casuallyimagining - Tumblr blog

casuallyimagining · 13 hours

Text

Doubt || kth.

Kim Taehyung x female!reader

Summary: Taehyung is an eccentric young musician working on a song that he believes will save him. Can it also save the woman he loves?

Genre: Greek Mythology AU, Orpheus AU, Fluff, Angst Word Count: 8,678 Rating: T Warnings: hunger and poverty; manipulation; major character death

Notes: Based on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Thanks to @daechwitatamic for beta-ing. Banner by @itaeewon.

It’s so cold out that you can see your breath, a puff of pale steam that quickly disappears into the dull landscape around you. The clouds are starting to lighten, they’re less grey, less dense, and you can tell the sun’s still somewhere up there, at least. But gods, it’s almost mid-May and you can’t remember the last time you’d seen blue sky. Hell, you can’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

Growing up, you’d heard stories of the seasons changing on time. Tales of spring coming in late March, bringing rain and flowers and much-needed warmth; that fall would reliably start at the end of September, the land turning to shades of orange and red and yellow. Between that, days got warmer and longer, and then colder and shorter. It was a cycle, and it was predictable, and it was nice, and it was mundane.

That didn’t really happen anymore.

You tug your jacket closer around your body. It’s starting to wear thin and the zipper is broken. You’ll need to find a way to fix it when you get into the next town. There’s no way you’ll be able to afford a new one, but maybe you can trade for some lining and a new zipper. Though that means you’ll have to find something to trade…

Good-paying jobs are hard to find, especially with the world’s economy in flux the way that it is. Most everyone is more focused on finding food and shelter, and people are much more willing to migrate to find work during the good season if they can. You’d been doing odd-jobs up and down the eastern seaboard for years now, as long as you could take care of yourself. Some cleaning here, accompanying someone to a different town there. You’d even done some childcare near the gulf when you’d been down south.

Now, you’re following the railroad tracks north.

Eventually, you stumble upon a sleepy town somewhere south of the city you’re trying to get to. There aren’t that many buildings that you can really see, and most of them are still covered in snow. Snow’s piled up along the streets and under the windows–it’s almost touching the sills in some places. None of the buildings look to be taller than three stories. The town is small, but the square in the middle of town is surrounded by lit buildings. You’re freezing. First stop: find a bar or a hotel or an inn.

The bar isn’t hard to find, but it’s dark when you finally push through the door in a swirl of bitter wind and snow flurries. Every head in the bar turns to look as you enter. You slide into a table by the door, a little embarrassed but ultimately just happy to be out of the cold.

“You’re not from around here.” The man who approaches your table is tall and confident, and when he offers you a soft smile, you instantly feel more at ease. He pulls a small pad of paper out of his back pocket and slides into the booth across from you. “I’m Yoongi.”

You tell him your name, and he tells you what’s good on the menu before taking your order. Yoongi leaves you alone with a promise to check on you later to make sure you have a place to stay the night. You allow yourself to relax into the vinyl cushions of the booth, enjoying the atmosphere–significantly less tense now that Yoongi has welcomed you into the establishment–and the warmth of the fireplace across the room.

There’s a house band that sits in the corner playing some jazzy number that reminds you of one of the gulf cities you’d stayed in back when you were passing through the bayous of the south. The pianist is slight, a little too skinny, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he plays. He’s talented, remarkably so, and paired with the saxophone and the upright bass, the music they play is some of the best you’d heard in a very long time.

A plate clattering onto the table in front of you draws your attention from the band. A young man stands in front of you, honeyed eyes wide. He looks to be around your age, his dark hair pushed out of his eyes with a thick cloth headband. He has a kind energy, despite his sharp features, if not a little odd.

“Yoongi said you’re new in town,” he says finally, his voice a little deeper than you were expecting. “Do you have somewhere to stay? Are you going to be here long? You should stay with Yoongi and I.”

You sigh. The man is forward, that’s for sure. You’d been hoping to grab a hot meal here, rest a little, and move on. You’re close to the city–maybe a couple days of walking, less if you can hitch a ride with someone or sneak on the train. But you can tell that this place, and these people, is somewhere you could easily stay in.

You can’t let that happen.

Yoongi appears then, a glass of water in his hands. He places it on the table in front of you, nudging the man out of the way. “Don’t be a pest, Taehyung. Remember what I said about scaring away my customers?”

“Oh, so he’s like this with everyone?” You ask it playfully, but there’s a bit of real questioning in it. You get the sense that maybe this guy–this Taehyung–is a bit of an oddball. Not in a bad way, but you’d like to know what you’re dealing with.

The way Yoongi rolls his eyes tells you that yes, Taehyung is like this with everyone. “He tell you about his song yet?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, he’s a singer.”

Taehyung blushes, a light dusting of pink blossoming across his cheeks. “There’s this contest, and I… The prize is a year’s supply of soup.”

