9-Kintsukuroi
"Well, this is unexpected." Seokjin is standing in front of their table in his bustling restaurant wearing a mischievous grin. "What happened to the date? Unless, Taehyung-ah here was the smooth-talker the whole time?"
Yoongi snorts at this, seething into his menu. He cannot believe that he's here, with his nurse, admitting defeat to a man that acts more like Yoongi's mother than his actual mother. It's embarrassing, but he didn't want to stay in that fucking apartment where his date's cologne still lingered in the entrance and small petals still lay on the floor.
Better seething over a good meal than in his lonely bed.
"It's just as well," the chef continues. "Taehyung-ah is handsome and I already approve of him, so..."
Before Yoongi can retort, Taehyung is speaking over him.
"Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to take Yoongi-ssi out for a good time. He deserves it."
Narrowing his eyes, Seokjin looks between the two of them before straightening his chef's uniform. "Well, alright, then let's have a good time tonight, yeah? I promised an amazing dinner and that's what you're going to get."
"I'm excited," the nurse blurts out, buzzing with energy. "I've never eaten in a place like this."
Yoongi really does have to laugh at that. Of course. Taehyung is hardly the type to tie his ratty shoelaces let alone dine in an establishment like this. Although, the man did clean up quite nicely. His outfit is clearly the best and most formal thing he owns, but it looks good on him— it's not the first time that Yoongi has considered Taehyung attractive and it certainly won't be the last.
"Oh?" Seokjin looks proud, standing with his hands on his hips. "Well prepare to be amazed."
"Modest," Yoongi murmurs, seemingly delighting Taehyung with his wit. The nurse giggles and raises a brow at Seokjin.
"You brat," the chef spits, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at Yoongi. "I'm the finest chef in the city. I studied in Europe for three years and you come into my place of business and insult me. How dishonorable."
"Sorry, hyungnim," Yoongi coos, setting down his menu and pouting mockingly. He loves riling the older man up, partially because he actually considers Seokjin like an older brother. "Please, delight us with your culinary skill."
"That's more like it," Seokjin intones despite the jest. "Let me go get the first course. I'll also be selecting your wine for this evening."
Taehyung clears his throat and rubs his neck sheepishly. "Um, I'm good on the wine. I'll have some water or something."
Yoongi arches a brow.
"I don't drink," the nurse clarifies. "But thank you anyway, Seokjin-hyung."
Looking them over, Seokjin nods his head in quiet agreement before he excuses himself to the kitchen. All around them, people chatter and laugh, the sound of their cutlery melding with the cacophony of white noise.
After several minutes of watching the nurse fiddle with the table cloth, Yoongi speaks up. "You're an interesting man, Kim Taehyung." Taehyung looks up at this, his eyes wide in alarm at being addressed. "So, you don't drink?"
"I don't like getting drunk," the nurse admits with a slight color to his cheeks. "I did it once, and it just wasn't fun." He shrugs.
Yoongi hums. "So you were completely sober for the whole fake tattoo thing? You know, the first time?"
"Oh, back in college? Yeah. Completely sober."
"You said it was a bet, right?"
"Uh... yeah."
"You hesitated," Yoongi points out, feeling a sly grin creep across his lips. Perhaps Taehyung willingly put those tattoos all over his body, which, in that case, leaves him open for a little teasing, and after tonight's fiasco at the apartment, Yoongi would love to indulge in that.
The nurse frowns. "So?"
"So was it a bet or not?"
"Kind of?" It comes out as more of a question than anything, but Taehyung quickly backtracks. "Ok, so it wasn't a bet. During residency, there was this little boy in the cancer ward that liked fake tattoos. All of his family members would bring him different tattoos from the places they would visit and he would put them all over him. It really made him happy. Said it made him feel tough during treatment."
Just as the words really begin to sink in for Yoongi, Seokjin appears with a glass of Merlot and some fruit-flavored sparkling water for the nurse. He eyes the tense atmosphere before leaving once more.
Taehyung sips at his drink before continuing, "Well, he got worse— could barely handle the chemo some days and one day, he just refused treatment. I couldn't stand to see him give up like that, so I made a deal with him. If he completed the next week's round of medicine, then I would put as many tattoos as I could find on my body."
