Chapter Text
Seokjin woke some time later with the saffron light of pre-dawn sifting through the canopy. Taehyung slept, curved on his side, his dark hair a splash across the pillow. Seokjin watched him a long, still moment, his breath catching at how peaceful he seemed, his strong, tanned legs tangled in the sheets, his hands open, his pale palms pink.
Seokjin slipped down the spiral stairs to the outdoor kitchen below, where the frogs still chirped their coqui melody. In the vine-strewn trees above him, birds flitted and insects whirred. The fountain burbled, the water smelling rich and green and mossy. He stood there, barefoot on dew-damp tiles, waiting for the coffee to brew. He felt bold and intrepid, a stranger in an exotic place, adjusting and exploring, opening himself up.
The light roast of the coffee filled his senses, and he wondered what Julian would make of all this. Julian, who loved espresso with his morning crossword, with his gridlocked schedules and rigid routines. He would chide Seokjin. He would say, “That’s really mature of you, hopping into bed with the first Korean you meet. And of course, you’re already planning the rest of your trip around him: cooking classes, snorkeling tours. Exactly like you, always wanting more.”
Seokjin’s heart sank. It was true. He had already composed a list of things he wanted to do with Taehyung. Activities and excursions he didn’t want to do alone. Couldn’t do alone.
Seokjin poured two cups of coffee and returned to the loft. At the top of the spiral steps, he paused, scanning the street for any sign of the cat but finding instead the derelict bricks meant to repair the ruined church. Then, in a gap between the trees, he beheld the waning moon and wondered, when the moon is gone, and the sun rises, the one who has been with me… will you be gone?
But to whom was he referring? The cat? Taehyung? Himself? Wasn’t the whole problem the fact that Seokjin didn’t know?
He set the coffee cup on the side table intentionally hard, and Taehyung stirred awake. Scrubbing his eyes like a child, he sat up, gratefully taking the mug between his hands.
After the first sip, Taehyung murmured, “You’re up already.”
“I am,” Seokjin said.
“You probably have a busy day,” Taehyung said, sipping again.
“I do,” Seokjin lied. He felt himself slipping toward his bullet-list of questions, ready to barrage Taehyung with ideas and activities, things he wanted to do since he arrived on the island but had been too self-conscious to do by himself. But since the whole purpose of this trip was to learn how to be alone, Seokjin road-blocked his line of thought, making his response too awkward and abrupt.
Taehyung placed the mug aside and took Seokjin’s hands in his. “I would like to see you again,” he said. “Before you head off to wherever it is you’re going.”
Again, the pang squeezed in him, a deep, radiating ache. “Normally, I would say yes,” Seokjin began. “Without hesitation. It’s just… I came here to figure out how to be by myself, and…”
“I get it,” Taehyung said. “Really, believe me, I understand.”
Inside, Seokjin was shouting, No! NO! Don’t understand. Be with me. Stay with me.
Which only underscored Seokjin’s problem because, honestly, he met this man yesterday and was already too eager to fold him into his routine.
Taehyung was moving, then, pulling on his pants and shirt. “If you change your mind,” he went on, “I’ll be at Plaza del Quinto Centenario for my tour. I have another group of Koreans today. If you time it right, you can join at the moment I tell them that chili peppers come from here. I swear, you can witness the actual moment when their minds get blown away.”
“But that would mean kimchi—?”
“—Didn’t add gochujang until the 16th Century,” Taehyung finished, eyes twinkling. “I know.”
Internally, Seokjin still screamed that it wasn’t too late. He thought of the cat, casually slinking from the base of Rogativa to disappear into her pool of shade. He said, “Last night was—”
“—Wonderful,” he said. Seokjin met his eyes and read in them… what? Disappointment? Resignation? Or was Seokjin projecting his own feelings? “If I may…?” Taehyung went on.
“Please.”
Once more, Taehyung squeezed his hand. “Here we have a phrase: A falta de pan, galleta. If we don’t have bread, then cookies.”
