TAEGI SMUTS [ᵃᵒ3]

Our Song (But Make It About Our End)

Ao3 by : stateoftaegi

Summary :

"How many times have you listened to it?" Yoongi was cautious, no smile painted his scarlet lips.

"I actually wanted to–I wanted to explain..."

"Taehyung." Yoongi interrupted his speech and then reached the sofa with his chair.

"Taehyung, how many times did you come?"

fuck, fuck, fuck – it couldn't be happening, it couldn't.

or Taehyung asks Yoongi to produce a song for his mixtape and Yoongi sends the wrong audio.

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Taehyung has always been in love with words. The way each letter binds to the other until it formulates the envelope, the container, of an image that sometimes not even the eyes can understand. Learning to write meant painting with ink the immense sky around his grandparents' farm, learning to write meant putting on paper his grandparents' wrinkles, and making immortal flowers that tended to wither at the end of each summer.

In Taehyung's eyes the world seemed too big – as a child the ink offered him a way to capture it. Growing up he used other instruments, such as the colors of his paintings and finally the music. If only the notes had been as simple as the letters, yet the two things tended to meet in the songs, in those monumental works of art that had the honor of performing with his best friends in front of an equally important audience.

When the excitement for the show was still sour, Taehyung spent his days practicing in the rehearsal room, repeating the various steps of their choreography, singing his verses in the recording room – but his favorite moment was to stay and watch his hyungs work on the next songs, composing at the same time words and notes that Taehyung should have sung. No one could impress him like Min Yoongi, no one could make him attentive for hours – but Taehyung would never change his evenings in Yoongi' studio for nothing else.

("Tae? Do you want to try composing something too?" Yoongi asked tenderly one evening, embarrassed by the boy's attention to his work.

"No, it's okay for me to look at you." Taehyung replied with a smile, his body lying on a little sofa.

"Yah–Kim Taehyung, I know you, I'm sure you want a lot more than just watching, wouldn't you like to write your own song?"

Taehyung will forever remember that night, the way Yoongi had sat next to him, ignoring any kind of distance.

"I-I'd love to, but hyung... I can't write songs.")

Yoongi had tried several times over the years to change his mind, but Taehyung had stood firm in his belief  until the WINGS concept came and despite his collaboration in some productions, Taehyung did not feel ready for a solo work. A part of him wondered if asking for help represented a weakness; would he ever be able to write something of his own? Each member had already decided on the theme of their song and Taehyung had some lyrics ready on his tongue, but it was difficult to pull them out as much as to swallow them. The boy knew what he wanted to talk about, his diary full of that suffering, of that secret, which he had not yet had the courage to admit.

Words – Taehyung loved words, but they could easily become a dangerous weapon if spoken.

("Taehyung? Namjoon told me you’re the only one missing from the solos." Yoongi had no intention of playing around the matter and him being direct did not share any nastiness.