Stunned, Yoongi pauses with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. He feels like such an idiot now. This man wasn't some dumb clown ambling through life; he actually cares about his patients, which of course, Yoongi knows, but... "Wow, that's—"
Taehyung looks so vulnerable. "Stupid?"
"No," Yoongi blurts. "That's... nice. Nice of you."
At this, the nurse grins. "Was that a compliment, Yoongi-ssi?"
A few heartbeats and several sips of wine later and Yoongi's tongue is loose enough to reply, "If it was, would you shut up and take it?"
"You're a mean date," Taehyung teases and Yoongi feels his chest tighten at the words. He's reminded of how they got here, what this means and he feels the strongest urge to push back and rejects the nurse's kindness.
Instead, he forces himself to continue with small talk. "So, what happened to the kid?" he questions, "I mean, he obviously held up his part of the deal."
"He did," Taehyung admits before his face falls and he's once again picking at the tablecloth. "I, uh— I wore more tattoos to his funeral. He liked dinosaurs and robots."
Yoongi doesn't know what to say. Taehyung is staring at his hands, his lips pursed in a thin line. There's this urge to comfort the nurse, to tell him that's it's ok, that he did well to be nice to the kid, but the words are caught in Yoongi's throat. He's not used to complimenting people, especially Taehyung, who he has fought tooth and nail with the entire time he has been employed.
Tonight though, is different. Tonight, Yoongi was torn apart by an asshole stranger and Taehyung had been there to put him back together even though Yoongi has done nothing for him.
He feels ashamed for his past rude behavior in this moment, but he doesn't know what to do about it. He could apologize, of course, but that's even harder for him than letting the nurse take him out on an impromptu date.
Date— his brain sings the word.
Is this really a date? Or is just an attempt at consoling his patient as any good caretaker would do?
Better question— Why does Yoongi care?
Taehyung is straight. Taehyung is his employee. Taehyung is—
"Are you ok, Yoongi-ssi?"
Taehyung is asking him a question, his large expressive eyes filled with concern.
"Yeah, I'm just—"
What is he? He isn't necessarily ok, but despite his aversion to the other man, Taehyung's plan is working. This strange, awkward circumstance is infinitely better than staying at home, moping around because some idiot thought Yoongi was beneath him.
"If I had known you were a cripple..."
Shaking the frustrating thought away, Yoongi looks up to find Seokjin bringing their first course, an appetizer dish that is intricately plated and beautiful. He's not quite sure what it is, but the chef explains that it's a French delicacy, one of his favorites, and soon they are enjoying it with eager stomachs.
They remain relatively silent, Yoongi sipping his wine while Taehyung enjoys some of that sparkling water and soon the entree is served, a dish that's more traditionally Asian and just as appealing. When they finish the course, Yoongi finds that he's rather frustrated with the lack of conversation. Thoughts of how nice it is to be here with his nurse begin to creep into his mind and so he must replace them with something else.
"Why did you tell him to leave tonight? You didn't have to stand up for me."
Well, so much for peace.
Taehyung finishes his last bite before placing his chopsticks neatly on the resting dish. "He was being an asshole."
"He was, but I didn't want him for his personality."
The nurse's face darkens at this and he visibly swallows. "He didn't deserve you like that," he admits, gazing up at Yoongi with intensity.
For a moment, it's hard to think, but he manages a reply. "Like what?"
Taehyung flushes crimson and runs his hands over his glass of water. "Like, you know.... intimately."
Yoongi tries to quell a laugh bubbling up in his throat. "You can just say it— he didn't deserve to fuck me."
With a shrug, Taehyung brings his gaze back to his patient. He's trying to remain unaffected, but Yoongi can tell that his words fluster him. "Either way you say it, it's true. He doesn't get to do that after he talked to you that way."
"Since when are you my keeper?" Yoongi questions dryly, but he's very tempted to be amused.
"Since I signed the contract."
"You signed a contract to take care of medically, not emotionally."
Taehyung chuckles at his patient's rationale. "Ok, so medically, he didn't deserve it. He has no idea about your limitations and he doesn't care. What if he hurt you? You wouldn't be able to tell if he was hurting you or not." Yoongi grimaces; he hadn't thought of that. "Not to mention, sex like that isn't— It isn't as good as it could be."
