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Chapter Text

‘futures are unborn; past are obsolete
(here less than nothing’s more than everything)’
From ‘life is more true than reason will receive’ – e.e. cummings

….……………………

we have met, for each of us to walk forward.

It had not rained for 5 weeks.

Jeongguk was locked in a barren spring that had been reeking a havoc of confusion on i. A listless weatherman each morning, noon, and night, ii. Every stranger he had listened to, quietly, at the bus stop, whom voiced (surprised each time) a yearning for the smallest of showers, even on a Monday, of all days, and iii. All the flowers, with desperate buds. The stems in the box outside his window were wilting pathetically, seeming to have given up hope of a saving drop.

“It just means we’ll have a later bloom this year”, Namjoon had said cheerfully, washing dishes after dinner that night, “and it will be none the less beautiful for it”.

But what of the rain? Jeongguk wanted to ask. That surely had to come first and it was all, really, that he had been waiting for. Sat on the edge of his seat in the classroom at school, he had been daydreaming far out of the window for a fortnight now, searching for any certain rolling greyness at the edge of the horizon. It had been fruitless.

“If you say so hyung”, was all he replied. And then, “do you think mum will come for longer than a day or so before then”?

His brother stilled a little, probably at the bitterness in his tone, but then calmly pulled the plug from the drain. Jeongguk knew him well enough to prepare himself for appeasement over explanation.

“If work allows that…I know it seems to you that she puts any and all things above you, above us, but as I’ve grown older I’ve come to understand the reasons for that more. Life is difficult at the best of times, and though I don’t accept her for everything done and not done, Jeongguk, you’ve got to get better at letting things go”.

A pause; Jeongguk was used to a length of words from Namjoon on any subject, but these had taken a different direction from the consolation he was familiar with. The elder too seemed surprised at his own inclination to steady the younger with this rush of counsel. The short answer to Jeongguk’s question was often given by his brother: “I don’t know Guk”, but it seemed today, finally, he would grant the long: “No, but I would hope you’d begin not to care”.

Namjoon turned away from the sink to give him his full attention as he spoke. “Guk-ah, I…I clung to anger and stood in a river of sadness for the longest of times, and I see that stubbornness lies even greater in you. You’re fighting against the current each day. And you should know, that it never did me any good…But now, I’m happy, I’ve moved on from residing in those negativities, and I’ve then also found someone, a partner, who reflects everything good I can now treasure. Small steps, Guk, but a large part of growing up is moving on, and I can’t see that anything you’re holding onto now is making you happy.”

And he dearly wanted to take his brother’s words and follow them, move on from praying for a present mother, praying to know he was walking in a certain direction, instead of wandering. Forget to keep hoping even for the rain.
But he knew he was still growing, and learning.

A short laugh, and “Hyung! Surely I’ve still got a year or so of teenage desperation left in me, allow me to keep my feet planted in the river a little longer, please.”

“Ah, Guk, you’re smarter than you think. Just remember that I’m here, and I apologise for the lecture, but you must know I only worry for you”. His brother had kind eyes and a smile when he spoke, and Jeongguk did know.

He held down the rush of affection, and turned towards the stairs, where a solitary room awaited, “Don’t think that’ll pass any time soon hyung. I’m sorry, but isn’t youth about making mistakes whilst they can still be forgiven”.

….……………………

And then, bleary eyed and at only the beginnings of his self, Jeongguk woke to Namjoon’s call of goodbye ringing through the house, and the heavy slam of the front door. Confusion reigned. It was surely as dark as any of the small hours before dawn in his room, and yet his brother never left for the university campus before 7. Proved true, as he rolled over to peer sleepily at the clock on his windowsill. 07:13am.

Did that mean?

Yes. He tore open the light curtains to thick, dense clouds hanging heavy over the houses as far as the eye could see, and…relief, torrents of rain were pounding down on the pavements outside. The gutters were dripping, the drains were full, and Jeongguk could not help the beam that pushed his lips apart, rubbing the night’s sleep from his eyes in delight. He looked to the edge of the skyline, where rested the sea, and the city in-between, from which all colour, it seemed, had seeped. An added and laughing thought: what of Busan’s famous blue sea now, replaced by only angry waves of rolling black. Waking up, facing the day of school and smiles and the inescapable feeling that the hours slip away whilst also dragging endlessly was never happy for Jeongguk, but knowing today he would walk emptier streets, as the rain washed away a sea of people, made him feel far better than he had in all the weeks of drought.

