehyung took us to his room. It was certainly big, and there was a bed too, so technically it was a bedroom. But other than that, and the out-of-character clothes in the wardrobe, there was no sign of Taehyung ever having lived in the room.

Taehyung went and sat on the edge of the bed, so we too followed him. There was not much to look at, really, only the bed, the empty desk, and his wardrobe. “I tried turning this into a real bedroom once, with posters and books and guitars and CDs. I even bought some clothes that actually looked like they belonged to me, only for them to all end up thrown in the trash by my mom,” he said. “What a waste, being yourself.”

It looked a lot like Taehyung was grieving something I didn’t know the name of. Was there even a cure, I couldn’t know yet, but was determined to find one even if it didn’t exist yet.

“Don’t you say that,” Yoongi said. “You will find a way.”

“Yeah,” said Seokjin. “If there’s anyone who’s gonna be themselves, that’s you. You’re beautiful and strong.” Then he did something none of us were quite brave enough to do yet up until then, he hugged Taehyung, then he pulled us all into the hug. This was perhaps the one moment that truly started the story of us.

“And if she doesn’t let you move out,” I said, “then we’ll just have to kidnap you.” The three of them burst into laughter.

Downstairs, Taehyung’s mother was sitting across mine, looking frustrated but somehow lost too. As soon as Rin caught sight of us, she stood up and took her bag. “I think you should really consider this before making any decision. Give me a call when you have an answer.”

Saera escorted all of us through the entree and the servant handed us our coats. The last words Saera spoke were, “Thank you for taking care of him.” Taehyung looked broken.

Mom insisted that they stay over, and Seokjin and Yoongi couldn’t really say no, not to her. They called their families while we arranged their beds. We gave the spare bedroom on my bedroom floor to Seokjin and Yoongi. Taehyung offered to sleep on the couch in the living room, but I didn’t let him.

Taehyung stepped in my bedroom, and for once it was the other way around. He took in the room for what it was, for I had changed what once was a sophisticatedly decorated room into a pride parade where every parader was a bookworm. His smile was generous for the mess it was, for the mess I was, but it was genuine all the same.

I turned around and let him change while he made fun of me for turning around every time he changed after all the time we spent together. I couldn’t tell him it was for my comfort, so I waited patiently till he was in my Bowie t-shirt and guinea pig pajamas. “So very fashionable,” he said and jumped on the bed.

I put on an Oasis album and slid under the covers, sat next to him. In the dim light, Taehyung looked pale and indecisive, as if he wanted to do something but wasn’t sure of it. I waited for him for a while, and then I spoke.

“How do we-”

But Taehyung spoke too. “I found out-”

We laughed awkwardly. He was playing with the hem of the Bowie t-shirt, and looked nervous in an out-of-character way. He didn’t speak a lot, sure, but he usually seemed to have an easier time being open with me than others. This time, though, he looked like he wanted to throw the covers away and jump out the window.

Then he said, “My uni letters came in.” His eyes looked fiery. I sat up, reaching out to him. “What the– what is it? Which uni? Did you get in?”

“I got into Yonsei, Hanyang, Sungkyunkwan, and Konkuk. Still waiting on SNU.”

“But that’s amazing! You already got into a SKY uni!” I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. Without even realizing, I pulled Taehyung into a hug. “You’re gonna do amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said, and pulled me down to sleep in his arms. I couldn’t protest.

Everything was changing.

The morning came, and right when we were about to start digging in our hotteoks with syrup and chocolate, the mail carrier arrived. I barely put on my converses and ran to the mailbox. There were six huge envelopes, one for Taehyung and the others for me. I rushed to the kitchen and waved them to the others, and we all gathered around the kitchen table. My mom took out the letter opener and as all of us held our breaths, Taehyung and I opened them one by one.

The first one was Yonsei. I hadn’t gotten in. Hanyang was a failure, too. Taehyung and I shared a look. We both knew that this meant we all crossed Yonsei and Hanyang off of our lists.

Both Taehyung and I were accepted into SNU. I was accepted into Sungkyunkwan and Konkuk. Yoongi and Seokjin congratulated us, and they raised their orange juice glasses to us. Mom said it was the universities’ loss, because we had other great options.

When we’d first talked about applying for the same schools so we could be together, I hadn’t really seen this coming.

“Hey,” Taehyung said that night after we played at a bar and went home. We were gathered on my bed, all fresh from the shower and in our pajamas, a Coctaeu Twins record was on. “Are you upset about Yonsei and Hanyang?”

“Just a bit. I’m upset that they’re off our lists now. You guys could’ve chosen those.”

“We don’t want any place that doesn’t want you,” said Seokjin. I couldn’t help but smile. His hair was in his face, and he looked a little pink from the shower, and his skin was glowing from his moisturizer. I pretended not to see the hickeys across his neck.

“Then what do you think we should do?” I asked.

“SNU?” Yoongi suggested. “It’s a pretty good school, don’t you think? I know we said we should all go together, but I don’t want you guys to give up on SNU just because the two of us couldn’t get into those.”

“Yeah, but I kinda thought…” Everyone turned to look at Seokjin, who was looking at his fingers rather than at us. “Konkuk’s also nice,” He was pouting. That was his thing, and it always looked so cute that we always caved in pretty easily. “Especially since both Jungkook and I are looking for a uni with a good department of film. SNU doesn’t have that.”

“Sungkyunkwan’s film department is said to be good,” Yoongi said. “I can’t do a dual degree there like I wanted, but that’s okay.”

We sat in silence for a while.

“Well, we knew it wouldn’t be easy to accommodate,” Taehyung said. “We still have options. Just– let me get my list.” He took out a purple notebook with all kinds of paper and sticky notes peeking out of it.

