#v angst

The furniture arrived on Thursday.

Two men from a moving company carried everything up the narrow front steps with the efficient, slightly aggrieved energy of people who had seen too many Victorian staircases, and by two in the afternoon Y/N had a bed, a sofa, a dining table, and a bookshelf that she immediately began filling because an empty bookshelf was the saddest thing she knew.

Taehyung watched from the corner of the living room.

He did this sometimes, appeared without announcement and settled himself into the periphery of a room with the stillness of someone who had learned, over a very long time, how to take up very little space. She had grown used to it faster than she would have expected. By the third day, she had stopped startling. By the fifth, she had started talking to him the way you talk to someone in the next room; not always expecting an answer, but directing the words somewhere specific.

He answered more than she expected. Not always in words. Sometimes it was the quality of his attention, the way he tilted his head or looked at something she mentioned as if turning it over in his hands. Sometimes it was a gesture — a slow nod, a faint smile that arrived and left without making a production of itself. Occasionally he spoke, and when he did, she found herself putting things down to listen.

They had reached, without discussing it, a kind of equilibrium. He was dead and she was alive and they were both in the same house, and they were managing.

It was on a Saturday — her first full weekend in the city — that she found the paintings.

She had been meaning to explore the upper floors properly, beyond the cursory walkthrough she'd done when she moved in. The third floor had two rooms: her bedroom, which faced the street, and a second room at the back that she'd earmarked as a study. The study still had its previous tenant's built-in shelving — deep, floor-to-ceiling, painted the same off-white as the walls — and she had assumed they were empty.

They were not.

Behind the lowest shelf, pushed back against the baseboard and covered with a drop cloth so old it had fused slightly to the floor, were canvases. Dozens of them. Stacked carefully, facing inward, in the manner of someone who intended to come back for them.

Y/N crouched on the floor and lifted the corner of the drop cloth and sat very still for a moment. Then, she called down the stairs.

"Taehyung?"

He appeared in the doorway behind her with the particular quality of his arrivals — no footsteps on the stairs, no creak of the floorboard, just suddenly present in a room as though he'd always been there and she'd only just noticed.

She gestured at the shelves.

He looked at them for a long moment without speaking.

"I wondered where those had gone." He finally said. 

They carried them out together, which was to say Y/N carried them and Taehyung directed, because his hands, she had learned, could make contact with some things and pass through others in a way that seemed to follow a logic she hadn't yet worked out. He could touch the walls of the house. He could not move the paintings.

"Here," he said, from the center of the room, as she leaned the first one against the wall. "Turn it."

She turned it.

The canvas was perhaps twenty-four by thirty inches — not large, but substantial. It was a street scene, San Francisco unmistakably, the hills and the particular quality of fog-light and the way the buildings crowded toward each other like people sharing warmth. But the colors were not the colors of a postcard. They were interior colors — the blue-grey of early morning not quite arrived, a deep amber in one lit window, a streak of something almost violet at the horizon that had no name she knew. The brushwork was confident and strange, visible but not showy, the kind of painting that took years to look that effortless.

Y/N sat back on her heels.

"This is extraordinary," she said.

Taehyung looked at the painting and not at her.

"It was the view from the corner of this street," he said. "In winter. I used to stand there in the mornings before Claire was awake. I liked the city when it was still deciding what kind of day it wanted to be."

Y/N looked at the painting and then at him. "How old were you when you painted this?"

He considered. "Twenty-six. Maybe twenty-seven. I had been here for about two years." A pause. "I didn't speak very much English yet. Painting was—" He stopped, seeming to search for the right word with the care of someone for whom words in any language were still a second system of thought. "It was the thing I could say without having to translate."

She looked at the next one without being asked.

This one was larger — a figure painting, a woman at a window, seen from behind, the light from outside turning her into a near-silhouette. The woman's shoulders had a particular quality of stillness, the light around her was almost violent in its beauty. Y/N stood in front of it for a long time without speaking.

"Claire," she said. Not a question.

"Yes."

"She was beautiful."

"Yes." Simply, without weight. "She knew how to stand in light. She understood it as a painter, I mean. Where to put herself. I used to think it was unconscious, that she just naturally found the good light the way plants do." A pause. "Later I thought it was more deliberate than that."

Y/N glanced at him, but his face was even, undisturbed, and she didn't press.

They worked through the afternoon like that — she pulled canvases from the shelf and propped them against the walls, he stood in the center of the room and watched each one appear as though relearning something he had half-forgotten. A harbor in fog. A figure asleep on a narrow bed. A series of three small paintings of hands, just hands, unattached to any body, each one doing something different: one holding a brush, one pressed flat against glass, one curled open and empty.

It was the hands that made something in his face finally change.

She saw it happen, saw the control he'd maintained all afternoon loosen, just slightly, at the edges.

"Taehyung." Her voice was careful. "Are you alright?"

He looked at the three paintings for a long moment.

"I forgot I made those," he said. "I painted them the winter before—" He stopped. "The winter before."

She didn't ask before what. She understood.

She set down the canvas she was holding and sat on the floor, the same way she'd sat that first night, cross-legged, at his level, and she waited.

He sat too. This surprised her; she had never seen him sit on the floor before. It was always in chairs, and always with the particular posture of a man who had been taught to hold himself a certain way. But he sat, and folded his hands in his lap, and looked at the hands in the three small paintings.

"I came here from Busan," he said. "Do you know it?"

"I know of it. I've never been to Korea."

"It's coastal. Loud. The light is very different there — harder, more direct. Southern light." He was quiet for a moment. "I came to Seoul first, and then I thought — if I'm going to go, I should go entirely. So I came here." He looked around the room — at the walls, the window, the soft north light. "San Francisco reminded me a little of home. The water everywhere. The hills."

"Were you frightened?"

He looked at her as though the question surprised him. "Constantly," he said. "But I was twenty-four and I thought being frightened was the same as being alive, so I mistook it for a good sign." The faint smile again. "I was not wrong, exactly."

"And the painting?"

"I had always painted. Since I was a boy. My father thought it was impractical and he was correct, but some things are going to happen regardless of whether they are practical." He looked at his hands, his real hands, not the painted ones. "When I came here, I had nothing. Very little money, very little language. I shared a room in the Tenderloin with two other men and I painted on the fire escape because there was no light inside." A pause. "But the work got better. It got better very fast, actually. I think difficulty is useful, if you are the right kind of person."

"What kind of person is that?"

"The kind who gets angry instead of small."

Y/N looked at him.

"Is that what you are?"

"I was," he said with a chuckle. Then, with a kind of equanimity that she was beginning to understand was simply how he was built: "I don't know what I am now."

She didn't have an answer for that. She thought, privately, that whatever he was, it was more than most living people she knew.

"How did you meet Claire?" she asked.

Something warmer moved through his face. "A group show in North Beach. 1953. We both had work in it — three pieces each, in a gallery the size of this room that smelled of turpentine and someone's dinner from the night before." He shook his head slightly, remembering. "She was arguing with the gallerist about where he'd hung one of her pieces. Very calmly but completely immovably, the way she did everything. I stood there and watched her for ten minutes and forgot I was supposed to be looking at the art."

"And she noticed you?"

"Eventually. When she was done winning the argument." He smiled a full smile this time, rare and devastating. "She said, ‘You've been staring at me.’ I said, ‘You're more interesting than the paintings.’, and she said, ‘Including yours?’ So I said, ‘Especially mine.’ She laughed, and that was… that was it, really. That was the whole thing."

"She sounds remarkable." Y/N smiled.

The warmth in his face didn't leave, but it became more complicated. "She was," he said. "She was remarkable."

The particular way he said it — past tense, weighted, something unresolved underneath — made Y/N look at him more closely. But his expression had settled again, and she understood this was as far as he would go today, and she didn't push.

"These should be seen," she said instead, looking around at the paintings. "All of them."

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean—" She gestured at the room, at the stacked canvases, at the street scene still propped against the wall with its unnamed violet at the horizon. "You were a painter. This is your work. It shouldn't be in a back room under a drop cloth." She paused. "The museum where I work — we're putting together an exhibition. Mid-century San Francisco. Your name came up this week, actually. There's already a piece in the collection."

Taehyung was very still.

"My name," he said.

"Yeah."

He looked at the paintings. She watched something move through him, something complicated, not entirely happy. A feeling that had more rooms in it than one.

"Claire's name is the one they know," he said quietly. "Not mine."

"I know," Y/N said. "I know that's true. But I don't think it has to stay that way."

He looked at her for a long moment — this woman who had been in his house for eight days and had found his paintings and was sitting on his floor looking at him like he was something worth preserving.

"You don't know the whole story yet," he said.

"No," she agreed. "But I'd like to."

Outside, the city moved through its Saturday — noise and light and the distant sound of someone's music from an open window down the hill. Inside the small back room, the paintings stood around them like people at a gathering, patient and present, waiting to be introduced.

Taehyung looked at the three small paintings of hands.

You sit up and look around, you’re in a hotel room. You see an iphone on the table and a laptop on the desk. Thank god, you must be somewhere close to where you started. You fling the orange blanket off of you and sprint to the desk, wiping your cheeks as you turn on the computer, thankful that it doesn’t have a password. You immediately bring up the search engine and type in the only name you care about at the moment: Jeon Jeongguk, Hawaii. You thank god it isn’t a popular name, because the first result that comes up is the one you’re looking for. 

“Local Japanese veteran suspected in the disappearance of his fiancee.”

Disappearance? Oh no… You keep reading.

“After the clearing of prime suspect Paul Smith, police turn their attention to Jungkook Jeon, fiancee of the missing girl.”

You scroll to the next article.

“Fiancee cleared, girl still missing.”

This doesn’t help, you need to find him now. You go to the whitepages website and type in his information: Jeongguk Jeon, Honolulu, Hawaii. Ding! One result. Kahala Nui Nursing Home. Nursing Home? You look at the date in the bottom of your computer screen. 2012. You suppose Jeongguk would be in his nineties now, you’re just thankful he’s still alive. 

You immediately look for a wallet anywhere in the vicinity, finding one inside of a purse; inside waiting is a sleek black credit card with your name on it. Literally. You immediately search for a travel website before realizing you should probably figure out where you are first. You open the map on your phone and click the current location to see you seem to be in Daegu. Perfect. You find the first flight out to Honolulu and purchase the ticket, hoping you have enough money on the card to do so. Transaction Complete. You download your boarding pass just as you hear a beep and then the door to your room opens. 

“Y/N, are you ready?”

“Actually I’m going to need a ride to the airport.” You state, turning to see a young man standing there. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Uh, family emergency. I have to leave for a week.”

“A week?” The man squeaks. “You have three shows this week and the make a wish thing today.”

“Reschedule them.” You insist, standing up and gathering your things, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and starting to undress until you realize the man is still staring at you in disbelief. “Uh, do you mind?”

“You’re kidding right?” You shake your head and he turns to face the wall. “When did you get shy?”

“Since I just got back from the 40’s.” You joke.

“What?”

“Nevermind.” You say as you change your clothes. 

“I’m not taking you to the airport. You can’t just dip out like this.”

“Just reschedule things.”

“Reschedule things. Reschedule a whole week? Oh yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just push back your entire tour. Reschedule every interview. That’s fine. I’m just your manager. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you. ‘Reschedule it Jin’. It’s fine.” He shrugs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Now that you’ve tied the rope around my neck, are you going to kick the chair out from under me too?”

“I don’t have time for this.” You roll your eyes, grabbing your suitcase and heading for the door. “Can you check me out of the hotel too since I assume that’s your job?”

“You assume?” He nearly chokes. “I’ve only been your manager for six years, but apparently that doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“Goodbye Jin.”