Now this is interesting. The nurse is really blushing now, looking everywhere but directly at Yoongi.
"Oh? And you're an expert?"
Taehyung clears his throat. "I've only ever been with one person, my girlfriend, but when I was with her, all I cared about was what she was feeling, if she felt as good as I did. I just think you deserve the same, that's all."
Yoongi raises his brows, surprised at the blunt answer. He blames the wine for the next words to fly out of his mouth. "So, in your professional opinion, what kind of sex do I deserve, Taehyung-ah?"
It's dangerous, this question, but he's curious about this man with the weird quirks and the gentle tendencies. He's far more curious about Taehyung in this moment than he ever was about his failed date.
It takes a few moments, but the nurse finally responds, and when he does, his words are deep and low, caressing Yoongi's ears.
"You deserve it... gentle. Soft and slow but.... deep. Not really sex but making love."
Making love, Yoongi mouths, feeling the words on his tongue. He's heard of the concept but never entertained the idea. "I can't feel anything down there really," he admits on a whim. "Mainly just pressure. Does that change things?"
Taehyung looks at him then, those dark eyes seemingly peering right into his soul. "Your neck is sensitive," he states, as if it were mere fact. "I've noticed that when I dress or undress you. You touch your pulse a lot. I don't think you realize it, but you do whenever something brushes against it or when I touch your neck. I think you would like being touched there."
Yoongi can only gape in response, so the nurse continues.
"So if you can't feel things like others, then someone should touch you where you can, Yoongi-ssi"
"So my neck? What, they should just touch it?"
Taehyung cocks his head as he considers this and then he's leaning in closer, over their abandoned dinner plates. "They should kiss it," he breathes out. "Lick it. Suck it. Maybe even bite it."
If Yoongi already couldn't feel his legs, he is certain they would've turned to jelly by now. Was this really happening? Were they really doing this right now?
But Taehyung is straight, Yoongi is his employer, his patient—
But Yoongi is also very lonely and Taehyung's voice is so deep and his face so pretty....
"What else?" Yoongi questions, fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass. "My neck can't get all of the attention."
"Your chest." The nurse didn't even hesitate to answer. "They should run their hands over it, feel your muscle, appreciate your strength."
Yoongi's breath catches in his chest. "Just their hands?"
"Their mouth too," Taehyung clarifies. He too, seems affected by this little conversation, voice becoming breathy, skin flushed.... "Brush their lips over your.... nipples."
Yoongi bites his lip. He tastes wine.
"Breathe against your skin."
Yoongi's breath hitches once more, a reply burning on the tip of his tongue, but then Seokjin shows up, depositing their dessert with flourish. The chef smiles warmly at the both of them, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Enjoy your dessert," he drawls, leaving them alone once more.
It's awkward now as they pick up their small forks and begin to dig into the lush chocolate cake in front of them. Yoongi doesn't know what to say, too turned on and confused for any rational thought. The nurse looks just as uncomfortable, and soon they finish the dessert and are thanking Seokjin for a wonderful meal.
Outside in the cool air, Taehyung pushes Yoongi leisurely along the sidewalk filled with pedestrians enjoying their night with laughter and smiles lighting up their faces.
"Where are we going?" Yoongi asks after a few minutes when he notices that they aren't heading back to the parking garage to retrieve the car.
Humming, Taehyung continues to walk them until the busy street gives way and a large open expanse comes into view. "The park," he states, amusement in his tone.
Yoongi furrows his brows and takes in the sight. It's beautiful night, the street lamps casting a warm glow over the grass while couples stroll along, framed by the ever-twinkling lights of the city. If dinner hadn't already felt too familiar, then this certainly felt far more intimate.
"The park?"
"Yeah, it's nice tonight and it's so pretty. I thought you would like it."
"Taehyung," Yoongi sighs, already hating himself for what he's about to ask. "What is... this?"
The nurse ceases their walk and Yoongi stares at Taehyung's shadow on the ground, watching the way the man tenses at the question.
"What do you want it to be?"
