Chapter Text
Taehyung was texting the members, trying to sound casual, not like he’d almost kissed a girl, a fan, while alone in her apartment when she was potentially contagious in a voice-stealing way, and also maybe not as interested as he thought he possibly was. Jimin and Jungkook were at the gym. Yoongi was holed up in the studio, as though there were anything left to do on this new album. Maybe he was already writing the things for the next one. Seemed likely. Hoseok was in the practice room with teacher Sungdeuk going over choreography. That left Namjoon or Seokjin. Namjoon was the first to respond, extending an invitation to the floor of his room for unloading his troubles.
Taehyung wasn’t troubled. There was nothing to be troubled about. He spent his nights dreaming of a girl who he sometimes dreamed of… as… living her life, and she dreamed of him, and now they had hung out, alone, in a small villa in Seoul, watching a racy movie that definitely didn’t give him any feelings in his underpants area, roughly two weeks before a major comeback. Everything was obviously fine.
Still, he shuffled into Namjoon’s room, pushing aside some of the mountain of stuff on Jungkook’s bed to make a space to sit. Namjoon had barely looked up, pen scratching over paper as he waved Taehyung in. “What’s going on in that head of yours today?” Namjoon asked, the words familiar after so many repetitions.
“Namjoon-hyung, do you ever… I mean we always...you know, sing about love and stuff, but do you ever wish you had… the time… to really do it? Fall in love, I mean?” Taehyung mumbled, chewing on his bottom lip between phrases.
“Sure. Sort of. It’s kinda lonely having no one but you assholes to share all this glittering fame with, but on the other hand, I can barely keep my head above water most days, so I don’t really have much, you know, to offer, for a real relationship, you know? I barely make time to call my mom most days, so where would I find time to add a woman into that mix? Plus, I have to give my everything to Bangtan, right? To the music and the promoting, and the producing, and the writing, and being a good leader, and being a good dancer, and all that, so I don’t have room in my brain, let alone my heart, for a girl. All I would have to talk to her about is stuff she would only barely understand, unless she was an idol too, and then there’s the whole scandal aspect and if she’s an idol then she doesn’t have time either, so you know… it’s just me and my computer.” Taehyung raised his eyebrows, trying to keep focused on Namjoon’s rambling monologue. “I mean for music, Taehyung, I mean for music. You pervert.”
“I’m not the pervert in this situation, hyung.”
“Why the sudden interest in the fairer sex, my little Taehyungie?”
Taehyung was quiet for a moment, letting all the things Namjoon had said sink in. He knew there was no time in his life to add anything more. He was already sacrificing sleep, and sometimes it seemed, his sanity, to make his dreams of being a singer come true. He hadn’t much thought about the fact that physically and emotionally he didn’t have anything left to give anyone that wasn’t Bangtan or BigHit.
But he didn’t have to worry about Samantha not understanding, because she lived it with him, every night when she slept, she lived the stress and the exhaustion. She knew all that part so well already. Was that enough, to sustain this… whatever it was, for as long as it would take? There wasn’t an explicit dating ban in their contract, but it was definitely the unspoken rule. Anytime anyone spent a little too long talking to a fan, or staff, or a trainee, it was assumed they must have too much free time and suddenly found themselves with extra duties and responsibilities that kept them much too busy to even think about continuing such friendships. But this…
“TaeTae, why the sudden questions? What’s on your mind?” Namjoon was looking at him now, with that piercing gaze he usually reserved for cameras when he was trying to be extra charismatic, but Taehyung knew he was just trying to see to the heart of things. Namjoon wasn’t particularly perceptive when it came to people, at least not the people he was close to, but when it came to the big picture, the sweeping grand overtures of human nature, Namjoon was practically an expert.
“So, this thing with Sam, it’s…” Taehyung let his voice trail off, not sure what he wanted to say. The weight of guilt, of possibly putting Bangtan at risk over something that he had no control over, but no one would believe, was stifling.
“Well that’s a horse of a different color, Taehyung.”
“A what?”
“It’s just a saying. What I mean is it’s not the same. You’re not dating her, and management is on board as much as they can be, so it’s safe. Relatively speaking. None of this is safe. It could all blow up in our faces at any moment, you know. Fragile as glass, as permanent as smoke. It’s all just a phase anyway.” Taehyung controlled his face, just barely keeping his eyes from rolling right out of his head. “Is that what you’re worried about? Sam?”
