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Summer had this spectacular way of dragging on.
The type of heat that invited exhaustion, the type of humidity that clung to you, oppressive much the same way the mountains crowding Seoul were -- tall, insurmountable. . . a beautiful set of obstacles you couldn't see over, life beyond their territory invisible to the eye. Even six stories up, well above the windows they looked through every day, Taehyung still couldn't see past the boundaries of the city.
That part of the world was off limits now, his free-to-roam life left behind for one of daily schedules made for him, immutable. There was a path to follow, a road to take, one not made by his own design. Video-game-esque, it was almost as if the world ended just a few short kilometres away, at least, until he completed enough levels; then maybe the map would expand, a new location open for him to complete too.
Weren't people always saying that it was the vast stretch of stars that made the universe seem so big? Maybe that was what made Taehyung feel so constricted. The stars had long ago abandoned Seoul, dim and far away, as if its inhabitants could live with keeping them replaced by glittering city lights, and maybe they could. The other members sure as hell didn't seem to get homesick as often as he did.
Still, the term homesick was something to be contested. He was starting to forget what it was that he missed so much about Daegu. When Taehyung was finally given two meagre days off for the first time in months, he'd jumped to throw away six of those hours to make the journey home and back; but even after tasting his mother's cooking once more, and walking past his last school, and visiting old neighbours and the people he used to call best friends that he now hardly recognised -- that feeling, that emptiness in his heart, the pull in his gut, what he'd rationally assumed was and labelled homesickness -- it didn't pass.
Another month passed with little processing, with Taehyung starting to think the feeling wouldn't ever pass. It didn't take long for a month to become two, to become a season, then another, until a year had passed and he still couldn't remember what it was that used to feel like home.
"Tae?"
He'd heard the door to the terrace (if you could venture to call the flattened-off rooftop adorned with two plastic chairs and a table that Taehyung steadily ignored in favour of sitting at the ledge whenever he came up here, a terrace), of course he had, but turning around right now felt like more effort than he possessed, and dance practise today had left a crick in neck. He was surprised that it took Jimin so long to say anything.
Footsteps approached, and Taehyung let them where he would have shoved anyone else away. He could never turn Jimin away, so even as the other took his time, slowly sitting on the precarious edge of the building, Taehyung remained, complaints vacant and remote. The familiar his of a can opening is heard, and Jimin presses one of Taehyung's favourite diet sodas into his hands. He takes it with an almost soundless thanks.
"You're missing the pandemonium downstairs. Hoseok-hyung can't find his sweater -- you know the really expensive one he bought a few months ago? Swears down that Namjoon-hyung did something to it."
Taehyung hums, trying his best to pay attention to the conversation because it's Jimin that's speaking, and it's not that he doesn't care, it's just that it all sounds so pointless right now. Of course something was happening downstairs, something was always happening with them -- hell, initially half of the happenings were between Jimin and himself. Some days he still wasn't quite so sure how the whole group was supposed to fit together until the end of their contract, but only time would tell, he supposed.
"So of course Seokjin-hyung found it all hilarious, now Hoseok-hyung is calling him a dick. Yoongi-hyung dragged Ggukie out before anything got too heated -- no fucking clue where they're going, at this time, street food maybe -- but I figured I'd take a step in their direction, when I realised you weren't there." It's just an observation, no malice in his words, but Taehyung still feels a little shamefaced for not being there when he maybe could have helped.
How, he wasn't sure, seeing as the whereabouts of Hoseok's sweater were just as much of a mystery to him, but an extra head couldn't have hurt in the search, especially if it would have prevented another petty argument.
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter," Jimin keeps talking even when Taehyung effectively provides the conversational qualities of a brick wall. "They'll probably have found it or gotten over it by the time we go back downstairs. Hoseok-hyung never stays angry for long." He takes a sip of his drink, and Taehyung follows, glad to have something to do, something to hold. He feels a little bit more grounded with the condensation from the can transferring onto his hands, cooling them whenever the warm breeze hits.
