Chapter Text
Taehyung is still using the car his parents bought him when he was nineteen. It’s old, and has been through shit, but it’s reliable. It’s been the vehicle he’s used to visit his husband ever since. In many ways, it’s a time machine, lugging its wheels across asphalt roads surrounded by skyscrapers, transporting him forward and bringing him back. Back to the stains on the back seat when he and Seokjin tried having sex over morning coffee. Back to quiet, groggy late-night mornings, listening to his intoxicated husband giggle as he gushed over him.
There are newer models, ones that aren’t even that expensive, but Taehyung has yet to let go of this one.
He brings his hand over to the warmth coming out of the car’s vents, and blows into his hand. He wishes he’d cuddled with Jimin before leaving, he could’ve used the extra warmth. On any other day, he would. Usually, he’d sleep criss-cross with Jimin until the other had to go to work, rouse himself to the smell of coffee and see Jimin off.
But on days like this, when Jimin would watch him leave for the hospital, he’d always have this sad smile, this little unsure wave, this “take care” he didn’t know the meaning behind. He didn’t want to see that. His husband’s still alive . He’s not visiting his grave. He’s still in there.
(Seeing Jimin’s sadness always made that harder to believe.)
But now he misses Jimin’s comfort, and he wishes he’d hugged his best friend before he left. He thinks he should’ve told him what was about to happen today. He didn’t want his friend to worry, though he knew that Jimin would probably be angry when he found out. If he found out. Today could go a number of ways, after all.
He’d call him now, if he didn’t know he’d have his phone on vibrate and probably just rut into it thinking it’s his boss trying to call him on his time off. Besides that, Taehyung has been mooching off his best friend’s apartment for nearly a year now. He’s gotta give him a break from himself.
This trip will be an opportunity for that.
A chance for things to change.
It’s weird living in the future. Especially when you wish you’re living in the past.
He parks and, after quickly taking inventory of his bags, presses the button that’ll automatically transport his car into the car storage, taking the card key with him for when he has to leave sometime tomorrow.
Taehyung smiles easily at the woman manning the information desk, the one who has been working in Seokjin’s building for the past year. For once it’s a genuine one, wrought with excitement and fear.
He heads into one of the elevators, squinting at his reflection, fluffy-haired and bulky in his coat. The lights are too bright here. They always are. Minds Incorporated hasn’t changed the interiors since deciding on the “futuristic” aesthetic when the company was launched years ago, despite the shift in trends towards looks that were more retro and less... sterile.
But this is still a medical facility, too, isn’t it, Taehyung muses. It’s done healing.
He mulls the word over in his tired mind, flexing it to fit its definitions. Healing, repair, mending, getting better. He thinks of families reuniting in the ICU, of children going back to school after a bout of the flu. He thinks of the blank face of their floor neighbor, telling him how his son had woken up. That was months ago. He couldn’t quite place it then, the old man told him, but it was different.
“He was different,” he said, forlorn.
At least he was back, Taehyung thought inwardly. Unlike Seokjin. The last one sleeping.
Taehyung didn’t know bitterness and sadness could mix with fear like this, back then. He knows it now, its familiar taste like poison in his heartspace. He pushes it down.
Practiced.
Well-practiced.
Anyway, about “healing”, he’s learned to expand his definitions.
He swings open the door to Seokjin’s suite and a shiver goes through him. The temperature is no colder inside, but he wraps himself further into his coat. Being here always gives him the chills, almost like a memory in the topmost layer of his skin.
He brushes his fingers on his chest, as if to wipe away the tears they’d caught that day. No sense to be sad for the one you love if he’s happy. Because that’s what the machines were reading, right? That he’s happy in his sleep.
The frost over his eyes clears as he listens to the beeping coming from the monitor next to him, and then the clock overhead. Keeping time. The analog one displays Korean Standard Time, while the one attached to his bed shows how long he’s been in a coma. He doesn’t need to look at it (that’s how he starts his journal entries, after all), but he does.
323 days.
Seokjin looks pretty healthy, for someone who hadn’t been exercising or really eating at all. The nurses have his body go through exercises everyday in this new, scary contraption, just to keep it in shape, while Seokjin stays peacefully hooked up to the machine.
Taehyung puts his bags down on a chair and walks over to kiss his forehead. He’s wearing RJ pajamas and a headset, his face placid.
On a regular visit, he’d leave it at that. Ask the doctor how he’s doing and then go home. It didn’t help to dwell.
But today’s a big day. And plus, it’s Seokjin’s birthday tomorrow.
