Archive of Our Own

It’s half past midnight.

Yoongi opens the bottle of Yamazaki and pours himself a generous inch of whiskey into a glass he’d set on the table earlier. He downs it in a series of quick swallows, tipping his head back and grimacing as he feels every drop of alcohol burn its way to his stomach. Only a small grunt escapes his lips as he refills his glass. 

He frowns. Taehyung hates it when he drinks. 

Yoongi lets out a humorless laugh that sounds too loud in the silent room. It’s ugly, foreign to his own ears.

Taehyung isn’t here, so what does it matter?

Without missing a beat, Yoongi quickly finishes his second glass. The blood rushes to his head, heating him up from chest to cheeks, and he can already feel some of the alcohol’s effect as his racing mind slows to a sluggish crawl. 

But it doesn’t get rid of his thoughts altogether. 

Yoongi pours his third, a larger portion than before from a slightly unsteady hand, nearly spilling in his unusual clumsiness. A quick spike in adrenaline wakes him up briefly as he makes sure the bottle stays upright before he takes another mouthful. He’s starting to feel a little dizzy. 

It had been so good in the beginning. Good, even with their ups and downs, or maybe because of it. Loving passionately, fighting passionately, making up passionately. Repeat and repeat and repeat. Isn’t that what couples did? 

Care. Care to love, care to fight, care to make up, care to repeat.

Nursing his glass, Yoongi curls into the couch, the loveseat that shouldn’t really be considered a loveseat because it’s too small for two people to fit comfortably. The one that wasn’t to Taehyung’s tastes at all whatsoever but the one they’d kept because it was Yoongi’s favorite spot in the apartment. He napped there, read books there, sometimes just sat there with a cup of coffee. Taehyung had likened him to a cat. 

Kitten , Taehyung had started calling him. Yoongi had protested, insisting that it was simply inappropriate for someone as young as Taehyung to call him anything other than hyung , but he not-so-secretly liked it and Taehyung knew it. 

Hey, kitten, how was your day?

You’re such a cute little kitten, hyung.

Kitty cat, were you lonely without me?

Ridiculous. Yoongi stares at the amber liquid as he swirls the whiskey in his glass absentmindedly. He can almost feel the gentle fingers threading through his hair like they used to, the phantom press of lips against his temples. 

When had things started becoming like this? 

They didn’t even talk much anymore, much less fight, empty words thrown at each other to shut down the conversation as quickly as possible, tired of arguing, of putting in effort. Sorry, you’re right, one of them would say, a meaningless phrase that said less than nothing at all. And it would end there, neither of them really speaking, neither of them really listening. They were barely civil to each other, just barely tolerating each other’s existence.

Why did they bother with this farce?

Yoongi snorts derisively, pale fingers tilting the glass dangerously close to spilling its contents before righting it. He repeats the motion, drunkenly entranced by the motion of the liquid. 

He didn’t know what it was like for Taehyung, but he knew his answer. He clung on to their shattered relationship like it was a lifeline, trying to protect the fragments from breaking apart any further, not wanting to say the wrong thing, so choosing not to say anything at all. The more it fell to pieces, the less Yoongi knew what to do, always making the wrong choice that would only end up hurting the two of them more.

Yoongi finishes his third glass and sets it down on the table. He contemplates having another, but he needs to be able to stay at least a little coherent, so he convinces himself not to have it just yet. His eyes glaze over, dragging from the bottle on the table to the door where his bags are packed neatly, reluctantly, like a statement of war. 

More like a statement of surrender, of defeat, of the end.

So many years of being together. And so many years of friendship before that. For that to come to an end, it was like cutting off a part of himself - who was he without the man whose life had become so entangled with his own? He’d lose his childhood friend, the boy he’d grown up with and gone through so many of his life’s milestones with, his best friend, his lover. 

His everything. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers to himself, covering his eyes with his arm, sinking into the couch. Even as the world spins under his closed lids, he wants nothing more than to grab another glass to take him to oblivion.

The truth is that Kim Taehyung is the only person Min Yoongi loved, loves, will ever love. 

He doesn’t know at what point things started changing out of his control. Looking back at everything, he couldn’t pinpoint a single event that broke them, just the accumulation of discontent and hurt and pent up frustrations that began morphing the love between them to apathy and inevitable fatigue. It was enough for him to feel tired of their relationship, despite loving Taehyung more than anyone, more than anything in the world. 

What he does know is that he will never be as happy with anyone as he was with Taehyung, even with the situation they were in now. He knows Taehyung is the only one for him, no matter how much the younger male hurts him. That’s just how Yoongi was. Wholly devoted to the one and only person that mattered.

But they’d dragged this on for long enough. 

It was time to let go.

The unmistakable clicking sounds of the key sliding into the doorknob makes Yoongi get up in his seat, frowning as his eyes tried to adjust. There’s a little bit of the usual struggle to open the door, and then-

“Hyung. You’re still up.”

Taehyung’s deep voice is tainted with surprise first, then distaste, and Yoongi shrugs. 

“Was waiting for you,” he answers coolly, moving to pour himself another glass. When his vision clears, he looks up at Taehyung, whose lips are pursed into a grim line, eyes narrowed.

How interesting that Taehyung looks more beautiful now than ever. Standing there stone-faced, glaring at him so disdainfully, Taehyung shouldn’t have been able to take his breath away, to cause his heart to beat faster, to make his chest hurt so. But what people said about rose-colored glasses must be true, because Taehyung simply appeared to him like he did in the beginning, like he always did. Perfect. 

