Archive of Our Own

KTH: Thank you for earlier.

Taehyung exhaled. It had taken some time to work up the courage to press send. There wasn’t really one member he messaged individually on a regular basis. More often than not, if it was worth telling one, it was worth telling everyone else in the group chat. Even so, had he needed to rank each member by the frequency of times they communicated through their individual KaKaoTalk chat, he knew Yoongi would have been near or in the last position.

It wasn’t a problem, because even now he only needed to go up a few exchanged messages to find the one that really healed his heart. Everything that came after the “I love you” of the last line of his cherished message was a bit banal. Simple things like questions about where the other was, or if the other needed food.

When Taehyung needed to see the three words, he usually made sure not to scroll up too much. Reading the full message still demanded a lot of him emotionally.

He also had complicated feelings about why it was he needed to see the words from time to time in the first place, specifically typed up by Yoongi no less. Maybe it was the rarity of it. Maybe it was because the message felt like the cumulation — a reward of sorts — of years of care and love poured into their friendship. Maybe it was simply because he’d regarded Yoongi specifically as an older brother figure for so long. No answer felt quite like the right fit, but he was happy that almost a full half-year later, it was still so easy to get back to the message.

And so, he weighed his decision carefully when he felt tempted to message Yoongi. It couldn’t be too often, or he’d lose track of the three words. He knew that he could simply take the screenshot, and move on. But, seeing it in the actual application, actually there amidst the words they shared with one another, that felt better than anything else.

He felt that, today, he could afford the short thank you. He thought Yoongi would understand without any context, but he’d still feel satisfied even if Yoongi didn’t understand at all. He just wanted to put the thank you out there.

It had been uncomfortable that morning when Seokjin had plainly told Sungdeuk he wasn’t going to support Taehyung’s weight in the intro of the choreography. There had been no accompanying reason, and Taehyung had understood that Seokjin really didn’t need one. But, Sungdeuk had insisted, and Seokjin had doubled down with a more insistent tone.

“What’s the point? If the camera is shooting him from above anyway, why are we holding him up?”

That had been the only time in the short argument when Taehyung had been directly referred to, Seokjin’s hand gesturing towards him. And he’d known it didn’t have anything to do with him personally. But, he couldn’t help but to feel heavy. Like an awkward weight that his friends couldn’t be bothered to shoulder anymore.

It was irrational, but as the responsibility bounced from one member to the next, the sensation intensified.

Namjoon had said, in a whine that might have been playful, but was still sincere, “Don’t make me lift him twice. I’m already lifting him later, I have to make it through the choreography, too.”

And that had been true, they had already worked on that portion of the choreography. And Taehyung did have to guiltily settle his full weight on top of Namjoon’s back.

Hoseok had retorted. And it might have sounded as a defence of Taehyung, but he couldn’t help but to think it made him seem like even heavier of a weight on everyone else’s shoulders.

“I lift him up twice, too! What do you mean?”

Sungdeuk had been quick to agree that Hoseok letting Taehyung rest his feet on his back at one point, and propping Taehyung’s back up at another point, was far removed from supporting Taehyung’s full weight twice.

And so, Namjoon had been out of the running, too.

Jimin had been sweet when he’d reached over and taken off Taehyung’s cap to ruffle his hair, saying, “I’d love to lift you up, Tae. But, I have to sing the next line. So, I don’t think I can, right?” He’d finished the question with his gaze settled on Sungdeuk. And that had been right, too.

Taehyung had been about to speak up and ask that he simply start the song normally, with his back on the floor, like everyone else. Like Seokjin had suggested. For some reason though, he felt his lower lip tremble. He kept silent, afraid he’d crack if he tried to speak. Which was a problem, because he didn’t really want Jungkook to lift him up. He was strong, but Taehyung still thought he overdid his physical routine on a daily basis. He didn’t want to be the one drop too much that made Jungkook’s cup overflow.

It came as a complete surprise when a voice from somewhere behind him spoke up. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll take hyung’s place and lift Taehyung up. Hyung and I are the only two who aren’t dancing during Namjoon’s verse. It’s not like we have to adjust the choreography in any way.”

Taehyung hadn’t even considered the possibility of Yoongi lifting him up. Though part of him was scared he literally was just too heavy for Yoongi to pull it off, the rush of relief had been immense. He couldn’t bring it up, but when he’d found that Yoongi had been intensely staring at his profile as he made the suggestion, Taehyung had known Yoongi had noticed he was getting worked up and upset. Taehyung knew that was the reason Yoongi stepped in without any prompting to do so.

The gesture was enough for Taehyung to plaster a cheery front back on in time for when the filming crew entered their studio to record for their behind the scenes. He was convincingly cheerful enough to make jokes about their new positioning; telling the others that Yoongi had once used him as a chair, and now the roles had been reversed.

But, Yoongi in No More Dream had almost never leaned any of his weight onto Taehyung’s back. He’d only mimed resting his full weight onto Taehyung, and usually settled a quick hand over Hoseok’s shoulder to distribute the weight. Taehyung realized, for the nth time, that Yoongi had this quiet care to the way he handled his relationships.

In any case, he’d been thankful enough for Yoongi stepping in, that he’d still been thinking about it as he’d slipped under his covers and had sent him the message.

Yoongi’s response had been typically caring and considerate.

MYG: You know, you weren’t just a chair the one time.

Taehyung hesitated to answer. Both because he didn’t want the “I love you” to move too far into their chat, and because he wasn’t sure of how much Yoongi noticed. He’d read the context of the thank you without any hint from Taehyung, but Taehyung wasn’t sure if saying he wasn’t the chair just the one time meant that Yoongi knew they’d performed the song a number of times. Or if it was because he remembered Taehyung in the same position in other choreographies.

MYG: You were a chair for our first stage. And then you were also a chair for our first music show win. I’m not going to let you make a career out of being a chair.