So he takes off his shoes and gently slips under the sheets with him, shuddering at the change in temperature. The bed is wide enough for Taehyung to slot against him, nosing as close as he can to his neck without bumping into the headset. Taehyung can feel the hollow curve of his waist and his belly, but curled up like this Taehyung can pretend he’s smaller. He used to be able to hear the rumble of his voice when he put his head to his chest. He remembers that.
It was good.
It used to be so good.
The lakehouse.
They’d just gotten together a month before, and were so enraptured with each another that Seokjin invited him over for the weekend. It was the only weekend he’d have free, he reasoned, since work was so demanding.
It’ll be our only opportunity to visit in the summer for years. We might be broken up by then, Seokjin said. They laughed together, but somehow they were comfortable with that possibility. After all, isn’t it transience that makes love more meaningful?
The weather was perfect, back then, and so was Seokjin. He liked to let his hand hang out the window as they drove, and on their first visit, he picked a flower straight from a tree as they passed by and held it out for Taehyung.
“My love for you is in full bloom,” he remarked. It was stupid but it made Taehyung blush like a schoolgirl. Later that day, after another exquisite dinner (Taehyung learned that being with Seokjin meant getting very well-fed every time), Seokjin confessed it was an accident.
“Or maybe it was fate,” Taehyung replied breezily, sitting in the couch next to him.
“Maybe it was what?”
“You heard what I said.”
“You’re so sappy.”
“Okay, you’re the one who brought me to your lake house and held my hand as we watched the sunset, so I don’t think—”
He was cut off by a tackle, and a kiss. They’d had a great deal of kisses and touches by then. Seokjin has even blown him off a few times, once in the car after a movie date and another when he stayed over at Taehyung’s apartment.
But it never went further. Seokjin would say, “it’s getting late, I gotta go, I need to uh – iron my lawn, or water my stove”, things like that. So the lakehouse was the first time they’d really had the opportunity to go all the way , and Taehyung was prepared. He didn’t know what size Seokjin was, or if he bottomed or not, so he got every size condom and a new bottle of lube.
Just in case.
But when they made it to the bedroom and Taehyung actually reached for the lube, Seokjin sat up and gave an awkward groan.
Taehyung was so scared that he might’ve done something wrong. The worry was plastered on his face, and his hand tossed the lube across the room before he could even think to say something, which made Seokjin laugh.
“We can just keep kissing, it’s okay,” he said quickly.
“No no, I just want to warn you...”
Seokjin explained he didn’t really get hard with other people. Not usually. He didn’t experience sexual attraction that often at all.
Just you.
His face was all red and shy. Seokjin explained he had a weird relationship with sex. “I’m on the ace spectrum, I think, just don’t know where. Or maybe I’ve been on anti-depressants for so long it just feels like it.” Either way, he didn’t want Taehyung to get disappointed if he didn’t get hard or come.
“Well, I guess my question right now is, do you actually want to have sex?”
Seokjin didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, I would like you to fuck me, I think that’d be really fun.”
Taehyung could not get to the lube fast enough.
It was surreal, having sex with Seokjin. Moonlight swam in through the window to set his pale skin aglow, and Taehyung trailed kisses along the shadowlines, into the pools of light and darkness across his belly, the curve above his collarbones. Seokjin let him take his time. There was nowhere else he wanted to be than under Taehyung’s attentive care. Every time Taehyung stripped him of a piece of clothing, they kissed. Taehyung bit and nibbled at Seokjin’s lips until he begged.
“What’s that?” Taehyung asked with a smirk. “Are you acting?”
He shook his head. “Wanna see you,” Seokjin whispered, blinking prettily.
Taehyung still had his shirt on, and his underwear, while Seokjin was completely bare, his legs squished together in a futile effort to hide himself. Taehyung pouted. “You’ve seen me already. I haven’t seen you. I don’t think that’s fair.”
Seokjin whimpered as Taehyung sat up so he could drink him in, biting his lip as he allowed his gaze to roam. Seokjin was covering his eyes.
“Are you embarrassed?”
A nod.
“Don’t be. You’re so gorgeous.” He trailed his fingertips down his abdomen, smiling at the shiver elicited by the sensation, and took his shirt off as requested. He wasn’t planning to tease him for too long. But Seokjin still wasn’t looking, so he fit himself against him instead, humming as they slid skin to skin. Seokjin’s gasp was right next to his ear as he began to kiss the knuckles over his eyes. “There. We’re even now.”