You’re drunk , Yoongi reminds himself.  

“Well, I’m just gonna go to bed now anyway. You didn’t have to wait.” Taehyung takes off his shoes and starts to walk away from the conversation without a second thought. Yoongi’s lips quirk up with self-deprecation. 

“Can’t we talk?”

Taehyung stops in his tracks. “About what? It’s past midnight.”

“Humor me, Tae,” Yoongi says, hearing his words slur a little. He clears his throat and wills himself to focus. These aren’t the thoughts of a drunk man. It’s the drunk man who simply has the courage to say the words that the sober one can’t. Taehyung probably can’t tell the difference, but Yoongi knows.

“Are you going on a trip or something? You could have just texted me.” Taehyung raises his brow, coming to stand in front of Yoongi. He corks the whiskey, taking the glass from Yoongi’s hand and setting it far enough away from Yoongi that he can’t simply grab it. His arms are crossed tightly, posture screaming his annoyance.

Yoongi laughs softly, running a hand through his hair. Taehyung smells like someone else - Yoongi knows whose scent that is - and there’s a telltale hickey starting to bloom near Taehyung’s collarbone, one barely hidden by the neckline of his loose shirt. It’s become more and more obvious lately, as if Taehyung truly didn’t care whether Yoongi knew it or not. 

Like a string about to snap, threads fraying, like the desperate few fingers that try to keep someone from falling off the edge of a cliff, like a driver’s frantic maneuvering of the wheel when a car slips on ice, Yoongi feels panic - the end - nearing like a palpable sensation at his throat, like someone is trying to choke the life out of him.

“Things were really good between us. Do you remember that?” 

Taehyung sighs. “Talk to me when you’re sober.”

“Just listen , Tae. Please,” Yoongi mutters, setting his elbows on his knees, forehead in his palms. He can’t bring himself to look at Taehyung properly right now, knowing full well what he is about to do but being scared of it anyway. He’s been thinking to himself for so long, trying to rehearse this scene, bracing himself for the inevitable, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. 

“Okay, what is it.”

“You think I’m drunk, and maybe I am a little bit, but I had my thoughts laid out before I started drinking, so don’t just dismiss it like I don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

There’s only silence as an answer, so Yoongi continues. 

“I’m...so tired. I’m tired of being tired with this. With us. And I know you’re just as tired. What’s the point of pretending like we’re happy with each other? No, not even that. What’s the point of being shackled together like this when we’re both miserable? Let’s just...stop. Let’s stop all this.” 

Yoongi inhales deeply, the memories suddenly flashing in his mind so vividly it’s like he’s seeing it in real time. Of the unfamiliar shoes at their apartment, of the sounds of what could only be Taehyung’s moaning mingling with someone else’s, of the condom wrappers clumsily hidden in the trash, condoms they’d never used, couldn’t have used because they’d stopped having sex months ago. 

Stuttering when Yoongi would ask where he’d been, averting his gaze, the strained nonchalance he tried faking when Yoongi would mention Jungkook’s name. Jeon Jungkook, his supposed therapist, who was supposed to be helping them fix their relationship. It might have been the case at first, but Yoongi wasn’t so naive that he couldn’t tell what was happening at this point. 

Yoongi sees it clear as day, the telltale smile on Taehyung’s face as he texts Jungkook, the way he lights up. It’s the way he used to look when Yoongi would catch him outside the window of a cafe, silly grins on both their faces as they would keep texting each other, separated only by a thin glass...

“What are you saying?” 

Yoongi looks up.

He blinks, rendered momentarily speechless by the tears he sees swimming in Taehyung’s eyes. His alcohol-seeped mind can’t quite wrap itself around what he’s seeing, unable to process the sight before him. What was there to cry over? This relationship had ended such a long time ago. How could this possibly come as a shock?

It was a fact that Yoongi could never be happy without Taehyung. But the reverse wasn’t true. Taehyung didn’t need him the way he needed Taehyung- 

“You promised you wouldn’t break up with me. You said-”

“Taehyung.” Yoongi shakes his head. “Don’t.”

Taehyung stares at him in disbelief. 

“You’re breaking up with me,” Taehyung says it like a statement, not a question. His voice is suddenly too loud, almost manic, even as his body gives nothing away. Arms are still crossed, unyielding, but he’s quivering. Guilt stabs Yoongi in the chest as Taehyung starts screaming.

“You lied to me! You said you loved me unconditionally! You said you would love me no matter what I did! You promised that we’d always be together, that we could get through anything if we worked it out! That you’d never break up with me unless-”

Taehyung stops, eyes wide, searching for an answer in Yoongi’s face. He finds whatever he’s looking for as a tear rolls down one cheek, then the other. 

“No...you promised…” Taehyung whispers. “Do you really...”

Do you love me?

Yoongi nods. 

I do. 

“I don’t love you anymore. Let’s end this.”

***

They’re children, ages 5 and 8, when they meet for the first time. Kim Taehyung is new to this neighborhood but the chubby little kid gets attached to Yoongi’s dog, Holly, in a matter of seconds. Yoongi thinks Taehyung is annoying. His best friend Jung Hoseok thinks Yoongi is too mean to the new kid for no good reason. Hoseok not-so-gently suggests that maybe it’s a crush and they get into an actual fistfight because Yoongi isn’t gay and Hoseok is just plain wrong. Oblivious, Taehyung thinks Yoongi is the greatest and keeps coming over uninvited to play with the two of them. 