“Y/N,” He grabs your arm. “You have to do the make a wish thing before you go.”

“Just push it back a-”

“He might not have a week.”

You sigh. “Three days. Just give me three days and I promise I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Hawaii.”

He scoffs. “I’m supposed to believe you’re going to Hawaii for a family emergency?”

“I’ll be at a nursing home the whole time. It’s my… my grandfather.”

“I didn’t know your grandfather was still alive. After your parents died I thought…”

“Just barely. And I’m the only one left. I have to go see him. Please Jin.”

Jin sighs, letting go of your arm. “You have three days. And the moment you come back you’re right back on schedule. You won’t have a day off in between your next three shows.”

“Deal.” You agree, opening the door.

“Alright, put your mask on. Let’s get you to the airport.”

You dig through your purse, pulling out a face mask as you walk toward the elevator while Jin calls about a hundred people. You find out his full name is Kim Seokjin as he leads you out of the elevator and out to a black SUV. 

“To the arena?” The driver asks. 

“There’s been a change of plans Michi. Take us to the airport please.”

“Yes sir.” Michi starts the car and pulls off, obediently driving you to the airport, no questions asked. When you arrive at the airport, Jin grabs your arm before you can get out of the car. 

“Remember. Three days. And be careful. No one knew you were coming so you shouldn’t get mobbed, but you don’t have security so stay under the radar.”

“I’ll be careful.” You nod before hopping out of the car, grabbing your bags and heading into the airport. 

You breeze through the airport, no one except the security agents that read your name recognize you, and before you know it, you’re sitting on the airplane in first class. Before the airplane takes off, you take the opportunity to google yourself to see why you have a manager.

“Y/N is a Korean singer/songwriter.” Apparently you debuted when you were sixteen under IM entertainment and have been active ever since. During the flight you listen to your own music, thankful that it all sounds familiar to you and you know all the words. Damn. Never in your wildest dreams would you ever think this was a possibility for you to live, but here you are. 

You hardly sleep through the twelve hour flight, your mind is too anxious. Will he even remember you? Will he want to see you? When you land you grab your bag and hail a cab to the nursing home, your stomach twisting in knots the entire time. When you arrive, you pay the driver and then head inside, taking off your face mask and walking up to the desk where a woman in scrubs is sitting. Please let you know english. 

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see my grandfather.” Thank god.

“What’s his name?”

“Jeongguk Jeon.”

She types on her computer and then looks up at you in confusion. “Mr. Jeon doesn’t have any family listed in his file. You said you’re his granddaughter?”

“After my parents died, they were probably taken off his file. I’m all he has left.”

She eyes you suspiciously for a moment before shrugging. “Very well. Name please?” 

“Y/N J-Jeon.”

She types in your name, prints out a visitor name tag for you and then stands up, motioning for you to walk with her. You follow her down several long hallways until you reach a door with Jeongguk’s name on it. She knocks as she opens the door. “Mr. Jeon, you have a visitor.” There he is. Sitting in a wheelchair facing toward the window opposite you.

“I don’t want to see the doctor.”

“It’s not the doctor Mr. Jeon. It’s your granddaughter.”

“I don’t have one.” He rasps, waving the nurse away.

She shrugs. “He has some memory problems, but maybe you can help jog them? I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.” The nurse states before disappearing, shutting the door behind you, leaving you alone with Jeongguk for the first time in, well, about seventy-one years. 

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves before crossing the room; the only sound being that of your footsteps, accompanied by your rapidly beating heart. You come to stand in front of him, but he doesn’t spare you a glance and it gives you a chance to study him as he looks out the window.

His hair has greyed to the point where it’s almost white, his face is filled with lines and creases that come with age, but his bunny teeth are still the same, his nose is still too big for his face, and his eyes are the same warm dark brown that you know, only now, they seem laced with an unknown sadness. 

You kneel down in front of him, the movement causing him to look at you for the first time, and when he does it’s as if time itself stops. He stares at you, confusion written on his face, like he’s trying to place you and why you look so familiar, and then you see it. You can see the exact moment the memories come flooding back; his mouth drops open with the slightest gasp of recognition as his eyes grow wide, taking in the sight of you, the one he lost so long ago, appearing in front of him as if nothing has changed. 

“Y-Y/N?” He whispers, one of his hands coming up to cup your face as if to make sure you’re actually here and not just a figment of his imagination.

“Hi Kook.” You offer a small smile, finally meeting his gaze.

You watch his eyes immediately brim with tears right before he grabs you and pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he sobs softly. You stay like this for a few minutes, enveloped in Jeongguk’s natural scent that you remember so vividly, taking comfort in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you until he pulls back, wiping the tears from your own eyes that you hadn’t even realized were falling. 

“I… What… How?” Is all he can manage, staring at you in disbelief. “How?”

“If I told you, you’d think I was crazy.”

“I already do.” He teases with a smile. 

You pull a chair up next to Jeongguk and take a seat before explaining everything to him; your childhood, the first jump, the haze and everything that happened after that up until now.

“So I hopped on the first plane here, hoping that you were the you I was looking for.”

“You jump through time?” He clarifies. You nod. “And you couldn’t have told me that sixty years ago?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“I would’ve believed anything. We thought Paul killed you. We thought his goons took you from the bar and killed you. I… I looked everywhere for you. I never stopped. I looked until I couldn’t walk anymore.”

“Jeongguk I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you wasted your life looking for me. I-”

“Shhh.” He shakes his head at you. “Just the thought that one day I might find you, that you might come back to me, it made it all worth it.” He smiles. “And here you are. You haven’t changed at all.”

“Neither have you.”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Have you seen my hair?”

“I have,” You chuckle, brushing his hair back. “But your eyes let me know that you’re the same Jeongguk I fell in love with.”

The two of you sit and chat for a long time. Hours. Jeongguk has you dig in his closet for an old photo album so he can show you everything he did while you were gone. He shows you picture after picture; the day his parents arrived in Hawaii, a week after you disappeared; him and Kono saying goodbye to Bits and Clara; one christmas when the girls came back to hawaii to surprise Kono and they all had dinner; his mugshot from when he was a suspect in your disappearance; a puppy he got; his enlistment photos from joining the US Army; photos from when he was stationed in Vietnam, the friends he made there, and the ones he lost. Overall, Jeongguk lived a good life, but a lonely one.

“Why didn’t you ever get married?” You ask.

“Can you grab my book off the nightstand there? And inside the drawer, there’s a wooden box, that too.” He points to the table beside his bed.

“Are you avoiding my question?” You tease as you stand and retrieve the book.

“No, I’m going to explain it. Give me the book.”

You hand the book and the box to him and sit back down in your chair, watching as he cracks the book open and pulls out his bookmark, handing it to you to look at as he digs through the box. You look at the bookmark closely and let out a soft gasp; it’s a very old, very worn picture that’s been taped up again and again to hold the pieces together and prolong its life, but it’s not the state of the picture that makes your heart ache, it’s what’s in the picture. It’s you. It’s the picture Clara took when you finally got your engagement ring back; you, standing nose to nose with Jeongguk, smiling as bright as the sun, your hands on his chest and his on your waist, the ring shining in the light. 

“Jeongguk…” You whisper, turning to see him holding up your ring.

“You were the only one that ever deserved to put this ring on your finger.” He states, taking your hand and placing the ring in your palm. 

“You kept it?” You ask, turning the gold band over and marveling at the ruby. 

“Getting rid of it would’ve meant letting you go, and I could never bring myself to do that.” You sniffle as you wrap your arms tightly around Jeongguk, placing a kiss on his cheek before pulling back. “I want you to keep this. However long you’re here, in this life, I want you to have it.”

“J-Jeongguk I-”

“It’s yours.” He reminds you. “It always has been.” You nod, unable to speak as you take off your necklace and slip the ring onto the chain, fastening it back in place as Jeongguk begins to cough, bringing a handkerchief up to cover his mouth and then removing it once he’s finished and turning back to look at you.

You look at the corner of his mouth to see something red smeared on his bottom lip. 

“Is that… blood?” You mumble, pointing to your own lip.

Jeongguk sighs. “Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t see.”

“Jeongguk, what is it?”

“Lung cancer. Turns out smoking cigarettes isn’t good for you. It’s a good thing you came when you did, noona. I’m due to go soon.”

“Go…?”

He shrugs. “I’m ninety-two; I didn’t expect to live past thirty. I’ve made my peace with it. And now that I know you’re okay, I’m even more ready.”

“Come back to Korea with me.” You blurt.

“What?” He looks at you, confused.

“I-I have money in this life. I can get you doctors, medicine, anything you need. I can keep you safe.”

“Y/N, I wouldn’t even make the trip home.”

“Why not?”

“I saw the doctor yesterday, but I’ve known for a while. I’ve only got a few days left. My body isn’t strong enough to fight it anymore.”

“Kook no…”

“I’m afraid so.” He smiles sadly. There’s a moment of silence as you think of what to say.

“Jeongguk, would you mind if I stayed with you? Until…”

He nods as a tear slips down his cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

.

It doesn’t take long at all. You spend all of the next two days together, reminiscing, but Jeongguk’s body is deteriorating rapidly and he only grows weaker. On the third morning, when you wake up in the cot the nurse dragged into Jeongguk’s room for you, you look over and notice Jeongguk is unusually still. You quickly leap up and rush to his side to find that at some point during the night, he passed in his sleep; silently, peacefully; his last words the night before being ‘I love you, noona. Sleep well’. 

You weep, devastated at the loss, expecting the haze to come over you at any moment, but in the hours you sit there, nothing changes. You have to accept the fact: you’re stuck here. You gather yourself and when the nurse comes in to check on you again, you tell her you have to go.

Technically Jeongguk’s belongings have been left to the facility, but she lets you take whatever you want. You grab the photo album, the wooden box, and Jeongguk’s book, cradling them in your arms and walking back out to the front desk to work out a few details. You have Jeongguk’s body sent back to Busan so that you can bury him there, along with any of his things the facility doesn’t want, and then you pack your things and head back to the airport; you promised Jin you’d only be gone for three days. 

.

When you arrive back in Daegu, Michi picks you up from the airport. He doesn’t say anything, simply giving you a sympathetic glance as he starts the car and immediately drives you to some sort of a stadium where things already seem to be busy, and it’s only eight in the morning.

When you arrive, Jin immediately escorts you inside. You arrive backstage where you’re fitted with a microphone, your in-ear monitors, and then pushed out on stage where things are still being set up. “Okay, we’re just going to run through the opening to get the sound adjusted and then we’ll take it from the top.” You look down at the soundbooth to see someone giving you a thumbs up.

“Got it.” You nod, walking out to the center of the stage and looking around. A strange and yet familiar melody starts playing as you take in the size of the stadium. There’s no way you sold tickets for all these seats. There’s nothing you wanted more when you were little than to have a life like this, but you never imagined it’d happen, not even in this bizarre way.

You run through the rehearsal with no problems and are escorted back to the green room afterwards to eat lunch while Jin barrages you with a thousand questions, but you ignore him mostly, stating that you simply don’t want to talk about it until after the concert is over. He sighs and nods in understanding before leaving the room. You relax for a few hours before you’re escorted to hair and makeup.

It takes about an hour and a half for them to get you fixed up, and then on your way to get changed, Jin stops you and pulls you back toward the green room.

“Jin, I have to get changed.”

“No, remember you have the make a wish thing first.”

“Oh, right. Okay.”

“His name is Taewon. He’s eight years old and he was diagnosed with leukemia when he was five.”

“Oh my god that’s awful.”

