She's an American songwriter living in South Korea. He's one of the biggest idols on Earth. When they meet, sparks fly - but can they overcome past traumas, and find a happy ending?
A Kim Taehyung fanfic.
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Tae and I are out for a relaxing Friday evening drive along the coastal highway, just for some fresh air and a change of scenery, when our playlist gets interrupted by a text notification on his phone. He pushes the text-to-voice button, and the computer lady's robotic-sounding voice tells us, "From: BTS Kim Namjoon-hyung. Everyone, Jin hyung hurt his finger and had to have surgery today. He will stay the night in the hospital and then go home tomorrow. Stay safe and well, see you tomorrow."
We glance at each other, wide-eyed. "Oh, shit!" Tae says. "We should take him some fruit tomorrow."
I nod. "It's only, mmm, two weeks until the Grammys? Is he going to be healed by then?"
"I don't know. He might have to sit on a chair again. That happened to him once before." He sighs heavily.
"Ugh, that sucks. Poor Seokjin-shi!"
Tae drives in silence for a few minutes. "Birdie, are you sure you don't want to come to the Grammys ceremony? I would be happy if I knew you were there."
I sigh. "I am still afraid of how I would react if you guys get robbed again, love. I don't want to end up in prison for beating up Recording Academy officials. I was literally seeing red and wanted to stab somebody after last time! You guys took it so much better than I did, at least in public!" I laugh.
"Yeah, we were disappointed, but not surprised. It's kind of rigged, I think."
"It is, and I hate that. I don't think of the US as being corrupt, usually, but the Grammys are really corrupt. It makes me stabby." I look over at his profile. "Those bullshit changes they made to voting, just to get ARMY off their backs, aren't really going to change anything," I growl. "Babe, if they rob you guys again, you should just not submit any songs for consideration next year. You should have a concert somewhere in the US at the same time as the Grammys, broadcast on a rival US network, and see which event draws higher viewer ratings. Because fuck the Academy." I can feel my chin jutting out.
Tae laughs, then reaches over and squeezes my leg. "I love you! But I don't think we'll be able to do that, because the hyungs might be in the military then. It would be funny, though!" He chuckles again.
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On Wednesday, just five days later, I walk back into the studio after a meeting with the song-writing team that is working on the English portions of one of Jimin's solo songs. I'm startled to see Tae sitting at his desk - he has been so busy lately that he's rarely there, and I have almost started to think of it as my studio.
"Hello, stranger!" I say, cheerfully. He turns his chair around and smiles at me, but his eyes look worried. I raise my eyebrows. "What's up?"
"Hobi-hyung just tested positive for corona."
"Oh, shit." I do some mental math. "Well, it's ten... eleven days until the Grammys? He'll probably be OK by then, right? He's fully vaccinated." I grimace at him uncertainly. "Do you guys already have the choreo nailed down, babe?"