Seokjin rut up against Taehyung’s belly.
Taehyung let out a surprised sound. “Hyung. You’re hard.”
Seokjin groaned. “Do you have to say it like that?”
“Shit, sorry.” His eyes searched his face. “Do you think...?”
“Taehyung, I think it’d be more productive actually trying to achieve orgasm than asking me about thinking of achieving orgasm.”
They kept kissing as Taehyung stretched him out. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest next to his, drowned in each other’s moans. Taehyung took his time with this, too. He went practically cross-eyed watching Seokjin as he kissed and sucked at the tip of his tongue. He kept their eyes locked even as he pulled his fingers out and rolled on the condom, teasing Seokjin about his impatience.
“You want my cock that bad?” Taehyung squinted. “Really?”
“Please,” was all Seokjin said, holding his thighs wide open from him.
It was nothing short of divine when he eased in, using all his willpower to breathe, to take it slow. He whimpered and threw his head back, his cock barely two inches in. Seokjin was still so tight.
“Shit, you’re inside me,” Seokjin said.
Taehyung blinked, alarmed. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”
“No, but – ah, fuck. You’re so big. ”
He laughed, licked his lips and shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t know he could get this turned on. More than that, he couldn’t believe how turned on Seokjin apparently was, with his cock leaking precum on his belly.
“I hope that means you’re having fun,” Taehyung remarked, rubbing a thumb into the wetness and then stroking it along the underside of his cock. Seokjin whined.
“Y-you can fuck me now,” he said quickly. He gulped, looked up through his lashes. “Use me.”
Taehyung sputtered.
“You want me... to use you?” He had meant to sound teasing but he just sounded stunned and horny.
“Yes. Please.” Seokjin looked so small, so precious. He gasped when Taehyung wrapped a hand around his thigh. His skin was on fire. “Don’t tease me, I might cry.”
Taehyung growled in response and promptly bent him in half, fucking him hard and fast, teasing mewls out of Seokjin he had never heard before. He wanted more, he wanted all of it. He could probably edge himself forever to keep Seokjin moaning like that, but something amazing happened, and he couldn’t hold back.
Baby, I’m coming.
Once he felt Seokjn’s walls convulse around him, he was gone, his lover’s ass was milking him for all he was worth. He practically collapsed next to him, showering a very tired, elated Seokjin with matching lazy smooches. When he got a good look at him, he found what looked to be tear tracks on his temples. His eyes were still glistening when he opened them.
“Good?” he asked.
Seokjin nodded. “G-good. And you?”
“Perfect.” Seokjin was perfect.
It wasn’t until later on that he learned Seokjin was worried Taehyung would leave him if he didn’t come the next time too. You might say maybe it was fate that they only have sex successfully once, and then part ways, he told him one day. So he put it off, and off, and off. They’d be playing Smash Bros, and then fighting, practically climbing on top of one another, and Seokjin would panic and ask him to stop. Taehyung was patient. But Seokjin couldn’t resist giving in to something they both wanted.
The next time came, one cold night, when Taehyung begged into their heated kisses, his hands a salve to Seokjin’s chilly skin. Seokjin thought he’d make it, and Taehyung tried so hard. But in the end he didn’t finish. He cried after, sorry, I’m so sorry . Taehyung didn’t get why he was so upset, but he stayed, cleaned Seokjin gently and curled him into a comforting ball—and stayed.
By that time, leaving hadn’t even crossed his mind.
They went to the lake house the next month, and the next month. Seokjin liked getting Taehyung to come fishing with him, and Taehyung liked taking pictures of him waiting for fish. They would’ve gone in winter, too, if only the heating didn’t need repairs. The morning of their last visit, Taehyung had woken up before Seokjin—a rare occurrence. It was hours before the sun rose that Taehyung listened to Seokjin’s heartbeat through his chest.
Slow.
He used to tap the rhythm out until it lulled him back to sleep. Sometimes Seokjin would catch him and hug him closer without opening his eyes.
It was comforting, hearing his heartbeat so close to him.
But now it sounds lonely. And when he imagines his voice, the voice that would whimper as Taehyung kissed his neck like this, it’s different.
I need to go back, please... Taehyung-ah, you’re stronger than me.
Seokjin was a victim. How could he ever get mad at him? He knew Seokjin backwards and forwards, knew about what he’d gone through. He’s seen the pain; sometimes thinks he can feel it himself.
“I understand,” Taehyung would say, and Seokjin would grimace.
“I wish you did.”
But didn’t he?
Maybe that was the problem.