Work Text:
29 August 2018
“Taehyung, I’m going overseas.”
It was evening. An evening that was filled with cold but lit up with warmth. The pale blue moonlight shone through frosted windows leading to their room, where two figures laid silently on their couch. The lights were off and the only artificial light came from the television playing static on repeat. They should have talked to the landlord about this issue.
“What?”
He mumbled softly, pretending to be shocked as he snuggled closer into his other’s chest. He, of course, expected this.
“I got a job offer to work at Laika Studios. They needed a new sound guy for BGM and sound effects. I think you heard of it before? I mean you know art so like—”
Of course he expected it. Taehyung isn’t stupid. He knew what Yoongi’s job would eventually entail him to do. He expected it. He knew. He knew and yet he couldn’t help the sinking dread that squeezed his very being.
“—I mean it isn’t confirmed or anything and there’s still a lot of time—“
He was rambling now. Taehyung could feel his chest beat heavily and quickly, could feel Yoongi’s hands comb through the younger’s hair out of pure nervous habit. He could feel him jiggle his feet and his arms squeezing him just a bit harder. He knows he’s nervous.
“Hyung.”
Yoongi stops, looks down at the face he came to love so much.
“I’m okay with it. It’s your job, right? Don’t let me stop you from being one step closer to your dream.”
The older’s eyes widened just a little bit more, before he tilted his chin for a sweet sweet kiss.
“Thank you.”
As much as Taehyung reciprocated, he can’t help but feel a throbbing deep in his mind.
3 November 2018
3 months go by too fast.
Way too fast. It was September one second then November the next. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right as Taehyung watched Yoongi pack his stuff up, taking minimal clothes along with a few precious memories with him. He packs his sound equipment, he packs his shoes and he packs his accessories. Taehyung just watches, sometimes reminding Yoongi of some things he might’ve missed.
Yoongi leaves tomorrow. Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about it.
4 November 2018
They arrive at the airport at 3AM. The sky still extremely dark and the chill of November bites at their skin. Taehyung waits with Yoongi. They sit by a waterfall display somewhere in the airport, Taehyung’s head rested on Yoongi’s shoulder, their hands gripped tightly together ‘til their knuckles turn white and their palms turn a cute shade of pink.
“Good morning passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 008B to The United States of America. We are now inviting—”
“It’s your flight.”
“I know”
Yoongi continues gripping onto Taehyung’s hand, glaring sad sad daggers into his lap. He didn’t want to leave. Never did want to leave. But he had to.
“Hyung, you’ll have to leave eventually. You can’t keep dragging it out for so long.”
Taehyung releases their hands, tilting Yoongi’s head to face him. Kissing him sweetly, giving a strained smile, and stroking his cheek.
“Go on. Chase it. I’ll still be here when you come back.”
Yoongi only stands up then.
“I promise I’ll talk with you as much as possible. I’ll text you, call you, hell even send you voice recordings—”
Taehyung giggles and lightly smacks his arm.
“I know. I know. Now go or miss your flight.”
A final kiss so sad and sweet.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And even though he was indoors, when Taehyung witnessed Yoongi walk further and further away and eventually out of his sight, even though it was the start of November, he couldn’t help but feel the December frost creep into his skin.
6 November 2018
As Yoongi promised, he texted, called and even sent voice recordings to Taehyung on a regular basis. He talks about his guide he met—Namjoon, was it?—talks about how much different America is compared to Korea, how he’s struggling to do anything with his limited English skills. He talks a lot about the other side of the world, then he asks about Taehyung. He asks how he’s doing—Taehyung’s answer is always ‘okay’—asks if he had went out with his other friends recently—they’re hanging out this Sunday—asks if he wanted anything from America—just you.
“Taehyung love, I know. I know. Please… please wait for me?”
Taehyung will wait. Much like how a loyal dog waits for his master to come home from work, Taehyung will wait for Yoongi for an eternity.
But the texts dwindled.
The calls even less (understandable, since wi-fi isn’t always available and international phone calls are expensive).
The voice messages are rare occasions.
And eventually, for a whole week, nothing.
1 December 2018
Taehyung expected it.
He knew.
He knew it so well.
The job was demanding. He knew how flexible art could be and he knew Yoongi would have to go through so many changes and late night producing to make sure the directors are satisfied. He experienced it before, of course, back when he was in college and being in commercial arts was no easy feat. For Yoongi to be able to text and call him as much as he did was pretty much an accomplishment.
He knew.
And yet, under the calm moonlight that seemed nothing but cold now, under the warm artificial street lights that felt scorching instead of comforting, under the protective covers of his bed that felt way too big, it wasn’t enough. Static played on the television. Over and over and over and over and over and over and over. Background noise seemed too loud. Things that once seemed comforting felt like it was pinching at every one of his senses.