“It would be such a scandal, Namjoon-hyung, if anyone ever found out about it. She’s a fan. She’s American, and the netizens would have a party while they eviscerated her, and me, and the fans, they would… they would freak out. They would hate me. I can’t do that to her. I can’t do that to Bangtan. I can’t--”
“What about you, Taehyung?” Namjoon interrupted. Taehyung blinked, train of thought evaporating under the force of his leader’s stare.
“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Taehyung’s face was blank as the thoughts spun out of control behind his eyes. Wasn’t this what Namjoon should be worried about? The future of Bangtan that Taehyung was putting at risk?
Namjoon stood up from his desk and crossed to the bed, nudging Taehyung aside with his hip. “I’ve heard you talk about Sam, about Bangtan, about what you think is best for her, for us, but can you stop for just a minute and tell me what you, Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, want out of all this?” Ever the gentle giant, afraid to break things just by touching, Namjoon was a bundle of awkward wrapped in the kind of consideration that only someone used to making mistakes could have for those around him.
“Does it matter?” Taehyung kept his face as blank as possible. He was horrible at handling disappointment. It was so much easier to never let anyone know you were hoping than to get your hopes up only to have them crushed.
“Yes, it does. It’s not your job to worry about the future of Bangtan. That’s my job. You just worry about you, about doing the best that you can as often as you can. That’s your job.”
“Well, right, but doesn’t that mean not putting Bangtan at risk by creating an opportunity for scandal?”
“You aren’t going to mess up Bangtan for some crush. I’ve seen you walk away from casual friendships before. I know you know how to put Bangtan first.”
“But this is different, hyung. I can’t walk away.”
“You didn’t ask for these dreams. When you figured it out, you handled it by talking to us, talking to management and getting everything sorted as best you could. You’ve been discreet and it’s been fine. You managed to pull off a date in a public place. In America. And no one knew anything about it. She’s already a part of your life, right? She’s going to be there in one way or another, so why not make it the way you want it to be? What do you want it to be, Taehyungie?”
Taehyung looked at him, feeling the spinning giddiness from earlier resurface.
“I don’t really know, hyung. I think I was hoping that you would just tell me what to do. Cut ties and never see her again or something.” Taehyung shrugged, looking sheepish.
“You know it doesn’t work that way, TaeTae.”
“Yeah, I know, but I just want someone to tell me what to do.” Taehyung sighed, trying to worm his way towards Jungkook’s pillow through a tangled mess of plain t-shirts and hoodies.
“No one can. Hell, no one even really understands what the hell is going on.”
“Me neither!” Taehyung wailed, voice muffled by a sudden avalanche of beanies.
“So, how was your date?”
“That’s the thing, hyung! It wasn’t supposed to be a date. It was just supposed to be a thing. Hanging out. Normal.” Taehyung took a deep breath, shaking his head and smoothing his hair back into place over his forehead. He was twisting his rings around again, not able to look Namjoon in the eye as he thought about the events of the evening. “Not a big deal, but then she looked extra cute all snuggled up in this fuzzy pink blanket with nothing but her big brown eyes poking out and the movie was tense and there was nudity and she was running her fingers through my hair and I don’t even know what was going on but it felt different and I have no idea how she really feels about me. I don’t want to ruin anything. It’s not like I can get away from her, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. She’s still going to be dreaming of me and I really, really miss dreaming of her. I miss her. I want to see her all the time and I can’t and that’s hard and if this is what love is like then I don’t know why anyone does it because this sucks and she’s already had her heart broken into a million pieces so I can’t do anything to hurt her. I just can’t. But I like her, hyung. I like her, but like you said, I don’t have anything to give her.” Taehyung sighed, looking up to see Namjoon smiling at him fondly. “Besides, she likes Yoongi-hyung best anyway,” Taehyung muttered as an afterthought.
“You’re adorable, you know that?”
“Hyung, I’m serious! I almost kissed her tonight. If she hadn’t been wearing that stupid mask, I might have! That changes everything, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe, but you can’t get away from her so you’d have to find someway to work it out, right?”
“But even though we’re connected, that doesn’t mean… does it?”
“That might have been a full thought, but it wasn’t a full sentence.”