He hadn't been thirsty up until that point either, or maybe he just hadn't realised he was, but true to his fashion, Jimin's intuition seemed to know exactly what he needed, even when he wasn't there to read it on his face. Taehyung envied the ability. He hardly ever knew what he wanted or needed.
"What are you always doing up here on your own, Tae?" Jimin's voice is only lightly questioning, curious, like he doesn't find it all that weird when he definitely should. Taehyung knew it wasn't exactly normal to escape to such heights when he felt even the slightest bit off, yet it had become one of his most recurring habits. There was no simple explanation, Taehyung didn't know either.
"I'm not really sure what I'm still doing here, Jimin-ah," Taehyung admits, then, only because it's what came to him automatically, and the statement is vague, accompanied by a more blank-than-anything expression, but Jimin stills next to him, as if he'd seen a wasp land on him, or maybe it's just because he's scared to move much when they're in such a location, he isn't sure.
"What do you mean?" Jimin says so gently that Taehyung fears he's fucked up and scared his best friend more than he ever meant to -- it's not like, it's not like he's going to do anything, no, he wouldn't do that to the team -- he tried, aimlessly, to backtrack.
"Not in that way," He tries to reassure, even though it definitely is a little bit in that way, but he wouldn't say that to Jimin, not when it would worry him sick. "I just feel a little bit off. That's all. Kinda like, ugh -- I don't know." That's the tough part of opening up to anyone, it forces you to confront your feelings, because you certainly can't express them without knowing them. "It kinda feels like, like I'm a piece of driftwood, right now. Like, like you guys are all rooted, on a pretty island, or one of the beaches of Busan, and I'm, I've broken off."
He shakes his head, that barely made any sense, even to him, but Jimin doesn't say that. He abandons his can to the side as Taehyung grips his own harder, scootching closer, until the fabric of his pyjama sleeve is brushing against Taehyung's arm, until their ankles knock together as they dangle, and Jimin observes him, never judging, but always attentive. "You feel lost?" He concludes.
Taehyung's breath always stutters in his chest when Jimin is this close to him, and he nods, because he has no better way of describing it. "Uh, yeah. . . something like that, I guess. Maybe, maybe now that I'm an adult, and we've debuted, it's kinda hard to. . ." He sighs, craning his neck up to the cloudy sky as he thinks. "Dream? Now that, now that we've all gotten this far, everything seems so set in terms of the future, and -- don't get me wrong, I love Bangtan Sonyeondan, I love ARMY, I love you -- and all the other members, it's just, do you ever wonder if we're doing the right thing? Going in the right direction?"
It all feels a bit embarrassing once he's said it, but Jimin tilts his head and hums thoughtfully, like he's trying just as hard to look for the right words as Taehyung is. He makes no move to rush him, time feels almost inconsequential here and now anyway.
"I feel like that too, sometimes, I think, or similarly, at least," Jimin starts, swinging his legs properly now, leaning back on his hands to make the action a little less dangerous, effortlessly pretty. "But you know, what's the alternative? Maybe you're not doing what's right for you, but do you even know what you'd do otherwise? Maybe you'd try to be an actor, or a teacher, or maybe you'd work at a grocery store, or be a solo idol -- I think, I think you'd have the same worries, and doubts. I mean, everyone feels like that at one point or another, right?"
He continues, "I think our hyungs would probably give better advice on this, but I think, as long as you're alive, you're progressing, and even if you take the wrong path, you get to learn things on it, like what bugs you'll see on the way, or what leaves are edible. . ." Jimin seems to sense his metaphor escaping him, and shakes his head, as if to manually set himself right again. "What I mean is, you can always go back, and then you'll be even more equipped for the next path! But anyway, I don't think it's weird to stress about that, just. . . maybe you should have more trust in fate -- I mean, we've gotten this far already, haven't we?"
Taehyung supposes it made sense, but even if it didn't he would agree just to make Jimin smile. "I guess my mother already gets to be proud that we have songs to our names -- and, we have fans. Real life fans."