They’re 9 and 12, and Hoseok moves to Seoul, leaving a huge hole in Yoongi’s heart that Taehyung manages to fill with his laughter, his soft, boxy, little smile. Somehow he’s never deterred by Yoongi’s grumpy attitude, always sharing his snacks or toys with no expectation of anything in return. The one time Taehyung catches Yoongi crying, he says nothing and never brings it up, though they both know it happened and it’s because Yoongi misses Hoseok. Yoongi starts to think that maybe Taehyung isn’t so bad after all and he tries to be a bit nicer.

It only takes a short while for Yoongi to realize he actually likes it when Taehyung is happy, when his eyes curve into crescents, when he lets out that childish peal of laughter. There’s a feeling in Yoongi’s chest that’s nice and warm. 

They’re 11 and 14 and Yoongi thinks he might be gay. He doesn’t tell Taehyung because he doesn’t know what to make of himself and it’s already plenty difficult dealing with whatever it is that he’s going through without having to worry about what Taehyung thinks. They still spend every waking moment together doing everything and anything and sometimes nothing at all, but Yoongi starts to get a little quieter, a little more reserved. When Taehyung asks him about it, Yoongi says it’s just puberty. Taehyung accepts it as an answer - but not really.

Yoongi keeps getting distracted by Taehyung’s habit of licking his lips. It’s such a pink little tongue against such pretty pink lips. These were probably, most definitely not normal thoughts to have. He starts averting his eyes around the younger male. Taehyung pretends not to notice, and Yoongi pretends not to know Taehyung is pretending.

They’re 15 and 18 and inseparable, even though Yoongi is about to graduate high school and Taehyung’s only just starting. Yoongi now knows for a fact he’s gay, gets himself a boyfriend, and loses his virginity like it’s nothing...but the moment it happens, he actually regrets it a little. He wonders what it might be like to do something like that with Taehyung, hates himself for having those thoughts, and decides he’s going to go to school in Seoul. It’s the first time Taehyung raises his voice at him. Yoongi leaves Daegu anyway. 

With no remorse, Yoongi breaks up with his boyfriend. 

At the same time, Yoongi realizes he’s in love with Taehyung and the truth shocks him, scares him. It’s not just lust, it’s not just some childish obsession, it’s not friendship he’s got confused with something more. He genuinely cares about Taehyung’s happiness more than anything else in the world, but his own feelings are getting in the way and he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

They’re 16 and 19 and Yoongi misses Taehyung like crazy, even though he’s become reunited with Hoseok. By a strange turn of events, Yoongi and Hoseok become friends with benefits, true friends that sleep with each other out of sheer convenience. Hoseok has someone else he likes who’s not gay. Yoongi thinks he’s stupid for crushing on a straight man, but Hoseok retorts that at least he’s not in love with his childhood friend who’s three years younger, making him a pedophile. Yoongi has nothing to say to that. 

They’re 18 and 21 when Taehyung comes to find him in Seoul. After finally being able to meet up, Yoongi comes out to him and tells him he’s gay and that things will never be the same because they simply can’t be. Taehyung looks confused until Yoongi forcefully tries to kiss him and he runs out of the apartment crying. Yoongi hadn’t wanted to resort to this. He ends up taking his hurt, his frustrations out on Hoseok who lets him because Yoongi has done that for him so many times before. 

With that, Yoongi takes a leave of absence from school to go serve in the military. 

When he returns to society, when they see each other again, when Taehyung comes back to see him, Yoongi doesn’t understand. Taehyung says he wants to give it a try. Neither of them know what “it” is. 

Taehyung suggests they live together, so they move into a small studio apartment, but in the end they’re more like roommates than anything else, an awkward tension perpetually hanging over them like a vulture waiting for the lions to leave. When Yoongi needs someone, he goes to Hoseok - he can’t force himself on Taehyung ever again, not after he’d seen the look of betrayal and hurt on the younger male’s face. 

He learns to put a careful distance between them, not so much that Taehyung would feel bad but just enough that he’s only partially, not totally, torturing himself. Or maybe it was total torture. He didn’t know. But Taehyung loosens up and that’s enough for him.

Yoongi tries to play the role of the good older brother, best friend figure that he’s been to Taehyung for so many years, and for a while it seems like both of them are starting to believe that’s all they are: so close they’re like siblings.

They’re 20 and 23 when Taehyung angrily confronts him. For Yoongi, it comes out of nowhere, but these are thoughts Taehyung tells him he’s had for a long time. He demands Yoongi be honest with him. He says he hates how uncomfortable things have gotten and just wants the old Min Yoongi back. And just like that, the fight leaves him, leaves both of them. Legs curled up to his chest, face buried in his arms, Yoongi mumbles a quiet, “I love you, Kim Taehyung. I’m sorry. It’s disgusting, I know, I’m sorry-” 

Taehyung kisses him.

It’s not a friendly peck, it’s not a soft press of lips. It’s hot and sloppy and messy and salty. Mortified, Yoongi keeps apologizing and Taehyung keeps trying to tell him that it should be fine because Taehyung loves him back. Yoongi doesn’t believe him one bit. 

They’re 22 and 25 by the time Yoongi finally realizes Taehyung is telling him the truth. Yoongi keeps running away, Taehyung keeps chasing him. It takes an excruciatingly long time for them to even hold hands, much less kiss again. But Taehyung is persistent, insistent, and Yoongi is weak. 