You hum. Any more, money isn’t really a great prize. Bartering is more or less how the economy runs. But soup? Any kind of food in that amount would make someone richer than even the wealthiest city dwellers.

Taehyung is certainly an intriguing fellow.

You can’t say at what point in the night Yoongi slipped away, or when Taehyung slipped into the booth across from you. But you can’t deny that--despite his way too forward introduction--his presence is comfortable.

“What brings you into town?” he asks as you take a bite of your sandwich, watching you expectantly as you chew.

“Job hunting,” you say simply, glancing in the direction of the band as they start to play again.

“What did you do before? Where are you from?”

You shrug. “Bit of everything.”

Taehyung hums and rests his chin in his hand. If he notices that you ignore his second question, he doesn’t mention it. “Hey, maybe Yoongi could give you a job? He’s always saying about needing someone else to wait tables. Apparently I’m ‘unreliable’ and ‘flighty’.” He makes a face, eyes widening almost comically as he wiggles his head.

Then, he sighs dramatically and watches the band for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. It’s a little dopey, but it’s endearing how his face scrunches up and he covers his mouth with his hand.

When he calms down, he leans on his hand. “Yoongi really isn’t that bad to work for. He’s just busy is all. He runs the bar, but he’s also station master over at the train station, and he delivers mail sometimes when the post office is short-staffed.”

“That’s… a lot of jobs.”

Taehyung shrugs. “He likes to stay busy.”

Things quiet down, then, and you listen to the band play as you finish your meal. Sometimes, Taehyung speaks, telling you a bit about his life and about the bar, but for the most part, he sits with you in silence. He nods along with the band, and every once in a while, he pulls out a small notebook to jot something down. Even though he isn’t talking as much, he seems happy. You get the sense that he’s just excited you aren’t ignoring him or shooing him away.

When it’s time for the bar to close, Yoongi comes to collect Taehyung so they can get to work cleaning and closing the establishment.

“Wait for me?” Taehyung whispers to you as you stand from the booth. He tugs the scarf from around his neck and drapes it over yours. The striped fabric is a little thin, but you can feel his body heat radiating off it slightly. “I’ll meet you when we’re done. There’s a park down that way three blocks.” He points east. “It’s just across the street from my apartment. You can wait there if you want.”

He’s gone before you even confirm that you’d wait for him.

“He’s a good kid,” Yoongi’s voice from behind you makes you jump. “He’s a little naive, but he’s got a big heart.” He holds the door open for you as you leave the bar. He nods at you. “I’ll see you later.”

The night is cold, but nowhere near as bitter as it had been a few nights before. The seasons are starting to change. This year, if you’re lucky, maybe it'll last the correct amount of time.

You find the park easily, wandering around it for a few minutes before selecting a bench near the center fountain. It’s turned off to prevent the icy spray from getting whipped around in the wind, and you’re grateful. The last thing you need is to be cold and wet.

It’s a surprisingly nice night. The clouds have parted, if only slightly, and you can see stars in the breaks in the gloom. You tug your jacket around your body and wrap Taehyung’s scarf around your neck, closing your eyes and leaning back against the bench. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to just relax.

You’d started out almost a month ago when the blizzard ended. The town you had been staying in had started to get too small, the people had started to get too friendly. It had all started to chafe at your brain. So you’d left and started walking, catching a ride where you could, always following the train tracks.

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you until a body sliding onto the bench beside you makes you jump.

“Sorry,” Taehyung apologizes, a soft, boxy smile on his lips. “We uh… we finished up early, and you looked so pretty just sitting here. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

It’s not a problem, and you tell him as much, placing a hand on his forearm as he leans sideways against the back of the bench. The flush springs to his cheeks almost immediately, his eyes flashing to where you’re touching him.

“So you’re a singer,” you ask, changing the subject. Taehyung nods sheepishly. “Sing something for me?”

“Oh! I uh… wouldn’t know what to sing.” Taehyung dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

You hum. “Oh come on. You can’t just say you’re working on this song and then not sing.”

He sighs. “I don’t know...”

“At least hum something for me?”

For a moment, he stays silent, and you think he’s going to tell you no again. Which would be fine. You would drop it. You’re curious, and you’re a little stubborn, but you know when to drop something. But when he opens his mouth, he sings.

The tune is beautiful and haunting, despite it being incredibly simple. It’s only a few notes that for the most part move up and down along the scale. You’re mesmerized, and you close your eyes, feeling a warmth spreading through your body. He stops suddenly, and the park grows eerily quiet.

“Taehyung, you’re amazing.”

His smile is brilliant, and he looks beautiful in what little moonlight there is. You don’t know why your stomach is doing flips.

“Oh hey you two,” Yoongi greets, suddenly in front of you. “Ready to go home?”

As it turns out, Taehyung and Yoongi live together. You walk across the street with the two men, pausing in front of a door between the two ground-floor businesses–a bookstore and an empty storefront.

