Chapter Text
Babbles of incoherent murmurs slip mindlessly from Jeongguk’s sleeping pouting mouth, his legs stretching against his will to discover the cold and undisturbed sheets pooling around his frame. He groans almost sadly, eyes unwilling to open but body working against his sleepy desire to stay asleep; mimicking a newborn evicted from the comfort of the womb housing them to be shoved outside into this cruel world. The telltale signs of his rest being disturbed by an outside force.
The cause of the disturbance is familiar as it becomes clearer in the silence of the room, excluding the twenty-year-old’s babyish grumbles. There’s shuffling of feet, shoes being caught in the carpet to snug rather noisily in the complete silence. Rustling from fabric being handled, metallic rings colliding with each other resonating loudly in Jeongguk’s sensitive ears. His bottom lip juts out immaturely. What the hell was going on around him?
His eyelids flutter despite the effort to keep them clenched tightly. He pulls a frown in preparation for the sunlight to assault him, peeking through his tired swollen eyes at his mother shuffling the curtains closed. A deeper frown of confusion begins marring his sleep ridden feature as his brain can barely register the sight. “Mom?” his slurred whisper is all he can muster, hoping that the question for her to explain her actions was also heard.
As his sleep drunken voice further breaches the silence, the woman looks over her shoulder to the source, a soft smile crossing her red stained lips as she finishes up her initial task. “Good morning.” She greets him quite pleasantly, focusing all her attention to her son before sauntering her way over to his bed. Jeongguk attempts to sit up, but she shushes him, gently carding her fingers through his dark long locks to encourage him back down. She rewards him with a kiss on his forehead, and he thinks -puzzled- this isn’t really like her.
His mother was more doting than his father, admittedly, but in the long run, that wasn’t really a fair comparison. Her priority was providing for him. She made sure he wanted for nothing, within reason, and often opened up his father’s wallet to ensure so. But her obsession lied with his health, and often times she couldn’t see past that. If he was safe and healthy as can be, then she had done her job. That was her love language. But she wasn’t the overly affectionate type of woman.
She caressed, yes, even meddled in his hair, since she preferred it long, but kisses and hugs were far and few in between. He’d often thought that she simply needed to touch, feel that her son was real every once-in-a-while. Outside of that was usually instinctive and unplanned.
Hugs and kisses were usually reserved for when paired with bad news. But she seemed too chipper to gear towards that direction.
“You don’t have to get up just yet. Suran won’t be here for another three hours. I was just tidying up a bit before I left.” She informs him quietly before detangling her fingers from his soft wavy hair. A part of him was relieved he had more time to rest before his in-home nurse arrived for her shift today. It wasn’t until then that he really took his mother in, her neat and pressed work attire registering slowly in his muddled mind. He hummed in acknowledgement.
Now this was a little more routine. His mother usually drowned herself into her work and research the second she was able when she was upset with his father. It was almost as if her work validated the stances she often took up with the man. Really, it seemed like an excuse to run from whatever problems that lied between her and his father, but he really had no right to speak on their marital issues. If anything, he was envious that he couldn’t run away from them when he was irked enough, too.
“But… why did you close my curtains?” His voice was still groggy with sleep, his question almost sounding like a whine. He was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open and himself engaged in conversation he initiated. But his windows were his pride, he melted when he was submerged in sunlight, even if he couldn’t directly feel the sun’s warmth. His mother knew this much already. Which poses the question again, why? It just seemed beside herself to go out of the way to close it.
“The new neighbors make me uncomfortable. They seem a little rowdy. I think it’ll be best to keep your curtains closed in the meantime.” She briefly explains offhandedly like the consequence of her suspicions doesn’t affect Jeongguk in the slightest. It angered Jeongguk for her to act so causally as if it were no big deal to him, the younger attempting to scowl, but really he was confused. He didn’t get that impression from any of them at all. But his mother simply coos at his sleepy and confused pout.
“I don’t want them leering in on you. Especially the blond one.” She grumbles more so to herself than anything. Jeongguk’s heart kickstarts in recognition. His mother knew about Yoongi. And for whatever reason, had a grudge against him already. If only she knew what he was up to last night. He gulped down his rising nerves and tried not to make any admissions of guilt. There’s no way his mother knew he had been in contact–
Jeongguk’s mind wanders to his father, wondering if the man had thrown him and/or Yoongi under the bus during their arguments last night. It wasn’t beneath the man, but then his mother wouldn’t have been so calm with him this morning. If anything, she was being overtly kind to prevent a fit from him in reaction to him being demanded to keep his drapes closes.
His head starts nagging at the left of his temple and he openly groans again, finding refuge under his blanket as he snuggles deeper into the comforter. His head was whirling, and he was overthinking too early in the morning. It was obvious she had a dislike for the men across the way, but he wanted no part in that. “Go back to bed. I want you prompt for when Suran comes.” She instructs before ruffling his throbbing head in silent goodbye, Jeongguk watching his mother between pinched sheets as she closes the bedroom door behind herself softly.
He tears his gaze away, finally, before resting upon the curtains blocking the rising sun from his view. But they were also blocking his entryway into Yoongi room, and the tips of his ears flush.
For the first time since Jeongguk could remember, he thought about disobeying his mother’s wishes, and heart clenches tightly in guilt. He buries himself beneath the covers -head and all- and suppresses a mouthful of profanities from spilling past his lips. Through his heavy breathing and bitter tears, sleep once again consumes him.
___
Jeongguk blinked at his reflection drearily, toothpaste foaming around the corners of his mouth as he continued brushing his teeth thoroughly. His body was well rested, but he was mentally exhausted. Since he opened his eyes this morning, he felt conflicted, fighting an internal battle inside his head on whether or not he would once again submit to his mother’s whims, or make that conscious decision to be disobedient.
Never in his entire life had he ever even thought about doing anything against his mother’s wishes. He always understood the gravity of importance his obedience cost him, so he listened, and listened well. He knew it was for his own good, but what harm would come from having his curtains open? For the first time in his life, he doubted his mother and her intentions.
Jeongguk finishes with a rinse, turning the facet cold to splash across his hardened face. He sighed, gripping the sides of the porcelain sink for strength. He knew losing control over his window nook view wasn’t the only thing that made him upset about the situation. He knew a part of himself was mad about how she had degraded his new friend and family, even if unknowingly. Those were her true feelings about the next door neighbors, and now he knew there was no way in hell she would approve of any type of communication between them.
Jeongguk was too afraid to advocate for Yoongi. He didn’t really know the man well enough to speak on his behalf. But he wasn’t a hooligan, that much Jeongguk was certain of. It seemed more and more every day the slack of his leash tightened to the point of imitating a noose. He was nearly suffocating under his mother’s control, but her grip was unrelenting.
