Taehyung’s eyes slowly trail after as Namjoon makes his way through the doorway of their shared closet. He watches silently as Namjoon shirks off his suit jacket none too gently, tossing it off to the side before yanking off his tie and working his way down the buttons of his collared shirt.

The muscles of Namjoon’s shoulders look tense, tired. And Taehyung wishes for nothing more than to be able to cross the short distance between the bed he’s sitting on and the closet in which Namjoon is now unbuckling his belt, but he can’t.

Taehyung’s fingers itch to gently push Namjoon down onto their bed so that he could sooth away the kinks in the taller man’s muscles, but he won’t. Instead, his fingers twist around themselves in his lap, clawing away at the skin of his own knuckles. And Taehyung can’t seem to find the courage to do anything other than stare with his lips squeezed shut.

The breadth of space between them seems to be further apart than the expanse of the Pacific Ocean. And the isolation is stifling.

Taehyung doesn’t really remember when or how it even started, the ever growing distance between them. But before he knew it, Namjoon had begun to drift away, locking him out in an unbearable, suffocating silence that he can’t seem to break away from.

Taehyung doesn’t know what he did wrong to push Namjoon away like this, to force the one he loves most to spend longer and ever growing longer hours in the office, instead of in the comfort of their own home. The empty chair at the dinner table, the unanswered messages and phone calls, the cold sheet beside him as he lies and stares blankly up at the ceiling. Taehyung wishes he could somehow fix whatever went wrong here, to take away this overbearing silence that had somehow settled into the atmosphere.

The frigid chill of loneliness wraps around Taehyung’s heart like a layer of ice, the jagged edges pricking inside his chest with sharp pains of regret and heartache.

Namjoon shuffles out of the closet in nothing but his boxers, feet dragging along the carpet as he doesn’t even spare Taehyung a glance before heading into the bathroom. Namjoon gently eases the door shut. But that simple click seems to ring loudly in Taehyung’s ears like the blast of a gunfire.

I made dinner for you.

Taehyung’s lips open and close to form the vowels and consonants of the words that simply die in his throat. A retched, bitter lump catches there, festering like an open wound. Doubt seeps into the cracks and crevices of his mind like a poison, slowly spreading until there’s nothing left but all of his fears and insecurities laid bare for him to see.

Am I invisible?

The muted rush of water running through the pipes is barely audible through the wall and plaster. But the sound is soothing, nevertheless. It eases some of the tension seizing his muscles as Taehyung finally rises from the bed, stumbling onto shaky legs that had fallen asleep from sitting too long. His fingertips trail along the wall as he fills in the space Namjoon had previously occupied. Crouching down in the middle of the closet, Taehyung slowly, hesitantly, gathers the clothes Namjoon had abandoned on the floor.

He buries his nose into the bundle of clothing piled into his arms, a light whiff of Namjoon’s cologne invading his senses. Tears prick the corners of his eyes, threatening to burn through his defenses.

I love you so much.

Can you hear me?

I’m still here.

Why don’t you see me?

--

Jimin’s lips press into a thin line, anger bubbling hot and heavy just beneath the surface of his skin as he stares down at the lump of blankets that adamantly refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Taehyung had been moping, for lack of a better word. And Jimin is absolutely tired of watching his best friend pine and wither away for someone who cannot even have the decency to treat him like an equal human being.

Squaring his shoulders, Jimin gently places the carrier of coffee he’d brought on the dresser and marches over to the bed where the lump still remains motionless.

“Time to get up,” Jimin sings, grasping the edge of the comforter and giving an almighty tug. “Up!”

Taehyung flinches away from the sunlight pouring in through the window, curling into a fetal position with a pillow tucked against his chest.

“It’s one in the afternoon, and you’ve been hiding out in this room for way too long,” Jimin drops the blanket on the floor before settling on the edge of the bed, giving Taehyung’s thigh a hearty pat. “Come on, get your lazy up!”

A noise gurgles in the back of Taehyung’s throat that sounds like a cross between a choke and a whine.

“Up, up, up!” Jimin nudges Taehyung on the side. And when he still refuses to budge, Jimin breathes heavily through his nose and proceeds to grab Taehyung by the wrists, forcing him up into a seated position.

Taehyung emits an incoherent mumble, releasing his entire weight in the hopes that Jimin give up and leave him alone to melt into his mattress.

There are no reasons for him to face the world, not when Namjoon is avoiding him like the Black Plague. And with that depressing thought weighing heavily in his mind, Taehyung places a well-aimed foot right in the middle of Jimin’s stomach, and shoves.

“What the,” Jimin squeals, landing on the floor with a thump.

Sighing in satisfaction, Taehyung once again curls himself around Namjoon’s pillow, wishing Jimin hadn’t taken his blanket away.