He dressed with little care. Pulling on a creased uniform, after a brisk and jolting face full of cold water in the bathroom, Jeongguk did not stop even to glance in the mirror, aware of the fact that 20 minutes spent leisurely bending his arm out of the window, trying to catch droplets between his fingers, had made him late late late. But he found he was eager to rush, to throw himself into life today, barely seizing his sketchbook from his desk before heading downstairs towards a welcome outside. There was none of the sluggishness of his usual weekday mornings, and yet he paused in the hallway. Took in what he was missing.

Or rather, what was not yet gone. Unopened post lay stacked, teetering, on a small end table right next to the door to his escape. Each letter was addressed to a ‘Mrs. Jeon’, and he was uncomfortably aware that the mail at the bottom of the pile had been laying there for over week a now. Jeongguk swallowed a lump rising in his throat and refused to dwell. So what if his mother had not (chose not to?) come home. Namjoon had told him to slide past the pain and move on. He turned away from the table and wrenched open the door, gladly stepping into a deluge that could drown out all thoughts, and disappointments.

….……………………

The streets were even emptier than expected. As he climbed up the slick steps towards the wider roads, Jeongguk felt hushed, and as peaceful as the morning had ever made him. He was yet to see anyone scurry past him in the rain, so felt comfortable to stroll contentedly, distracted, through the shower. Water was dripping steadily down the steps beside him, pooling into growing puddles he struggled to sidestep. His head was in the heavy dark clouds billowing above, but he felt he had in some way come back to himself. Had he been drifting aimlessly in the dry weeks that had passed? Certainly Jeongguk already found meaning in his day, newly started. It felt like a day of beginnings.

With that came a small fear: the good thing comes, but it does not last. As a child, staying up late on Christmas Eve, humming with excitement for a clock struck twelve, the pleasure of the day to follow was the sole thought. But Jeongguk felt the burgeoning of adulthood in that he could no longer forget that it was only a day. And a day soon ended. Did he want to rain he had been yearning for to be enjoyed for this small moment only?

He had reached the top of the steps, reached the main road, and crossed quickly to the bus stop on the left side. The traffic was thick here, and the cars were rushing past, but he stood under the bus shelter with only one other. They exchanged a quiet, polite morning greeting. The older lady looked sadly at his soaking lower half, sodden shoes, and the raincoat that did a fine job of covering his torso and little much else. He had not been aware that his hood was down whilst dreamy and alone in the rain, until the woman’s eyes raised to his head and she tutted lowly. Jeongguk looked down, abashed.

“I know it was much needed, but you forget how much you hate the rain until you’re in it”.

His eyes startled upward at her words, which were clearly a friendly initiation of conversation. Floundering a little, he blurted out, “When I was younger my mother used to tell my brother, “There’s no such thing as miserable weather, only miserable people”. Truly, when younger, Namjoon had kept himself almost always to his room, and Jeongguk had a short but vivid memory, more than a decade old, of his mother pushing his brother furiously towards the door. She had always been one for tough love, or sometimes, as he now thought, perhaps no love at all.

The woman looked a little taken aback by his reply, but took it in her stride. “Perhaps she was right. In any case, we either don’t know what’s good for us, or decline to appreciate anything while we’ve got it. All those dry weeks waiting for a drop of rain, but in this onslaught I’d give anything to have to sun back.”

Her candour was as surprising as any part of the conversation, but he was caught up more in the fact of how her words echoed his earlier thoughts. Enjoy it while you can, even maybe while you should.

A bus arrived at the stop, the woman and Jeongguk both jumping back to avoid the splash. She got on when the doors slid open, looking back to give a brief smile, as he remained stood on the curb. Soon after that had left, another drove up, windshield wipers squeaking with a difficult mission. He went aboard; it was quiet, deserted, and he sunk heavily into one of the many empty seats. The bus rumbled down the wide street, and then turned, up a long hill.