“We crossed off SNU, no film department. Yonsei and Hanyang are gone too. So, we have Konkuk and Sungkyunkwan. And also PNU is gone, they don’t have film studies, plus, who the fuck wants to study in Busan anyway?” Everyone laughed for a second.

“Are you really sure you want to sacrifice the stuff you wanted for this?” Seokjin asked, it was for all of us to answer.

“I think we should be together,” Taehyung said. We all nodded. “It’s gonna be cheesy, but…” He visibly gulped. “I don’t want us to be separated for four fucking years. We have fun together, we get through shit together. We have the band. It’s all too good to lose.”

“Your parents are gonna go crazy when they hear you rejected SNU to go to some other place,” said Yoongi, but his eyes looked like he was somehow testing Taehyung in some way.

“Good,” said Taehyung. “As long as they pay my tuition, I honestly don’t give a fuck about how disappointed they are.”

The next day, I woke everybody up with a Metallica song. Yoongi came stumbling into the kitchen with his shirt back to front, eyes barely open and hair a mess, shouting “What the hell?”

Our schedule was packed that day. Taehyung hardly ate anything for breakfast, and he was sleeping on the way to the studio and through makeup and hair. After getting his hair and makeup done and his hickeys covered, Seokjin was practicing his lines for the performance in the waiting room. Yoongi and I were making sure they were ready to go, and the schedule was going smoothly. Taehyung finally fully woke up, and he and Seokjin started playing a game with water bottles while Yoongi and I were getting our makeup and hair done.

We went through a list of possible questions and rehearsed our answers. It was not the most prestigious show, but it was still an important interview where we could promote the album and the band. Yoongi and I had worked our asses off trying to get it, talked to a billion people, using every connection possible. This was our first chance to appear on TV on our own terms and talk about the band, and for Taehyung and Seokjin to show the world what their music meant to them. Performing at halls and bars were okay, but what we had in mind for this band was much bigger and more beautiful.

The mics and the lights were set. Taehyung and Seokjin sat on their chairs, and the host chatted with them for a while before the recording. Then someone from the show’s team came looking for us, and they asked us to sit behind Taehyung and Seokjin. Yoongi looked at me for a minute, and we both hesitated. Then we asked them to give us a minute to talk about this.

At first, I thought it was better for them to have the spotlight on their own. As much as we were friends, this was their band, and we were only the managers, and that was it. That was our job. But Yoongi thought it could be better to show the world that we worked as a team, and had a united understanding of what we wanted for the band. That we worked together. Team bond, he called it. Like family.

“Do you think it’s the right call?” asked Yoongi.

“I trust you,” I said, without hesitating. He looked me in the eye, with love and pain and trust.

We went back and discussed the matter with Seokjin and Taehyung, and they agreed with the idea of team bond. We got our own mics and chairs. Soon, things started to go downhill.

The first few questions were fine. They were about the music, how the band got together, what we had planned for our futures. Then, and it shouldn’t have really come as a surprise but, the host started asking questions about me. Well, specifically my sexuality. Did I date any girls? “No, not yet anyway,” I said with a smile.

“Then how do you know you’re not just plain gay?”

I could see all three of my friends getting tense in their seats.

“Of everyone in the world, I should know, don’t you think?” I was frozen and sweating under the laid back front I was keeping up.

“There are also rumors of you and Yoongi dating,” said the host with a wonky, insinuating smile.

“Why are you asking such personal questions?” Seokjin interrupted.

“Are you asking about my sexuality?” Yoongi asked, rather calmly.

The host hesitated, but then went, “Sure.”

“Why?” Yoongi asked, and smiled. We all laughed between ourselves. The host looked a little pale and quickly changed the subject.

I could hardly breathe.

***

“4QUEERS – HOW JEON J. RUINED THE ROCK BAND WITH HIS SEXUALITY”

“UNVEILING JEON JUNGKOOK”

“JEON, JR ON PAST BOYFRIENDS”

“CELEBRITY LIVES OF PARENTS RUINS CHILDREN – THE JEON PRINCE IS THE CLEAREST EXAMPLE”

“JEON JUNGKOOK CALLS OUT INTERVIEWER FOR HOMOPHOBIC REMARKS”

“WE DOUBT 4PEOPLE IS GOING SOMEWHERE”

“MANAGER MIN YOONGI REVEALS 4PEOPLE’S TAKE ON FRIENDSHIP”

At 3 Violet Hill, Taehyung almost slapped the magazines and newspapers on the table.

“This– I’m gonna fucking kill them,” he said, and his voice and the fire in his eyes showed he was not joking. Not one bit.

I settled on the couch and reached for him to make him sit. Taehyung was so angry that he ended up pushing my hand away. “They can’t do this to you, Jungkook. I’m serious. I know you say we do these interviews for our own good, but every time we actually go on an interview, on a show or something, they bombard you with these stupid questions. They don’t see how good a manager or a friend you are, they only care that you kiss boys. You shouldn’t have to put up with this!”

I crossed my arms and leaned back. This was the second time I’d seen Taehyung be so open and angry about this topic. “But that’s what I choose to do. I put up with it. Because I have a voice, unlike many. I can’t conform to what makes heterosexuals comfortable.”

“That doesn’t have to mean you should be the public enemy because of your identity,” Taehyung mumbled softly. “You’re still– you’re still just a kid. God!”

“The public has been talking about my big nose and my antisocial behaviors and my every move since I learned how to walk. I’m just channeling this into making people realize – I don’t know. That I’m here. That I don’t plan to go away. That they’re not alone.” I was gonna grow up in front of these cameras whether I liked it or not. So I was gonna use that to speak up.

