Chapter Text
Lavender symbolises admiration, solitude and beauty
The smell of lavender after a long day always helped Tae calm down and sink into the sleep that often evaded him.
It was everywhere in his apartment - in the form of candles, lotions, air freshener.
If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel as if he were at home.
Sometimes, he would come home to his dark apartment, and straight away just turn on his lamp and lie on the floor in the orange glow.
Lavender.
Soft, fleeting.
A gentle smell.
Tae revelled in the solitude that loneliness gave him. Company was overrated. He tried before, and he just ended up being hurt. He'd rather be alone then let that happen to him over and over again.
It's not that he couldn't get someone no; on the contrary, he knew that he was admired. The way he walked and dressed simply oozed elegance and beauty after all. He walked as if he were floating, steps so light upon the ground, as if he weren't there at all. He just wasn't interested in other people.
In the cool dark room, he lay back and smelled the lavender.
The skyline stared at him through the large glass window, tall buildings peeping in at him, lights flickering in the distance, beckoning to him. Winking slyly.
Knowing.
The large emptiness engulfed him, as he closed his eyes, embracing the blackness that came to him. The light behind his eyes was soft and warm. Inviting.
He loved lavender. It had a scent so light, so comforting. It reminded him of his mother, who grew it in the garden when he was small. He sometimes fell into the patch if he wasn't careful enough, and would simply sink into it with a deep sigh.
His mother, who was no longer there anymore, his old house sold and boarded up, the lavender lying long dead.
He missed her.
He missed the sound of her voice over the phone when she'd call him after a particularly taxing day; the comfort it would bring him to hear the sound of home. Because that's what she was to him - home. The smell of her cinnamon cookies wafting up the stairs, the comfort he felt in her arms when he fell and scraped his knee, the sound of her jazz records playing softly in the evening, with her humming along to them. She had a beautiful voice, his mother did.
The only person he would've ever died for was her. He loved her so much, that he felt a deep ache in his chest every time he thought of her. She was the only person he had ever cared deeply about, had ever loved.
In all honesty, she was probably the most beautiful person he'd ever known. She had a kind soul, a good heart and although life wasn't good to her (what with Taehyungs dad being an utter dick and fucking off when he was six, never to be seen or heard of again), she still kept going with her head held high, doing all she could to ensure Tae had a better life than she did. She did everything for him in order to make sure he succeeded, and when he did, he made sure to pay her back over and over and over again.
And now she was gone.
She was in the kitchen making up the shopping list when it happened. A stroke. He found her the next morning after he became worried as to why she wasn't picking up his calls, and found her there at the table, pencil still in her hand. The people at the hospital said it was quick. She hadn't been suffering long, they said. But that didn't mean it hurt any less. She was still gone, and yes it was selfish, but now Tae was truly alone.
It didn't really kick in that she was gone until the funeral. He sat there, in numb shock as he watched the procession, and as they lowered the coffin, he still couldn't believe that it was his mother going into the ground, never to be seen again. During the reception, as everyone went up to him to shake his hand and deliver the "I'm so sorry for your loss," he was still unable to register any emotions towards it. He just got more and more drunk from the free complimentary champagne. Later on, after everyone had left, as he stumbled upstairs to go to bed in his old room, he passed by her room and went in for a moment. It still smelled like her, that comforting soft scent of childhood. He walked around slowly, simply soaking up the ambience of the room. She didn't have much, most of her possessions being downstairs. He looked at the copy of 'Endless Night' by Agatha Christie on the table, marked on page 52 - never to be finished now. There was a photo of herself and him when he was ten, both of them grinning into the camera.
He sat down on her bed, sinking into the softness of it. Her favourite shawl was lying on top of the cushion, and as he picked it up and covered himself with it, he was suddenly enveloped in her scent - lavender and Versace 'Versus' and something that was just her - and that's when the tears came and just wouldn't stop. He found himself curling into himself as he lay on the bed, drunkenly sobbing uncontrollably like a child until he fell asleep from pure exhaustion and grief.