….……………………

Getting off the bus, Jeongguk was given a slight and concerned look by the driver, but the doors soon closed and he was left alone in the silence. He felt the rain was only getting heavier; he had to wipe his brow to peer up at and read the sign above the gates in front of him. The faded hangul read ‘Jaseongdae Park’, and school could wait. The park was one he often walked in, familiar enough with paths canopied by trees and overgrowth to know he could stay sheltered from the downpour, secluded and able to breath. Jeongguk was not an excellent student, he suffered through his competitive sciences, humanities, to spend a short period of relief in front of the easel in art class, but he not missed a day or even a morning in some time. He had not wanted a mother found missing with a call to discuss a struggling son, nor had he wanted Namjoon to become his proxy carer, under enough pressure at university himself.

But he had struggled tight chested through many days, trapped at his desk in winter, dawn ‘til dusk, peeling himself from a plastic chair after endless summer hours stuck there. It had felt bizarre but beyond wonderful to let the bus with his route to school close its doors, the woman’s smile disappearing behind them, as he stood fixed decisively to the spot. It had felt freeing.

Jeongguk strode under the gate, soon heading towards a densely wooded trail. Under the covering of trees he could still hear the pouring, and feel a few slight drops that slipped through spaces between branches, but it was a different world. The stoned path was now weaving upwards. His destination; a small hideout, a bench, a garden of silence he had often found solace in. There were no more thoughts of school, of his brother’s cautious words from yesterday, all he could feel was his sketchbook heavy in his bag, burning against his back. Without realising, his pace had increased. He was breathing faster but easily still, the anticipation building as he crested the hill and turned a wide corner around which the refuge awaited.

Release?

Abruptly, not. Two benches sat in the corner of the clearing, dampened somewhat but mostly dry, inviting. If not, for the tall man who sat atop one, ankles tightly crossed and head hanging low. He had glossy chestnut hair, separated into dripping strands. The rain had caught him also.

Jeongguk had halted into so immediate a way that he begin to overbalance, and he slammed his lifted right leg back onto the paving stones in an attempt to regain his stance. The thud as his foot planted was alarmingly loud in the almost silence. The man’s head snapped from gazing into his own lap, where he had his hands cradled around a can. His fingers slipped when his eyes rose towards the noise and presence made known, and Jeongguk recognised the label of a popular beer. He remembered it could not yet be past 9am.

Whilst caught on that thought, he almost missed an even and pleasantly toned voice call softly across the clearing, “Good morning”

Politeness thankfully prevailed, and a return greeting, “Good morning”, quickly slipped from Jeongguk. He was now looking directly into the face of the man, whom had slanted his head left to reach Jeongguk’s gaze. His smile was brief, and did not reach his eyes. But he was breathlessly beautiful. Jeongguk had become caught on the lips surrounding the forced beam, larger than life and looking as soft as if he was to press his thumb gently into the cupid’s bow they would spring back, glossy…parting...

The eye contact broke, and he began furiously blushing. First barging into the clearing unawares, fracturing the stillness, then 30 seconds of awkward and blatant staring. It was almost as much as Jeongguk could take, and yet it felt it might be unbearably more embarrassing to turn tail and head back down the path whence he came which, unfortunately, ended where he stood. Jeongguk gathered himself together. Then he walked to the bench to the right, at a ninety degree angle, of the one the (handsome) man sat upon.

Settling in difficultly to move as little as possible, lest to rustle or draw any further attention to himself, he sat stiff and breathing shallowly. He soon realised this was unnecessary, as the cascade of continuing rain was creating a loud enough hammering on the leaves above, that he could not even hear his own breaths, let alone those of his neighbour. Relaxing just slightly, Jeongguk stared absently ahead, pondering whether he was brave enough to draw his sketchbook nonchalantly from his bag.

Ten, twenty minutes passed as the argument ran on in his head.

Finally deciding that he did not wish to risk the drawings catapulting from his hands into a convenient puddle, whilst really just attempting to quell a fear of prying eyes, he raised his eyes cautiously left to a presence that he could no longer ignore. Thankfully, the man was not looking back. Again, his gaze had fallen to the can in hands and lap. As Jeongguk watched furtively, hoping his eyes were hidden under his fringe, the man crumpled the beer can in half, empty and finished, and place in on the bench beside him. He had no wish to judge by appearance or by action, yet Jeongguk’s thoughts continued to revolve about what brought a man to drink alone in a park in the rain in the early morning. They similarly could not help but be brought to confusion by that such a man taken low was a man such as this.