Taehyung had to think that, yes, supporting Hoseok’s weight in the I Need U choreography had been a little challenging. Only because he had to start on his stomach, and eventually had to push himself onto a kneeling position with Hoseok still settled atop him. A number of times, weakened by exhaustion, he’d crumbled under Hoseok’s weight and hadn’t been able to fully push himself up. Though Hoseok had always been apologetic in those moments, and would call for a break, Taehyung had always felt guilty for not executing the move correctly right away.

So, yes, he understood Yoongi’s reference immediately. He was just surprised Yoongi called it up to his own mind so quickly. Taehyung was wondering how to form a good enough response, when Yoongi’s third message came in.

MYG: The point of the I’m Fine choreography is also about supporting each other. There’s no reason to feel like a burden.

For the second time that day, Taehyung noted that his lips were wobbling with emotion. He forced himself to send out a “thank you, hyung” and to do his best to sleep right away, in hopes of prying himself up and out of the deep emotional state he was sinking into.

Sometimes, it seemed like Yoongi read him like an open book. It felt good to be understood, but it felt even better to be noticed in the first place.

Silently, Taehyung kept note that the “I love you” was now five messages further up than it had been at the start of the day.

Taehyung woke up confused about both the day of the week and the time of day. Everything was dark and silent. There wasn’t a light or a peep from Jungkook’s space, which was directly adjacent to his own bedroom. Thankfully, the sweatpants and the shirt he’d had on for rehearsals were more than appropriate to sleep in, but the metal of the simple silver bands around his fingers, and the pendant of his necklace resting over his chest felt overheated. As if the jewelry had seeped in all of the body heat that had escaped Taehyung while he’d slept.

He sat up in the bed, which was still made. The thudding of his heart felt a little fast and irregular. He still felt tired, but mostly confused and worried. They hadn’t forgotten him behind, right? He wasn’t missing an important part of their schedule, right?

Presumably, he’d fallen asleep with his phone in hand, because it wasn’t too far away from where his head had been resting. Not anywhere near the pillow, no; it seemed he had fallen asleep in the wrong direction. When he’d checked more than twice that his phone indeed read two in the morning, he felt a little better. The hot clammy feeling that had taken over him felt more like a cold sweat, and the feeling buzzing within his chest dulled somewhat.

Resting his eyes had turned into a three hour nap. His phone’s screen was illuminated by a number of notifications that had surely sounded loudly as he had slept the rest of his night away. He went through them diligently, with his mind slowly catching up to his surroundings.

When he got to his chat with Yoongi, it took him longer than usual to understand who the message was from.

MYG: I heard you skipped dinner. Don’t start skipping too many meals.

He had to carefully review the messages above to make sense of the sender’s identity. Even when it became evident that it was Yoongi, it struck him as strange to get another private message from him within the space of a week. He spent a moment or two looking carefully at the lines of the characters Yoongi had used. He felt almost too tired and disoriented to answer.

But, carelessly, he did. Not even sparing a thought for the time of the night,

KTH: I’m not! I fell asleep. I’ve been eating generously to make sure I don’t pass out atop of you in practice. Don’t worry!

It occurred to him that Yoongi might not understand what he meant. Going through the messages on top to understand what he was reading had put the “I’m Fine” rehearsals right back into his mind. And he had been forcing himself not to miss a breakfast or lunch by avoiding oversleeping and skipping out on any naps he might have snuck in during their lunch time.

Because pushing up into a bridge position on an empty stomach was sure to leave him dizzy. It just so happened that Yoongi was busy sliding beneath him while he was doing so. He couldn’t really think of a more nightmarish scenario than fainting and falling onto Yoongi’s beautiful face. He groaned, sounding mortified in the dark, even just at the thought of it.

MYG: Is that really you eating generously? A little more and my hands will circle your whole waist.

So Yoongi had understood. Worse, Yoongi had immediately answered, which meant he was somewhere within the dorm, still up and ready to tease Taehyung. And the worst part, probably, was that he remembered how it felt to have his hands on Taehyung’s waist.

Taehyung flopped backwards onto the bed, his head thrown backwards and off the edge of his mattress, phone dropped onto his chest. He wasn’t so sure why that was the worst part. In his mind, he’d hoped Yoongi holding Taehyung up was just something mechanical, and that Yoongi wouldn’t take the time to notice things about his body, like the size of his waist. After all, they’d all worked in close proximity in choreography for years. They’d all been put in awkward positions, where they felt just a little too close to one another. But by now, on stage, it always felt as if they were parts of the same whole. They were used to feeling each other’s presence to make sure they were aligned just right, and working together just right.

Taehyung, maybe, felt shy. Because he hadn’t really taken note of the way Yoongi’s hands had felt on him in that moment of the choreography. He was focused on watching his own hands, on delivering his lines, on moving his face just the right way to entice the cameras that would be on him before long.

He picked his phone back up with a defeated sigh.

KTH: First, I know that’s not true. Second, even if it is, I blame your huge hands, not my waist.

Maybe he couldn’t quite remember the way Yoongi’s hands felt holding him up, but he still knew the shape of Yoongi’s hands very familiarly. Yoongi had beautiful hands, almost intimidatingly so. And while he had not taken special note of the way they felt on his waist, he had noticed them a few times on the very next move of the choreography. Everyone was face down as Jimin delivered his lines. Jungkook’s hand was securely resting over his left ankle. And sometimes, Yoongi’s hand matched and rested over his right ankle. Most times, his hand was over the back of his thigh. And, on a few rare times where Yoongi probably struggled to flip over on time, his hand was just a little too high for Taehyung not to notice it.

And, in those rare times, he couldn’t very well pretend Yoongi’s hand didn’t feel large, and warm, and comforting.

