Chapter Text
Emerging from deep sleep, Taehyung yawned, without bothering to open his eyes. Finding himself with a mouth full of soft hair, he flinched and his eyes flew open. Erika lay beside him, back turned and long, wavy hair splayed across the full width of the pillow. Smiling indulgently, Taehyung shuffled closer to her warm body and slung an arm over her waist.
“Whassatime?” she mumbled, voice sticky with sleep. “Donwannageddup.”
“Noon,” Taehyung drawled, checking his watch, “plenty of time to chill before we have to be at the theatre.”
Erika's body stiffened, and she sat up abruptly, staring wild-eyed at Taehyung.
“Why am I in your bed?”
“Well, I decided to call it an early night, but you went to Balans for cocktails with the others and when you came home you just had to tell me all about it,” Taehyung explained, smirking.
“Ah,” Erika said, face colouring. “In other words, I stumbled in here drunk and fell asleep mid-sentence.”
“That's the one,” Taehyung affirmed, chuckling. “I didn't have the heart to wake you and send you to your own room.”
“Oh God, I was drinking Forbidden Fruits and I definitely had one too many. You know I'm not good with rum...” Erika winced, rubbing at her temples.
“Or vodka, gin, whisky...” Taehyung teased, recoiling a little under Erika's hardening glare.
“We work hard, Tae. Six shows a week... I have to let off steam, sometimes.”
“I know, babe,” he soothed, petting her hair. “I'll come out with you and the others after the show tonight, if you're up for it.”
Erika's eyes lit up and she leaned into Taehyung's touch. “We'd all love that, Tae. It hurts us to see you feeling down.”
A moment of silence passed. Mindlessly, Erika rubbed at her cheek, frowning at the smudge of makeup left on her finger.
“I didn't wash up properly, again,” she complained, rolling her eyes. “Thank heaven for stage makeup camouflaging the actual state of my skin.”
Taehyung snorted. “If you'd seen the routines I had to go through during the early days of BTS...”
“And now look at you,” she shot back, “with your scruffy hipster stubble and your hair that hasn't gone near a pair of scissors in God knows how long.”
Primly, Taehyung retorted, “Nevertheless, I still have a skincare routine of at least five steps-”
“A sheet mask when you occasionally remember doesn't count, Tae.”
“Four.”
“Three, at most,” Erika countered. “Remember we shared a bathroom in the old place, before we moved here. I've seen you. A quick wipe with micellar water, collagen cream and a layer of snail mucin, and that's on a good day.”
“Am I not beautiful?” Taehyung pouted, leaning his head on one hand.
A slow smile spread across Erika's face.
“Yeah, you are, you idiot. And I hate you for it.”
*************************************************
In the kitchen of their luxurious Soho apartment, Taehyung sipped coffee, wincing at its bitterness and trying to ignore the persistent weight of sadness laying heavy in his stomach. He and Erika had been in London for almost six months now, reprising their roles in Phantom of the Opera on the West End. Taehyung's huge success in Singapore had prompted the offer, and he'd practically bitten their hands off to accept it. A brilliant excuse to stay far away from Korea, with the added bonus of furthering his career as a musical actor in one of the most prestigious places to do exactly that. The production had also needed a new Christine, as the previous actress was off on maternity leave. One wholehearted recommendation and a rushed Skype audition later, Erika had secured the role and Taehyung was delighted to continue working with his friend.
After a short stint in an overpriced AirBNB he'd secured a 12-month lease on this gorgeous apartment in Golden Square, a stone's throw from the theatre and the best of London's shopping and nightlife. If he'd told Erika the monthly rent was half of what it actually was, covering the rest himself, surely he could be forgiven for that? Both of them deserved a beautiful place to come home to, and well, Taehyung could afford it.
Admiring the comfort and view, Taehyung decided that if his contract was renewed for another year, he would make an offer to buy this place. It would certainly make a great addition to his property portfolio. Besides, Taehyung had grown fond of London, its grand beauty a vivid contrast against the outlandishness of Soho's nightlife. He could be invisible here, or at the very least, fade away into the low lights of Village and the arms of a handsome stranger.
