Chapter Text
Jeongguk doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore.
It’s god knows what time in the morning, and he’s in his studio at the company. It’s ironic, really, how he used to drag Yoongi and Namjoon home and now he’s the one that needs to be dragged home; the only issue is that nobody comes around to do so, so he’s left alone in his three in the morning thoughts with nothing to do to distract himself.
He spins around in the chair slowly, head tilted back against the headrest, one foot planted on the edge of his desk. He’s been spinning himself back and forth for god knows how long by now; he hasn’t checked the time since he got here, which was eight in the evening. Jeongguk is sure it’s been hours; how many, he doesn’t know.
What he does know is that it’s really late, he hasn’t eaten since noon, and everything feels like it’s falling down around him. It’s been two months since he got the tattoos, a few weeks since Jimin saw them, and almost nothing has changed. Nothing but everything; he can see the others sneaking glances at his chest, trying to see the tattoos through his shirt. He doesn’t make the mistake of wearing white anymore, though; he learned his lesson.
Everything and yet nothing.
Glancing at the dark desktop screen, Jeongguk sighs before pushing himself up from his chair. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he knows that he’s hungry. Knows that maybe he should eat to keep himself on his feet for a little while longer.
Jeongguk quietly pushes open the door of his studio fret tugging on his shoes and grabbing his wallet, glancing side to side before heading down the hallway towards the vending machine. As he passes a window, he glances outside, and the pauses in his tracks and steps up to it, blinking a couple of times in surprise.
It’s…. snowing.
Jeongguk places his fingertips lightly against the window, looking out at the streets of Seoul that are beginning to be coated with a delicate white. The chill seeps into his fingers and up into his wrist, making him shiver but not enough to pull back. A few moments of silence pass before Jeongguk heads back to his studio, throws on a hoodie, and heads out of the building, not bothering to take his phone because he knows that it’s dead.
The door opens quickly, almost slamming against the wall with the force Jeongguk uses to open it. He steps forwards a few paces, out from below the awning of the building, and tilts his head upwards towards the sky, watching the snowflakes drift down around him.
They fall against his nose and cheeks, small pinpricks of cold that melt away when they touch his skin. Jeongguk holds out a tentative hand, relishing in the chill that immediately overtakes it. The snow is peaceful, muting the sounds of the city around him; muting the voices that had been whispering in his mind and sowing seeds of insecurity and despair.
The tightness in his chest begins to dispel, allowing him to breathe normally once more. For the first time in months, everything feels right, as if it’s all clicked into place like the last piece in a puzzle. As if he’s not a fuck up and he’s not hiding underneath his shirt a secret that could ruin his life and the lives of everyone around him. The snow rests against his body, an icy embrace, and Jeongguk loses track of time as he stares at the grey skies above him, framed by metal buildings and telephone wires.
Something deep inside of him slides into place, and the side of his chest begins to burn, right over where his ribs are, decorated with the cover up tattoos, but Jeongguk barely notices it as he zones out, feeling nothing but the serene chill of the snow against his skin. The fiery pain fades slowly, soothed by the snow, and after a long moment, Jeongguk looks down and tugs up the side of his hoodie.
Before, he could see the press and dip of the letters spelling six names against his skin underneath the tattoo ink, but now there’s— there’s nothing there but the cover up tattoos. Jeongguk takes a hand and skims it across the surface of his skin, the heat of the pain being absorbed into his fingers as the chill of the snow clings to his side. The names are gone — and with them, the empty place in his chest.
Jeongguk drops his hoodie, holding both hands out to catch the rapidly falling snowflakes. Something has changed tonight; what it is, he may never know, but something has set the universe in its right path again. And as he watches the snowflakes dot across his palm and exposed forearms, black letters curl over his wrists; a promise of a second chance, a new beginning.
The weighted pain in his chest slowly seeps out of him, replaced by the neat letters slowly being pressed into his left wrist. Jeongguk pulls his hand back and smiles when he doesn’t recognize the name stamped onto his wrist; smiles as tears build in his eyes because someone out there hit the reset button and he has another shot at happiness.
The small black letters read to him the name Choi Sejun, and at long last, a genuine smile curves over Jeongguk’s lips, dusted with snowflakes and filled with hopes.
Everything is going to be alright.