“I’m sorry that the band gets bitten in the ass every time because of me. It must be really annoying.”

Taehyung stood in front of me between my legs, pulled me in a hug and said “Shut up,” while laughing.

“Seriously though, it must be hard to have these questions thrown onto you when you’re just trying to make music. I’m sorry that I made it harder. I shouldn’t have participated in that interview from the very beginning.”

Taehyung pulled away and looked into my eyes, startled. “Don’t you say those words. You’re everything that keeps us right. I’m sorry that you had to hear that hurtful, rude stuff.”

I hugged him, and wished that it would always be like this between us. I wished that we would always have each other’s back.

***

Everything that happened, everything that we felt, they drove us to make another album.

The second album was gonna be even more raw, louder but more simple. It was gonna be about our secrets. The ones we kept alone, the darkest ones. The ones that required us to live someone else’s lives, and the utter depression that that caused us. The secrets that we kept together. The ones we shared in whispers one lonely night. The sole intimacy of having every secret of yours buried in the other’s chest, away from everyone else. Your lives were so entangled they couldn’t really be undone anymore. Everywhere you looked, they were there, with you, with your secrets in their chest, and theirs in yours, crowding every breath. You had put that person there, you revealed your soul to them, with the brightest and the darkest, and everything in between. You couldn’t be with them, now. But you couldn’t fall apart too. You never regretted them, but your soul was wrung out.

All of us spent every second left from performances to writing the new album at 3 Violet Hill. We had all the equipment installed, and we went away on the weekends to get inspiration and write in nature. Seokjin found a beach house far away from the city, and Taehyung drove us there every time we needed to get away.

Things weren’t quite good in Kim mansion, unsurprisingly. Taehyung’s dad argued with him every time he stepped in the house, about the band, about him moving out and doing whatever he wanted, about the interview. About Taehyung being friends with me and not obeying the rules of their cult. They grounded him, he climbed out the window to come and spent the night with me.

Everyone who spent 10 minutes with Taehyung could see that he was not religious at all, not even a believer in god, but his own parents insisted on him being one. Taehyung always said there was no changing them, so instead of fighting, he stayed away. This drove them mad all the same. Taehyung believed he had to tolerate this until he turned 18 and his trust fund kicked in. Then, he could pay his tuition and keep making music to his heart’s desire.

Hypothetically, it sounded true, but we all knew his dad well enough to know he’d do everything in his power to keep Taehyung from doing just that.

The crackling fire’s light was dancing all around us. Seokjin had his acoustic guitar out, softly playing the few parts that we had come up with, and Taehyung and Yoongi were busy going through the lyrics on Yoongi’s notepad. Yoongi looked up from the notepad and for a second, held his gaze on the fire, then said “I know exactly what we should do.”

“About?”

“About the interview, the magazine, the headlines.”

We sat in silence and let him breathe and gather his words. Yoongi left the notepad on Taehyung’s lap, and ran his hands through his hair before he spoke.

“You can always spin stuff around and make it work for yourself, right?” He stopped, so I nodded to let him continue. “We should use this and benefit from it for our own narrative. They called us slurs, was it– was it queer? ‘4queers’. It might be a long shot, but– I’m thinking of a campaign, like, we promote charities for the LGBT community, we play for charities, we raise money, and the name is right there. We have a chance to make this right, at least for ourselves. I don’t care what they have to say about us, I care about what we have to say.”

“We could actually do a lot of good with this,” Seokjin said in a proud smile.

The fire kept on crackling, the waves kept crashing the shore, and we discussed the details for an hour or so. After everyone was tired of the planning, I brought everyone a round of beers from the kitchen, and kept Taehyung right next to me. Taehyung had my jacket on his shoulders, holding onto it tightly, and they were singing a stupid song so happily that I wished everything would stay the same, right at that moment, knowing damn well it wouldn’t. But I would always remember them in the salt and the moss of the breeze, in the mumbling waves, in the way the sand under our feet seemed to welcome us with compassion.

***

So we made it happen.

4people performed the whole album and a couple of covers of other artists for the campaign project ‘4QUEERS’, and Yoongi and I accompanied them. For one night in a concert hall in Seoul, I played drums and Yoongi played electric guitar. In the end, it wasn’t for one night– they kept insisting we go on and play with them. That it gathered more crowd, thus, more money.

Yoongi and I talked to a lot of people and checked out more venues to see where we could play, but we didn’t want to stay in South Korea anymore. We wanted this project to expand. We contacted someone from mom’s company, a guy who had ties with a big entertainment company in the UK, and that was our international opening. It was easier to get what we wanted – after the interview had blown up, everyone out there wanted to do interviews and performances with 4people. Soon, we were flying to London with our hands shaking and stupid smiles on our faces non-stop.

While we were in London, we arranged a couple of photoshoots and interviews for magazines that didn’t trash the band, as well as an album cover shoot. The next album was half-completed, but we knew what we wanted for the cover already, and the process was speeding up ever since we started working on the ‘4QUEERS’ campaign. Yoongi had written two new songs in just a few days, and the company was evaluating whether to keep them in the album.

In the new album cover, you could see the desert at night and the darkened sky behind us. Seokjin and Taehyung were in dark, silk shirts and on their knees, their makeup making their skin look pale and a little flushed in the lighting. Yoongi and I were behind them, covering their eyes, staring at them. Both of their lips were parted in a way that made it seem that they enjoyed this. Aesthetically, it was amazing.