“You ,” Jimin grunts, crawling back over the edge of the bed onto his elbows. He shoots Taehyung’s back the dirtiest look he can muster, baring his teeth like an angry wolf.

But Taehyung ignore him, and Jimin’s shoulders deflate.

Taehyung thinks maybe Jimin will finally leave him alone. And a slight stirring of guilt bubbles in the bottom of his gut, but nothing really matters anymore. Jimin shouldn’t waste any more time on him, because there’s nothing left for Taehyung to live for.

“This isn’t the end of your life,” Jimin’s voice is soft, just barely audible. But it rings loud and clear in Taehyung’s ears. “It may feel like your whole world is falling apart, but you will get through this. You’ll live.”

“How do you know?” Taehyung replies, voice scratchy and rough from prolonged disuse. His eyes are still shut, but it doesn’t do anything to block out the pain still aching in his chest.

There’s a rustle of clothes and moving limbs, and Taehyung feels the mattress dip as Jimin settles back down on the bed beside him. A comforting hand combs through his wild disarray of bed hair, and Taehyung keens into the touch.

He misses this, longs for the attention he’s so deprived of.

Jimin sighs heavily, gently scratching at Taehyung’s scalp.

Stark silence stretches out around them, the only sound the ticking of the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. And just when Taehyung is about to slip back under the blanket of unconsciousness, Jimin’s voice shatters the calm, reeling him back out into the world of pain and reality.

“You know what? I bet that no good piece of scum is cheating,” Jimin suddenly shoots up onto his feet, fists clenched. Taehyung finally opens his eyes, blinking blearily in his best friend’s direction. There’s a look of disbelief wrinkling his forehead. And Jimin s a finger pointing to his chest.

This is so absurd.

“You said he’s been staying late at the office a lot recently, right?” Jimin questions, raising a brow. Taehyung releases his chokehold on Namjoon’s pillow, rolling onto his side and gazing up into the look of resolution set in Jimin’s face.

“Yeah sure,” Taehyung decides to humor him, shrugging his shoulders. He has nothing left to lose.

“And he’s been keeping his computer locked, and staring at his phone all the time,” Jimin continues, still pointing at Taehyung’s chest.

Dragging his body up and slouching with the pillow stuffed between his knees, Taehyung slowly nods.

“And he gets defensive when you ask questions,” Jimin asks, lowering his hand. And images of petty arguments and Namjoon avoiding his eyes floods Taehyung’s mind. The locked office door, constantly shielding his phone away from Taehyung’s line of sight, that inexplicable tingling feeling down his spine that Namjoon is keeping something from him.

“Maybe,” Taehyung whispers, logic fighting against his heart that refuses to believe Namjoon would ever betray his trust like this.

“He’s cheating,” Jimin nods solemnly, watching Taehyung’s expression with wary eyes as if his best friend might spontaneously implode.

“He wouldn’t,” Taehyung mouths, staring into Jimin’s eyes desperately, imploring him to stop. Please don’t do this.

“That pig is cheating,” Jimin grits through his teeth, fist smacking into the palm of his hand, not even realizing that Taehyung’s entire world is crumbling down around him until there is nothing left but the dust floating away with the wind.

Taehyung didn’t even know there was anything left of him to break. He buries his face in his hands, the beginnings of a pounding migraine starting to drill behind his temples.

“And we’re going to catch him,” Jimin smiles grimly, fists hanging by his sides. Taehyung breathes heavily into the palms of his hands, trying to fight away the hyperventilation threatening to seize his lungs.

“What?” Taehyung’s voice is faint, even to his own ears.

“We’ll catch him at it,” Jimin repeats, spinning on his heels and making for the coffee still sitting on the dresser. Pulling both cups out of the holder, Jimin returns and plops back down on the edge of the bed.

“Here, drink this,” Jimin offers Taehyung one of the paper cups. Lifting his head, Taehyung accepts the paper cup Jimin sets into his hands.

The lukewarm coffee leaves a bitter aftertaste as it washes down into his empty stomach. But it’s nothing compared to the acidic tang of loneliness that has permanently lodged itself inside his throat.

He doesn’t want to believe that the reason Namjoon has been neglecting him is because he’d found someone else. But Jimin’s reasoning sounds so very plausible and logical, despite Taehyung’s unwillingness to accept it.

Taehyung tries to take another sip of the coffee, but his shaking hands keep jerking the cup away from his mouth. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying, shoulders wracking with hysterical sobs, until Jimin pulls him into his chest, rubbing soothingly up and down his back.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jimin whispers, tucking his chin over the top of Taehyung’s head. “Let it all out. I’m here for you.”