He never woke up in a strange bed, nor brought anyone home to his. A moment on a crowded dance floor or a few sloppy kisses in an alleyway off Old Compton Street, the scent of ammonia and reckless decisions flooding the air, was as far as Taehyung allowed it to go. Often to the chagrin of the other parties involved. Though even the loudest protestors usually accepted his rejections with grace, stalking off for the next kill. If any of those men knew who he was, it remained unspoken. With his designer stubble and long hair, Taehyung no longer fit the polished boyband image, and on the rare occasions anyone bothered to ask, he said “I'm a musician”. They probably imagined him fronting an Indie band, or singing quietly with a guitar in a room above a pub somewhere – if they even thought about it at all.
It was easy to lose oneself in London, Taehyung mused. Too easy, really.
Unthinkingly, Taehyung thumbed through his messages, stopping with a jolt at his conversation with Yoongi. While no longer avoiding contact with his bandmates, Taehyung had asked them not to mention Jimin. He wanted no news at all, nothing to stir his poor, entrapped heart into further yearning.
Cold turkey was the only way to give up Park Jimin.
Taehyung huffed out a humourless laugh. As if he could give up Park Jimin, in this life or any other.
As he read Yoongi's words again, Taehyung's heart drummed nervously in his chest.
Yoongi-hyung (23.04):
Taehyung-ah. There's something you really should know.
Geochang Brat (23.15):
Wow, hyung, you're up early... I just got offstage. What's so urgent?
Yoongi-hyung (23.17):
Can I call you? It's about Jimin.
Geochang Brat (23.25):
No. Please respect my wishes and leave me out of it.
Yoongi had left Taehyung on read. Guilt prickled in Taehyung's gut as he realised they hadn't spoken for a few weeks. He'd hoped the situation with Jimin wouldn't ruin his closeness with the others. Still, they continued to push him, and Taehyung was continually building new walls to keep them at bay. Yoongi was the worst offender, but Jungkook wasn't much better. On the few occasions he'd video called Seokjin, if the other so much as mentioned Jimin's name Taehyung would rapidly hang up, citing connection problems. Namjoon remained blessedly silent, usually allowing Yoongi to speak for him, and Hoseok kept to the superficial in their conversations, sending selcas and funny videos he knew Taehyung would like.
The baby would have been born, by now.
Jimin's baby.
Detachedly, Taehyung hoped Jangmi hadn't suffered too much with her pregnancy. He was fond of her, after all... and he missed her, if he was honest with himself.
He didn't miss Jimin.
No, he didn't miss Jimin at all.
His heart was imprisoned by an unfathomable emptiness that ached during every moment he was awake and in possession of his own thoughts. There was one face that constantly haunted his dreams, a voice that soothed and unsettled him like no other, and a laugh that rippled in his ears no matter how he tried to silence it. His soul yearned to be near its mate, and his body strained to rush back to Korea and Jimin's side. Taehyung wanted to forget all that had happened and whisk Jimin away, hiding from the rest of the world together with no care for the consequences.
He needed Jimin, craved him, was flaking to pieces without him. Taehyung tried to pack his inconvenient feelings away into a neat little box, storing it away in a secluded corner of his psyche. His only respite was the time spent inhabiting the Phantom onstage, giving himself over so completely to the character he was portraying that Kim Taehyung existed in corporeal form only.
In those moments, he was doing more than just surviving.
Idly, Taehyung wondered if Yoongi wanted to tell him that Jimin had become a father. Really, it was irrelevant to Taehyung's life and the less he knew about it, the better. He had long since blocked Jimin on as many platforms as possible, and muted any mention of him. So far, it had worked. Nothing had filtered through and he wanted to keep it that way.
He loved Jimin, needed him, craved his presence. But he could never allow Jimin to crush him like that, ever again. So, a total blackout was the only reasonable option.
As if summoned, his phone buzzed with a text notification.
Annoying Maknae (1.28pm):
Hyung, I really need to talk to you.
Taehyungie-hyung (1.29pm):
If it's about he who shall not be named, I don't wanna know.
Annoying Maknae (1.30pm):
I swear to God, hyung... I'll fly to London and force you to listen to me.
Taehyungie-hyung (1.31pm):
You don't know where I live, and I'll tell security not to let you in at the theatre. 😛
Annoying Maknae (1.35pm):
OK. Fine, hyung, I'll respect your wishes LIKE I ALWAYS DO. But please think about it. I know Yoongi-hyung has reached out, too.
Taehyungie-hyung (1.38pm):
When will you all understand that I'm just trying to get on with my life, and HE should too? Leave it, Kook-ah.
Annoying Maknae (1.39pm):
Oh, if you only knew, hyung.