The shooting, though, was a nightmare. Taehyung and Yoongi looked so beautiful that I had to look away from them the whole time. Taehyung’s eye makeup was glittery in bronze, complimenting his skin tone and his enchanting plum lips, and making him look mystical. Seokjin’s was golden – it dripped from his eyes to his cheek down til his exposed neck. And Yoongi, his eyes were framed in glimmering silver, his gaze even more captivating than usual. Mine was a simple maroon. We stood together in the sand, against the night breeze and followed every instruction to make it work. After half an hour, Seokjin suggested we go on our knees. We were all lined up at first, but it must have looked a little stiff, so the director played with our positions and showed us how we could pose to make this work. Nobody’s eye makeup was visible this way other than Seokjin’s, which glistened in the dimmed light as it followed a line down his face to his neck, and this added to the air of the album in general.

The album would be named ‘Ghost in Me’.

Despite all of this, we could barely spend any real time in London – the work and school schedules left us no time to wander around London mindlessly. We had to go back to Seoul and complete the album before our first semester at Sungkyunkwan started. Every day of our lives were packed until the start of the semester, which was half depressing and half relieving. It meant that I didn’t have to focus on anything other than the band and its succession. I made sure they all arrived at the studio on time, made it to the performances sober and rehearsed, finished up with their recordings with no problems, and didn’t make out in front of the audience (this one was more about Seokjin and Yoongi rather than Taehyung). The tracklist was finally sealed, the goal for the ‘4QUEERS’ campaign’s charity fund was achieved, and we were all set to leave for college.

In light of the recent interview stuff, mom and I had a lengthy talk about how I could move out and get a place of my own without risking my safety. She was of the opinion that I had to live on my own to experience college life, but insisted on me having my own team of security to make it so that I didn’t get hurt by paparazzis. I agreed to it. It took a week or so to find an apartment to live in and move out, at the end of which my mom cried for three hours straight before leaving me alone in my place.

As I had finished organizing my room and was making dinner, Taehyung dropped in in baggy clothes and a baseball cap, with a bottle of champagne and a housewarming gift – a brand new electric guitar with the letters ‘JK’ and a doodle of a house on it. 3 Violet Hill. I kissed him on the cheek and he hugged me and laughed awkwardly.

We spent the whole night drinking and listening to music. The curtains were drawn tight, the lights were low, we were singing our hearts out. You’re The One That I Want came on, Taehyung got on the coffee table and started dancing. I told him I’d kill him if he broke my coffee table, but Teahyung didn’t really listen. He rarely did. Instead, he tried to pull me up on the coffee table too, for me to dance with him, he said. Holding him by the hand, I dragged him closer and he fell in my arms, wrapping his legs around me, laughing in joy like this was what he intended all along.

“Okay, no more alcohol for you,” I tried to get him to stand on his own feet, but he wouldn’t let me go. “Hey, if you don’t get off of me, we’re gonna fall down.” He finally let go and landed on his feet, but this time he had his arms wrapped around my neck.

I gave in and held him in my arms.

Fade Into You came on Taehyung’s mixtape, and I smiled in a heavy inhale. Taehyung was suddenly so silent he could be asleep. I kept him there, in my arms, his heart and breath slowing down. I brushed the lock of hair off his face, and softly caressed his hair. “Let’s get you to bed, hm,” I whispered in his ear, and helped him wrap his legs around me a second time. When I left him on the bed, he didn’t protest, which meant he was almost asleep. I propped him up just a bit to take off his t-shirt so he could sleep more comfortably.

I brushed my teeth, put on my pajamas, and when I returned, Taehyung was lying on his side, staring at the space on the pillow next to his. I lied next to him. His lips were in that curl, the one that he had when he was unhappy or scared of something, when he wanted something out of his control.

“Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me college won’t change things between us. You won’t get new friends and forget me. We’ll always be closest. If I lose you, I swear I’d die. I’m not even joking.”

“I think we will have to get new friends, baby,” I said, smiling. “But you won’t lose me. Ever.”

“No one closer than us,” Taehyung whispered as if begging.

“No one closer than us,” I whispered back.

***

It was expected that two semesters in New York away from everyone would be difficult, but nothing could prepare me for Taehyung crying softly everytime we talked on the phone saying he really missed me.

The thing was, I missed him a lot too. I missed sleeping with him in his apartment, I missed the sleepovers in 3 Violet Hill, singing the whole drive there, I missed staying up all night with Seokjin and Yoongi and Taehyung in the studio, braindead from caffeine and work. Some nights I could manage sleeping next to somebody I had met in the city, at the bars or the libraries, but some were not so good. Schoolwork was keeping me busy enough that I could focus on my time there, but not busy enough to keep me from getting drunk and calling Taehyung or Yoongi from wherever I was and ranting about how much I wanted to be with them back in Seoul. It was especially bad knowing that they were having a hard time too, but were tolerating it only because this was my choice and they wanted to be supportive of me.

Then I’d met somebody there, Darragh. He was a med student, was tall and funny, and so handsome I’d almost choked on my coffee the first time I ever saw him. I learned ASL so I could sign to Darragh better. He’d come over to my place and we’d spend our time in bed, reading, making out, watching documentaries. Taehyung and Yoongi were wary of him, but I enjoyed his company. Darragh helped me adjust and study properly, got me out of my shell, and made me feel safe, and I kept him warm and peaceful. The NDA was there, obviously, but Darragh made me feel like this thing of immediate privacy was dear to him, and not a burden, and I enjoyed the feeling. He appreciated what we had. He almost worshiped the ground I walked on. It was nice, being on the receiving end of this different kind of attention and to give away my affection so freely.

And despite all of these, I missed Yoongi and Taehyung so much every fucking day I thought I’d die.

