"don't say you love me like that; like you're saying goodbye."
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in which yoongi and taehyung are ex-lovers who meet once again in tokyo, spending one last night together, learning how to both love and let go.
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a taegi short story; @springbts...
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Taehyung had come up to him after the concert.
It was very much a surprise, the fact that Taehyung himself was waiting for Yoongi backstage, or even that it was Taehyung, and not just a fever dream that Yoongi had thought up of, a hazy product of once too many glances around his previous concerts, always wishing Taehyung would show up, always looking for his ex-lover in every single face.
Yoongi had stood in front of the draped curtains for a little too long after they had closed, had obscured Taehyung from his vision.
He feels his body go numb, feeling drain out of his joints until the stage manager had to usher him down the stairs; even then, Yoongi's legs were stiff and shaky, his steps mechanical like a person suddenly forgetting how to walk.
His mind is settled over by a state of dazed shock, and his thoughts dart like slippery fishes, red-hot and coming in flashes so quick they stumble over one another, thoughts that go was that really Taehyung, was that just my imagination and others that scream turn back, turn back around and find him, make sure he's real, don't let him leave without saying goodbye-
But Yoongi can't, because when he gets off the stage, his mind slowly unfreezing from catatonic shock, slowly starts to melt and recede back to reality in time for him to feel panic shooting up his veins, his professor had intercepted his path, a beaming smile on his proud face.
"Yoongi! Congratulations, my protégé. I knew you'd make it."
The words are genuine, and Yoongi appreciates them from the bottom of his heart, but he can't seem to focus much on what his professor is saying, can't really seem to process anything. He nods absent-mindedly as his professor starts talking about pursuing a Master's at Juilliard and how it would help him gain even more experience, not even listening at this point.
Instead his gaze flickers quickly, tries to discern amongst the small crowd in the backstage area if Taehyung might be here.
And when he can't seem to find any, a flame of blinding panic seems to seize Yoongi's lungs, seems to urge his anxiety on, and time is running out, he thinks, even now Taehyung could be walking out of this building and disappear into Tokyo and they'll never see each other again –
"Sorry to interrupt," a low voice breaks in.
It's smooth, a bit velvety around the low edges, and it sounds so much like the voice in his memories that all air rushes out of Yoongi's lungs on instant.
Real.
He's real, Yoongi thinks, dazed, as he turns towards the sound.
Taehyung stands before them with a bouquet in hand. His gaze drifts slowly, and then settle on Yoongi, eyelashes blinking a little too slow.