Jeongguk was becoming fed up with being voiceless. He knew better now. As of yesterday, he blossomed into a young man. He should be trusted enough to make his own decisions while staying within his limitations.
Gazing outside of his window was harmless.
Talking to Yoongi was harmless.
And yet, when he walked into his room, eyes wandering over every corner concealed in darkness, the sunlight being shielded by those forsaken drapes, he doesn’t bother to open them. His shoulders droop and his butt plows down at the foot of his bed, sulking. His mother’s voice was taunting him in the back of his mind, telling him without room for debate what she expected of him. And much like always, he followed through.
A soft knock against his doorframe pulls him out of his pout, his eyes landing on the source of intrusion. He smiled warm and wide at the sight of his nurse, Suran, standing there waiting with an amused smirk. He stands to greet her, taking in the sight of her sanitized hand carrying a small lilac bag, it’s contents concealed by recycled newspapers.
He gawks in surprise and Suran laughs, the strands of her pulled-up hair falling into her face from seemingly appreciating the received reaction. “Happy Belated, Bunny Boy.” She wishes the younger, Jeongguk relieving the bag from her hands gratefully while rolling his eyes at the silly nickname. “Your father let me in on his way out.” She informs before ushering him out of his room.
Jeongguk hums in acknowledgement, following the woman down the stairs to the back of the house, revealing the sunroom’s open floor plan area. It was utilized mainly as Jeongguk’s personal living room, but also as where he and Suran convened for his daily rounds of medication and vital checks. It was designated for him mostly to stay out of his father’s way, since the family room was sperate in the front side of the house. But besides a few medical equipment wandering around, it was pretty much Jeongguk’s stolen area of luxuries.
The space was fully illuminated from the surrounding windows, the thick glass reaching the floor and touching the ceiling, much alike the others, separated only by the multitude of window panes. What made the sunroom unique were the windows adoring the rooftops, allowing an abundance of sunlight to pour in. He was shocked to see the mechanically controlled blinds pushed up and open, meaning Suran must have opened them before stopping by his bedroom.
He choses not to comment on it. It’s not like Suran can chart his numbers in the dark, and since he didn’t open it, he doesn’t worry about his mother’s dismay. “Thank you.” Jeongguk shares his gratitude honestly, lowering himself to a beanbag seat. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” He mumbles, embarrassed but delighted from the attention.
She smiles fondly, “Of course I did. You’re a man now. It’s only natural.” She waves him away dismissively, and he smiles at his lap. He really didn’t crave a present, but he wasn’t going to be ungrateful and reject the contained item. “But actually, that one isn’t from me.” She confesses, making Jeongguk look over at the nurse curiously.
She chuckles before gesturing the younger to straighten his arm out. He does so without much fuss, the quicker they get it done the quicker he can get his answers. She wraps the blood pressure cuff around his bicep, cracking a quick joke about his muscling physic before turning on the machine. Jeongguk hums a tune in his head as the cuff tightens around his arm, keeping still and quiet until the pressure is exhaust. Suran charts the numbers before finally giving the patient young man a mischievous glint.
“Well, if you’re so curious...” She teases some more, causing the ravenette to groan childishly. She laughs fully before continuing, “Actually, as I was coming to the door, some cutie waved me down, just begging for my attention.” She begins in the same gossipy tone she usually carries when reciting her ordeals. “For a moment, I thought he was going to proposition me.” She states rather distractedly, wiggling her eyebrows to draw a giggle from Jeongguk. “But atlas, he asked me to hand-deliver that gift to you, directly.” She concludes, finally.
Past all the dramatics of her retelling, Jeongguk thinks he has an idea of who Suran might be referring to, and the prospects made his tummy do something funny. The heat on his cheeks must become visible, because Suran ‘ah’s’ as she ruffles the ravenette’s long hair. “Hey, I won’t ask you to divulge the details, but you might want to be careful, aye? You know how strict your mother can be.” She warns softly, accepting Jeongguk’s nod for what it was as he keeps the lilac bag close to his side.
Suran eyes him for a moment, as if holding him under some type of analyzation. Jeongguk gulps and hopes his guilty expression isn’t so noticeable. “Please, don’t tell my mother about this. Or my father. I promise I’m being careful. I’m old enough to handle myself and manage my condition.” He ultimately pleads, and its not the first time he’s pleaded with the nurse to store some knowledge for herself.
His mother was quite fond of Suran, despite her young age and greenness to the field. She followed his plan of care to the exact, no matter how repetitive or time consuming it sometimes was. The report she’d give to his mother was always thorough to every last detail, his mother almost felt as if she hadn’t missed out at all. Suran was diligent, has been for the last eight years, and his mother liked that. But of course, spending eight-hours together five days a week since Jeongguk was twelve, brought the two closer than her alliance to his mother.
Jeongguk viewed the older woman like a mischievous older sister. She didn’t allow him to break the rules, but she also didn’t oppress him further. If it wasn’t in direct conflict with his health or her job, then she usually never minded helping the younger cover up a secret or two. She’d never let him skip out on his medication or vital check, never allowed him to skip a meal, never let him jeopardize his health. But she’d let him sleep an extra thirty minutes, let him eat the junk food she’d bring for her own lunch, let him vent about his exhaustion with the same regiment.
Each time she was lenient, he’d beg her not to tattle to his mother. And as far as he knew, she never had.
Suran’s expression was unchanging at Jeongguk’s request, and he worried that this might be different than the normal circumstances she’d let slide. A grin breaks out on her lips, and she nods, agreeing, making Jeongguk feel instantly relieved. “I trust you to know what you’re doing. You know how far is too far. If you prove me wrong though–”
“I won’t.” Jeongguk ensures without hesitating. He wanted this, and what was worse was that he wanted it behind his mother’s back. As Suran sat there, unknowingly validating his feelings of opposition, he was beginning to feel less guilt about it. She had trusted him like he trusted himself, how he wished his mother and father would.
“Well open it! Don’t leave me in suspense!” She encourages, and his cheeks pinken again at the sudden assault of butterflies. He was flustered and being under the scope wasn’t helping.
Despite himself, he plucks the newspapers away, article by article. There’s a bubble rumbling from within him as he nears the bottom of the bag, and its only then that he wonders what on earth could Yoongi have gifted him? The two have only known each other less than twenty-four hours now, so the fact that the platinum blond prioritized getting him anything at all was amazing.
Soon enough, his digging revealed a petite white projector coupled alongside a charger adaptor and USB cord. Jeongguk pulled it out swiftly for further inspection, barely able to contain his own excitement as Suran ‘ouh’s’ at the present. “It’s one of those LED moonlight/stars projectors! It’s supposed to flow around the room like you’re in space, and you can even choose different colors and such.” She informs the younger briefly before smiling widely. “Wow, this is so you!” She celebrates, nodding in approval as she searches up the advertisement for said projector on her cell phone. Jeongguk can’t help but nod in agreeance, his eyes widened in pure amazement as he fondles with the small projector in his hands carefully while spectating the advertisement.
