Bts Imagines [ Book 2 ] EDITING IS ON

Taehyung ( Request )

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"Taehyung ah, come home early for dinner okay?" Sent 7:14 pm. Heaven starts sending white kisses from above. They know how to take their time; besides, there aren't any reasons to rush. The smell of roasted chicken spread out from the oven. The glossy honey gold tint on the outside indicates how perfectly cooked it is. It is placed next to the pot of bright red kimchi stew with smoke coming out from its head as if it is angry with spiciness. I smile with satisfaction while looking at the meal that my own hands made. Will Taehyung like it? Will he eat it and open his eyes in shock of how delicious it is? Enjoy it or not, at least we get the chance to eat at the same table on Christmas day.

Being in a relationship with an idol is equivalent to compromising with loneliness most of the time. I never mind the fact that our relationship has to be private, but the meeting each other has always been a difficulty. I lost count how many time I planned out dinner dates and later received his texts saying he couldn't come because of work. It was hard, still I manage to fight the emptiness and secure him in my heart. There are times that I feel like giving up on the type of relationship we are trying to maintain, but his text messages, his voice when he calls me pull my feet back to where we started. I love him all over again. I want him all over again.

"Come back soon. I miss you." Sent 8:30 pm. Taehyung didn't reply my last message, probably because of work. I take the cup of hot chocolate in my hands and sit by the window. The snow is still falling, forming a stainless white layer of cotton on the street and the rooftops. Nobody is alone. Even though the weather outside is more than freezing, they seem warm by their love ones' side. I avert my eyes from them and focus on my hot chocolate again. Taehyung loves hot chocolate, but why hasn't he come yet? No... he didn't reply my text messages because he's busy, not because he forgot our promises.

I scroll up our conversation box, looking back at our old texts. I read every single one of them. They are still fresh, like a new fleecy blanket that wraps around my icy body. Our soft and sweet conversations early in the morning or our heated chat bubbles at midnight, they become my battery charger whenever I feel sour or whenever I miss him. Now, I'm not sure if my heart is blue or that I'm just purely missing him.

"Hey let's meet this Christmas. I can't wait to see you."

.

.

"Are you on your way home?" Sent 9:45 pm. Smoke has stopped coming out of the kimchi stew. The roasted chicken looks dehydrated. The wrinkle on its skin appears as if the time it takes to waiting has aged the food. I sigh; blur the view in front of me. I keep looking for a tall figure with hazelnut hair, but the one I want never cross the window. Cocoa powder sticks on the bottom of my cup, slowly dry out under my eyes but not for long. My vision becomes fuzzy and drops of water start to fill my cup. My throat burns. I can feel my veins and arteries thumping but my heart can hardly breathe. Each drop falls in sync with each hiccup. My hand rises up and clean those salty emotions, but they keep pouring out without my intent. But I know for sure, they can only be stop by my phone buzzing with his text or the door bell ringing. None of those fantasies come true.

"Where are you...?" Sent 10:30 pm. Tears stop falling. They begin to dry on my cheeks. They can't be seen, but I can feel them so clearly. My eyes hurt as if there are small ant bites growing in there. The street becomes emptier and darker. Snow refilled the crates of footprints. I still search for him with the weak flame of hope that at this instant, he will arrive at the door and we can still celebrate our Christmas together. My fingers dial his numbers, expecting a deep husky voice from the other line to tell me that he is coming home, and that he hasn't put his words into forgotten.

Toot...Toot...Toot...

"The number you dialed is currently unavail..."

I throw my phone across the sofa. Rather than feeling angry of him not coming home in time, the fear of him encountering something bad is scarier. My stomach growls, but my mind doesn't notice.

Suddenly the knob twists and the door opens. Taehyung's familiar figure is there. His hazelnut hair is covered in white snow on the top and so are his shoulders. Smoke is coming out of his short breaths. He must have been running. The door closes behind him as he instantly dropped his bag. He dashes to where I am standing and pulls me into his embrace. My face is half buried in his shoulder. I forget how long I've been yearning for these feelings: his cold hands on my back and his frosty cheek on my cheek. But he feels warmer than any hot chocolate.

"I'm sorry. There was a Christmas party... and I just saw your texts and your missed calls..." His words stumble on each other. They all try to get out at once. He squeezes my body tighter and my throat burns again. I wonder if he sees the meal I prepared for him from his view, how they dried from hope just as I am.

"Hey... let's stop..."

That sentence sounds so light slipping out of my lips, but little does he know how hard it had to sneak through my throat. He releases me from his arms and looks in my eyes. His lips part their ways, tremble without control but there is no force applied. His hands place on my shoulders. They are so small he can just grab them with his whole hands. He squeezes them tight as his eyes widen.

"No... no... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I should have told you... I was wrong... I..."

I feel the hiccups as he speaks. He shakes his head just like he shakes my body. His eyes become wet with water, but they still open widely. My shoulders sway back and forth under his touch. I hold his face, stroking his cheeks and wiping tears that are falling down like rain.

"We can't keep this up and you know it right? We just need to stop this..."

I find myself hard to talk and hard to choose my own words. Taehyung eyes turn weak and lifeless. Tears are blurring the natural dazzle in his iris. He knows how hurt I was, am and will be feeling if I'm still with him. It is only way to set him free and also to set me free.

"Come on. Let's have our last Christmas together." I break the silence, trying to be as casual as I can while turning away towards the dinner table. Suddenly, Taehyung grabs my wrist and turn me around. His hands place on my hot rosy cheeks and his lips touch mine. He presses them tightly together, not allowing any gaps between us. Then I find myself return to his arms.

"Just let me hold you like this, please... I promise I'll let you go when tomorrow comes."