The beaming smile is worth all the positivity that Taehyung fought into his reply, easily, in fact, in a way, it does more for his indefinable sentiments than the pep-talk did. "We do! Isn't that awesome? I don't think I'll ever stop getting excited over how many comments we get on our SNS!" He sure has a point there, it's exciting and scary and a whole lot of responsibility knowing people look up to them and scrutinise them so heavily, but the continued support is something Taehyung would always be grateful for. "Really though, are you happy, Tae? Because you can tell me if not, or any of the others, we can try to help for sure."
Jimin's brows furrow with concern, and not for the first time, Taehyung wonders how he got so lucky. Maybe their team had hope, because their team had Jimin, and Jimin was like happy glue, piecing them together even when things got tough. Was he happy? Well, maybe he could be, if Jimin stayed by his side like this. "Yeah, Min-ah. I am." He said softly, willed it to be true.
The other nodded, satisfied. "Have you eaten?"
"Have you?" Taehyung shoots back, trying to put some force behind the words, because this was a topic he found important, knowing the answer full well -- Jimin's hesitant shifting alone confirms it, and he wants to scoff, but that'd be too rude after Jimin had been so kind.
"One of the managers said my tummy still has room for improvement. My cheeks too, I guess, but when do they not."
"That manager is fucking stupid," Taehyung says, and he means it, because criticising him is one thing, but Jimin? Jimin was, Jimin was -- "You're so fucking beautiful and they're stupid and jealous that you look worthy of museums when they can only look in the mirror and see the failure their parents produced. They're fucking blind and I hate them."
I hate them for making you hate you.
"You don't hate anyone," Jimin says, and he pulls Taehyung in, soothing like he was witnessing a grumpy, immature tantrum from a child that just learnt how to swear, and maybe Taehyung does feel a little petulant, why -- he was being serious. "You cried when one of our managers said Jeongguk had to switch outfits and Ggukie got upset."
There it was again. "Yeah! Exactly -- our manager. I hate them all. Well," He backtracks, because that time he was exaggerating a little. "Not all of them, but all one of the ones who say stupid, mean shit like that!" Now that Jimin has got him all fired-up and talking, he couldn't quite understand why he was feeling so non-verbal earlier.
"All of them who keep us and our career in line, you mean?" And Jimin sounds almost amused, like all of this is funny, normal or even expected, something they just have to get used to, and sure maybe they do, but Taehyung hates it, he hates it and he hated it and he always will hate it.
"All of them who restrict our freedom." Taehyung corrects. "Telling kids we can't eat isn't keeping us in line, it's child abuse." He says it very matter-of-factly, but the words make him nervous, like someone's going to come out with a camera and his contract underlined in red to expose him.
Jimin is quiet for a moment, and Taehyung remembers where they are, the city noise loud and invasive again, cars honking at unforgivable hours some distance away, radio-pop playing from one of the apartments below them if he strains his ears, and the omnipresent static sound of electricity lighting up one of the most popular up-and-coming cities in the world. After their tense discussion, it all comes to him easier than before, a breather.
"We aren't kids though, Tae-ah." Jimin says quietly.
"We were." Those words hurt more than anything else he's brought up so far, maybe due to the finality of them, the past tense, the way there was no going back to rectify them. "We were supposed to be, and Jeongguk --" He doesn't have to say more after that, because Jimin will understand, Jimin who is selfless and compassionate, Jimin who will care for everyone but himself.
The harsh truth was so easy to see when presented on a character as soft as Jeongguk, it was easy to see on Jimin too, but, as if the mirror in front of him was shattered and unreadable, he wouldn't wake up to it, couldn't, even, and knowing that hurt Taehyung more than the other would ever know.
"You've always been beautiful to me, you know." Taehyung says, instead of beating a dead horse trying to convince Jimin of his own worth, because if there's one thing Jimin can't deny, can't push away, it's Taehyung's adoration for him. "Even back when you had the baby fat and -- and the shitty haircuts. You were beautiful even on the days you didn't sleep or broke out or we argued. Fuck -- you're still beautiful to me, even when you're puffy and swollen from bingeing on ramen, or sweaty and gross after practise. You're always beautiful to me."