“Wow.” Is all Jeongguk can say, he was practically speechless. He couldn’t believe he didn’t know of these things until now, or else he’d beg relentlessly for permission to have every room he could littered with them. He had a passionate gravitation towards the stars that scattered the night sky. He embraced the moonlight that shone into his room like a bright light. There couldn’t have been a more perfect gift out there for him.
To think Yoongi gathered as much just from a simple conversation about how he liked to watch the sky. It was such a minuscule detail to remember. It was really a throwaway comment, nothing Jeongguk would have imagined coming up again.
“I need to thank him.” Jeongguk mutters next, voice still thick in surprise as his gleaming eyes meet Suran’s. His hands were restless as he gripped along the sphere sides possessively. Protectively. Yes. He needed to thank the man with the bright pretty name for gifting him the stars.
Suran smiles kindly before nodding, “I think a ‘thank you’ is in order. But before you run off, let me give you my present too.” She bargains, and Jeongguk’s eyes widened even more. So, she did give him a gift after all. “Now, it’s not as extraordinary as that, but I’m still confident you’ll like it.” She begins to explain, digging into her scrub top pockets to produce a blue sticky note.
Jeongguk blinks in confusion when she offers the sticky to him, but he still takes it, nonetheless.
PASSWORD: SUGAR_BUNNY_BOY
Again, Jeongguk rolls his doe eyes at the rejected nickname that seemed to stick throughout the years, but mild annoyance at reading the name on the note didn’t help him comprehend what it was supposed to mean. He scrunches his face up in confusion, tilting his head curiously at the nurse for further explanation. “What you’re holding is the password to my Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ account.” Suran announces rather smugly, and Jeongguk can’t help but laugh out a huge smile.
“You’re giving me your accounts?!” he asks in disbelief. He thinks then she was right to still be confident in her gift to him. Jeongguk had a cell phone, a tablet, and a computer, but the devices limitations were stunted significantly. He was allowed to use his tablet for mobile games, but his computer was strictly for studies. And he only had a cell phone to have direct line of contact with his mother, father, and Suran in cases of emergencies. His mother didn’t like him watching too much television as is, not wanting him to get wrapped up in a reality that wasn’t his and act irrationally because of it. So it was obvious that neither of his parents invested in streaming cites.
“I’m giving you a profile on my accounts.” Suran clarified, emphasizing ‘profile’ so that there were no misunderstandings. Jeongguk snickers, but nods adamantly in understanding. “It’s up to you not to get caught because I will deny, deny, deny.” She warns playfully, causing Jeongguk to giggle again. There was so much he couldn’t wait to watch. He loved reading, but he was tired of his dense library selection. This will keep him ripe with entertainment for months.
“Thank you!” he belts before bringing her in for a quick embrace. They finish up their daily routine without much fuss from Jeongguk, which seemed like a first time in forever for Suran. He was buzzing in too much excitement from everything, he didn’t even complain while swallowing his pills. He simply showed the underside of his tongue to Suran before rushing back up the stairs when she hummed in dismissal.
“Don’t get too comfortable! I’ll be coming up there to change your bedding and! – okay, never mind you’re already gone.” Suran huffs before staring out the window, the neighboring house coming in perfect view.
___
After closing the door softly for privacy, Jeongguk fishes his cellphone out of his pocket. His eyes wander absent-mindedly to the curtains, hating the sense of entrapment he found within them. The window alcove is supposed to be his safe place, somewhere he could replenish his sanity. It was perfectly designed for his optimal comfort, both physically and mentally, and now it was being temporarily torn away from him until further notice. And somehow, Jeongguk was supposed to be fine with the decision. Lie down and accept his mother’s choice as is.
As much as he didn’t agree with it, as much as he wanted to deny his mother this simple thing, Jeongguk couldn’t find it in himself to open them to bask in the filtered light. He forfeits once again, allowing his mother to win via tap-out. His body free-falls to crash land safely against the pillowy comforter decorating his bed, staring up at his ceiling in dissatisfaction. The bleak thing paled in comparison to the vividly blue, summer sky. He clutched the gifted projector to his chest tightly.
Jeongguk knew yearning for a more delectable sight wasn’t going to make him feel any better about the situation, so instead he redirects his attention to his cellular device, allowing the phone screen to block his dimly lit ceiling. He squints automatically, the light emitting from the screen harsh and unnatural, nearly illuminating the shadowy bedroom.
He muscles through his discomfort, opening his contact list, smiling when his eyes find the platinum blond’s contact instantly. “Yoongi.” Jeongguk mutters softly into the wide vacant space of his room, and he feels his neck heating with embarrassment. Jeongguk knew he loved the blond’s name, just like he knew he loved seeing it in his list of contacts even more.
Jeongguk had watched that man from afar for only a few hours, yet the blond’s mannerisms and hidden charms elicited a far-fetched desire from Jeongguk to interact with the man personally. He had no idea the night would lead him to where it did, having fruitful conversation with a man he was supposed to deem a stranger. To say he was looking forward to future chats would be an understatement, and much unlike his window alcove view, he wasn’t going to let them go so easily.
He clicks the call icon and waits, nibbling at his lip as it rings, rings, and rings. For a moment, he debates with himself about ending the call, because calling like this was different. There was no invitation to converse with the platinum blond this time. Jeongguk was taking his own initiative to reach out, and he was concerned that he was overstepping an unfounded boundary now that his previous adrenaline was fading. There were no visual reassurances from the man, no encouraging gestures, no patient smiles. Jeongguk was acting off of instinct versus instruction, and it was an odd feeling to endure.
Not that it was unpleasant. His heart was pounding, thudding in weighted anticipation as the dial-tone continued to ring.
Before he could do anything irrational, like ending the phone call while it was still in progress, the end of the other line picks up. There was rustling bleeding through in static before incoherent conversation was picked up by the cell phone speaker from the background. A sudden breath welcomed Jeongguk’s awaiting ear through the receiver, seemingly signaling the phone finally being brought to its proper place for communications. “Hello? Jeongguk?” The familiar voice is brought to the forefront, canceling out all other sound.
Once again, Jeongguk’s blush spreads throughout his body, rising to his cheeks from flattery at the blond’s instant recognition. For Jeongguk, it only proved to solidify the newly forming connection between the two. It made it seem less one-sided when the other used such enthusiastic efforts like this. “Hey. Um, sorry to call you like this. I hope it isn’t a bad time.” Jeongguk considers consciously.