“So, we’re connected, right? Our brains are connected by something and she’s got this weird family history thing going on, but other than that, what do we really have? We know each other almost too well. There’s no mystery. I know she poops! I’ve pooped in her body which is maybe the weirdest thing I’ve ever said.”
“Not even close, Taehyung.”
“Whatever, hyung, you know what I mean. How can I be fluttery and nervous around her when I know that she gets gassy when she eats broccoli and banana milk makes her gag and she hates running but does it anyway, and I know the way everything moves and bounces. I know her whole body already.”
“Whoa, more information than I really need.”
“But these are old married people things to know is what I’m trying to say. These aren’t first-date things. How can you even have a relationship at all when you already know all the little details that make people too familiar to feel romantic?” Taehyung grabbed a spare beanie and began spinning it around his fingers.
“So you don’t want to have anything romantic with her? You’re not attracted to her in that way?”
“No, she’s not even my type. She’s not unattractive but she isn’t…” Taehyung stopped because he suddenly didn’t know what he was trying to say. It was true. She wasn’t his usual type. He didn’t even think she was pretty when he first saw her. He thought she was too big, too tall, her face not quite what he usually was drawn to, but now he didn’t feel like any of that was true anymore. She wasn’t too tall. She was just the right height for leaning in to kiss. She wasn’t too big. She was soft and perfect for snuggling. She wasn’t pretty in a delicate way. She was pretty in a bold and fascinating way.
“You’re thinking really hard over there. Don’t hurt yourself.” Namjoon was smirking at him but Taehyung didn’t care.
“Do you even believe in soulmates, hyung?”
“Sure. I don’t think everyone has one. No way everyone could be that lucky, but I think they exist.”
Taehyung took a deep breath, bit his lip and blew it out slowly as he asked the question that had been bugging him all night. “Do you think Sam could be mine? My soulmate?”
Namjoon held his gaze for an uncomfortably long time, just staring at him, as if he could read Taehyung’s mind through the erratic blinking.“She could be, yeah.”
Taehyung nodded solemnly. “Then I need to figure this out. Thanks for being here, hyung. I… I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, little dreamer. Now go to sleep yourself. We still have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Don’t waste this rare chance to rest. We won’t get too many of these before the comeback.”
Taehyung nodded obediently as he walked back to his room. He tried to list out the things he knew were true. One, he was sometimes, when their schedules allowed, dreaming of life through Sam’s eyes. Her life through her eyes. Two, he really liked doing that and her. He really liked her. Three, she was dreaming his life through his eyes. Suddenly he felt all the blood rush out of his face. She dreamed his life. He’d left her apartment, told her to get some rest, and then come to confess his feelings to Namjoon while wallowing in the destruction of Jungkook’s bed. It was hardly the most embarrassing thing he’d ever done while she was riding shotgun in his head, but it still had him fumbling for his phone to see if she’d sent the standard sleep warning.
Sure enough, there it was. The little emoticon of him, School Luv Affair era, in front of an cartoon moon and stars. Well fuck, he thought grimly. There was no way to salvage his dignity now. He walked out of his room and into the bathroom, flipping the light on and staring at his own reflection. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but he’d said enough to Namjoon that she would be able to fill in the blanks. Fuck.
“Hey there, uh, Sam.” He felt so stupid talking to himself but that didn’t stop him. “So, I… uh… hope you’re resting well. Sorry if I made things awkward tonight. I had a really good time. I said that already, right? Well, I did, and, I hope you did, too.” He squinted, leaning forward, searching his reflection, as though he might see some hint of Sam in his own eyes. “I don’t know how much of my talk with Namjoon you were here for, but, I guess we should, you know, talk some more, about stuff, if you want, tomorrow.” He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring and confident smile, though he felt neither confident nor reassured. He felt ridiculous and eager and excited and confused. He sighed and went back to collapse onto his bed. He wanted to sleep but his thoughts were spinning. He didn’t want to sleep because he didn’t want to dream his own dreams. He, very selfishly, wanted Sam to wake up so he could dream her life for a while, see if that brought any clarity to the situation.
What had she been thinking during the movie? Did she know how good it felt to have her fingers in his hair? Did she know how good it felt to just be close to her again? Was she startled when he kissed her nose? Did she know what he was going to say before he got interrupted by his phone? Did she know? It was all he wanted to know.
