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October (MYG x F!Reader) - Oneshot

Pairing: Min Yoongi x F!OC/Reader

Genres: interns!AU, heavy heavy heavy ANGST (you have been warned), sfw

Warnings: ANGST (did I say that already), a story about love that’s not a love story, some cursing, mentions of traumatic accident and brain injury/coma, mentions of hospitals and medical issues, mentions of life support and end-of-life-care, mentions of miscarriage, sadness and just generally people being assholes (including Yoongi), MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, please be kind to yourself and don’t read if any of these things make you uncomfortable or sad (your wellbeing is valued and important)

Word count: 8.3k

Summary: Yoongi can’t remember his life before the fall. He doesn’t want to either - being with you while the mugunghwas bloom is enough.

A/N: Hi everyone! Putting this out there that this is probably the longest (and angstiest) thing I’ve ever written, and I cried a lot while writing it. This story is based on the Bollywood movie October, which is single handedly one of the most amazing films I’ve ever seen in my life. This story deals with heavy topics (read at your own discretion), but I really tried my best to use my healthcare knowledge and some research to make this an honest portrayal. I recommend reading Being Mortal by Atul Gawande if this topic interests you more. Honestly, it was a journey for me to write this, and although it’s very sad, I’m really proud of it, and if you choose to read it, I hope it speaks to you in some way. Also, big thanks to Suzie (@lcksndkys) for beta-reading this and helping out on the medical side of things (she’s the best, pls give her a follow)!

November

“Hello, welcome to the Signiel, how may I help you today?” your chipper voice cuts through the din of the hotel lobby, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Yes, can you tell us what’s good to see in your city?” The man’s accent is foreign, but kind. He seems genuinely in awe of the posh decor that surrounds him, and the subtle chill emanating from the sliding doors as they woosh open and close.

“Ah yes, there’s so much to see in Seoul! There’s Gyeongbokgung Palace, the Samsung Museum of Art, Namdameun Market…,” you drone on, sharply aware of a pair of cat-like eyes gazing at you from the corner of the lobby.

Your fellow intern Yoongi is there, mopping away at the already pristine marble floors, likely cursing his entire existence for accepting this internship. As interns, you expected you’d be in charge of greeting guests, taste testing the house specialties and coordinating events.

However, the menial tasks were a surprise. Sweeping floors, doing laundry, flushing toilets. Most of the interns, including you, took it in stride. Yoongi, however, was different.

Your eyes can’t look away from him as you watch him furiously mop, back and forth, back and forth, so hard you think he’ll knock the dirty bucket of water over and Manager Im will have his head.

Eventually his movements slow, coming to a complete halt. He lets out a deep sigh, the rich baritone of his voice cutting through the monotony of voices and travelling to your equally tired ears. He’s turned away from you now, instead staring wistfully at the beautiful grand piano tucked away in the corner, its pristine facade reflecting every tiny moment happening in the lobby with immaculate detail.

Glancing back towards the guests, you muster up another smile and offer them their room keys. When you look up again, Yoongi’s gone.

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The clinking of champagne flutes and the echoes of footsteps can be heard as you prepare for tonight’s event. A wedding - one of Seoul’s richest CEOs marries its biggest social butterfly.

You remember reading the groom’s name in a magazine somewhere, and now it currently dwells at the back of your mind. Kim Taehyung? That sounds familiar.

Banishing the intrusive thoughts of handsome Mr. Kim from your mind, you turn back to the task at hand. Napkins should be perfectly folded, not a single crease visible, and the edges should be neat and even with one another. Flowers go in the specific order indicated on your index cards, and candles should be placed in the center of the table, far enough away from the edge that they don’t fall and burn the whole place down.

As you finish placing the last flowers on the table, you’re rammed into by someone. The petals scatter to the ground, the petals creating a large mess where a sophisticated centerpiece should have been.

“Shit, sorry, I-. Here, let me help you,” the person groans out, ennui evident in their listless tone.

“Hi Yoongi! How are you today?” you greet him, carefully bending down and tenderly picking up each stray petal. The mugunghwa flowers feel soft in between the pads of your fingers, their smell light and sweet.

Yoongi lets out a sharp grunt of acknowledgement, as he hunches over and desperately shoves the flowers back into your hands, like a man possessed. As the last bloom finds his way back to you, he nods and makes his way towards Manager Im standing all the way by the stage.

Trying your best to refocus your attention, you catch the faint wind of their seemingly unpleasant conversation from where you stand.

“Need off on the 30th and 31st -- parent’s anniversary -- silver jubilee.”

“Hotel at full occupancy -- should know better -- go get a haircut and stop bothering me please.”

“Fucking fine, keep me here to do your dirty work, then. All I’m asking for is a job that’s worth my qualifications, you know, like the fucking degree I’m supposed to be getting for this?”

You wince at Yoongi’s last comment, knowing the words ring painfully true yet no one else is brave enough to voice them. Manager Im doesn’t bat an eye, ushering Yoongi away with a sweep of his arms and moving on to another part of the room.

As he huffs past you to leave the room, you offer a weak smile Yoongi’s way.

“Thank you for your help picking up the flowers again, Yoongi! I’ll see you later.”

Shoes tapping against the marble, he lifts his head but doesn’t turn as he makes his way out of the ballroom, failing to spare a single glance in your direction.

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December 31st

“You know what your problem is Yoongi? You’re constantly annoyed,” Yeri drawls, scowling as the whipped cream topping her coffee drips onto the ground.

You swing your legs from side to side on the curb, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi as he pushes himself out from underneath the hood of your car.

“You know why I’m irritated? It’s because I’m constantly surrounded by you two,” he gestures to you both and scoffs.

“Yah, don’t tell me you’re annoyed about me calling you irritating,” Yeri’s voice goes shrill as Yoongi flips her off, slinging his bag around his shoulder and walking over to his motorbike.

“Thank you for the oil change Yoongi!” you shout, but your voice is drowned out by the whirring of the engine as it fades away, the bike zooming down the road and away from you both.

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Tinsel and fairy lights shimmer along the vast hallway as Yoongi vacuums the carpet that is now full of glitter from the guests’ merrymaking. Despite the cheery exterior scene, the inside of Yoongi’s headset is blaring Seo Taji and the Boys, not Deck the Halls.

He’d unceremoniously landed himself in hot water with Im again, his frustration getting the best of him. Not surprisingly, Im had retaliated by putting him on cleaning duty the one night he knew all the interns were having their holiday party.

Yoongi groans loudly, blinking his eyes and letting his mind travel. If just thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine the bass thumping outside, the clinking of glasses as the drunkest one in the batch gets up to make their yearly toast… he can imagine you, full of warmth and laughter, sparing a smile for everyone you come across.

Yoongi hates that he can’t hate you like he does the others. That you’re always asking him about his day, thanking him for doing the bare minimum when he could be doing more, appreciative of his mere presence when all Im and the others want is for him to get lost. To disappear.

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“Yah, Namjoon, why are you on the ground again, are you drunk?” Yeri screeches, trying her best to lift up the gentle giant of a man who’s made himself at home on the grass by the pool.

“Druuuunk onnnn youuuuu babyyyy!” Namjoon shouts with vigor. Namjoon’s candid behavior has you smirking to yourself, thinking how nice it is to see the kind, reserved intern let loose and enjoy himself a little. Yeri seems to be enjoying it too, a faint blush coloring her cheeks despite the grimace on her face.

“A toast,” Seokjin, the broad shouldered senior intern exclaims, “to another year gone by!”

“Happy New Year!!” The chorus is loud and raucous.

Glasses are raised and hors d'oeuvres consumed, the golden lights twinkling in the night.

“Seokjin, another drink?” Yeri reaches out, offering up a beer in her hand.

“Nahhh, I’m okay,” he counters. “Besides, gotta drive home with Yoongi at the end of the night, you know how it is.

“Come to think of it,” you ponder. “I haven’t even seen him, where is Yoongi?”

You hoist yourself up onto the railing, dizzy from the effects of the alcohol reaching your head.

You feel the wet, slippery dew drops against your fingers and suddenly, nothing.

Slipping through space, the air whooshes around you as you fall, staring up at the sparkling lights one final time before you hear a loud thump and everything fades to black.

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“Patient is in acute respiratory distress —- I’m having trouble finding a pulse --- might need intubation,” the static crackles through the radio.

Yoongi was slumped against the hallway, eyes closed. Lost in a dream world of allegros and sonatas, he’s jolted awake by the jarring dissonance of a wrong note. Blearily, he rubs his eyes, but the note remains prolonged, piercing his eardrums.

It’s a siren. His pupils dilate as the bright red lights hit them. Something’s wrong.

Yoongi doesn’t know when he started running, or how, just that he’s skirting on death’s edge, skipping stairs two at a time, making his way down the emergency staircase to the ground floor exit.

He’s greeted with the sight of Manager Im, face blanched and brows furrowed, speaking to a police officer.

“Her name is ___. She fell from the third floor swimming pool, but normally no one goes there.”

The officer nods along, jotting Im’s statement down on a notepad, and it’s then that Yoongi turns and sees the blood.

A pool of it, and you, in the middle. Before he can even think, EMTs are strapping you in and lifting you onto a stretcher.

“Current status, 23 y/o F patient who will need mechanical ventilation, sedated, no movement. Pulse 110”, the voice blares through the megaphone.

All Yoongi can do is tremble, Seokjin coming to wrap an arm around him. He watches the ambulance as it drives away, wondering where and when everything decided to go so wrong.

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January 2nd

The fragrant perfume of gochujang and crackling of oil permeates the air as Yoongi pulls up to the tteokbokki stall, shaking out his windswept helmet hair from the frantic drive over.

Seokjin gives him a pitiful glance, Yeri and Namjoon both avoiding eye contact.

Yoongi decides to speak up first. “Dude, you could have told me what happened that night.

“Yoongi, I called you. I must have left at least 15 messages.”

“Listen up, interns,” Im sneers. “You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, okay? Not until the police report is complete. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Manager,” Yeri and Namjoon answer monotonously, Seokjin nodding along.

“Min,” Im says, “here’s an extra entry pass. Go and see her, and report straight back to me afterwards.”

Yoongi gapes at the keycard Im hands him, unsure of how to breathe.

“Yoongi,” Yeri breathes out, struggling to hold back tears. “Go and see her. 3rd floor, neuro ICU, bed 28.”

Yoongi steps backwards. One step. Another. He feels as though he’s dragging his feet through a pool of quicksand. If he doesn’t get on the bike, he wouldn’t be able to go to the hospital. He wouldn’t be able to see ___, broken and bruised. He would be able to pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was normal, that you’d pop up out of nowhere and say “Hi Yoongi!” with that wide smile of yours.

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“Dr. Sungchul Kim, please report to the cardiology department.”

The loudspeakers are garish and blaring, befitting of a circus rather than the serious, sterile institution Yoongi finds himself in.

Yoongi thought the behind the scenes of the hotel was the most depressing thing ever, but he was wrong. The white walls and the smell of antiseptic taunt him, reminding him of the way these walls act as a prison for lives barely hanging on. Lives like ___’s.

As he approaches the ward, he can make out a haggard looking woman with kind eyes, conversing with a police officer towering over her.

“___ was a good girl. She would never drink alcohol so recklessly, and all her friends at the hotel were such good influences. I know my daughter. She didn’t just fall, someone pushed her.”

“Ma’am,” the police officer starts, “I understand your concern, but we have to consider all possible options here.”

The officer’s conversation with your mother drifts away as Yoongi finds himself at the entrance of the neuro ICU. The guard gestures for him to remove his shoes and sanitize his hands.

Then, Yoongi is ushered into room #28 with a gust of cold air following behind him. He wonders if you were cold when you fell. He hopes not.

He tiptoes through the room, silent, as if one wrong footfall could wake any of the patients in here. People who sleep but don’t dream, don’t know when or if they’ll wake up.

At the end, towards the window, he stops and sees you. Small and frail-looking, bright spots of red and purple littering your entire face. They’ve cut off your hair, he muses. He remembers how you always used to wear it in a tight, neat bun, and how keeping it off your face highlighted your eyes.

And the tubes. There’s so many. Yoongi counts 19 in total, all hooked up to different machines and making their way into your body. He wonders what they’re all for, how they manage to keep you alive when you look anything but.

The nurse comes by to change your IV, and Yoongi feels sick. He’s an intruder, and he doesn’t belong here. Doesn’t deserve to be here. He turns on his heels and walks out of the ward, the monotonous beeping never leaving his head the whole time.

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January 16th

It’s hot and muggy in the apartment, the pressure cooker letting out the last bits of steam as Seokjin scoops out an even portion of rice, placing a perfectly shaped dome on Yoongi’s plate.

Silence was never an issue between the two of them, but now, it feels overwhelming. Like both of them have forgotten how to speak, forgotten how to live.

The days since the accident have all passed like this, in still and stagnancy.

“I still can’t get over how swollen her face was, and did you see all those tubes?” Yoongi’s voice is gruff, hoarse from days of no use, from keeping his head down and changing sheets and mopping floors.

Seokjin stares at him questioningly, wondering why Yoongi chose to broach this topic of conversation when they haven’t spoken in a week.

“I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me just standing there,” Yoongi drawls on.

“Is that why you never went back? I’ve been there twice already, you know. Namjoon has gone at least three times, and Yeri goes as soon as she gets off work every day.”

“I-, it’s not that, it’s the machines. They make it hard to concentrate,” Yoongi counters, feeling ashamed that while he was lost in a haze, his fellow interns were using their free time to visit the hospital.

“She asked about you, you know? Right before she fell. She asked, “Where is Yoongi?””

The same feeling of sickness from the ICU washes over Yoongi again, his breath heaving and palms becoming clammy. He wishes he could admit himself into the hospital too, maybe then he wouldn’t feel so guilty.

“Bro, something’s wrong with the food, it doesn’t taste right today” Yoongi starts, hauling himself up off the ground. “I’m gonna go to the tteokbokki stand and eat. You want anything?”

Seokjin looks up at him, cheeks full of food. “It tastes fine to me.”

“Alright then, see ya later man.” The door closes on a concerned looking Seokjin, as Yoongi makes his way out to the parking spot.

The cool air on his face has Yoongi feeling lighter, breathing easier, and he feels brave enough to detour from the tteokbokki stand and follow the green and white exit sign to Seoul National University Hospital.

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Inside, the ward air suffocates Yoongi once more, as he makes his way to room 28.

He sees your mother again, and another smaller version of you, trapped in yet another conversation, this time with the doctor. A sister maybe? He always thought you were an only child. Yoongi surprises himself constantly with how much he never knew about you, how much he could’ve found out if only he took a chance.

Passing by, neither of them fail to acknowledge the blonde haired boy making his way into ___’s room. Glancing again towards the end of the bed, he sees the same nurse from last time, clipboard in hand, recording your vital signs.

She takes notice of him lingering behind her. “Are you family?”

Yoongi shakes his head no.

“Her boyfriend then?” Another shake of his head.

“The other boy that was here, is he her boyfriend?” Yoongi’s throat tightens, but he somehow manages to croak out a no.

“Sir, if you don’t have a reason to be here, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I hope you understand, these are the rules.”

She beckons Yoongi out of the room. He turns and gives ___ one final wave, passing the two women on his way out, before being cast out into the frigid chill of the winter air once more.

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February

“Off again, Yoongi?!” Namjoon calls out, as the door shuts in front of him, and he and Seokjin hear the kickstart of the motorbike once more.

Yoongi’s been disappearing multiple times a week, firing up his bike and blazing through gas money. Somehow he always ends up at the hospital. Sometimes, he’s brave enough to go in and spend a minute, or five, or ten by your side. Sometimes he just lingers outside the ward, especially when he sees the nurse go on. Most of the time, he just sits outside on the bench, listening to conversations between the doctors and staff that work there. Yoongi would consider himself halfway to an MD based on the things he’s overheard sometimes.

Today, though, he’s possessed by the unknown urge to see you again. To check up on you. Maybe it’s based on the conversation he overheard last week between your mother and the doctor. About how you’re in a deep coma, and neither awake or alert. About how your case might be hopeless. He hears your sister cry, your brother (who he’d seen recently) with the doe eyes suck in a gasp, and your mother plead to give them some more time.

He wants to tell you that time’s running out, that you need to wake up soon or everything will be over. And yet, he wants someone to be gentle with you. To tell you that despite how hard it is, you can take all the damn time in the world. Just as long as you keep trying, keep fighting.

“Excuse me sir? This is a day pass.” The guard outside the hospital stops Yoongi.

“Shit, I-, I left my night pass at home. Can you just let me in please? I have to speak to someone, it won’t take long at all.”

“No entry without a pass, sir. Rules are rules.”

“Fuck, listen, I just need like five minutes please? I’ve been coming here everyday, they recognize me. I really need to speak to her.”

“No entry without a pass,” the guard becomes aggressive, pushing Yoongi away. Yoongi struggles in his grip, cursing out the guard with every breath, but he finds himself back on the curb, head held in his hands.

“Excuse me? I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re looking for a night pass. You can borrow mine.”

Yoongi stares up at the mellifluous voice, and does a double take. Kim Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung whose wedding he’d coordinated mere months ago. Before the fall.

“Are you sure you don’t need it?”

“I’m Kim Taehyung, I can get another hospital pass any time I want. My wife’s in the hospital for pregnancy complications. She’s staying for a few days, but I know she’ll be okay. That we’ll be okay. You, on the other hand, don’t seem so sure. Take it, please.”