Yoongi doesn't know how to answer that, so he merely reaches back to tap Taehyung's hand in an effort to get them moving again.
Soon, the chair begins to creep forward and Yoongi chances a glance at their shadows once more and notes that like this, he can clearly make out the outline of their heads, the rest left to blur and bleed together, and for one moment, Yoongi forgets that he's in a chair, that he can never be what Taehyung or anyone needs.
—————
Yoongi isn't talking much and it worries Taehyung.
The nurse knows he overstepped a boundary earlier in the evening at dinner, but he couldn't stop himself. Hearing his patient degrade himself and reduce his existence down to nothing more than an object really bothered him so he had to say something.
Thinking about the strange man in the apartment foyer, mocking Yoongi, asking if he's good for fucking, had made Taehyung's blood boil in his veins until he could no longer stand by and do nothing.
Because Yoongi is—
Frustrating, complex, and angry, but so very soft, traumatized, and in need of love. He's closed himself off to almost everyone except Jimin and even then, Taehyung can tell that Yoongi struggles with letting his best friend in.
He understands; he really does. For Yoongi, appearing weak emotionally makes him realize just how weak he is physically, so he tries to remain impassive and cold just to keep his head above water. But he's getting tired, Taehyung can tell, and the sight of the man slumped over in his chair sobbing had really driven that point home.
At first, the nurse intended to scold Yoongi for being so careless and not listening to him, for insisting on the date even when the emotional and physical risks were so high. But he's tried anger, disappointment, and frustration and it's gotten them nowhere.
So he's decided on a different approach.
He wants to comfort Yoongi, but now he's confused. Is what he's doing considered friendly support or something else? Why can't he stop running his gaze over Yoongi's outfit, the way his dress shirt clings to his toned upper body or his slacks concealing the soft legs underneath? Why does he like the way the elder eats primly or the way he sips his wine, savoring every taste?
Why does the word beautiful pop into his head when he thinks of this man?
"Taehyung."
Yoongi's voice draws him out of his thoughts and the nurse stops in front a small playground where a young boy is climbing on the play equipment while his father watches on. The child is pulling himself up and over the colorful, curling bars, athletic and lithe. It takes Taehyung a few moments to realize that Yoongi is watching the scene with rapt fascination.
"Appa!" the little boy shrieks when his father starts chasing him, giggling with laughter.
"Come here! I'm going to get you!"
"No, Appa, no!"
More laughter. The wind blows.
"My father used to call me 'Songwol' when I was little," Yoongi says suddenly, his rough voice carried on the breeze. "The hanja for it means 'pine tree' and 'moon'. He said that I reminded him of a forest, simple yet complex. Strong but easily burned down. Even then, he knew that I would end up destroying myself."
Shifting on his feet, Taehyung tries to find the words to reply, but he gets the feeling that it's not necessary. Yoongi seems lost in a trance, watching the family in front of them.
"He would pick me up from school and look me in the eye and say 'Songwol-ah, are you a strong as a tree today? Are you as bright as the moon?' " his patient continues. "I would laugh and say 'Yes, Appa, your son is as strong as a tree, as bright as the moon!' "
Letting out a breath, Taehyung pushes them over to a bench and sits down next to where he placed Yoongi. "What... happened?" he asks.
Yoongi shrugs. "Life happened, I guess. We got rich. We moved. Things changed, as they always do. But it was only when I came out that he really began to resent me. He doesn't use the pet name anymore."
Nodding along, Taehyung plays with the hem of his shirt, finding a loose thread and pulling on it. It's startling that his patient is opening up to him, but it's already been an eventful night. Maybe this was just the sort of catalyst they needed to finally get over their issues. Maybe he needs to be just as forthcoming as Yoongi is attempting to be.
"My father left when I was five, I think," the nurse admits softly. "It was hard on him to live in the country when all he wanted to do was be successful in the big city. My mother and grandmother raised me on their own; I helped with my grandparent's farm growing up."
Even though they are farther away from the playground, Yoongi is still watching the father and son. "Did you ever disappoint them?" He doesn't even look in Taehyung's direction when he asks this.
"No— Not them. But my girlfriend's parents hated me. They thought I was some unmannered farm boy who just wanted to hold their daughter back."