That was three weeks ago now.
He went back to work three days after the funeral, as he just couldn't face being alone without any distraction from thinking about her. He went to work early, and came home late, just so he could avoid being alone for as long as possible. Then the second he comes home, he'd lie down on the floor with his eyes closed and just smell the lavender - from either candles, lotions or just the dried herbs themselves in a little packet.
He lay on the floor, attempting to block all thoughts of her from his mind, attempting to avoid the loneliness that engulfed him.
He'd revel in the quietness around him, and forget about it all for just a little while. Sometimes, when there was too much quiet in the air, he'd put on an old jazz record like Chet Baker, or Ella Fitzgerald, and he'd sing along softly, pretending his mother was there with him. It was comforting, in its own way.
Of course, his boss Namjoon had noticed his change in behaviour. He was probably the closest thing Tae had to a friend, as they occasionally went out for drinks peppered with deep meaningful conversations. So naturally, Namjoon was concerned. While before, Tae had never been a slacker, he certainly wasn't someone who'd work himself to the bone. It didn't help that, while he didn't do a lot at home, he wasn't sleeping much either. He just wasn't able to fall asleep easily, and when he did, it would only last for around five hours before he would wake up, pillow damp from his tears. He'd then stumble into work, bags under his eyes and listless. Namjoon called him into his office a few days ago. In short, he told Taehying that he looked terrible and so it was decided by the Big Boss upstairs that Tae would have a break of leave for an undetermined amount of time. Namjoon had called Taehyung into his office and the second he asked Taehyung if he was alright, Tae had to forcibly stop himself from crying, and let out a stiff nod.
Namjoon must've seen this as he went on to say, with a sympathetic look on his face:
"I know you've been taking it hard since your mother's death but just, don't take this wrong but you look terrible. You look like you haven't slept in years! When was the last time you got a decent nights sleep?"
Tae swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Ah, I'm sorry, yeah no, I've been having trouble with sleeping lately. I went to the doctor and got these pills, but I don't really like taking them."
Namjoon furrowed his brow in concern.
"Well, listen. I've talked to the other managers. They all agree that while the work you've done recently has been great, we feel that you've been doing too much, and are under a lot of mental strain."
"So?"
"So... We've decided to give you a holiday until you feel mentally and physically well again. It won't be taken out of your Christmas bonus don't worry," he finished, looking at Taehyung cautiously.
Tae started.
"What!? No way!! Please please no! I promise I'll take it a bit easier please don-"
Namjoon put his hand on Tae's which cut him off.
"Tae. Please. Everyone's worried. I've got people coming up to me every day asking if you're alright. Take this chance to rest - you need it."
Tae looked Namjoon in the eye and broke down in tears. Namjoon held him, and they spent the rest of the afternoon softly talking about where Tae was going to go.
And now it was nighttime, and he was lying on the cold hard floor for the last time for a while.
He decided that wouldn't do to think too much about her, or else he'd been doing that a lot lately. He stared at the ceiling, admiring the way the candles bounced off the wall if he stirred even a little bit.
He was going away tomorrow morning - not for good, but, as his boss, Namjoon so delicately puts it, for as long as he needs until he's better. Better meaning, not going into the toilet every ten minutes so that he could cry, and then spending the rest of the time listless and blank.
Namjoon was kindly going to let him use his holiday home out in the country, not too far from Seoul, but far enough where it's in a tiny village and the skies aren't filled with an orange glow. It'd be a stressful journey, and he wasn't even nearly packed and honestly, he's terrified about going, about leaving all this behind, all that he's built up for the past eight years in Seoul. He's petrified, but in his deepest of hearts, he understands that he needs to get out for a while; needs to just relax, grieve quietly for a while, and then come back when he's ready.
But now
Now he's breathing in deep, trying to get the last of the city into him before he leaves.
He lays back, taking in the soft sound of cars rushing outside, the gentle rustle of the pillow as he shifts. The air around his is heavy with the scent of lavender. He closed his eyes, enjoying what he had for now.