Work Text:
0.
It starts with a book.
Taehyung responds to a tweet from his favorite author – nothing important, the author in question has simply started a discussion about the subjectively best and worst vegetables in the world, and Taehyung, an avid vegetable anti-fan, feels the need to weigh in.
He sends the tweet, and then he scrolls down to see another reply almost identical to his, its only difference the punctuation. He gives it a like and moves on with his day, until a few minutes later when a reply to his reply lands in his notification.
hey!! are you me? am I you?
Complete with a gif showing two heads, telepathy brain waves floating between them.
And that’s it. Taehyung’s fate is sealed. He doesn’t know it, but it won’t take long before he starts to suspect what’s to come.
1.
He knows Jimin is… special, even just from seeing him on Twitter. The comfort that spills out of his every sentence, every word, down to the letter. It doesn’t matter what he’s talking about; it’s always there, a kind of light to the way he expresses his thoughts and chooses his words. And gradually, over time, more and more of those words happen to drop into Taehyung’s DMs, and he doesn’t know about Jimin, but he for one sure doesn’t mind.
He finds out things he hasn’t yet had time to wonder about. He finds out that Jimin lives abroad, that he’s just finishing his degree, that he’s not really sure what to do with himself now that his education is coming to an end, that… Jimin is a good friend. Jimin is a whirlwind of cute emojis and unwavering support, of puppy videos and dreamy songs.
Most of all, he finds out that Jimin is far, far away.
3.
jimin: i’m just saying, i think the romance aspect of his latest book was… dull
taehyung: you’re actually off your rocker
taehyung: jiwoo’s and solbi’s relationship is the healthiest i’ve ever read in a book???? or seen on tv????? or in real life???????
jimin: oh i agree with that
jimin: but maybe that’s why it’s so boring ^^
taehyung: healthy relationships are boring?
jimin: not necessarily, but…
jimin: i just think that the modern idea of love is that both parties should be able to get by without each other, have their own interests and their own friends
jimin: you know, have a life outside of each other so they don’t depend too much on the relationship
jimin: and, you know, the whole world won’t fall apart if they break up
jimin: and that’s great!
jimin: in real life, that’s great.
jimin: but in media? my god is it boring and colorless
taehyung: you lost me <3
jimin: i think it might have to do with age, too. and experience
jimin: it’s probably a universal experience that, no matter what age you are when it happens, your first breakup almost kills you
jimin: you think you’ll never love anyone that way again, or at the very least you’ll never get over them, never forget
jimin: but once it’s happened to you a couple of times, three times, four times, you start to understand that actually, heartbreak won’t kill you unless you do something stupid to deal with it
jimin: and the next time you meet someone, that passion that used to make you feel like your relationship was a matter of life and death… it starts to fade, or goes out completely
jimin: and i hate that! i don’t want love to be that way for me
jimin: i think that devastation is part of what makes love what it is
jimin: think of it this way.
jimin: imagine if in romeo and juliet — and no, i’m not saying those two were the pinnacle of successful, healthy relationships, but they’ve been *the* romantic standard that most fictional couples get compared to at one time or another, so bear with me
jimin: imagine if, when romeo found juliet unconscious and thought she was dead, he had simply sighed and said: ‘well, this sure sucks, but it’s okay, i’m strong and independent and this heartbreak won’t kill me’.
jimin: do you think juliet would still love him the same when she woke up and found him ready to move along to the next chick in sight?
taehyung: i get your point, but jimin-ah, there are levels to devastation
taehyung: i think the point a lot of these books and movies are making is that you can suffer losses and heartbreak and all sorts of pain, but it’ll always pass, and you’ll always be more than that
taehyung: you can be devastated without letting it kill you
jimin: but then, are you really devastated?
taehyung: yes!
taehyung: like i said, there are levels to these things
jimin: right. and i want my love to be the highest levels of… everything
jimin: i don’t want that half-hearted, ‘meh, i’ll be okay no matter what happens’ kind of love.
jimin: i want the ‘i don’t know what i’d do without you’ in the actual, literal sense
taehyung: hmm
taehyung: starting to feel like someone’s gone though his fair share of breakups
jimin: exactly. and i wish i’d never found out it’s possible to survive breakups with people you thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with
taehyung: most people would probably be relieved to realize this kind of thing won’t kill them…
jimin: well, taehyung-ah. i guess it’s time for you to realize i’m not Most People
taehyung: i’m way ahead of you.