He rolled onto his side, scooting back so he could be better centred on the bed. He had forgotten their text conversation now, and couldn’t be bothered to check if Yoongi had answered. He was suddenly very taken with the thought of what those hands could feel like around his waist. Were Yoongi’s hands really so large when encompassing his waist? How hard did Yoongi squeeze to make sure Taehyung was stable in his position? How did the heat of Taehyung’s body feel under Yoongi’s palms?

It took some work to convince himself that his thoughts had worked him up to an aroused state solely because they were focused on the idea of someone putting their hands on him, of touching him. He couldn’t relieve some tension before preparing for bed if he were to accept it was the thought of what Yoongi’s hands felt like on his body that got him hot and bothered. But, even when it was his own hands touching his body as his breathing became louder, his mind was still processing the memories he had of the shape of Yoongi’s hands, the way they moved, the way they looked like when they held on to something, anything. Maybe even Taehyung’s waist.

Afterwards, he blamed the episode on still feeling disoriented from his impromptu nap.

Taehyung really wanted his bed. Well, he really wanted more sleep. Once the music shows were truly over, they’d be launched into tour mode. Though the latter came with its own tiring aspects, Taehyung almost couldn’t wait any longer. That was why he wanted to optimize his sleep, give his best for their last performances on broadcast, and then get right to setting his mind to what it needed for their concerts. It was a little challenging with their current schedule, they’d even attended an award show after their recording the day before. Where they’d performed their title to boot.

Music Bank was over for the day though, and he’d managed to be assigned to the car that would seat only one of them — only with slight begging. Which meant he could easily catch a few more moments of sleep on the road home.

Instead, foolishly, he’d pulled up Naver TV on his phone to check for their performances. And, unluckily, they had already been uploaded. He’d managed to monitor his Idol performance twice before even remembering he’d wanted to sleep. Instead of following through with that thought, he tapped into the next video, their performance of I’m Fine.

As he watched the introduction, he was most focused on the rings of his right hand. He’d picked them out and bought them himself in Malta. He hadn’t been feeling his best during the trip, but wearing the rings always reminded him of the best moments he’d had there. It hadn’t been so long ago, but it already felt far away to him. Plus, he couldn’t help but to feel overly satisfied that his stylists had been more than approving of his selection.

It wasn’t much longer after Namjoon had started his rap that Taehyung’s thoughts strayed back to his opening lines. On stage, he almost never thought of it. But typically, later at night, he gave some thought to the way Yoongi had once again held him up by his waist. Even if he didn’t give himself time to notice it while it was happening, he was compiling more and more visual recordings of what it looked like to have Yoongi’s hands right there, settled over his waist for over ten seconds. He didn’t think he was being weird about it. It was just interesting to him. Not that he wanted to share his fascination with anyone else.

And so, he restarted the video, watching intently as Yoongi slid across the stage. Faintly, he noticed how large the rip in Yoongi’s jeans was. His entire knee, and a good portion of his thigh, was on display. The pale skin made even paler under the stage lights. His mouth felt a little dry thinking of brushing his fingers over the shape of his knee. Knees weren’t supposed to be attractive, so he determined that that was an appropriate thought to fantasize about. There wasn’t anything wrong with touching the skin of Yoongi’s lower thigh, or with longing to do just that.

It was in the middle of convincing himself that he was more than allowed to look at other people’s knees, that Yoongi’s expression caught his eye. The cameraperson had zoomed out just enough that Yoongi’s pale profile was visible under Taehyung’s form. And, just as Taehyung rolled off of him, Yoongi’s expression had contorted into one of pained effort. It was a challenge to even keep himself from gasping at the sight as Taehyung set the video five seconds earlier to watch again. Again, Yoongi’s face looked pained. Had Taehyung accidentally elbowed him? Kneed him? Was he so heavy that pushing him off brought that kind of exertion to Yoongi?

Again, he backtracked, watched the small moment in slow motion. The flash of hurt was only a second long, at most. Watching in slow motion was much more painful. There was no mistaking it, it was the effort of using his hands to flip Taehyung over that had made Yoongi cringe in such an apparent way.

He promised himself to watch it only once more, but this time he paused it at just the right moment and zoomed into Yoongi’s expression. Well, maybe from up close he found the expression a bit cute. Maybe, it was even a little erotic-looking, from some angles. Except, not at all, Taehyung told himself sternly as he quickly tapped out of the video player and opened up his chat with Yoongi.

What a dumb message to send. And it would push the “I love you” further up the chat. But, maybe he’d actually hurt Yoongi earlier. Maybe he hurt Yoongi every time, and the other was just too considerate and diplomatic to bring it up with him.

KTH: Hyung, I watched our performance earlier. It looked like I hurt you.

KTH: Did I hurt you? Why didn’t you say anything? :(

KTH: I’m sorry.

Sorry for potentially hurting him, not sorry for staring at the tear in his jeans. Or having perverted thoughts about his pained expression. He didn’t do things like that. Even though the messages that directly preceded the ones he’d sent now reminded him that he had done much worse than that a while ago, late at night over his bed covers.

He put the phone down miserably. He wasn’t really expecting an answer. Yoongi was in the same car as Namjoon. And if Yoongi was going to get chatty with anyone, it was definitely Namjoon. He’d see it later, and hopefully he’d tell Taehyung the truth about the matter.

At that point, finally, he almost managed to doze off. But the notification sound of KaKaoTalk brought him out of his reverie. He wasn’t sure if he was worried or relieved that the message was from Yoongi.

MYG: I can’t believe you noticed that.

MYG: Why’d you have to look at my face?

MYG: We can’t all have beautiful faces, Taehyung.

Based on the content of the messages and the pause that had preceded them, Taehyung guessed Yoongi had taken the time to pull up the performance to watch for himself. Which meant that Namjoon had probably watched as well. Taehyung felt beyond embarrassed.

Thankfully, he couldn’t languish over that. Yoongi’s last line of text was just too offensive to ignore.