Because he truly was beautiful. No dappled sunlight even yet hinted through the branches, and yet his hair and skin and eyes were softly glowing. He was dressed smartly in a shirt and tie, and a raincoat that did not appear to have done its job, or else he had done as Jeongguk and stood, hood forgotten, in the torrents. His face was small and delicate featured but his frame was large, broad shoulders and big hands, a man in the way Jeongguk was yet to be. For all his near 17 years lived, and the some 3 years spent a frustrated teenager, he had not felt his heart beat such a response to anyone.

He was sitting dazed. It was not just the man’s natural and exuding loveliness that was intriguing him, rather the sad and lonely presence surrounding him, which was pervading Jeongguk’s own feelings. Or perhaps it was matching them. He felt unsettled.

The man had not moved to act in any way, no phone or book in hands. In fact, his expression seemed that he might be wringing his long fingers together, however they only lay limp, palms upwards, in his lap. As if in supplication. Every part of him was at odds, and Jeongguk could not help but stare, engaged by his vulnerability, his heart refusing to stop racing.

Eventually, he became aware that his observation needed to end; his questions were not to be answered today. He checked his wrist and saw that his watch already read 10:21am. He had not come to the park to be searching, but he was far more at ease from this brief and wondering silence. Jeongguk had to leave now to make it school even by lunch. He rose with a deep sigh, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

And then, the man looked up. Jeongguk could not help but meet his gaze as he walked towards the path; it almost felt important to not break it. Stepping back onto the slick paving stones, and wiping a drop of water that had fallen on his forehead, he turned back down the hill. His feet were dragging. School, the busy city, every burdening thought was waiting. The past hour or so had been spent in a strange and mindless limbo with the man, and he did not wish to leave. Was it foolish to feel that he had found peace here, when at first the presence had urged him to flee?

Two steps taken, a third quicker and larger, but then a call.

“Goodbye” (and a hidden “See you again?”).

Jeongguk glanced back, pushing himself to leave. An equally soft reply. “Goodbye.”

….……………………

Lying on his bed face down, that night, Jeongguk had not stopped thinking. The man’s face was framed in his head, face perfect and remembered in embarrassing detail. How long must he have taken in his features, for Jeongguk to feel he would now know him anytime, anyplace? He buried his head deep in the pillow and let out a muffled groan.

Just as this morning, the slamming of the front door roused him. Shuffling steps, and then and low yell of pain he recognised from his brother.

“Don’t kick the doorjamb again hyung!” he lifted his head to shout, “you’ll break your toe against like last time, and remember what a pain that was!”

Hurried, but lighter than usual, footsteps up the stairs. He had just heard Namjoon’s reply, “Hey, Guk! How about not always enjoying my discomfort so much?”, when his door swung open, and he glanced up to a full beam face.

“Jeonggukkie, what are laying here all sad for? It’s been awhile, where’s your greeting for hyung! Joonie has been moaning all the way here about the weather, and his class project, and how fantastically terrible he is at everything, I was hoping to arrive to something a bit less bleak.”

Hoseok. Wonderful and dear Hoseok. Jeongguk smiled back at his brother’s boyfriend, and perhaps second favourite person ever, just as glad to see him. He and Namjoon had been dating for well over a year now, and just as he had made his brother happier and brought him back to life in so many ways, so too did he make Jeongguk’s life a little brighter with each meeting. Older than both brothers, he often seemed infinitely wiser; while they both were too often caught up in their own heads, entangled in negatives, Hoseok challenged everything head on. A positive personality and sunshine demeanour did not make difficulties in-existent, but he acknowledged them and tackled them and became all the stronger by them. Since becoming part of the family, Hoseok was someone to look up to as much as his own brother.

He was still smiling at the door, but at Jeongguk’s returning grin, he flung himself onto the foot of the bed. “Wow, this is uncomfortable, maybe I can understand the grimace now.” He was chuckling, fresh faced and youthful, but his eyes held concern.

A placation, “I’m just lying down because I’m tired hyung, no worries.” And then, “But its great to see you. Namjoon’s been keeping you to himself for too long, it’s never any fun around here."

“Hey brat, I heard that.” His brother stood at the open door, arms crossed and words stern, but his laughing eyes gave him away. “I was going to ask if you wanted to eat top ramen with me and Hoseok-ah, but you can cook for yourself now.”