“No, its not.” Yoongi clarifies before chuckling softly. There’s light shuffling heard from the blond’s side of the line, the man seemingly on the move as he speaks on the phone. “Actually, I was beginning to think that I might have scared you away.” The platinum blond jokes, although Jeongguk can hear a pinched nervous undertone. The ravenette was shocked at the insecurity, if anything, he feared that he’d be the one that dissuaded the older from further communicating.
Jeongguk vocalizes as such. “If anything, I thought I’d be the one to frighten you. With my staring and all,” he easily explains, and to his surprise he elicits laughter from the older. Humor was contagious when it was easygoing like this, so Jeongguk joined in. “Why’d you think I was scared to call?” Jeongguk inquires, tracing the face of the projector resting against his chest absent-mindedly.
“I don’t know.” Yoongi drawls, his tone alluding to more, but obviously a bit reluctant to. “Last night, I don’t know. It was a lot, I guess?” the blond trails off like he was asking the ravenette to agree with him. However, Jeongguk didn’t agree and instead waited for further elaboration. “I don’t know. I kind of got the impression that maybe I made you uncomfortable.” Yoongi admits, before quickly adding, “I am glad you called again. Any more time and I probably would have called you to apologize.”
Jeongguk’s jaw physically drops as a defensive frown sets onto his brows. “I wasn’t uncomfortable.” He declares, his tone leaving no room for confusion. “I was moved by your testimony. I loved the conversation you facilitated between us. I know I didn’t say much, but your words were comforting. I very much enjoyed our talks yesterday and was very much looking forward to today’s chat, too.” Jeongguk admits unabashedly, even though that sweltering heat of embarrassment was flowing through his body. He felt he owed the blond that much honesty, all things considered. He didn’t want the man fretting over it.
“Sharing my tears was my choice. I hope we can share more together in the future.” Jeongguk adds, clutching the sphere edges of the projector as he waited with bated breath for the other response.
There was an instant breath of relief, a fond chuckle following close behind. “I look forward to it.” Yoongi concurs easily, unaware of the stupidly wide smile that spreads across Jeongguk’s face because of it. “Did anything interesting happen to you today?” Yoongi sudden asks, tone treading a cautious line, almost as if not to spoil the gimmick. It causes Jeongguk to giggle, hugging the ‘interesting’ device closer to his chest in delight. The blond’s giggles follow in suit. “It seems to me, maybe so.” He confirms confidently.
“Actually, it’s why I’m calling. I wanted to thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.” Jeongguk rightfully shows gratitude to the blond’s generosity. Yet, he couldn’t help the slight guilty feeling that dawns him for burdening the older. “Really, it’s too much.” He praises bittersweetly.
“Nonsense. Once I found out it was your birthdate, I couldn’t not get you something. It’s nothing new or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve had that around for a while but stopped using it ages ago. When I came across it while unpacking, it made me think of you. I thought, maybe you could put it to better use than I.” Yoongi explains, Jeongguk analyzing his present with starlight in his eyes. Somehow, hearing that the platinum blond previously owned this himself made it all the more meaningful to Jeongguk, regardless of it being handed down to him.
“It’s perfect, Yoongi. I really have no words for how grateful I am. This was really thoughtful.” Jeongguk accepts sincerely, his smile practically verbal to the other. To think this stemmed from something so trivial, too. It made the words he spoke to the blond seem all the more valued. He liked Yoongi’s attentiveness.
“Sorry I couldn’t wrap it up in something more appropriate for the occasion. I just used what we had hanging around here. I promise that it’s still in prime condition. I take great care of my belongings, no matter how abandoned they become.” Yoongi needlessly apologizes, which Jeongguk shakes his head disagreeing. It was only then that he remembered that the two could not see each other like last night.
“It’s perfect, Yoongi. I promise.” Jeongguk reiterates with finality, causing the blond to audible gush on his end, though he easily excuses it for a cough. Jeongguk simply chuckles disbelieving but accepts the reasoning for what it was.
There was a calm silence that bestowed the two men, but neither felt the insistent need to break it. Though Jeongguk could only stare up at his ceiling, he had the tenderest expression plastered across his face, his heart filled with content while his finger meaninglessly traces along the face of the white projector. He briefly acknowledges that the contentment doesn’t come from being shaded in the darkness of his room with nothing meaningful to gaze at, but because he imagined Yoongi doing the same thing too. Hell, it was because he was simply talking to Yoongi that made him so fond.
“Can I see you?” the question is sudden and rips the peaceful reprieve right from below Jeongguk, the ravenette nearly choking on the sharply inhaled saliva choked back at his uvula. Yoongi hurriedly asks if the younger man was okay, to which Jeongguk nodded uselessly as he continued to choke.
After the embarrassingly long ordeal, Jeongguk settles, calmly breathing in through his nose and out past his mouth. “Yoongi–” he begins to breathe out, but before he could continue, Suran gives three courtesy knocks against his door before allowing herself in. She greets him with a smile, lifting a bucket of cleaning supplies and vacuum for him to read her intentions.
“Hey, Bunny. I’m going to ask that you take your ‘activities’ downstairs for a bit until I finish up in your room.” She asks kindly, though the routine is nothing new to both of them. She was made to stay on top of his ‘sanitations’ after all, though most days he felt his mother used Suran’s assistances as a glorified housemaid.
Jeongguk offers a tight-lipped smile and an acknowledging head-nod to her patiently waiting frame, holding on conversing further with the blond man until he politely excuses himself out of his own room to head for the descend down the stairs. Once he’s confident he’s out of earshot, he finally replies to the waiting older. “Okay. Meet me downstairs, behind my house.” He instructs calmly as he journeys to his personal sunroom in the house himself.
Jeongguk knew inviting the platinum blond to have backyard access to his home after his mother displayed her obvious and poorly concealed dislike from him was a horrendous idea, and really he had no excuse as to why. This felt just as bad, if not worse, as opening the curtains after his mother deliberately told him not to. If she were to catch wind of this act of blatant defiance, there’s no telling how she would react, and the endless scenarios were starting to mess with Jeongguk’s mind paranoidly.
It felt like he was still under his mother’s close surveillance, at any given moment, she was going to jump from out of one of the stock plants decorating the corners of the house to catch him in the act, screeching about how he was endangering his life and could possibly drop faint at any given moment. In theory, he knew it was irrational. These reinforced windows ensured nothing on the outside could get in. Right now, it was that fact that was keeping him at ease.
He knew that once the platinum blond got here, there would be nothing but this glass separating the two. Yoongi would have a direct insight of both him and his home, at least his personal lounging area. There will be nowhere to hide and everything to see. This is the closest Jeongguk can get to meeting the man in person, and instead of being wary of that fact, he invited the man to do just that.
