Lovers in Tokyo | taegi

9

And then Yoongi would head back to his apartment, maybe start a new song, watch a movie with his flatmates.

It's that last bit that convinces Yoongi. The normality of his life. Tonight has felt slightly magical, like it's existed out of the usual realm of time. He doesn't want to end this so early, he thinks. Not when it's going so well, not when- not when Yoongi has felt this much alive, and there's no harm, really, is there. Won't mean much.

Won't mean much at all.

Yoongi can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He tilts his chin to face Taehyung and breathes in too shallow so his chest smarts. "Actually. Uh, if you really feel that- that bad about it."

Silly, how his voice almost trembles.

Taehyung blinks, raises an eyebrow. He pauses as Yoongi stares at him, the tips of his ears slowly turning pink. Maybe from the cold, Yoongi thinks. "Yeah...?"

Yoongi breaks the stare, swipes his tongue along his bottom lip. Taehyung's gaze flits to it, then quickly back to Yoongi's eyes. Yoongi's too nervous to notice Taehyung's movement, though, his blood weirdly feeling a bit too hot right now, enough to release steam.

"There's uh," Yoongi's voice is soft and unhurried, "there's a market nearby we can go to."

When Yoongi dares bring his gaze back to Taehyung, there's a slow delight in them, and something else, too. Like Taehyung is also a bit scared of falling back into Yoongi, and somehow this makes Yoongi a little braver, so he forges on.

"It's a night market, there's souvenirs and stargazing and street food. Also desserts. You'd like it, you- you have a sweet tooth, and...yeah, so. Um."

Taehyung takes only a second to reply but Yoongi feels somehow taut, held at his edges. The younger smiles warm, full with honey and all things sweet, makes Yoongi a bit starved looking at it.

"Sure, that sounds good. Let's go."

/

By the time they arrive the market is in full swing, the entire place lit up like a carnival show.

Dozens of lanterns hang above them, each bearing a scrawl of Japanese proverbs; some Yoongi can understand, some too complicated for his decent Japanese to grasp. They bathe the market aglow with soft yellows, hazy and dim. People flit in between stalls, wooden stands set up on each side of the street in a long line, ending in a circle around green grassy hills. Yoongi can see couples and families lying down on picnic blankets, pointing at stars, taking pictures of each other.

A small pang sounds in his chest, an image sprawling vivid and sudden in his mind, his mouth going a bit dry at the memory: Taehyung's head on Yoongi's chest, the night frozen over and dotted all over with stars, a bottle of half-drunk wine perched on the blanket they lie on, both of them smiling big and speaking low, can't stop giggling like fools in love; and the park was empty save for them, white snow coating the ground, where Yoongi would soon kneel down on to look into Taehyung's widened eyes, to ask him would you –

Yoongi sucks in a small hissing breath. The flood of pain clawing at his chest nearly bursts out for a second, but he reels it back in as quick as it had come.

(He still has the ring. It's collecting dust in its velvet box, unceremoniously shoved into Yoongi's third drawer of his desk.

When Taehyung had left him, Yoongi had spent the first few nights just staring at the burgundy lid, not even opening the box. His bed had felt too wide, too foreign without Taehyung's body weighing down the other side, and Yoongi would always find himself crawling out of bed to sit in front of the desk. Sometimes he won't even open the drawer itself. He'd just stare through the wood, feels his tears block his chest and press against his eyelids, numb ache weighing him down down down until at last sleep catches up to him and Yoongi would tumble back into bed to dream of hazel brown eyes and lips kissing his soft and slow.)

Taehyung's small exclamation of delight distracts Yoongi out of his reverie, and he's a bit dizzy, has to scramble back to reality. Blinking hard, Yoongi's gaze follows to where Taehyung is pointing.

A wishing well, decorated with pasted-on fake sakura flowers and a thicket of green vines, complete with a small bucket perched on the side, although Yoongi's sure there's not enough water to fill up even half a pail down there.

Yoongi has never really believed in them – he doesn't completely disregard the possibilities of wishes coming true, of course, it's just that he loves money, and he'd rather not throw them down a well. For instance, he could buy food.

But Taehyung's grin lights up his face like the lanterns above them, and of course Yoongi can't say no, so he shrugs around for some spare change. They both clasp their hands to wish.

Yoongi peeks at Taehyung, only to see that the younger is also sneaking a glance at him, and when their gazes meet, they break into little giggles, throwing the coins in at the same time.

Later on, when they enter the market, Taehyung asks what Yoongi had wished for.

Yoongi hesitates, and he remembers how it feels, Taehyung's body against his, the blinding happiness filling his heart when Taehyung had answered yes yes yes that one snowy day, remember what followed after.

So he'd only said, m'not gonna tell you, or else it won't come true. Taehyung had pouted but let it drop, turning his attention to the interior of the market instead.

(Yoongi had wished for Taehyung's happiness, even if it's with someone else; for happiness more than what Yoongi had made Taehyung feel, because he deserves it, and more.)

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hi! you may notice that i'm on an indefinite hiatus from Wattpad at the moment - however, this Taegi fic is pre-written and all i have to do is upload chunks of it every week, so please expect a weekly update! thank you for deciding to stick with this story, i hope you're enjoying it. let me know what you think! 💞