I’d keep thinking of the time when Yoongi and I were dating, and how special it felt to have him. Maybe the fact of our simple love was the foundation of it. In many ways, our bond had grown much more complicated and mature and fiery after we were broken up, and yet I felt as though if only I could touch Yoongi once more, and told him I still loved him it could be simple enough for him to choose to stay.

How I longed for the sweet smile Yoongi gave me every chance he got, and how his long hair felt against my neck. How he smelled of white flowers and cigarettes. How he was the single warmest thing I’d ever touched.

On the other hand, Taehyung… Oh god, him. He was terrible for me. He destroyed me with every call, and it took all the power in me to not get on the next flight back home just to have him in my arms, even though he wouldn’t, in a thousand billion years, love me back. He’d stare every other person in the world in the eye, but me. I’d resisted, thinking he might like me back, even just a bit. I'd waited and waited but all he did was go out with people he wouldn’t even see for a second time and pretend that that was him.

I knew better than to believe Taehyung was so shallow as to use people and move on with his life so easily. Taehyung was such a hopeless romantic, and he believed in love in the most beautiful, poetic way, and he was a damn fool for thinking I wouldn’t see through him. He loved someone – he did. But things were more complicated than he could sort through.

First of all, Taehyung loved Yoongi. Madly. Everyone could see Taehyung loved Yoongi.

The problem was, Yoongi didn’t love him back. At least not in the way Taehyung hoped for. This one I didn’t have any proof for, but Taehyung always seemed to shy away from being even slightly intimate with Yoongi. Honestly, Yoongi never made it easy either.

One time, I’d seen him tell Taehyung he needed to be honest to make meaningful music. The way he told him this was charged with so much rawness and emotion, it had me thinking what he meant by that. Taehyung was clearly aware of this tone because he could hardly keep his tears to himself.

Yoongi was as close to Taehyung as he was to me, but whatever happened between them, Taehyung didn’t seem to have the courage to make a move on him. Maybe it was the way Yoongi was so free that intimidated Taehyung. Everybody wanted him. Not everybody could have him and keep him. I couldn’t. Maybe Taehyung had seen this and was afraid of being broken.

Taehyung wasn’t exactly the most self-accepting person, and this made it worse. He was the most compassionate person, like all the times he accepted me, Seokjin, and Yoongi for who we were without needing explanations, without reasoning, just because he was that kind of a person. But when it came to himself… He pretended to be heterosexual, even to us, and for the love of god, if I hadn’t seen the way he stared at Yoongi’s lips I’d fall for his lie. It would take time for Taehyung to embrace his identity, whatever it was. But he was yet to take the leap and fully step into acceptance. He was going back and forth between denial, anger, and depression, and most times ending up with a mixture of them.

Seokjin and Yoongi had never really dated, but their sleeping together was only the start of the affairs Yoongi had with multiple people simultaneously. Among us, Yoongi was the one who was the most open and easygoing, but he didn’t really talk to us about this aspect of his life. I always assumed he didn’t want to hurt me any further, given our history, but that was the end of my vision of it. I wanted to think I didn’t want to hear about it and leave it there, but I was hungry for even the slightest mention of what Yoongi was feeling.

The months dragged on and on.

When it all came to an end, I called Taehyung on my cell phone and he told me he’d pick me up from the airport. The plan was simple: Meet at the airport. Buy tons of drinks. Go to my apartment. Get very drunk. Do karaoke the whole night. Watch a bad movie and cry at the most unrelated scenes. Eat takeout food to soak up the alcohol. Fall asleep on the floor after dawn.

And there he stood with his bodyguards, Sahra and Limmy, and the most horrifyingly sweet banner I’ve ever seen, reading I AM THE HAPPIEST CREATURE IN THE WORLD. PERHAPS OTHER PEOPLE HAVE SAID SO BEFORE, BUT NO ONE WITH SUCH JUSTICE.

I ran into Taehyung’s arms without being able to contain my laughter. “You did not just quote Jane Austen to me, you dumbass!” There were people around, and god knows the banner and our pictures would end up everywhere, but for a moment nothing in the world mattered to me as much as holding him in my arms again, his scent burning my lungs, the sound of his laugh so vibrant in my ears.

Taehyung didn’t let me go for quite a long minute, and whispered to my neck, “I am so happy, so, so happy.”

Yoongi was nervously running towards us. “Did I make it in time? Oh god, Taehyung, step aside – oh. I fucking missed your face.” He pulled me in a hug, and everything felt right at that moment. No tears, no regrets, nothing lost even with almost nine months apart. He picked me up and spun me around in his arms.

We were in the backseat, Yoongi under one arm and Taehyung the other, both leaning on my chest and talking to me about the things I’d missed while I was gone. Now that I was back, they didn’t feel as guilty for sharing, I could see. Yoongi’s hand softly wandered around my body, my face, and it felt so soothing and yet alarming. When I met his eyes, he looked so smitten. Through my confusion, I left a peck on the crown of his head.

We stopped by a supermarket and Sahra bought drinks and snacks. Taehyung opted for wine, Yoongi wanted gin. I asked for some fruit soju, some tequila and rum. As soon as Sahra returned with the bags, we drove home.

The first thing I thought was my apartment had changed while I was gone. I should’ve expected that. As Taehyung told me, he and the others had spent time there even while I was gone, but I could tell that there was more than that. They’d stayed over, used my bed, worn my clothes. There was a pile of clean laundry on the edge of the bed, wine glasses on the dish rack, but most importantly, my place smelled like them. And a little bit of cigarettes. I had to hold Taehyung’s hand tight to keep myself from crying.

While I took a shower and changed into clean clothes, they prepared snacks and drinks, and chose karaoke music.