Taehyung graduates college. Yoongi is well on his way to becoming a successful government employee like his parents always wanted. 

They finally start dating...

***

Right when Hoseok opens the door to his apartment, Yoongi pushes him aside, rushes in, and proceeds to puke in the kitchen sink. He turns on the water, watching his night’s mistakes run down the drain with disgust. The sight is nauseating, and he looks away. 

“Good to see you too,” Hoseok mutters, taking in the bags that Yoongi had left behind in his haste. “You smell awful and look worse.”

“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbles miserably, getting as much of the alcohol out of his system as he could, tears in his eyes from throwing up. He’s dizzy but he’d somehow managed to walk out of his apartment with his things, leaving Taehyung in a stupor, and call a cab. By nothing short of a miracle, he’d survived the car ride here but he’d reached his limit.

He really could have done without all the reminiscing. 

Just like how he really could have done without the final glass that Taehyung had tried to take away from him. But it didn’t matter that Taehyung was right. What was done was done. 

Yoongi groans. 

“At least I didn’t yak on your doorstep,” he says, before gagging loudly a few more times. 

“Thanks for that,” Hoseok sighs. “And I’m glad you made it here in one piece, but I could have come and gotten you, you know.”

Yoongi rinses out his mouth and wipes his lips with the back of one hand, steadying himself on the counter with the other as the whole room spins. 

“No, this is fine. I’m fine.” Yoongi closes his eyes and mentally begs for mercy to whatever deity was out there. Alcohol made everything so much worse, but even this kind of horrid distraction was better than nothing. 

“...You really okay?”

Hoseok’s voice is laced with concern and Yoongi chokes out a dry chuckle. 

“Stupid question.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. You seem like your usual bitter ass self,” Hoseok jokes badly. It’s only a moment before Yoongi feels Hoseok’s lean arm around his back, shoulder supporting him up as he helps him take a seat on the living room couch. When Yoongi finally opens his eyes, Hoseok is grabbing a bottle of barley tea from the fridge and opening it for him. 

Yoongi barely nods in acknowledgement, but he’s more grateful for Hoseok than he will ever know. Unable to do much else, he takes a small sip and fights his gag reflex as he wills the liquid down.

“Well. All in all, it could have been worse.” Hoseok sits right next to him, thigh to thigh, and Yoongi leans a little into him, head resting against Hoseok’s slender shoulder. 

Hoseok is the wrong size, the wrong build. He doesn’t have Taehyung’s wide shoulders, lacks Taehyung’s softness, there’s no vibration of deep laughter or soft humming in his chest-

Yoongi hates himself. So much. 

“Not right now.” Yoongi makes a vague shooing motion with a limp hand. “No optimism, please.”

Hoseok’s fingers comb through his hair in what should have been a reassuring manner but Yoongi can only feel the telltale prickle of tears. It’s not the right hand, not big enough or warm enough, but right now it’s as good as he’s going to get. He needs this anyway, deserves just this little bit of comforting. 

He shuts his eyes tightly as if he could shut out his thoughts. 

It’s a long moment before Hoseok breaks the silence with a hesitant, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Yoongi responds instinctively, but Hoseok only hums. They’ve known each other for too long.

Hoseok knows when Yoongi’s feeling small and vulnerable, walls up high in self-defense even though he’s actually really lonely and wants someone to break down those exact same walls he’d put up. Hoseok knows the parts of Yoongi that he so desperately tries to hide from Taehyung because he can’t stand the ugliness inside himself. Yoongi wants to be perfect for Taehyung, doesn’t want to show any weakness or insecurity because Taehyung only deserves the best. 

Hoseok knows all this but he won’t say anything because it’s not his place. 

And Yoongi knows that. He’ll just never be able to admit to any of it, not to Hoseok, not to Taehyung, not even to himself. 

“Just so you know...Taehyung’s probably going to come looking for you,” Hoseok says gently instead, words heavy with implication. Taehyung knows exactly who Yoongi would go to at a time like this. 

Yoongi scowls. He fights the urge to retort that Taehyung hadn’t exactly come running after him just now, and instead chooses to grit out a bitter, “He doesn’t know where you live, so if you don’t tell him, he won’t know.”

“Do you want me to tell him?”

“No. Don’t talk to him.”

“Okay.” Hoseok’s fingers still in Yoongi’s hair. “Are you being honest with me?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

“Look, I know what all of this might look like, like it’s some big dramatic fight where someone just goes running to a friend and the next day they’re magically fine…but this time it’s really over. It’s really...really...over...”

Yoongi feels Hoseok’s lips press against his temple. 

“I know, I know. To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve never thought this was very healthy for you, hyung...but I just want you to know no one’s perfect. No one expects anyone to be perfect. You tried.”

Yoongi says nothing, the way Hoseok says nothing about the wetness at his shoulder.

“Hurts, Hoseok-ah…” That’s as much as he can admit to for now. He doesn’t verbalize just how much it hurt to see, to experience Taehyung cheating on him, lying to him, over and over and over again. He doesn’t mention how lonely it’s been being with Taehyung when it seemed like the younger male didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, how it’s lonelier than being alone. 

For so long, he just wanted Taehyung to talk to him, to tell him what he could do to make things better, but all he’d gotten was frustration that he “just didn’t get it”. He kept bending and bending until he felt like he was breaking. 

Enough was enough but he was still full of regrets. He had no one to blame but himself. 