“Oh, I like that,” Seokjin whispered.
Taehyung smiled. “The rough translation is, We must make peace with what we have,” he said. “And, for the record, I don’t believe life ever stops flowing. It always gives us what we need. The trick is knowing what to ask for.” Taehyung hovered a second longer, but when Seokjin said nothing, he added, “Thanks for the coffee.” Then he stepped outside, collected his umbrella, and disappeared downstairs.
Seokjin hurried onto the patio, skimming the street below to call down a last goodbye. A jogger trotted along, ponytail swishing as she rounded the corner. Seokjin found no cat, and no Taehyung, only the abandoned bricks and the broken church.
Butterflies with blue-black wings fluttered in the outdoor shower, lighting upon the morning glory blooms. Another pang squeezed Seokjin’s heart, thinking of the delicious openness of the night before, of being completely free and exposed with Taehyung.
But it was over, and Seokjin never felt more alone.
^x^ - ^x^ - ^x^
The treehouse never felt empty before, but without Taehyung in it, it yawned like an open wound. Seokjin dressed and went out for food, finding a mofongo place nearby that served breakfast. He bought a quesito – his guilty pleasure – and then, on a whim, he added a fish taco, which he left open on its tortilla on the sidewalk for the cat.
Renewed in his determination to get this alone business under lock, Seokjin pushed further afield, taking an Uber to Condado Lagoon in hopes of seeing the manatee. He told himself he was not avoiding Old San Juan, that Puerto Rico was a tiny island, and in his month’s long visit he had yet to stray from the seven square blocks of the citadel.
He found no cats in Candado, and no manatee. Apparently, you had to get up early to catch them grazing. Once the sun reached its zenith, the ethereal creatures retreated to their patches of seagrass, avoiding the daily grind of tourists.
Seokjin rambled the shopping area of Condado, feeling disconnected and adrift. Couples walked hand-in-hand, sipping from fresh coconuts and smelling of sunscreen. The plaza thronged with families in flip flops, their children squealing for dulces tipicos and manatee snow globes. This was a place for connection, not for wandering alone.
Julian possessed the foresight to know this; it was why he warned Seokjin from going. Seokjin had no business taking what was meant to be a romantic holiday on his own, and in his broken state, he had only made things worse. Seokjin cursed Julian for doing this to him, for forcing Seokjin to do this alone. They should have had breakfast together, followed by a couple’s kayak tour to the center of Condado.
He stood among the milling crowds, dizzy with the scent of sugar and cigar smoke. He was spiraling, his head aching from last night’s drinking, his heart mangled from his six years of marriage. He called up the app on his phone to summon an Uber, and when the driver picked him up, it was all Seokjin could do to keep from sobbing.
By the time he arrived at the treehouse gate, fat, silver raindrops were pelting down. Stepping to the curb, Seokjin saw the open tortilla of the taco bereft of its filet. Frantic, Seokjin scanned the street for any sign of her – a pawprint in brick dust, a tuft of mottled fur. The Uber pulled away, leaving the side street quiet as thunder rumbled from the Gulf.
The sound of it broke Seokjin’s paralysis. He darted toward the fortress, not really sure where he was going, only that it was about to storm and she was out there, alone and defenseless, and he had to be sure she was okay.
A few blocks from the treehouse, a flash of lightning split the air, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. Shouting, tourists scrambled into open shops and under awnings, marveling at the suddenness of the downpour. Seokjin continued running, though, despite the pounding flood, splashing through choking gutters on his way to the fortress.
El Morro was vacant. The ramparts and the surrounding grass were far too exposed for lightning strikes for anyone to risk it. Abandoning all reason, Seokjin charged through the sodden grass, feet snagging in surging rivulets as the clouds above him burst. Eyes blind from rainwater, Seokjin dodged down a set of wooden steps, cringing at the constant strobes of lightning. He slid along the red-clay track, twice almost losing his shoes, conscious only of his sobbing breath and the churning of the surf below.