Expensive gin. Fast and frequent shots of fruit soju. Triple love shot, and laughter all over. We got very drunk. We did karaoke to David Bowie, 4 Non Blondes, PJ Harvey, Pixies, Cyndi Lauper and so much more. At some point, Taehyung and Yoongi were holding each other by the waist, foreheads resting together, and dancing to Eclipse by Pink Floyd, and I was filming them with my camera phone.

The alcohol had my head spinning, but I liked it. I liked it more than anything, more than the bars in New York, more than the public displays of being the ‘normal’ young adult, more than playing spin the bottle with strangers that I could get to sign NDAs, more than dragging my secrets along whoever I ran to. This was where I belonged, wasn’t it? This was where I could bare myself without worries and I was sure to be loved, no matter what.

Half an hour later, Taehyung was playing air guitar on my coffee table, on his knees, my Ravenclaw house tie loose around his neck, screaming, “ROCK TONIGHT, AND I SAY,”

With his own air guitar, Yoongi joined in, “BZZZZZZZ!”

“ROCKET RIDE, AND I SAY BZZZZZZZ! BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY, AW, I JUST DON’T KNOW WHY!” They pretended to be on stage for a while longer, singing to each other with the ghost of a mic between them.

At 2am, we watched Shrek together for the thousandth time, Taehyung’s head and mine on Yoongi’s lap, feeding each other popcorn and drinking more rum, and cried. Then Yoongi put on Bad Reputation and we got back to dancing and singing our hearts out.

As I stood in the middle of the living room, swaying like a small boat, Taehyung walked closer, held my hands from behind and danced with me to The Boy Done Wrong Again. Comfortable on the couch, Yoongi was taking pictures of us. Taehyung wouldn’t let him stay away, so he had to come and dance too. Taehyung’s arms around my belly, Yoongi’s at my hips, I felt as though I was a body of light, dancing in the softest of colors.

Then the strangest thing happened, and even my body knew it. Taehyung let me go from the place where he pressed his lips against my shoulder. He turned me around in his arms to face him, and right when I was smiling sheepishly at him, he kissed my lips.

The silence in my brain could break my bones.

No matter how strange and unlikely I thought it was, I was quick to kiss him back, with nothing less than electricity. His one hand cupping my face, the other reaching across me over to Yoongi to bring him in. Yoongi was shy, but his hands settled on my hips right away, and he kissed the nape of my neck. I almost moaned right into Taehyung’s mouth, into his kiss. His teeth were seething red against my lips, taking what I let him have, and I’d give him everything as long as he asked.

Our three bodies soon became a river of sorts, one that had endless courses and bends, infinite amounts of possibilities merging into one body and flowing in blue altogether.

Stumbling to the bedroom, we took our clothes off one by one. The music faded away in the loudness of our touches. Each of our smiles found their ways back to kisses, and the pieces of clothing pooled around the bed. Skin on skin, Taehyung’s ankles around my back, Yoongi’s hands soft around him, and the humble, holy sounds he made. The night was stretching out over us to give more time. My heart was delirious, banging on my chest in loud whispers, remember this, remember this, remember this. This is right.

***

I woke up to the sound of someone throwing up.

I opened my eyes to Yoongi sleeping next to me, not so sound, and very naked. His hair was messed up, face a little puffy.

I put on underwear I found lying on the floor and ran to the bathroom. a naked taehyung was leaning over the toilet and breathing heavily. Before I could reach him, he started throwing up again. I sat next to him and rubbed his back, then stroked the hair on his face away, tucked it behind his ear. “Hey,” I said, hesitating. “Are you okay?”

For a while he didn’t show any sign that he was aware of my existence. His eyes were closed, his hair sticking to his forehead, his body shaking, and it made me worried that he would pass out any moment. Then he ran his hands through his sweaty hair, stood up with not much strength, and walked out of the bathroom. I followed him.

He searched the room for something. I waited patiently. Then he found it, an underwear, and I wasn't even sure it was his. He put it on in a hurry. Then he turned to face me.

“I was— I was drunk.”

I didn't know how to reply to that.

From the bed, first the sound of Yoongi waking up arose, and then himself. We were staring at each other, trying to figure out whether this was real, and Taehyung was staring vaguely at the floor.

“Can you find my clothes? I need to leave,” said Taehyung finally.

“You look like shit,” Yoongi commented, his voice was hoarse from either sleeping or all the drinking and the cigarettes. He was right. Taehyung looked like shit.

“Thanks,” Taehyung said and attempted again, his body turning to mine. “I need my clothes.”

I scoffed. “I think you need to sit down.”

“No, I need to leave.”

“Yes, you already said that.” I was getting worked up for some reason I couldn't find. But then words came out before my brain could sort them out. “Why are you avoiding my eyes? Look at me.”

He didn’t look at me.

“I think we need to speak about this.”

“I told you, I was drunk,” Taehyung crossed his arms. “That's all there is to it.”

It was Yoongi's turn to scoff. “When are you not drunk?”

“Low blow, but he’s right. Oh and also, if there’s nothing else to it, why are you running away?”

“I am not.” Taehyung exhaled loudly, and for a moment, I thought this was it. This was the end of everything I ever valued. He was gonna leave and never look back, and erase us like all the other people he spent the night with. The band was gonna fall out and go different ways. I had messed up, and I was in way over my head. I couldn't possibly make them stay now.

“Well, this was a mistake,” I said. “We were drunk and stupid. I– I cheated on Darragh.” Right then, Taehyung's eyes met mine, and I could swear I saw something broken there. I needed to reach it and soften his pain until it was gone. I just didn’t know how you could reach someone when they burned your touch before you could even get close.