KTH: But you have such a beautiful face?

KTH: I can’t even think of a face that’s more beautiful right now.

Had that been too much? It might have been. But, maybe it would simply read sarcastically. That wouldn’t be great either. Why had Taehyung even said that Yoongi had the most beautiful face?

Taehyung hunched forward, pressed his forehead to the back of the passenger seat. Even with some more time of reflection, his mind wasn’t offering any other face he could rank above Yoongi’s.

He turned his head, pressing his cheek to the leather of the seat. He would have been worried about his skin’s condition, but it was still caked with stage makeup. If anyone was going to come out of this damaged by the contact, it was the seat, not his face. He watched as the streetlights flew by the car. It was late enough that traffic was light. In the silence of the car, Taehyung felt quite alone.

He continued watching the city lights and landscape as he recalled the first year they had had as a group. On a day of recording, not unlike today, Yoongi and him had both slept side by side waiting for their turn on stage. When they’d woken up, just a bit cranky and a lot groggy, Yoongi had turned to him and had said, “You know, being around you is really like having the younger brother I never had.”

Upon first hearing it, Taehyung had been confused. Just confused enough that he still preserved the memory dearly. Because, maybe he was younger than Yoongi, and maybe he did take care of Taehyung, and maybe they were close enough, their mattresses directly adjacent in the room they had all shared at the time; but, he hadn’t really understood why he would be regarded in a more brotherly way than any other member. There were four others who were also younger than Yoongi. And maybe Taehyung had still played childish antics back then, but there was no way Jungkook hadn’t been obviously more youthful than he had been. Jungkook had been so young back then, even Taehyung had relished babying him.

Still, in a sleepy yet adoring daze, he’d said the words back, “and you’re like the older brother I never had.”

And after that, as if a spell had been cast, Yoongi had always most seemed like a bother figure for him. It hadn’t really mattered that almost everyone in the group was older than he was. Yoongi became the epitome of what it meant to be an older brother. And Taehyung tried to emulate Yoongi’s caring attitude in his own interactions with his younger siblings. He had assumed that Yoongi, too, saw him the most as a little brother.

But, now, Taehyung felt a little misled. Yoongi was starting to feel the least like a brother. He knew it wouldn’t be normal to see a sibling figure as the most beautiful person in the world. It wasn’t normal to yearn so much for them to tell you they loved you. It just wasn’t adding up.

Still, when he made it home and sat heavily on his bed, it was Yoongi who came to seek him out, to make sure he found the energy to shower and clean up before bed. And Taehyung hadn’t even thought of tensing up when Yoongi had squeezed his upper trapezius muscle. Yoongi often did that, to just about anyone, he would squeeze the muscles in their upper back to show some comfort and support.

Yoongi had whispered, “I’m fine, by the way. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t apologize to me anymore.”

Petulantly, Taehyung had agreed to it, with a small “alright”. He wasn’t sure if he felt in such a crestfallen mood because Yoongi’s behaviour showed he did indeed still see Taehyung as the younger brother figure.

Taehyung knew he shouldn’t have felt sullen about that. It wasn’t as if it would be any good if Yoongi saw him the way Taehyung was starting to realize he saw the other.

Yet, his heart felt as if it had soared in joy when Yoongi added, “also, thank you. Obviously, I also can’t think of anyone who can rival your beauty.”

“Oh no. No, no, no, please no. Not again.”

Taehyung had been enjoying a relaxing evening. they were finally done with broadcasts. Tomorrow, they were already off to Los Angeles. So he’d been planning on pampering himself for his last night at home. That had gone well enough that he was now in bed at a reasonable time. His hair was held out of his face by his headband as he waited the appropriate amount of time to remove the face mask he’d applied.

He’d thought he’d bury himself under his sheets, and then watch their latest performances to help himself visualize an even better performance for their shows. Both of their performances on Inkigayo would be in the opening numbers of the concert. They were important.

So what if he had kept I’m Fine for after Idol. So what if he’d already been planning on replaying the introduction after a full watch through. So what if he’d already planned for some self-love time after he was done with that? It was his last night in the comforts of his own bed. It just so happened that he needed something to do to kill the time needed for the face mask. It wasn’t as if there was a clear correlation between touching himself and thinking of Yoongi’s hands on his body.

And even if there had been a correlation, the plan was ruined anyway. He was too embarrassed to do anything like that. He kicked his legs against the blankets in agitation, throwing his phone off to the side as he grumpily slipped out of bed to throw out the face mask.

Today, when he had settled atop Yoongi, he had felt his shirt hike up, so he’d pulled it down. He thought he’d done it smoothly and discreetly enough, and he had. What he hadn’t felt was that his shirt had remained hiked up in the back.

There were several inches of his lower back visible on the screen. Much worse, and confirmed by Taehyung repeating the slowed down clip, was that part of Yoongi’s palm had been in direct contact with his skin. Near the end, it seemed that the shirt had been hiked even further up, probably by the part of Yoongi’s hand resting over the material.

He almost ran back to bed, eager to hide himself under the covers and maybe cry out his misery into his pillows.

He wasn’t so sure why it was such a catastrophe. Yoongi had seen a lot more of his skin, probably all of his skin. And there were hundreds of scenarios where their skin had touched in a more intimate manner. But, with Taehyung’s latest and excruciatingly slow realization of how he actually felt for Yoongi, the sight was devastating.

He had no good explanation for why he shot a message to Yoongi personally. He still made sure to keep track of how far up he’d have to scroll to find the precious message he’d received in the first half of the year.

KTH: Hyung :(

As he’d come to expect it, Yoongi’s response came in in a matter of heartbeats.

MYG: What’s going on? Did you need help?

KTH: I watched today’s performances :(

The answer took some more time to come after that. Taehyung guessed that it wasn’t because he’d lost Yoongi’s attention, but rather because the other was evaluating how to respond.