Seokjin scrabbled along the broad walkway, the rain so dense he no longer saw the ramparts. He came to an open iron gate and passed through it into a shadowy courtyard, its branches tossed by the tempest esta al garete, a relatable phrase he’d learned on the plane. Like a disaster.
At the courtyard’s heart stood La Rogativa.
Seokjin collapsed to the cobblestones, crawling through raging rain to the statue’s base. So this was it, the place of his ‘rogar,’ where he would beg in supplication for his hollow, wounded heart.
His body wracked by sobs he had carried far too long, Seokjin drew himself upright, legs crossed, with his back to the towering figures. There, at the corner of the Bermuda Triangle, where wandering souls get lost, he let himself weep, because at least in the deluge, no one was there to see.
Only he felt the lightest feather of something brush against him. He opened his eyes, blinking at first against the rain that streamed into them, then blinking again in disbelief.
For there, drenched and bedraggled, stood the cat, one delicate paw upon his knee.
Seokjin spluttered in surprise. The cat, taking this for permission, slunk into the hollow of his crossed legs, twining her tail to take shelter beneath him. Instantly, he bent double around her, shielding her body with his shoulders. She slow-blinked, twice, her bi-colored eyes bright in her divided face, and then, shivering, she began to purr.
Feeling bold and yet trembling, Seokjin touched two fingers to the place between her ears. She arched into it, adding a warble to her purr, and Seokjin exhaled a burst of relief.
He had built her into this fiercely independent creature, opportunistic and aloof, and perhaps she was all of those things. But she was not only those things. Here, taking refuge with him against the storm, she seemed affectionate and grateful for his company.
Seokjin felt an almost maniacal surge of elation – made sharper no doubt when compared to his despair from moments before – but he could not fully express his gratitude to this tiny animal that she had chosen him. How vibrantly it resonated in him, to finally be chosen instead of the other way around. So to her only, Seokjin whispered his fervent plea: “I am so tired of pretending.”
That was not a supplication, he knew. But it was his wish, his rogativa: I want to be me.
Rain slackened and thunder mumbled. Seokjin continued to stroke the cat’s back, marveling at how thin she felt without the benefit of her fluff. Yet in this vulnerability, she retained her beauty. She did not need him to protect her against this tropical squall. Likely, she was old enough to have survived Hurricane Maria, so she had certainly weathered worse.
Gradually, sounds hushed back in, the traffic on the boulevard, impatient drivers honking their horns. Then the scents of the rainwashed stones, and the cat herself, a not-unpleasant smell like damp sand and cardboard.
Seokjin focused on leveling his breathing. He focused on being present in this moment, not letting his thoughts stray to future plans or past transgressions. He resolved to wait with her, until she was ready to spring free, whether or not the storm had abated – that was up to her – and when she left, Seokjin would let her go.
The scrape of a footfall sounded on the walkway behind him, and though Seokjin tensed, the cat did not. Seokjin remained still, thinking perhaps one of the people trapped inside El Castillo San Cristobal finally decided it was safe enough to brave the rain. Then, abruptly, the rain ceased. A shadow bloomed across the cobblestones, casting him and the cat in a circle of watery marigold, as without word or ceremony, Taehyung opened his umbrella.
^x^ - ^x^ - ^x^
The storm heaved itself off the coast, heading west along the archipelago, leaving in its wake a feeling of being scrubbed raw. From where they perched, the city was a blue and grey haze, everything soft-edged and golden with the droplets still hanging in the air.
The cat stretched herself in the hollow of Seokjin’s legs and slept. Seokjin, hesitant to move or breathe lest he disturb her, kept his back rigid as Taehyung crouched beside him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, choosing instead to listen to the reviving city and the steady trickle of rain.
Then Taehyung said, “She’s a chimera.”
Though he knew Taehyung was there, Seokjin still startled at the sound of his voice.
“That’s what she’s called,” Taehyung explained, “because of her markings.”