“I know. He was in remission for a year before the cancer came back and they say he’s… not doing well. His older brother takes him to some sort of children’s hospital in the United States that allows him treatment without having to pay. Their parents were killed in a car accident two years ago, so it’s just the two of them and Taewon’s greatest wish was to attend one of your concerts. I figured a small meet and greet wouldn’t be too taxing for you, but please be nice.”

“Of course I’ll be nice.” You scoff. How could he think you wouldn’t be? Jin knocks on the open door of the green room and pokes his head in.

“Taewon! I’ve got a surprise for you.” Jin enters the room and waves you in. You walk in after him to see a small, frail looking boy with a face mask on and a beanie covering what you assume to be a hairless head. Though you can’t see his mouth, the way his eyes light up tell you that he’s beaming.

“Oh my goodness…” He whispers.

“Hi Taewon! It’s nice to meet you!” You bow politely before walking over to him and shaking his hand.

“Oh my gosh it’s really you!” He squeaks. “You’re really Y/N!”

“It’s really me, how are you doing?" You crouch down in front of him.

"I'm great now!" He tugs on the sleeve of the tall blonde man next to him. "Hyung look!"

"I see her bud." The blonde man nods and smiles a rather dazzling half smile. "Why don't you tell her what you wanted to say?" Taewon looks down at the ground and shuffles his feet, seeming embarrassed. "Go on." He urges.

"I-I wanted to say that you're my most favorite-est singer in the whole world."

"Aw, thank you so much Taewon!" You smile brightly at him. "What's your favorite song?"

He perks up at this. "My favorite is 'Keep Going'! It's my theme song during treatment! My mommy used to sing it to me before she died." Your heart breaks a little when you remember that this boy is incredibly, and most likely, terminally ill, and to make life worse, his parents were also taken from him.

"Wonnie, she doesn't need to know that." The older boy scolds.

"No, it's okay." You shake your head before looking back at Taewon. "I just lost someone very close to me as well." You tell him, reaching up to grab the ring that hangs from your necklace.

"You did? Who was it?"

"Someone I loved very much."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Taewon whispers, patting your shoulder.

"Thank you." You smile at him again. "I really appreciate that."

"Do you need a hug?" He asks.

You nod. "That would be great." You get down on your knees and allow Taewon to wrap his arms around you for a quick hug. "Are you ready for the show?" You ask as he pulls away, allowing you to stand back up.

"Yes!" He shouts, clapping his hands together.

"We should probably go find our seats. I'm sure you have to finish getting ready." The older boy states.

You turn to Seokjin and whisper to him. "Did they get front row seats, or...?"

Seokjin looks panicked at your words. "You didn't specify so we gave them the best that was still available."

"Hm..." You think for a moment. "Can we let them watch backstage or something?"

Seokjin nods. "Sure, that shouldn't be a problem."

"Great." You turn back to the two boys. "Taewon, I've got a surprise for you. How would you like to watch the show from backstage?"

His eyes light up. "Backstage? Really?!"

"Of course! Anything for my biggest fan."

"Oh, thank you!" He cheers, running over to wrap his arms around your legs. "See hyung?" He turns back to his brother. “I told you cancer has perks!"

The elder boy throws his hands up. "You got me there."

"Right. Y/N, you have to get ready." Seokjin reminds you before turning to one of the guards. "Choi, please take Taewon and..." He pauses as he looks toward the elder boy.

"Oh, um Taehyung." He stutters. “Kim Taehyung.”

"Take Taewon and Taehyung to their new seats please." Choi nods and begins to usher the boys out of the room. You follow them, waving goodbye in the hallway.

"I'll see you guys soon!" You state before heading to your changing room. "Seokjin?" You call as you walk.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to get that little boy anything his heart desires. Food, toys, merch, anything, got it?"

"Got it." He nods as you reach the changing room door and turn to him.

"And I want to change the encore to 'Keep Going'."

"Alright. I'll let them know." Seokjin reaches for his headset. "Now go get changed, you're on in ten!"

You fly through the concert no problem before finally reaching the encore. you stand just off stage as you hear everyone chanting "one more song!". An addicting rush floods through your body as you check your mic before walking back out on stage as the crowd starts to cheer.

"I've got one more song for you tonight Daegu, how does that sound?" You smile as everyone cheers in excitement. "Good, I'm glad. I'd like to dedicate this song to a very special friend of mine." You look over into the wing where Taewon is watching you. "He told me today that this was his favorite song, so if it's okay with you, I'd like to sing it for him." Your fans cheer and you wave over at Taewon, beckoning him out onto the stage with you. He looks up at his brother for permission, and when Taehyung nods, the younger boy scrambles to his feet and sprints out onto the stage with you. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my friend, Kim Taewon." You hold your hand held mic out to him and whisper, "Say hello."

"Hello!" He smiles. "My name is Kim Taewon. I'm seven years old and I have leukemia!" He states, causing everyone in the crowd to "Aw" in sympathy as you nod to the sound guys to start the song. As the first few notes play, Taewon's face lights up. "This song's my favorite!" He exclaims into the mic.

You pat him on the shoulder. "This one's for you."

You sing to Taewon, letting him sing along whenever he wants to, bringing tears to the eyes of many of your fans. When the song ends, you say one final goodbye, give a grateful bow and lead Taewon off stage. You have the two boys wait in the green room while you change and wipe the mountain of makeup off of your face. As you change, you ask Jin to call Michi to take them home in the nicest car.

When you're clean, you walk back out to the green room in some shorts and an old shirt, knocking as you enter. "It's me."

"Y/N!" Taewon runs over and wraps his arms around your legs. "That was the coolest thing ever! You do that every night?"

You giggle at his enthusiasm. "Not every night, but sometimes it feels like it."

"I wanna be a singer when I grow up! Do you think they liked me? Do you think I could?"

"Definitely! You can do anything you want Taewon." You smile bittersweetly, knowing it's likely he won't live long enough to even graduate high school.

"I'm gonna start working really hard on my singing!"

Just then, Jin walks into the room. "The cars are here." He states, and you nod at him.

"I guess we should head out then." Taehyung says.

"Actually, one of the cars is for the two of you."

Taehyung's eyes go wide. "Really?"

"Yeah," You nod. "One last bit of fun. Taewon!" You turn to the younger boy. "Follow my friend Jin here, for your last surprise!"

"Okay!" Taewon takes off out of the room after Jin while you and Taehyung follow a bit farther back.

“Hey.” Taehyung whispers as you walk.

“Hm?” You look over at him.

“I… I just wanted to say thank you. You know… For being so nice to him.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” You shake your head.

“No.” He grabs your arm and stops you. “I really do.” He bows deeply to you in gratitude. “Thank you so much. I know it must’ve been difficult to see him during your busy schedule; and I really appreciate everything that you’ve done for him tonight.” Taehyung stands back up and looks ahead to where his brother is tugging on Seokjin’s arm. 

"Really, it's no problem. Taewon's a great kid, and he's lucky to have you as his brother."

"Nah." Taehyung shakes his head as you start walking again. "I'm lucky to have him."

You walk in silence until you reach the back bay of the stadium where Taewon is currently scrambling to climb into the SUV you provided. Taehyung helps his brother in the rest of the way before turning back to you.

"Thanks again, for everything."

You nod, smiling at him. "Get home safe, and if you ever need anything, just let me know."

"Ah, don't worry about it."

"I'm serious. Here, give me your phone." You hold out your hand. Taehyung hesitates, but eventually unlocks his phone and lays it in your hand. You quickly type your number in, send yourself a text, and then hand him back the phone. "There. That's my personal cell phone. Please call, and I mean for anything." He nods, climbing into the car and rolling down the window. "Taewon!" You call, getting the younger boy's attention. "Your brother has my number. If you need anything, even if you just want me to visit while I'm in town, just let me know, okay?"

His eyes light up. "Okay!"

Taehyung gives you a small smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You return the smile and wave as they drive away.

.

You text Taehyung everytime you're in Daegu for the next three months. You even invited him to a music video shoot nearby, but he never responds. Did he change his number? Does he not want your help? You can't figure out why it upsets you so much, you only met him once; but something about Taehyung draws you to him.

A month and half later, on a rainy afternoon in May as you're relaxing at your house discussing possible TV appearances with Jin, your phone starts to buzz beside you and you pick it up to finally see his name flash on the screen. Kim Taehyung. Suddenly you're scrambling to answer.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi Y/N. I don't know if you remember me or not-"

"Of course I remember you Taehyung." You can't help but smile.

"O-oh. Okay. Um... Sorry for not messaging you back, we've been a little busy."

"It's alright, don't worry about it. How are you?"

You hear him sigh on the other end of the line. "To be honest, I'm out of options..."

"What do you mean?" You inquire, concerned by the tone of his voice.

Another sigh. "How quickly can you get to Daegu?"

"I'm in Busan so maybe an hour and a half if I drive?

"Okay." It's quiet for a moment.

"Taehyung-" You're interrupted when your phone buzzes against your ear.

"Can you meet me at the address I just texted you?"

"Sure, but Taehyung, what's going on?"

"I... I'd rather tell you in person." His voice cracks just a bit. "Just please meet me as soon as you can."

"Okay, I'm on my way right now."

"Thank you..." Click. Your phone beeps, signaling the end of the call.

"What was that about?" Jin asks, his interest clearly piqued.

You ignore him as you plug the address into the GPS on your phone. "Daegu Gyeongsang Hospital?" You think for a moment before realization hits you and you gasp. "Taewon."

"The cancer kid?"

"How fast can we get to Daegu?"

"Like you said. An hour and a half maybe?"

"Call Michi, we're leaving now."

"Y/N, what's going on?" Jin gets up and follows you to your room as you begin throwing clothes into a bag.

"I think Taewon's in the hospital."

Seokjin sighs before grabbing his phone and dialing a number. "Michi? Get ready. We're going to Daegu."

An hour and fifteen minutes later, you walk through the front door of the hospital and walk up to the counter with a mask and a hat on, Jin trailing close behind.

"Kim Taewon?" You ask as you walk up to the front desk.

"Your name?" The nurse questions as Jin walks up.

"You cannot tell anyone that she is here." Jin tells the nurse. "We don't need the press blowing this out of proportion."

The nurse looks confused until you pull down your mask and her eyes go wide. "O-oh my god..."

"Sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. Can you freak out after you tell me where Kim Taewon's room is?"

"Right, s-sorry." She looks up his name on her computer. "He's in the pediatric ward, room 532. C-can I have your autograph?" You smile at her and take the piece of paper and pen she hands you, signing it for her before looking back at Jin.

"You go ahead, I'll get things sorted here and then be up." Jin states. You nod and then head off in the direction the nurse points you in, taking the elevators to the fifth floor and searching for room 532.

It takes you a few minutes, but you soon recognize a mess of blonde hair standing at one of the nurse's stations, staring at his phone. "Taehyung!"

His head snaps up to locate your voice. When his eyes land on you, he smiles. "Y/N."

"What's going on?" You ask, slightly out of breath.

His smile disappears. "Come with me." He leads you across the hall and around the corner to room 532 and opens the door to reveal Taewon fast asleep on the bed. Taewon has all sorts of wires and tubes hooked up to him; his breathing is shallow and harsh; and he looks so pale and frail; nothing like he was just a few months ago.

"What happened?" You ask quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy.

"He relapsed..." Taehyung whispers, looking as though he's holding back tears. "And he's just getting worse by the day, I... I don't know what to do." Taehyung collapses to his knees and you crouch beside him to hold him up, helping him back to his feet and escorting him out of the room over to the small seating area, shutting the door to Taewon's room behind you.

You allow Taehyung to cry on your shoulder, doing your best to comfort him as you wait for him to speak again. He gathers himself faster than you thought he would and sniffles as he explains.