“I think that might be better for my health anyway hyung”, Jeongguk replied, a little cheek falling into his voice as his mood lifted. Namjoon was his favourite person, brother or no, and he wanted him to know that the talk from yesterday had left no ill-feeling between them.

His brother was smiling now, and knowing this was, a little, Jeongguk’s apology. Eyes falling on Hoseok’s sprawled figure, they turned loving, soft with care. As if he was looking at for the first time in a long time, as if he had been missed for the few lone minutes downstairs. This had never made Jeongguk feel uncomfortable. The honest gaze between the two he had always been happy for, to see, even if every time it left him wondering after the feeling between them.

(A disconcerting thought; did he see an echo of the parting gaze between him and the unknown man, hours ago now, but still burning is his mind and behind his eyes?)

“Right, ramen for three then. You want eggs in it? Actually, don’t answer that I know you want eggs and I do too. It’s been a long day.” Namjoon’s voice was slipping into a whine at sentence end, and Hoseok began to giggle, turning back to Jeongguk to say, “See what I mean? He’s cute, but that moaning!”

Love, Jeongguk was an enthusiast of, flirty banter, he was not. He scowled at the two, “Better make that ramen soon hyung, else I will have vomited beforehand.”

Hoseok rolled onto to his back, giggling, slight legs kicking out uncontrollably into the air. Namjoon only rolled his eyes. “Alright, Guk, I see you’ve had a better day than me. Hoseokie, you coming to help, or maybe to watch me accidentally slice my finger off?” Now Jeongguk was the one laughing, at his brother’s half serious tone and a half likely probability. His brother turned back downstairs, glancing back briefly as Hoseok replied, “Just give me two minutes Joonie. How’s ‘about you just boil the water?”

There was quiet in the room for a minute, only the thud of Namjoon’s tread down the stairs and then some clattering from the kitchen. “You don’t think he needs your help?” Jeongguk said to Hoseok, questioning. His brother’s boyfriend was as kind a person as he though one could get, and he was especially so around Namjoon. Cautious sometimes, caring always.

A sigh. “No, you’re brother has got a genius brain and two very skilled hands,” a pause for high-pitched laughter and for Jeongguk to shove him in retribution. “Take that how you want it! Anyway, he’s got so used to me doing things for me and enjoys the attention too much; I think he’s starting milking it. Got to make sure he knows his fair share of jobs before…” He coughed lightly, looking worried. “But anyway, Jeongguk-ah, you’re still a baby, why are you getting my innuendos now?”

He could not help put feel a little put out. True, he was just on the fringes on adulthood, but it was this that led to a perplexity of feeling that he thought Hoseok was one to know of, and understand.

Noticing his dismay, Hoseok moved closer on the bed, taking Jeongguk’s hand in a way that relayed his seriousness. He began to speak, markedly quiet; “Now I know that, you know that, I did not mean at all what you‘re thinking. You know I respect you, appreciate your maturity, and like Joon, never take you as anything but seriously. You’re too quick to judge yourself, often, and so assume others do the same. Jeongguk-ah I hate that. I see you and want nothing but your happiness, but can’t help feeling that you’re far from it.”

Jeongguk was horribly reminded of his brother’s kind but heavy words from yesterday, and began to squirm away from Hoseok, still unready to face up to himself.

“No, hey, listen: Joonie told me what he said to you last night, and I want to say that he was wrong.”

Again, surprise. Jeongguk had woken today to be steadied by the rain’s final arrival, and then shaken by everything else, by his decisions, and others’ actions. Because Hoseok and Namjoon were, in his sense, soulmates. Namjoon’s sage advice had always the ring of his partner’s assuring nature, whilst Hoseok’s words often held the other’s resolution. Of course, there was often the debate of comedies vs. dramas, tea vs. coffee, Biggie vs. Tupac, etc. etc., but before now, he had not known them disagree on such a matter. As much as Hoseok cared for Jeongguk, he had also always stepped back, aware of family ties and understandings and of burdens he could not bear, and allowed Namjoon to guide his brother as he wished. But now, to treat Jeongguk as friend and as equal, he would give him his words as wished.