5.
Taehyung doesn’t know when it became an unspoken rule for the two of them to take each other everywhere they go; in their pockets, their affection folded neatly into their phones and kept close to their heart in their breast pockets. Pictures sent back and forth, comparisons of weathers, of sunrises and sunsets and first snows and new levels of plus degrees. Sitcom episodes played at the same time, the chat box to the side never resting, full of laughter and comments and characters compared to the two of them — always so much to say, no matter the day, no matter the mood.
It’s not that Taehyung ever tries to fall in love with Jimin. It’s not that he ever even thinks about it. But sometimes, he thinks, that’s the only way to experience pure emotions. Having fun is easy, as long as you’re not consciously thinking about it, because the second you do, the doubt will start to seep in and you will come back to the ground, come back into your own head. So he doesn’t think about it. He’s aware of the flutters in his chest, but he leaves them to their own devices. They know what they’re doing, he decides.
Even when Jimin calls him for the first time, camera on and all, a little too tipsy to sit up. They both lie in bed that night, phones in front of their faces, and Taehyung gets to see Jimin’s alcohol-reddened nose and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. And that laughter, too — Taehyung can’t help but tease him just to hear his indignant grumbles dissolve into another batch of breathy laughter, and his toes tingle, tingle, tingle until eventually it’s so late that they both have to hang up and go to sleep.
Jimin wakes the next day without a hangover, and he tells Taehyung so, because that’s what they do now. They’re always together. Folded neatly in their breast pockets.
6.
“I thought about kissing you all day today.”
He hears the sound of Jimin’s lazy keyboard typing come to a sudden halt. Taehyung doesn’t even know why he says it – he’s so sleepy, his filter must be off, or maybe he’s gone one day too long without explicitly telling Jimin how he feels.
“I’m sorry, what?” Jimin says then, a little staticy through the phone.
“I don’t know,” Taehyung says. He’s in his bed, it’s late, and he buries his face in his pillow. He was supposed to be here as moral support as Jimin worked on his final thesis, he wasn’t supposed to bring his up– “Never mind. You heard nothing.”
“No, no,” Jimin says, “I definitely heard something, but my brain is short-circuiting. Could you say that again?”
He wants to think he hears a racing heartbeat in Jimin’s voice, but perhaps it’s just the sound of his own, echoing all the way to Jimin’s seat in front of his laptop. “I said I thought about kissing you all day today.”
There’s shuffling. “Let me just…” Jimin says, and then Taehyung thinks he hears the sound of Jimin’s laptop closing, then being pushed aside. “Okay. All day, you say?”
Taehyung nods to himself. “Mhm.”
“And how did that go for us?”
The tone of his voice tickles something deep within Taehyung’s stomach. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Taehyung and Jimin from that universe said it’s a secret.”
Jimin clicks his tongue, and Taehyung laughs, breathes out his nerves though it can’t stop his heart from beating so heart it might split down the middle. It’s not that there’s a lot at stake here – they both already knew, surely they must have, they’ve been dancing around this for months now, but now that it’s out there Taehyung suddenly can’t be sure whether he actually knew or if he was simply hoping.
“Not fair,” Jimin grumbles. “I want to know, too. You can’t keep this to yourself, I won’t be able to sleep tonight if you don’t tell me.”
“Maybe you should come see me,” Taehyung says. “Then you could see for yourself.”
He hears Jimin laugh. “Just tell me where, love.”
Love. As if it’s a command, Taehyung does.
8.
But it’s more complicated than that.
They’ve never met. They’ve never seen each other in their full-bodied glory. Yes, Taehyung has seen Jimin in photos, through videos, over video calls. He knows every angle of Jimin’s face, just never in 3D or more. And yes, many nights have passed in which they’ve gripped themselves in their most vulnerable moments and imagined so painfully vivid they could have caused a rift in the fabric of space and time, but they haven’t really been there. No matter how real it feels.