---
Samantha woke up slowly, the details of a strange nightmare involving some squid/hyena hybrid floating through her mind. It was early still. Not even four in the morning. She should go back to sleep, rolled over to get comfortable but then sat up quickly, grasping at the falling blankets and letting out a squeak as memories of her other dreams pushed themselves to the front of her mind. Her voice was still shot, but she stood up quickly, wrapping a blanket around her like a robe and tiptoed out to the living room to pace and freak out without worrying about waking Hyemi.
She’d laid in bed, certain that it would take her hours to fall asleep, with her heart still pounding from the chaste nose kiss and Kim Taehyung’s stupidly beautiful face. She was convinced that she would be wracked with guilt, tossing and turning while she berated herself for letting someone into the heart she’d promised to give to Matthew. Instead, she’d fallen asleep mid-scathing mental comment and dreamed of Taehyung, sitting on a bed covered in piles and piles of who knows what, talking to Namjoon. Confessing to Namjoon. Saying things he probably didn’t intend for her to hear, but he had to know she was sleeping. She’d sent the sleep warning. He himself had told her to get some rest.
But in the swirling mess of emotions she felt, her own and Taehyung’s all a tangled ball of fear and regret and doubt and nervousness and affection, she also felt the dawning mortification as he had the realization, checked his phone, and then talked to her in the mirror. She wanted to laugh, remembering when she’d done the same thing, but it wasn’t funny now. She knew and he knew she knew and it was all going to get messy.
She thought about texting him, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what she wanted to say. She wanted to take a shower, but she didn’t want to wake Hyemi up, so she shuffled to the kitchen to make some more tea. A watched pot never boils, she thought, but she and Taehyung were watching each other all the time. She looked at her phone and saw that Taehyung had finally decided to try sleeping about an hour ago. Was he watching her right now?
“Hi, Taehyung,” she whispered into the empty kitchen. She wished, not for the first time, that there was some way to know when he was in her head. A tingle or a tickle or a twitch that gave it away. She grabbed her tea, and Nana’s notebook, and headed to the couch to wrap up in her favorite blanket. For a moment she lost herself in thinking of the night before, sitting in this same spot, with Taehyung in her lap. She’d been warm and content and nervous.
If she wasn’t going to sleep, and since she couldn’t shower, she decided to add some more details to Nana’s notebook. She’d been avoiding putting her own story in here, not that she didn’t believe it, but it was more permanent if she wrote it down. She was still a little skittish of permanent things, but she didn’t think Taehyung was going away any time soon. She flipped through the pages, thinking of all the generations that had done this before her, without the benefits of technology. She wasn’t the first Dreamer to find herself dreaming in another language. At least she had the benefit of being conversationally fluent in that language.
She wondered what Taehyung really thought about all this, if he really did enjoy their connection as much as he said he did. She turned to a blank page and picked up a pen from the cup beside the couch. All the other accounts had started with a brief description of the tragedy that had caused the scar that had started the dreams. Some woman had scars that covered their whole palms, some lost fingers, or the whole hand. One had escaped a fire that had killed her whole family. In comparison, sometimes Samantha felt grateful for the relatively minor injury she’d suffered both to her hand and her heart. They didn’t feel minor to her, but she could at least now appreciate that there were worse things that could have happened.
She tapped the pen on the page. She wanted to keep things as simple as possible so she just wrote down the bare minimum of facts. February 13, 2014. Car accident. Fiance died, hand cut on metal of car door. She stared at the ink, wondering how so many emotions were contained in so few words. She had some distance from it now. In three months the second anniversary would roll around and she would spend it working instead of giggly and drunk. There was no way to know what she would be doing when the third anniversary came. Or the fourth.
She twirled the pen in her hands, contemplating what to write next. How much of this story was she willing to put down here for future generations to read, assuming she ever had a future generation to give it to? Maybe there was a distant relative out there somewhere who would need it. The idea of someday having a family of her own was still too painful to think about for long. Began dreaming of Kim Taehyung, Korean musician. It was true in the most minimal sense. She shut the book and put the pen away, unable to contemplate putting any more of this crazy story into words. What more was there to say?
She was slowly falling out of love with Matthew. The truth of it was sobering and she grabbed her tea, wrapping her fingers around the almost too hot ceramic, drinking too fast, hoping the heat would help erase the chill settling in her bones. She still loved him so much it hurt when she thought of all the things she’d never get to do again, but a part of her recognized the truth that she wasn’t really in love with him anymore. That hurt too. More than she thought it would, because if that were true, then shouldn’t there be more healing, more distance and space and less searing guilt in the pit of her stomach?