The speech invites another bout of silence, and Taehyung drinks it in, feeling weightless in his sincerity, this life was so cruel, but Jimin was sweet, and if he could focus on that, he could continue on for another day.
"Tae?"
He hums and takes another swig of his soda, eyes glued on the scene in front of them. The sky had cleared up some more, the moon shining, waxing gibbous and lighting up the parts of the city that electricity failed to taint. It wouldn't be long before it was hidden away again, judging by the clouds, so he tried to drink in her presence whilst he could.
"Do you. . . do you ever feel like. . ." Jimin pauses and Taehyung knows he's chewing his lips without having to look at him. "Do you ever feel like, like you like different things, from other people. . . like, you know how Yoongi-hyung, uhm. . ." That last part is what gets his ears to perk up even before Jimin finishes speaking, the way it came out of nowhere, and Taehyung is sure his heart is racing at the speed of light right now, hands getting clammy because there's no way Jimin is saying what he thinks he's saying. "Do you ever feel like you might be like that, too?"
Oh, oh. Taehyung looks down at the ground directly below their dangling feet, and it looks no different than it did a couple hours ago, with maybe only a few more moths circling the lampposts. "Min-ah, we can't -- we can't, not now, not now when --" Not now when we've just debuted, not now when people already look down on us as is, not now when everything is so uncertain, and the slightest fuck-up could derail them all.
"I'm not saying -- ! I'm not saying we tell anyone," Jimin rushes out. "Just, Tae, I really, I really --"
It's beyond anything Taehyung could ever have dreamed up, it's the best and the worst news he could have ever gotten, when there's so much he wants to do, and so much he can't, they can't. They can't they can't they can't and it hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts because Taehyung wants. Fuck, he wants so much.
"I really like you," Jimin whispers it, but the words are there, and Taehyung heard them, and his heart constricts in real time, tears itching the back of his eyes only centimetres away from the amygdala that's firing off with a whirlwind of more emotions than Taehyung has experienced in the past few months combined.
Taehyung doesn't know what to say, but he knows he won't lie, can't lie, so it's through the dizzying pain of holding back everything he has that he speaks. "Maybe, maybe in another life, Min-ah, maybe in another life we could --"
He breaks off there, stops himself before words turn to sobs, before the fool he hides behind the stage-name V shows up to say something he'll regret, and still he can't face Jimin, Jimin who is perfect and likes him back, Jimin who is dangled in front of him like a carrot to a horse, forever close enough to tempting, but never close enough to have.
Still, in his peripheral, he sees Jimin tense up, straighten then turn towards him properly. The neon sign indicating the expensive restaurant Taehyung has only been to once down the street flickers weakly, one of its hanja characters going out sporadically, as if it were in tune with the heart aching in Taehyung's ribcage, barely holding on.
"Yah, do you want me to push you off this ledge or what?" Whether its the statement itself of the aggression with which it's delivered, so unlike Jimin's usual tone, Taehyung practically gives himself whiplash with the way he meets Jimin's very pissed-off expression.
"What?" He asks, dumbly, because he's truly been struck dumb. Of all the things he conjured up leaving Jimin's mouth, each more heart-breaking than the last, this was truly something beyond Taehyung's farthest predictions.
"Are you stupid or a hypocrite, then? For someone who was raving about our right to freedom earlier, you sure as hell seem comfortable locking yourself up like you're wearing some fucking self-imposed chastity belt or some bullshit." For every word Jimin adds, Taehyung feels a word lost that he could have responded with, perplexed.
"But -- I mean, at least diets and dress-codes aren't in our contract," Taehyung argues, scraping the barrel in his brain for a reasonable response. "Our dating ban is, and that's not even beginning to touch on in-group dating, or the fact that we're -- that makes us --" He can't even say it.
"Namjoon and Yoongi are fucking."