Yoongi feels himself slip away slowly, exhaustion and alcohol catching up to him. He vaguely hears Hoseok whisper, “I’m sorry” before his eyes close, tears trickling down from the corners of his closed eyes as he falls asleep.

He dreams of Taehyung.

***

When they have sex for the first time, Taehyung is clumsy. Even that is endearing to Yoongi, though, as the younger male tries his best with every kiss, every caress. He’s worried he’ll hurt Yoongi, slippery fingers getting the lube everywhere. It’s messy. He goes slowly, too slowly, as if Yoongi will break, and even though their pace frustrates him, Taehyung’s gentle touch makes him feel like he’s something precious. It makes Yoongi want to cry. 

Taehyung is vocal, his deep voice a sweet rumble at Yoongi’s ear that makes him shiver with want. He’s careful, he’s thorough, he’s not afraid to ask for he wants, for what Yoongi wants. When they’re done, they bask in the afterglow for a little while, sweaty limbs tangled together, but Taehyung’s pretty quick to clean both of them off, eager to please. Yoongi feels loved and he wonders what he can do to make Taehyung feel how he feels. 

Turns out their first time had been Taehyung’s actual first. There’s something so pure about that fact that Yoongi can’t help but feel a vicious sort of pleasure. He vows he’ll be Taehyung’s last, as Taehyung spoons up against him, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist. They fall asleep, just like that. 

Surprisingly, Taehyung is needier than Yoongi expects and not just in bed. Yoongi has always known that Taehyung craves attention, both physical and not, trailing after Yoongi like a puppy since childhood. What takes him aback is how much Taehyung seeks reassurance that everything will be good between them. He’s alarmingly straightforward and constantly asks if Yoongi loves him. 

Yoongi’s answer never changes - he loves him, will always love him. No matter what.

What if Taehyung lied to him? Cheated on him? Killed someone? Did other terrible, horrible things? Yoongi would dryly suggest he simply not do any of those things.

But would Yoongi still love him? That was the million dollar question. Yes, Yoongi would sigh with a small smile on his face. That wouldn’t change, unfortunately for him.

Would they be together forever? Would they ever break up? To the latter, Yoongi says no, not unless he doesn’t love Taehyung anymore. Which will never happen. 

Like little children, they pinky promise over it. No matter what happens, they’ll work through anything and everything together. 

This kind of memory - the blissful ones, the ones where they’re silly in love and happy - is what Yoongi recalls, cherishes to himself, as he lays in bed alone, crying. He only has a few minutes to collect himself before Taehyung comes back from the shower because he doesn’t want his tears to be seen by anyone, much less Taehyung. He wipes his face, his body down as best as he can with the sheets, grimacing with pain as he moves his bruised limbs. 

When the fighting starts and doesn’t stop, when they stop being able to make up after, when things reach the point where their relationship seems irreparably broken somehow, the sex turns a little violent. Taehyung’s punishingly unyielding grip, his forceful thrusts, the way he yanks Yoongi’s hair is more than desperate, it’s cruel. Yoongi takes it all because he loves him, wants to be his solace, doesn’t complain about how it hurts. If this is how Taehyung wants to do it, Yoongi will accept it. Taehyung will cum and Yoongi won’t. He’ll accept that, too. 

But something has changed. Yoongi feels hollow, empty, dead.

Soon enough, they stop having sex, they stop talking, they stop listening, they just...stop. 

So, when the day comes that Yoongi finally sees the unfamiliar shoes at his apartment, he knows. Taehyung is definitely tired of his body, if not just him in general. 

It’s not over, but it feels like it’s Taehyung’s way of telling him it is. Why won’t he just say it? End it? Yoongi was never going to be the one to do it. Didn’t Taehyung realize that Yoongi hadn’t said those words lightly, hadn’t made those promises to break them? 

He doesn’t understand. Taehyung seems less and less happy with him. Clearly Yoongi is doing something wrong, he just doesn’t know what. And the more he doesn’t know, the more they suffer. But Taehyung won’t speak, won’t listen to his pleas.

Is it weeks or months that Yoongi lets slip by before he finds the courage to act? He doesn’t know, but what he does know is that things have spiraled out of control by the time he finds himself in Jeon Jungkook’s office, stomach rolling. To his dismay, though he shouldn’t feel that now, it’s a familiar scent that surrounds him, the one he’s been smelling on Taehyung more and more lately. He looks around the space, thinking to himself that the space is minimalistic, clean. 

Yoongi feels like he’s going to cry. 

“How can I help you?” the therapist asks, brow quirked. He lifts his chin slightly, like he’s being defiant, peering at Yoongi through his round, wire-rimmed glasses. There’s confusion mixed with disdain in his eyes, which was hardly surprising considering Yoongi had barged into his office without an appointment.

Yoongi stares at him for a moment. Jeon Jungkook is a handsome man, no doubt. He’s got a boyish charm about him, especially with the glasses, something innocent in his mannerisms and expressions, despite the serious look on his face. There’s a youthful twinkle in his eye, a stark contrast to the way his lips are pursed into an ambiguous, polite, not-quite smile. He’s well-built, well-dressed and probably making good money. It’s easy to see he’s a catch. 

At least if he was going to lose Taehyung to someone, it was to someone like this. 

“I’m Min Yoongi.”

Jungkook looks startled for the briefest moment, and quick as the therapist is, Yoongi doesn’t miss the onceover. 