She set her mug down and pulled her shaking hands, still warm, in and wrapped them around her elbows, squeezing herself tightly, as though to hold the pieces of herself together. She chewed on her bottom lip and tried to just let the tears fall without holding them back. She knew, from more experience than she wanted to, that the full body sobs would come in time and it hurt less in the morning if she didn’t fight them. It wasn’t quite like losing him all over again, but just like the decision to move her ring to her right hand, it felt like letting him go.
It was too early to grab the tissues, but she did it anyway, clutching one in each fist in preparation for when her nose decided to join the party and start running. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know if Taehyung was still asleep or not, if he was here, dreaming this moment. She wanted to reassure him that she was fine, that this crying wasn’t his fault or anything. But it was sort of his fault. If he hadn’t snuggled up to her on the couch, she wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about how nice it was to be touching someone again. She wouldn’t have been so satisfied and comfortable that when Taehyung leaned in, her first thought was to lean in too, meet him halfway, and maybe it was only the mask that stopped her.
Wasn’t that just what Taehyung had said? That he’d nearly kissed her, but stopped because of the mask. That was a surprise. It would change everything, wouldn’t it? She was honestly surprised that she had even considered it. Kissing him. Health concerns aside, she couldn’t even imagine what it would be like. He was so delicate and pretty, nearly the opposite of Matthew’s square-jaw and broad shoulders. Taehyung had so much swagger and charisma on stage and yet she knew the truth of his goofy, off the wall personality off stage, the flights of fancy that left him quiet and serious. He’d also said that she wasn’t his type and that he didn’t find her attractive, which she knew already. She already knew him better than she had known Matthew when they’d kissed for the first time after a midnight showing of “Rocky Horror Picture Show” that had left him blushing and flustered, just like the Brad on screen.
Thinking about their first kiss helped her smile through the tears, but all too quickly it brought to mind memories of their last kiss, at a stop light on some tiny San Francisco street, the lights glittering on wet pavement, Matthew laughing as he pulled on her sleeve to coax her closer. It hadn’t been a heated kiss, not like the way he’d kissed her under the foggy night sky, as though trying to ignite a fire under her skin to keep the February chill at bay. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she thought, for what must be the thousandth time, about how things would have been different if they’d ever made it to that hotel, how she would be different now. Really, nothing would be different, other than maybe having some peace about not missing out on something, or maybe the knowledge of what she was missing would be worse. She had never come to a definite conclusion on that topic.
She sniffled and began the work of wiping up her face. She looked up guiltily when Hyemi opened the door to the bedroom. “Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, voice still croaking and cracking.
“I think that was supposed to be English, but I’m too tired to figure it out. Scoot over.” Hyemi sat heavily on her end of the couch, tipping over to rest limply on the arm of the couch. “So, why are we awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Woke up from a nightmare and made some tea,” Samantha whispered.
Hyemi made some noises that might have been mumbled acknowledgement, but it was hard to tell. They sat in silence for a while while Hyemi slowly blinked her way to consciousness. “Did I miss it?” she mumbled a few minutes later.
“Miss what, friend?” Her voice hardly cracked at all.
“The part where you need me? Did I miss it?”
“Oh, that.” Samantha ran her fingers through her hair, pulling on the strands while she gathered her thoughts. “No, I don't think so. I was just thinking.”
“About Matthew?”
“Mostly. Also about Taehyung. Tonight was a little confusing. He was just so warm and near to me and it was nice, but then--”
Hyemi sat up suddenly. “Samantha! I told you to stay home!”
“I did! I stayed right here in this couch. Taehyung came here. Apparently your address is on file because I live here. Crazy security. Anyway, he came with soup--”
“Kim Taehyung was in my home? Did he bring Hobi?” Hyemi asked, shaking Samantha’s arm.
“No, he just brought soup. And masks. And we watched a movie on the couch.”
“My couch? Kim Taehyung was on my couch?”
“Yes, he sat right where you’re sitting.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was coming over! What kind of friend are you?”
“I didn’t know he was coming over! You think I would invite him here, when I’m sick? I looked like twice-warmed death, I’m sure, and he shows up in his stupidly good looking wool coat, carrying soup like some sort of kpop Florence Nightingale.”