Yoongi slumps into the sofa, seemingly exhausted, while Taehyung disappears deeper into the apartment. He returns a few minutes later, changed into more comfortable clothes, carrying some blankets and a change of clothes for you, too.

“You can use these,” he says, handing the bundle to you. Then, he turns to Yoongi. “It would be nice to be able to offer a job, you know…”

“It’s late. We’ll talk more later. It’s past my bedtime, and you kids have to be up early tomorrow. It’s a big day.”

“Wh-” Yoongi waves goodnight, and he’s gone before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.

A few moments pass in silence before Taehyung yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He encourages you to get comfortable and bids you goodnight then, apologizing for not having a proper bed for you to sleep in. His is small, he says, or he’d offer to share. But honestly, the couch doesn’t seem so bad. It looks soft, and it’s better than sleeping on a bench outside. He looks like he wants to leave, but he’s frozen in place.

“Thanks,” you tell him softly. “For everything. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

“Do you want your scarf back?” You unwind it from around your neck, holding it out slightly for him to take.

“Keep it.” He offers you a shy smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight!” He hurries away, turning off the light as he goes, leaving you standing in the middle of their living room alone and in the dark.

You hadn’t missed the bright blush on his cheeks, or the way your pulse had quickened at his touch.

-----

It’s a beautiful day. You were worried because the past few days, it had been sweltering hot. The kind of oppressive summer heat that saps your energy and makes you want to do nothing but lay in front of a fan all day. But it’s cooled off some, and there’s a nice breeze going.

You sit on the bank of the river, just close enough to the water where you can feel it lapping at your bare feet, but not close enough to actually get wet. It’s serene sitting there, listening to the birds chirp in the trees and the ducks splashing around in the water. Very different from the seemingly constant chaos that is Yoongi’s bar. Even when it isn’t busy, it’s loud. And while you enjoy the atmosphere, you’re not used to constantly being around that many people. It takes a lot out of you.

Which is why you took the opportunity to come to the river just on the other side of the train tracks to take a break on your day off. Taehyung had followed you, because of course he had. But you don’t mind. You don’t feel the need to entertain him, to constantly be talking with him. You barely have to focus on him. It seems to be enough for him to just exist in each other’s company. It’s nice.

He has his head in your lap, laying perpendicular to you. One of his knees is bent and he has the other one raised and resting against his bent knee, creating a little table for himself as he scribbles in his notebook.

“What are you thinking?” you ask him, reaching down and brushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s grown longer. You wish he would let you give him a haircut.

“Music,” Tae responds simply, his attention flicking to you for the briefest of moments. You can see the playfulness in his eyes, even as he turns his focus back to his notebook. He’s determined to finish that song. “And how I want to marry you.”

He’s been playfully asking you since the second day. At this point, he says it so nonchalantly that you aren’t even phased anymore. You roll your eyes and poke him right in the middle of his forehead.

You brought a book--one of Yoongi’s, he doesn’t mind that you borrow it--and you read while he works, stealing glances at him subtly every once in a while. His concentration face is truly a sight to behold, all focused eyes and set jaw and furrowed brow. Sometimes, he catches you looking and flashes you a confused, boxy grin, which you return. You’re pretty sure he has no idea what he does to you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks softly. When you look down at him, his full attention is on you, his notebook resting face-down against his chest. He fiddles with his pen.

You hum and lean back against the hill, letting the book fall to the ground gently beside you. “Sing me something?”

So he does. He sits up only to fall to the ground again to lay beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He sings of longing, of love lost, and of love yet to be. It’s beautiful and haunting and sad, but there’s a kind of hope in the song, too. When he’s done, he reaches out, hand grasping your own, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while.

Eventually, he shifts beside you and grabs his notebook from where it fell to the ground when he sat up. Smiling, you reach out and brush his hair off his forehead. He glances up at you, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the smile on his lips. His smile is unlike anything you’d ever seen. It’s innocent, and warm, and so unabashedly joyous that it makes you feel like nothing bad can ever happen if he was there.

You’ve never felt like that before.

You’ve been alone for so long--it’s been just you since your parents had passed in your early teens--you barely even recognize how much it sucks. You’ve gotten so used to being alone, you no longer even recognize that you’re lonely. For so long, you’ve forced yourself not to get close to anyone, have focused on taking care of yourself for so long, that you hadn’t even recognized your heart had grown cold. All you’d ever known was how to take care of yourself and get to the next day. And the next one. And the one after that.

You like the warmth he brings you. You like how he makes you feel: as if maybe you don’t have to go it alone. You like that he makes you feel happy.

And you have no idea what to do with that information.

It terrifies you a little. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him for your entire life.

“What are you thinking about?” Tae’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He reaches over and squeezes your hand, fingers slotting between yours. “You look like you're thinking hard about something.”