“Not what you expected, I’m guessing,” Yoongi says wryly. He’s aware that he’s hardly a looker, no comparison to the man before him. With a sigh, he takes a seat across from Jungkook, settling into the chair with posture so casual it’s rude. He doesn’t care.

“...No, just about…” Jungkook looks at him, gaze unwavering. 

Yoongi returns the favor. “What do you think, Dr. Jeon?”

“What do you mean?” The words are careful, hesitant. As expected of a therapist. Well, fine. If Jungkook isn’t going to tell him what he thinks of Yoongi, then he’ll cut straight to the chase. 

“What’s wrong with our relationship?” 

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, Mr. Min.”

The corners of Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “Hm...How should I say it so you understand then? I have a boyfriend, you see. And we haven’t been doing so well, for a variety of reasons. Now he’s cheating on me with his therapist, which I personally think is a little fucked up.”

Jungkook goes silent. Yoongi stares at him, barely blinking, waiting. 

He doesn’t, can’t expect the words that eventually come out of the therapist’s lips:

“...What if the therapist was in love with his client?”

Yoongi’s brow twitches. “I would say that the therapist with his advanced studies and degree in human psychology, whether he knew it or not, was probably manipulating his client - my boyfriend - when he was down. Whether or not love had anything to do with it, I don’t think it changes the fact that it’s fucked up. Plus, don’t therapists have some kind of moral code against this kind of thing?”

“We’re only human, Mr. Min.”

It’s enough of a confirmation for him, but Yoongi decides to push further, to dig the knife in just a little deeper.

“Does he seem happy, Dr. Jeon?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I can only imagine he’s happier than before. A good therapist knows what his client needs.”

What he’s really saying is that Taehyung is happy with Jungkook, who knows how to treat him better than Yoongi does. Bittersweet, Yoongi smiles a little to himself. The therapist is dangerously good at knowing what to say and how. 

“Then that’s enough for me. Thanks for seeing me, Doctor,” Yoongi says softly, getting up from his seat when-

“If you don’t mind me asking a question, Mr. Min.”

“By all means.”

“Do you love your boyfriend?” 

Yoongi laughs. “I do. Always will. But if he’s happier with someone else, I’d rather let him go. For his sake.”

“That’s quite noble of you. Have you ever considered being a little more selfish?”

The question is left hanging as Yoongi walks away. 

***

Hoseok’s apartment is nice. 

It’s a little tight for two people, but Yoongi’s not staying there for free, so Hoseok can’t complain. Yoongi’s neat, he can cook, and he mostly keeps himself buried in work, staying out of Hoseok’s way. They’re back to how they were before Yoongi moved in with Taehyung all those years ago, and it’s too easy to get used to each other again. 

The only difference is that they don’t use each other’s bodies anymore, now that Hoseok has a lover. He claims they’re only fuck buddies, but Yoongi knows that look in Hoseok’s eyes all too well. And judging from the way this Park Jimin character will sometimes bring over flowers with a blush to match, they’re well on their way to becoming something more than friends with benefits.

Good for him. Truly. 

Yoongi finishes up the dishes and settles into the couch with a cup of tea, though what he really wants is a glass of wine or brandy. But Hoseok’s only condition was no alcohol, so tea it was. He takes a tentative sip of the chamomile and tries to relax. It’s another one of those nights that Hoseok is over at Jimin’s place, and Yoongi has the place to himself. Quiet, peaceful.

Numb.

Like the sensation of being underwater, like someone has taken the video of his life and slowed it down to half its speed, like targeted anesthesia where the patient knows something is happening but can’t physically feel any of it, Yoongi feels more dead than alive, lost like a ship without its anchor, letting things just happen to him without having much say - or wanting to. 

The lack of sensation grows day by day, and it gets easier to paste a smile on his face. He’s almost at the point where he can fool Hoseok into thinking he’s okay, that he’s not just a shell of his former self. One day passes, then the next. Enough days, and it’s a week, then a month. And just like that it’s almost a year. 

He wonders what’s wrong with him. Time was supposed to heal all wounds. Was a year not enough to dull the pain? Then how many years would it take?

But, at the same time…

How could a lifetime be erased, forgotten? Would it take as long as he’d lived?

Yoongi looks down at his blurred reflection in the tea. Even in the swirling image, it’s easy to tell that he’s gained back the dangerous amount of weight he’d lost, his skin is back to looking fair, not deathly pale, the bags under his eyes are his usual ones, not the black bruises they were before.

At least to others, he’ll soon appear whole, not broken. He supposes he could spare to be a little kinder to himself. 

There’s a knock at the door that crashes his train of thought, fierce and sudden, making Yoongi jump in his seat. Did Hoseok forget something? The pounding gets louder, more frantic.

“Jesus, Hoseok, calm down,” Yoongi mutters, setting his tea down on a coaster before walking over to open the door. He unlocks the bolt and swings the door open. “What the hell-”

Kim Taehyung.

Yoongi stares, words dying in his throat and coagulating into a lump he can’t swallow. He can’t breathe.

It’s really Taehyung in the flesh, with his intense, angry, beautiful eyes burning Yoongi’s skin like fire. 

Shocked, panicked, Yoongi moves to shut the door, but Taehyung’s faster, shoving his way into the apartment in a savage sort of move, knocking Yoongi to the side from the force. Taehyung closes the door behind him and Yoongi stumbles back, his footsteps unsteady. His hands, bracing his weight against the wall, are shaking.

It smells like Taehyung , and the memories come flooding back, totally unwelcome but forcing their way in just like the man himself. Everything Yoongi’s been working toward shatters, all the bandages he’d carefully wrapped around himself, his heart, mercilessly torn off. 