“Who?”
“Nevermind. It was a surprise to me is all I’m saying. And it wasn’t really a big deal. He just watched Tazza 2 and then he left.” Hyemi eyed her skeptically and Samantha felt her cheeks growing warm. “We sat on the couch and he kinda used my lap for a pillow. And maybe I ran my fingers through his hair.” Samantha wished her voice would give out again so she would have a legitimate excuse to quit talking but the worst seemed to be over. She silently cursed the healing effects of tea and bit her lip while Hyemi glared at her.
“You snuggled him?”
“No. He snuggled me.”
“And you were a willing participant?”
“Yes! It felt nice! I miss cuddling!”
“Alright, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“And then he sort of kissed me,” Samantha mumbled into her mostly empty mug of tea.
“You’re going to have to say that again because I thought you said he kissed you.” Lips pursed, arms crossed, Hyemi was every bit as intimidating as Samantha’s own mother would have been in this situation. Samantha just nodded as she set her mug down.
“On my nose. Over the mask, so no risk of contamination or anything. It wasn’t a big deal, it was just a spur of the moment thing, a whim, just a silly impulse.” She tangled and untangled the fringe of the blanket, hoping the words sounded truer to Hyemi than they felt to her.
“He, on a whim, decided to kiss your nose.” Hyemi’s eyebrows had climbed all the way up her forehead.
“Yes, and then he left and I went to bed.”
“Where you writhed in guilty agony for hours before dropping into an exhausted sleep, torturing yourself over something that logically makes no sense?”
Samantha glared at her overly perceptive friend, feeling smug satisfaction in being able to say, “Actually, I fell right asleep. Oh, put your eyebrows away, it’s true and it surprised the hell out of me, too. I thought I’d be awake all night but I passed right out.” She tugged on her hair again, struggling to put words to the things she’d seen and felt.
“Did you dream of him? Don’t just nod at me, say something!” Hyemi bopped her on the knee with a spare pillow, one of the red flowered ones Samantha had brought from Chicago, a silly space-devouring indulgence.
“Yeah, I dreamed he was talking to Namjoon. About me.”
“Oooh! Eavesdropping in the best, creepiest way! Did he know you were there?”
“Apparently not until later.”
“Didn’t you send the thingy? Your ‘sleeping now’ thingy?”
“I did, but I guess he missed it? I don’t know, what I remember is walking up some stairs, into the dorm, heading straight to Namjoon’s room and making a space to sit on Jungkook’s bed.”
Hyemi uncrossed her arms, reaching out to hold Samantha’s hand, her smaller hand wrapped around the fist that was holding onto the tissues. “So what did he say? To Namjoon, what did he say? What has you out here spinning your wheels before dawn?”
“Lots of things.” She shrugged. “About how he couldn’t put Bangtan at risk by dating me, how he wanted to protect me, that he likes me, some stuff about soulmates and I’m not his type, there’s no mystery because we know each other too well, like old married people with no romance--”
“Wait, hold up, rewind, he likes you? He said that? He said he likes you?”
“Yes, but he also said that I wasn’t his type, so I don’t know what to believe.”
“Who gives a shit about type? People are going to fall in love with whoever they want, type or not.”
“No one is talking about love, Hyemi. I am not in love with Taehyung.”
“I know, I know. You still love Matthew,” Hyemi said softly, squeezing her hand. Samantha bit her lip to keep it from trembling.
“Yeah I do, but not as much as I used to.” Her voice broke again, and the tears were back. She tried to wipe at them with the back of her hand, ignoring the tissues crumpled in her fists. “Or not in the same way, I guess.”
“But that’s a good thing, right?” Hyemi asked, stroking her arm gently. Samantha just nodded and cried harder.
“I’m not happy about it though. A part of me just wants to go on loving him just like I did forever, let my heart just be the way it was and never, ever change, even though I know that’s ridiculous and that actually really hurts a lot and isn’t how I want to live my life, but I just can’t think about loving somebody else right now either.”
“But you said it, Sam, no one is talking about love. Taehyung said he likes you, that’s all. He’s not asking you to run away and marry him. Actually, he’s kind of perfect for you.”
“Don’t start with the Adele thing again.” Samantha rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself.