Taehyung may have fantasized 100 times, no, 200, no – how long has it been, at this point? It’s all starting to float together, just one long stretch of time in which he has wished for Jimin’s presence beside him, and feared it a little bit at the same time, just, just not enough not to want. The disbelief that someone like Jimin, that Jimin is willing to give him so much of his time refuses to fade, and Taehyung is proud, so, so proud that this human angel returns his feelings, but still he finds himself hiding it from the rest of his life. His family, his friends.
What would they say? What would they think? That Taehyung is getting catfished, that he’s kidding himself for thinking a situation like theirs could ever work out? That a relationship like theirs–
But Jimin isn’t his boyfriend. Is he? They haven’t talked about it. They act like boyfriends; they have for many months now, but neither of them has ever confessed any specific feelings or asked for a relationship. So what does he even have to hide?
He can’t put a name on it, exactly. He just knows it’s a lot.
10.
It takes a lot. More than they have, really.
Matching up the amount of money saved, aligning days off work and studies. It takes months, but eventually it happens.
“What if I came to see you in August?”
And Taehyung reels.
They look at hotels, at airbnbs, at tourist attractions in a city mostly unfamiliar to them both, and all of it looks like heaven. Even the cheapest hostels hosting beds with practically wooden mattresses look like an expensive resort when he imagines himself with Jimin there.
They plan. They spend. They imagine, they wait, they dream.
There’s a saying that goes, “time moves slow when half of your heart has yet to come home”, and Taehyung understands it down to every last little syllable.
12.
He almost tells Jimin he loves him one night. They’ve taken up playing computer games together, nothing too complicated and always co-op, yelling out for help in the microphone when the enemies are about to take them down, and doing stupid things to try and impress each other.
It’s good. It’s almost like Jimin is there with him. It’s in two ways, really; of course he wishes Jimin could sit next to him as they game, but he doesn’t want to complain, can’t complain about what they have now either. It can’t be compared. It can’t be downplayed.
And Jimin gets into it, cursing and shouting as he narrowly escapes the enemy’s grasp – and then he’s finally hit, and his body falls into a heap of metal. “Balls,” he says, his tone so defeated that Taehyung laughs out loud, and he catches himself at the last minute, the words so close to slipping off his tongue–
“I love you.”
He doesn’t say it. How could he know? Never having spent even five minutes in the same room with him, never having seen him at the end of a hard day, never having held his hand, never having experienced his irritation? How could he possibly know?
14.
But he knows.
16.
And though they’ve never been in the same room, he’s starting to wonder what he’d ever do without Jimin, too.
18.
Taehyung finds himself at the airport, waiting.
Ever the pessimist, Taehyung arrived at the airport before Jimin’s flight even took off, and now the stupid thing is delayed. He’s set up his fort on a bench just outside the arrivals gate, and now he sits there, shivering, shaking, nervous like never before, staring up at the board above the door that tells him Jimin’s flight is still delayed, but it’s estimated to arrive just before midnight now, so close, so close.
He doesn’t think it’s actually going to happen. That Jimin will walk out of that door soon– god knows when, but soon. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get to see him in the flesh, ever get to hold his hand. Soon, he’ll get a text and Jimin will tell him there was something wrong with the plane, they had to turn around and go back or land somewhere else or whatever else God could think up to keep them apart. It’s not happening. It was simply too good to be true.
He holds a single red rose in his hands. He wanted to do more, truly, but thinking of Taehyung and all the luggage he must have (they’re spending 10 days together – 10 whole days) he didn’t want to inconvenience him with a big bouquet of flowers. So a single rose it is.
I’M HERE, buzzes his phone.
He’s not sure if breathing is easier or harder. He shivers till his teeth clatters while he waits for Jimin to get off the plane, to find his way to baggage claim, for his bag to finally appear, and for Jimin to finally walk through that door, and then–
And then he does. Taehyung has his phone up, recording the moment Jimin turns his head and sees him. The moment he grips his bag tighter and runs, a tip-toeing sort of rush that makes Taehyung laugh, and then Jimin runs towards him and crashes into his embrace and–
His nerves breathe a sigh of relief. There’s nothing to worry about. Just as he’s always known.