And Taehyung does exactly that, sobbing and shedding tears until a giant patch is soaked into the chest of Jimin’s shirt. He cries until his throat runs dry, breaths shivering and intermittent hiccups punctuating the silence.

“We’ll get him back,” Jimin gently pushes Taehyung back, wiping away the salty tear tracks with his thumb.

“How?” Taehyung hiccups, rubbing his eyes with the backs of hand.

“So this is what we’ll do,” Jimin begins, a scheming look sparking in his eyes.

Taehyung doesn’t really think he even wants to know. But maybe this is the closure he needs. So he listens.

--

The world outside is velvety black, not a single cloud marring the clear skies dotted with millions of stars shining brightly around a crescent moon.

All the office buildings have shut down hours ago, the streets completely empty save for the lone taxicab that motors on by in intervals, keeping an eye out for any potential late night passengers.

And hidden in the shadows, another car is parked in the corner nearby a closed café, across the street from a tall building labeled BigHit in gleaming gold letters.

The office where Namjoon works.

“This is so ridiculous,” Taehyung slides down the passenger seat of Jimin’s car, nervously pressing down on the black cap lower to cover his face.

“It’s eleven thirty-five,” Jimin mutters, leaning against his window and squinting out into the night. “Seriously, how long does he even stay in his office?”

“I must be out of my mind,” Taehyung whimpers to himself, sliding down impossibly lower. “I must’ve completely lost it.”

Taehyung is starting to regret ever following Jimin out of the house when a startled yelp breaks the silence.

“There’s his car,” Jimin hisses, pointing towards a silver Lexus pulling out of the parking across the street.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung whines, closing his eyes and hoping this is all some bizarre nightmare that will disappear once he wakes up. He feels the engine rev below his seat. And once Namjoon’s car is given a good head start, Jimin proceeds to follow without turning on his headlights in case they are given away.

Taehyung keeps his eyes closed the entire way, questions and doubts flitting around his head of which there are no answers.

“Where the hell is he going?” Jimin mutters to himself after what seems to be an eternity later. “Suburbs? Who the hell even lives out here? Damn this is a nice neighborhood.”

Taehyung dry sobs into the sleeve of his black hoodie, wondering when this horror show will end. The car finally slows down, until it comes to a complete halt.

“Oh damn, that is a very nice house,” Jimin whistles in awe, and Taehyung is afraid to look. “Man, whoever lives here has got to be loaded.”

“Jimin please,” Taehyung begs, wondering to what extent his sanity can be pushed before he finally breaks.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin backs off, shutting his mouth. The following silence does nothing to calm Taehyung’s jittering nerves, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding in his chest.

Does he really want to do this?

What would it prove?

What would he gain from all this, except more heartache and pain?

“’If you’re not ready,” Jimin’s words trail off, giving Taehyung’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. And Taehyung finally opens his eyes.

“No, I’m ready,” Taehyung breathes, trying to clear the maelstrom of thoughts swirling through his mind.

It’s now or never.

“I’ll be right here,” Jimin reassures with another squeeze. And biting down on his lip, Taehyung nods.

Now or never.

Pulling his cap off and handing it to Jimin, Taehyung grasps the door handle with shaking fingers, slowly clicking it open to a rush of the cool, evening air that fans out against his cheeks, helping him regain some of his composure.

He steps out into the dark of the night, soles of his shoes hitting gravel as he quietly shuts the door.

The house really is something to behold, with an expanse of lush green lawn leading up to a perfect white porch framed at either end by gorgeous columns supporting a steeply built roofline with many gables in a beautiful Victorian style. It’s too dark to see clearly, but Taehyung knows the house must be extremely expensive.

His feet hit pavement, and the first thing that catches his attention is Namjoon’s car sitting on the driveway. And Taehyung’s stomach plummets.

Whoever lives here, how could he ever even hope to compete?

Stop it.

Taehyung gives his head a violent shake, reminding himself he’s not here to fight. He’s not here to win anybody back. He’s here for answers. Closure.

And with that thought giving him strength, he crosses the short pathway that crosses between the dewy lawn sparkling under the moonlight, shooting a brief glance behind his shoulder at Jimin’s car for courage, to know that someone is here to support him, and he gives the lacquered wooden door three sharp raps.

His heart seems to be fighting to rip through his ribcage, the seconds seeming to stretch out into hours. Everything is completely silent, and Taehyung considers turning back when the porch light switches on and the doorknob begins to turn.

To say the least, the look of utter shock on Namjoon’s face confirms every one of Taehyung’s fears and suspicions. And Taehyung feels gravity pulling him down to the ground, when a strong arm wraps around his waist, keeping him up.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon asks, the look of surprise still etched on his face.