With the blond living right next door, it wasn’t a shocker that it only took merely minutes for the man to round the house and in sight. There was a pinched expression of confusion marring his features, but otherwise he seemed pleased at seeing Jeongguk standing there at his window. Yoongi stalks confident strides up to the all-exposing glass window, stopping nothing but a few inches away from the impenetrable window. “Hey there.” He waves in greeting, although they’ve been talking for a little while now.
Jeongguk tries not to allow the heat flooding his neck to creep onto his face before proceeding to nod back. “Hey, again.” Jeongguk welcomes his greeting, eyes trying not to trail along the other too boldly, fearing being received as rude. The man was expectantly lean, that much Jeongguk had analyzed from afar the day prior, but he was also smaller. Jeongguk was at least a couple inches taller, but the blond was still quite pretty up close. Yoongi was soft looking, but also wide in the shoulders and hands enlarged and veiny.
“Not going to lie, when you asked to meet back here, I expected to see you on the outside as well.” Yoongi admits, flustered. His hand finding the back of his nape comfortably, almost the same way Jeongguk’s eyes find his bare toes nestled into the plush carpeting.
“I can’t go outside. I told you that last night.” Jeongguk hates the dread that laces his tone, but he’s practically squirming now, and there was absolutely nowhere to flee, without doing so deliberately.
Yoongi was quiet, just as he was the last time Jeongguk informed the man he couldn’t leave his home. The glare was piercing and searching, attempting to read the ravenette and the underlining situation, but Jeongguk wished the man would just ask him directly instead of scanning him like a barcode. “I saw your mother and father leave, though. I’m sure if you stepped outside for a moment or two, they wouldn’t know.”
Jeongguk’s eyes widen, absolutely mortified at even the suggestion. “I would never do anything like that! Yoongi, you can’t just say things like that to me, don’t ever ask that of me!” Jeongguk practically pleads, his mother’s warning thudding harshly against his temple as if she were there trying to ingrain it physically into his skull for even allowing such a temptation to taint his ears.
Yoongi was rightfully taken aback at Jeongguk’s sudden fright, instantly soothing him over the phone as he presses a palm against the glass. It was almost mocking, how close yet how far they still were from each other. “I’m sorry, Jeongguk. I don’t want you to come out here if you don’t want to–”
“Of course I want to, but I can’t. Something bad will happen to me if I do. That’s why I can never leave.” Jeongguk tries to clarify, despite his panic. To Yoongi’s ears, though, that sounded absurd. Was this how they kept the man bound to his home? By threatening him in vague riddles about something bad happening to him? Yoongi knew now his thoughts were outwardly accusing but watching the younger attempt to calm himself down helplessly from the outside had him throw caution to the wind.
“Jeongguk. Is your mom and dad not allowing you to leave the house? Is that why you can never leave?” Yoongi asks carefully, and Jeongguk’s wild eyes lift up to meet the blond’s cautious one’s. They were pointed and dark, as if the man had already settled on an answer.
But to Jeongguk, that wasn’t just a black and white answer. Of course, his mother and father never allowed him outside of the house, but not because of their own preference. They did it to keep him safe because it was necessary, even if it was extreme. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate to shake his head in denial. “No, no, Yoongi, I have a condition.” He breathes out, wondering briefly how big the miscommunication must have been last night to lead them both here now. Was he not clear enough last night? He thought the blond understood. Looking back at it now, there was room for error. “I’m vulnerable to viruses and bacteria, Yoongi. If I were to be exposed, I have a high risk of dying. The common cold for you could leave me fighting for my life, and with this condition, I have no guarantees. Both my parents are doctors, and they provide a living for me, helping sustain a sterile and controlled environment for me to live safely.” Jeongguk finally explains his ordeal in entirety, the blond’s expression stuck in astonishment at the belated news.
“I – I didn’t realize.” Yoongi tries to gather his thoughts, grimacing for how he must have sounded. He’s heard of people suffering from auto-immune diseases, he just hadn’t heard of a case so severe personally.
“So that’s why I can’t come outside. That’s why I can’t go to your house. That’s why I can’t go on a cheap date.” Jeongguk concludes, his emotions lacing with the familiarity of it all. This wasn’t news to himself, yet it felt fresh explaining it to the blond somehow.
“Have you ever been outside of your house, though?” Yoongi asks, still unsure and uninformed on the matter. Of course, Jeongguk shakes his head in a silent answer of ‘no’ he had absolutely no recollection of a life outside of this very house. “So you’ve never left your home? Like, at all?” Yoongi inquires repetitively but with the same curious gusto. Jeongguk again, answers with a shake of his head. “Not even to step on your front porch, or the lawn?”
“No, Yoongi. I don’t really know how many different ways you can ask, but the answer is always no.” Jeongguk deadpans, his brows furrowing as he glares at his bare toes.
“But your mom told me last night that you weren’t home–”
“Look, I don’t know why my mother would say something like that, she knows better than anyone my condition. I don’t just not leave the house, Yoongi. I never leave the house.” Jeongguk confesses, albeit heatedly.
A dawn of understanding morphs onto the blond man’s face, grimacing in instant and genuine regret.
Cruel
Yoongi was being ignorantly cruel.
“Jeongguk I’m so–” Yoongi starts to apologize before being cut off.
“Sorry? Well yeah, people usually are.” Jeongguk can’t help but to grumble. This was going to change things between them now. This was going to change everything. “Look, I’ve got to go. My nurse is here, and she might tell my mom if she actually sees you back here.” Jeongguk easily excuses when all he really wants to do is run away and hide in his dark room shielded from the blond.
Yoongi doesn’t try to stop him, nodding in understanding, because he can’t console the ravenette by telling him it’ll get better and that everything’ll be okay. That wouldn’t be fair. So respectfully, he agrees to let him go. “Yeah, okay. Talk to you later?” He asks, still, wanting to keep the line of communication open between the two of them.
Jeongguk only nods though, his eyes not even attempting to lock with the blond’s before he’s ending the call. Even though they’re still faced-to-face, it still hurt to witness the younger act so dismissively when he seemed so nervous and sweet moments prior.
Yoongi didn’t linger on in the younger’s backyard out of respect, easily slipping into his home before sauntering back into his room. He drilled his brain long and hard, repeatedly scolding himself for his insensitivity, no matter how accidental it was. Yoongi just knew he had to fix this between them.
He just had to.
___
Jeongguk doesn’t know why he’s currently upset. He knew he wasn’t actually mad at Yoongi. In fact, if the blond man called his cell phone right now, he would answer on the first ring. But Yoongi didn’t call him, so Jeongguk didn’t stop pouting into the crease of his elbow, the weight of his arm and body leaning across the armrest of the couch, curled up and undoubtably sulking. He had never faulted someone for their curiosity before. It all just came out wrong.