“Mr. Kim --- Taehyung --- sir, thank you. Thank you so much. I hope your wife is okay.” Yoongi’s gummy smile shows for the first time in a long time, as he snatches the pass and presents it to the guard standing there with an astounded look on his face.

Kim Taehyung watches the other man with a wistful smile. Give a life, save a life. He and his wife couldn’t save their baby, but maybe for the man with the gummy smile and the sad eyes, there was hope yet.

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“Hey. Hey ___. Wake up.” Yoongi whispers, flailing his arms around, trying to catch your attention.

He yearns to reach out and stroke the short spikes of hair that now adorn your head, hoping that a tender touch would jolt you to life.

“___, wake up please. I have something important to tell you.”

Yoongi feels the tears building up in his eyes, and he wants to fall to the floor from exhaustion. Working shifts at the hotel, then coming here and spending time with you. He wants everything to go back to the way it was before.

“You wanted to know where I was that day? The day you fell? Actually I was…. I wasn’t around. I wasn’t there.”

Yoongi chokes the words out, reaching behind his head to ruffle his hair and relieve the nervous itch that has built up in his bones.

That night, Yoongi sleeps on a bench outside, the bitter tang of tears and unspoken apologies clogging his throat.

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March

For the first time in months, Yoongi wakes up and heads to work on time. The hospital was important, but today, the hotel housed something even more important. ___’s car.

The abandoned red station wagon is parked in the same spot outside the hotel, collecting dust that flies away with each gust of the spring breeze.

“What do you need this time?” Yeri’s voice is clipped and harsh as she approaches Yoongi by the parking lot.

“Did uh, ___ ever talk about me? Like in college?”

“Are you kidding me Yoongi? That’s what you called me over to talk about?”

“Yeri, please! I need to know.”

“No, Yoongi! No! We had better things to talk about than your lazy ass! Why would she have cared?!”

“But she did Yeri! Why would she have asked about me before she fell? And none of you thought to tell me either! People’s last words are special, they’re not just something you can ignore!”, Yoongi is roaring, rage boiling in his veins.

“Look Yoongi, I really don’t think she was interested in you. You guys were too different. Now, if that’s all, both you and I should get back to work,” Yeri says icily.

“Fuck that, I’m out of here. See you around, Yeri.”

. . .

“Hey!” Yoongi gestures to the valet, pointing at the station wagon. “Do you have the keys for this?”

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Your mother is a professor, Yoongi muses. Another thing I didn’t know about her, he ponders to himself as he pulls the now shiny and sparkling station wagon into the driveway of your family home. Your mother steps out onto the porch, wide-eyed and shocked at seeing the familiar vehicle being driven by such an unfamiliar person.

“You’re the one from the hospital. How did you get our address?” her tone is laced with shock and surprise.

“My name’s Yoongi, I was one of ___’s fellow interns. I got your address from Yeri. I’m sorry for not letting you know in advance that I was coming, but I thought it was time to return the car to where it belonged.”

Tears fill the old woman’s eyes as she breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Would you like to come in for some tea?”

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Everywhere Yoongi looks, baby pictures of you adorn the walls. You’re alone in some of them. In others, you’re accompanied by a mini you and a doe eyed boy. The common theme among all of them is that your smile is bright, eyes wide and filled with kindness. You’re happy. He’d never seen you any other way until the fall.

“Yoongi,” your mother calls out. “Please come and sit.”

She clears her throat, starting again. “Between here and the hospital, things have been so hectic, we forgot all about the car. Thank you for bringing it back for us.”

“You know,” Yoongi speaks, startling everyone at the table. “When I was a small child, I fractured my left arm. It should have healed in three weeks but it didn’t. I thought I’d never be able to play piano again. But eventually it healed. In the same way, ___ should have been okay by now, and she’s not. But she will be. She just needs a little more time.”

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April

The underside of ___’s bed has become a familiar place to Yoongi. Every day, he checks the bag filled with yellow fluid underneath, using it as his one sign that ___ is still alive.

“Nurse, isn’t her urine output a little more than usual today? What could that mean?”

Nurse, unfortunately, has never warmed up to Yoongi in the few months they’ve known each other.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Yoongi flashes his teeth and lets out a gummy smile. “You’re right, I actually do have something I need to do. Bye, ___. See you soon.”

The little girl is anticipating Yoongi’s arrival in the waiting room. He plops down on the seat next to her, and pulls out a book from his bag.

“How much longer until your mom has the baby?”, he asks.

“I don’t know,” she whines. “You should ask the baby.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles, flipping open the pages of the book. “Now where did we last leave off? I think our hero was about to fight the mighty dragon…”

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The bland mush of the hospital café’s offerings leaves a strange taste at the back of Yoongi’s throat. Huddled around a table all together, ___’s uncle is the first to speak.

“I’ve seen cases like this before. I think we should pull the plug. If she has to live like this, like a vegetable, what’s the point of torturing her? She won’t even recognize us anymore, is that what you really want?”

“Please Won-jae, don’t start again with the negativity,” your mother looks this close to losing it, hair frazzled and clothes rumpled.

Yoongi clears his throat, startling the table guests once again. He notices they all seem intimidated by him, as if he’s a stranger that makes them uncomfortable, scared to admit their hopelessness.

“Just because she can’t recognize you, that doesn’t mean you can’t recognize her. She’s still the same ___.”

“I think he’s right,” the shy boy with the doe eyes speaks up. Yoongi had recently learned your younger brother’s name. Jungkook. The younger boy had looked at Yoongi with stars in his eyes, asking him for help with his homework and talking to him at any chance he could get. Yoongi would spend every second of the day with Jungkook and your younger sister Sooyoung if it meant the sadness in their eyes would disappear little by little.

“Anyway,” Yoongi says. “I have to get going. I’ll make sure to stop by the pharmacy and get ___’s medications before I leave. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

“No, Yoongi.” Your mother offers him a faint smile, tenderness in her gaze. “You’ve done more than enough.”

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May

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at the hospital these days,” Seokjin says the moment Yoongi walks in the door. “I was beginning to think I’d never seen you at home again either. Not like I see you at work these days anyway.”

Yoongi ignores him, leafing through the fridge for anything to eat. He finds nothing. Disappointed, he slams the door shut, Seokjin’s broad frame cornering him against the fridge.

“Only like the taste of hospital food now?”

“What the fuck is your problem, Seokjin? If you have something to say, just spit it out.”

“Fine. I will. I’ve covered 6 of your shifts over the past month. Yeri has covered 4, and Namjoon has covered 3. I can’t afford the apartment anymore because I’m the only one bringing money in since you never come to work, and I’m this close to asking Namjoon to move in with me.”

“Your point is?”

“You know what it is Yoongi! Why are you doing this? What was she to you anyway, it’s not like she was your best friend. The doctors said it themselves, her chances of survival are low.”

“Seokjin, you’re telling me you only do something when there’s a 100% chance it’ll work out? If there’s a chance, even a small chance that she’ll make it, I have to help.”

“Yoongi, you have to start living in the real world again. What you’re doing isn’t practical. You’re not helping anyone - not me, not you, and not her.”

“Don’t you dare say that, Seokjin. Don’t you dare,” Yoongi wants to continue on, but is interrupted by the blaring of his ringtone. ___’s mother. Seokjin looks at the phone, daring him to pick it up, to confirm his suspicions that Yoongi is no longer capable of rational thought when it comes to you.

Accept call. With no hesitation, Yoongi leaves his best friend and roommate behind, revving up his motorbike and disappearing into the night once more.

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“___ has had a massive stroke. While her brain activity spiked, she wasn’t able to regain control of her movements. It’s likely she’ll be paralyzed for life.”

The doctors deliver the crushing blow to the family huddled in the stairwell, Yoongi standing in the corner beside them.

“You heard what the doctor said, and yet you still foolishly cling onto hope. Why can’t you all just be practical for once? What kind of a person would want to live like this?” Won-jae’s biting words cut through the air, and Yoongi can see their devastating effects, watching the hope slowly drain from your family’s eyes.

There were many socially unacceptable things Yoongi would like to say to your uncle right now, but for the sake of avoiding chaos, he decides to be gentle instead.

“Maybe she wants to live like this. Maybe she wants to live, period. Maybe she doesn’t. In any case, who are we to decide that for ___?”

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“Your uncle has the patience of a wild boar,” Yoongi says to you. He hopes you’re listening, that you can hear his rant. It’s not like Seokjin wants to speak to him anymore, so he only has you to let it out to.

“So what if you need the machines for a little longer? There are times when my motorbike doesn’t start either. So then, I just give it a good kick and it starts. The machines will do the same for you, so just bear with it ___. Okay? Just bear with it for me. For us.”

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June

The chill air of the morning greets Yoongi the moment he steps out onto his balcony, craving the iced Americano he always used to get from the hotel kitchen. The hospital coffee is absolute shit, he decides. And it wasn’t like he had money to afford fancy coffee from any of the cafés surrounding it. Seokjin had stopped loaning him money long ago, instead preferring to sulk with Namjoon and Yeri any chance he got.

A strange sight greets him across the parking lot. His bike, perched against a blooming tree, covered in a fresh blanket of mugunghwa flowers. He hadn’t even noticed the seasons changing, the sterile white walls of the hospital obscuring every ray of light that dared filter in through the windows.

An idea crosses Yoongi’s mind. He chucks on his sandals and makes his way to the carpark. Kneeling by his bike, he painstakingly picks up every single blossom, the light floral scent permeating his senses.

Not less than fifteen minutes later, he’s dumping the blooms out onto your hospital bed, dozing off in the chair next to your bed as he prepares for the long day ahead.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wakes to the appalled gasps and shrieks of the nurses, rubbing his eyes and balking at the sight before him. Your nostrils. They’re moving. You’re breathing on your own.

Dr. Sungyuk Park is by your bedside, the most renowned neurosurgeon in all of South Korea. The man who knows everything seems lost for words, and behind him, he sees Sooyoung and Jungkook hugging your mother tightly, tears in their eyes.

“Coma patients can often respond to strong external stimuli, like the smell of these flowers. In this case, it’s a very positive sign that we’re on the right track,” Dr. Park explains, and Yoongi feels the burden upon his shoulders lift with each word.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

July

“____, today at 5am, you opened your eyes. You’re doing very good, I want you to try to do a little bit more? Can you do that for me?” Dr. Park’s voice echoes across the ward.

Yoongi can’t believe it. A month ago, he brought the mugunghwa flowers to you. In that time, you’ve started slowly waking, coming back to life before him and your family’s eyes.

He rests a hand on your mother’s shoulders, fearing that the poor woman may fall over from sheer joy.

“I want you to look to your left for me,” Dr. Park continues, your orbs bloodshot but still beautiful to Yoongi’s own eyes following his finger slowly and precisely.

“Aaaand to your right please,” you follow seamlessly, the opening of your eyes mark the beginning of a new chapter in your story.

As Dr. Park steps out, your mother rushes to your bedside, gently reaching out to stroke the long bangs that now fall over your face.

“Unnie,” Sooyoung cries. “Your hair is so pretty now Unnie. Now please get better, Unnie. Get better so that we can all go home soon.”

“It’s been too long,” your mother sobs, collapsing against Jungkook. “It’s been too long without you, my daughter. Please come back. Come back soon.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sweat drips down Yoongi’s back, restaurant duty causing him to hover between the dining room and the kitchen behind it, cleaning up scraps, carrying plates, and bussing tables. Manager Im has him working double duty on probation, threatening that if he doesn’t show up for his shifts, his degree will be terminated and he’ll never graduate from the management program.

Normally, Yoongi wouldn’t have minded the hours. In fact, the old Yoongi would have taken this chance at redemption in stride. The new Yoongi, however, is filled with butterflies. He longs to see you every day, to see your pretty eyes looking up at him, to ask you how your day went.

The other day, Sooyoung ran up to him and hugged him tightly, saying that after just two weeks, you’d moved from being able to open your eyes to croaking out words.

Eomma had been your first. Garbled in tone, but the meaning crystal clear. Sooyoung had been with you all week, trying to teach you the syllables.

“SOO-YUNG,” she lisped out, the air escaping between her two buck teeth. “Soon you’ll learn my name too, Unnie!”

Yoongi’s thoughts are interrupted by a plate being shoved towards him.

“Excuse me, waiter boy? Are you even paying attention? I told you to take this food back.”

“Why,” Yoongi seethes. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Don’t talk to me in that tone! This food already tastes like shit and we’re paying for it, bring us something else on the house.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, putting on his customer service voice. “I’m sorry the meal wasn’t to your satisfaction. Unfortunately, I can’t refund the order completely. I’m sure we can bring you another replacement that’ll be more to your liking.”

The man sneers, disdain evident in their expression. “Listen to me you fucking nobody, your job is to make people like me happy. You don’t have a life. I control your paycheck, and therefore I control your life. So, it’ll do you good to just shut up and do what I say.”

White hot rage blinds Yoongi’s vision, and before he knows it, the plate is clattering to the ground and his fist is flying into the asshole’s face. A scuffle starts, people jumping in from left and right to prevent the two of them from hurting each other.

Yoongi feels a pair of arms drag him away from the man, Seokjin holding him steady.

“Yoongi man, stop, just stop. Leave it alone, leave it!” Seokjin implores him to calm down.

Yoongi yanks himself out of Seokjin’s grasp, untying his apron with a groan and throwing it onto the luxurious hotel carpet. He can feel Im’s seething stare from behind his eyelids, but he no longer cares about Im, or the hotel, or this job. All he wants is you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As dawn approaches, Yoongi once again finds himself by your bedside. Except, this time, he’s not alone. Dr. Park is there, checking your vitals and jotting notes down on a clipboard.

“Dr. Park, does this mean she’s fully conscious now?” Yoongi gazes expectantly upon the old man, willing him to inject some much needed hope into his day.

“Thalamus… cortex… medulla oblongata… dorsal plexus of the spine. These medical terms have one spiritual connotation… the soul. And the soul never goes into a coma. Have patience, she’s trying.”

And with that, he makes his final notes and leaves the room.

Yoongi takes this moment alone to stare into your eyes. He’s never properly looked into them, he realizes. Even when you’d always greet him daily, he always looked past you. Never at you. He takes all the time he has left.

“____. Hey ____. Listen to me, can you say Yoongi? YOON-GI. It’s simple, just try it.”

You look up at him with a blank stare. No response. Yoongi panics, his chest becoming heavy. For a moment, he entertains the terrible thought that you’ll never recognize him again, that maybe he doesn’t mean anything to you, even though you’ve come to mean everything to him.

“___, please. Please say something, do something. It’s me. Yoongi. You asked about me before. Please, please. Look to your left if you recognize me.”

When he sees your eyes shift to the left, Yoongi almost sobs with relief. He wants to collapse and hug you for making his insignificant existence feel worth something again. But he doesn’t want to scare you. Instead, he lifts himself up gently and waves goodbye, pinning something on the wall before slipping out of the ward before the first rays of morning light filter into the room.

When he doesn’t come back to your bedside that day, your family is left speechless. Gone, nearly without a trace. The only proof he’d existed at all was the small passport photo he’d clipped to the railing of your bed, the black ink of the Hangul lettering spelling out a single word. Yoongi.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

August

The new hotel brings a strange feeling with it. Yoongi’s not used to the crisp air of the mountains, growing up among the fog and fumes of Seoul. He’s not used to having a fresh start, to being unburdened by the weight of others’ expectations. He doesn’t know how to feel, so he settles for just living for now, spending every day training staff and overseeing operations.

When the Signiel offered him a new placement, Yoongi was reluctant to leave you behind. He’d paced for days on end, chewing his fingernails raw, wondering how to break the news. Your mother beat him to that.

“Yoongi, you’ve done more for us than you could imagine. Please, it’s time for you to go on and live your life. You’re still so young. We’ll manage.”

And so, Yoongi headed towards the hills. The cozy chalet he worked at was full of nothing but friendly and forgiving people. He struck up a friendship with the assistant manager, Hoseok, and the two of them would often roam the grove of Japanese Maple trees adjacent to the hotel, wandering and rambling on for hours and hours. Hoseok reminded him of Seokjin, and of Yeri and Namjoon, people he should have held close to his heart, but instead, he let go.

He wondered how you were constantly. Amongst preparing the drinks, dusting the decor, and planning excursions. His thoughts never strayed from you. Were you still in the hospital? Were you home? Was someone taking care of you?

He’d given the nurse strict instructions before he left, telling her every little detail he noticed you liked or responded to. The nurse waved him off with a smile, saying he was a fool in love. And that’s what solidified Yoongi’s decision to run.

Love. The feelings he developed for you were dangerous. Love made people selfish, it made people succumb to their deepest desires without a second thought for others. Yoongi decided that wasn’t fair to you. You deserved to live out a full and happy life. You deserved to live unburdened by his feelings, feelings that were out of his control, but could have sent you reeling off the rails were you ever to find out. Yoongi never wanted that for you, and maybe he’d never find out the reason you asked for him the day you fell, but he’d made his peace with it. The mountain air had done him some good.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peace, however, is a fickle thing. Yoongi’s startled awake in the middle of night by the blaring of his phone, your mother’s contact name lighting up the screen.

He scrambles to answer the phone, breathing heavily as he rasps out, “Hello? Ahjoomah, is everything okay? Is ___ okay?”

“Yoongi,” your mother sobs out. “The last few days have been so difficult. First ___ stopped responding, then she had another seizure. We had to take her back to the ICU, and the doctor told us she’s at a severe risk of cardiac problems. Once the seizure subsided, she started to become violent towards others and herself. They’ve had to restrain her.”