“I could ask the same to you,” Taehyung replies, voice strong despite the shaking of his hands and shockingly paled cheeks. “What are you even doing out here?”

Namjoon sighs, straightening Taehyung out and holding his hand firmly in case he loses his footing again.

Taehyung wants to wrench his hand away, but Namjoon’s touch is warm, soft, comforting. And he just can’t find the strength to do so.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Namjoon suggests, gesturing his other hand inside the house.

“What?” Taehyung’s voice is filled with surprise, eyebrows shooting up behind his fringe. “You want me to step foot inside your- your love nest with some other-“

“Love nest?” Namjoon cuts him off, staring at Taehyung with a strange look. “You think I’m seeing someone else?”

Taehyung blinks, mouth opening and closing silently like a fish out of water.

“Well, then what else could it be?!” Taehyung’s voice begins to escalate with every word, all the repressed feelings of abandonment and confusion and despair pouring out through every pore in his being. “You ignore me. And you don’t come home at night. And when you do, you don’t even so much as look at me. You don’t talk to me. You don’t touch me. You’re keeping secrets, I can feel it! If you aren’t hiding some other lover out here, then what is it?! Please, enlighten me because I’ve just about had it up to here with your lies! What?!” Taehyung’s voice is shrill, agitation seeping under his skin at the amused smile playing on Namjoon’s lips.

Taehyung finally yanks his hand out of Namjoon’s grasp.

“You thought I was cheating on you?” Namjoon’s eyes are soft, something else hidden beneath Taehyung can’t quite figure out.

Taehyung’s chest is heaving, blood rushing back to his heated cheeks.

“Then what else is there?” he spits out, fists clenched beside him to prevent from accidentally lashing out.

Namjoon gently picks up one of Taehyung’s hands, carefully easing the fist free to place a soft kiss on the back.

“I would never hurt you like that,” Namjoon smiles into the back of Taehyung’s hand still held close to his lips. “I love you.”

Something in Taehyung’s heart clenches, doubt still prominent in his mind.

“Then what is this house?” he asks, unable to feel his limbs. The world seems to be converging in on him from every direction, the sensation of claustrophobia working his breaths into a sharp pant.

“Oh this?” Namjoon glances behind his shoulder into the open doorway. “Well, I was going to wait until it’s completely finished, but…”

Namjoon slowly leads Taehyung into the house, lightly kicking the door shut with his foot. And the first thing Taehyung sees is a grand staircase splitting the center of an enormous front hall, a sparkling chandelier hanging above the ceiling. It’s absolutely stunning.

“Welcome to your new home,” Namjoon grins, dimples curving into his cheeks like an excited child on Christmas morning.

“What?” Taehyung is completely flabbergasted, eyes round and just about popping out with surprise.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “I was going to surprise you once it was completely finished.”

Taehyung blinks, and he blinks, and he blinks some more.

And then Taehyung cries, the tears pouring down his cheeks in an unrelenting stream as Namjoon panics, hands flittering uselessly as he tries to console his sobbing boyfriend.

The relief.

Pure and absolute relief forces the tears to squeeze through Taehyung’s defenses, followed by embarrassment that slowly settles into the pit of his stomach. And Taehyung is furious with himself for being so stupid.

How could he ever think Namjoon would leave him?

Taehyung drags his hoodie over his head, pulling it down as low as he can to hide himself from the embarrassment that makes him want to crawl away into a closet and never resurface.

“Please don’t cry,” Namjoon frets, pulling Taehyung into his chest and wrapping him up inside his strong embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung manages to cough out in between sobs, fists grasping onto handfuls of Namjoon’s work shirt. “I didn’t… I thought…”

Namjoon smiles warmly as he pushes Taehyung back far enough to look into his face, hands rubbing along Taehyung’s shoulders consolingly.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Namjoon brushes a thumb across Taehyung’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears trailing down. “I should be the one sorry for neglecting you. I was just so intent on getting everything perfect, I didn’t even realize I was hurting you. Sorry.”

Taehyung shakes his head. He should be the one apologizing.

But Namjoon merely grins, grasping onto either side of Taehyung’s hoodie. And with a gentle tug, Namjoon pulls him up for a soft kiss, lips warm and perfect and everything Taehyung had missed.

And just like that, it’s like the past few months never even happened, everything perfect in Taehyung’s happy world.

Namjoon is here, and Taehyung is alive, and everything is so very wonderful once again.

--

“What the hell is going on in there?” Jimin taps the steering wheel restlessly. The sun is beginning to edge over the horizon, and not a single word from Taehyung so far.

He takes out his cell phone, pressing dial and resting his head on the cool window.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Yoongi hyuuung,” Jimin whines. “What should I do?”