He pretends not to notice Suran’s pensive stare set on him, even as she continues to busy herself with discarding empty wrappers and disinfecting surfaces. She doesn’t pry, for which Jeongguk has always been thankful. However, it didn’t stop the questioning glares she directed towards him at every opportunity she was given. But still, he let the silence stretch on.
Until it doesn’t.
“He said something weird to me.” Jeongguk mumbles, his squished cheeks making his speech come across gargled, but he doesn’t move to fix his posture. Suran nods, her wrist working aimlessly as she continues to wipe the dining table free of any germs. She hums after a moment, inviting the younger to elaborate further on the claim, her ministrations unmoving as she lifts her gaze to rest on him. “He said…” and Jeongguk pauses, because it wasn’t until he was about to say it aloud that he realized just how bizarre it actually was, “He said my mother told him I wasn’t home last night.” He repeats with an inquisitive frown, lifting his head from resting against his arm.
The question of who came to the door at dinner was answered, but it brought along a new set of inquiries. Why did Yoongi come to door, looking for Jeongguk exactly? Is that what set his mother off about the curtains? Because Yoongi had mentioned him to her? But most importantly, why on Earth would his mother tell the man he wasn’t home?
His mother knew his condition more than anyone else, including himself. So to him, it didn’t make sense for her to even entertain ideas of him being anywhere else but the house. Jeongguk knew she didn’t give him any exception, even going as far as to stop the thoughts before they could even fester inside Jeongguk’s mind. It was a constant battle to keep autonomy over his brain, so the fact that she said such a blatant lie so frivolously was baffling.
Suran parrots Jeongguk’s curiosity, discarding the used wipes and contaminated gloves into the kitchen bin before making slow strides around the dining table, considering. “Well, I suppose that is strange, but maybe not as much as you think.” She begins, pausing her cruise a few feet short of Jeongguk, forcing the younger to break his comfortable slouch to properly look up at the woman. “You know how protective your mother is of you. She probably didn’t want to divulge to a strange man about her son, that’s all.” Suran continues to elaborate her point with a shrug, causing Jeongguk’s frown to deepen.
The assumption seemed likely, but it still didn’t sit right with Jeongguk. “I still don’t understand why she would make an excuse as extreme as that, though.” Jeongguk voices, honestly. He pouted and pondered, Suran’s excuse not satisfactory. The only true way he’d know his mother’s intention would be to confront the woman, which he knew for certain he wouldn’t.
Suran sighs, allowing herself a moment to sit down on the loveseat in view of the younger. “Well,” she tries again, “just a bit of lighthearted advise, Bunny Boy?” Suran offers, and Jeongguk can gather that he wasn’t about to like what he was about to hear. “Imagine if you were a parent? Would you give imperative information about your child to a complete stranger? How well do you even really know him? I mean, sure, he might seem kind, but really you haven’t known this man long. There’s nothing wrong with being a little more cautious. You’ve already thanked him for the present, which admittedly was sweet and generous of him, but I think you should start seriously considering if really want to further communications between you two.” She explains, rationally, and Jeongguk wants to argue. But she was right. Other than the platinum blond’s kindness, he didn’t have the right to openly side with him against his mother’s intuition.
Suran reads the younger’s silence for acceptance, giving Jeongguk a gentle smile before rising with a grunt. She walks calmly before settling an encouraging hand against his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “If you were a parent, you would understand it differently.” She coos before sauntering off to finish the remainder of her tasks for the day.
Jeongguk stews in his own silence for a little while longer before he admits that Suran’s advise didn’t ease any of his concerns. And frankly, he was tired of people dismissing his concerns because he supposedly didn’t understand. How many times had then been thrown in his face in his lifetime? It certainly didn’t make him feel better about snapping at the blond for something the man had no control over, and it certainly didn’t make him feel better about his mother lying. If he was going to call, he was calling to apologize to the man, not to end their contact.
It was a circumstance that could be explained repeatedly in explicit detail, but he still wouldn’t understand. Apparently, that was because he wasn’t a parent and not because he found it insensitive.
This felt a little beyond an unspecified grudge his mother held for their new neighbors.
Jeongguk wandered up the stairs thoughtlessly, or perhaps with too many thoughts. This was obviously something he would have to resolve himself. And the first step to accomplishing that would be calling to apologize to Yoongi, first and foremost. The attitude he carried explaining his diagnosis was poor. Yoongi was rightfully curious, his questions didn’t elicit the response that was triggered, alone. He knew the man had no knowledge that his mother had made such a blatant lie.
Softly, Jeongguk closes his bedroom door behind him, praying that Suran gives him the privacy he needs to go through with the phone call. He stalks towards his bed, ignoring the dark void of the room while fishing for his phone, nearly dropping the device from how his hand trembles from nerves.
He was anxious. Truth was, Yoongi had every right to ignore or reject his call. And he had nobody but himself to blame for that, unfortunately.
Jeongguk allows his thumb to press the green icon to connect the call, his back meeting the top on his mattress, a weighted breath exhaled from his lungs. His doe eyes catch sight of the LED projector bounce softly from his sudden weight colliding with his bed, his expression wincing as his heart fills with guilt.
Jeongguk nibbled his bottom lips in anxiety as the dial-tone rings, patient as he waited.
Waited
And waited.
“Hello?” Yoongi’s concerned and confused voice filtered through the younger’s phone, causing Jeongguk to sigh in brief relief. “Jeongguk, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t–” the blond tries to deliver an anxious driven apology, enticing the ravenette to interrupt.
“I’m sorry. I’m not entirely sure why I got so,” Jeongguk drawls for thought. Pissed? Visceral? Avoidant? “upset.” He settles for. “When the misunderstanding became clearer, I just got,” Jeongguk pauses again, nibbling his bottom lip in search of a clever way to articulate the complex emotions he was met with in that moment. Admittedly, there was no intelligent way to vocalize his raw and immediate feelings about opening up to a stranger about his condition. “I was afraid.”
And the whispered confession feels like the boulder weighing on his chest was lifted, granting the younger permission to finally breathe. Jeongguk does so, heavily, and shakily through his intercom. His grip around his cell phone becomes strangling tight, the receiver pressed impossibly closer to his ear. “I was afraid that once you understood that I’m not like everyone else, that you’d view me differently. And that thought really sucked because you’re about the only person that’s treated me like another human being.” Jeongguk chokes out wet laughter, his voice trembling as he forces himself onward. “I thought you’d be disappointed when you realized that this isn’t a circumstance I could change. And I never hated that fact more than I do right now.” He admits, and the noose swallowing his guilt-ridden thoughts loosens just the tiniest bit.
Jeongguk can hear the platinum blond inhale deeply, but not overbearing his presence, waiting patiently for the younger to feel heard. Jeongguk was grateful for the room allotted for him to explore his thoughts more coherently.