Yoongi hums. "But you were the only one there for her, right?"
"Yeah, I was," Taehyung admits, looking at his patient's profile in the street light. "They didn't want her to get treatment at first. They said that God would save her. They changed their minds the first time she fainted while walking in the middle of a busy street."
A silence falls between them after that, strange but not uncomfortable. After the little boy and his father leave walking hand-in-hand, Yoongi finally looks over towards him. "Our lives are so different," he muses out loud.
Taehyung nods in agreement. They could spend hours unpacking their childhood, their relationship with their families, but he's really only curious about how this man before him came to be this way.
"Yoongi-ssi, about your life before, why did you do it? Being with you now, I just can't see you doing those things— It isn't you."
Yoongi snorts and his eyes crinkle in amusement. "You spend a week with me and you think you know everything."
"I know enough," the nurse counters. "I know that you were forcing yourself to go on this date to prove to yourself that someone can want you. I know that that asshole really hurt your feelings but you're just going to play it off as nothing when tomorrow comes."
Scoffing, Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. "Yeah? Well, I know that you care too much. I don't know if it's just a thing you do with everybody, but you're way too involved in people's emotions and it kind of pisses me off. But if you want to be like this, and you want me to explain my past, then you have to explain yours."
"Ok," Taehyung quickly agrees, not caring in the least how eager he sounds. "Let's do that. You can go first if you want."
Yoongi gives him a dubious look but then he clears his throat. "Well, I guess when I was growing up, I always wanted to please my father. My brother Jun Ki was his favorite— the strong one, the determined one. Everything came so easily to him and I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to hear my father praise me like that. Obviously, things didn't work out that way, but the first time I heard a man praise me for the way my body felt, for how drugged out I was, I felt... good. It felt good to be craved like that. So I kept looking for that feeling in everything, in everyone, and if it hurt my father, then that was even better."
When the nurse doesn't respond right away, Yoongi sighs. "See? I'm fucked up. Happy now?"
"D-Do you find that feeling every time you do stuff like that? Does it work?"
The elder seems off-put by the question, but then he quickly composes himself. "No," he admits coolly, "and now I have nothing left to give, nothing to chase. It's all my fault. I was so stupid for thinking I could fill that hole inside with all that bullshit, but I had nothing better to do. Didn't think I could feel any worse about myself."
There's a weight to those words, a weight in Yoongi's gaze as he looks down at his legs and Taehyung doesn't even have to ask the question burning on the tip of his tongue before his patient is speaking again.
"The night of the accident... I let these three guys fuck me. They were hot, I wanted it, but when they didn't even prep me, I didn't say anything. When they convinced me to snort three lines of blow off a toilet lid, I didn't say anything, and when they were coming all over my face, laughing like fucking hyenas, it was like I had finally woken up from a long dream. It was like I couldn't even bear to live with myself after the realization of what I had become."
Taehyung swallows hard. His patient won't look at him. "D-Did you—"
"I knew I was high as fuck but I still got in the car," Yoongi blurts out. His hands grip the armrests of his chair. "After that, I don't remember anything."
There are so many questions the nurse could ask, so many inquiries about Yoongi's family relationships, about whether or not Jimin ever offered to help him during these rough times, but none of those cling to his tongue.
No, he can only think of one thing.
"Did you want to die?"
The question has Yoongi snapping his head up and eyeing Taehyung with uncertainty.
Then, like magic, he replies.
"I don't think I cared either way, but if it happened, then I was prepared for that. I think it was my way of tempting fate, you know? I just didn't think I would end up like this, which is somehow.... worse."
Taehyung lets out a breath. His heart begins to race, his mind filling with thought after thought until he has to squeeze his eyes shut and rub at his temples.
"You must think I'm such a whiny bitch right now," Yoongi muses dryly. "You lost someone you love and I couldn't get my shit together enough to want to live."
It takes everything within him to answer, but after several stuttering heartbeats, the nurse finally does. "No, I understand, Yoongi-ssi."
Yoongi scoffs. Taehyung opens his eyes to see the man judging him, his lips curled up in the beginnings of distaste. "Right. Sure you do."
Another deep breath and then Taehyung just dives right into it.