“Ahjoomah, I-, let me help you, please.” Yoongi pleads, tears pricking his eyes. “What do you need from me?”

“Yoongi, I just wanted to let you know since you’ve become so close. Don’t worry about us, this is now part of our lives. You focus on your work, okay?” her voice cracks on the last syllable, and the line cuts dead.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September

“___, can you please lift your leg for us again. Please try one more time,” the physiotherapist asks, struggling against your lashing figure.

Yoongi looks at the scene with grief, chastising himself for leaving. After the phone call, he’d packed his bags and caught the first train to Seoul, leaving an apology note for Hoseok. Come the morning, he’d woken up in the hospital waiting room to your mother’s shocked face, catching the faint hint of disappointment emanating from her.

“Doctor?” Yoongi says. “Is it okay if I just take her out into the hallway for a bit?”

He nods a reluctant yes, and Yoongi wheels your chair out into the sunny yet secluded alcove at the end of the hallway.

He leans against the wall, looking at your face that’s lolled to the side, turned away from him.

“I know you’re mad at me. I’m sorry. I’ll never leave you again I promise. Now, don’t you want to get better?”

As Yoongi falls asleep that night, his phone buzzes with a text from Seokjin.

You’re back, and you didn’t think to tell me? The keys are in the flower pot outside the door. There’s food in the fridge. I made samgyeopsal, your favorite. Oh, and Yoongi? When you come back in, please take a shower. You probably smell like sterile piss.

He lets out a loud laugh and looks up at you, suddenly stopping in his tracks when he sees the ghost of a smile flicker across your face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bringing his foot down onto the plywood, Yoongi jumps on the makeshift ramp he’d built to commemorate your homecoming, testing it out for signs of weakness. Driving to your house each morning, checking out the ramp, lifting you in and out of bed, making sure there was fresh air circulating in your room… it had all become part of his daily routine.

His mornings, afternoons, and evenings were filled with you. He’d cook breakfast for Sooyoung and Jungkook in the kitchen. He’d strap you into the wheelchair and take you out for a spin every afternoon. In the evenings, he’d sit at the dining table with you and your mother, her professor side out in full force as she taught you how to write shaky letters once more.

Today, on his daily stroll with you, he’d stopped in the park for a moment. The weather was chilly yet enjoyable, but he still made sure you were bundled up in a coat and scarf.

Yoongi lets out a groan and plops down on a bench, right beside your chair. The falling leaves have him reminiscing on his life a year ago, and how different everything was back then. How you two were two ships in the night, navigating the same murky waters yet never crossing paths. And now you’d become his anchor, and he was your lighthouse, guiding you to safety and security every hour of the day.

“Do you ever want to go far, far away?” Yoongi blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts. “Where would you go? You never imagined you’d go into a coma, right? None of us did.”

The last words are a whisper, Yoongi being careful not to dwell on the past. All that matters is the road to recovery.

“Can I ask you one final thing? That night, when you fell, why did you ask for me? Why did you ask for Yoongi?” The door was closing on this chapter for the both of them, but Yoongi would always wonder about the what ifs. What if he had been there that night, what if she had never gone into a coma, what if life for the both of them hadn’t morphed before their very eyes?

A strangled noise interrupts Yoongi’s thoughts once more. He glances over to you, and is shocked to find your lips moving.

“Yoon-gi,” you croak. “Yun-gi.”

Recognition fills your eyes, and Yoongi is incapable of doing nothing but hiding his head in his hands, not wanting you to see the tears of joy that fall and mix with the dew drops on the vibrant green grass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October

The call came in the middle of the night, annihilating Yoongi with the weight of its impact, and for once, he’s the weak one. Sobbing helplessly into his sheets as Seokjin throws his arms around his roommate and holds him through the night.

____ had another seizure last night. Her lungs collapsed. She passed away at 2:27am.

The words echo in Yoongi’s brain as he makes his way to your front door, pushing past the crowd of mourners as numbness encapsulates his entire being.

He passes your uncle, hunched over in the recliner, weeping into his hands. He passes your mother, holding on tight to Sooyoung and Jungkook, almost as if they too will slip out of her grasp at any moment.

He gazes into your room, surprised to still see you lying among the pillows. You look so peaceful, almost as if you’re asleep. It’s the most he’s seen you look like your old self in a long time and Yoongi feels nothing but pain as tears burn in his eyes. Pain that you were awarded a brief moment of peace, of normalcy, before it was all snatched away so soon. Pain that you’d never live out the life you deserved to have, to achieve the happiness that you were meant to achieve. And he’d never be there to see it too.

He stays the night, and the night after that, and the next two nights, helping with the signing of documents and ushering the guests out, one by one, until it’s just your mother and siblings with him at the table.

“We’re moving to Daegu in two weeks,” your mother gasps. “For a fresh start.”

Yoongi knows that their paths diverge here, that in two weeks, all traces of you, and Sooyoung with her buck teeth, Jungkook with his doe eyes, and your mother’s loving smile will be erased from his life. He keeps quiet, afraid to say anything. Afraid to tell them that he doesn’t want them to go, that his soul that had finally found an anchor would be cast out into the depths once more.

“You know Yoongi,” your mother chokes out a sob. “___ loved mugunghwa flowers. They were her favorite. Every year, she’d eagerly wait for October when all the flowers fell from the trees and she’d collect them on a sheet with her father and count them one by one. Mugunghwa are known for their extreme resilience, weathering the worst of conditions to produce something beautiful. They’ll always be known as the “eternal blossom”, and I couldn’t think of a better way to describe our ___.”

The magic of the mugunghwa isn’t lost on Yoongi. He watches as your mother gestures out to a potted shrub in the yard. “____ had a plant of her own. Every day, she would come home and smile at it, water it, and tend to it. She’d pick the flowers when they fell and put them as a centerpiece on our table. I don’t…. I can’t just leave it here to die.”

“I’ll take it,” Yoongi says. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. It’ll be safe with me.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

November

The heat of the spotlight burns the hairs on the back of Yoongi’s neck. He’s going to suffocate in this damn suit. He’ll have to talk to Seokjin to see if Yeri would be able to find him a replacement.

With a flourish of the keys, he ends the song and clears his throat into the microphone.

“That’s all for tonight, folks. My name is Min Yoongi, grand pianist at the Signiel Hotel, and the piece you just heard was called October. Thank you for listening.”

A/N pt 2: I didn’t want to put this in the summary, but this piece is dedicated to a classmate of mine that passed away suddenly this semester. I’ve been wrestling with a lot of grief surrounding their passing, wondering if I could’ve done or said something to make things turn out differently. Like Dr. Park says, the soul can never be put into a coma, and I hope that wherever they are, their soul is resting easy and at peace. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

Naked Lips

Luke Hemmings x fem!reader

Warnings: make-out, mild swearing, quite detailed stuff about kissing, mild angst

Word Count: 1794

Summary: Luke texts you a fishy message which leaves you anxious for a long time. But the message wasn’t as deep as you thought. 

A/N: I can never do anything other than fluff with Luke, SO IM SORRY but he’s just too precious in my wild imagination. Enjoy this sweetness, I did. 

Thump thump thump

Your heart is palpitating at a ridiculously fast pace as you fumble with your keys in order to open the door of your and Luke’s shared home. 

Usually you would be knocking, but you were slightly expecting that he wouldn’t be home out of hopes that what you fear might happen wouldn’t happen. 

The reason that you’re acting so nonsensically anxious and apprehensive is because moments before you left for work in the morning, you had received an ambiguous message from your boyfriend, simply stating, “I have something to tell you.” 

That’s not fishy at all.

The past week he and the rest of the band have been staying at a recording studio all the way across your home in LA, far from the loud Californian noises and all. Due to this reason, you haven’t seen him in three days as neither of you are really interested in driving over four hours in total of back and forth. With the LA traffic? That’s practically hell. 

Other than that, you also wanted him to exert his full presence and attention in writing, even if it was just only for a couple days. Besides, you were still able to go on Facetime everyday and check on one another constantly by texts and calls, so it wasn’t much of a big deal.  

But then you got that message early in the morning, and everything suddenly became a big deal.

Today is the day he returns home, and you’re practically dreading it. You kept thinking of things that the two of you would have to talk about but none ever came to mind. You were just on Facetime the night before yesterday, and everything felt fine. You even fell asleep during the call upon which your boyfriend took advantage of by screenshotting the visual and posting it on his Instagram story.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Y/N could you turn off your ringer? It’s distracting some of the others.” Your manager calls out.

Looking up at him, you nod your head repeatedly as you reach to grab your phone from your purse- Ding! before putting it on silent. “I’m sorry about that, Stephen.” You smile sincerely at him, by which he only responds with a nod of his head before leaving.

You stretch your neck upwards as your eyes scan the room just to make sure that your boss is out of sight before sneakily taking out and opening your phone once more in order to see why it was suddenly blowing up at- 

9:17 in the morning. 

Other than a short “Goodmorning sweet x” text message from Luke, you recognize that you had no other found notifications. That is until you remember that you’ve turned off the visual notifications for both Twitter and Instagram.

You suddenly felt nervous as you go click the Twitter app out of fear that the blasting noises were nothing more than hate.

But to your surprise, it was so much more than that. 

#Luke, ‘Y/N and Luke’, ‘Luke’, and ‘im so single’ seemed to be trending nationwide, and as you check what it’s about, a screenshot of Luke’s IG story from half an hour ago is displayed the top of your feed. 

A slow smile steadily begins to creep up your face once you see an image of a version of yourself that’s fallen asleep on top of Petunia’s belly, with the caption “My girls been sleeping without me :( haha”

Of course that resulted with you getting annoyed at him, but for the most part you only found his actions truly adorable. You neither fought nor argued about any of it. 

You couldn’t Facetime or call yesterday for the reason that he said he was feeling more exhausted than usual, and quite frankly so did you, therefore the both of you decided to skip the nightly calls. However you still did message eachother goodnight and goodmorning along with other sweet nothings throughout the day, so you truly could not pinpoint what could have possibly went wrong. 

Finally opening the door, you try your hardest not to make a single sound in case he was already home. Your heart is still beating at a rate of a million miles per minute, and your sensitive self almost felt like crying from the type of anxiety you haven’t felt in a long time - especially with Luke. 

Shutting the door close, you lean your forehead against the wooden piece as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your currently heavy breathing. 

nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, 

-you keep telling yourself.

But something MUST be wrong if he chose to sent you that message. 

The thought alone became enough for a sob to escape past your lips as you dramatically slide down the door, slowly turning around so your back is the one against it. 

“Love?” 

A voice calls from a distance, making you look up.

The sight made you choke on air.

There stood on the stairs your boyfriend of two years, his dirty blonde hair pulled back in a small bun, eyebrows scrunched in concern of your disheveled state. He’s wearing a black tank top and a mixture of red and black plaid pants, topping it off with white a pair of high top Nike socks. He looked very good. Really good. But none of that passes your sight as you only stare at his naked lips.

Where’s the fucking lip ring? 

All of a sudden your thoughts became clouded and you forget all your previous worries. Your squint your eyes in case you only became delusional that the holiest of rings wasn’t on his lips. 

“What happened bub, what wrong?” Luke asks concerningly while going down the stairs in order to make his way to you. 

As if your guardian angel bitch slapped you in the face, you left your walls of thoughts as you stare up at you much more taller significant other, “Is this what you wanted to tell me, Lu?” You ask him carefully, slightly afraid that his answer would be a no.

“Nevermind this-” he points at his bare lips,  “bubba, you were crying. Why are you crying? Is it work?” He asks a number of sincere questions, but you only repeat yours. 

“My answer to that depends on yours. Is this what you meant by ‘something you need to tell me’?” You watch as he tilts his head in confusion before reaching out to cup your face and wipe away the single tear that’s fallen a couple seconds ago, “It is, yeah. Why?”

Feeling stupid, you push him away slightly before snorting in laughter, “Oh my God,” Luke, still in a state of confusion, only follows you. “I can’t believe I went through all that anxiety just because- I can’t.” You cover your mouth as small giggles-of-stupidity escape past it. 

Luke’s heart warms at the sight of you smiling, but he still remained curious as to why you were at a state of distress just a couple moments ago. “What are you talking about, bub? And you still haven’t told me why you were crying earlier.” 

“Oh that’s- it’s nothing, Lu. I’m-”

“Y/N.” Luke cuts you off with a sort of tone that makes your knees weak.

Swallowing your throat, you bluntly tell him the reason why, “I just thought you were going to break up with me.”

“What?!”

“-But it’s okay now, you just kind of worded it badly-”

“Wow.”

“I mean I’m still in a state of shock seeing your lips naked like this-”

“I can’t believe you thought that.”

“-but it’s still so much better than what I previously expected was going to happen.” 

You finish your words as you look up at your boyfriend, finding him staring back at you with an amused smile on his [naked] lips. “I can’t believe you thought I was breaking up with you, love.”

Shrugging, you respond “In my defense, you worded it awfully.” 

Luke only smiles and nods his head before moving closer and taking you in a very much needed hug, his head burying itself deep onto your neck. “I missed you so fucking much, Y/N.”

Grinning from ear to ear, your arms subconsciously wraps itself around its familiar place as you breathe in the scent that you so terribly missed. “I missed you so much more, Lu.”

You’re the first to pull apart from the sweet embrace only to pull him in for a deep kiss, the taste of him so familiar that you feel comforted and at home. 

He returns the kiss a little too soon, but who are you to complain, as one hand locates itself on the back of your neck and the other finds itself wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. He tugs at the roots of your hair in desperation of hearing the familiar sound that he loves.

Moaning, ‘there it is’ Luke thinks, you jump and wrap your legs around him as you tangle your hands in his locks of gold. He pinches your behind sneakily which makes you gasp, giving him the entrance he was looking for. 

The two of you are at a battle of dominance to see who could get the other turned on enough to take things farther first, a common thing that the both of you oddly play. 

Wanting to win it, you perform your legendary move, the kiss-tug-bite. 

It goes like this, 

Deep within the moment, your tongue explores his for minutes down, kissing at a ridiculously fast pace. Once you’re for sure that he’s absolutely into it, you tug on his hair which then makes him gasp and breathe out for a short millisecond, upon where you take the opportunity to swiftly bite harshly and toy with his lip ring-

“Ow, fuck-!” 

Startled at his sudden words, you pull apart and look at him with wide eyes. 

His lip is bleeding. 

“Holy shit- oh my God!” You exclaim as you lunge towards the kitchen and grab napkins. “Oh my God Luke I’m so sorry- oh, I forgot!” You sputter out quickly while trying to stop the bleeding from getting on the carpet floors. 

Luke only smiles, his teeth partially covered in blood. “It’s alright, love. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” leaning in, “And you know how much I love it when you get rough, anyway.” he whispers.

You let out a silent gasp before pushing him back and playfully throwing the napkins at him, “Clean yourself up, you nasty.”

Luke only laughs and catches the napkins before calling out your name, slightly worried at the thought of how many more times this same exact thing is gonna happen.

Phew, his naked lips is going to take a hell of a long time to get used to.

PLEASE AHAHHAHA

calum is the best thing that has ever happened in the whole universe

loving you is all i know

pairing: taehyung x reader

wordcount: 19k

glimpse: you feel as if the world would stop revolving without taehyung in it, so you protect him with all your might. taehyung thinks that heaven wouldn't fall even without you in it, so he revokes every fiber of your being.

alternatively, you're taehyung's guardian angel and you'd go to hell and back for him — even if you get nothing in return; even if you never receive the love that you give.

[ heavy angst i'm telling u rn, wholesome n comforting moments here and there, unrequited love (at first), so much longing, emotional constipation, mentions of intercourse (not between the main pairing), self-doubt and loathing, mentions of blood n injuries, jk's a literal devil but his acts of evil include making fun of a funky-looking bird, this fic isn't biblically accurate/specifically religious at all because i never intended it to be in the first place :) ]

notes: and it's finally here <3 took me about three days to write sporadically but really, this idea's been sitting on my drafts for already half a year!! once again gonna reiterate that this fic is gonna be on the heavier side so pls read with caution!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

“Is that him?”

Jimin hears you ask for the thirteenth time ever since you've landed on Earth — and that was four minutes ago.

He would like to think that he's a patient man, really. He'd like to think that he's calm and not irritable even when the peer (friend, if you really push him to consider you one) he's with at the moment tends to be repetitive.

Time is merely a social construct and angels, of all beings, know that something which is meant to be undefined and infinite shouldn't be constrained by two little hands moving clockwise. Sure, five minutes in Heaven is still five minutes on Earth, but with you in tow?

Jimin could swear easily that you make time either faster or slower than it should be.

"Don't you think I would've already pointed it out to you if we saw him already? After all, this is why we came down here, hmm?"

He's a snippy angel, that's what he's been told. He's a considerate and caring one but he just tends to become a little bit sharp with his tone and the way he lazily looks at people before he rolls his eyes, playing it off as if he's praying to the sky.

Jimin knows that he's not exactly the textbook version of what should be strictly good and holy, but seeing you giggle at the way he snaps at you, he's reminded that maybe, just maybe, you may be his favorite mentee that he's ever had.

"Right, right. Please caw immediately when you spot him, okay?" you plead to him and you don't miss the way he guffaws at your request, crossing his arms against his chest while you peer at the pedestrian lane at any sign of him.

It's raining and it's the first time you've been here.

Everything overwhelms you but it's the good type of sensory overload that you feel within your senses. Everything feels so raw and real and saturated that your body feels heady trying to take it all in.