MYG: Was there something wrong with our performance?

KTH: My shirt rode up.

A long moment passed. Taehyung still kicked at his mattress for good measure.

MYG: It was fine, you pulled it down. It’s not like anyone saw your stomach.

KTH: Yeah, but I didn’t pull it down in the back.

MYG: PLEASE don’t tell me this is you apologizing because I had to touch your bare skin.

Of course Yoongi had understood quickly, when did that ever fail to happen?

KTH: Well, you did.

MYG: And I somehow survived. Crazy, I know.

KTH: I’m still sorry.

MYG: Taehyung.

MYG: There is not a person out there who wouldn’t feel privileged to touch your skin.

MYG: So, please. Cut the apology.

MYG: In any case, please just go to bed. We’re traveling tomorrow, and it’s best if you’re well rested.

They exchanged a few more messages, and Taehyung only slightly felt like kicking himself. On the one hand, he didn’t want to lose track of the “I love you” message. On the other hand, he had calmed back down as they had spoken. It was silly to feel embarrassed by just some of his skin. It wasn’t anything Yoongi had never seen or touched before.

It wasn’t anything that Yoongi didn’t find to be precious enough for people to feel privileged to touch.

Ultimately, Taehyung had decided he didn’t have energy to spend on any self-love. But, by the time he’d put his phone down, comforted and amused by Yoongi’s caring and teasing ways, he’d certainly felt more than willing and had had the strong desire to take care of himself anyway.

He shouldn’t have gone out.

It was late enough at night that he hadn’t crossed a soul. Besides, the hat, hood, and mask combo felt sure to safeguard him from anyone he might have crossed. But, he couldn’t justify to himself why he had left the apartment. He missed little things like roaming his surroundings freely. Surely, he didn’t miss exploring the streets at three in the morning like a ghost. That wasn’t a normal thing to do, and it didn’t even bring him any sort of joy.

He was back on their street now, almost home. Nonetheless, his heart felt heavy at the prospect of passing through the door. He didn’t want to be home. He wished the skies would open up and let some snow fall, just a few snowflakes would be fine. Maybe it would make him feel better.

Not that he had any reason to feel bad. It was just that the year was drawing to a close, and his mind was preoccupied with worries about the road that was ahead of them.

Shakily, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and brought up a now familiar chat window.

Yoongi and him, well, they had been texting a lot. They communicated via text almost as much as Taehyung did with his father. He didn’t have any excuse to do so, given that they both lived and worked together. The frequency in their messages had grown recently, too. The last time they had performed their concert had been at the start of the month. The next time wouldn’t be before mid-January. And that had alleviated Taehyung of some guilt. They hadn’t even rehearsed I’m Fine in a while. It was a good thing because, by now, Taehyung found that he was almost obsessed with remembering the feeling of Yoongi’s digits. Whether it be digging into the skin near his hipbones, or squeezed over the back of his thigh a moment later. He needed to work harder on burying that part of himself. But, for now, he let himself go and enjoyed how often Yoongi reached out to talk to him.

And for right now, he just needed the one thing. He needed the message from he beginning of the year. He’d even read the full message preceding the “I love you”. He was convinced it would be just enough to help him catch his breath again, pass their home’s threshold, and then sink into much needed sleep. He just needed to see the words again.

But, he scrolled and scrolled, and did not reach. He only felt guilt, relating bits and pieces of conversations to this or that day of concert or performance where he had felt this or that way about how Yoongi had held him up. The trembling of his fingers had amplified just enough that he was struggling to move up the chat.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered to himself, tapping back to the latest message.

Their latest conversation had been this morning, before their workday had started. Yoongi had sent him this English sentence “cheer up, buttercup”. And then the conversation had centred on what that meant. Yoongi said he liked the sentence, because it rhymed, and buttercup was a pretty little yellow flower. Taehyung read it as Yoongi sensing that his mood had been foul lately. He was touched both by Yoongi reaching out to comfort him and willingly comparing him to a flower he’d called pretty.

But, if the words had brought a warm feeling to his chest that morning, they did little now. His chest felt like a cold, empty cavern. It took him a few tries to get the characters typed in correctly.

KTH: Hey, could you tell me you love me.

That was fine. It didn’t read alarmingly. Maybe it would read teasingly, despite the late time. He stood there for a while, wondering if he should push himself to go home anyway. It was very likely Yoongi wouldn’t answer before morning. His feet felt glued to the pavement though, unable to take a step forward.

He wasn’t sure why he had doubted Yoongi’s reply time. So far, he’d never left Taehyung waiting for long. And once again, the answer came after a few minutes. And based on that reply, Taehyung guessed Yoongi would have answered even sooner, but had checked his room first.

MYG: Hey.

MYG: Where are you?

MYG: I’ll come get you.

So much for not sounding alarming then. Taehyung sighed, but his chest was feeling a little less numb and frozen over already.

KTH: I’m fine, hyung.

MYG: Where are you?

Taehyung didn’t know how to reply. He felt so stupid. What was he supposed to tell him, that he was outside in the cold just because? Just because he felt weird and like he couldn’t think and things just felt a little too much for him in the last couple of days? Now that would be alarming. It wasn’t anything he could burden the others with. Especially not Yoongi. Who he’d been fantasizing about for months now, like a creep.

His breath came out as shakily as his typing then. Maybe that was part of his current distress too. These confusing and overwhelming feelings about Yoongi.

MYG: What’s wrong?

MYG: Come home and I’ll fix you something to eat.

MYG: We don’t have to talk about it, and I won’t ask.

He felt himself tearing up, guilt eating at him. Yoongi was still the sort of person who’d get up in the middle of the night and cook something for him and sit there in silence with him, if only to make sure he was doing alright. He sniffed noisily, trying to find the strength to type something that sounded a bit more reassuring.