“In that case, it’s better that I leave. I don’t want to get between,” He gestured at first Yoongi and then me, and said, “This.”

“Don’t you dare say that shit to me. You know this isn’t about Yoongi and me. This is about the three of us. We made this mistake together.”

“Whatever you say, Kook,” Taehyung mumbled, but he couldn’t hide the weakness and exhaustion in his voice.

I searched the bedroom floor for his clothes, and piled them into a ball and threw them at him. The hangover must’ve ruined his reflexes, he could barely catch them.

“If you’re gonna do this, get the fuck out of my house. This is not how we handle things. Until you can see that, and behave like our friend, I don’t want to see you.”

Taehyung stood there, holding his shirt.

“Go!” I yelled, and he bent over to collect his things, and left. What he left behind was the heavy lump in my throat. My eyes were itching but I didn't cry.

I called my bodyguard, Han, and told her to pick Taehyung up, leave him home. She came upstairs to my door, and I gave her Taehyung's phone and the things he left, and a plastic bag. “He might throw up in the car,” I said, then added, “Make sure he’s at the company at 1pm tomorrow for an emergency meeting.” Han nodded and left.

Back in my bedroom, Yoongi was propped up in bed, waiting for me. “You can go back to sleep,” I said. “I'll make breakfast when you feel like eating.”

“I'm sorry,” Yoongi said.

It took me a great deal of strength to swallow, and then I went to sit next to him on the bed. “It's not your fault.” I kissed him on the forehead and patted the pillow. “Here. you should rest.”

Yoongi reached out for my hand, and he squeezed it and stroked my skin with his thumb until he fell asleep.

I was making a fresh pot of coffee when I felt it. I ran to the bathroom. A small, wincing tingle in my lungs. The hurt rising from inside. Hardly breathing, I leaned over the toilet, and threw up. It took so much strength for some reason.

I opened my eyes to see blood in the toilet, and small petals washed red with it.

Chapter Text

We sat cross legged on the Turkish rug and watched TV in silence. Strong coffee, scrambled eggs, watermelon, and feta cheese. Yoongi muted the TV, turned to me, and said, “Did you, um, not enjoy it?”

The moment I realized he was talking about the sex, I was frozen. My eyes wandered the room before landing on Yoongi’s cheeks. “I did, uh, as far as I can remember? But we were really drunk, Yoongi,” I met his eyes, the clearest, warmest brown I’d ever seen. “I’m only thankful that at least one of us remembered to wear a condom. Most of it is… a haze. I just remember being happy, like, really happy.”

Yoongi grimaced, then reached for my hand. He brought it into his palm and stroked the skin of my pinky finger where I’d burnt a couple of years ago while making French fries at 3 Violet Hill. The scar still lingered, of a happy memory, of a home so genuine yet far away at this moment in time.

His eyelashes laid in their full length there, draping over the depth of his eyes. The curl in Yoongi’s lips looked a lot like concern, not in its usual serenity, the playfulness gone and with it the tiny thing that ensured me that everything would be okay. I wanted to touch it, fish in his skin and bring back that bit, or shake Yoongi and ask if it’s gonna be okay, if I’m gonna lose him.

“I wish it happened differently,” Yoongi said finally. “I didn’t– I wouldn’t think it’d happen this way. Not drunk, not some mistake, not yelling at each other in the end. It was supposed to be special, wasn’t it? We were finally… there.”

“Except we weren’t,” I let his hand go and went back to picking at my food. The absence of our skin contact left Yoongi visibly uncomfortable. The worry in his brows was strengthened by his skin going paler and paler with each passing moment. “Didn’t you see the way Taehyung reacted to- to us? I’m drunk, this was a mistake, I need to leave… I feel like a nobody he met downtown and went home with just to spite the world.”

“Hey, stop that. Taehyung would never in a million years see you that way,” He sounded so, so vulnerable, and yet so determined in his judgment. My eyes met his, and they were colored golden by the sunlight seeping through the curtains. “And Jungkook, you were the one who said it was a mistake.”

“Was I wrong, though?”

“It’s more complicated than that. You of all people should see that, really.”

“What does that fucking mean?” If it wasn’t Yoongi, I could’ve yelled and screamed instead of the silent, wrathful whisper I let out.

Yoongi downed the rest of his coffee. He said “Nothing. It means nothing,” flatly.

***

Gathered around the cherry wood table, all of us were waiting for Taehyung to arrive. Yoora, my assistant, had been stressed about the meeting – she was past the point of pretending, and was chewing on her painted nails, fixing her already creased shirt every few minutes, checking her watch. A sleepy Seokjin was trying to reassure her that everything would go okay. She didn’t seem to believe the words Seokjin said, even though she didn’t know the reason I’d called everyone there.

Of course, in her limited time working with me and the band, she hadn’t gotten to know Taehyung as close as I did. I knew Taehyung would show up, even if just to spite me.

I just didn’t know how he would.

A washed-up Taehyung entered the room, without a word of apology, and stood at the end of the table. It was painfully obvious that he was drunk. His hands were in the pockets of his leather jacket, his baseball cap hardly covering the makeup smeared over his face and hair sticking to all that mess. A nude see-through dress was wrapped around his body, paired with heeled boots and distant, venomous eyes. If I didn’t know him better, I’d assume he was looking in the eyes of his worst enemy, yet they were mine.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me,” he said.

I couldn’t help myself laugh at the way his voice was coming out. Of course he’d run off to drink –more. Maybe even fuck strangers to wash off the memories of us . If the wasted state of him even had those memories, that is.

I stood up to balance the power between us. “That was personal, and this is business. Why don’t you sit and we’ll start the meeting.”