The rain actually dampens the silk of your shirt and for once, it's dark outside. The skies are dark and muted and no longer bright, but it's still illuminated by the moon you've only barely seen through your lifetime. It's cold and gloomy but you allow yourself to bask in it, unaware of the fact that you're unconsciously shivering.

The streets are busy and loud but at the same time, they lull to the same comfortable noise you've expected it to be. There's laughter and eagerness and concern that you can pick up within the mix that it makes your head whip at every passing person.

People walk through you given that you and Jimin are invisible to their sights, but you don't mind. You can't scoff and avoid people who walk into you just like how Jimin does because they're too enticed with their lives going on that you want in on it. You grow interested at every passing conversation and every dulling thought that you interact with.

Jimin literally has a grip on you with the way his hand is fisting the back of your shirt to stop you from wandering because the exact spots where the two of you are now are exactly what's intended, not requiring any of you to seek out what's already predestined.

"Is that him?"

You ask the moment you see the back of someone's head that looks like the silhouette of him passing at the crosswalk, about to free yourself from Jimin's grip when he tugs you back with a sigh.

“Not everyone who passes by is automatically your human, Y/N.”

Jimin tolerates your presence and even if everyone thinks he has no choice but to, considering the fact that you're his last mentee that he needs before being promoted, he genuinely does like having you around.

But in moments like these, when your eyes are too bright following even the silhouette of someone that resembles your human; when your hands reach out unconsciously to carry burdens that you aren't even sure of entirely — Jimin fears that you'd be hurt.

You’re smart. You're too kind. You're a little too trusting and devoted. You're too dedicated and loving. You're too much of everything good and too less of anything bad; too much of everything selfless and too less of everything self-serving.

Jimin believes that he has no fear but he thinks that the pathetic bone-chilling goosebumps he gets are reserved for his mentee who's yet again trying to break from his hold to try and chase someone down; his mentee who took the rashest yet most endearing way to his heart, enough for him to look at you as a sibling he's prayed countless of times for. Enough for him to insult you in his head as he tries to reign in his worries.

You are a stupidly, irrationally devoted person.

“Minnie, they can’t see us right?”

He indulges you by agreeing with no complaints to ease your nerves, biting back remarks about how this was already a given if you take into account how many people have already walked through the two of you. Even more, he lets your nickname for him pass as he doesn't even look fazed when you glance at him.

“Not a single trace. We’re only-” his eyes follow the blinking of the pedestrian stoplight as the green glow times out, his ears perking up at the familiar roar of an engine he can't mistake, "seen when we want to be seen."

The rain still drops and even though it's faint enough for you to go through yet heavy enough for you to feel, all that your senses could register is him.

You’ve been training for practically hundreds of years. You're short-handed for the whole period itself because majority of guardian angels train for thousands but with Jimin overseeing you, he didn't necessarily feel that you needed the extra time.

You feel too aware and in tune with him because all you have is tunnel vision at this point. No longer could you hear the bustle and feel the rain because the world stops for you even if it doesn't for anyone no matter what.

“That’s him.”

Jimin speaks definitely but he already knows that you were sure of it even before he opened his mouth, eyes glancing at you as you peer at him nervously before looking at the human who's merely stuck in traffic.

“Y-yeah? That must be him, right?” you rhetorically ask even if you know that there's no answer otherwise, eyes in disbelief yet your heart in credence as you only gaze at your human with pure curiosity.

Your human, the one who's sat at the convertible and has his gaze blank even if the world around him is clear-cut. Your human, the one with the silky dark hair and the blatantly expensive clothes that are getting damp by the minute. Your human, the one with the distinctly beautiful features that look devoid of everything pleasing.

“Kim Taehyung.”

The world stops for you even if the ticking stoplight should tell you that it hasn't. You feel driven and compelled for something you don't even know of and Jimin knows he starting to lose you for one of his only fears.

Your eyes are too bright and your hands start to itch to try and relieve whatever burden your human has, the one fatal flaw of yours that he picks out from the start already becoming glaringly evident.

You are a stupidly, irrationally devoted person.

“Read his files, right?” Jimin asks for the sake of conversation, momentarily pulling you out of your trance as you nod eagerly.

You've read Taehyung's files only a couple thousand times and as much as you know him by calculated words and scripted assumptions, seeing him in the flesh the first time is incomparable to every description you've tried to coax out of your mentor.

“Only brought you down so you could take a look at him before your official job starts next week. If you suddenly realize you don’t like him, then I’m sorry but there is literally nothing I could do.”

You harbor no dislike for your human and you think that you never will because in this angle, he looks every bit lovable. He looks every bit of the fruition from your rigorous training and sleepless nights of worry. Taehyung's only twenty-six years of age but he's worth the hundreds of years of your own, willing to take him under your wing even if it costs your training to be a thousand.

“You could, however, file a complaint to HR explaining why you don’t want to protect the human that’s fated to you," Jimin continues and his tirade against human resources keeps you grounded, coaxing a laugh out of you as he's frenzied to explain. "They’d give you a response perhaps a millennium later, but that’s alright of course!”

He's become so worried for you that he turned his attention into becoming too worked up instead, effectively working when his trepidation becomes irritation instead. It's passive-aggressive of him and he knows it entirely that he wills himself to change the topic, unaware that you're no longer listening.

Jimin's too absorbed with stressing how HR annoys him to no end that he realizes belatedly that his fist is no longer grabbing you by the back of your shirt, eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you-...”

His feet stop at the sight of yours walking to where your human is, figure completely determined with no mind to your surroundings.

In all honesty, Taehyung hasn't even realized that it was raining.

He's drained from yet another party his appearance needed to be in. He's done nothing besides go through the motions of having objective fun in the name of downing shots, flirting left and right, and making a show out of his dignified name. Yet again, he did nothing besides going through activities of what's supposed to be letting loose but he feels so stiff.

He's an heir at his family's company. He's a socialite at his friends' parties. He's someone so famous that sometimes, people collectively forget that they don't even know what or why he's popular.

In his car, by himself, Taehyung's neither an heir, a socialite, or a celebrity.

Either he doesn't know that it's raining or he does yet he doesn't care, but either way, it's a sight your heart can't take to bear.

Jimin watches as you walk with purpose to where your human is and before either of you could realize, you're sat at the dock of his car and your wings that you rarely flex are out. The wings you don't even fluff and feather in special occasions are out and it's to shield a human who could simply push a button to shelter him from the rain.

Taehyung blinks once, twice, when he realizes that the outpouring of rain has suddenly stopped. He'd already known prior that the sky was raining and he'd grown numb to the soft pitter-patter, but now that it's suddenly stopped, then does the feeling of the raindrops return.

He looks left and right and he barely flinches in realization that the sky's only stopped falling for him, the bizarreness of the situation not quite hitting him.

He looks up and you gasp out of reflex, momentarily forgetting that you’re invisible but if you focus just a bit more closely, Taehyung’s eyes harden as if he could see you — his eyes curious and glassy yet firm, making you believe that he could truly see you.

His car shifts back into drive and the moment it revs forward is the instance that you walk back to Jimin, eyes trained on the vehicle as it speeds off.

Your visit should've already been done the moment your eyes landed on Taehyung but your mind is the furthest thing away from succumbing into rest, making a mental note to make him drive a little less haphazardly.

There's not much traffic anymore which is why you could see from a distance how despite the roads being empty, he switches lanes ever so often; maybe it's for the thrill, maybe it's for the feeling.

You watch until you could no longer see him from a distance, but you know you can still feel him. You watch and you smile until the back of your shirt gets crumpled again and Jimin coaxes you to snap out of it.

That’s your human.

Taehyung’s your human.

( ♡ )

Taehyung likes anticipating things.

He wants to buy a bottle of booze he’d never drink and a candle he’d never light. At the top of his head, he makes lists in his mind to lull himself back to sleep because counting sheep never worked for him. When you ask him what he wants, he’d answer in detail and stop talking until it satisfies the itch in his mind.

He has every capability to be able to anticipate things without fear of draining out his wallet and in his mind it’s so much worse. He’s weaponized beyond belief and there’s no actual threshold for him to stop anticipating — but he does it nonetheless.

Taehyung buys the 25-year old Japanese single malt whiskey even if he just wants to display it on his shelf and rarely ever thought about drinking it. He looks forward to drinking it one day, and he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but he postpones each urge he has. He could easily buy another bottle for him to consume and retain the other as a display piece, but not once has he thought about actually doing it.

He buys the custom-made artisan candle in the shape of the cake that his mother used to bake for him and have the scent of it modeled to replicate the smell of his childhood blankie. It’s beautiful without a doubt, but all he does is keep it inside a glass display box away from sunlight and gaze at it.

He's always known he could have duplicates of the things he treasures the most. He could have the most beautiful moments of his life reproduced over and over again but despite having the capability, he chooses not to because that's the problem itself.

Taehyung has and could have everything to the point that he holds himself back.

He holds himself back from repeating anything worthy enough of his effort because the more he orbits around the same loop, the more that he feels detached with the very reason he's done it in the first place.

He isn't irked when he sees the wonky vase he's made for his mother out of a whim when he was 17, bored, and had too much money in his pockets. The clay's imperfect and the sage green glaze doesn't save it. It looks swanky and too bourgeoise in their family home and that's coming from him, the too many 24k gold leaves haphazardly stuck on the vase starting from the bottom. It's an eyesore but Taehyung doesn't want to recreate the vase, this time with more finesse and vision, because he finds no point going back to a memory that's already been lived in.

He was young at 17, bored, and had too much money in his pockets when he decided to rent out a whole pottery studio to work in it privately and make a vase for his mom. He takes it home to her and they have a good laugh about it.

It's a pure memory he wants to leave untouched.

"Going out tonight, don't follow me."

Taehyung jogs down the stairs with the most mundane and unsuspecting outfit he could find in his closet to walk around in at night — the dull grey get-up coincidentally being a luxury brand, but it's good enough for him.

"I can't not follow you, sir."

Namjoon emphasizes through his teeth, his hands held in front of him as he asserts his figure at the bottom of the staircase; a not-so-subtle way to tell him that he should be tailing him wherever he goes at this time of night.

Taehyung's had Namjoon as his bodyguard for what feels like forever because even if the guy only has a couple of years on him, it seems to him that they've grown together. His bodyguard four years ago was definitely not this buff, that much he's sure of. In fact, he's being lenient in this tone because Namjoon of four years ago would've just tailed him no matter what without uttering a single word.

And now, they banter just like how brothers would.

"Jeez, I can manage, trust me. Does this outfit scream socialite to you, hm?" he juts his hip out, motioning to the monochromatic ensemble he has on that he deems simple enough.

"No," Namjoon replies almost immediately and his client thinks that he's already cleared just like that, but Taehyung's yanked back just as quick when he attempts to walk past him. "No, not only do you look like a socialite, but you also look like an heir to a billionaire — you are both, sir."

"Shut up," he whines, rolling his eyes, "and I know you're not calling me by my name just so you could get on nerves."

"My apologies," Namjoon smiles too sweetly for his own good, "my apologies sir dimwit." His hand comes to lightly smack Taehyung on the back of his head that earns him an appalled scoff, widened eyes looking frantically him.

"What the hell was that for?!" he sputters, soothing the barely-hurting spot on his head before the hand he uses to do it is grabbed by the wrist.

"You're going out tonight wearing the saddest looking pair of sweatpants but you're wearing a Patek Philippe on your wrist. It's like you want to be robbed."

"Hey, maybe I do want to be robbed," Taehyung chimes, easily earning himself another swat which he barely dodges. "What? I've been protected my whole life! I atleast want to feel a thrill."

The moment the words leave his lips, he immediately grasps how entitled and disconnected he sounds like.

Namjoon knows that the younger boy means well and he tries his best to understand (he really does) that Taehyung and of his like have a much different set of problems than what he has. It’s perhaps an ill-painted joke that was supposed to be lighthearted but he can’t just let him get away with it this time, considering the two of them have grown close enough to make jabs at him.

“Right. I am so, so sorry you’ve been sheltered and stable your whole life, Taehyung.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he mumbles under his breath, suddenly meek as he looks down on the floor.

It’s not much of a tense silence because it’s normal for them to poke fun at each other every once in a while, but what he does know is that it’s weighted.

It’s a little sudden even if the two of them stand in parallel positions with Namjoon having his jaw set and his gaze burning through Taehyung’s scalp, and the latter being the one to look away until the purpose of why he’s still here pops into his head.

“Are you religious?”

Namjoon deadpans at the question popped out of the blue, throwing in a shrug when it sinks into his head that the question’s asked insistently.

“Sometimes.”

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

“When I need to.”

Namjoon doesn’t plan on elaborating as much as Taehyung doesn’t plan on asking, looking at him boredly.

Silence doesn’t engulf them anymore but either way, the atmosphere remains loaded but perhaps it’s only one-sided because Taehyung bounces back, a perk in his step as he fixes his posture.

“Good,” he affirms. “Then just believe in that higher power you have that someone’s watching over me tonight.”

“Someone?” he chuckles at the animosity of the being that Taehyung’s implying, although not against it either.

“Mhmm. Anyone, someone. Just think of it as someone looking over me to keep me safe. Look, someone’s watching over me too while I go out alone tonight!”

Taehyung smiles as he explains, feet angling towards the door already as he continues.

“You’re saying this just so I wouldn’t be on your tail.”

The motive behind his little existential question and answer moment is clear as day and neither of them try to serve the dignity for themselves because Taehyung’s halfway through the door and surprisingly, Namjoon is rooted in the same spot.

“I sure am,” he chuckles and after lingering for one more second to know that he wouldn’t have a security detail for tonight, he says a rushed goodbye before bolting to the door. He almost trips on his feet at excitement but he plays it off, continuing with his bit. “Would you look at that! I didn’t trip.”

Taehyung smiles as he collects his keys by the foyer, looking back at his bodyguard with a faux look of amazement in his features.

“Someone caught me, don’t you think?”

Namjoon sighs in resignation as he just dismisses him, knowing that he would’ve gone even without his permission not unless he literally manhandles him back inside the mansion. “Just don’t do anything stupid, Tae. Please.”

Taehyung knows to himself that he’s mostly sensible by all accounts and takes pride in it. He’s eerily too self-aware that he knows what exactly to pick himself apart for, even if he opts to keep his observations to himself.

He knows he’s being curt when he barely bats an eyelash to an employee that bares his all in pitching a product he didn’t even bother reading about. He could’ve had the opportunity to prove that he isn’t a half-baked socialite who gets to sit in meetings with his mother, but he passes up on the chance simply because he feels unwilled to prove anything to anyone at this point.

He knows he’s being apathetic when he always looks as if he’s put on hostage whenever he takes pictures of himself with Scooby to send to his mom, serving as proof that he takes care of the hyacinth macaw. The pictures he sends consist of the big blue talking bird perched on his shoulder, a less than pleased obligatory smile on his face. Is Scooby his actual bird? No. But is Scooby his mom’s bird that she tearfully gave to Taehyung when he moved out, even if he clearly didn’t ask for it, with the reason that she doesn’t want her son to be alone? Yes.

He knows he’s being rude when he goes out of his way to eagerly deny that he’s a mama’s boy even if she’s present in the scene. The both of them know that it’s true either way, but he also knows that it brings him nowhere because it’s clear as day that the two of them have a healthy mother-son relationship that people would trade riches for.

Taehyung knows he’s being reckless when he heads straight to the crowded lively pier that’s more or less gonna attract attention to himself; the only one with sunglasses at the dark of the night, and the one who looks like a complete tourist craning his neck up to look at fireworks.

In under no circumstance has he ever blended into a crowd. Kim Taehyung the socialite is someone whose face as a baby was revealed in a magazine with a payment that’s more than enough to support him through his lifetime. He’s the name that precedes commonality in and before itself.

He stands out too much and he’s blissfully unaware to the point that he’s garnered quite an audience with the purpose to look at a guy who’s peering up at the sky. He’s entranced to the point of disconnection that he only snaps out of his adoration when he harshly gets pulled by the arm, an offending screech immediately escaping him.

“What are you doing outside without Namjoon? Why did you go out dressed like this?!”

He could swear that he was only grabbed for a second and that the tree line he’s in now is atleast thirty feet away from the pier, the confusion overtaking him before the anger registers completely that someone’s just grabbed him.

“Next time, don’t just make abrupt outings like these, alright? And what are you doing wearing a flashy watch like that? Taehyung, think about it! Do you know that anyone could make a shiv from the corndog sticks they’re selling here? Anyone! Hey, what if someone randomly stabbed you for your watch, huh? You’re just-…”

The complete bemusement Taehyung knows he feels is soon dissolved because looking at you, someone who he doesn’t have a single clue of, melts away the anxiety of going out alone that he didn’t even know he felt. He doesn’t know one bit about the person standing in front of him who’s blubbering worriedly and is wearing a far noticeable outfit than him, but it’s odd for him to not feel any fear towards you.

You’re carried away with worry to the point that you don’t even notice the human standing scarily still in front of you is trying to catch your face, head tilting to catch yours that’s anxiously whipping about.

“Hey. Stop it.”

The way Taehyung’s voice reaches your ears paralyzes you completely, eyes moving with a newfound curiosity to see if he’s addressing you.

He resists the urge to tilt his head rudely when he finally gets to catch your gaze, instead being worse off when he nods his chin to you in acknowledgement.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

You’re prepared for this. Jimin’s been prepping you almost your whole existence on what you should answer when your human asks you who you are. There’s a manual for almost every situation including when you willingly show your physical form to a human but god would you suggest to Jimin once you see him again to make a manual entitled: What should a guardian angel do when they accidentally reveal themselves in a fit of worry because they trailed after their human who unknowingly put himself in danger?