"It was about two weeks after we met you. He started getting headaches and was getting sick at night so we came in for a checkup and..." He sighs. "It's back. And it's worse this time around. He can barely eat or walk, all he does is sleep. They've got him on this medicine and even though he says it's helping him, I don't think it actually is. And I don't have the money to fly back to the children's hospital in the United states. I can't even afford to drive to Seoul." He shakes his head. "Not that it matters, he can't travel. You saw him."

"What are they doing for him here?"

"More chemotherapy." Taehyung states. "But I don't know if he can do it any more. He's just so tired. I'm afraid... I don't think his body can continue to fight. And I don't want to force him, but I don't want to lose him." His tears start rolling down his cheeks again, but he does his best to hold it together. "Honestly I don't even know why I called you. It's just hard doing this alone..."

"Taehyung I'm so sorry... Is there anything I can do?"

"I can't ask you to do anything. I'm sure you have a busy schedule. I guess I just wanted you to know. He looks up to you so it would mean a lot if you talked to him."

"Of course. Anything."

Just then you hear a voice from inside the room. "Hyung!"

Taehyung leaps to his feet and hurries over to open the door and pokes his head inside wearing a forced smile. "Finally awake?" You don't hear the response, but Taehyung motions for you to join him. "Bored? Well, it's a good thing I brought back a surprise!"

When you walk up behind Taehyung, you hear an excited but exhausted voice. "What is it? Show me!"

Taehyung looks back at you and you nod, watching as he opens the door to reveal you to his little brother. You watch Taewon's eyes grow wide in amazement. "Y/N! You're here! What are you doing here?!" He squeaks.

"I heard my biggest fan wasn't feeling well. I had to come check on you!" You explain.

"I'm okay!" He smiles. "It's just a relapse, I've been through it before."

Your heart breaks at the way he says it so nonchalantly. "Well I'm glad to see that! You had me worried for a moment."

You go in and sit on the end of Taewon's bed, casually chatting with him for hours while Taehyung sits in a chair and watches silently. You don't realize how late it's gotten until the nurse comes into the room to give Taewon his nightly medicine and not so subtly states that he should be resting.

You agree, and help tuck Taewon in before saying goodnight and following Taehyung out to see Jin waiting on the bench outside of the room. You forgot he was here.

"All finished for the night?" He asks as you shut the door behind you. You nod. "Good." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. "Here's your room key, you're booked across the street."

"You don't have to stay." Taehyung shakes his head. "I couldn't ask you-"

"I want to." You assure him. "My tour’s over and I have a couple weeks off in my schedule. I'm here for as long as you need me." You give his arm a squeeze.

Taehyung's eyes well up with tears again. "Thank you. So much, I... I don't know how to repay you."

"Don't worry about it. Anything you need, just ask."

He nods, sniffling a bit as you say goodnight before heading back to your hotel with Seokjin.

.

For the next two weeks, you spend every day with Taewon and Taehyung; talking, laughing, sneaking the younger boy snacks, keeping him company when Taehyung has to run errands for a few hours every day; you enjoy befriending them both, they're both incredibly sweet and funny, and you like spending time with them, Taewon reminds you so much of the little brother you left behind with your parents.

Unfortunately, Taewon's condition only worsens the longer you stay, and it seems as though Taehyung's energy is being sapped along with his younger brother's. By the end of the second week, Taewon sleeps more and more, eating and laughing less, it usually ends up just being you and Taehyung watching TV or playing cards together, letting the younger boy rest as much as possible.

At the end of the second week, after Taehyung loses the last round of poker that he can possibly stand losing, you pop one last cookie in your mouth before you start gathering your things. You look up as Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

"Tired of losing?" You tease.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Just... a lot on my mind."

"Wanna have a drink?" You blurt.

"A drink?" He repeats.

You nod. "Why not?"

Taehyung hesitates as he looks over at the bed where his brother is sleeping. "I should... I should stay with him."

"Come on, the nurse is here, she'll give you a pager. Taewon's asleep and will be for hours. Let's go have a drink."

Taehyung looks over at his sleeping brother once more before he nods. "You're right, I could use one."

The nurse gives Taehyung an emergency pager, and after he tells the nurse a million times to page him when Taewon wakes up, you manage to drag Taehyung out of the hospital and up to your room across the street. You open the door and lead him inside, raiding the mini fridge. "What's your drink of choice?"

"Um. Soju? Or vodka."

You take all the bottles of soju out and carry them over to the bed, taking a seat on it and then gesturing for Taehyung to do the same. He carefully takes a seat on the bed with you, watching as you crack open a bottle and take a long swig.

"Thirsty?" He smirks.

"Just a bit." You nod before handing him the bottle. "Your turn."

He takes the bottle with a smile. "I've never had a drink with a celebrity before."

"Just think of it as drinking with a friend." You state. He smiles wider, raising the bottle to you before chugging nearly half of it. "Ah, apparently someone else is thirsty."

.

Two hours and four bottles later, the two of you are absolutely wrecked. You're rolling on the bed cackling as you watch TV and tell stories.

"I'm telling you! He walked right in there, and screamed his new favorite word. Our parents were mortified. You should have seen the look on my dad's face."

"Just screamed it?" You snort.

"He said 'Fucking bastard!' I thought she was going to fall over."

"I'm glad he's always been just as spirited as he is now."

"Oh yeah." Taehyung smiles bittersweetly, suddenly quieter. "Always has been."

You roll over to face him, seeing the sadness in his eyes. "He's a great kid."

Taehyung nods. "I just wish I could see him grow up."

"Hey, there's a chance, isn't there? He could get better again."

"Even if he does, I won't be around to see it."

"What do you mean?" You sit up on your elbows.

"Oh, um... It's nothing."

"No," You shove his shoulder. "You can't just say something like that and not explain."

He sighs. "I didn't want to tell anyone because I didn't want them to worry... Um, I..." He rubs his forehead. "I also... h-have... I have cancer."

"What...?" You ask in disbelief. "What kind?"

"It's in my heart. Well, the tumor is. Apparently it's rare, and there's no known treatment."

"So... When you disappear every day-?"

"I'm getting experimental tests done." He rolls up his sleeves and shows you the numerous bruises on his arms from different IV's and medicine injections.

"Taehyung, why-"

"Because I didn't want Taewon to worry. The focus should be on him, not me."

"But-"

"There's no point in worrying about me when nothing can be done. He could still pull through."

"Don't you think in two years he'll want to know why he's still alive, but you aren't? You're all he has, Taehyung."

"I guess... I never thought about it. I don't think about the future much..."

"Taehyung, I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "It's okay. I've come to terms with it, there's just still so much I wish I could do."

"I can only imagine. Never growing up, or graduating college, or going on a date, or-"

"Woah, I've been on dates."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to assume."

He chuckles. "What did you think, I was a virgin or something." You hesitate a second too long and his eyes go wide in disbelief. "You did, didn't you?!"

"I mean..."

"Do I give off that vibe?" He sounds panicked.

"Not necessarily. I just figured since you've been taking care of your brother so long-"

"That I've never done anything?" He snorts in disapproval. "I can prove I'm not a virgin." He points at you and a sudden heat flushes your cheeks. It takes a few seconds for him to realize what he said, but when he does he quickly becomes shy. "I just meant... I know what I'm doing." He finishes his drink and sighs. "I should get going."

"You can sleep here."

"Oh god, no I couldn't."

"Come on, they gave me a room with two beds. You can use one of them."

He sighs. "I guess it's better than that cot I've been sleeping on."

"Exactly."

.

Two weeks later, Taehyung has been staying at the hotel with you every night since the first night you invited him to use the spare bed, getting to know each other better, growing closer as the days pass. Last night, you and Taehyung got drunk again, and you don't remember falling asleep, but you wake up to the sound of very loud beeping.

"Hm? What the..." You realize what it is and sit up in a panic, chucking a pillow at the sleeping figure in the other bed. "Taehyung."

"Huh?" He jumps. "What?"

"It's your pager."

It takes a moment for it to register before he leaps out of bed and scrambles to scoop the pager off the table. "It says it's an emergency." He quickly jumps into action, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on as you do the same before you both run out of the room and across the street to the hospital.

.

"What happened?" Taehyung asks as the elevator doors open on Taewon's floor.

"Taehyung, what’s wrong?" The head nurse smiles when she sees you both walk in, until she sees the look on your faces.

“You paged an emergency.” Taehyung states, waving the pager in front of himself. 

“No I didn’t.” She takes the pager from Taehyung and looks at it before her eyes widen in realization. “Ah, I think I know what happened here. Follow me.” She leads you to Taewon’s room and opens the door. “Taewon, is this why you wanted to sit at my desk earlier?” She gestures to Taehyung as he walks in the room.

“I was booooored.” Taewon whines, causing you and Taehyung to breathe a sigh of relief. Taehyung scolds the younger boy, explaining to him why he should only do that when there’s a real emergency, otherwise he just needs to text one of you.

It's hard to watch as the younger boy lays there smiling at the two of you, clearly not seeing his own wrong-doing, or simply choosing to ignore it. If only he knew that even if he gets better, from here on out, Taehyung will only get worse. He's already starting to show signs of fatigue, and the new medicine they're trying has the older boy losing weight at a rapid pace. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but you can see it in Taehyung’s eyes, he's already starting to give up.

Around dinner time, you head to the cafeteria with the boys, pushing Taewon in his wheelchair down the halls, doing your best to keep them both laughing. The elevator doors open on the floor where the cafeteria sits and you immediately hear, "There she is!".

You're assaulted by the flashing of cameras and instantly move to cover your friends faces as paparazzi call out your name, bombarding you with questions as you slam your hand on the door close button. The doors finally shut and you press the button for the children's ward again.

"W-What just happened?" Taehyung asks.

"I'm so sorry." You whisper. "I should've been more careful."

"Y/N-"

The doors open and you walk up to the nurse's station on a mission. "Taewon needs to be moved to the private wing."

The nurse jumps at your words, your sudden demand startling her. "Why?"

"I'll explain later. Can we move him now?"

"The private wing is um... a bit more expensive." She states, looking over at Taehyung.

"I'll take care of it. Just get him moved now."

Five minutes later you're walking down the hallway of the private wing, on your way to Taewon's new room. His new room is bigger, with a better bed, tv, and even room service. There is also a guest bedroom with a king sized bed attached to the room. 

"Woah!" Taewon gasps as you wheel him in. "This is so cool!" Taehyung helps his little brother move to the bed just as Seokjin appears in the doorway, out of breath.

"I've been looking for you all over this damn hospital."

"Seokjin." You scold his language, nodding your head at Taewon.

"It's okay Y/N. I've heard hyung say damn before!" Taewon states, making the three of you laugh as Seokjin catches his breath.

"Jin, what happened?"

"This," He hands you a tabloid. "Came out this morning."

You take the paper from him and open it up to see the headline, ‘Y/N's new secret boyfriend, and a baby on the way?’ above a giant picture of you and Taehyung walking out of the hospital just last night along with a second picture of you both going into the hotel across the street.

"Shit..." You mumble, turning to the older boy. "Taehyung, I'm so sorry."

He takes the paper from you and his eyes go wide. "What the... Oh my god."

"Y/N, you're having a baby?!" Taewon squeaks with joy. "I knew you two were in love!"

"Taewon-" Taehyung rolls his eyes.

"Um, no sweetie." You shake your head, your cheeks flushing red. "Sometimes newspapers like to say things that aren't true.”

"They lie?" You nod. "Why would they do that?"

"To make people read their stories." Seokjin sighs. "To get people's attention."

"I would rather read the truth." Taewon states matter of factly.

"And that's why we keep you around." Taehyung laughs, ruffling his brother's hair.

"What do we do?" You turn to Seokjin.

