The Last Dance

chapter one: the last dance

✰⭒✰ [written to House of Cards by BTS] ✰⭒✰

24th March, 1866.

Seokjin wondered how he could feel so alone surrounded by so many people.  
Above ground, London's most noble society were dancing their cares away underneath masks and in the arms of their beloveds. Underneath was much the same, only the women slipped their gloved fingers into other women's, and boys eyed each other carelessly, recklessly, collars loose and vests unbuttoned like they never could in polite society. 
Tossing the rest of his bitter drink down his throat, he eyed the perfumed letter in his hand. It was paper, only paper, but so much more. The harbinger of his downfall, if ever discovered. His only hope. 
These words, he thought, fingering the smooth calligraphy only Taehyung could achieve, these words are my salvation. 

Addressed to Lord Seokjin Kim, they read:

I ask only for one night. Allow me to unravel you as thoroughly as you have unravelled me. Our last dance lies under Dreamer's Downfall, at midnight. Let me look into your eyes and feel love one more time. 
Please. 

from the utterly bewitched,
Taehyung. 

He sighed. Fool's hope that Taehyung would ever want to see him that way. Midnight had come and gone, and with it the certainty that this was more than just a cruel joke. 
Seokjin leaned back against the wall, his mask hanging loosely from his fingers. All he'd wanted was to be loved as everyone else was. All he'd wanted was this damned last dance with Taehyung before he left for war. All he'd wanted was Taehyung. 
Perhaps the tavern underground was named appropriately for its patrons. 
Stuffing the letter into his coat pocket, he downed one more drink before getting ready to leave. Who was he to want so much anyway?
"Going somewhere?"
He froze. 
Fingers, soft, so soft, brushed against his. 
"You're late," Seokjin said quietly. 
The man standing beside him stepped forward, blue eyes gleaming from behind the silver gilded mask resting against his dark curls. "I'm here now."
"So you are."
Taehyung's eyes sparked with mischief,  his hand reaching for Seokjin's. "May I have this dance?"
He'd be a fool to accept now. One of epic proportions. But Taehyung was already unravelling him with his gaze, scorching and heavy, just as he'd said he would. Even fools couldn't resist the call of those eyes and the promise that lingered within their depths. 
Seokjin slipped his hand into his. 
Taehyung smiled.  
His hand moved to Seokjin's waist, the other tightening around his own, eyes never leaving his. 
Seokjin dragged his fingers lightly over Taehyung's chest, his black waistcoat and black shirt, up, up, up to rest on the side of his neck, if only to see Taehyung's gaze burn. To see the catch of his breath. 
The music was all around them, filling his senses, seductive, slow, and red in its tones. They swayed with it, only breaths apart from each other. Seokjin tilted his head forward, nose brushing with Taehyung's, breaths mingling. Hands tightening, eyes sliding half-closed, all they did in that moment was dream. 
Taehyung lifted his head, eyes clouded. "You...you have ruined me. Utterly."
He inhaled sharply. "Should I be flattered?"
Taehyung leaned forward, eyes dipping to his mouth. "Yes."
Seokjin closed his eyes, head tipping back, feeling the soft kiss upon his neck. His jaw. A path of them down to the hollow of his throat. If he could only live like this every day. Every second. He would give up everything for it. That path. The way it burned like fire through his body. 
And then it was gone. 
Seokjin blearily opened his eyes into Taehyung's playful gaze. Taehyung's hand tugged at his. "Let me show you real pleasure."
Nerves coiled tightly in his stomach, heart fluttering, Seokjin let himself be led by Taehyung, as always. 
The music was muffled now, distant, in this balcony they stood upon. A piano stood grandly to one side of this strange room, the dark velvet curtains drawn back, moonlight filtering in like an angel's smile. The breeze ruffled his hair slightly, and Seokjin tilted his head, bemused, as he looked on at Taehyung running a finger down the keys, discordant sounds ringing. 
Taehyung's gaze found his. 
"Play something for me."
And Seokjin knew then, he knew, he was never going to forget this man's heavy gaze and his light touches and reverent words. He was never going to forget. 
Seokjin took slow steps to the piano seat, his eyes on Taehyung's the entire time, their connection suffocating and burning, by god, he could barely look away. 
He slid into the piano seat. 
Mindful of Taehyung's body behind him, the warmth radiating like fingers slipping over his neck, his hands, his lips, heating him down to his bones, he asked, "What would you like me to play?"
Taehyung's hands rested on his shoulders, his mouth near Seokjin's ear. "Anything. Everything. Something terribly tragic and reverent. Something like us."
Seokjin's eyes slid shut, leaning into Taehyung's warmth as Taehyung slid to his knees on the marble floor, the side of his cheek pressed to his back, arms wrapping around his waist, just holding him. 
What was Seokjin supposed to say to something like that?
So he kept quiet. He played.
The notes dripped from the instrument, sliding to the floor, holding him like Taehyung was, heavy and tragic and reverent, reverent just like Taehyung wanted and reverent just like Taehyung's kisses. He tilted his head back, being himself, just himself, that was all he'd ever wanted anyway. 
That, and Taehyung. 
His fingers froze. Seokjin stopped playing, sitting still, unnaturally still. The music was a lie. This entire thing was a lie. This wasn't freeing. It wasn't reverent. 
It was only tragic. 
He didn't want to be like that. 
"You-you stopped playing," Taehyung's voice cracked a little, and Seokjin turned as Taehyung's arms slid away from him, his warmth sliding away from him. 
When Seokjin looked down at Taehyung, still kneeling, his hands curled into fists, eyes squeezed shut, the remnants of crystal tears shining in the moonlight. 
He reached down, taking Taehyung's fists in his own, uncurling them, slowly, gently, and Taehyung let him, never looking up, eyes fixated on Seokjin's mask which lay discarded on the floor. "This is all we are, aren't we? Masks, and slow kisses in dark shadowy places, and lies. This is," he jerked, snatching his hands out of Seokjin's, pressing them to his heart, like it hurt, "it's all a lie."
Seokjin swallowed hard, the pain a hard knot in his chest, knowing Taehyung was wrong, because if anything, this was the truest thing he'd ever done. "It isn't. Taehyung. Taehyung, look at me."
Taehyung raised his blue, blue eyes, a fine sheen of tears muting the crackling electric blue. Seokjin pressed his hands to either side of Taehyung's neck, leaning forward, their foreheads brushing. "If anything, you are the only truth I have ever told."
Taehyung released a shuddering breath, his eyes sliding closed, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Say that one more time. Let me pretend this is more than a dream."
"You are," Seokjin said, pressing his mouth to the fresh tears spilling over Taehyung's cheeks, "the only truth," their noses brushed, and their mouths, too, slow shivering touches, too afraid to press harder as though they were frightened the other would shimmer like a mirage and vanish, "I have ever told."
And then they were kissing hard, damn if the other was a mirage, damn if he would disappear, because Seokjin would hold on, damn it, he would hold on till the end of his life, and Taehyung was clutching at his shirt the same way, their tears mixing with the taste of their mouths, the taste of their desperation, and Taehyung's hands were sliding up his neck and into his hair, wild, tugging, pleading. 
"Tell me you'll come back to me," Taehyung breathed, "tell me you'll come back here, when it's over, this time, this day. I'll wait for you every year. I'll wait."
Seokjin didn't answer, eyes hooded, leaning into him to kiss his neck. He didn't know what would happen. Didn't know if he would come back alive. 
And this was it. Their last night before he left. Their last night so he could hold the memory close late in the night, when the moon was up, reminiscing about the way Taehyung kissed him under it, the way Taehyung worshipped him under it. 
Their last night, and then finished. 
Gone. 