Your mouth dries despite the numerous hypothetical question-and-answer portions you’ve had with Jimin. You give yourself pep talks every sunrise that you’re quick-witted but holy shit do you feel unguarded, tripping over your words as you try to be as easy-going as you could.

“I’m supposed to be your guardian angel. Wait, not supposed, I mean assigned. No, no, that sounds forced. Well no, I’m not forcing myself on you! But I mean — god, I’m just saying that I’m your angel! Whether you like it or not, I’m your guardian and — oh no, do you not like me? Please like me because I’m not implying that you don’t have a choice but-…”

Taehyung’s eerily self-aware.

He knows that he’s baffled beyond measure to hear what he’s hearing now and see what he’s seeing now and that if anything, it’s awe-striking that he’s trying to be level-headed in this situation.

He knows that it’s rational to be thrown into a loop to have something as simultaneously big and mind-bending of a revelation to be dropped by someone equally as unfathomable.

He knows that he’s not particularly and devotedly religious nor spiritual in the first place but even that would not be enough of a reason to make sense of the whole concept of you.

What Taehyung doesn’t know is that despite walking away from you wordlessly and calling it a night, he gets home safe because of the proclaimed angel who’s promised its existence to him. He doesn’t know that he’s walked in a warm and well-lit path without anyone standing in the way of him, nor does he know that the serene buzz of fireworks that he hears all the way home is exclusive to him.

Taehyung doesn’t know you yet, but he knows that he’d be able to get home just fine even if he hadn’t met you tonight.

Atleast that’s what he believes.

( ♡ )

“I’m sorry but you are-?”

Namjoon blinks hardly to look at you, eyes straining from the train of thought that his mind’s enduring at the moment.

Being a bodyguard, he’s already had his fair share of unexplainable experiences. Is this the first time that Taehyung asks him to meet someone to scope them out? Definitely not. Is this the first time that Taehyung asks him to profile someone with no prior explanation? Of course not. Is this the first time that Taehyung asks him ambiguously to scope someone out with a highly-specific explanation? It is and there’s no logical explanation to what he feels.

You admire Namjoon who stands before you, looking past his tense and confused exterior to instead notice some of the marks that he carries. You’ve read about Taehyung’s file extensively and in it for the most part is the buff bodyguard that keeps staring you down.

You’re grateful for him and the healing scratch you see on his bicep, one you know that he’s gotten after getting Taehyung through a mob outside a concert that they’ve attended. You’re thankful for him and the bruises on his elbows from pummeling against paparazzi from your human’s latest trip abroad. He’s been Taehyung’s angel on earth even before you properly came into the picture and you can’t thank him enough.

He’s a little bit mean but it doesn’t deter you, prompting you to answer him eagerly.

“Tae’s guardian angel.”

“Tae?” he tilts his head at the use of the nickname, earning him a shriek from aforementioned guy.

“That’s what you’re checking?”

Truth be told, he didn’t even know what to expect from Namjoon when he told him to meet you. He looked calm even when not a second later that he agrees, you already come through the door because you’ve followed Taehyung home. He didn’t know what to make of Namjoon meeting someone who’s probably volatile if what all of you’re saying is true, but Taehyung for sure knows that he didn’t expect this.

Namjoon looks calmer than he expected him to be. He looks laid-back and not anxious at all, his eyebrows relaxed and his jaw unclenched as he looks at you in the way that he doesn’t find you a grave threat at all. He’s always on-guard given the nature of his job and yet he acts as if it’s his day-off.

Namjoon extends his hand out, probably awaiting for something of yours that it makes you flustered, recalling all the things you’ve brought with you that’s significant enough for him to ask for.

“I’m gonna need to see an ID.”

The shock that consumes your features is apparent, a breathless sigh leaving you. “An ID?”

You weren’t prepared for this impromptu interrogation at all. Jimin’s once explained the concept of humans being verified by a piece of plastic with holographic film on it and the both of you agreed that it’s pathetic to even attempt to have one, seeing to it that neither of you aren’t bound to the land you step on anyway.

The concept is so pathetic and important at the same time that it makes you want to grip your hair out because of course! Namjoon is Taehyung’s bodyguard and of course he’ll protect him, starting by verifying your identity first.

“Excuse me,” Namjoon gently interjects, taking a few steps back to come near to Taehyung who’s leaning against the wall. He tries to be subtle as he motions his head to you, a genuinely curious lilt to his voice. “Is miss guardian angel here a stripper?”

Taehyung chokes on nothing, eyes widening tremendously. “W-what?” he coughs, shoulders trembling from the abruptness. “Namjoon, come on man,” he grimaces at the tactless tone and that’s coming from him. Him!

You obviously overhear their conversation and the frantic flailing of your hands remind them that you’re still here. “I’m a real angel, trust me! Look, I can even call my mentor to prove my existence.”

“Oh you have a mentor?” Namjoon snickers, itching his temple as he comes back to standing in front of you. “Nice.”

“I know it’s easy not believing me but-“

“I’m glad you do.”

If anyone were to tell Namjoon that he’d be interviewing a supposed guardian angel in his boss’ office (who’s younger than him in age) while in his sweatpants because this flow of events happened extremely fast, he would smack you in the face to never say shit like that again.

“And I’m not mad at all because this is great! Namjoon, this is exactly why you’re perfect as Taehyung’s bodyguard. You’re always wary and that’s what he needs exactly. No one comes close to your skill — wait, I pretty much do but you get my point,” you ramble continuously, only being aware of the cold glare on you when you take the time to look up. “… right?”

Namjoon knows as far that his name isn’t the only thing you know. He knows as far that no stalker would ever act the way you’re doing right now because ill-intended people like those would always have their intentions transparent no matter the facade — your intentions are desperate but they only reek of innocence.

He gets praised for his skill and is brought down the next second because this stranger who’s just barged in poked at his job in his own place of work, disregarding the compliments altogether to roll his eyes at you and peer at Taehyung.

“Why did you want me to meet her again?”

“I didn’t want you to. She just keeps following me,” he shrugs all too well, already knowing that he’s set you up perfectly to be the receiving end of Namjoon’s rudeness.

The bodyguard returns his gaze at you, eyes narrowed in reply. “That makes you a stalker, not an angel.”

The sigh that leaves you sounds close to being tired, your hands bunched together as you plead with him longer. In all honesty, it’s a fair comparison but following Taehyung is your job as an angel! You already know that you’re only irritating the both of them further at your insistence but you won’t leave without maximizing your efforts, in utter hope that it would come to fruition.

“Please trust me. Look, my mentor’s coming any second now. I could prove it to you even before then but-“

“Then prove it.”

Jimin’s communicated back to you that he’ll be beside you in less than ten minutes because he’s still straightening things up with HR, since apparently, he’s “accidentally” set the supervisor named Seokjin’s desk on flames and he was “apologizing” by the time you’ve contacted him.

You can’t wait any longer for him because you know that it would only raise their disbelief for you in the first place, springing you into action. The first thought that crosses your mind is to look at the room, skimming on what you could utilize.

The three of you are in Taehyung’s study anyway and the way that it’s massive reminds you that you need to narrow down it immediately. You look around frantically, eyes landing on Tae who’s laid down on the couch with his phone in his hands that you snatch it away immediately; the same speed that he told Namjoon about what he felt back in the pier being apparent.

“Take a picture of me now.”

The phone’s outstretched for Namjoon to take, finding it a little silly that you look so determined and the only thing you’re holding onto (quite physically and mentally) is a phone. He doesn’t question it, taking it from your hands with his eyebrows raised on how exactly would this pan out.

He obliges with little to no enthusiasm at all as you hurriedly place yourself next to Taehyung, lazily holding the phone up to a point that it paints the scene of Tae glaring at the back of your head for snatching it in the first place, and you looking straight at the camera with a tiny smile.

Namjoon doesn’t even count and presses on the gallery to show you the picture because that’s exactly what he does too when Taehyung asks him to capture photos, briefly glancing at it to ask what’s your point-

And then he stops.

Namjoon retracts the phone before you even get to point it out, eyes blinking rapidly to look down on the screen.

Only Taehyung is in the picture.

He switches between random photos at the gallery and yet no matter which way he scrolls, the picture remains the same. Taehyung’s glaring at the air. There’s no shadows of your figure to be found, nor a single speck of motion that suggests you’ve just moved really quickly to get out of the shot before he even pressed capture.

“I’m not there,” you softly say as if it isn’t obvious yet, staying rooted in your position next to Taehyung, “but I’m here.”

Namjoon brings up the phone again but this time he takes a video, making his hand stable and wobbly at the next as he even zooms in repeatedly, pressing end as he keeps looking back and forth between you and the lack of you on the screen.

You’re still not there.

“Go to your room, Tae.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he snickers as he walks past his bodyguard, snatching his phone back before he shuts the door on his way out.

You could predict you’re not completely off the hook yet with the way Namjoon looks at you with much curiosity, the both of you knowing that it’s laced with hesitancy through and through.

“I’m not trusting you just because you don’t show up in a picture.”

Admittedly, the whole thing of you being capable to show yourself to people in real-time while being unable to do so in any tangible evidence such as footage, is not the soundest idea of proof you could offer. After all, disappearing from screens isn’t all that promising because electronic devices are fallible.

Your train of thought ends at what could possibly be the most cliché yet the most assuring proof you could offer, not exactly being the most comfortable with it entirely.

“I could show you my wings.”

Namjoon’s attention is blatantly piqued, his eyes twinkling with something else other than curiosity. “No tricks?”

“You want me to take my shirt off?” you take your offer further and it takes him aback, later explaining to avoid him misinterpreting your words. “For you to see it clearly, I mean.”

“Sure,” he nods solemnly but his voice is caught on your throat, the atmosphere shifting in volumes when he raises the question. “Why are you trying to gain my trust first? I’m not your human.”

Another thing you admire about him is his sensibility. He’s keen to pick up on things and takes his cues well, not waiting on opportunities to make things known and instead make them himself.

“You trusting me means more than you think to Taehyung,” you admit. “He values your judgement a lot.”

Namjoon comes from a big family and he knows what it’s like to treat someone as such. Family’s messy and broad at all accounts and he knows that Taehyung comes close to someone he could treat as a younger brother, the admission coming from an outsider (although not exactly) still taking him by surprise.

Taehyung rarely trusts but when he does, it’s boundless. It covers him by extension and the both of you know that if there’s anyone in the room that Taehyung would entrust his life to, it’s not the actual guardian angel that comes in the form of you.

“I can get rid of you, y’know?” Namjoon speaks thickly, sounding more of a realization than it is a threat. “And Taehyung would probably never question me.”

“I know that,” you nod in full understanding despite the true implications of what he’s saying, “you can’t really fully get rid of me, but atleast let me show you before you do — please?”

Thinking about it, Namjoon wouldn’t lose anything at all from this interaction. In fact, he’s the one with the upper hand because someone of supposed divinity is asking for his permission. Your eagerness to prove yourself looks pitiful at this point that he relents. “Turn around.”

You don’t waste a second in taking your shirt off that it momentarily stuns Namjoon, looking away briefly until he realizes that he shouldn’t take his eyes off of you if he truly wants to believe. You shudder not because your skin is exposed, rather you feel slightly uncomfortable with the way you feel your wings unfurl. Only your back is visible to him but it makes you feel as if you’re naked, keeping your gaze down to avoid looking at your own appendages on any reflective surface.

Surprisingly, you don’t like your wings. Clearly, Namjoon doesn’t know that but he doesn’t need to since voicing out your unease would only raise his suspicions for you.

Jimin knows the most of your dislike for your own wings and how unlike any other angel, you don’t feel comfortable nor prideful of yours. This whole experience itself would’ve felt more uncomfortable if you showed them to anyone who’s much closer to you, but seeing to it that it’s only Namjoon who’s close to a complete stranger, the weight feels lighter.

The unease you feel is only a prick instead of a sting — this is for Taehyung anyway.

Namjoon didn’t know what to expect in the first place but seeing this, seeing you, he feels relieved when he sees wings appear in front of his very eyes, seamlessly sprouting from your own back. He didn’t know if he wanted to believe you in the first place but seeing how his figure slacks and his breathing stabilize, he knows the answer for himself. He doesn’t realize that his hand’s moving on its own to touch them, your figure immediately shuddering at the touch that he snaps out of his curious reverie.

“What are you doing here?” he breaks the tension effectively even if the silence felt more comforting than it is suffocating, his question knowingly out of the superficial context it once took.

“I’m here to protect Taehyung.”

“What do you think I’m here for then?” Namjoon asks with no malice, eyes unblinking because he feels as if you’d disappear from his sight at any second.

“That’s your job,” you reply honestly, knowing what he was trying to imply. “But it’s my destiny.”

He purses his lips in thought of how you don’t waste a beat in responding back to him. You’re more than serious and you even acknowledged that your purpose is already his job. The job of protecting Taehyung is already taken and yet here you are, incessantly wedging yourself in.

“I exist for it.”

“You don’t feel sad about it?” he asks with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from picking at his cuticles. “That you exist solely to protect Taehyung?”

Namjoon’s only met you today and yet the pity he feels for you lasts for a lifetime. He thinks that you’ve been handed the shortest end of a stick and something as trivial as protecting a human is the sole purpose of someone ethereal — it’s unfair for you.

“His first thought was to take you to me with the intention of getting rid of you.”

It’s beyond obvious that getting rid of you one way or another is Taehyung’s plan. He let you follow him when in the handful times you did, he’s warded you away by yelling or sticking to someone else to ignore you.

You aren’t clueless, you know that Taehyung easily led you right to Namjoon to have you taken care of.

“There’s nothing sad about it,” you shrug, picking up the pity you hear from his voice. “I actually could exist for myself when something happens in particular,” you admit, catching his attention once more.

Namjoon stands curious as he finds himself waiting for your next words, looking closely to see that your expression remains genuine.

“But until then, I’d live for Taehyung as much as he wants me to.”

“If he doesn’t?” he counters, squinting his eyes at the deep commitment he picks up from someone he pities more than himself.

“Then I’m thankful that he wanted me enough at some point to not want me anymore.”

.

.

Taehyung paces at the living room, his angry shuffling surely being audible even if you’re across the massive area.

“You’re allowing her to be around?!”

“Just think of her as Scooby.”

Namjoon carelessly replies, going over Taehyung’s itineraries and schedules while he’s sat on the floor. He’s perfectly relaxed and if only he didn’t know better, he’d mistaken Taehyung for the hyacinth macaw itself with the way he’s squawking and flying all over the room.

“Noisy, follows me around, and fusses over me?”

“Yup,” he hums, earning him a frustrated scoff from the younger boy. “Or just think of her as a second bodyguard.”

“Do I need to pay her?”

Taehyung’s voice switches out from his irritation, making his bodyguard’s head whip up to catch his gaze. It’s surely not the matter of money that made him focus, but instead it’s the insinuation that lies underneath his question. Just a second ago, Namjoon thought he would be fired for expressing his judgement and now?

“Do you want her around?”

Taehyung stops pacing, his gaze blank before he shakes his head fervently. “No, she annoys me,” he reasons, gesturing his hands to point at you who’s probably exploring his house at the moment. “But I can’t shake her off because you didn’t get rid of her!”

“Just try it out or something,” he sighs and what truly confuses him is if Taehyung just truly wanted to get rid of you, he’d do it himself because he has more than the power to do so, regardless of his bodyguard’s opinion. “If you don’t want her around then go file a restraining order against an angel if you could.”

“So she is an angel?” his eyes widen at the immediate turn of the conversation, a breathless scoff leaving him as he couldn’t be any more annoyed at this point.

“I believe her,” he admits, turning to see Taehyung’s reaction. “Do you?”

“Perhaps.”

The two of them are distracted within their own thoughts that none of them notice your eager descent on the stairs, only taking attention when they hear the door to the patio opening.

You already look so well-inhibited in his own house that he could’ve mistaken you for someone who lived their whole life here, only clicking into his head belatedly when he sees Scooby perched on your shoulder.

“What are you doing? He could’ve flown away!”

“Don’t worry, Tae. Look, I’m fine!” you narrate in excitement as you make a show of even stepping out to the shaded patio, waving your arms around that it’s a miracle Scooby doesn’t even flinch from your actions.

“Look, I’m fine!”

Taehyung was surely about to rip you a new one and kick you out of the house himself but the repetition of the words is what stops him, all of his vulgar words flying out the window when he points to Scooby in confusion.

“He doesn’t know-“ he shakes his head at the distraction, momentarily reserving his anger for you later. “You taught him that phrase?”

“Mhmm, I only said it twice to him!”

Taehyung could only take so much within a day and the moment his bird repeats your words when normally, it would take several weeks for him to even repeat a single one, it hits him in the head entirely.

It only dawns on him that there’s a stranger, who’s his guardian angel in an odd turn of events, is in his home after being spoken to by his usually skeptical and rude bodyguard, and on top of all that — with his bird perched on your shoulder.

“You should leave.”

“No thank you.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” he grits his teeth, eyes narrowing in anger. “Are you telling me no?” he guffaws, tilting his head in mockery. “As in no, you’re not gonna leave my own home even when I’m asking you to?”

“You don’t want me to leave,” you offer with a small smile, the hint of playfulness still in your eyes that it annoys him unlike no other.

“And you know exactly what I do and don’t want?”