Dust-bunnies and peach fuzz and crinkly aluminium noises and empty canvases are all that is seen inside Taehyung's brain the moment that sentence meets it, his thoughts screeching to an immediate stop, record scratch, short-circuiting. It takes him several long seconds to gather his bearings, and once again, he is at a loss for an eloquent response. "What?"
"Probably shouldn't have said that, oops." Jimin doesn't sound guilty or repentant though, and continues even when Taehyung is still trying his hardest to catch up. "If you listen closely outside their studios at night you can often hear them. Or in the shower sometimes. I think Namjoon-hyung is a B, if you know what I mean. Don't tell them I told you that though."
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. "Namjoon-hyung is gay?" Taehyung is starting to feel faint. He barely registers himself accidentally knocking his drink over, not that Jimin pays it any mind either.
Jimin shrugs. "At least whilst he's moaning Yoongi-hyung's name. That's not the point -- I mean, it's not -- it doesn't have to be the end of the world, you know. Us. . . being gay, or bisexual or whatever. Or dating. If our leader-hyung can do it, why can't we? That wouldn't be fair -- Namjoon-hyung would defend us for sure." Jimin nods confidently as he says it, and Taehyung wonders, not for the first time, how a person can be both so self-conscious and so self-assured.
Just one of the many quirks that make up Park Jimin, he supposed.
"Yeah, okay," Taehyung lands on, but one thing still weighs heavy on his mind. "But what if someone finds out?" They could be fired, ostracised, bullied out of the country, fuck -- killed for being fags. Taehyung had liked studying in California, sure, but that didn't mean he wanted to live there, even if they were a little bit more open-minded across the pacific ocean.
"No one's gonna find out. How would they find out? It's not like we have CCTV inside the dorms 24/7 or something, and okay, maybe one of the managers would catch wind, but -- but, they wouldn't hound us if only staff found out, they've spent too much money in us now just to throw us away." That sure was a whole lot of optimistic thinking, and Taehyung wanted to be hopeful, but this was all scary -- terrifying, the risk. "Hell -- maybe we can convince one of the hyungs to let us have the studio to ourselves."
Taehyung laughs, feeling a little delirious, both at the thought of how that particular conversation would play out, and at the thought of him and Jimin being given a room with a lock all to themselves, now that they were, now that they were gay.
Clearly impatient, Jimin doesn't give him more time to make sense of the situation, shamelessly interrupting Taehyung's overactive, hormone-fuelled imagination. "Kiss me," He all but demands, seeming very unmoved by Taehyung's gaping-wide reaction.
"It's -- we're outside." He protests weakly, even as his eyes fall to Jimin's plush lips, well aware that there's no dissuading Jimin when he wants something. Still, the dorms were only a few floors down, and a much safer bet, even if the view here suddenly seemed terribly romantic.
Jimin scoffs, loud and dramatic. "It's 2AM."
"Even smaller idols have night-watch sasaengs --"
"Do you want to kiss me or not?" Jimin huffs, arms akimbo. "For someone who was waxing poetry earlier about how beautiful and perfect I am," The words are stressed with a distinct amount of sarcasm, Taehyung is unsure if he should feel offended or not. "You sure as hell aren't doing anything about it now, do you even like me?"
Jimin was surely joking, tagging on that last bit, but it spurs Taehyung to action nevertheless, he won't have anyone -- least of all Jimin -- doubting his affections like that. His grip on the ledge tightens, concrete gritty under his fingertips, and leans forward none-too-slowly, only allowing himself to pause for the briefest seconds, mere centimetres away from Jimin's lips, both confirming consent, and verifying the validity of this moment, because he can't quite grasp that he's allowed to see Jimin this close.
And when their lips meet, it isn't fireworks roaring in the skies, it isn't butterflies causing a ruckus in his stomach, nor is it puzzle pieces slotting together. It's not a warm blanket that covers him, or wedding bells ringing in the distance. It certainly isn't a taste of honey to savour, for Jimin tastes like clean skin and his favourite strawberry-scented lip balm.
It's home.