You hum. There’s no way you can tell him your exact thoughts, you can barely articulate them to yourself. It’s a lot, and you don’t want to scare him away. You want this--whatever this is--to last. So you sigh, and instead of telling him what you want to, you simply say, “Just thinking.”

“Ah.” He nods sagely. “Big thoughts. I get that.” For a moment, he’s quiet, toying with your fingers in the silence. “Can I tell you something?” All of a sudden, he seems nervous. You can feel the anxious energy practically radiating off him. He can’t seem to look you in the eye. His other hand clutches at his notebook.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I just…” Taehyung swallows hard before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I know I can be a lot. I know I daydream a lot, and I get too into my songs, and I have trouble paying attention sometimes when you tell me things. I know I’m weird. So, I guess, just… thank you for wanting to spend time with me.”

You smile gently, feeling your heart soften even more at his vulnerability. “I like spending time with you, Tae,” you say earnestly. And you do. You’ve never enjoyed someone’s company as much as you enjoy his.

“I really do want to marry you,” he confesses softly, his eyes darting out to the river. “I know that’s dumb, but it’s true.”

Two months ago, you would have dismissed him--you had dismissed him--as just being a man looking for one thing. But now that you know Taehyung, well… things are different. “Let’s get through this winter, then we’ll talk.”

“Really?”

“You would have to promise me things, Tae. We both know how rough the world can be. I need to know you’re willing to weather whatever storms come this way.”

He nods eagerly. “I will. You know I will.”

You wrap your arms around him then and pull him to you, his arms immediately slotting around your waist. He’s warm, and despite the fact that it’s sweltering hot out, you’re certain you could stay wrapped up in his arms until you both turn to dust and scatter to the wind.

“Tell me you’ll hold me forever. Tell me that things won’t change when the storms get bad. Promise we’ll stay with each other and it will always be like this.”

You feel him nod against you, feel him hold you tighter. “I will. All of it. More. I promise. It’ll always be like this. You and me.”

When you pull away, his dark eyes are warm and inviting, the small smile on his lips inviting, drawing you in until you’re connected. His kiss is soft, tender, and for a moment, he’s frozen, as if his brain short-circuited and he’s trying to reboot. But then he’s kissing you back, slow and measured. You want to memorize what he feels like in this moment, his hair tickling your face in the light breeze, his hands pressed into your lower back.

His nose brushes against yours as you part. There’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks, and he has the goofiest, most awestruck smile. It makes your stomach do a flip seeing him like that. And in that moment, you know that this adorable man will be the death of you.

-----

You cringe as the door to the apartment slams shut behind you. The wind had kicked up over the past half-hour, and while the door needed some extra force to shut it, you had overestimated just how much extra. Thus, the slam. Normally, Yoongi would have yelled at you, but he’s working double duty at the station because of the storm, making sure that travelers are getting where they want to go in a safe and relatively timely manner.

If Taehyung heard the door slam, he doesn’t seem to care. Though, you doubt that he had heard it at all. Tae had entered a self-imposed sabbatical almost two weeks ago, attempting to finish his song. He seems to have placed an arbitrary deadline on it, and he’s determined to meet that goal.

“How’s it going?” you ask softly, hanging up your coat and scarf on the hook by the door. They were gifts from Yoongi at the start of the winter. Something to help you to survive if you’re going to keep working for him at the bar.

Taehyung doesn’t even look up from his notebook at the sound of your voice. He sits at the small piano in the corner of the living room, brows furrowed, staring at the pages of scribbles he had been working on for the past few days. He’d been in the same place when you’d left for the bar.

You nod, walking into the kitchen and pulling a glass down from the cabinet over the sink. “It’s starting to get bad out there,” you say absently, watching out the window as you fill the glass with water. And it is. You can see the wind blowing snow flurries perpendicular to the ground. Snowing sideways, your mom had called it.

You glance at the cupboards as you walk back into the living room, briefly opening up the refrigerator to check out the situation. “We need food,” you tell Taehyung as you sit the glass of water down beside his piano. “And we’re starting to run low on firewood.” Luckily, Yoongi had stocked the apartment with wood for the fireplace before the storm had gotten too bad, but those supplies are starting to dwindle now that he hardly has time to come home.

“It’s right there,” he mumbles, and though you suspect he’s talking more to himself than to you, you can’t help but respond.

“What?”

“The melody. It’s right there. It’s like it’s just been… forgotten.” He scribbles something more down into his notebook. “That’s why the seasons are all messed up. But it’s right there, just out of reach. It won’t get better until we remember.”

“Then you’d better finish it quick.” You push his hair back and lean in, placing a delicate kiss to his forehead. He hums briefly and squeezes your hand. “I’m going to run out and get some firewood and maybe swing by the pantry to see if I can get some supplies to hold us over until Yoongi comes back.”

But he’s gone again, his attention back to his notebook and the 88 keys in front of him. You sigh and nod, returning to the hook by the door to grab your coat and scarf. You want to have faith in him. You want to believe he’s right, and that the song he’s working on can fix things.