Taehyung fires back and he’s only met with silence. You don’t move a single inch and hell, you don’t even look fazed. You look completely normal as if he hadn’t just exploded on you that it makes him stomp away, going up the stairs to avoid you completely.

“Unbelievable. Kick her out, Namjoon!”

“Door’s open,” Namjoon hums with disinterest as he hears Taehyung retreat up the stairs, sparing you a glance as you walk to him.

“You do know that I’m gonna come back, right?”

“Oh, I know that,” he chuckles at your giddiness despite what just happened a few seconds ago, standing up from his seat on the floor to pat on his shoulder, Scooby instantly transferring to his as he preens on his earring.

“See? You’re exactly like Scooby. You could leave anytime, but you don’t. You could fly away, but you come back,” he hums, petting the macaw. “But don’t sweat it out thinking about the bird analogy. I could just be describing lice at this context.”

“Kick her out, Namjoon!”

Now that’s a sentence Scooby has already heard a lot of compared to picking up a phrase from you freakishly quick, making him laugh at the way there’s almost always a delay whenever he parrots what he hears.

Namjoon opens the front door for you and you exit with a bounce on your step, bidding him goodbye with the promise of seeing him later.

“That’s what I’m doing, buddy.”

( ♡ )

In your first month with Taehyung, you hear him cry the loudest.

His sobs reach your ear painfully and in a second, you find yourself already standing outside of his bedroom door, ear pressed to the door in alert.

Namjoon is nowhere to be seen and you’re unsure if this is the first time this has happened, but either way, none of it matters because you’re here now. His cries make your hair stand in place that you can’t even will yourself to knock, immediately entering his room.

It’s already dark in the dead of the night but you could clearly see the outline of him against his bedframe, sat up as his sobs wrack his body raw.

Truth be told, Taehyung doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He doesn’t know why exactly he’s crying but he allows himself to because he’s hurting immensely with no idea.

“Taehyung, are you okay? Talk to me,” you mumble as you intrude his space, putting your hands on both his arms but it only makes him hunch over more, turning his face to his hands.

He’s folding over with pain and it tears you apart all over, your own tears springing from seeing him suffer.

“I’ll take the pain away,” you assure him, tilting your head down for him to see you as you hold him tighter. “I’ll take your pain away, okay? Can you hear me, Tae? I promise.”

Tonight, Taehyung's heart feels the heaviest without reason. It clenches around nothing but it feels like bursting, driving him to the point of tears.

But tonight, he isn’t alone. The pain that he feels subsides until it feels that it hasn’t even existed in the first place. It only feels like the residue of a phantom pain he once knew, the visceral grip releasing him eventually.

Your heart is the one that feels the heaviest at the dead of the night, but none of it matters to see Taehyung carrying one less burden on his shoulders.

( ♡ )

In your second month with Taehyung, you see a bruise on his neck.

You were only meant to survey the area around, really. He had insisted to eat at a hotel’s rooftop restaurant and even if Namjoon’s already eating, you still make sure just to see if anyone’s coming over to approach him, despite the lack of people in the space because you couldn’t be too sure.

Both boys are already getting started on lunch and if you didn’t know any better that Namjoon ordered for you, you would’ve felt more than appreciated to assume that Taehyung picked out your dish. You’re just about to lean your head back down to the table when you catch the flash of red, figure immediately straightening then.

The bruise is unmistakable even if your eyes only graze it for a second, seemingly-fresh with the way you could see the faint outlines of burst blood vessels on the surface.

“Who did this to you?” your voice isn’t as gentle as it was and even that makes Namjoon look up even if he wasn’t the one being addressed, wanting to find what your fuss is about. “Tell me while I’m still asking.”

“Taehyung, who hurt you?”

You repeat again and this time you’re more insistent, making his brows furrow in frustration because he doesn’t get you in the slightest bit. He hurriedly swallows his food, wiping his lips with a napkin before leaning against his chair.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The new angle grants you an unlimited view of the bruise on his neck, his relaxed figure making his hoodie shift to the side.

“That!” you inwardly wince as you squint to look closer, your view suddenly being obstructed when he goes back to hunching over the table.

“No one hurt me, stupid,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing the collar of his hoodie to show you the bruise himself. “This is a hickey.”

Taehyung thinks the expression on your face is pathetic because he’s unsure if you’re really this slow or if angels are absolutely clueless, but either way he feels the urge to rub it into your face more.

“I had a great time last night if you must know.”

His bragging gets lost on the audience because Namjoon groans to his pasta while looking away, meanwhile you’re only deadpanning at him as you recall his bodyguard saying that Taehyung often has hook-ups and by safety measures, he has to (unfortunately) stay nearby just in case.

The concept of Taehyung being hurt while apparently having a great time is lost on you but you no longer question him, your only concern being that he’s in pain.

“B-but this must hurt,” you try again, reaching your hands out from across the table. “Let me heal you,” you stand quickly, trying to coax Namjoon into switching seats with you in which he agrees to in a daze because he’s still swallowing down his food before trying to diffuse the situation.

“Huh? What are you doing?” Taehyung grumbles, moving away from you even if your hands never reach him, swatting them in the process. “Stop!”

“But you’re hurting!” you dodge his swats to press a finger on the hickey, your enhanced hearing picking up a slight wince from his throat that only proved your point further.

“It doesn’t even hurt that much,” he reasons, pushing your chair away from him with sheer strength, taking it one step further by moving his chair too. At this point, only Namjoon is the one who’s proportional to the table. “Point is, I don’t need you to take this hurt from me because I want this hickey on me.”

Taehyung clearly remembers you going into his room the night he cried, distinctly reminiscing the way the hurt he felt from his chest lifted that time. He remembers the night clearly and yet not once did he bring it up, going about his days without even thanking you for it.

He was vulnerable at the time and it just happened that you were there — he hates the interaction now that he’s moved past it.

“Why do you want it?”

“You ask so many questions!” he snaps because you simply just won’t give up even if he’s already moved you away from him, eyes narrowing at how you’re already back to his side before it even hit him. “What, are you gonna ask me how many times we’ve fucked last night? How many positions I took her in? How much I came?”

He rambles on until he feels Namjoon’s heel dig into his shoe, stopping his tirade momentarily to look at him in annoyance.

“Stop it,” his bodyguard just whispers, looking away from the situation that has since turned sour the moment Taehyung opened his mouth.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but stays quiet nonetheless, sparing you a glance specifically just to mock you further but your gazes never meet, your line of sight only fixed on your plate until you mumble.

“Please just come to me when you need it healed.”

He pokes his tongue against his cheek because you’re just too much, scoffing before going back to his lunch that’s tellingly been silent.

“I don’t need you.”

( ♡ )

In your third month with Taehyung, he asks you for a favor.

You’re used to your evenings being silent, that much you’ve observed here on your time on earth. There’s always a buzz outside of Taehyung’s house but you’ve learned quickly to tune them out, instead focusing on the sounds that are important to you — heartbeats.

You’ve heard Taehyung coming out of his room from a mile away but it’s to your shock when the door to your room creaks open, a head peeking from your doorway to reveal none other than you human.

“I need you to take me out.”

“Right now?” you clarify, feet already angling to get out of bed but you make sure to not seem ecstatic that he’s the one coming to you this time. “Take you out where?”

“Just this store, they’re closing soon,” he waves his hand before tucking into his pocket, letting it known that he’s leaving the house with his sleepwear on without bothering to change. Taehyung somehow has a clue of what’s running through your head, rolling his eyes in second nature. “I’m only taking you because Namjoon doesn’t want me to go anywhere.”

“He doesn’t want you to go anywhere because you’re still trending,” your nose scrunches, atleast having the decency to put on some socks before you put on your slippers later because from what you’ve seen in humans, the combo was apparently comfortable that it makes you want to try them out yourself.

You understand Namjoon completely on why he doesn’t want Taehyung to go out especially since his name’s still under hot water, considering that he had only been the headlines of articles just last night. In fact, you support his bodyguard’s precautions completely because it’s the most rational decision to ever make, making you applaud his skill more and more.

“Yeah, yeah. Shame on me for getting some,” he dismisses, remembering how the pictures circulating now are of him mistakenly going out of the front entrance of a hotel at the dead of night, looking thoroughly fucked out with yet another hickey just barely visible.

You already know what you’re gonna do but Taehyung catches on slowly, tapping his feet impatiently (yet quietly because Namjoon’s a light sleeper) on the floor.

“I thought you were my guardian angel, huh? Why do you not want me now?”

“I do want you!”

You reply just as quick without a single thought, standing up once you finish putting on your socks. Taehyung resists the urge to laugh at how desperate you are in clarifying your yearning for him, waiting for you by the door instead. “Then what you’re gonna do is take me now to the store, and you never speak about it to Namjoon.”

It only happens at a blink of an eye in order for the two of you to appear just a few steps away from the store he’s told you about, aware of the fact that it’d be suspicious for the two of you to pop inside out of nowhere.

The whole thing of you coming in and out unannounced never gets old for Taehyung, and although he’d never say that your teleporting jig excites him whenever you bring him around, he merely mumbles his thanks before walking ahead of you.

The store carries a barrage of art supplies and despite the volume of how much there it is, you’re more amazed at the fact that it’s all fit into the quaint and small place. Out of the whole block, the store Tae urged you into is the one that’s not well-lit nor flashy. It’s the only space one could walk past without straining their eyes and it could be easily missed, but with the way that the inside of it feels warm, you know why Taehyung comes here often.

He’s already preoccupied by the time you approach his vicinity, his fingers plucking tubes of paint from the lived-in shelves and making quick work of putting them underneath an exposed lightbulb to confirm the color. You watch him work by himself until the pile he has on his hands is steadily getting full.

“Do you paint?”

“Do you ever shut up?” he mumbles under his breath but it takes on a rather playful tone, making you smile in the process.

“Sorry,” you whisper, playing along as you peer into his hands. “What are you gonna paint?”

Taehyung’s brows knit in concentration as he looks for a specific brush from the bunch he sees in a basket, mouth parting in focus that he spews whatever comes first in his mind to make conversation with you.

“A fallen angel,” he whispers in a faux spirit of secrecy, giggling at his own attempt of banter. His eyebrows wiggle in mischief as he jokes, finally finding the thin brush that he was looking for. He hums in contentment to himself but it strikes him that there’s no reply from you when normally you would’ve been way more talkative, but he brushes past the impending suggestion of his conscience that he might be falling guilty. “Yikes, did I hit a nerve?”

Taehyung has never been good at small talk.

He knows he’s being facetious when he continues just so it wouldn’t seem like he’s starting to get nervous of why you’ve become speechless all of a sudden, willing his gaze to seem steady.

He may be quite mean sometimes, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a conscience.

“What happens to you if you fall?”

Your eyes unfocus at the sudden turn of conversation, your mouth drying at the upfront question. “I-…”

“I’m not interested.”

Taehyung goes back to giggling, turning his back on you as he pays for his items in cash, sneaking in a sigh of relief throughout his chuckles because he’s just barely managed to escape the impending guilt of his own words.

The atmosphere should already be back to normal which is why he doesn’t hesitate on walking right next to you closer than he normally would, handing you the bag of his newly-purchased supplies. “Carry these for me.”

You take his load without a word, carrying it without complaint to distract yourself because for a moment, you genuinely thought that Taehyung was watching his words and felt guilty belatedly, making him speak to you more than what you were accustomed to.

“See? When you talk less and only come around when I need you to, we could get along.”

You don’t know what to feel when he laughs sweetly before patting you on the head, taking the long way home with you by actually walking back.

“There’s a good angel.”

( ♡ )

In your fourth month with Taehyung, you ask him if you could have a visitor over.

In all fairness, your friend had only given you a heads-up just now that he would be visiting tomorrow, making you panic inwardly because you know more than anyone that meeting him here on earth is much more complicated than it is anywhere else.

You will the entirety of your shame to dissipate when you ask Taehyung, your gaze flicking to everywhere else but him which is a first. You hated inconveniencing others for your own sake but this time you choke down what little pride you had, devoid of any other choice besides being indebted to Taehyung for a day.

“You’re a visitor in my home and you’re asking me if you could have one?”

He’s not necessarily mad that you’re inviting someone else to his home. If he wants to put it lightly, he’s surprised you’ve even built up the courage to ask him, partially curious on why you’d go through this limbo in the first place.

Namjoon elbows Taehyung to signal him that maybe a little kindness won’t hurt. He’s particularly grew fond of you because with you around, his job’s significantly become less stressful, more lenient, and actually happier. Surely, granting you to have a visitor (even if it isn’t his house you’re talking about) wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Right?

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just that he’s banned from most places and-“

“Fuck it. Fine. Who’s your visitor?”

The both of you speak at the same time and your eyes widen at him granting your request even if it was only nudged (more like elbowed) out of him, the smile immediately reaching your eyes.

Namjoon is the only one who catches your words, eyes nervously flicking around as he squeaks to himself. “Whatdoyoumeanbannedfrommostplaces?!”

Neither of you pay attention to him because Taehyung only waits for your answer, snapping you out of your reverie to answer who’s coming over.

“Jungkook.”

He takes one, two seconds to process what you’ve just said, question marks floating above his head that it finally prompts you to expand further sensing the confusion in his face.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“You expect me to know who Jeon Jungkook is?” Taehyung pinches his nosebridge at how you automatically assume he knows everyone whom you mention, the amusement behind it hitting him suddenly that he covers his mouth with his hand to pretend to be annoyed. “Whatever, just have him over and don’t ruin a single thing in my house.”

He goes up the stairs before his own giggles escape his lips, leaving you alone with a half-terrified, half-curious Namjoon.

“Is this Jungkook an angel?” he asks in a whisper, his thoughts flying faster than how his hands drum against his thigh because he can’t deny his trepidation.

The way your pupils flicker makes Namjoon nervous because normally you’re never unsure, a sound of pure shock emitting from his throat. “O-oh! He’s an angel… somewhat.”

Your vague answer had already reached Taehyung before the day even ended, pleasantly oblivious to the way he spends the night thinking on who exactly is your visitor and why the hell did he agree.

Nobody expected Jungkook to look this intimidating.

He’s intimidating both in his built and aura, the edge of charisma that he oozes feeling so unattainable that it puts both men in slight unease. They most certainly did not peg for the two of you to be friends (or even be acquainted in the first place) because you look gravely mismatched.

Jungkook looks around Taehyung’s house with a critical gaze and pursed lips, walking slowly with his arms across his chest that everybody looks at him.

Namjoon doesn’t know whether he should be wary with the way he’s acting or if he should ask for tips on how to make the entire room scared of him.

Taehyung surely knows that he feels offended with the way your visitor looks around, feeling threatened even if he doesn’t admit it out loud because only he should be able to walk around like this looking as if he’s in disgust, not this random guy.

“Eh. You could do better.”

Jungkook says to no one in particular and Taehyung scoffs under his breath, the snappy remark getting stuck in his throat the moment you respond to his loaded statement.

“This guy’s already assigned to me, I can’t do anything about it.”

“This guy?!” Taehyung mutters under his breath in disbelief on how you’re suddenly dragging him, eyes widening as he trails on your heels in anger until Namjoon drags him back, the latter wanting to watch from afar in doubled curiosity.

Jungkook comes up every now and then to ease himself from boredom, knowing that his visits to earth would be more entertaining now that you’re here. You’re easily an entertaining and calming being to be around with, knowing that you’re easily up there on the list of people he wouldn’t throw into a fire pit no matter what.

“I can do something about it,” he rasps his voice intentionally, a terrifying tingle run down the spines of both guys, but only Namjoon would have a fourth of his dignity to admit that his heart practically dropped down to his ass.

Jungkook plays around a lot and you laugh at his light-hearted joke, even if you wouldn’t put it past him that he’d actually take it into seriousness.

You thought that they (read: Taehyung) would leave you alone because just yesterday, not one bit of intrigue or excitement was expressed and yet here he is, desperately trailing behind you to even sit at the same table that you and Jungkook were sat on.

Scooby’s perched at your shoulder, eating from your palm. The bird placed on you is stupidly large and just too blue, his eyes apart that the whole caricature of him looks funny — it’s easily one of the most entertaining sights Jungkook’s ever seen in his lifetime.

“What a stupid bird.” Taehyung sighs, looking at Scooby who’s never been this clingy with him before.

“Stupid bird,” Jungkook snickers under his breath once he hears Taehyung utter them, thoroughly making sense. “He looks so funky,” he whispers to your ear, chuckling in absolute amusement.

Jungkook takes your hand away so it would be out of Scooby’s reach, but before he knows it, his wrist is slapped by a glaring Taehyung.

“That’s his food. Don’t play with it.”

The whole world seems to still with how neither one of you moves an inch. You could literally feel Jungkook grow warmer beside you that you have to put your hand on his thigh to calm him down.

“You’re messing with the literal devil, Taehyung,” you glare, scratching at your temple.

“Jungkook’s the devil?!” Namjoon whisper-yells from a distance, his hands flailing wildly before he takes his head into them.

“He was messing with his food!” Taehyung reasons to you but it falls on deaf ears, your eyes straight-out pleading to just cut it out and apologize.

“I was just poking at your stupid bird’s food!”

“Don’t talk about him that way.“

Taehyung may have called Scooby stupid just seconds ago, but that doesn’t mean anyone else could call his bird stupid.

“You literally-“

“Shut up.”

Taehyung seems keen in digging a deeper grave for himself, making you resort into calling him by his full name harshly, gaining his attention irritatedly.

“Jungkook can be even meaner than you are, Tae,” you grit through your teeth, “so please stop and just let him call Scooby stupid for once.”