The ravenette’s chest gently rises and falls, slowly, allowing the comfortable silence to stretch between the two as they continued to breathe calmly together. Jeongguk thought being so honest about his emotions would cause chaos to erupt in his mind, but there was this liberating calmness that cleansed his confliction instead. He thought regret would be the biggest emotion he felt, but all he feels now is relief.
“I’ve always been viewed as, ‘the sick one.’ I’ve been alive for twenty years and not once have I ever stepped outside of my house. There’s a point in time when I stopped fighting against the inevitable and accepted that this is my reality.” Jeongguk shrugs and sniffles, even though he knows the other can’t see him. Being unseen, for once, is comforting.
“What would happen if you went outside?” Yoongi’s curiosity pulls forward, and Jeongguk is actually glad that he hadn’t made the blond afraid to be curious. The younger felt like he had scorned the blond once, he was at a much better state not to do it again.
“I don’t know.” Jeongguk answers truthfully because he honestly didn’t. His whole life, it had been hammered into his skull that he couldn’t survive the outside, and that had always been a deterrent in of itself. He was told that the world was riddled in bacteria and viruses, that it simply wasn’t suitable for him to live in. But what would happen, exactly? “My mom always made it seem like the sky would fall, the dead would rise, and my head would explode.” Jeongguk jests, maybe a tad bit inappropriately.
The surprised chuckle that escaped the platinum blond made it worthwhile, the older recovering from his initial splutter. “That– sounds apocalyptic.” Yoongi commentates, the younger humming in agreeance.
“Well then, you could say I’m doing it for the good of humanity.” Jeongguk adds in conclusion, his finger tracing along his abdomen out of habit of twiddling his fingers. “In all seriousness, though, my mother thinks the risk of going outside is too grave. I guess you mentioning it caused me to lash out on her behalf.” He tries to circle back to the main theme of topic. “I don’t know, that’s just something my mom would’ve done.” Jeongguk admits, ashamed.
Yoongi hums in acknowledgement, his attentiveness much appreciated. “I noticed you said, ‘your mother thinks the risk of going outside is too grave,’ but what is it that you think?” The blond suddenly challenges, causing the other’s breath to hitch momentarily.
Somebody was asking him what it was that he thought? Especially in regards of his medical condition? It was a weird thing to experience for the first time, and yet the time had come so abruptly. Jeongguk had too many thoughts about it, that he didn’t even know where to begin. “Somedays,” he begins, treading slowly, because he wasn’t sure of how far he wanted to dwell in those emotions. “I feel like I’m content. That I’ve already accepted it. But most days, at least more often than not, I just feel trapped.” Jeongguk admits, refraining from slapping a hand against his mouth to force himself to be quiet. But it didn’t seem like his voice wanted to be silenced today.
“When I was staring at you, initially, I was drawn in by envy.” Jeongguk continues, Yoongi making a contemplative hum as he waits patiently to understand the younger’s emotions clearer. “There, I saw three handsome men, moving houses, starting a new journey. Men who have seen more of the world than I ever will…” Jeongguk stops for pause, thinking for the right way to frame his thought. “And I was jealous. People in my peer group living a life that I’ve only fantasied about, while I watch it all happen, stuck behind a window.” The younger confesses, unable to help to slight bitterness that invaded his tone.
The blond only breathes, but his breaths are calm and sturdy, notifying the younger that there was an air of understanding between them. As crazy as it seems, but Yoongi had a subtle yet impactful way of communicating, that Jeongguk just about had the man read. The platinum blond was straightforward, challenging, yet incredibly patient. Maybe it was because the older shared a deeper, dark part of himself with the younger, or maybe Jeongguk just had a keen eye for the man.
That thought has a smile spreading across his face, leading him into his next confession. “But you, Yoongi,” He says with a breathily start, “I was so taken by you.” Jeongguk states rather bluntly, finding no need to become shy about his admiration. “Watching your brothers and you interact all day, it was endearing. But at a certain time, I became solely intrigued by you and only you. You just seemed like a beautifully reserved man with many pieces putting you together. And when we talked last night, you were beyond my expectations.” He concludes more confidently than he should.
Yoongi splutters again, only this time with a mouthful of denials. “What? Really? No, no there’s really nothing exciting about me.” He demeans himself out of confusion for the younger’s admiration. It was too misleading. But Jeongguk felt otherwise.
“No. You’re brave and you’re sweet. Last night, your words resonated with me more than you could’ve ever known. I’ve always been too afraid to admit that I’ve struggled with the same sentiment of being loved, but not feeling loved.” He explains the revelation he had with the blond that night, the feeling of shedding tears with the older a cathartic memory. “Sometimes I feel that because I’m able to take another breath, I should know that there was love, sacrifice, and effort into making that breath possible. But most times, I just feel like an obligation. Like a burden.” Jeongguk feels gratification shedding light on how much he sympathized with the blond, comforted by the knowledge that the man understood the feelings he was conveying.
“I had never heard that before, but it struck me deeply. I had always felt guilty for wanting more. For wanting more out of life, for wanting more from my parents, for wanting more memories of my brother–” Jeongguk’s mouth abruptly shuts closed, his lips pursing tightly until his teeth were sinking into his flesh. Zeha wasn’t supposed to be a point of topic.
“Wait, Jeongguk? What happened? Why’d you cut yourself off from talking about your brother?” Yoongi, as intuitive as ever, catches the younger’s change instantly, causing Jeongguk to sigh. Why did the blond have to be so perceptive? Jeongguk didn’t understand it. It was becoming impressive just how well the two managed to read each other. They were practically strangers, and yet:
“I didn’t mean to mention him.” Jeongguk corrects but concedes without any coaxing. “He was my older brother who passed away when I was only a toddler. I don’t remember him, but gosh, I wish I did, because he’s a hole in this family's heart.” Jeongguk breathes shakily, his chest caving in because he’s terrified of the blond’s reaction. He wondered if the older could hear his envy of his deceased brother, if the man knew there was more that the younger wasn’t saying.
Yoongi’s line was quiet for a moment, the platinum blond breathing. “My condolences.” He wishes the younger, and it made Jeongguk feel greedy. He felt greedy because many people have sent him and his family condolences before, but he was the only one who didn’t need consoling. “I’m sorry that grief is straining your relationship with your parents. It’s every parent's nightmare to lose a child. And I’m sorry you and your family have endured that.” Yoongi extends, thoughtfully. His genuine words and sincerity driven in his tone allowed Jeongguk to accept, as greedy as he was for it.
