Chapter Text
He’d lost track of how many times he’d hit the replay button on his screen.
It was maybe the fourth track Yoongi had been working on that week; each and every one ending up as some muddled mess that barely resembled music. The growl of his stomach was the only telltale sign of how long he’d been holed up in his studio. Yoongi picked up his phone to look at the time. 3:07am it read. Not surprising either, there were a few messages from Taehyung.
Taehyung [11:26pm]:
Are you coming home anytime soon?
Taehyung [1:39am]:
I’ll take that as a no I guess
Taehyung [2:44am]:
Have you moved out?
Yoongi sighed and rubbed at the ache in his neck. He knew he was being unfair to Taehyung, but he needed the solitude of the Genius Lab to think. Things weren’t going well at work and it reflected at home. The two of them had been married almost two years and it had been really good—for a time. Somewhere over the course of the last few months, it became too overwhelming. And not in the way life does as you grow older, but as an all consuming thing Yoongi couldn't help but ignore and hope it went away.
It wasn’t even that things were wrong between Taehyung and himself, but they weren’t exactly right either. The number of fights between them had increased exponentially since the end of their LOVE YOURSELF tour. Right amidst the off season where they spent most of their time writing and producing their next albums.
All seven members had known that Yoongi needed his time alone, Taehyung was no exception. And he had been understanding of Yoongi’s process when it came to writing. But suddenly it wasn’t okay anymore and he didn’t understand how it had changed so suddenly. Maybe it was that he’d been taking advantage of Taehyung and his patience; maybe it was that he’d been so blind by his stress that he hadn’t known they were building up to this point; maybe it was that Yoongi hadn’t felt like himself in a very long time, hadn’t felt whole.
And here he was: sat at his desk, staring at the last three text messages from his husband and deciding whether or not it was even worth responding.
◆
It was three days later when a knocking came from the door to his studio. It was only about 7pm, but he hadn’t been expecting anyone regardless. Yoongi was surprised to see Taehyung behind the door, holding out a bag of take-out with an apologetic smile.
“When are you going to tell me the code to your precious Genius Lab?” He whined.
It took every ounce of Yoongi not to grit his teeth at that. “It wouldn’t be my precious Genius Lab if you did.”
“Jungkook knows it,” Taehyung pouted, but instead of eliciting a sympathetic response in Yoongi, it just annoyed him further.
“That’s because Jungkook knows how to respect boundaries.” He ground out.
Taehyung’s face immediately fell and he stopped short of crossing the threshold into the studio. Yoongi winced at the reaction, “I’m sorry.” He wiped a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that, of course you're welcome here anytime, Tae.”
His husband just nodded and took the few steps he could into the compact room. Taehyung set down the bag of food on the coffee table and sat down on the edge of the couch. “Why don’t you ever use the studio at home? I had it built specifically so you didn’t have to spend days in here.”
The question caught Yoongi off guard, “Well—I…you know old habits die hard and all that shit. This place is a safe space for me, it’s where I’m comfortable.”
“But you’re never home, Yoongi.” Taehyung was looking down at his hands, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “You’re never home and I have to sit in an empty house wondering if you’ve decided you’re over this…over me.”
He felt a deep pang in his chest at the words. Yoongi stood there, mouth agape, staring at his husband. “Taehyung…” Slowly, he closed the distance between them. “You know that’s not true, Tae. You know that I love you, but you also know how I am. I’ve always been like this; always become a little distant around this time.”
“But things are different now, Yoongi. You’re married, you’re supposed to change and grow with the person you love, not stay the same. If you loved me, you wouldn’t be doing this to me.”
Taken aback, Yoongi narrowed his eyes, “Doing this to you? Doing what to you? Working my ass off to make sure we have content for the next comeback? Doing what I love? ” He shook his head and backed away from Taehyung as their eyes made contact. He could see the hurt in the other man’s eyes.
“I just— I feel like I’ve changed so much and you’re not even trying to change with me.” Taehyung looked back down at his hands. “You’re stuck in your same old ways, but you need to realize that it’s not just you anymore. There’s an ‘us’.”
“Us?” Yoongi scoffed, disdain thick in his tone. “I wasn’t aware that marrying you meant I had to cater only to an ‘us’ from then-on-out. Completely forget all that I’ve worked for—everything that I’ve built—just for you? I’m sorry, but that’s not what I believe a relationship is about, Taehyung”
“Isn’t it supposed to be though?” Taehyung still didn’t look up. “Isn’t that what love is? I’d do absolutely anything for you, Yoongi. Even if it meant giving everything up.”
Yoongi shook his head, “No, Taehyung. That’s not what love is. Love is understanding and compromise, not blind devotion. I don’t expect you to change for me, I expect you to think about yourself for once.”
“But shouldn’t you want to change for me? Shouldn’t you realize that I’m lonely in that damn house?!” Taehyung was edging on hysterical, his voice lifting an octave. Yoongi watched as Taehyung threw his hand into his hair, gripping hard. “Help me to understand, Yoongi! How can you just forget about me?”
“I’m not forgetting about you, Taehyung. You need to calm down.” Yoongi leaned against the edge of his desk. “I’m trying to tell you that even though we’re married, we still have our own lives. We still have a job to do and can’t forget about that. I’m not saying relationships don’t grow and change—and yes, there are a few things I need to fix, but I’m not inclined to change everything about myself to fit your needs.” The last words hung between them with a bite.
He knew he was being harsh, but it was the same thing over and over. There wasn’t a conversation he could remember between them that didn’t involve him “abandoning” Taehyung in some way. Just last week, his husband broke down because Yoongi couldn’t make their lunch date. When really, Yoongi had landed an important meeting with a few big name producers and couldn’t miss the opportunity to get to work with them.
His career had always come first and Yoongi stood by the fact that it would come first for a long time. He hadn’t expected to fall in love with one of the other members, but it had happened and there was no turning back. Of course he loved Taehyung, he loved him so much that it hurt sometimes, but he had to think about himself too. They all did.
They signed on to do this thing for as long as they could. Yoongi knew it wouldn’t last forever and they’d all fall in love at some point and start thinking about the rest of their lives, but Yoongi wasn’t there yet. Taehyung went into this knowing that.
Maybe they really did get married too quickly. They had been seeing each other for a long while, not daring to let the world know about it until their engagement. It had rocked the Korean music industry for some time, but two years later they’d gotten over it. They were too successful for it to really matter anyway and so many people were supportive of them. Yoongi vaguely wondered what would happen if they were to divorce.
He shook himself out of his reverie, refocusing on Taehyung in front of him and realizing what his last thoughts were. Did he really think divorce was an option? Of course it wasn’t, Yoongi didn’t want that. He didn’t.
Yoongi scrubbed his face with his hands again, minutely noticing the pounding in his head. “I just— I don’t know what to say any more, Tae. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for acting like this, I’m just stressed out.” He breathed out heavily. “And I know that’s no excuse. Can we just—can we go home?” He looked over at Taehyung who was reflexively gripping the edge of the couch, tears streaming down his face.
“Don’t bother.” He croaked out—and with that, he left.