He rubs his neck. "You should be safe here." He states. "But the company is furious and wants you to post the truth to your social media before rumors get too out of hand."

"Okay, I'll do that tonight."

Alright." He nods. "I have to go make arrangements with security, but I'll see you later." And with that, he leaves.

The next few hours are spent getting Taewon adjusted to his new room, ordering food, watching tv, and figuring out a script for your video. As you're filming, you introduce the two Kim boys, reiterating that you're not pregnant, you've been visiting Taewon in the hospital to make sure he gets better.

You send the video to Seokjin who quickly approves it, allowing you to post it on your social media. Fans quickly comment their support and understanding and you breathe a sigh of relief, ignoring the hate comments as per usual. Taewon seems amazed at how quickly the video blows up as you show him all the comments cheering him on and telling him to feel better; and thus the three of you can relax again.

When the movie you're watching is over, Taewon sighs and turns to you. " Noona, are you sure you're not in love with hyungie?"

You choke on your water as Taehyung scolds the younger boy. "Taewon, enough."

"But you guys are together all the time! And you're always laughing and whispering together! Just like in the movies!" Taewon whines.

"We're just friends, Taewon." You shrug. "Just good friends."

"Well, can you fall in love already? I want you to be happy."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." You explain.

"Exactly." Taehyung agrees. "Besides, I'm sure Y/N has a famous idol boyfriend already."

"I actually don't, but that doesn't change the fact that you can't force people to fall in love. And you can't choose who you fall in love with either..." You trail off as your fingers play with the ring dangling from your necklace. You haven’t thought about him in a few days but your heart aches the same. “Anyway, I should probably get going so that someone can get some sleep.” You stand up and walk over to Taewon, ruffling his hair before saying goodnight and walking up to the door. 

“You aren’t staying here?” Taehyung asks, following you out into the hallway. 

“And give the papers more to talk about.” You shake your head. “I’ll just be across the street if you need me.” He hesitates before nodding, letting you go.

As you settle into your bed, you can't help but notice just how quiet your hotel room is without Taehyung in it. You didn't realize how soothing his snoring had become. You toss and turn in your bed, unable to shut your eyes for more than a few seconds until your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You pick it up to see a message from Taehyung.

Taehyung (11:37pm): Can you sleep?

Can he read minds?

You (11:37 pm): Not without the sound of you snoring Taehyung (11:38 pm): wow. Here I am being a good friend, checking on you. and you insult me! You (11:39 pm): lmao You either? Taehyung (11:39 pm): Nah. This room feels weird. You (11:40 pm): It feels weird? Taehyung (11:40 pm): Yeah, I don't know how to explain it. I guess I got used to sleeping without the sound of hospital machines beeping. You (11:40 pm): Turn on the tv? Taehyung (11:41 pm): I tried that already. I don't even feel tired any more You (11:42 pm): Do you want to go for a drive? Taehyung (11:42 pm): A drive? You (11:43 pm): Yeah. You know, like in a car? Taehyung (11:44 pm): Won't you get in trouble? You (11:45 pm): Meet me out front in fifteen

After getting dressed and convincing Michi to let you borrow the car without telling Seokjin, you're parked outside the front entrance of the hospital waiting for Taehyung. You jump at the sudden knock on the window until you see it's Taehyung and unlock the car. He climbs into the passenger seat and the two of you take off.

"Your driver actually let you take the car?" He asks.

"Yeah, apparently I do it all the time."

"Apparently?" He looks confused.

You hesitate. "It's uh, hard to explain..."

"Alright. So where are we going?"

"I don't know." You shrug. "You know the area, is there anywhere we can go to just chill?"

"I know just the place."

Taehyung directs you the rest of the way, and before long you pull up a driveway to a small house surrounded by trees. As you get out of the car you hear nothing but crickets chirping and bugs buzzing, even the stars seem brighter out here.

"Where are we?"

"Welcome to my house."

"Your house?"

"You didn't think we lived at the hospital, did you?"

You shake your head as you follow him. "So this is where you grew up?"

"Mhm." He leads you around the yard to the back of the house where there's a small patio with a firepit. "S'mores?"

You can't help but smile. "Sounds great."

.

After your fifth s'more, as you lick your fingers clean, you catch Taehyung staring at you. "What?" You ask.

"Nothing." He shakes his head, going back to poking at the fire, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "You're just... You're not what I expected."

"Well what did you expect?"

"Definitely not someone who can down five s'mores in twenty minutes."

"Shut up." You giggle as you shove his arm. "You've had like thirteen."

"I'm just saying, the media does a great job painting you as a dainty... block of ice."

"Ice?" Your eyebrows furrow. "Do you think I'm that cold?"

"No, no not anymore." He explains. "But I definitely didn't think you'd be this chill. You seem so proper in your interviews, I was worried when Taewon chose you as his wish , I didn't..." He clears his throat. "I didn't think this sort of stuff meant anything to you which is why you kept putting it off."

"Not at all. I had to reschedule because of my hus- uh... s-some family problems." You reach up and twirl the ring in your fingers. Taehyung observes you, but doesn't press the matter.

"I'm glad you called me out here actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What's up?" You look up to see his face has become very serious. "Taehyung?"

He sighs. "Next week I've decided to have experimental surgery to try and remove the tumor."

"W-what?" You gasp.

"Don't try to change my mind. If there's a chance I can get rid of this thing, I want to do it."

"Taehyung, that's insane. There's still other treatments you could-"

"Y/N, don't." He scoots closer and grabs your hands. "I told you I've already made up my mind."

"But-"

"No but's." He shakes his head. "However, there's something I need you to do for me."

"Anything." You nod.

Taehyung sighs again. "Unfortunately, there's only a ten percent survival rate for this surgery."

"Taehyung-"

"Listen." He scolds. "I don't plan on going anywhere, but if I do, I want you to take care of Taewon for me."

"You want me to be his guardian?"

He nods. "I know it sounds crazy , but you're the only one I trust. And you're the only one he has. I can't let him go into foster care. I can't do that to him. Please, promise me you'll take care of him?"

"As if he were my own brother." You agree.

"Really?" Taehyung seems surprised by your answer.

"Of course." You mumble. "But Taehyung..." You sniffle, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. "You're... You're not allowed to go anywhere, okay?"

"Y/N..." He reaches a hand up and wipes away a tear that has slipped down your cheek as you meet his gaze. "Don't cry."

"Don't go." 

He offers you a small smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

.

The two of you sit out until early in the morning when the fire dies before Taehyung leads you inside the house and into what must be his bedroom. When he flicks on the light, he realizes a problem.

“Um. I can go sleep in Taewon’s room if you want to sleep here. His bed’s a little small.”

“We can share.” You state. He looks at you, bewildered, and you just nod.

You pull the covers back and both climb under, turning face to face as you close your eyes and breathe in, inhaling Taehyung’s now slightly smoky scent. You open your eyes again to see Taehyung observing you closely and you raise your eyebrows to ask why.

It's quiet for a few seconds, the two of you locked in this moment until Taehyung leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. He rests his forehead against yours as you breathe out shakily. He places another kiss against your cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back and your eyes meet once more. You can't tell if it's all the emotion in the air, the underlying loneliness and feelings you've been repressing, or a mixture of both, but as you look into Taehyung's eyes, you realize you're ready. 

You both silently agree on what's about to happen and Taehyung immediately reaches for you, pulling you against him and planting his lips on yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his hair as an attempt to get closer. His lips are soft and plump and it doesn't take long for his tongue to flick against your mouth which you happily accept, tugging on his blonde locks and eliciting a soft grunt from him as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Taehyung's hands are all over your body until he finally reaches down to unbutton your shorts before yanking them down your legs and then shedding his own pants. He quickly climbs on top of you, settling himself between your legs as his lips find your neck. He licks and bites at your skin as one of his hands slides under your shirt and under your bra to fondle your breast. He does his best, but your bra keeps getting in the way.

"This won't do." He mutters, sitting up and pulling your shirt off over your head before reaching around and unhooking your bra while he kisses you deeply. You're left short of breath as Taehyung tosses your bra aside and focuses his mouth on your breasts instead. He plants wet kisses on your chest before flicking his tongue across your nipple , making you gasp. He squeezes your breasts together as he smirks up at you. "You're beautiful, you know."

"Me?" You scoff. "Have you looked in a mirror?"

Taehyung simply shrugs, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples; back and forth, back and forth; making you squirm beneath him. He watches you closely, relishing in your reaction and occasionally letting his tongue graze across the hardening buds.

When he's finished teasing you, he kisses his way down your body, tugging off your underwear before laying on his stomach in front of you and trying to spread your legs. 

"W-What are you doing?"

"What do you mean what am I doing?" He giggles until he sees the look on your face. "Wait, has... No one's ever gone down on you before?"

"No..." You admit.

He stares at you, shocked. "Are you serious?"

"I've only had sex with one other person!"

"Oh. Really?" You nod. "How long has it been?"

"70 years technically." You mutter under your breath.

"How many?"

"Uh. S-seven years."

"Wow, so since you debuted basically."

You guess that's when you debuted. "Yeah, I haven't really had a chance since."

"Do you want me to try and see how you like it?" He asks.

You hesitate. "I-I guess so."

"You sure? I don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"N-no. Go ahead."

Taehyung nods, keeping your legs closed as he pushes them back into your chest, beginning by placing soft kisses all over the backs of your thighs as his lips wander closer and closer to your center until finally you feel the first brush of his fingers against you. He lightly drags his thumb down over your folds, pressing ever so lightly before running his tongue up in the opposite direction, making you gasp. He tries to spread your legs again, but you still hesitate.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, looking up at you. You nod, and finally allow him to spread your legs.

You watch as he brings his mouth down to your center and flicks his tongue out once more, licking a long stripe up your center before poking his way into your folds and gently prodding his tongue at you until you're begging for more. He happily obliges, settling his face between your thighs and rubbing his tongue against your clit, making you shiver.

You've never felt anything like this before. It doesn't feel this good when you do it yourself; how does his tongue even move that fast? Your hands automatically tangle themselves in his hair, tugging gently whenever his tongue presses down particularly hard. After a few minutes of this blissful torture, Taehyung's thumb returns, rubbing lightly around your soaked entrance. When he realizes how wet he's made you, he smirks against you.

"Damn, you get worked up easily." He teases.

"Shut up." You mumble, pulling on his hair harder to get him to go back to what he was doing.

Taehyung obeys your wishes and this time wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it delicately. You feel his thumb pull away and it's quickly replaced by two of his long fingers which he presses against your core until they find their way deep inside you. You let out a strangled moan, thrusting your hips up into his face, making him chuckle as he continues his ministrations.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out while his lips and tongue stay focused on your clit, his tongue picking up speed as his fingers do. Suddenly he curls his fingers forward inside you and your breath is taken away as he rubs against your g-spot.

"Oh fuck!" You whimper, squirming beneath his touch. You chance a glance down at Taehyung to see him staring back up at you, smirking, and you immediately look away, blushing.

You're panting now, your body unable to hold back as you feel your orgasm creeping in on you. Taehyung moans against your center, vibrating your body as you look down at him again; this time his eyes are closed, and you can see him rutting his hips against the bed, chasing his own friction. He sucks harder, his tongue moving faster as he tries to get you off so he can stop teasing himself more than anything. It doesn't take much more, just a few good flicks of his wrist and you start to unravel beneath him.

"T-Taehyung, I'm... I'm gonna-" You try to warn him. He only nods against you, sucking on your bundle harshly as he helps you fall apart with a cry of his name. "Taehyung!" You gasp as your body is flooded with the warmth of your orgasm, your thighs quivering around Taehyung's head as you drench his chin and fingers with your release. Your body shakes and your core pulses as Taehyung coasts you through, pulling off as you calm down and resting his head on your lower abdomen as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Okay, that was hot as hell." He states, reaching up to absentmindedly play with your breast. "You good?"