Because sometimes the knowledge isn’t enough.
20 December 2018
Taehyung paints. He paints violently. The once semi-clean studio room was splattered with shades of red, blue, purple and green. Half-finished canvases of distorted faces were strewn about the space. The carpet stained blue and the door stained red. He stands as he paints, room illuminated by only the street lights as angry paint strokes scratched the canvas.
There was a person. Skin pale but not like snow, hair fluffy and black in the common Korean hairstyle, dressed in a simple black hoodie and— nothing. Taehyung couldn’t remember. He couldn’t. He couldn’t remember what he looked like.
The midnight screams of frustration had never gotten so loud.
25 December 2018
A small part of Taehyung looked forward to this day. He woke up bounding with the most energy he had for the past months, practically prancing to the kitchen to make himself a simple breakfast (eggs with toast) and checks his phone—to see no reply. Last night’s message asking whether his dearest were to come back for Christmas was met without a reply. Perhaps it was due to the time difference? Yoongi would almost always reply should Taehyung send him a message.
Maybe he’ll just wait.
Babe you comin home for Christmas?
its snowing heavily down here…
I think im about to freeze to death lol
new years about to start
you comin back?
even for a little while?
please?
30 December 2018
read at 0142AM
10 February 2019
The middle of winter. A good 3 months of radio silence from his dearest beloved.
There was nothing.
9 March 2019
happy birthday babe!
read 1305PM
2 April 2019
Taehyung
I’m coming home
read 0356AM
8 April 2019
Taehyung didn’t know how to react to Yoongi coming home. He didn’t know. A good 5 months of radio silence and he springs this on him? It’s unfair. It’s unfair and he knows it. He knows he should be mad. He knows he should stay mad and he should scream and cry and ignore him for as long as possible. He knows.
But he waits for Yoongi at the gateway anyway.
The ride back to their apartment was filled with deafening silence. It choked him as the driver was visibly tense as well. It engulfed the car like a looming spirit chasing after them in some horror movie. They sat opposite ends, hands not bothering to touch. Taehyung looks out the car window and wonders what the fuck went wrong.
0218AM
They sit on the couch. Opposite sides, feet a good distance away from each other. Taehyung’s face illuminated by his phone’s bright light as he feigns nonchalance. He sees Yoongi from the corner of his eyes, fidgeting about, legs shaking and hands scratching his own thigh.
“Taehy—”
“Why?”
Taehyung wanted it to sound angry, strong, powerful, with a serious and disappointed tone to it. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to scream at him and wanted to shake an answer out of his boyfriend who ignored him for a good 5 months before suddenly throwing himself back into Taehyung’s life as though it was nothing. As though Taehyung was some convenience.
Instead, what came out was a cracking sob, a whisper, a plead.
“I- I have no excuse. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
That was when the rage surfaced onto Taehyung’s face. Nights of frustrated crying and frustrated screaming all condensed into one moment. As though this Taehyung was replaced with a much more angrier one, he flew into a fit of rage.
No excuse?
“Fuck you,” Taehyung lunges himself at him, grabbing him by the collar as he placed their faces so close to each other. Too close. Too suffocating. “You- you can’t just promise me the world, promise me your dedicated and promise me your life only to disappear for an extended period of fucking time. And then come back out of the blue only to have nothing to say?! Why?” Fat, ugly tears roll down sunken cheeks. Angry and hot, yet sad and cold. “Give me anything! Work? Too busy? Have new friends to hang out with? Annoying boss? Cheating on me? Anything!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Taehyung.”
“Fuck you.”
Taehyung clings onto Yoongi’s shirt, tears staining his shoulder as they cling to each other for their dear lives.
Why?
1425PM
They wake.
And they talk.
Yoongi talks about his work. He talks about what has been happening. He talks about his annoying boss and he talks about the friends he met in America. He brags about how his English had gotten so much better. He talks about how different American companies work as compared to Korean companies. He talks about how busy he got, and how there was a sudden lack of staff as a new disease was spreading, and how much work he got thrown into. He talks about being in a 3 man team to complete the sound for their new film. He talks about the silence. He talks about why.
“I don’t forgive you. I don’t know if I can. It hurt me too much, you know? I thought you found someone else. I thought you had given up on me.”
Yoongi nodded in understanding. He knew. It was to be expected.
“But I’m open to giving you another chance. I love you and I want to give you one last chance.”
So please. Please don’t leave me.
.
.
.
If we did not meet
I would not be so sick.
When I passed by
If so,
The season is back
As a substitute for your memories
Just by your side
I need only you
-YOONWON, If We Are