"I went home to rest one day," he begins slowly. "The tiny couch in that hospital room was killing my back and I reasoned that I could be gone for one day. Just one day. When I finally woke up, I had thirty missed calls, all from the hospital. She asked for me, when her heartbeat started slowing. She asked for me and I wasn't there."
"Shit, Taehyung—"
"She died while I had been sleeping. After that, her parents banned me from the funeral and from having any contact with her family. I didn't even get to say goodbye."
It's hard to tell someone this. The only people who had ever known about his trauma were his mother and grandparents, but Taehyung had spared them many details, like the one he opens his mouth now to share.
"There are these train tracks out on the outskirts of town," he explains, sitting on his shaking hands. "The day of her funeral, I just stayed in my room and cried, but before sunset, I walked out to those tracks. I laid down on them, in the snow, and I put my face right on the metal and I just— waited. I waited for three hours for it to happen and when it didn't, I went home. Months later, I found out that those tracks were recently put out of service and I had been waiting for nothing."
Like a mirror, Yoongi's question reflects back at him. "Did you want to die?"
"At that moment.... yes."
Yoongi breathes out slowly through his nose and curses. He looks the nurse over and swallows visibly. "And now?"
"I can't," Taehyung admits, tears stinging the corner of his eyes. "Because that's such a cowardly thing to do. What would she think of me? To her, I was so strong, so comforting, and now—"
"Is that why you care so much about me?" Yoongi questions, eyes wide. "Because you want to make it up to her?"
Taehyung feels his chest constrict at the question. "Yes," he partially lies, because while Yoongi had guessed correctly, he truly had no idea. No idea that Taehyung is really looking at him now, with his delicate features, his dark, defiant eyes, and his soul so open and calling out to the nurse in the sweetest way.
Yoongi has no idea that Taehyung sees someone else when he looks at him, and yet, sometimes, he sees another person entirely. Sometimes he sees just Yoongi but the feeling is still there, this feeling of protectiveness, of concern. This need, deeply rooted and growing inside of him with every bat of Yoongi's long lashes and every satoori-laced syllable falling from his mouth.
"Is your past why you fight me so much, because you don't want anyone to care for you because you think you're not worth it? That you don't deserve it?" Taehyung dares to question.
Amazingly, his patient is quick to answer, still staring at him in bewilderment. "Yes," he admits. "So, is this when you say something to change my mind? Where you tell me all the great qualities I possess and I have some great epiphany that I'm the one I should truly love and that's all I need?"
"Is this where you tell me that it's not my fault, that there was nothing I could do to save her and that I shouldn't feel guilty for living while she never had the choice?" the nurse fires back, but none of the words have any spark behind them.
They fall into silence, staring at each other. None of those questions get answered. He has a feeling that neither of them have the answers anyway.
"I never thanked you for helping me when I fell in the bathroom," Yoongi says after awhile, "so.... thank you."
Stunned, Taehyung simply hums under his breath in acknowledgement. It's only when they are walking along the sidewalk again, strolling towards the booths of street foods and trinkets near the heart of the city that the nurse dares to speak again. This is something that has been pressing on his mind lately, and after their long talk, he thinks it's appropriate.
"Can we be friends, Yoongi-ssi?"
Yoongi doesn't reply right away, still staring out at the path in front of them, and then he says, "Hyung."
"What?"
"Call me Hyung," Yoongi breathes out.
Taehyung smiles, the earlier established heaviness instantly dissipating. He doesn't know why, but the sheer thought of dropping formal speech with his patient makes him nearly giddy.
"Hyung," he tries, loving the word as if it were brand new, "do you want to get some snacks?"
"Sure."
They find themselves drifting from vendor to vendor, eyeing several variations of noodles and kimbap, but they are still fairly full from dinner, so they wait for lighter fare. Taehyung really just wants something sweet, something—
"Oh my god," he exclaims suddenly, his eyes finding the absolute holy grail candy of his childhood. The ahjumma running the small booth giggles at his reaction. She picks up a packet of the candy and smiles.
"Do you like this foreign candy?"