"Business," he said under his breath, then took the seat right next to Yoongi, who was avoiding both of our eyes. Yoora handed out the folders of paperwork with an uncomfortable sigh, and for the next few minutes, everyone looked through them.

“You’re not seriously having us sign a fucking NDA?” Taehyung threw the papers across the table. I rubbed my hand against my chest where I suddenly felt it tighten, having trouble breathing.

“Of course I am,” I said, sounding calm nevertheless. “This is so I can protect you. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Choi?”

“You mean yourself?” Taehyung snapped before his lawyer could even get a chance. “Piss off, Kook. Genuinely.”

I ordered everyone to get out of the room. The employees and lawyers all took a last frightened look at my face before leaving.

“You sit in your fucking chair and listen to me. Do you think I enjoy doing this, signing a paper to keep this a secret? I would like to trust you, believe me, sweetheart, in this fucking moment that’s my only desperate wish. But your behavior is not trustworthy, drinking like this, disappearing on us like this…” Taehyung’s posture and eyebrows got meaner and meaner as I talked. “I didn’t give everything up and become your manager just to watch this band fall apart with a scandal.”

“I admit, it’s a bit heartless to-”

Taehyung cut off Seokjin. “There you go! You’re protecting yourself, not us, because you care about what you gave up!”

“No, Taehyung, if you remember I’m the only one here whose identity is known by everyone. They know I like men. And I’m trying to protect the three of you from being accused of or targeted for anything again.”

“Oh, come off your high horse. You can’t expect there to be anything remotely resembling trust after forcing us to sign this shit.”

Yoongi finally looked me in the eye, the hues in his eyes all fragile. “It’s not like we’re gonna tell anyone.”

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem signing it,” I insisted. Yoongi blinked in hesitation, then signed the paper and left it on the table. When he left his seat, Taehyung was watching him as furiously as he looked at me before. All eyes on him, Yoongi walked through the silence, kissed me breathless on the lips and walked out.

The silence dragged on. My heart would not stop racing, both from the kiss and the anxiety of it all. In those following moments Seokjin signed his paper, then gave me a kiss on the cheek before he left the meeting room. I squeezed his hand briefly, gathering the weak shred of confidence I had left, and let go to finally face Taehyung.

His messy makeup was running dark, wet lines all the way down to his neck. The light in the meeting room cast shadows on his face, playing with his sadness as if he was on stage, grieving the death of his lost lover, forcing the audience to hold their breaths as he held onto the loss. He wiped his tears away with the back of his hands only to smudge his cheeks with more makeup. He was breathing like it took him ages to get the air out of his burning lungs. Yet I was the one with the damaged insides, the hurt still tugging at my chest.

In long strides I walked away, to the farthest point in the room from him. The choice was simple and deliberate. Taehyung didn’t try to turn to me or acknowledge what I did. I held onto the hem of my jacket, my fist weak and aimless as I held my gaze on the wooden floor, painfully aware of how badly I was freaking out.

“What are we gonna do now?” I questioned, hating how muffled I sounded. “What are we gonna make of… us?”

Taehyung sniffed. That was his way of letting me know he was thinking about my questions. More teardrops were making their way down through his dark stained cheeks. His face had become swollen from crying and all the alcohol he’d had, lips torn and trembling. “Don’t know,” he said, and sunk into his seat, his nude see-through dress not helping at all at concealing the weakness that held his body. “But I’m scared.”

Breaking down is a form of revolution, I thought as I watched him. Taking the pain inflicted on you and screaming about how unfair it is. It’s all part of rejecting being pissed on, and only works if you raise your voice and stop pretending it’s not hurting you, only when you start to accept your humanity.

“I’m scared too,” I said, making my way back to him in a heartbeat. I brought my chair closer and sat, slid my legs between his. “I’m genuinely concerned about our friendship, Tae. And about you, and… about keeping you safe, you know?” Taehyung nodded his head in acknowledgment. He did know that I was struggling to keep him grounded and safe, to have a grasp of what he had in mind while he drank himself to a blackout. In that moment too he looked ill, on the verge of collapsing, this time rather caused by his non-stop sobbing. 

Taehyung pulled me by the hands and leaned into my chest. His silence pushed me to continue. “If I haven’t made that clear enough, haven’t made you feel how much I care-” I stopped, gulping, all the air in my chest nowhere to be grasped for a moment. Taehyung’s sobbing was stably going right into my skin. “It seems I’ve failed, haven’t I?” He shook his head against my chest, the friction hurt briefly, and I gently reached for his waist, held him closer. “Anyway, I apologize, baby, for everything that I’ve been lacking. I- I’m not enough, for any of it.”

“That’s not true. No, you’re perfect.” Somehow he sounded desperate, like his whole belief system was threatened to fall apart and he was holding on dearly.

“Please,” I urged. To me, it was somehow disturbing that he thought that, a skin prickling, sleep-depriving shock to my system. “That’s not true for anyone and not true for me.”

Silent, he sat. His skin against mine, his heat righteous in the face of my still touch. Nothing good could come out of my obstinate hands, that I knew, and yet caressed his tensed up neck regardless.

I drove him home. The day was picking up around us, people crowding the soulless streets. From the passenger seat, Taehyung pursed his lips and pointedly watched me. Everything I had, I had ruined. It made me mad thinking about it. The car windows were closing in on me as if to shut down all my imprecise concerns, and I sped up the car, unable to put away my urge to flight, flight, flight.

What good would it do to me, acknowledging how seriously I had damaged this- this precious thing? Whatever it was, I had kept it so close to my chest that I’d screwed it up, obscurely and yet inevitably. I desperately wanted for it not to be the case, that in the end, this was what love was.