“It’s burdening.” Jeongguk doesn’t intend to sound as exhausted as he does, but he is. “To be the only child left, I mean.” Jeongguk clarifies as if it makes his stance any better. As if it makes his insecurity of inadequacy any better. “And I’m grateful. God, everyday I show my gratitude, but I never asked to be the product of their success. After Zeha’s accident, it was obligatory that I survive. And the fact that I’m not healthy makes me feel like I fall short of their expectations. And now I’m nothing but my condition.” Jeongguk vents out disorganized and raw, emotions he’s said for the first time feeling a bit clumsy in execution. He no longer knows if he’s making sense to the older, but he isn’t finished.
“I don’t feel seen by them. Not as a son. I feel like I’m an experiment, destined to fail. I’m viewed as uncapable, worthless, and an inadequate replacement.” Jeongguk resolves vulnerably. And he was at odds with how he felt. He had no idea if he wanted to be condemned for his inherently selfishness or if wanted to be vindicated from any wrong thinking. Most of all, no matter how much he tried to suppress himself, he just wanted to be heard.
“You’re not worthless. You’re human, Jeongguk. Everyone wants to have their emotions validated. It’s not for me to say it’s right or wrong. But what you’re feeling is understandable. I’m not going to fault you for that.” Yoongi perfectly accommodates his needs, reading his mind past the jumbled filth lodged and scrambled within his brain. He knew he didn’t convey his emotions intelligently or maturely at all, and yet the older was willing to lend an unbiased ear so that he may be allowed to vent.
“Because it’s okay to have feelings.” Jeongguk echoes reminiscent of the comforting words the two men exchanged the night prior, a smile having the audacity to make an appearance on his lips at a time like this. He had perhaps spewed the ugliest emotions storming within in him to a man that owed him no kindness, and yet Jeongguk had felt at eased in the moment.
“Because it’s okay to have feelings.” Yoongi parrots, voice kind. “Sometimes you just need to talk them out to come to actualize complex emotions. My offer still stands. If you ever feel that insistent need to sit down and work through your thoughts, I’m always here to listen.” Yoongi offers, and he’s proven to be genuine thus far. And that effort is something Jeongguk will cherish closely. “I meant it when I said that I believe we can be friends, Jeongguk. You don’t have to shy away from me.” The sincerity wafting from the aura of the older is felt through the receiver of cell phone.
Jeongguk couldn’t find words to express the blond’s pure unadulterated kindness. It was dizzying just how patient this man was actively being. He couldn’t say that he’d be sure a friendship could actually bloom between them, but when he was talking to the man, it surely did make him want to try.
His whole life, decisions and pathways have been made for him. Jeongguk’s only task was to trek the lonely road alone. But the platinum blond man was offering his hand out, promising to be there for the ravenette, just as a real friend would.
“What is it that you want?” Yoongi proposes, not imposing himself on the younger to allow Jeongguk to decide the direction their friendship would inevitably take. Jeongguk had pondered, what was it that he wanted? To be seen? To be heard?
“Value.” Jeongguk answers, assuredly. “I just want to be valued.”
___
“Jeongguk! Uh, please, come down here! Now, please!” Suran’s voice pierces through Jeongguk’s closed door, his sleepy head rising from his sunken pillow with resting marks lining his confused face. The urgency was heard clear in her tone, aiding Jeongguk to flick the covers from his comfortable frame and remove himself from his bed despite the allure of more sleep.
Clumsily, Jeongguk shuffles his feet into his bunny house-slippers, arms flailing in false balancing before throwing his bedroom door open. He uses an arm to trail across the wall, helping to guide him through the familiar halls through his peeked blurry vision. As much as he rushes, he takes the stairs one at a time, heavy thuds announcing his hurried arrival as he poorly manages the weight of his feet while descending.
He pauses at the last step, a powerful and drawn-out yawn hindering his movement, taking the energy he worked up with it as he continues his journey with the lazy dragging of his feet, causing his slippers to create an annoying melody. “Suran?” he calls softly to further guide him to her whereabouts.
“In here!” she eventually answers, seemingly distracted. Jeongguk tried not to get annoyed by the suspension since there’s prospects of a possible emergency. He saunters towards the back of the house, his private sunroom coming into view with Suran standing in the middle, the back of her head facing the younger as she stares off at something.
Jeongguk rubs sleep from within his eyes, clearing his vision before finally wobbling alongside the awaiting nurse. “What’s the matter–” the question of concern dies on Jeongguk’s lips as he registers the scene before him. “What the hell?” the younger breathes out in astonishment, his doe eyes widening in awe as a smile fights its way to his lips.
“I was hoping you could tell me.” Suran deadpans, staring disapprovingly at the windows.
But Jeongguk was gravitated towards the windows, his eyes scanning over the plethora of photos collaged and taped against the face of the windows from the outside. Doe eyes traced over every image, in awe. Moonlight bathing in the ocean. The quality of the photos where gorgeous, various stages of the sun setting and the moon shining against the shore of a beach that he’s never seen outside of movies. But it was real, a certain glimmer of reality ingrained in every single picture, all adorned by a hand-written sign decorating the middle of the sea of images.
I’m sorry
let’s start over?
Jeongguk couldn’t suppress the smile that consumed his features from reading the sign, the marker signed in a pretty blond’s familiar cursive. Jeongguk couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospects. The older man’s enthusiasm was contagious. Jeongguk didn’t think his excitement was containable.
“A simple ‘thank you, next,’ huh?” Suran mutters sarcastically, fixing the younger with a pointed stare. She didn’t hide her skepticism from her tone, her arms crossing over her chest, managing to successfully rip Jeongguk out of his reprieve. The nurse tongues the inner of her cheek, arching her brow in a silent scolding. She might as well have started thumping her foot impatiently from agitation.
“I’ll ask him to take it down.” Jeongguk offers easily. Supplying no further explanation or reasoning behind the ordeal. He respected her opinion and listened to her authority. Often times, he valued her consistency in his life as if she were his own sister, but at the end day, she was his healthcare provider. She could only advocate on his behalf when it came to his health, and nothing more. Respectfully, he didn’t care to quell her curiosity or concerns.
Suran only stared a moment longer before conceding, realizing the younger wasn’t going to provide her with more clarification about what this collage is, or why it’s plastered against the window. Huffing out, the nurse turns on her heels, her back facing the scene Jeongguk is still gawking at. “You might want to have that done sooner rather than later.” She advised sharply before parting unceremoniously.
Jeongguk knew Suran felt a bit offended about him continuing his communications with the platinum blond after she advised him not to, but she was right to warn him. He knew her lack of excitement for the collage didn’t come from a malicious place. Had the wrong person discovered this endearing act taped to the windows this morning, he’d be attacked with an onslaught of questions he wasn’t willing to answer.
But the reality of the situation didn’t make his heart flutter any less by the overzealous act of forgiveness.
This was dangerous indeed. And yet, Jeongguk was smiling like an idiot.
___