“Okay, you finish it,” you tell him, knowing full well he isn’t paying attention. “I’ll be back soon.”

And so you step back out into the biting wind and freezing cold. You pull your coat tighter, flipping your collar up to attempt to shield your neck from the snow. The public pantry is further away, so you turn in that direction, going mostly on instinct because it’s nearly impossible to see with all the snow that’s falling.

You walk for about 20 minutes before stopping. You should have reached the pantry already. But there’s a large open lot beside it. Yoongi said it was an old field for playing sports--an old football field, he had said, and a baseball field beside it. You know the field is to the left of the pantry, so you turn to the right and begin to walk again, the snow getting tougher to trudge through, and the visibility continues to worsen as you go.

You’re confused. There’s no way you had gotten this far off-track. The town isn’t that difficult to navigate, and you should have come across some building by now, even if it isn’t the communal pantry. Instead, you’re still in the middle of a snow-covered field, the blizzard raging on around you. You turn around in an attempt to follow your steps back in the direction you came.

Unfortunately, your footprints are gone, already covered by the snow.

“You’re resourceful,” a voice behind you says, the howling of the wind calming as if commanded.

You spin around, coming face to face with a young man. He looks to be Taehyung’s age, maybe slightly older, his dark hair neatly styled and combed back off his forehead. He wears a white collared shirt under a smartly tailored suit jacket and a woollen double-breasted coat, a pair of lined leather gloves on his hands.

“Are you lost, little songbird?” His voice is deep and warm, and you find yourself drawn to him, taking a few steps forward. At your silence, he smirks, and you can see the stars dancing in his eyes as dimples press into his cheeks. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“I was trying to get to the pantry,” you manage, taking another step forward. And then another. Until you’re standing directly in front of him.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here.” He pouts, reaching out to rub your arms, creating some friction and heat. His touch isn’t even direct, but you can feel the warmth in him, like he’s made of fire. “You’re going to the pantry? Why?”

“We’re running low on food.”

He hums and nods sagely. “That’s no good. Pretty little songbirds like you don’t deserve to suffer.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words and pray that if he notices you’re flushed, he assumes it’s from the cold. You have no idea why he’s affecting you like this. Normally, you would walk away by now. But something about this man’s aura draws you in.

“I’ve seen you around,” he says, adjusting the hat on your head. It’s Taehyung’s beanie. You borrowed it to keep your ears warm. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Smart. Resourceful. You’d do well as a manager. Have you ever thought of working in a factory or a warehouse?”

“No, I… I’ve never really been one to put down roots.” You have no idea why you’re telling him that.

“Shame. I think you’d be good at it. And it’s a good job, you know? Steady income. Guaranteed housing. Meal vouchers provided by the company.”

“Which company?”

“Mine.” He flashes you a wide smile, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. The sight of it warms you from the inside. “Think about it, okay? When you have nothing to lose, you’ll be welcome.” He digs into his pockets and pulls out a slip of paper. “Take the train to the end of the line. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, the snow and wind pick up so harshly you have to shield your face. When it calms down seconds later, you’re standing in front of the public pantry, and the man is gone.

-----

Two days pass, and you can’t get the beautiful man with the captivating aura out of your head. He hadn’t said much, but he was charismatic, and you couldn’t help but hang on his words. He had said you were smart and resourceful. No one had ever complimented you like that before. It threw you off, but you can’t help but admit that it had made your heart soar a little.

It was nice to feel wanted.

Taehyung is still working on his song when you walk into the living room in the morning. It seems like he never moved. He’s always sitting at the piano, staring at his notebook. Sometimes, he’ll move to the couch, but he never leaves the living room, never looks up from his notebook.

You know his song is important, know he has to finish it to send it off, and truly, you know that when he does, it could save you all, even Yoongi. But at the same time, you have concerns. Things were so different in the summertime. It was supposed to be the two of you: birds of a feather. You were supposed to weather the storms together.

And yet…

You sigh, looking into the cupboards to try to find something small. You’re starving. The pantry wasn’t able to help nearly as much as you hoped, and it’s hard trying to feed both you and Taehyung on the meagre leftovers in Yoongi’s cabinets. You hoped he would’ve been home by now to help--he always seemed to be able to help find food--but the storm hadn’t let up and he’s still out there making sure mail gets delivered and travelers arrive at their destinations safely.

“We’re going to need food again soon.” You say it loud enough that you know he can hear you, but whether it registers or not, you have no idea.

You watch him work, watch as he taps one of the piano keys repeatedly as he thinks, the sharp ‘tink tink tink’ of the note permeating the otherwise silent living room. After a moment, it becomes clear that he didn’t, in fact, heard you, and you feel the annoyance and hurt flare inside you.

You’re angry at yourself most of all. You could have left. You could have gone somewhere else, found a job--a good paying job where the owner wouldn’t forget to pay you because he’s out playing postmaster and barkeep and stationmaster all at the same time--found shelter and food and safety for the winter. But instead, you had followed your heart for once.