“W-What…” Yoongi feels himself short-circuit, wants to crawl into a corner and curl up into a ball. “What are you doing here.” 

“You made it so hard for me to find you that I knew it was really over,” Taehyung murmurs. “Couldn’t reach your phone or your friends’ phones, couldn’t find you at your company because you started working remotely-”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yoongi cuts him off, heated by a flash of anger that surprises even himself. “There was a reason for all of that, a good reason, yet here you are. I need you to leave.”

“You said...you said you didn’t love me.”

Yoongi can’t believe his ears. “This is ridiculous . And inappropriate. Get out.”

“Why did you go to Jungkook?”

Yoongi’s head snaps up and he’s forced to gaze into those eyes, dark and piercing and unwavering. 

“How-”

“How and not what. So, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Tae-”

“Why did you tell him if I’m happier with someone else, you’d rather let me go?”

“I don’t see how that matters now-”

“Why did you tell him and not me that you would always love me? Why didn’t you tell me to my face that you wanted to see me happy?” 

And, for the first time in Yoongi’s life, he breaks. Everything he’d been holding back bursts out of him.

“You have no fucking right to come here like this to fucking yell at me when you were the one that was cheating on me!” Yoongi roars, grabbing Taehyung’s collars in his fists. His eyes, betraying him, start to fill with tears. “ I’m not the one that broke any of my promises, I have always loved you, I still love you, I will always love you, god fucking damn it, but what choice do I have if you’re not happy with me ?! Don’t act like you’re the victim here, Kim Taehyung. I’m fucking sick of being in this relationship by myself, trying to make it work, pouring everything I’ve got into it, all the love and effort and time I could possibly give and never receiving any in return. I’m a fucking human being that deserves better than to be treated like this!”

“Who’s the liar now?” Taehyung says softly, so softly that the Yoongi’s own words are still ringing in his ears. “You didn’t pour everything into it. I’ve been trying to get you to, tried to force you to. Only now are you just starting to.”

Yoongi shoves Taehyung against the wall. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You were never fully in it.” Taehyung’s nostrils flare. “It was you, me, and Jung Hoseok. You never complained to me, never yelled at me, never came to me when you were feeling bad or sad or mad or hurt or upset. I kept trying to push your limits, kept trying to get you to rely on me, and you kept avoiding me. You always went to Jung Hoseok. I only ever had half of you!”

“I wanted to be perfect for you!” Yoongi shrieks, feeling his control slip away completely. He’s crazy, insane . “Did you think that was easy for me? Did you think it came naturally to try and accept everything about you even when you were hurting me-?!”

“I didn’t want you to be perfect!” Taehyung spins the two of them around, and now it’s Yoongi who’s caged in, Yoongi who has no space to breathe. “I wanted all of you, not just the pretty parts, the good parts. That’s not how love works!”

“And so your answer was to go cheat on me with Jeon Jungkook?!” Yoongi snorts, trying to find some semblance of sanity in his mind when everything was going haywire. He snarls. “No, thank you. I’m not going to be manipulated into thinking this was my fault.”

“It was a stupid idea,” Taehyung mutters. “It was stupid and I got carried away and-”

“You wanted me to notice you cheating on me and get mad over it?” Yoongi laughs humorlessly. “This isn’t a sitcom, this is real life. You don’t get to test me like that.”

“It was Jungkook’s idea.”

“And Jungkook loves you, so it’s fucking fantastic you went with it.” 

“That...That wasn’t what I wanted.”

“I don’t care what you wanted. I want you out of this house.” Yoongi’s voice breaks. His legs give way and he slips to the floor. He’s having trouble breathing, and he curls up into a ball, hands over his head like he could protect himself this way, like he can shield himself from the pain. 

Then, he feels warmth around him, the coziness and scent and feeling of home enveloping him, and he immediately pushes it, Taehyung, away. Yoongi doesn’t want his hug, he doesn’t want his tenderness, he doesn’t want anything to do with any of it. And yet, even after those pushes turn to punches as he fights against Taehyung with all his might, Taehyung is still there, coming back to wrap his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry, hyung. I don’t...I don’t know what I was doing, not really. I just… You’re right. It was unfair. I just... I just wish you could have come to me for everything. I didn’t want to tell you to rely on me, I wanted you to want to rely on me. I wanted to be the person you could come to for everything. It was stupid. I was stupid. I’m sorry. I don’t know how things ended this way. I...I didn’t want this. I don’t want Jungkook. I wanted Jungkook to help me get you back, get us back, and I trusted him and I was such an idiot-”

Taehyung quiets as Yoongi starts to cry, quiet sobs muffling into his shoulder. Yoongi’s falling apart in his arms in a way he’s never seen, more fragile and broken than the time Yoongi had finally confessed his feelings.

It breaks Taehyung’s heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I messed up. I’m sorry, hyung.”

Taehyung continues to repeat himself, pressing his lips against Yoongi’s temple, even as his legs go numb and Yoongi falls asleep from sheer exhaustion from crying. 

“I’m sorry, hyung…”

***

Yoongi reluctantly agrees to couples therapy. 

He’s still living with Hoseok and he’s not with Taehyung like that anymore, but he’s mature enough to handle trying to talk through their problems together. Though it’s obvious Taehyung wants them to just “go back to the way things were,'' he doesn’t exactly push them to get back together either, and Yoongi honestly doesn’t know if he could handle it anyway. At least, not right now. Not like this. 

