"Where there is hope, there is always pain."
When you were young, there was one thing you wanted more than anything in the world. One thing you would give your very soul up to achieve, if only it meant you would finally be able to make your mark in...
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You had been thinking of this moment for months.
It would play on the corners of your mind, haunt you every night before you slept, every morning when you woke. There would be moments where you found yourself rehearsing what you would say. Moments where you'd replay it over and over again so that you were sure when you finally came face to face with him, your words would not dry up and leave you speechless.
It has been all you could think about all those times you have passed him in the halls. All you had anticipated every time your eyes caught his, bursting with unspoken things you longed to say.
But now that you're finally here, not even a few feet away from his side, you find all the words you had prepared, all the rehearsals you have painstakingly endured, every scenario, every scene you could have possibly thought up in your mind, have run dry. Leaving you with nothing left to say.
It's infuriating.
Taehyung still remembers the first time he held your hand, the same day he had met you for the first time.
He remembers the way he took it without thinking, almost as an afterthought. A gesture that he must have done millions of times before, but this time, with you, felt as though it was for the first time. He remembers the feeling of electricity that exploded throughout his entire body when his fingertips first brushed past yours. He can still feel the hitch in his throat, and the harsh beating of his heart when they almost instinctively wrapped around his. He remembers the way your hand fit so perfectly between his fingers, the way it felt so natural, so complete.
Almost as though they were created for him to hold.
Back then, it was almost as easy as breathing.
Now, as he looks your way, he doesn't know how to.
He questions whether or not you would accept him if he reached across the car seats, took your hand within his fingers, and held it close. He wonders if this time it would feel as natural as it had on that first meeting, or if it would feel awkward and strange. It frustrates him that something so simple has become so complicated between you. That the distance is not as easy to cross as it was before. That even though you're closer to each other, it couldn't feel more like you were further apart.
So, instead, when he reaches his hand across the way, it is not to take yours within his own. It is to retrieve a paper bag and place it in your lap, without much of a word. He looks away before you can meet his eyes, his ears turning a bit pink at their tips.
"You looked a bit thin."
You turn to the parcel, opening it, and scoffing when you see three carefully wrapped rolls of onigiri sitting at the bottom. Shaking your head, you close the bag, the paper crumbling beneath your hands.