And look where that got you.

Your mind drifts once again to the mysterious stranger and his promises. You have no idea if he would keep them, but anything is better than starving to death. You want to stay--it almost physically hurts you to think of leaving--but you can’t ignore the ache in your stomach or the chill in your bones.

“Tae?” you try softly, walking into the living room and stopping in front of the piano. “Taehyung?” Your tone is sharp in an attempt to get his attention. But he doesn’t look up. He simply hums in a brief acknowledgement. “I’m going out.” The words leave your mouth before you even really know what you’re saying. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if.”

He plays another note on the piano.

You turn away, not wanting him to see your heart breaking. As you grab your coat off the hook on the wall, the paper the mysterious stranger had given you flutters to the ground from your pocket. You pick it up and examine it one last time.

It’s gold, but it doesn’t glitter. The writing on it is neat, if a little smudged, as though placed there by an old-fashioned stamper and inkpad.

No charge.

One-way.

VIP.

Your fingers tremble as you stuff the ticket back into your pocket. With one last glance at Taehyung scribbling in his notebook, hair falling into his eyes despite his headband, eyes and jaw set in concentration, you’re gone.

-----

The factory floor is quiet. The only sounds come from the machines. You sit at your workstation, your eyes strained from watching the repetitiveness of the assembly line. You tried to talk to some of your coworkers the other day. Or was it yesterday? Last week? You can’t remember.

It doesn’t matter. None of them answered you, anyway.

Outside, the shift whistle blows, and you stretch your arms above your head, hearing your joints pop and crack from sitting still for the past however many hours. Your shifts always seem to fly, you can hardly remember what you do during them.

However, despite your fast shifts, you aren’t really sure what it is you make. The factory is huge, encompassing at least five huge buildings the lengths of city blocks. The parts you’re responsible for are small, unidentifiable, made out of metal and a bit of plastic. You don’t even know what they are, let alone what they’re used for. But thousands of them pass by you daily as you make sure they sit upright on the conveyor.

You find yourself wandering through the park just outside of your apartment complex. You aren’t quite sure why, but the park always seemed to draw you in. You love the view from the bench in front of the fountain. The way you can see the buildings peeking out over the tops of the trees makes you feel sentimental in the weirdest way, though you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Along the path through the park blooms flowers in the most brilliant shade of red you’ve ever seen. Sometimes, if you look at them too long, you’re overwhelmed by a sense of melancholy, but you have no idea why. You’ve never seen flowers like that in your life.

There are times where, if you close your eyes, you can almost see yourself somewhere warm and bright. Someone is always at your side. You can never quite make out their face, only how your heart speeds up when they look at you. You’d been in the city for months–you can’t remember how many exactly–and these daydreams don’t look like they happen in the city. Maybe they’re premonitions, or some sort of deja vu.

You hope so. Daydream you always seems so happy.

You’re sitting on your bench in the park after your shift one day when you hear someone speak far off behind you. It makes you jump slightly. You haven’t heard someone speak in… the factory foreman had said something recently, but you hadn’t really paid attention to what he said. So when the voice behind you speaks again and comes closer, you turn to investigate.

The man that approaches you is handsome, if not a little eccentric. His shirt is half-tucked into his pants, and the sweater he’s wearing is too big and very thin. His dark hair bounces as he lightly jogs in your direction. As he gets closer, his smile widens, his dark eyes sparkling with joy.

He speaks again, baritone voice soft and full of emotion. It’s a name he’s calling. Is that… your name? How does he know your name?

“I can’t believe I found you!” he says excitedly, his hands capturing your own as soon as he’s close enough. “Yoongi said it could take forever, but I’ve only been down here a few days. I… I can’t believe it’s you!”

He pulls you to him then, arms wrapping around your waist tightly. You’re confused, but you find yourself hugging him back. He feels skinny--too skinny--and his face is a little sunken-in and dirty, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. There’s something about him that’s familiar, but…

“I’m sorry,” you say softly when he pulls away. His eyes dart around your face as he holds you at arm’s length. It’s almost like he’s inspecting you. “I… Do I know you?”

For a moment, his eyes light up and he laughs, a gentle guffaw that pulls at your heartstrings in a way that sets your mind–and pulse–racing. But then, it seems, he realizes you aren’t joking. You watch, unable to do anything as his heart breaks right in front of your eyes.

The way he whispers your name, halfway between a prayer and a plea, convinces you. Even if you don’t know him, he certainly knows you. No one sounds that broken over a complete stranger.

“Who…” you try tentatively. There’s no way this won’t be awkward. But you want to know more about him. You’re oddly drawn to him, like you’d known him in some other life. “Who are you?”

“Taehyung.” His voice is barely audible. His fingers twitch, and you get the sense that he wants to pull you in for a hug again and it’s taking a tremendous effort to not.