KTH: Ok.

Alright, so not his best work. He took in another difficult breath. Instead of finding something comforting to say, he found himself typing his sincere wish once more. 

KTH: Could you still tell me you love me?

MYG: I love you.

MYG: So much.

MYG: Come home and I’ll say it to your face.

He laughed out loud, the sound ringing disused in the quiet of the street. It didn’t feel so bad right now. His feelings felt pure for Yoongi. He just wanted to be home and close to him. Reading the loving words was much better than feeling Yoongi’s fingers on him. He should focus on that love. Definitely. There was no point focusing on a touch that, for all intents and purposes, meant nothing. Yoongi was just doing his job in the choreography. It had been Taehyung who had twisted it into something it wasn’t.

He headed home before those thoughts could spiral any further.

It was a busy day. An even busier month. Taehyung didn’t actually have time to stare the pictures down for so long. He was going to have to post something anyway. He didn’t have a backup plan. Maybe he should’ve been looking into a substitute post instead of fixating on the assortment of pictures. He’d selected the four pictures. He’d selected them months ago. And he knew they were too much not to share.

Still, he had to find something to put in for the caption. There was a lot that came to mind when he looked at the photographs, but nothing he could readily share with the public. Hell, it wasn’t even something he wanted to share with people he knew personally. Maybe it wasn’t even something he wanted to share with Yoongi.

He tossed his phone to the side, but not before discarding the tweet. It would be awkward for another member to find the draft. It would be even awkwarder if he decided to post something else after all. And it would absolutely be the awkwardest moment if Yoongi were the one to see it. It was fine, it would be easy to upload the pictures again if he opted to go with them. He knew very well where he had them saved on his phone.

He made his way to the kitchenette area. They probably had about a ten minute margin to celebrate with Yoongi over his birthday cake before continuing practice.

He’d felt a little betrayed when Jimin had passed by his room that morning to wake him up, and had specifically requested for Taehyung to prepare the cake later in the day. There hadn’t even been an excuse. Taehyung didn’t think he could remember the last time Jimin hadn’t prepared the birthday cake personally. After a lot of complaining, he’d gotten “it’ll mean a lot to him if it’s you!”

Which had felt like a lot of pressure. And had also kind of felt like Yoongi might still see him most as the younger brother of the group. Why else would Taehyung’s specific preparation be of any significance? And so, Taehyung had more or less harassed Namjoon in the morning to convince him to help with the preparation.

Thus, he swapped the stress of selecting and perfecting the ultimate birthday tweet for the pressure of putting Yoongi’s cake together.

His preparation, in the end, consisted of sticking in the candles haphazardly, under Namjoon’s watchful gaze. Jimin even managed to assist with lighting the thing.

He’d been strangely nervous carrying and presenting the cake. That, however, had quickly become an afterthought when Yoongi had smiled at him. Sweetly, gently, as if Jimin had been right and it was extra touching to have Taehyung carrying out the cake.

Maybe he’d sort of hoped that Yoongi would answer the offer by telling Taehyung he loved him. Then again, they had more than one camera on them as Yoongi received the cake. Strangely enough, Taehyung didn’t really think he’d be bothered by the cameras capturing it. That should have felt odd, given that he was nervous typing anything like that up for his birthday message. But, facing Yoongi’s smile, which looked so devoted in its own quiet way, he felt that a public declaration of love could have been acceptable.

Since December, Yoongi had been a lot more forthcoming about telling Taehyung he loved him. Sure, it was mostly over their private chat. But, that felt like more than enough. It wasn’t a daily thing, yet. Taehyung sort of believed that it could grow into a daily practice, though.

And because Yoongi had smiled at him so sweetly, so enticingly, Taehyung had almost felt no embarrassment at all as he had interrupted Yoongi’s live broadcast to the fans. Then, he’d been even more shameless in egging Yoongi on to say he loved him directly on air. Twice, to boot!

That had given him enough of a high that he’d just tweeted the pictures without worry, captioning a comment on how he enjoyed it and thought Yoongi should tell him even more often that he loves him.

That had been that. As much as he loved Yoongi and considered the birthdate an important day, his day was still mostly rehearsal, practice, recording, and other work-related activities. He’d nearly forgotten that he’d gotten Yoongi to smile at him just the right way, gotten Yoongi to tell him he loved him in front of the whole world, and even shared some of his favourite pictures of Yoongi with the world afterwards. He’d just spent over three hours in the recording studio, diligently taking notes from producers, and offering his own input where he had any. No matter the experience he gained over the years, those sorts of sessions were just as draining as they had been when he was nothing but an aspiring rookie.

He left the studio at a slow pace, his muscles feeling tired and sore from spending a good chunk of the day going over choreography, and then staying put in a studio for a period of hours.

He’d been about to get into the car that would drive him home when he finally remembered to check his phone for updates. Like always, there were many. But, the one that stood out was his chat with Yoongi’s familiar notification. It was then that he remembered his tweet.

He trotted outside briskly, asked the driver about the whereabouts of other members. When he found that Seokjin was still inside recording, he explained he’d wait for him to come out to head home together.

With that, he traced back his steps to the inside of the building, taking a seat near the entrance and opening the chat excitedly.

MYG: What’s up with those pictures you posted?

KTH: What do you mean?

It took a bit longer for Yoongi to answer. The driver hadn’t mentioned that Yoongi was still at work, but he could have told management he was camping out in the studio for the night. Or, if he were home, he might have already been in the shower.

Still, he had time to go through the other messages he’d received, and soon he was back to analyzing Yoongi’s profile in the photographs he’d posted. What was up with the pictures? Taehyung didn’t know how to answer. The pictures were beautiful. Yoongi wasn’t looking at the camera, but his face looked perfect. When Taehyung looked at these, he even thought to himself that Yoongi looked unfairly beautiful. The field of colourful plastic flowers surrounding him was just the perfect ethereal setting to highlight that beauty; so was the backdrop of the pastel sky.