Seokjin watched the cat as she slept, her thin chest rising and falling with her breath. From his studies in college, Seokjin had learned about chimeras. They were female monsters out of Greek mythology, the head of a lion, the tail of a snake. But it was the symbolic meaning that came to him now: a thing that is hoped or wished for, but is impossible to achieve.
Seokjin finally dared to drag his eyes to Taehyung’s. Taehyung answered his gaze with a fragile smile.
“You’re grieving,” he said. Seokjin felt Taehyung’s shoulder shrug against his own.
Seokjin exhaled. “Yes,” he admitted. “I don’t think I even began until just now.” The pain of it stung him. Tears thickened in the back of his throat. “I think I can finally admit out loud that my husband never loved me.”
“Whoa,” Taehyung muttered. “That is really hard.”
Seokjin shook his head. “I thought…” his voice caught. He tried again. “The only thing that really hurts now is all the time I wasted trying to fit the mold he made for me.” Then Seokjin smiled. “I was a good husband. At least, I tried to be. I was loyal and supportive. You know, like a dog? And he said that I am needy.” Seokjin’s voice broke on the word, that painful little barb.
“Do you think you’re needy?” Taehyung asked.
Seokjin lifted his shoulders. “I am cookies,” he cried. Then chuckling softly, he added, “Not bread, but cookies. Because, was it so wrong that I wanted to spend time with my husband? To have a nice dinner? To take the long way home after watching a romcom? To actually watch a romcom?”
“I don’t think it was wrong.” Taehyung smiled.
“I didn’t need him,” Seokjin went on. “I wanted him to want me. As I was. As I am. Isn't that the whole point? To love someone as they are, flaws and all? Not defining them. Not pinning them down. Not pretending to be someone you’re not for the sake of belonging. I know it isn’t easy, but I think that’s the way I would like it to be.”
After a moment, Taehyung shifted the weight of his umbrella from one shoulder to the other. The sound of its rustling stirred the cat from her sleep. She gazed around. Then, seeming to determine the state of the storm, she leapt from Seokjin’s lap and traipsed to the edge of the wall. Seokjin and Taehyung each held their breaths, as if any stray movement would spur her to run away.
She did not, though, choosing instead to sniff the dripping hibiscus and rub her scruff against the stones.
“We love her as she is,” Taehyung observed.
Seokjin turned to him. “I am not wild, or independent, or aloof. I like being in a partnership. I like not being alone.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Taehyung said. “Because, me too.”
Seokjin smiled again, and already, it felt easier. The cat trotted down the sidewalk, back to the place where she could slip through the gate and return to her spot on the shore. Seokjin watched her tail swish beneath the brush, and this time, it felt okay to watch her go.
Taehyung stood up. Stretching, he inhaled the air, seeming to drink it in, to taste it. He extended a hand down, and Seokjin took it, wobbling to his feet. They walked a few strides, Taehyung’s golden umbrella bobbing over one shoulder, when he reached to hold Seokjin’s hand. “So,” Taehyung asked. “Have you been to Rincon?”
“No,” Seokjin admitted. “I have not.”
“And La Parguera? Have you been there?”
Laughing, Seokjin shook his head. “I have yet to leave San Juan.”
“Ah, well, you’re in luck,” Taehyung said, beaming his sunflower grin. “Because here, we have a saying: Irse pa’ la isla. To go beyond the city. So if you’ll have me, we could go together.”
Until this second, Seokjin had not considered extending his stay. He had his half-empty apartment in Chelsea and a running brunch date with Jimin and Yoongi. He had work at the museum, collections to curate, paperwork to file, contracts to exhume. But now, he thinks, Why not?
All of that will keep, and anyway, he doesn’t need to make a plan right now. He could simply be himself, whoever that happened to turn out to be. He felt no anxiety in the ambiguity. For once in his life, he looked forward to being boundless.
They strode a few more steps, his hand resting comfortably in Taehyung’s, the setting sun spilling honey across El Morro and the expanse of the rainswept gulf. “You know,” Seokjin said, softly and without restraint, “I like that idea a lot.”