✰⭒✰⭒✰

Six years later

Taehyung's heart was in his throat. 
It was a small, fluttering thing, like the wing beats of a hummingbird. He wanted to fly away with it--the hot and cold feeling seizing his body like it did every year, rooting him in place. Tying him to the one man who got away. 
Please let this be the last year. 
Please ruin me once more. 
Every time, every time he came to this godforsaken place, it weighed him down with the memories, a tarnished silver anchor sinking into the sea bed, whirling around him, pushing him to his knees--
Hands pulling hair, soft fingers, a breathy voice--"You are the only truth I have ever told--" words swimming around him, the heavy truth in Seokjin's words, the promise not promised--
Taehyung took in a shuddering breath, eyes sliding closed, head tilting backward. He was such a fool. Coming here every year, getting his heart broken for a man either dead or long gone. Pathetic. 
Desperate. 
Maybe he should give it up. Maybe he should stop breathing in a dream long destroyed. 
But he knew he wouldn't stop. He would stand here, in this very spot next year, waiting. He would think these same thoughts with the same cracked, broken heart, and he would try to fill those cracks with the hardest liquor he could find, two crumpled tickets tucked in his pocket to a place where they could dream.  
Taehyung tried to slow his breathing, the dread, the dread coiling so tightly, the sinking feeling of his heart, he didn't want to be a tragedy. 
He had only ever wanted Seokjin. 
Eyes still screwed shut, he threw the rest of his drink into his mouth, setting the glass on a nearby table hard. No one noticed. Not over the music, not wrapped in themselves as they were, in their little tragedies, their little stories and heartbreaks. 
His sight was bleary when he finally opened his eyes, gaze travelling over the dancers, over the drinks, the euphoria and the tears. His gaze halted at a masked man standing on the other end of the tavern, the man's eyes fixed on him. 
Was he, too, waiting for someone? Was he looking for his age old love?
The man's gaze was running too hot, too intense; exactly what Taehyung wanted. To forget. 
But he was here for Seokjin. 
He wouldn't waver, damn it. He wouldn't forget. He couldn't. It would only hurt worse afterward. 
So Taehyung's eyes slid back shut. 
A light touch fluttered against his cheek. 
His eyes snapped open. 
It was him. The man, with his lace mask covering almost the entirety of his face. 
There was something...too familiar with that gaze. The feelings rushing back too familiar.
"May I have this dance?" The man offered him a hand, and Taehyung couldn't help the nerves making him want to collapse, the butterfly wings in his throat, because that hand--it was a hand well touched. A hand much kissed.
By him. 
He must have been dreaming, he must have been dreaming, the liquor cold and cruel, delighting in his misery, because that could not be Seokjin pulling off his mask, those weren't his porcelain features, so damn flawless, Taehyung could fall to his knees. It couldn't be him. 
And yet it was.
"You're late," Taehyung breathed. 
A heart-stopping grin crossed Seokjin's features. "I'm here now."
"So you are."
And then they were kissing, he didn't know how, didn't know who moved first, didn't know how the dread in his stomach had lightened to flutters, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, his throat, his entire body.
Seokjin pulled back gasping. "I didn't think you'd be here."
"I waited. I waited every year. For you."
And they were holding each other so tightly, not letting go, Taehyung breathing him in, Seokjin's hands in his hair. They were here. The moon was out tonight, watching them. Smiling, because they were real. They were real. 
And they weren't tragic.