Taehyung really doesn't need to reply; his enthusiasm says it all. He practically runs both he and Yoongi over to the woman and pulls out his wallet. "Hyung, you have to try this candy," he insists, motioning for the woman to give them two packets. "It's so good and fun!"
"Fun?" Yoongi is staring at the nurse with wide eyes; he looks slightly scared at Taehyung's sudden mood shift.
Once he has the candy in hand, Taehyung pushes them over to a plastic table by another vendor. He rolls Yoongi up to it and takes the seat opposite him. "Yes, Hyung, fun! I know you're not exactly familiar with the idea—"
A sudden playful slap to his shoulder has Taehyung pausing in awe.
"Brat," Yoongi teases, rolling his eyes. He's trying hard to look annoyed, but the nurse can see the smile quirking on his lips.
Wiggling the packets, Taehyung grins right back. "Hey, don't call me a brat until you try it."
"If I do, will it calm you down?" Yoongi retorts, snatching a packet. "You're practically vibrating through the table and I'm not used to it."
Gaping, Taehyung takes a moment to assess his behavior. He is quite excited; his hands are thrumming along the table and his legs are bouncing up and down. He is grinning so widely that his mouth is starting to hurt, but he can't stop. He's just so happy that he's here with a Yoongi, allowed to all him 'Hyung', and now he's found his favorite candy....
Why shouldn't he be happy? It's been so long since he's felt like this, like himself. Tonight may have started off really shitty, but it's quickly becoming one of his best days on the job.
"What the fuck is this?" Yoongi asks suddenly. He has opened the candy packet and is squinting into it.
Taehyung hums. "It's called popping rocks or something," he explains, pointing to the English on the package. "I had a foreign classmate who used to bring these to school all the time. I love it so much."
"Does it actually pop?" Yoongi shakes the packet, scrutinizing it.
Opening his own packet, Taehyung nods. "Yeah, the little pieces fizzle in your mouth, kind of like soda."
"Hmm." Yoongi shakes the candy again and much to the nurse's horror, proceeds to empty the entire packet right into his mouth.
"Hyung! No!"
But it's too late— Yoongi is wide-eyed and sputtering, a cherry-flavored foam bubbling from his mouth as he coughs. Taehyung knows he should panic for the safety of his patient, but the situation is just so hilarious. Yoongi— the usually composed, cold man— is spitting up between slurred curses as the overload of candy fizzles too intensely for him to handle.
"Mae-hug!" the elder is trying to say his name, "Belp!"
Stifling his gut-twisting laughter, Taehyung stumbles from the table and over to a vendor. The man doesn't have any water, just soju, so that will have to work. As soon as the nurse places the green tinted bottle on the table, Yoongi guzzles it down.
"Soju?" he practically whines after his mouth is clear. "Fucking soju? Really, Tae-yah?"
Taehyung is cackling now, taking in the sight of his patient with traces of red foam clinging to his mouth while his eyes water. His hair is mussed up, his shirt ruined, but perhaps the best thing: Yoongi is smiling, a genuine gummy smile and his eyes crinkle up as he begins to laugh too.
"Fucking soju," his patient breathes out again, incredulous. "Taehyung, you're trying to kill me."
Laughing, the nurse digs some napkins out of the dispenser on the table and leans over. Yoongi looks at him like he's insane, but Taehyung just keeps giggling while he wipes his patient's mouth off. "There," he says. "Hyung is all pretty again."
It could be the lighting, but he swears that Yoongi blushes.
After that, things grow more comfortable, lubricated by the hilarious moment and maybe a bottle of soju for Yoongi. They decide to head back the way they came to retrieve the car from the parking garage near Seokjin's restaurant, but as they walk through the park once more, Taehyung gets an idea. He eyes a large grassy hill, illuminated by lampposts and moonlight.
"Hyung, let's race down that hill!"
Yoongi turns his head to look up at the nurse with disbelieving eyes. "My legs don't work, you fucker," he deadpans.
For some reason, Taehyung finds this hilarious. He giggles and giggles and he notices that his patient is trying to stifle in his own laughter by covering his mouth.
Taehyung feels high off that voice, off the way Yoongi laughs so heartily in his presence. It's strangely addicting. "I know that, Hyung! I meant that you can go down the sidewalk and I'll go down the hill. First one to the bottom wins."
