Chapter Text
“Taehyung, please go home,” Jimin says. He's stopping by Taehyung's office on his way out just like he does every evening, and he sees the same picture as always: glazed over eyes, violet painted beneath them, posture more defeated than anybody else has seen CEO Kim Taehyung because of the way he hides it around others. He tries to hide it around Jimin too, but it never works as well as he wants it to.
“Can’t,” Taehyung says, not looking up from what he’s typing. The tap of the computer keys is the only sound that's been in his office all day, that and the sighs that he never really notices unless they sometimes make his chest feel a little lighter. “I have to finish what I’m doing.”
“No you don’t. And you can finish it up at home anyway. You can’t stay here until three in the morning again.”
Taehyung sighs another sigh and finally looks up at his best friend. His eyes are burning a bit, both from having been awake for longer than just a normal workday and from staring at a computer screen for so long. He has to rub them a few times to make the sting go away. When he does, he sees the same look he’s been seeing from Jimin for a long, long time now: not quite pity, not quite sadness, but a special mix of both. Jimin’s kind eyes are soft whenever they look at him, and he looks tired too. His blonde hair is a little unkempt, and his tie is loosened with the top button of his sky blue shirt undone. It's the way anybody looks after a day at the office though, something that will lift in the comfort and familiarity of their homes and disappear altogether after a night of sleep.
“Go home, Jimin," Taehyung sighs again. He's not impatient or agitated because of Jimin's care; he hates the way he watches Jimin feel some of the same things he does when he's around him, like he's trying to shoulder some of the heaviness. "It’s already later than you usually leave and Yoongi probably misses you.”
“Taehyung,” Jimin says. His voice is threatening as he takes a step inside his office. “I’m not leaving until you do.” He throws his things on the big brown leather couch against one of the walls in the overly spacious room, then he plops down, resting his feet on the coffee table.
Taehyung blinks at him, then he sighs again. He quickly finishes the email he was typing and sends it off. He doesn't want to keep Jimin at the office until an ungodly hour and away from Yoongi just because he doesn’t have any reason to be somewhere else.
He slowly packs up his things and tries to ignore the sinking feeling he gets about having to go home. He drapes his suit jacket over his arm and follows Jimin to the elevator.
Jimin turns to him while they wait on the empty office floor. “I don’t like how late you stay, Tae,” he says. His eyes are wide and worried, but they're still so gentle and loving too. “When do you even sleep? You get home in the middle of the night then come back a few hours later.”
“I sleep fine,” Taehyung lies. He avoids Jimin’s gaze to avoid the disappointed look on his face that he knows is there.
Jimin doesn’t say anything; he just takes Taehyung’s hand and threads their fingers together when they step inside the elevator. He rests his head on Taehyung’s shoulder and holds onto his arm with his other hand. Taehyung tries hard to not lean too much into the touch, even though Jimin knows just as well as he does how touch-starved he is.
“Love you, Tae,” Jimin says, squeezing his hand.
“Love you too, Jiminie,” Taehyung says, resting his cheek on the top of Jimin’s head.
– ♡ –
Taehyung nods at the doorman in his building, then he steps in the elevator and hits the button for the top floor. He sighs as he leans against the mirrored wall, avoiding his reflection. He tries to ignore the unpleasant feeling that increases as the number at the top of the doors rises, bringing him to his dark, empty apartment. He'd rather stay at the office and get work done than sit in silence in a place too big for only himself.
It wasn’t always like this. When he first bought the penthouse years ago, he was younger and more optimistic. He used to think that his voice danced through the suite when he sang, but now all he hears are echoes. He filled his bookshelves with stories he’s read and would soon read, hours spent cozied up on his couch or out in the park getting lost between the words on every page. Now dust settles on the wood they rest upon, untouched. He doesn’t feel the way he once felt about most things, and he doesn’t know when exactly that changed.
He’s only twenty-nine – much too young to feel so jaded. Much too young to feel like all the ghosts of who he used to be leave their traces all around, his apartment feeling like a graveyard sometimes.
He just feels lonely, and he feels it even more when it’s just him surrounded by so much space. So many echoey rooms, so many long hallways, so much quiet. He feels lonely when he's in meetings with a full conference room too, or when he's walking down the bustling sidewalks downtown, so he's not really sure where that leaves him.
The elevator doors part. He enters in the code for his apartment, and when he opens the door he’s met with the same loneliness that greets him every night. He takes off his shoes and makes his way to his bedroom to get ready for bed. The sun has just barely set, but he decides to try to go to sleep anyway.
He thinks of Jimin’s life. Counting down the minutes on the clock, rushing to get home because the person he loves is there. The person who loves him back. A home that looks lived in. A home that looks loved, with proof of them everywhere they look. He thinks of Seokjin and Namjoon, both of them with such busy lives but always finding ways to make time for themselves and each other. Even Hoseok, who lives alone just like him, with a smile still always on his face and no heaviness weighing him down.
He tries not to compare his life to his friends’ lives, and when he does, it’s with no resentment at all. He sometimes just can’t help but notice the stark differences between all of them and him.
The sound of his light footsteps travels down the halls, interrupting the quiet. The only real evidence that there is life there are the clothes in his closet. Even the desk in his home office is empty – a room that he sometimes forgets is there at all because of how seldom it has been used, as he much prefers to work at his work office. He may still be alone as he works through the late hours of the night there, but the silence isn’t so heavy as it is in the place he’s supposed to call home.
He’s not unhappy. He has a best friend who he loves, who loves him fiercely in return. A small group of friends that feel more like family. And although it doesn’t feel like home, he has a beautiful penthouse overlooking Seoul. He never has to worry about money or bills or anything most people have on their minds. He’s lucky, and he knows it.
He’s not unhappy. He’s just so lonely.
He knows that if he called Jimin, if he called any one of his friends and finally told them the extent of it, the extent of how he feels, they’d show up at his doorstep in an instant. And he’d feel okay for a few hours, but once they left again and he was left in a penthouse full of shadows, it would all come back, maybe worse than before.
He gets in his bed, a bed far too big for only him, and turns off the lights. He grabs the remote to close the blinds, and the room is encased in darkness. And thankfully, for the first time in months, sleep comes easily. Just minutes after he closes his eyes, his mind wanders as his body rests, not a ghost of a dream to be found.