You nod as your breath comes back to you. That was way more powerful than your last orgasm. "Holy shit."

"I told you I knew what I was doing." He smiles.

"And you were right." You admit. Taehyung seems pleased by this as he climbs up your body to kiss you, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue as he slides it past your lips. That's when you feel Taehyung's length pressing against your thigh as he lays on top of you; hard and throbbing, aching to be inside you if the way his hips press against you is any indication. "Do you want me to, um. Return the favor?" You ask.

He shakes his head. "I just want to be inside you. You felt so tight." He groans in your ear, sending heat flooding back between your legs. You wrap your legs around him and pull him close.

"I'm ready if you are."

"Already?" He asks, surprised.

"Mhm." You nod shyly. "Please?"

Taehyung quickly sits up and sheds his boxers. You watch as his hard length bounces, amazed to see it dripping. "Wait, shit. I don't have a condom."

"Don't worry about it, I’ve got it covered." You hurry him, pulling him back down to you.

"Hey," He cups your face as he leans over you. "Let me enjoy this. Slow down."

"Sorry." You giggle.

"It's not every day I get to fuck an idol."

"Hey!" You roll your eyes, laughing as you smack his chest. "Come on."

He smiles as he leans down and kisses you again, scooting forward and rubbing against you, coating himself in your juices before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in. You gasp as he fills you, the sensation overwhelming you as you moan low in your chest. Taehyung grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of you wrapped around his length. When he fills you to the hilt, you both breathe out as he opens his eyes again to gaze down at you. 

“Damn. I didn’t think you were going to be this tight.” He grunts, leaning down to kiss you once more. 

“Please move.” You beg, your hands squeezing his shoulders. 

Taehyung nods, pulling his hips back to smack them into you again, and again, and again. He builds a slow, but satisfying rhythm, filling you completely each time before pulling out again. You get lost in the feeling of Taehyung thrusting into you, both of you caught up in this intimate moment with each other. You tug on his hair, eliciting the sweetest of moans from his lips moments before they reattach to yours. 

“Harder…” You whisper when you come up for breath. He groans in agreement, obeying your wishes as he fucks you harder, his hips slapping against yours with a sweet smacking sound as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Suddenly he angles his thrusts upward and his cock brushes against a spot that has you keening against him, loving the way it makes you feel.

“Oh fuck~!” You whimper.

Taehyung smirks as he repeats the motion, over and over, he slams into the spot so hard you see stars. Suddenly you feel that now familiar feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach. “T-Taehyung…”

“I know, I know.” He pants, picking up his pace and watching your breasts bounce as he does. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You can only nod, too far gone for words at this point. It’s only a few more thrusts before you come undone in his arms, your entire body quivering as you moan from the force of your orgasm. Taehyung rides it out with you, making sure you’re finished before he pulls out and strokes himself to completion on your stomach, groaning softly.

The two of you stay there panting for a while, relishing in the moment with each other as you both come down from your highs. Taehyung eventually gets up and slips his boxers back on, shuffling over to the bathroom and returning with a damp washcloth. He cleans you off and then tosses the cloth aside, giving you his shirt to put on before he crawls back onto the bed with you, curling up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

Taehyung kisses your cheek softly, pulling you close.  You lay there in the silence for a while, neither of you wanting to disturb the moment, but as you’re about to drift off Taehyung speaks. “Y/N, can I tell you something?”

“Mm.” You mumble an acknowledgement. 

“I think Taewon was right.”

You roll over to face him. “How so?”

“I think… I think I’m falling in love with you.” He whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

Your heart thumps so hard in your chest, you’re afraid he can hear it. “Really?” You ask. He nods, meeting your gaze and looking for a response. You decide to tell him the truth. If this is the last moment you have with him, you want him to know. “I love you too.”

.

A week later, you wake up and sunlight is filtering in through the blinds. You slowly stretch, feeling someone’s arms wrapped around your waist. You smile to yourself, settling back into his embrace when your phone buzzes on the nightstand next to you. You pick it up to see it’s a message from your lawyer who you contacted the day before. 

Lawyer Sooyoung (10:22 am): Hey, I have everything together for you if you want to meet today and sign it! You (10:23am): Perfect! If you could bring it by this address later, I'll be here all day!

You send her Taehyung’s address and then put your phone back down. Today’s the last day before Taehyung’s surgery, so you told him to spend the entire day with Taewon instead of you, knowing that if things don’t go well tomorrow, it could be their last day together. 

You roll over and gently rouse Taehyung, wanting him to go over as soon as possible. 

“Tae, wake up.” 

“Mm… Y/N?” His eyes flutter open and he looks up at you. 

“Hey, it’s sunday.” You remind him. “You should get going.”

Realization spreads over his face and he nods. “Ah, right.” You sure you don’t want to come?”

You shake your head. “I have things to do today. And it should really just be the two of you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And please, don't forget to tell him what’s happening.”

He nods again, still not fully awake as he places a kiss on your forehead and then sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. Taehyung dresses and then gives you one last kiss before heading to the hospital.

You spend the rest of the morning puttering about the house, watching tv, playing on your phone before you get a text from Sooyoung that she’s on the way. You change out of your pajamas and wait for her to arrive, hearing her car pull into the driveway before long. You head out to the front door to greet her.

“Sooyoung!” You cheer as she gets out of her car with her briefcase. 

She scoffs at you, shutting the car door behind her. “Since when do you use my full name? Am I in trouble?”

Ah, you forgot. You’ve met Sooyoung a few times since you ended up here and had to listen to her talk about how close the two of you seem to be. “Sorry, Unnie! Just glad to see you.” You offer a smile as she reaches the front door and gives you a quick hug. 

“I don’t know Y/N, something’s off about you lately. It’s like you’re this whole different person.” She states as she walks into the house, quickly setting her things on the kitchen table and taking a seat. You hurry over and do the same, sitting across from her. 

“I feel different.” You state. 

“Mm.” She eyes you carefully before waving the conversation away. “Anyway, I drew up everything you asked for, you just need to read over and sign everything. And Taehyung needs to sign a few things too.”

“He won’t be back until tonight.”

“That’s fine, just have him sign everything and you can have Jin bring it by tomorrow.”

“Where do we start?”

Sooyoung pulls several documents out of her briefcase, all organized neatly as she reads over each one with you before showing you everywhere to sign and initial. The first one states transfer of guardianship for Taewon if anything happens to Taehyung. The second is about you. If anything ever happens to you, you’re designating everything you have to Taewon when he turns 18, well, if he turns 18. Until then, Jin will be in charge, helping watch over Taewon until he is grown and able to manage things himself; and of course a healthy portion of your funds go to Jin directly; if only as a thank you for putting up with you all this time, especially the last two weeks.

After everything is signed and finished, Sooyoung begins to pack up her things. “Okay, that’s everything.” She states, smiling. “If you need anything else just let me know!”

“Actually, there is one more thing. I need you to open a safe deposit box for me.”

She nods. “Sure. I’ll get a key for you sometime in the next few days.”

“Thanks.” You nod, giving her a hug before walking her back out to her car. “For everything.”

“Hey, it’s what you pay me for.” She jokes. 

“Right…” You wave goodbye before heading back into the house, shutting the door and taking a deep breath. The rest of the day is spent relaxing. You take a bath after dinner and drink a glass of wine, enjoying having some time to yourself. 

.

A little after 11, Taehyung arrives back at home. You look up to see his eyes are puffy as he walks through the door. 

“Aw, Tae…” You whisper sympathetically. 

“I’m fine.” He shakes his head. “I just… I didn’t realize how hard it would be to say goodbye.” He admits, flopping on the couch next to you.

“How did he take it?” 

“Pretty well honestly. I mean, I feel like if anyone understands what’s happening, it’s him.”

“That makes sense.”

“He is, however, very excited to possibly live with you.” Taehyung chuckles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “He really adores you, you know that?”

“The feeling’s mutual.” You assure him, smiling lovingly at him.

“I’m so glad I met you.” Taehyung whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Me too Tae.” You sink into his embrace, his arms warm as they wrap around you. The two of you sit like this for a while, enjoying the feeling of being together for what could be the last time, until you have to ruin it, of course. You sit up and grab the folder from Sooyoung, handing it to Taehyung.

“What’s this?” He asks, opening it to sift through the contents.

“Those documents we talked about… You should sign them before tomorrow.”

“Right, okay.” Taehyung nods, standing and walking over to the table to find a pen. You follow him, sitting next to him and helping as he works his way through it, pointing out all the places he needs to sign and initial. When he’s done, he turns to the second document and then looks up at you. “Is this just a copy?”

You quickly move to shut it inside the folder, you should’ve taken it out before giving the other one to him. “T-that’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” You try to shake him off, but Taehyung holds the document out of reach and reads the beginning of it. 

“Transfer of estate in case of… Y/N, what is this?”

“It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution to what?” He asks, his eyes wide with worry.

You sigh. “I just… If anything ever happens to me I want you guys to be taken care of.”

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“Nothing!” You blurt a bit too quickly. “I mean, I don't know, things happen all the time.”

“Y/N…”

“I… I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m crazy. Just trust me. It’s a safeguard, okay? Just in case.”

Taehyung puts the document down and takes your hands in his. “Nothing you ever say would make me think you’re crazy.”

You scoff. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me.”

The way he looks at you, it makes your heart hurt. Do you want to just leave him hanging like you did Jeongguk? You don’t think you could ever do that to another person. Jeongguk gave up his life to search for you, and you know Taehyung is the kind of person to do the same, but can you really tell him your secret? Two people in the same timeline knowing what happens to you, is that too many? Can you risk it? You don’t know what the rules are… Or if there even are any rules.

“Wait here.” You mumble, standing.

“Y/N-” He tries to grab your arm, thinking he upset you, but you hold up your hand.

“Just… Just wait here.”

You walk back into the bedroom, digging through your things until you find what you’re searching for in the bottom of your bag; a photo album, a wooden box, and a book. You return to the kitchen, setting the things on the table as you take your seat next to Taehyung. He eyes the items curiously, but waits patiently for you to explain. 

You gather your thoughts, trying to find the best way to phrase everything before you begin. You explain the first time it happened to you, how it was the weirdest deja vu feeling, and how it changed after that, longer jumps, stranger jumps, putting you in places and times you never thought possible, until your last jump. You explain your time with Jeongguk, and everything that happened to you up until now.

“At any point I could disappear, just like I do every time. The haze will happen and I’ll be gone.”

“So, wait… You jump through time?” He doesn’t believe you. He can’t believe you. Not without proof. You grab the book off the table and slide the bookmark out of its place, handing it to Taehyung. He stares down at the picture of you and Jeongguk, studying it closely until his eyes go wide. “Your ring.” He mutters, more to himself than you as he looks up at your neck, seeing the very same ring dangling from its chain around your throat.

Your fingers automatically fiddle with the jewelry in question as you open the photo album, showing Taehyung more pictures of your previous life with Jeongguk. He takes it all in, watching in silence as you explain things to him. When you’re finished, he’s quiet for a long time, mulling it all over in his head until he finally speaks.

“When you cancelled for a family emergency, that was…?”

You nod. “I had just arrived here, and I… I needed to find him.”

“And he’s…”

“He’s gone.” You smile bittersweetly. “Cancer, ironically enough.”

Taehyung lets out a half-hearted chuckle before he nods in understanding. “I believe you.”

Your eyes go wide at this. “R-really?”

“Of course.”