Jimin is his safe haven.
Now his safe haven’s legs are shaking and Taehyung sits him down on the bench before he offers him the rose, and it colors Jimin’s cheeks, lights his tired eyes, and it’s a done deal.
It’s sealed once again.
They find a cab, and then it begins.
18.
Had anyone asked during their time apart, Taehyung would have said yes, of course he knows what Jimin looks like. He’s seen so many selfies at this point, so many videos recorded outside while on a walk; he’d be able to spot him in a crowd in a millisecond.
But when he watches Jimin unpack his bag at their hotel, he realizes how wrong he was. This Jimin is clearly the same ones from the photos, yes, the same voice from all the phone calls, but it’s all that and so much more. The eyes he adored, the face he would have died to cup in his hands, the full body he kept as his phone background – it’s all the same but so much better. It drives Taehyung up the wall as he sits by the foot of the bed, their bed, yet he feels completely at ease just sitting. Just watching. Just letting Jimin show him the items he brought, the things he wanted Taehyung to see.
It feels like a dream.
18.
The first night is calm. There’s pajama shirt against pajama shirt, relieved hands tugging each other close in the dark. It’s sweet, it’s an introduction.
But by the next day, after not even 24 hours of each other’s company, it all changes.
They’re kissing, rolling around on their hotel bed, hands slipping into items of clothing, tears welling up at the sight of naked skin, for the first time, relief at finally holding something real in their embrace, at having survived.
“I don’t know what I would have done–” Jimin begins, then looking up at Taehyung and faltering. “–if that stupid flight had been delayed for even five minutes longer.”
Taehyung thinks the same. If he has to wait another five minutes to split himself open and reunite Jimin with his heart, he might die. But Jimin’s careful kisses distract him, his hands trailing new paths up and down Taehyung’s inner thighs. He breathes in everything he’s wanted for the last 18 months, wondering how they ended up here, how Jimin permeated his life like this, like a drop of color in water.
“I love you,” Taehyung says, and he feels Jimin tense up with joy in his arms.
“I love you.”
It’s ten days of sunshine. Okay– one of those days they might end up under an umbrella in the midst of a storm, screaming and laughing in the wind, but even that experience burns bright in Taehyung’s mind with Jimin at his side.
20.
“I miss you,” Jimin sobs into the phone.
It’s not the first time Taehyung has heard him cry. Not the first time he has tried his best to emulate Jimin, what he would say to Taehyung in the same situation. Jimin was always the one who knew comfort. Jimin was always the rock.
“I miss you too,” Taehyung tells him back. It’s been two months now since they last saw each other, and they’ve spent much longer time than that apart before, but ever since they met up, time works differently. These two months feels longer than all the time they spent dancing around their love before they first met, and Taehyung doesn’t know why. Doesn’t know how it works.
“No, you don’t get it,” Jimin says, voice pained as more tears push up his throat. “Saying ‘I miss you’ doesn’t cover it.”
“I know, love,” Taehyung tells him while Jimin sniffles.
“No, you don’t,” Jimin repeats, then gives a broken laugh. He sounds sure of himself, but Taehyung doesn’t buy it for a second. Taehyung himself is not crying, that much is true, but that’s because Jimin is. Jimin always comes first. Always. Inside, Taehyung is going over his schedule, considering whether or not it’d be possible for him to get on the next best flight out tomorrow. “I might die like this,” Jimin says, laughs again to show he’s joking, but Taehyung knows he means it.
“I know,” he whispers back.
They have plans to see each other again, but it’s another two months away. Two months of falling asleep together on the phone at night, of watching movies and dramas and still playing that same old game. And it’s good, it’s all good, but sometimes all the things they’re trying not to think about crack through the protective bubble their love offers, and the longing causes sleepless nights like these – thinking about hands connecting even in sleep, about morning hair and lended clothes and lazy cuddles on the couch.