“Hear that? I’m the meanest,” your friend backs up, smugly crossing his arms as he takes your words as a compliment.

“Oh please, I could be the devil if I wanted to,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I’m so mean that I could make Y/N cry right now.”

Before he could even process it, Jungkook smacks the back of Taehyung’s head so hard that he’s certain his brain shook for a second.

“I’ll make another circle of hell just for you.”

“I’m touched.”

“You wouldn’t be once-“

“Jungkook, look! Scooby’s being stupid again!” you exclaim as you convince the bird to bow politely, hoping it’d be enough to catch your friend’s short attention span.

His eyes return back to normal, an innocent hearty laugh leaving him as he looks at the ridiculously stupid bird you have on your shoulder.

“He looks so funky.”

( ♡ )

In your fifth month with Taehyung, you walk on him being the most peaceful he’s ever been.

His study’s been flipped upside down besides the one corner that he stands on, the one area devoid of clutter even if it’s where he does all his work in the canvas.

Pictures are stuck everywhere that serve as a semblance of inspiration for Taehyung, the multitude of trivial photographs and highlighted pages of poetry taking shape into familiarity.

Rarely do you linger around him when he’s at home and you know he’s safe, especially when he’s in his study, but you couldn’t help visiting considering he’s not once left the room for hours.

You know you’re being nosy when you look around the room, eyes landing on what seems to be a pamphlet.

“I know what you’re already thinking,” Taehyung hums, the first one to speak to you ever since you came into his space. He could sense from a mile away your urge of wanting to ease his burden, but this time he beats you to it first. “Don’t help me on this one.”

“You don’t need my help.”

You sincerely answer, making him raise his head in wonder. Rarely do you agree on things that concern both him and your purpose but this is a moment that you’ve come to cherish, no matter how brief.

“You’re already the best at this than whatever help I could offer.”

Taehyung thinks you’re sweet.

“Thanks,” he gently says, going back to what he was doing.

He doesn’t kick you out this time, not uttering a single word as he allows you to linger. You find it weird that he’s not in a hurry to shoo you out but you’re accustomed to it. You let yourself linger for just a few minutes while you watch in silence, shutting your door on the way out.

Maybe you’re not so bad to have around after all.

( ♡ )

Jimin thinks that if there’s hell in heaven, he’d be the first angel to occupy it.

“Seokjin.”

He addresses the older guy in front of him curtly, trying not to think how the both of them are wearing the same cream sweater unintentionally and how it irks him starting from the back of his neck, taking two deep breaths in reminder to never wear this sweater again.

“Ah ah ah, you’re reporting to me right now,” he tuts at Jimin, believing that if he squints his eyes just enough, he’d be able to glaze over the fact that wearing the same sweater as someone in the same room is downright embarrassing. “It’s Mr. Kim Seokjin.”

Additionally, Jimin thinks that if hell were to cram itself into a single structure, it would definitely manifest into the HR Headquarters. Of course in fitting fashion, in order for an individual to get into hell, they’d have to wait a minimum of a millennia to even step into the building.

“Of course,” he smiles with his teeth visible, putting his hands across his back. He bows his head slightly to Jin who’s sat on a chair across his standing figure. “I meant Seokjin, here’s the brief on Y/N’s time on earth.”

Ah, they’re just getting started.

Jimin starts his presentation but not even a minute into it that he gets interrupted, even if he hadn’t opened the floor for inquiries.

“How many months has she been with her human?”

“Six. If you may please look at the screen, you can see how that’s already stated.”

Jimin motions rigidly, his tone overly-polite that it sounded borderline threatening. He points to the presentation that he’s crammed on doing last night, having done it from scratch because there’s no ready-made templates so he made-do with the color scheme he found at a brownie mix packaging and a bunch of your pictures that he had to edit into the slides.

Did he need to impress Seokjin? Not really. Did he feel the urge to impress Seokjin in order to spite him because for some reason, they’ve just been bickering for the past decade over god knows what? Yes.

“Technically, Y/N and Taehyung are doing well,” Jimin starts off but even he sounds uncertain, earning a hum from Jin who doesn’t so convinced either.

“Non-technically, Y/N and Taehyung are not doing well.”

Jimin switches to the next slide of a picture he took of you crying as you both drank coffee atop a mountain on a whim. You were distinctly crying for two reasons: a) because you could finally confide to your mentor and you’re transitioning from mentor-mentee into friends, and b) because the night prior to your impromptu coffee date, Taehyung had told you to get lost quite strongly.

“Y/N had been given residence in his home and provided with everything she needs out of formality. Taehyung’s never been harmed with her around, and the statistics show that she’s a lot more effective than his existing bodyguard.”

Jin nods in understanding, although he can’t exactly tell where’s the part that tells you and your human aren’t doing well.

“The problem is that Taehyung hates her.”

“But he keeps her around…?” he furrows his brows in confusion because there’s absolutely no obligation in holding onto something you hate, the option of letting go purely being uninfluenced.

“I know — and that’s even worse. Y/N doesn’t want to abandon her post either because she loves Taehyung too much.”

Jin’s ears perk up at the l-word and as much as his gaze inquires, Jimin already opens up in a shy mumble of how he could be so ambitious of narrating. “Look, she’s my friend too, okay? I could tell what she feels.”

Meetings like these were necessary and happened every six months but bias aside, Jimin’s not too confident that there’d be a second meeting.

Jin’s not as close with you compared to how Jimin and Jungkook are, but he recalls having a few laughs with you every now and then. He’s well-ware that the department he works in is notorious for being extremely slow and occasionally bitchy, but in the numerous times that he’s seen you in line at the HR, you always throw him a smile.

He asks off-handedly and vaguely but the both of them know what he’s pertaining to anyway, both of their heads down in thought.

“Do you think it’s gonna happen?”

“I can’t necessarily predict,” Jimin admits, playing with the rings on his fingers. “But I’m just saying that it’s not impossible for Taehyung to do it.”

“I hope Y/N doesn’t get hurt,” Jin purses his lips in genuine concern, knowing that if he had to pick someone who he’d protect from falling, it would be you.

The silence that engulfs them is calm yet heavy, their lack of bickering remaining absent at the possibility that both their minds go to; your life at stake.

“I haven’t prayed in a long time,” Jimin looks down on his feet, a weighted sigh leaving his lips that sounds defeated by all accounts, “but for Y/N, I will.”

( ♡ )

In your seventh month with Taehyung, someone attempts to hurt him.

It’s already a given that with you around, Taehyung’s infinitely more guarded compared to only having Namjoon in tow. “He feels safer with you around,” the bodyguard says to you out of the blue when the two of you wait for him to finish getting ready.

He says it like someone had asked him what the time was and as casual as it seems, it means the absolute world to you. You’ve already known initially that Taehyung isn’t the most expressive human alive, showing his appreciation in whichever ways he deems appropriate.

He’s as expressive as he’s impulsive. Namjoon had bought him a burger one time because the food they were serving at a party happened to be everything Taehyung was allergic to, and by the next day, the bodyguard wakes up to a watchbox placed in front of his door.

He’s as soft as he’s vibrant. You’ve only had a few opportunities to see your human interact with his mother, but every time you catch sight of them, Tae almost always has his hand on her arm to keep her close to him.

Taehyung’s unpredictable, that much you find about him today.

You and Namjoon flank him at both sides at all times in public. The two of you aren’t his only security detail because he’s always had a hoarde of guards following him for big events (as per instruction by his mom), but two of you are the closest.

Things like these are already mundane for him no matter how extravagant they could be. He was due to make an appearance at an evening gala that accumulated a record-worthy number of sponsors — it’s just a Thursday for him.

Taehyung’s so used to these things that he doesn’t even hesitate to walk straight without batting an eyelash, his tunnel vision only going straight ahead to tune out the crowd forming around him. His attention’s only on himself that he fails to see the rising commotion. Not even ten steps into the venue, in a mix of people crowding him, someone at one point brought out a knife.

It happened too quick that the attempt was only belatedly registered the moment you intervened. You take the assailant by yourself whereas Namjoon took charge of removing Taehyung from the venue entirely, the other security details equally as jolted by the crowd that they all pile onto Taehyung, barely a silhouette now that he’s shrouded while walking away.

It was a frenzy that cancelled the gala altogether but none of it mattered because as Taehyung made headlines for having been attempted on, you bleed.

It’s a mystery to you on how the unfamiliar shade of red comes from your own skin. How did this even happen? All that you remember doing in the short span of seconds is you throwing his figure to the wall, a sight that ignited the commotion more. You do remember the pathetic excuse of a knife, dull and rusty, barely lodging into your side as the stranger yielded it blindly. What you don’t remember at all is the pain that comes with it, only a dull thrum of the hurt you aren’t used to.

You’re bleeding but none of it matters because it isn’t Taehyung who’s going through this pain — it’s you.

“You’re not supposed to be hurt,” Taehyung could only stare at your exposed skin, eyes nervously flitting to Namjoon’s hands every now and then to see if he’s hurting you. “Why are you bleeding then?”

No one’s ever tried to harm him this way nor has Namjoon ever been hurt to this extent.

Taehyung was panicked to realize that as soon as he was jammed back into his car, you’re the only one who’s been separated. Not one of his guards came to aid into you and it angers him beyond comprehension.

"You never bleed."

The realization sinks into him that not once have you bled the entire time you’ve been with him. No paper cuts, not even a single scratch from Scooby’s sharp claws whenever he perches on you. Not once did he see you hurt and it makes his stomach sink when he sees your eyes screw tightly, that even without a single sound, he could tell that you’re hurting.

“No, no. You're not supposed to,” he breathlessly laughs but there’s no humor in it whatsoever, his eyes pricking all of a sudden.

"Has this ever happened to you before?"

Namjoon’s hands tremble while he patches you up but from the severity of Taehyung’s question, even he stops in his actions. He doesn’t know what to hear but the moment you reply in a daze, he knows that it’s not the answer he wanted.

"No."

Taehyung notices the way the liveliness drain from your face, your suddenly quiet demeanor giving into his conclusion that you clearly knowing something about what’s happening to you.

"What does this mean?"

"Nothing," you answer a little too quickly, rolling your eyes as you nudge Namjoon to wrap up quickly. "It means angels can bleed too."

The only angel Taehyung knows is you; he knows almost nothing about them to begin with, but what he does know that you, out of all the people he knows within this earth and not, don’t deserve the pain that is meant for him.

"Do something about yourself," he mumbles, hanging his head down to try and soothe the vertigo he gets from seeing you hurt. "Go to a hospital. Call Jimin."

“Do whatever you need to do to make yourself better,” he says in his head, his eyes no longer being able to meet you.

You don’t know why he’s throwing such a big fuss that his bodyguard had already managed to fix. The pain is nothing to you but a dull ache and you’ve been hurt more than a mere graze could.

You don’t know why you grow angry at your human at his sudden display of concern for you, making you clench your jaw because you want him to stop worrying for himself instead — you aren’t worthy of his concern.

"Let go of it already, Taehyung."

"How am I supposed to let it go when my guardian angel's bleeding? How are you-" he snaps, making him hiss in realization that he’s raising his voice at you. “How are you supposed to protect me this way?"

Taehyung rarely asks you questions but among the handful he’s inquired, this was the most trivial, nonsensical, and pathetic question you’ve ever heard.

"I'll protect you even if I bleed."

( ♡ )

In your eighth month with Taehyung, he asks you a question out of nowhere.

"Why haven’t I ever seen your wings before?"

Taehyung’s attitude changed ever since you’ve bled.

When the incident had happened, you took the initiative in distancing yourself from him, barely just enough for you to protect him still. You would go through your motions of the day by accompanying him wherever and relieving any pain he’d feel, but you no longer lingered around him.

Whenever Taehyung ate out, you’d drag a fork against his meal and bring it up for you to smell if there was anything, and then could he eat. You’d do it still, but Taehyung would wait for a beat for you to play around and blow his food for him; sometimes intentionally eating slower to see if you’d put food from your plate into his.

He’s used to you having one hand on his elbow with the other arm outstretched when walking through a crowd, but what he looks for nowadays is your cold hand on his skin, having to steal another glance at you when he walks without your guidance.

He still bothers you occasionally at night to take him somewhere since Namjoon wouldn’t allow him, and you oblige wordlessly. Sometimes he makes you take him to places he doesn’t even want to (sometimes borderline sketchy) for the sake of testing out whether you’d make conversation with him if it’s only the two of you, but you don’t.

When you bled, you know what it meant. It wasn’t a definitive conclusion but you know that somewhere along the way, you’ve grown vulnerable. You’re not above pain anymore because you’ve shot underneath its threshold.

It’s said that when an angel bleeds, they’re nearing the worst point of pain in their lifetime.

"You can't see them?

You ask curiously to Taehyung who came out to join you in the patio by his own accord, his hands meekly tucked into his pockets. He nods no and you get what he’s pointing to, understandable that angels are known by their feathered appendages.

"Normally, you should see them whenever I have them out."

"Do you have them out right now?" his eyebrows furrow, tilting his head to gaze at the back of your shirt. He’s nervous to know if you’ve had them out the whole time and all along, he’s the only who couldn’t see them.

You chuckle at the panic on his face, sincerely answering. “No."

A silence that comes from you is a silence that always puts Taehyung at unease. He’s grown accustomed to your bubbliness that he no longer treats your words as white noise, learning to listen to you actively than in passing.

"When was the last time you had them out?"

“When I needed to prove myself to Namjoon.”

Eight months had passed by so quickly yet at the first six, it felt like an eternity to Taehyung. Lately, time had been passing for him too fast in the blink of an eye that he gets nervous whenever the night comes, the feeling of unease rising in his stomach for reasons he didn’t even know of.

“Describe what your wings look like, I'll try to picture it in my head."

The request, or rather the implication that he wanted to know what you look like flies over your head. Your wings are your own for formality’s sake ,but not once did you feather them out to look at them as an extension of yourself.

Your wings aren’t pretty.

Jimin’s wings are perhaps the prettiest pair that you’ve ever seen, the gentle hues yet the overwhelmingly beautiful structure of them being so fitting for himself that you can’t imagine them belonging to anyone else. You’ve seen a handful of wings in your lifetime — including Jungkook’s that are elegant and sophisticated in their own way.

The realization dawns on you that Taehyung’s asking to see a part of you that you don’t want to, and knowing him, perhaps the sheer underwhelm your wings bring is what would set him away further from you.

"Maybe some other time, Taehyung."

"But I want to-"

This time it’s you who leaves him, not sparing a single glance back at him.

"Some other time."

( ♡ )

In your ninth month with Taehyung, you learn that he has a girlfriend.

Crossing his heart, Namjoon promises you that Taehyung and Hyori are a fairly new couple. He knew her when he was just starting out as his bodyguard, pinning her to be a family friend. She’s a constant face in all the socialite functions that Taehyung’s been attending for as long as he can remember. And if you can remember correctly, you’ve already seen her numerous times.

In fact, you only learned of their relationship accidentally. They’ve fucked several times through the years (the bodyguard confirms) but it was only two weeks ago that they decided to try out an actual relationship. Namjoon swears up and down that he was meant to let you in on the secret this week, but you beat him to it when you knock on Taehyung’s study to see a woman slung around him.

Hyori looks like someone who’s been shaped by the gods themselves and you’d be the first angel to admit it. She could easily pass for divinity, and just by her looks, you wouldn’t blame Taehyung for falling for her.

But Hyori makes you uncomplacent.

She smiles charmingly but there’s just something about her that makes your skin crawl. Your hands are cold because you have the warmest heart but god does her warmth bother you to no end, making you hold your own breath around her.

There’s something about her that reminds you of bleeding even if the only thing she’s done is hug you politely, even her sweet scent reminding you of the metallic taste of red.

"I don't feel good about her, Tae."

Taehyung could only sigh at your paranoia, rolling his eyes at you because he’s in too much of a high to pay attention to your worries.

"Well isn't it a relief that what you feel about her has no significance nor bearing to me?"

( ♡ )

In your tenth month with Taehyung, you confide in Jungkook.

“I feel like she’s a devil. Like a literal devil.”

He came over again but this time with no prior notice. He was growing bored down under but despite his abrupt appearance, Taehyung couldn’t care less, already preoccupied with entertaining Hyori.

Jungkook follows your gaze as he pets Scooby on his shoulder, tilting his head in inspection before answering.

“Nah. Not one of us.”

Your friend denies your suspicions and oddly enough, this is the only time that you’ve been unsettled for someone not being a devil. Hyori is a force to be reckoned with, and a human at that, that frustrates you all the more because she just has to be the ultimate at everything.

“Not one of us! Not one of us!”

Jungkook immediately laughs at Scooby’s repetition, letting him preen on his ear piercings. “Smart bird! You’re not stupid anymore, are you?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!”

He furrows his brows at the sudden change of words, realizing that Scooby isn’t looking at him anymore but to you instead, leading his gaze right to your blank one.

Jungkook could recognize that look anywhere, smiling to himself as he pats the back of your head.

“You’re jealous?” he tries asking, earning an offended scoff that just confirmed his assumption. “Looks like someone’s in love.”

“Give it a rest,” you sigh tiredly, stirring the coffee that Namjoon gave both to you and Jungkook with his hands trembling. He’s still certainly not used to Jungkook and how he did a party trick of rolling his eyes back to his skull just to tease the bodyguard. You feel tempted to ask Jungkook to put a tiny dancing flame on your palm, just for the sake of distracting yourself. “This isn’t my first time falling in love.”