Why does his name sound so familiar? You’re certain you’ve never seen him before.

“I can’t leave without you.” He sounds determined, confident, like he’d walked halfway through hell to find you. And, well… perhaps he sort of had.

But that’s crazy. You don’t know him.

“Come home with me,” the man–Taehyung–pleads, reaching for your hand. You let him take it.

“I can’t.” For some reason, it makes you sad. You know it in your gut. Even if you do know him, there’s no way you can leave the city.

“You can, though. I know the way. We just have to go back the way I came down. Yoongi told me about it. I don’t know how he knew, but-”

“You’re not from around here, are you, boy?” You have no idea when the man in front of you appeared. The air smells of ash and sulfur, and all of a sudden, it’s hot.

Immediately, you freeze, and you find yourself squeezing Taehyung’s hand. You haven’t seen the man since you’d signed the contract, but down here, he had a reputation for being no-nonsense. When he’s in a good mood, Namjoon looks harmless. But when he’s angry, he’s downright terrifying. And judging by his set jaw and hard eyes, he’s pretty angry. Beside you, Taehyung stiffens, standing up straighter.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but the little songbird is a law-abiding citizen. You should go back to where you belong.”

“Taehyung, you should go,” you whisper, dropping his hand and taking a step away.

He turns to you, dark eyes sad when they meet yours. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Namjoon laughs, loud and boisterous and dark. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” he asks, taking a step forward. “Don’t you think she would have left already if she could? She signed on the dotted line. She’s here forever now.”

“What?” Taehyung’s attention darts back and forth between you and Namjoon. “That’s not true. Is it?”

You sigh, avoiding his eyes. “I did what I had to.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenches, and he motions for you to head back into the factory. “Heed my advice, boy. It would be in your best interest to leave. I won’t ask twice.”

A swirl of shadow. The smell of sulfur and ash. And Namjoon is gone.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the tension leaves your body. Beside you, Taehyung visibly relaxes before he lowers himself to the ground in a defeated huff. For a second, you watch him, unsure of what to do. You still don’t remember him, but he’d come a long way, and for that, you feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, voice soft.

“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” For the briefest moments, he stares down at his hands, but then he looks at you, dark eyes big and sad. “What happened?”

You shrug, kick at a rock on the ground and watch it skitter across the pavement before you crouch next to him. “I don’t remember,” you admit sadly. “But there’s this contract. I signed it. I… He made such pretty promises.”

You don’t remember what they were, exactly, but you remember the way Namjoon’s eyes glistened as he spoke, the way his dimple pressed into his cheek as he promised you whatever it took to get you here.

Taehyung hums, his head hanging low. “This is my fault.”

Your heart breaks at the sadness in his voice, at how disappointed in himself he sounds. Part of you wants to comfort him, to tell him that no, it’s not his fault. He did his best. This is just a shitty situation and a powerful man chose you to manipulate and deceive. But you don’t. Because you don’t know how true any of that is.

Something inside of you says that it’s not as true as you’d like.

He grows quiet. All you hear is the factories around you. The next shift has started. You should be in there with them. You wonder if anyone has even noticed that you’re missing. Absently, Taehyung picks at the grass, and something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, though it feels almost like it belongs to someone else. Taehyung and you laying in the grass on the bank of a river, the sound of a train in the distance.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, and silently, you nod.

He clears his throat and begins to quietly sing. His voice is beautiful, a delicate baritone that nimbly, delicately touches on each note. He’s in full control, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap, a master at work showing you the melody that lives in his mind.

You can’t deny that the song is beautiful, a haunting acapella that moves you the way a psalm might move a priest. You feel it in your heart more than you hear it, his voice so soft that you really aren’t even sure that you’re hearing it properly at all. It wraps you up, gentle cocoon around your broken heart, and you feel it trying to heal what it finds there. You find something swelling within you. Something akin to pride.

You have no idea why you react this way. But you want to. You want to remember.

“That’s beautiful,” you tell Taehyung when he’s finished. And for a second, he looks at you, a hardness in his eyes that you can only describe as determination.

He leans in, lips gently brushing your forehead, before he stands. “Come with me,” he says cryptically, offering you his hand.

You take it without question.

-----

You’re uneasy. The path is dark--you can barely see Taehyung walking in front of you. He’s just far enough that you can’t reach out and touch him, but close enough that you can easily follow behind. But the soft dirt below your feet muffles your steps as you go, so it’s too quiet. Thus, your unease.

The path is barely wide enough for a person to pass through, and it slopes upward fairly steeply. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking, only that the longer you walk, the lighter you feel. You hadn’t noticed it in the Underworld, but the fog that seems to surround your thoughts and memories parts more and more the closer to the surface you get. By now, you remember almost everything--Yoongi, the bar, your past, everything.

But most of all, you remember Taehyung. And you remember fully why you left.