It takes a few sessions for Yoongi to say anything at all, several more for him just to start speaking. Turns out it really wasn’t so healthy to keep everything bottled up inside - of course not, but he’d never thought about it that way. After all, people were always the best judge of other people, not of themselves. He only ever wanted Taehyung to see his good side, not the one that felt jealousy and pain and discontent and anger. He’d been so scared of losing Taehyung’s affection that he’d tried to keep all of that hidden away, not confiding in the one person that probably needed to hear all of that in the first place.

As for Taehyung, he’d wanted Yoongi to come to him without asking, not because he wasn’t willing to ask but because he wanted Yoongi to want to do so. All the fights he instigated were to get a reaction out of Yoongi, to get him to show more than just calm understanding. It came from the same source of insecurity that caused Yoongi to close himself off: fear that he would leave him eventually. That Yoongi would fall in love with someone like Hoseok if he was always going to him during tough times. 

Neither of them had wanted to admit anything, not aloud, not to themselves, hopelessly wishing that the other person would do as they hoped, that the other person would speak and clear up the misunderstanding. And it had all festered until it could no more.

“I think...that just about wraps up our sessions together,” Namjoon says, cutting through the silence that had settled in the room, crossing his fingers together, a small, crooked smile on his face. “It sounds like a cliché, but communication is pretty much the most important thing in a relationship. To be perfectly blunt, it’s more important than what you individually want or feel, because you’re trying to put “us” before “me” or “you”. It’s hard to put yourself in the other person’s shoes, but it’s really crucial that you try. I’m sure, Yoongi, that you would never want Taehyung to only show you the good things, to not rely on you when times get tough.”

“...Yes.”

“And Taehyung, likewise, you’d never want Yoongi to test you like that.”

“Right.”

“Well, good. Then, at this point, what you guys do is completely up to you, but I appreciate you guys trying to come to a healthy conclusion, whatever that may be. I think my job is done...though I didn’t do nearly as much as you guys did for yourselves.”

Yoongi nods, and Taehyung mumbles a quick thanks as they get up from their seats. Kim Namjoon, their therapist, walks them out of his office. It’s funny to think that they’d spent so much time in here, struggling to verbalize their thoughts and come to terms with the monster in the room. There had been a few tears, more than a few tense moments, and a lot of awkward silences. But Yoongi doesn’t regret it. He’s actually kind of glad they went through with all of it. 

“I hope both of you can be happy. Whatever shape that takes,” Namjoon murmurs, casually leaning against the doorframe. “Goodbye.”

They bid him farewell as they head out of the building together. It’s utterly silent between them as they stroll down the street, autumn leaves starting to fall in the brisk breeze, the sun peeking through the reddish-orange foliage and setting the roads aglow. Fall really is the most lovely season, when the air turns a little cool but the sun hasn’t lost its warmth, when the heat of summer dies and gives way to the beginning of winter. 

Yoongi admires the scenery around him and pointedly tries not to look at Taehyung, who’s wearing the coat Yoongi had bought him for his birthday years ago, the one that had cost a paycheck and a half but had been worth every penny when he’d seen the look on Taehyung’s face. It was the one Taehyung didn’t like wearing because he wanted to treasure it, the one Yoongi had to keep convincing him was fine to wear, that’s what it was for-

“Hyung?”

Yoongi shakes his head like he can physically shake the thoughts away. “Yeah?”

“I know...I know we might not ever be what we were…” Taehyung says softly, hesitantly. “And maybe right now is not the best time to ask. But...if you…”

Coming to a standstill, Yoongi looks at him, and Taehyung shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Never mind.”

“No, say it.”

“...If you could ever forgive me, that’d be great.”

“That’s not what you were going to say,” Yoongi’s lips quirk up the slightest bit. It’s not quite a smile, but it comes close. “What were you really going to say?”

“It just seems dumb to say it.”

“Say it anyway.”

“Well...I was just going to say...if...if you still love me, would you...give me another chance?” Taehyung’s chewing on his lip, brows knitted into a frown. “I really...messed up. I know I did. And I’m selfish and I know that, too, but I...I don’t want to be with anyone else, hyung.”

“I-”

“You don’t have to say anything now,” Taehyung interrupts him, turning and continuing to walk. Yoongi follows after him quietly. When they’re side by side again, Taehung murmurs, “I just wanted to say it. You can just make of that what you will and give me an answer when you’re ready.”

Yoongi swallows hard. 

“Okay.”

“Okay, good,” Taehyung says, relief all too visible in his face. “Take your time. I’ll...wait.”

“I meant, okay.” 

Taehyung looks at him quizzically.

“Like, okay. We...should try it again. Slowly. The right way.”

“...”

“...”

“...Oh…” 

“Too quick?” Yoongi jokes poorly, smile bittersweet. “Maybe I should have thought about it more-”

“No! No. I’m glad.”

“Okay.”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just really sorry for hurting you. I’ll do better. I’m sorry.”

There’s something thick in Yoongi’s throat and he merely nods. It’s a while before he can reply with a choked, “I’m sorry, too.”

He’s not sure where they’re walking to anymore, but it doesn’t really matter. They continue going, destination and purpose forgotten.

“...Could I hold your hand?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he slips his hand in Taehyung’s, fingers brushing against each other until Taehyung takes hold, forcing Yoongi to come a little closer. They slowly thread their fingers together. 

And they stay like that for a long while.