You breathe out a huge sigh of relief, your head falling forward into your hands. “Thank you.” You whisper.

Taehyung doesn’t answer, as if he knows the thanks weren’t entirely meant for him, but for someone else, something else. Instead, he simply grabs your arms and pulls you up with him, tugging you into the bedroom and laying on the bed next to you, wrapping you tightly in his arms for comfort.

“Tae if anything happens to me, I need you to take the things I showed you and give them to Jin. Tell him to put them in my safety deposit box, he’ll know where it is.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.” 

“I love you.” He breathes in your ear as you both drift off. 

.

When you wake up the next day, the sun is streaming in through the blinds and you quickly realize that Taehyung is not beside you. You bolt upright and scramble for your phone, checking it to see the time. 11:13 am. Taehyung’s surgery started at 8 am. You fling the covers off your body, throwing on some pants and a shirt before grabbing your purse, a mask, and a hat, and heading directly to the hospital. 

When you arrive, you immediately go to the surgical wing, checking in at the desk to see where he is and following a friendly nurse to the waiting room. You see his name and status flashing on the board across from where you sit: Kim Taehyung, OR. You can’t focus on anything except those three words, completely lost in your own anxious thoughts as you wait for Taehyung.

Waiting…

And waiting…

And waiting…

Kim Taehyung, Recovery.

Your heart pounds in your chest when the board changes, relieved and terrified at the same time. A few minutes later, a doctor walks into the room and calls his name. 

“Family of Kim Taehyung?” You quickly stand and walk over, trying to seem as calm on the outside as you can. “Follow me.” He leads you back through the doors he came through and back past several drawn curtains down a long hallway and into a room where you finally see him, wrapped in blankets fast asleep in the bed.

“H-how is he?” You question, your voice cracking as grateful tears well in your eyes.

“He’s going to recover fine from the surgery, it was strictly exploratory.”

“Exploratory? I thought-”

The doctor sighs. “It was bigger than we thought. There’s no safe way for us to remove the tumor. It’s grown around one of the chambers of his heart. If we tried to remove it…” The doctor trails off. 

“It would kill him…” You finish for him, scooting your chair closer to Taehyung. “He’ll die either way.”

“I’m sorry ma’am.” The doctor moves to take his leave. “He should wake up soon.”

“Thank you.” And with that, you’re left alone with Taehyung. You sniffle as you grab your phone out of your purse, quickly calling Taewon.

“Hello?”

“Taewonnie! Hey, it’s Y/N.” 

“Noona!”

You try to choke back your tears, wanting to assure the boy everything is fine. “I just wanted to let you know that Taehyung is out of surgery and should wake up here in a few minutes.”

“Really?? Yay! Hyungie is okay!”

“I’ll bring him by later, yeah? Let me know if you need anything and I’ll have Jin bring it for you.”

“Okay, thank you noona!”

You hang up the phone and lean your elbows on the side of Taehyung’s bed, silently sobbing to yourself as you look down at his beautiful face. Even with all the money in the world, there are some things that just aren’t possible, and it hurts you to think about. Taehyung and Taewon are as nice and selfless as they come, and yet one of them, if not both of them, will leave this lifetime so soon, whereas you will be here for who knows how long, living a thousand lifetimes, none of which you feel you deserve. 

Maybe that’s the whole point.

Maybe it doesn’t matter how many lifetimes you live, or how many things you succeed in. What really matters are the people. People like Taehyung and Taewon, like Jeongguk, and Jin, and Kono and Bitsy and Clara. People that you can make a difference for. 

You grab Taehyung’s hand in yours, rubbing it with your thumb as you wait for him to wake up, silently making yourself promise that no matter what happens from now on, no matter where you end up, you’ll force yourself to be a background character. You will only be there to support those who need you, and then you will disappear from their lives, leaving no trace of yourself. And you will not, under any circumstances, fall in love again after Taehyung. You don’t think your heart can take another break.

Taehyung stirs next to you and you feel him squeeze your hand as his eyes flutter open. “Y/N…?” He mumbles, looking around before his gaze finds you and he smiles softly. “There you are.”

“Hi handsome.” You sniffle, kissing his knuckles. 

“How mad are you?”

“For leaving without me? I’m already over it.”

“How’d it go?” He asks weakly. You know he already knows, he just wants to hear it.

You shake your head. “Exploratory only.”

“Really?” He sighs. 

“Apparently it’s bigger than they thought, and it’s um, it’s wrapped around one of the chambers of your heart, so even if they try to take it out…”

The room goes silent, Taehyung only nodding in understanding before settling back against the pillows. He doesn’t speak much when the nurse comes in to check on him. A few hours later, they allow you to wheel Taehyung up to the private wing with Taewon. You hope it will help cheer him up for a little while at least.

Taewon cheers, greeting his older brother with excitement as you push Taehyung’s bed, aligning him next to Taewon’s. Taewon quickly clambors over to his brother’s bed, rambling about all the things he did while waiting for Taehyung’s procedure to be over. Taehyung smiles softly, nodding along to the things Taewon says, his eyes heavy. You quickly remind Taewon that Taehyung needs to rest, and turn on the tv to turn the younger boy’s attention elsewhere, allowing Taehyung to close his eyes. 

You remain at Taehyung’s side, sitting in a chair, resting your forearms on his cot, one of his hands laced with yours. You must doze off at some point, barely waking up when you hear voices. 

“No, let her sleep.” It’s Taehyung. “We can tell her when she wakes up.” You feel his hand on your head, brushing your hair out of your face and hum happily as you fall back asleep.

.

The next time you wake up, you’re in a bed. You look around confused, slightly terrified that the haze came in your sleep, until you recognize it as the guest room adjoining Taewon’s. You realize it’s morning as you sit up, adjusting your clothes before walking out to the next room to see Taehyung and Taewon enjoying breakfast together as they watch some show.

“Breakfast without me?” You ask, walking over to the table between them and snagging a piece of toast.

“Hyung said not to wake you!” Taewon explains. “He said you were really sleepy.” 

“I guess I was.” You nod. “Um, how exactly…?” You look back towards the room you emerged from before meeting Taehyung’s gaze. 

“Jin moved you.” He answers. “He came up to check on you and saw you asleep so I asked him to move you to the bed so you’d be more comfortable.”

“Ah, well thank you.” You smile, sitting down at his side. 

“Hyung, can I tell her?” Taewon suddenly bursts. “Please please please?”

“Wonnie, let her at least eat something first.” Taehyung scolds.

You finish your toast and reach for a piece of fruit. “Tell me what?”

Taewon looks to his brother for permission and Taehyung nods. “Go ahead.”

“My last set of scans came back clean! I get to go home!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Really?”

“I'm in remission!” He cheers.

You look at Taehyung for confirmation. “He comes back for repeat scans in a few weeks, but as of last night, he’s cancer free.”

“Taewon, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you.” You put on a smile, but your heart aches. If he’s truly cured, Taewon’s going to have to live the rest of his life without his brother. Who knows how long Taehyung has left. Why does life have to be so unfair? To survive years of cancer, just for it to take your brother, the only family you have left. 

“Noona? Are you okay?” Taewon rips you from your thoughts and you realize a few tears have slipped past your defenses.

“Of course! These are happy tears.” You lie as you wipe them away. “Taehyung, when are they discharging you?” You turn to the blonde. 

“Tomorrow morning.” Taehyung states. “Since it was just… You know. I don’t have to stay too long.”

“Tomorrow morning.” You repeat, thrilled at the prospect of returning to a normal life for as long as you can have it.

The rest of the day is spent relaxing, the three of you spending time together, filling your heart with warm memories. Taewon falls asleep early and you tuck him in, turning down the tv volume before Taehyung pats the bed next to him. You smile, sliding onto the cot and curling up next to Taehyung in the small space. 

“I can’t believe things are finally going to be back to normal.” Taehyung whispers into your hair, pulling you close.

“But for how long?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“Let’s not think about that right now.” Taehyung chides. “Let’s just be here. Together.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, smiling against your mouth.

“Tae,” You return his smile, tears slipping down your cheeks. There’s so much you want to say to him, so much you want to tell him… 

But it’s too late.

You’re too late.

Before you can see anything, you feel it begin, dancing around the edges of your mind.

The haze.

It’s here to sweep you away. 

“No, please. Not now.” Your voice is panicked as you sit up and Taehyung immediately catches on, alerted by your tone. “I’m not done!”

“Y/N, your eyes…” His own gaze widens in fear. “T-they’re white. Are you okay?”

You huff in frustration as you see it begin to creep in on the edges of your vision. You try to blink back your tears, moving your hand over Taehyung’s where it rests on your cheek, placing a kiss against his palm. “Thank you for everything Taehyung. I’m so sorry. Take care of Taewonnie.”

Realization dawns on his expression. “N-now? No, Y/N you can’t go now.” He tries to sit up, but the pain from his incision stops him from reaching for you. 

“Taehyung, I love you…” Your field of vision gets smaller and smaller, your limbs growing weak from the sensation. 

“No, please. I love you… Y/N, I love you!”

It’s the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with an unfamiliar sight and though it hurts, you know Taehyung is long gone.

And you loved Taehyung, with whole your heart and you couldn’t think of being without him anymore. He had become to be such a huge part of your life in such a short amount of time. He was the one who was always there for you when things got hard. The person who always made you smile when you were said, who took better care of you than you took care of yourself. He always knew the right things to say and he always made you smile if you were feeling bad, which was exactly what you needed today. You made your way back to your apartment which you shared since a month ago. It had been a big move from his side him, asking you to move in with him and get a place together. 

He had been so nervous, afraid you’d turn him down, afraid he was moving too fast. But the only thing you wanted to do was be close to him and since you didn’t saw him that often, living together seemed like the perfect solution to you. It had been a real adjustment though, being with each other during those crucial parts of the day, taking care of each other. But after you’d both gotten used to it, you both knew that you were perfetc for each other. You knew Taehyung inside and out, he was no longer a mystery to you.

As you finally got home you quickly made your way up the stairs. You noticed the light at the front door was off, and you frowned. Usually when he knew you were getting home late, he left the light on for you. You shook your head, telling yourself to get over it and act normal. He probably just forgot. Seemed like that history project had made you lose your mind. You sniffed at the thought. Looking for your key in your bag, you muttered softly underneath your breath. Feeling around for the metal before you found it and fumbled slightly to get the key in the keyhole in the dark. But when you threw the door open, you didn’t feel anything but relief, so happy to finally be home. 

You kicked off your shoes, too tired to loosen up the shoelaces and walked in. When you saw Taehyung lying on the couch with one of his arms covering his eyes your heard fluttered in your chest. He was the cutest thing you had ever seen, you couldn’t get enough of him. “Taetae…” You called out, waiting for any kind of reaction. Normally when you’d see each other after such a long day he’d sit up and look at you a little dazed, waking up by the sound of your voice calling out for him. Or he would smile with his eyes closed, trying to pretend he was asleep but not being able to hide his happiness because you were finally home.

But today he didn’t seem to show any kind of response to your return at all. He just laid there on the sofa, neither looking at you nor greeting you back. You frowned and immediately felt slightly worried by his behavior. Was he unwell? If so, then why hadn’t he called you? You dropped your bag on the table and made your way over to the sofa, slightly hovering over him to check on him. His face didn’t look pale, though the skin underneath his eyes seemed to have a slightly darker color than usual. He looked exhausted and for a minute you thought it best not to disturb him. He needed to rest, he and his members had gone through a rough time lately and you wanted him to think about his health. 