You want to call him, to tell him that you forgive him, to tell him that you’re so proud of him for finally finishing his song. But you don’t dare. You refuse to do anything to jeopardize your future. Namjoon has given you one chance. You doubt he’d give you a second.

The stones on either side of the path are damp and oddly shaped, and they’re difficult to use as hand-holds when the path gets too steep. But you hang on anyway because the other option is to stumble and fall flat on your face.

In front of you, Taehyung trudges on. You can tell he isn’t happy about the situation just from the visible tension in his back, but there isn’t anything he can do about it. He walks quickly, but not too quick so as not to lose you. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his broad shoulders set against the chill of the underground path.

“Go. Before I change my mind,” Namjoon says, turning his back on you.

You have no idea what Taehyung said to change the man’s mind. Maybe it was his persistence. Maybe you caught Namjoon at a good time. Maybe he just liked Tae’s song. A combination of all of the above and more. None of it at all. But you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“How?” Taehyung asks, his grip on your hand tightening.

Namjoon sighs. “You’ll walk. You know the way well enough to lead, don’t you?” He sounds exhausted. “You lead. She’ll follow. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your eyes on the road ahead. If you don’t, well… maybe it really was her time to go.”

“It’s a trick.” Taehyung sounds angry.

“It’s a trial. One you’ll do well to pass if you want to make it out of here alive.” Namjoon rubs his eyes. “You test my patience. Leave. Or regret it.”

You stumble as the path slopes upwards more steeply, your hand reaching out for the rock. You must have made some sort of noise, because Taehyung pauses. You can see him fighting himself, refusing to turn around.

“Are you okay?” he calls back. When you don’t answer, he grunts but continues walking. “I hope you’re still back there,” he mumbles.

That’s the hardest part about this trek. You can hear him talking to himself. Sometimes, he hums his song, and you can hear the soft echoes off the stones in the passage. But mostly, the long stretches of silence are interrupted by Taehyung’s whispers to himself.

“Only a little further.”

“I hope you’re still back there.”

“Gods, I’m so stupid.”

“Please still be back there.”

Suddenly up ahead, you can see a speck of something bright. It’s only a pin-prick in size, but it grows steadily the more you climb. You find yourself pushing yourself to walk faster, attempting to match Taehyung’s speed as he practically runs up the slope.

And then he stops, and you stop, almost walking straight into his back. The mouth of the cave is just a large hole in the ground, like some gaping maw prepared to swallow someone whole. You recognize the area vaguely as being along the railroad tracks just past the station.

You breathe deeply. The air is still a little frigid, but it has that smell to it, like it could turn warm at any moment. You try to remember what month it was. March? Maybe April? You had gotten on the train in early September. Has it really been six months?

Before you know it, Taehyung’s arms are around you, catching you mid-step and forcing you to take a step backward. You hold him, allowing yourself to get lost in him for a moment. He’s warm, and he smells like dirt and wood and lavender.

“I missed you,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer.

Pulling away slightly, your hands find his face, cupping his jaw tenderly. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly.

Tae hums, offering you a wide, boxy smile. “You’re safe now.” His hands grip your shirt at your waist. “Plus, I’m the one that should be apologizing. I let you down. I got too focused on my song, I forgot why I was in a hurry to finish it in the first place.”

A tug on your ankle draws your attention, and you try to glance down subtly to see what’s happening. But Taehyung’s grip on you is tight, and he notices you shifting. His eyes fall to your feet, one of which is firmly planted on the frozen ground of the mortal world. Your other foot is still in the soft dirt of the path from the Underworld.

Shadows are already starting to creep up your ankle.

“No,” Taehyung says firmly, trying to tug you forward. “No we made it. That’s not fair.”

You shake your head, your foot not budging. “Apparently not.” The shadows slowly grow, engulfing more of your leg.

Taehyung pulls you to him, then, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. “I’ll come find you again. I’ll sing my song for Namjoon. He’ll have to let you go.”

You sigh, your hands balling in the fabric of his jacket. “I love you,” you whisper. And you do. You realized it while climbing out of the Underworld. He’s the one who had been in your daydreams down below, he had been the happiness you had been missing.

He kisses you, then, tenderly but desperately. You let yourself melt into it, one hand finding purchase in his hair. You want to remember him, to commit this moment to your memory so that even when you do inevitably forget him, you’ll remember how he made you feel. The happiness, the joy, the love. Even the frustration. Because of course, that was part of it. You love him so much that you did get frustrated with him.

Your neck is cold, and you know it’s the shadows, swirling and trying to pull you back down. Taehyung’s eyes are wide when he pulls away, and they glisten in the midday sun. He blinks quickly, and you can tell he’s trying not to cry.

“Wait for me?” he asks softly, brushing your hair back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“I always will.”

Taehyung offers you a sad smile just before the shadows overtake you. In a second, he’s standing alone, the smell of ash and sulfur in the air.

26 notes · View notes

casuallyimagining · 24 hours