"You're fucking crazy," Yoongi retorts, shaking his head.
Smiling, the nurse leans in. "No, I think I'm drunk."
"You didn't even drink, Tae-yah."
"No, off you," Taehyung clarifies before his brain can stop him. Yoongi furrows his brows at the statement. "I'm drunk off you, hyung."
The nurse feels the weight of his words in the cool night air; sees them in the way Yoongi sucks in a deep breath and blushes. The man actually blushes and all Taehyung can focus on in this moment is how the moonlight makes that blush so beautiful, so—
"L-Let's race," Yoongi blurts out suddenly, moving towards the sidewalk. "Loser pays for takeout tomorrow."
"Deal."
In the blink of an eye, they're off, racing in their respective lanes.
Taehyung blurs down the hill, careful not to move his feet too quickly for his mind to catch up, and he chances a glance at Yoongi who is coasting down the sidewalk with strong arms pushing his wheels. They're nearly even with the nurse gaining momentum by the second. Just as they near the finish, however, Taehyung hears a startled cry just in time to watch Yoongi fly out of his chair and land in the grass several feet away. His wheelchair is hung up on a crack in the sidewalk.
With panic quickly consuming him, the nurse dashes towards his patient to find Yoongi slumped over on his stomach, his limp legs splayed out beneath him.
"Hyung! Hyung! Are you ok? Shit, are you—"
A sudden roiling laughter spills out from Yoongi, shaking his chest. Scared, Taehyung gently turns him over until Yoongi is staring up at him with grass sticking to his face and his cheeks glowing red.
"I win," the man states proudly, that little gummy grin coming out to play and Taehyung is—
Taehyung is staring down at him in wonder. Yoongi is so amazing, so full of life. His soft face is glowing with amusement, his dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. His lips are still encrusted with a little leftover candy foam, but he's so beautiful in this moment.
"...one day I looked at a boy and I realized that I really wanted to kiss him."
He recalls Yoongi's words about the discovery of his sexuality and Taehyung finally understands. He may not act on it, but he understands how one can look at someone so similar to them and be enthralled by the subtleties of their face, the life in their eyes, the purse of their lips...
It's then that he really thinks about how different they are, what makes them so unique.
If Yoongi is anything like this hour— nearly eleven at night— then he's like lying in bed with existential questions, soft blankets, and oversized pajamas. Scented candles and stargazing. Long playlists and rain drumming on the window pane. He's the glow of the street lamps coming in waves on a night bus ride; he's the hum of fluorescents above you as you buy a snack at the twenty-four convenience store.
Taehyung, on the other hand, is like one in the afternoon— fuzzy socks, watering indoor plants. Dancing around the kitchen to the radio while cookies bake in the oven. He's a glass of sweet fruit juice nestled up on the couch, strong sunlight pouring in through large windows. He's a handful of flowers from a garden, paint stains on clothes.
At least, he used to be.
He could be like that again with Yoongi, he thinks.
"Ow." His patient winces when he tries to use his torso to sit up.
This instantly sobers Taehyung and he reaches out to comfort the elder. "Hyung, are you ok? Where does it hurt? Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine, just sore," Yoongi assures, still breathless and smiling. "The grass helped cushion my fall. Fuck, I think you owe me more than shitty takeout food."
"I give good back massages," Taehyung blurts out, eager to console his patient, but then Yoongi is looking at him in a way that the nurse understands far too intimately.
"I give good back massages."
Yoonji snorts, looking over from the passenger seat. "Tae, boys only offer that when they want something else."
"Oh? And what do you think I really want?"
Biting her lip, Yoonji blushes. Her small hands play with the hem of her uniform skirt. "How about we find out?"
"Fuck," Yoongi breathes out. "I might actually take you up on that offer, but how do I know you're not shit at giving massages and are going to fuck my back up further?"
"Guess you'll have to find out," Taehyung teases.
There's a mirth in Yoongi's gaze, dancing in the darkness there. He eyes the nurse, their close proximity, and then he's smirking.
"Yeah, how about you take me home and we find out."
Biting his lip, Taehyung can't help but feel excited at the familiarity in those words.
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