How he could function the way he did while taking naps in dressing rooms and while constantly being in the move remained a mystery to you. The last thing you wanted was for him to sacrifice any of his rest for you. As quietly as you could, you pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to tug him in. You let out a little squeal when suddenly someone grabbed a hold of your wrist and locked eyes with the guy in front of you. Taehyung blinked rapidly at you, as if he had no idea where he was at the moment and seemed seriously confused. You had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but he’d seemed to be pretty far off.

Then his eyes landed on you and he smiled softly, stretching his arms out in front of him and making a cute peeping sound while doing so. It made your heart melt. He let go of your wrist just as fast as he’d grabbed onto it and tried to sit up, but you shook your head, placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back down. “What are you doing?” He asked and shot you a questioning look while grabbing your hand and squeezing it inside of his own. That frown on his forehead, those dark circles under his eyes, that worn look one his face, it only made you even more. 

“Don’t get up TaeTae. You should sleep some more, you look exhausted.” You mumbled while giving his hand a little squeeze in return. He scoffed at you as he sat up, immediately letting go of your hand as he buried his hands of his hair, his elbows leaning on his knees. You had no idea where this sudden reaction came from, you just wanted to take care of him. “I’ll be fine __________.” He said but there was a slight sound of annoyance in of his voice which made you feel a little bit suspicious. Once again you shook your head and you tried to convince him to take his rest, telling him you’d be fine. But he blocked all your wills to help.

“I said I’m fine!” His voice raised slightly and stood up from the couch, shaking the blanket off himself which you had laid on him with so much care. His behavior bothered you. Normally Taehyung wasn’t someone who was this jumpy and frustrated all of a sudden. It was another reason which indirectly let you know that he was running out of energy. You didn’t want him to get a burn out or to cross the line with his body, he had to take better care of himself. “You’re not fine Taehyung.” You threw back and he looked at you with squeezed eyes, it was almost a slightly threatening gesture and you felt goosebumps appear all over your skin. 

“How can you expect to know that better than I know it myself?! I know myself better than you think __________, and I’m telling you that I’m feeling fine. Why are you being like this?” He asked it as if it was weird for you to react like this, as if you shouldn’t be asking him to take it easy. As if you didn’t see all of the things he went through. As if you weren’t there with him when he worked himself so hard he could barely stand. “I’m being like this because I’m worried about you, that’s why! Am I not aloud to get worried about you when I see you laying on the couch all exhausted? Is that so weird?”

For the first time in this conversation you raised your voice at him and he didn’t seem to react to that very well. Even though your shouting was the result of his own stubbornness, it seemed to make him even more thwarting than he had been at first. “I can take great care of myself you know!” His face was showing you the anger he felt by and you had no idea what you had done to deserve him treating you like this. Had you actually done something wrong? Had something happened which you didn’t know about? Why was he trying to push you away and shut you out? 

“Tae, I’m your girlfriend! What do you expect me to do?!” You asked, sounding completely desperate. You simply wanted to know why he was behaving like this. This was how he was. Where was your bright and bubbly boyfriend? He shook his head at you and wanted to walk away from you, but you grabbed the sleeve of his sweater and held him back. The action didn’t seem to make him much happier and he harshly pulled it out of your grip, making you pull your hand back in surprise. You cuddled your hand against your chest while eying him, waiting for him to say something.

Just when you thought he was about to apologize for his silly behavior he fired back at you. “As my girlfriend I expect you to understand __________, why can’t you do that?!” He was still raising his voice at you and you were scared the neighbors might be able to hear. The walls weren’t that think around here. “Then tell me what I should understand! Tell me what’s wrong Taehyung! What the hell is going on?” By this time you were trying to match the volume of his voice and the fact that you were both raising your voices against one other made that you were both getting carried away in this whole thing. 

You couldn’t believe you were having a fight over something like this. You didn’t even know what ‘this’ was. “Never mind, you wouldn’t get it anyway.” His voice was so cold that for a second you felt as if you were being iced over. Right, you wouldn’t get it, because after all you didn’t live in his world, you weren’t an idol. Even though his comment felt like knives cutting you, you still went on, you wanted him to tell you what was bothering him.“Taehyung, I’m your girlfriend! If I’m not able to understand you than who is?!” 

Did that title mean nothing to him? It wasn’t just showing up and looking pretty for him. It wasn’t just cooking for him or cuddling with him. It wasn’t just the kisses or the hugs or everything else. Being a girlfriend also meant trying to get your boyfriend through a hard time, trying to talk to him about difficult things, but it seemed like he wasn’t up for any of that right now. “I don’t know! Fuck, why are you being like this?!” He asked again as he pulled his hair in frustration and shot you a furious look. 

“Because I love you… That’s why.” The volume of your voice had dropped to a whisper and all of a sudden you felt really fragile, as if one more word would be enough to break you into a thousand pieces. A silence fell over the apartment and Taehyung just stared at you for a long time in silence. He stared into your eyes which were filled with tears by now. Then he let out a big and long sigh before dropping his arms next to his sides and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry __________.” he then said and you shook your head, as if you didn’t want to hear it.

“What does it matter? I wouldn’t get it anyway.” With that you got up from your spot on the couch and walked briskly past him towards your room, wanting to be away from this for a moment. Wanted to get him out of your bubble. If he was just going to burst it, then what was the point? But you felt a long and strong arm capture your waist. You looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears from falling as you realized he wasn’t going to let you go. He pulled you back into him until your back met with his warm chest and you pressed your lips together when a sob threatened to escape from your throat. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry princess, I’m just… I’m just so…” You knew he was struggling with his words so you waited for him to try and find the right ones. After a while he sighed and you felt his breath his against your ear. 

“I’m just so stressed and tired and I feel as if everything I’m doing is wrong and I just… I feel as like I’m useless. Have you ever felt like that before?” With a surprised look you slowly turned around to face him. When you did he had a sad look inside of his eyes. His face pulled together in a painful expression when he saw the tears on your cheeks and he pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands to wipe them away. “You’re not useless Tae, don’t you ever think that. You work so hard, you give your all and you would give everything to make everyone happy. I know that and I’m sure everyone around you knows it too. You shouldn’t pressure yourself that much.”

He closed his eyes and he looked so tired, so weak, so drained. You felt sorry for him, sorry that he always had to work so hard, that he had to push his body to the limits, that he had to give everything up to do what he loved. “I just feel as if I can’t do it anymore.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and you were overwhelmed when you saw tears in his eyes as soon as he opened them. “Taehyung…” You whispered barely audible and you placed both your hands on his cheeks. 

He stared into your eyes and you felt like crying along with him, seeing him like this, it killed you. “I’m sorry.” He said again, making you frown at him. “You don’t have to feel sorry. Everyone reaches this point at a sudden moment, this is your moment. It’s not your fault.” When the first tears fell from his eyes you pecked them away and when you pulled back you noticed he was smiling softly. You were glad you were able to make him feel better, even though there wasn’t much more you could do than talk to him.

“Why don’t you rest a little now? We’ve got the time.” He looked at you for a while before nodding. You were glad he was finally giving into your pleads. Once again you tugged him towards the couch and this time he willingly sat down. He looked as if he’d fall asleep as soon as his head would touch a pillow. You sat down beside him and without saying anything he placed his head on your lap and made himself comfortable. You giggled and pulled the blanket over him once again, knowing that this time he wouldn’t stop you. For a moment he played with your hand which was on his chest while your other hand combed through his bangs. 

Then his dark eyes looked up at yours, you sent him a soft look, one that told him everything was going to be okay, that you weren’t angry… That you understood. It seemed as if he had been looking for that because he smiled peacefully at you before closing his eyes. In no time his breath became regular, his chest rose and fell in a steady pace. While looking down on your boyfriend you brushed his hair out of his face and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I love you…” You whispered and thought you could see his eyes flicker for a moment before he quietly said. “I love you too…”

The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 

With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 

Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?

If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 

Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 

You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.

As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 

The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.

The doors open. 

You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 

Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.

Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 

When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 

This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.

There can be no sneering here. 

“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”

This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.

The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”

Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 

But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 

Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 

The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 

When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 

He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”

When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 

The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 

“Ugh, finally.”

The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.

“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”

You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 

The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 

You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 

If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 

You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 

“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 

“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”

You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 

“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 

You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 

Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 

Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 

Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 

To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.

Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 

“But the place is nice, right?”

You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 

“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”

His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 

“I mean…”

“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”

As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 

He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 

If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 

“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”

Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 

You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.

Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 

It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 

And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?

You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.

You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 

What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.

Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 

Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 

Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 

Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 

When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 

Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 

Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.

By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 

If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.

But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”

You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 

“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?

Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”

“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”

Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”

“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 

He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.

“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 

The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 

Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 

The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 

You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 

For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.

Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”

The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 

Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 

“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”

“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”

You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 

“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 

“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”

Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 

Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”

You resist the urge to scoff. 

“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 

“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”

If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”

It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 

The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 

“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 

“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”

“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”

“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”

“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”

You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 

Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.

“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.

“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.

“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”

“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”

“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”

Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”

“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”

“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”

You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 

Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”

You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 

Then, a camera flashes.

Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 

You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 

You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 

“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 

“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”

“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 

Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”

“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 

“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 

“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 

“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”

“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”

“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”

“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 

You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”

“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.

“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?

You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”

Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”

She hangs up. 

Well. 

There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 

At least the feeling is mutual. 

Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 

“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”

You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?

“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 

“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”

“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”

“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”

Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”

“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”

That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 

“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 

“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”

“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 

“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”

“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”

“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 

“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”

Fair enough. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 

Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 

“Deal.”

For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 

Like right now. 

“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 

“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 

“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 

You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 

“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”

You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 

Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?

“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 

“Okay.” 

You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 

By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 

Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 

“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 

“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”

“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 

Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 

You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 

“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 

“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”

“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 

“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”

Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”

“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”

“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”

You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 

The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 

You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 

“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”

“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 

“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”

“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 

“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?

“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 

Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 

“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”

You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 

“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 

You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 

Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”

“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 

“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”

You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 

“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”

You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 

Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 

When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 

But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 

Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 

To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 

“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 

“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”

“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 

You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”

Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 

He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 

“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.

The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 

“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 

Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”

“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 

“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 

“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”

“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 

“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 

“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 

“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”

The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 

“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”

Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 

“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”

“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 

“Deal.”

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 

The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 

Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?

“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 

“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 

You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?

He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 

You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 

“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 

“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 

“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 

“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 

You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 

At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 

If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.

It’s just life. 

Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 

And that makes you happy. 

The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 

Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”

The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 

“What?”

“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 

“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”

“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 

“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”

You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?

“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 

“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”

“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 

“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 

You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 

Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 

When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 

Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 

“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 

You fall asleep instantly. 

When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 

“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 

“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”

“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”

“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 

“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 

You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”

It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 

You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 

He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 

“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 

“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”

“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 

“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 

Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”

“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 

“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 

You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”

“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.

“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 

“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.

“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 

“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”

“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 

Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 

After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”

“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 

You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 

Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 

“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 

There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 

For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 

Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?

Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 

“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 

“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?

“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 

It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 

“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 

“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 

Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 

The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 

When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 

By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”

“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 

“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 

You grin. 

The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 

Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 

And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 

“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 

“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 

What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 

But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?

“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”

His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 

“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”

You look at him skeptically. 

“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 

You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 

“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”

“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 

“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”

“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”

Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 

You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 

“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 

He’s your husband.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 

But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 

Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 

You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 

Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 

Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 

Taehyung.

You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 

Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 

And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.

An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?

You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 

Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 

It’s an art studio. 

A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 

Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?

You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 

Who knew he loved it so much? 

You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 

That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 

“And what did I say?” You demand more. 

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 

And he understands that now, things are different. 

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 

Something that makes you want more. 

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him. 

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 

You both are. 

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 

A late morning call, then. 

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 

Well, that makes two of you. 

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?” 

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 

Almost. 

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 

Or so he thinks. 

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 

You know that everything will be okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was.