And by God, it hurts. Sometimes so much it frightens Taehyung, because what if Jimin can’t handle it? Taehyung can, he knows he can, because he made his choice. There’s nothing in this world that can turn him away from Jimin now. But Jimin, what if he decides they aren’t worth the pain, that he wants somebody closer, that he wants– different?
He fends the thoughts off. They won’t do any good, won’t help the situation, won’t make Taehyung feel better– and most of all, he trusts Jimin.
Just a little while, and they’ll be where they’re meant to be.
22.
An airport hotel in a foreign country, in a foreign city. Mouth-watering, inexpensive food. Holding each other in a hot shower, an awkward mirror facing them from across the room, but the image of them wrapped up in each other still somehow magical, and Taehyung finds himself unable to look away. Warm water wiped off with careful hands, towels wrapped around their waists, lounging around in bed watching feel-good TV on Jimin’s laptop. Hands clasped together, intent on enjoying what little time they have left. Positions switching, the laptop being stored away, kisses turning deeper. And then the sex, the sheets pulled out from beneath the mattress, heavy breathing launched at the ceiling.
A last night. The last of 14. Maybe the best of 14.
22.
Jimin keeps handing him tissues – more than Taehyung probably needs. It’s hard to say right now, though, as they stand together outside of security at the airport.
It’s Taehyung’s turn to leave this time. Last year he watched Jimin walk away from him in the airport, and somehow that was easier than this. All he had to do was sit down and let himself cry, watching Jimin enter through the gates and finally disappear, backpack on the conveyor belt. Yes, this is infinitely worse.
He clings to Jimin harder. Jimin hands him another tissue, as if he doesn’t need it himself. As if he isn’t crying just as hard as Taehyung is. As if they won’t dissolve, at this rate, and merge into one being, into one puddle on the dirty airport floor. That’ll be better, Taehyung thinks. At least then there’ll be no need to board any stupid planes, no need to move or go anywhere without Jimin right beside him, like it’s supposed to be.
They have no plan for their next meetup right now. Life is getting complicated again, studies and work teaming up to keep them apart. And Taehyung tries not to worry, truly, he does – enough of this pessimism now – but it’s hard. His mind wants him to wonder, what would happen if he never saw Jimin again? But the thought is too big, too hard to handle, too horrible to entertain.
Instead, he kisses Jimin again – a wet kiss – and tears himself away. The staff will have to look at him like he’s insane, all red eyes and snotty nose, but he doesn’t care. It’s better that way, because it’s not like he can stop even if he tries.
He doesn’t look back on his way through security.
26.
A scene comes on the drama they’re watching together (while apart); a couple reuniting at an airport. As soon as the man appears through the arrivals gate, the woman sprints at him, throwing herself into his arms, trusting that he’ll catch her.
“TURN THIS SHIT OFF!” Jimin yells through the phone, and Taehyung laughs so hard he almost retches.
He understands, though. But the pain is slowly turning into a dull ache in his heart, and he knows how to read it now. It’s simply a prerequisite for their reunion. Like that other saying that goes, “it costs farewell tears for a welcome home parade”.
Any day now. The plans are in the making. Soon, he’ll be back where he’s meant to be.
27.
Time piles up. It’s almost scary when Taehyung thinks about it, how quickly time passes, how long they’ve been together while apart. How used he is to having Jimin with him over the phone every night, to waking up first and lying awake waiting for Jimin to wake up, too, so that he can say good morning.
All that time passed, all that time still passing – it means something. Something Taehyung can’t put words on. He gathers it all up in his hands and beats his inner pessimist over the head with it when he gets too loud, too worried, too anxious – thinking too much about what he’d do if Jimin changed his mind, if he decided he didn’t want Taehyung.
He almost succeeds.
38.
It’s a good thing Jimin has an eye for decor, because Taehyung can’t say he does. He likes a lot of things, yes, but putting them together in a way that makes a house feel like a home – that’s truly Jimin’s domain.
Candles here, another plant there. Jimin will lecture him on the importance of proper structure and storage until the cows come home, and Taehyung will listen intently until the last word. He won’t absorb any of it, but that’s probably for the best: Jimin enjoys doing it for the both of them, anyway.