He couldn’t really answer any of that to Yoongi’s question.

Thankfully, Yoongi answered before Seokjin was out of his session. Recently, he had a hard time not giggling or smiling fondly at his phone when answering Yoongi. It was embarrassing to realize it, but he knew he’d be more embarrassed if others picked up on it, too.

MYG: Well, they’re not exactly embarrassing photos, are they?

KTH: Well, no. But, no one else posted embarrassing pictures either, right?

MYG: Idk. Yours just feel different.

Taehyung licked his lips. He still wasn’t sure how to answer. In the end, he opted for the simple answer.

KTH: This is just the way I see you, hyung.

It was as Seokjin stepped out of the elevator that Taehyung received Yoongi’s next message.

MYG: I love you, too.

When Seokjin asked him why he looked so flushed, Taehyung made up some weak excuse about feeling feverish.

The most disappointing moment of the new year was that the I’m Fine choreography was cut in Bangkok. Well, no. Taehyung could admit that the weather conditions had made it impossible, and that he had been grateful that they would perform in a safer way instead. But, these were their last concerts before the new leg of the tour. And unless there were some miraculous last minute changes, they definitely would not be performing I’m Fine in that next leg.

He barely remembered the moment in the Hong Kong shows. Yoongi probably would never wrap his hands around his waist again. He hadn’t made the best out of it at all. He’d wasted half of those performances feeling guilty and embarrassed, rather than warm and loved in Yoongi’s hold.

Maybe it was a dumb thought or regret to have. But, it was still somewhere in the back of his mind as he paced his hotel room. Despite the busy schedule they’d maintained as soon as they’d hit American soil, he was up and suffering from jet lag. They’d be flown right back to Korea for the remainder of their promotions anyway, he figured as long as he wasn’t worn out for their performance on air, he would be fine.

He also had the feeling it wasn’t just jet lag keeping him up. It would be their second time making their comeback live on air, and it was just as stressful as last time. Performing live, in a foreign setting, with a new performance no one had seen yet; it made for a lot of uncertainty. Thankfully, it was always the seven of them on stage, and he could count on the others to support him. But, he was feeling on edge. He wanted to do well. And he wanted to feel Yoongi’s hands on his waist again.

He groaned, almost angry at himself now, and launched himself back onto the bed. He reached for his phone, where he’d left it on the pillow, where Yoongi’s message was still waiting. Yoongi had asked him, two hours ago, if they could bring him back anything to eat. He couldn’t quite remember who Yoongi had gone out to get food with; it might have been Hoseok and Seokjin. Taehyung had sort of lost track of the other members as soon as their day’s schedule had wrapped up. He had had a lot of messages of congratulations on the album from home he wanted to answer. And he had, carefully so. Yet, he’d failed to order any food as the night progressed. His stomach felt too tied up.

It still felt tied up. What he wanted to answer Yoongi was that he just wanted his hands on his body again. Preferably, not in a choreographic instance.

Instead, he answered:

KTH: Are you back? Can you come by my room before you go to bed?

Apparently, that was all he had to say. Because, not even ten minutes later, Yoongi was knocking at his room’s door. He was still in an oversized sweater and skinny jeans, as he had been earlier. The sight was so achingly familiar that Taehyung almost fell into his arms without a word. Instead, he kept his distance, gestured for Yoongi to sit on his bed. He did, but Taehyung only kept pacing.

“Ah, so you’re nervous? That’s why you skipped dinner again?”

Again? The memory of Yoongi asking him about a skipped dinner felt almost foreign, too far away to properly identify. He couldn’t place it anymore.

“A little, I guess.”

“Did you just want us to hang out until you feel better?” Yoongi asked him carefully.

Taehyung sighed, feeling aggravated. He remembered now. The last time Yoongi had asked about his dinner, they’d still been learning the I’m Fine choreography. Yoongi had commented on his waist, and then Taehyung had commented on his hands. And afterwards… he could finally admit to himself that, afterwards, he had jerked off to the thought of Yoongi’s hands on him. And that had probably been the beginning of the end.

“Do you feel like I’m your younger brother?” Taehyung questioned back, in a tone that was just short of hysteric.

“Do I feel like you’re my younger brother?” Yoongi repeated back slowly, as if confirming that Taehyung had picked the right words. He seemed at a loss though once Taehyung nodded solemnly.

“Like, that’s how you see me? In relation to you, I’m like your younger sibling?”

Yoongi looked a little uncomfortable now, which sent Taehyung right back to pacing. He couldn’t recall Yoongi ever wearing that sort of expression when it was just the two of them.

“Who told you that I did?” Yoongi’s words were softly spoken, curious but somehow fragile.

“You did.” Taehyung answered briefly. Yoongi’s unimpressed look prompted him to elaborate. “When we were younger. You said being around me felt like being around the younger sibling you never had, or something.”

Yoongi crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “I won’t lie to you, I don’t remember that exact moment. But, I remember how I felt back then. We weren’t the closest back then, right?”

Taehyung frowned. They were close enough that he had heavily relied on Yoongi at times. They shared food, laughed hysterically together, sometimes shed a tear or two of frustration together. They’d been close, even then. And he said as much.

“We were pretty close.”

“Sure, but out of all of us, you weren’t the person I was closest to. And you were closer to others, too.”

“I guess that’s right,” Taehyung agreed hesitantly. He’d frozen up now, no longer moving back and forth before Yoongi.

“Right. But I always felt like I was closest to you.” When Taehyung’s expression remained blank, Yoongi let out a self-deprecating sound, hanging his head forward a bit. “So, anyway. Back then, I just figured I must have viewed you as like this younger brother, or something.”

“And that’s how you see me now?” Taehyung insisted, not quite grasping the meaning behind the words.