“Trust me, I do know that,” he wiggles his brows and you know that you wouldn’t hear the end of it, “you haven’t given your first love a call these days?”

“Shut up.”

Your first love wasn’t a sensitive issue — in fact, you love talking about him because there’s nothing inherently bad about how you ended that you refuse to do so. You’d entertain his mention any other day besides now, because you know that Jungkook likes comparisons and consequently, getting into your head.

He doesn’t rasp his voice intentionally, only lowering it into a whisper but it only turns worse with what he says.

“If you ask me, Taehyung isn’t even half of who Yoongi is.”

“That’s because you’re his friend.”

Yoongi and Jungkook are the closest pair of friends you’ve ever met, so much so to the point that during the times you and Yoongi were still together, Jungkook would tag around in dates and even insist on sleeping between the two of you whenever you napped.

You knew Jungkook through Yoongi and despite being broken up with your first love, you don’t regret anything and anyone you’ve ever known through him.

Jungkook was never one to make his worries known but in the rare times that he did, one of it was of you and his closest friend breaking up. You remember him begging and praying that nothing changes between his dynamic with either of you, and it was safe to say that nothing did.

“Hey, I don’t just befriend any angel, y’know?” he’s not trying to get into your head this time around. He knows about his bias but he doesn’t you to take it lightly, deciding to spread all the cards out on the table first.

“If you ask me-“

“I’m not asking.”

“Don’t put all your harvests into one basket,” he blurts, tapping his fingers onto the table to get you to focus.

“Why?” your eyes squint at the analogy, unaware of how another made-up saying could possibly relate to you.

“Because that’s greed,” he cheekily smiles, dropping it immediately when he sees you aren’t joking around. “Fine, seven deadly sins aside, what I’m saying is,” he clears his throat, putting aside his desperation.

Sometimes, you think that it’s Jungkook in this universe that wants you to get back with Yoongi the most.

“Would you really rather give all your love to a human who doesn’t give it back, or would you rather take a few of your love instead and give it to someone who would?”

“Jungkook.”

He frowns at your stern tone, crossing his arms as he purses his lips.

“You’re falling and we both know it.”

Jungkook sees right through you and it’s something you can’t avoid, finding no use in even sheltering your gaze from his eyes that seem full of pity.

“Trust me, baby,” he sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “It’s the only pain you can’t protect yourself from.”

( ♡ )

In your eleventh month with Taehyung, Hyori breaks up with him.

The two of them were going exceptionally well, almost to the point that she was over almost everyday in his study doing whatever they pleased.

The two of them went along perfectly which is why you couldn’t think of any tangible reason of why would they break up, immediately going to Taehyung to try and ease the pain in his heart you’re sure he must be feeling.

The moment you opened the door to the patio is the exact second that his head turns to you, instantly standing up from his seat and charging towards you that it made you back up into the living room altogether.

Taehyung’s mad, angrily crying with his finger pointed at you.

"She broke up with me because she thought you were my girlfriend!”

Your mouth dries at his words, pupils unfocusing at what he was insinuating. You’ve never done anything to come between them and in fact, you made a point in avoiding them whenever they were together. In reality, you even went against your judgement of trying to protect Taehyung because there was something about Hyori you can’t decipher, instead leaving them alone so he’d be pleased.

“But I didn’t-“ But I didn’t do anything.

Anything you do is what seems to set off Taehyung further, walking past you in a rage he couldn’t contain.

"Oh my god! Just disappear, won’t you?! I wouldn’t mind."

( ♡ )

AN OPEN LETTER TO KIM TAEHYUNG: Don’t do art. Stick to being a rich douchebag.

The headline on your phone glares at you.

Today was meant to be a special day, really. Jimin had taken the initiative to take care of the little celebration he and Seokjin had in mind because after all, today was your one year with Taehyung.

The two of them had put aside their banter for several weeks and came together to throw you a tiny shower of happiness that you deserve for all that you’ve endured. They planned their little speeches upon seeing you all until the filling of the cake they were going to surprise you with.

And then the omen came.

The rain was pouring even if they asked headquarters repeatedly if it would and they said no, since most of the activities of the day they planned revolved around sunshine.

Then they ignored the omen.

The moment morning rolls around and your eyes open, you see Jimin and Seokjin by the end of your bed, their smiles too big for your own good. Their energy was purely innocent and happy that you can’t help but mirror them, awed that they even remember what today was for.

The minute you go downstairs to introduce them to Taehyung — no one could be found downstairs, not even Namjoon who wakes up the earliest.

7:01

he didn’t tell you???

i thought you knew

we’re setting up for his exhibit

7:17

i forgot what today was im sorry :(

happy one year!

just come here!! tae’s in a good mood anyway

You’ve spent the day with Jimin and Seokjin instead even if they insisted that they wouldn’t mind at all if you join Taehyung instead, their conscience for you overpowering them to see you bummed.

It shouldn’t come a surprise to you at all that out of the two of you, you’re the only one who remembers the significance of your meeting a year ago. A year is nothing to your concept of time but it’s a year that you’ve lived and loved the most — it’s the same year that has passed and no matter how accomplished you feel, it’s on your end.

You don’t blame Taehyung for his indifference because nothing on your manual told you that he needed to change for you; it wasn’t a give or take relationship, per se. Your existence isn’t rooted on reciprocity but rather selflessness, your own destiny revolving around keeping a human safe.

It’s your day that’s supposed to be celebrated the most but in actuality, it’s the day you’d never forget because of how much you hate it.

The day hasn’t ended and you hate it the most with the way it’s been a year and still, in your own pathetic way, you’re the one who ends up relying on your human instead of the other way around.

Taehyung barely needs you and what you hate the most about it is how much you’ve endured throughout, even if he had told you time and time again that he wants nothing to do with you.

You would never receive the love you give and it drains you endlessly.

The commitment you had a year ago is tainted with the way that from this day alone, you’ve realized much more than you could ever have for the past three hundred and sixty-four.

Taehyung’s opening show was a disaster.

The exhibit itself wasn’t even publicized, his real name not even being used for the registration in the first place. Only his mother and Namjoon knew about him being a part of this exhibit; he was happy. He was on a high the whole night because as he lingered, dressed nothing like how he normally would with his face covered with a mask, people loved his craft.

People loved something of his that didn’t have his face nor name in it and it’s the sight that made him feel the most recognized he had been in a while. Namjoon had kept calling him over while pointing at his phone but Taehyung just laughs, mistaking his frantic actions for praise.

It’s only until Namjoon had forcibly plucked him outside of the gallery and shoved him into the front seat that Taehyung realizes what he was getting at, the bright screen of his bodyguard’s phone illuminating the dim interior of the car.

AN OPEN LETTER TO KIM TAEHYUNG: Don’t do art. Stick to being a rich douchebag.

His stomach churns at what he reads, trying to will his eyes into looking away but he just can’t stop scrolling, the lump in his throat growing by the second to the point it gets harder to breathe.

There’s pictures of him in his study, canvas upon canvas displayed the more he scrolls. Some where he’s holding the brush while looking at his work in passing, some where his face is seen while he looks at the camera, some actually videos of him painting and some of him shirtless while walking around his study.

Everything in the article is unmistakably him — there’s no way around it.

The article’s penned anonymously but he puts a name to each piece of media he’s ever seen, the urge to throw up rising from his throat.

Hyori.

Taehyung’s sick to his stomach just by thinking how evil the woman had been and how dumb he was for not questioning his intentions once. The high he felt just minutes ago feels like a fever dream in the new low that he drowns from, crying violently in the backseat while Namjoon drives ahead.

He’d been so blind and trusting that he gets angry at himself, pounding his head weakly because his thoughts are louder than what he could manage, humming to himself in a desperate attempt.

Taehyung refuses to even go inside his room, much less the house, because in every which way he goes, he’d pass by his study and he’d feel like imploding.

He lets himself become drenched in the patio because it hasn’t stopped raining and it’s the only sound loud enough to overpower his mind, heaving under the heavy droplets.

His thoughts only stop the minute the rain stops falling down on him on a circle, even if it continues pouring on everywhere else besides him.

Taehyung needs you.

The firs thing he does when he feels you sit next to him is embrace you, loud sobs wracking his ribs that it feels like he has no bones by the way he slacks over your figure, his heart hurting the heaviest.

“Please take the pain away.”

Taehyung pleads to you and you squeeze him tightly, carrying the pain he felt. You would’ve taken the burden out of his heart even if he didn’t ask you to. You keep taking the pain away from him and for a second, you felt you could no longer bear it with how substantial it is, but you don’t stop.

You don’t stop taking your human’s pain away until you feel him relax into your hold, a sigh of relief being released in solitude, resisting your own urge from whimpering outloud.

You realize that even if you’re the highest in the room, you’d never stop needing Taehyung and it would be your downfall.

Taehyung needs you in rainy days when his heart feels the heaviest.

Unlike you, Taehyung doesn’t need you when the snow is falling and everything set into place by the universe is content in their positions.

He doesn’t yearn for you when he isn’t hurt and put into inconveniences that only you could solve for him.

He doesn’t look for you when the sky above is heavy and the earth beneath is cold, because he has you to keep the universe in balance for him at all times.

Taehyung only wants you around when he needs you.

Your human’s relaxed to the point that he just gives in to his fatigue, his head laid on your shoulder with his eyes blinking slowly, ready to sleep at the next gust of wind that would lull him into a dream.

You look at him for what you think is the last time, thumb pressing into his cheek that it makes him open his eyes wider.

You kiss him.

You hold Taehyung by his face and kiss him fully for only a second too long, pulling away even before you run out of breath.

Taehyung isn’t shocked, but his eyes only blink lazily, a small smile on his lips as he shakes his head.

"Don't kiss me,” the small smile is still on his face and his voice is the most gentle you’ve ever heard. "You're kissing me because I'm sad.."

"I'm not,” you chuckle, pleasantly surprised at the way he isn’t flipping out at all. His head’s back to being perched on your shoulder, looking into the city below him while you continue. "I really just wanted to kiss you."

Neither of you are mad at each other. Whatever you’ve felt today before you saw each other remains only to yourself, the weight of each being relieved because it’s you who carries them both.

A year has already passed and this is only the first time that Taehyung lets you in completely, and the fault of it all is something you cannot trace. You don’t live as humans do but this is the most alive you have ever felt in your lifetime, feeling the need to explain why you’ve kissed him out of the blue.

“I kissed you because loving you is all I know."

Taehyung’s laugh erupts from his chest and it’s the warmest sound you’ve ever heard, the syrup of it spreading to your hands as this is the only time you’ve felt them to be warm.

"Then unlearn it, silly.”

His voice isn’t raised — it’s just calm. His features aren’t laced with anger and his eyes are calm without malice. Taehyung talks to you about your confession as if he’s talking about the weather, taking it casually and in a stride.

“You remind me of a stray cat, y’know?” he hums, patting your thigh. “I feed you once and you keep coming back to me.”

His head is turned away from you and he wants to keep it that way. His heart may be light but the only concern he’s been carrying the past year is the final weight that he wants to get rid of.

"I don't want you to be my guardian angel anymore."

The words don’t hurt you in the same way you thought they initially would, but you know the pain would settle in your bones sooner or later.

"Say that one more time."

Taehyung doesn’t know why you’re not going on your knees to make him take his words back but he figures that you’re just indulging him like you always do, complying obediently.

"I revoke you."

He connects all his misfortunes in his life, especially from the past year, directly to you and your involvement with him.

"One more."

You hum, patting his head for what seems to be the last time. Jimin and Seokjin stand from a distance unseen, but you refuse to look at them when you know you’d crumble immediately.

"I repulse you."

.

.

.

.

Taehyung wakes up to one less heartbeat in his house.

The moment he comes down the stairs and calls out to no one in particular, but no one (read: you) greets him, even if he could clearly see Namjoon’s figure standing by the middle of the living room —

You’re not there anymore.

The moment he comes down the stairs, he’s hit by the familiarity that this is exactly his house before you came along.

There should be houseplants hanging from the ceiling at the corner of the room but they’re nowhere to be found, not even a single trace of the holes the screws left behind.

There should be multiple ribbons tied to Scooby’s cage because you’ve once told them that it would serve as his room decor, but not one strand of the fabric could be seen on his cage.

There should be a quilt at your bed and a picture of him on your nightstand but they’re nowhere to be seen because the room that they open the door to, is the same room the house had before you moved in — an empty one.

“No, no, this can’t be happening,” Taehyung repeats under his breath, his breathing picking up at the lack of you and why there’s nothing in his home that suggests you were here.

He opens his phone and demands Namjoon for his but none of the pictures have you in it, the blank space in the middle of when the three of you would go out for walks staring right at Taehyung.

The tears prick at his eyes because even if he remembers what you look like, there’s nothing he owns that would make him see you.

“Ask the clouds to remember,” you’ve told him in passing. He wasn’t actively listening to you at the time but it appears in his head from the numerous times he’s racked it for any sign of you.

The sinking feeling he has on his chest weighs him down but he remains rooted, knowing that maybe if he gets hurt just enough, you would come to his side and relieve him of his pain.

"Not my Y/N, please. Please,” he prays to no one in particular, eyes screw shut while the skies remain gray. "I'm your human, remember?"

No one answers him and it’s a silence that makes his mind the noisiest, the overwhelming feeling of hurt raising to his throat that he looks around in paranoia, seeing if you were just playing tricks with him.

"You can't leave me — n-no, no! Not this way."

Taehyung thinks he’s seeing things because he sees shadows of you that he can’t reach out for, a whine bubbling at his throat when he looks at the sky. “Give me back my angel, please,” he asks endlessly, staring into the sky that floats above him.

He stares into the sky long enough that it makes him see white hot pain, but it doesn’t matter to him because his own hurt doesn’t bring you back.

Taehyung anticipates and anticipates your voice, apologizing to him for making him worried. He anticipates the way you’d pat his hair and beckon him to eat breakfast. When he closes his eyes at the count of three, you should be here. If he prays just hard enough, you would come back to him because the angel that he knows always would.

One.

Two.

Three.

Taehyung’s pain doubles in weight when he doesn’t see you even if he’s put his hands together and pleaded to the heavens. All he sees is Namjoon distraught trying to catch a flash of blue that flies out the patio even in the rain, settling onto the chair you always used to sit on.

Scooby is the last thing he wants to see at the moment, flicking at the air next to the stupid bird to get him to scram.

Scooby doesn’t even move an inch because he only tilts his head at Taehyung, his voice parroting the same sentence he’s been hearing from you for the past year.

“I love you, Taehyung!”

reported you to the copyright section on weverse for your concert stream, they’ll be in touch. i have bills to pay rent to pay food to buy but i do this thing called budgeting to ensure i can pay for bts content legally. and very simply yea if you don’t pay you don’t deserve it. you can’t walk into a shop and think oh i like this dress so i’m going to take it without paying that’s called theft and is illegal. this is the same thing. if you don’t pay you don’t get. why should i spend $80 for 2 concerts and you get them free, no that’s unfair. any real army will pay and if you don’t you don’t deserve the boys, their content or their hard work.

you're so fucking ugly (and i mean this as a person, on the inside. rotten like a fucking apple that's fallen off the tree). like. lmaaaaaaaaaaao i can't even. it's as if you don't have a brain. which is crazy, because you say you have rent to pay and food to buy but i'm pretty sure things without brains don't have responsibilities? y'know? *insert oprah's what is the truth? gif*

anyway. honestly, i don't have to reply to this. i know i probably shouldn't, because this is such a stupid ask it doesn't deserve an answer. but i've got time, babes, so here we go!

firstly, you're a shit army, because what's something that bts has always advocated for? acceptance, community, love. you're going to sit there on your high horse and bitch and complain like "weh weh weh it's not fair that i've got a stick shoved too far up my ass to consider other people's circumstances and have compassion!" get a life, pal. grow a heart. maybe it'll help take the strain off the nonexistent brain you've got.

secondly, you know that yoongi, during a vlive (i think?), searched for a stream for a soccer game, right? as in, an illegal stream? the man who you claim to support so much LITERALLY did what you're shitting on other people for? so do you think he doesn't have a right to watch that, either? that he's an illegal scumbag who doesn't really support korea? or does your asinine viewpoint only apply to fellow army?

lastly, jimin straight up answered an army on weverse telling them the following:

if jimin - and presumably the rest of the boys - don't hold it against their fans for watching content using an alternative method, why the fuck do you care? are you secretly bang pd? do you have some like, idk, dividends we need to know about? it's absolutely insane that you're licking the boots of a fucking entertainment company and coming here, into my inbox, to tear down the people who only want to enjoy content.

as much as we love bts, things are expensive. sorry that people have found a way to stream stuff without having to miss their rent. sorry they've maybe bought merchandise but just didn't have it in their expendable income to also buy tickets to muster. but actually, i'm not sorry at all and neither should any other army be.

anyway, you are an inexplicably sad person. i genuinely hope that you, at some point, can figure out wtf happened to make you this way and move on from it. because god knows you need it. toodles!

ps. reported me to weverse? using what? "hey, big hit. this fanfic author on tumblr streamed to people. can you do something about it?" you sound wack as hell.

REBLOG IF YOU AGREE

Newt Scamander.

Kim Seokjin

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Kim Namjoon

Park Jimin

Kim Taehyung

Jeon Jeongguk

CAN YALL TEACH MY BOOMER ASS HOW TO DO MASTERLISTS I CANT DO ITSHDHSB

Christopher Robert Evans don’t do that with your eyes 

Reblog if you’d still love Jungkook without abs