“No, I’m serious. This kind of relationship is actually perfect. He’s super busy, so you wouldn’t be spending a ton of time together, so you have no choice but to take things slow. Unlike every other long distance relationship, you two can actually stay really closely connected even when you’re not trying, because of the dreams thing, so all the texting and phone calls is just a bonus.” Hyemi was grinning and nodding enthusiastically, obviously pleased at her own assessment.
“I’m glad you’ve got all that figured out, but that doesn’t sound any different than what we’re doing now.”
“It’s not! That’s why it’s so brilliant! You just keep doing what you’re doing, only now you’re doing it in a more than friends kind of way. He did say he likes you, right?”
“And that he wanted to kiss me.”
“Seriously? You lucky little--”
“But I can’t do that.” Samantha shook her head, tears leaving little drops on her pajamas.
“Someday, I’m sure you can. You’re probably not going to spend the rest of your life single and alone, you know.”
“No, I mean I can’t kiss Taehyung. If the public ever found out…” Samantha watched as the blood drained from Hyemi’s face. “Right? Rich white girl from the American suburbs? The symbol of thousands of years of shitty oppression and awful behavior? Hell, they crucified G Dragon for dating a Japanese girl but at least she was still Asian. I’m the kind of scandal that could end his career. No one would believe the dreaming stuff. All they would see is some entitled bitch taking whatever she wants. I mean, isn’t that the whole reason I turned him down when he offered to use Hobi’s connections to find me a dance team in the city?”
“Actually, he first offered to sneak you into their offices so you could practice with Son Sungdeuk.”
“Right, but if that was going to be a problem, too much taking advantage of him and his fame, then this is...too much. Way too much. You know I’m right.”
“Shit, you are right. I guess I never really thought about all the practical implications and stuff, but fuck, it would be a disaster.”
“A nightmare, for both of us. They would hate whoever he decided to date eventually, but wouldn’t it be worse with me? They would find every unflattering picture out there, and there are plenty, and make me into a national joke. Just another fat American ruining life for the rest of the world.”
“But you’re not--”
“It doesn’t matter what I am. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done to try to be respectful and learn about your culture and life. It just doesn't because no matter what, I’m still just some white girl as far as anyone in the press is concerned. I don't have any business dating an idol. A foreigner messing around with a kpop idol is flat out disaster. They would destroy Taehyung for not choosing any one of the millions of nice Korean girls out there, and they’re kind of right. He should choose one of them.”
“He didn’t choose you though. Fate did!”
“And if this were a drama, that would be enough, wouldn’t it? But it’s not.” It was Hyemi’s turn to nod and chew her lip.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, really. What else can we do?” Samantha shrugged, feeling the disappointment settle in her stomach, like giving up on a dream before it even has a chance to come true.
“I don’t know, but don’t just make decisions on your own. Talk to him about it. Promise me you’ll at least do that much?”
“I solemnly swear,” Samantha said, holding her hand to her heart.
“Good. Now, let’s go back to sleep. It’s Saturday.”
---
“So, we should talk about stuff.”
“Yeah, except I don’t really want to get into it right now.”
“Sam, please, let me explain.”
“No, don’t. You need to focus on the concert and the comeback.”
“The concert is in two weeks. You want to leave this to fester for that long? Can’t we just talk about this and get it over with?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t think there is an ‘over with’ we can get. I think it’s just going to be awkward and make things awkward and nothing will change so let’s just not talk about it and then nothing will change and it won’t be awkward. That’s a win for everyone involved.”
“I’m sorry I made things awkward.”
“You didn’t make things awkward. Things just are awkward. Let’s not make them more awkward.”
“So, just because I can’t hang out tonight, you’re going to put this whole thing off until… when?”
“I don’t know, but let me think about it for a while. Let me figure out what I want to say.”
“Are you going to do that? Really think about what you want to say or are you going to ignore it and hope it goes away? Are you going to run away from me like you’ve run away from everything else in your life?”
“I don’t know, Taehyung! I’m going to do something and whatever I do it will be on my own, on my own time and you don’t get to change that.”
“Fine. You think as long as you need to I guess. I’ll go back to working my ass off and not worrying about you.”
“That’s what I wanted in the first place!”
“Well it’s not what I want at all.”
“You can’t always get what you want, Taehyung.”
“But apparently you can. I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”
“Fine. Bye.”