“No. I’ve figured out how I actually see you, ages ago. And it’s not as a younger brother.”

His eyes were intense as they settled on Taehyung. And Taehyung still didn’t quite know if they were speaking of the same thing, but he was determined as he walked forward. He stopped right before Yoongi. Somehow, his gaze was enough to convey that Yoongi should stand up.

“Hyung, uh…” He reached out for Yoongi’s wrists then, holding them weakly. “Could you maybe hold my waist?”

Yoongi didn’t ask why. Actually, Taehyung found he rarely asked Taehyung questions, easily went along with whatever it was Taehyung needed or had asked for. And now was no different. He pressed his hands to Taehyung’s sides, squeezed gently, and said nothing more as Taehyung still held on to his wrists.

“So the thing is,” Taehyung tried to start off with, but quickly faltered and came to a stop. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to express his feelings. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to do that.

“It’s alright, take your time.”

Yoongi’s gaze was loving, and unassuming. Taehyung imagined his heart getting squeezed into a tighter space as he swallowed nervously. He really did love Yoongi, and he tried to say that much at least.

“I just, I just love you. I love that you support me, and that you love me, too. And I love that you care for me, and watch out for me.” He licked his lips, then shut his eyes tightly. “And I love how I feel when you have your hands on me. I miss feeling your hands on my waist. I mean, I guess you do have your hand on me in our new song at some point, too. But it’s just the shoulder. And you touch my shoulder all the time in the real world. And I’m just sad that you won’t ever hold my waist again. Because you don’t hold my waist in the real world.”

“Woah, slow down there,” Yoongi interrupted with a light laugh. The laugh itself sounded a little amazed, and the sound was nice enough that Taehyung allowed himself to open his eyes. “I’m holding your waist right now, aren’t I? Last I checked, we’re still in the real world.”

“Only because I asked you,” Taehyung mumbled.

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t do anything you ask me? Or that I don’t love doing it?” Taehyung maintained an embarrassed silence, and Yoongi laughed again. “I know that you know I love you, too. I say it a lot now, don’t I? You even make me say it in front of thousands.” Yoongi’s tone grew just a bit more serious then. “And I really love the way you see me. I don’t think anyone else sees me the way that you do.”

Despite his best efforts to not react too strongly, Taehyung felt it as his eyes grew wider, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips trembled just slightly. He wasn’t going to cry over this. He couldn’t cry before tomorrow. The makeup artists would be so disappointed in him.

“Aw geez, don’t make that face,” Yoongi said as he shook him playfully.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispered, his voice brittle already. “Would you say you love touching me, too?”

Yoongi squeezed his waist just a little harder then.

“I love being close to you. And I love that you still haven’t let go of my wrists.”

Taehyung laughed, just a little scared that it would tip over into tears. And then, he leaned in closely, pressed their foreheads together. They stood there for a good moment, just breathing each other’s air. And Taehyung could only say that it felt right, natural.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted to kiss Yoongi, too. He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask for anything like that though, and so he simply pecked Yoongi’s cheek. He was surprised when Yoongi pressed a kiss to his own cheek in return.

“Alright, come here,” Yoongi told him as he stepped away.

Taehyung followed after, like a boat trailing towards a lighthouse. And soon, they were both in Taehyung’s bed. His head was resting over Yoongi’s shoulder, his leg thrown over Yoongi’s, and Yoongi had kept an arm around his waist. He was busy playing with his hair with his free hand.

Taehyung wasn’t worried about their performance at all.

“No more thinking I’ll only hold your waist if Sungdeuk tells me to, got it?”

Taehyung nodded, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s torso and squeezing tightly.

There was a lot of work ahead of them. The love they had received in the short few days since their newest release was more than enough to help Taehyung keep his head up. Yoongi sneaking into his room as he’d been packing his stuff up after their appearance on the late night show was another strong motivator. They’d kissed each other’s cheeks again, had pressed their hands to each other’s chests, their shoulders, waists, backs. It was intimate in an unspoken and subtle way. They’d both been all smiles when their eyes had met as they’d filed into different cars heading towards the airport this morning.

Thankfully, they wouldn’t be using an entrance in the public’s eye for their departure. Taehyung would only have to worry about his appearance and interactions with the media once they were back in Korea.

And so, he’d allowed for some emotion to play out on his face as they had made their way towards security.

He was happy, but he couldn’t help but to also be a little worried. He didn’t actually have that clear of a picture of where he stood with Yoongi. How did Yoongi actually regard him? It hadn’t been spoken in so many words.

And even if Yoongi wanted to kiss him as badly as Taehyung did, what good could come from that? Even without the overwhelming fame, he wasn’t sure if it could be a good thing in his life. Surely it felt like a good thing. He had felt so happy expressing his love for the other through quiet touches. His family wouldn’t really shun something that brought him this much comfort, right? But, what of Yoongi’s family? What of Yoongi in the first place?

He’d zoned out, only coming back into focus when he noticed Yoongi gesturing towards his phone, signalling for Taehyung to pick his up.

Surely enough, there was a three word message waiting for him.

MYG: I love you.

He couldn’t help himself, even though they were in a more public area now. He wrapped his arms around Yoongi, and leaned his chin down over his shoulder.

“Me, too!” He replied out loud, back to a bright smile.

It brought a chuckle out from the managers nearby. Maybe the laughter should have prompted Taehyung to step back, give Yoongi his space back. But, instead, he held him tighter to his chest, their walking now slowed down by the position.

“Good. So don’t worry now. There’s nothing we can’t accomplish together. I think we’ve already proven that a number of times.”

Taehyung hummed his agreement. He also pressed a light kiss to the back of Yoongi’s neck before stepping back.

“As long as you love me.”

He was almost surprised when Yoongi put an arm around his waist, pulling him closer to his side.

“I’ll keep saying it so that you don’t forget that I do.”