39.
They change the sheets in their new bed for the first time. In between moving and decorating and strategizing, between Taehyung working and Jimin on the hunt for a job in this new country, somehow life has begun again without their knowledge.
This is it. This is their life. Hands connecting even in sleep, morning hair and shared clothes and lazy cuddles on the couch. Everything Taehyung has ever asked for, everything Jimin has ever promised him. It is all coming true, and Taehyung is still waiting for time to catch up to him. For his inner pessimist to choke on all this positivity, on every single dream come true.
It won’t seem to happen, but Taehyung thinks it might, given time.
44.
Taehyung wakes up in the middle of the night, his dry mouth and parched throat suddenly screaming out for water. He lingers for a little while, trying to determine whether he can ignore it and go back asleep, or if he’ll have to get up and get something to drink. He perks up his ears in the silence, listening for the tell-tale sounds of paws against the floor in the hallway. Dog, probably, if he hears any at all – the cats are too quiet, too sneaky – but there’s nothing. The whole family is asleep.
Eventually his thirst wins, and he pulls himself out of bed as slowly as he can not to stir Jimin’s sleeping form next to him, his back against him, always, always the little spoon. Jimin doesn’t move an inch, so Taehyung relaxes as he heads into the kitchen and grabs a bottle from the fridge, gulping down a few mouthfuls of water until he feels something furry rub up against his leg and he almost chokes – but he looks down, then, and sees one of their cats looking back up at him through the darkness. She looks offended that he disrupted her sleep, and he bends down, muttering apologies as he pets her. “I’ll go back to bed,” he promises, and she runs from his touch as if to say “you’d better”.
With no other choice but to obey their little four-legged landlord, Taehyung puts the water bottle back in the fridge and heads back to the bedroom, shivering a little at the cold against his bare arms. They’re heading into winter, and he thought maybe this time he wouldn’t need to wear pajamas since Jimin will be there, always keeping him warm, but now he’s starting to rethink his choice. Turns out Jimin is better at keeping his heart warm than he is at warming up his toes, at the end of the day.
He sneaks back into the bedroom and sits down at his side of the bed, freezing when Jimin turns, his eyelids fluttering and his lips parting just so, drunk on sleep. Taehyung smiles down at him, at the man now four years older than the day they met on Twitter.
Four years, with so many more to come. There’s not a doubt in Taehyung’s mind.
His heart clenches as he slides under the sheets next to him, breath suddenly catching in his throat; the need to tell Jimin he loves him so strong it’s overwhelming. But Jimin needs to work tomorrow and it’s the middle of the night, he doesn’t want to wake him –
Tomorrow. They have all the time in the world. The rest of their lives. Tomorrow morning, he’ll tell Jimin he loves him for the millionth time.
It feels almost like that foreboding moment in a book, Taehyung thinks then, pulse spiking: one character chooses to wait to tell another how much they mean to him, but before he gets a chance the other character disappears, inexplicably.
For a minute or two, Taehyung lies staring at the ceiling, caught in the grip of the thought of losing Jimin.
He listens to the sound of Jimin’s breathing. This is not a book, he reminds himself. Tomorrow morning, Jimin will wake up just a few minutes later than him, the way he always does, and the first words out of Taehyung’s mouth will be to tell him how much he loves him, and everything will be okay.
Enough of his pessimism, now.
44.
And the next morning, he wakes up to Jimin already awake, sitting up in bed next to him, and two lumps of cat by the foot of the bed.
“Morning,” Jimin tells him, voice still raspy with sleep, and Taehyung remembers.
“I love you,” he blurts, hoarse.
Jimin laughs.
“What’s so funny,” Taehyung complains, rubbing at his eyes.
“You’re cute when you’re sleepy. And I love you, too.”
He kisses Taehyung on the forehead, but then his foot under the sheets is attacked by a playful cat, and their peaceful morning is broken.
And Taehyung thinks he understands now how to love like it’s a matter of life and death, and it doesn’t feel destructive at all.