“Well, not completely wrong. I do agree that you need to start letting things go Jeongguk-ah, you’re worn down with the eyes of an ageing liar, but only after you have faced them. You know too well how long Joonie was trapped by his sadness, and he overcame it, but after meeting him, I tried so hard for so long to get him to know that, and not hide it as his shame.” Hoseok furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, still holding Jeongguk’s hand, entwined with his own. He started once more, with a deep breath. “What I mean, is that he wouldn’t have got better, happier, if he’d only left things behind. He learnt that the sadness was a huge part of his life and once he acknowledged it, he could then leave it for, a remembered, past. Everything that’s hurting you, every confusion, don’t forget it, rather know it is real but that it does not have to be present.”

Wide-eyed, trembling, Jeongguk met his eyes. Hoseok was smiling again now, soft and achingly kind. He gave his hand a quick squeeze, and then let go. “I know you’ve still got growing up to do, to change and evolve. Do that without pain on the backburner. Life’s about living and living well, hey? Learn and move forward.” There was silence then, but the words resonated, built in Jeongguk’s throat.

He smiled back, and it felt real. He knew what he had just been told would stay with him, and he would learn. “Hobi-hyung, I think Namjoon got really lucky finding you, and I got really lucky being his brother.”

The beam returned, and he was planted into the bed by the weight of a smothering hug. A yell too close to his ear, “Well I love you too Jeongguk-ah, thank you! I hope that moany brother of yours appreciates me as much as you do.”
As if, right on cue, “Seok-ah, baby you said you were going to help! I have run into some…um, difficulties.”

Hoseok launched himself to his feet, worriedly shouting back, “No burns right? Of you or the ramen?”

“Hey, you know I’m not completely incompetent, right? Namjoon did not sound annoyed, but Hoseok began inching towards the day anyway. “Basically, I can’t remember which ramen you asked for and that’s important!” Now, he sounded miserable.

“Joonie, darling, that’s sweet, but you didn’t ask Jeongguk-ah either!”

“Guk will eat anything!”, this was more than half way to a shriek, “But do you want it spicy or no?”

Alright, enough, thought Jeongguk. He reached out and jabbed his fingers into Hoseok’s ribs, and his hyung shrieked in response, whirling back round to face him. “Please just go down and help him” Jeongguk said, trying to jab his fingers in again, prodding Hoseok towards the door. Thankfully, the whining and minor violence worked, and he cheerfully bounced from the room, “Okay Jeonggukie, I’ll call you down soon!” he called over his shoulder as he left. He closed the door behind him.

He sat back up, moved to the farther side of his bed and opened his window, wide. He stretched his arm out into the rain, letting the few drops still falling run through his fingers again. The words of both yesterday’s evening and today’s were rolling around his brain, seeping into impulse and consciousness whether he liked it or not. But he felt he had been given something important. 24 hours had all but crushed him with the amount he had been given, been called to learn. He knew that forward from here, things would be different.

The rain was still as welcome as he had been on waking. He sat, still holding out a shaking hand. And thought.

He thought of his brother, and Hoseok. Their laughter he could hear, dimly, from the kitchen. Namjoon had met Hoseok in the first week of university, sensitive and in, some sense, recovery. He had come home that night, and it being a rare occurrence of a present mother, whispered secretly to Jeongguk, in his room, about some angelic boy he had met that day in music class. His brother had seemed lighter than he had ever been that day, and in the few short weeks it took him and Hoseok to come together, and fall. His happiness had reached the point of spilling over, and Jeongguk was ever so glad.

And yet, this had been a small part selfishness, and as he sat presently, reflecting, guilt crept in once again. Because Namjoon had met Hoseok at Pusan National University, a fantastic college to be proud of, but he had meant to have been at SNU. He had been vague when asked about his acceptances, and once, Jeongguk had woken in the early hours, to hear his mother screaming about disappointment. Namjoon had been white at the breakfast table the next morning, first clenched. His mother had been already gone.

He had seemed happy to go to PNU, and everything that had happened since had been nothing but positive for him. His brother had even spoken of fate one evening, pointing to how the love of his life had decided to take a leap and move from Gwangju, how he had met him on the first day, how he had made things matter, more, and; “I got to stay and bother, I mean take care of, you Guk!” he had added laughingly. “All’s well that ends well.”

“Of you Guk”, and it had been, because of him. A few months into the university year, his brother on another date he was decidedly not looking forward to hearing about, Jeongguk was searching through his room for a drawing he had given his brother the other day, nervously, and was now having second thoughts about anyone ever seeing. In the drawer, on the right side of his desk, he had found an acceptance letter. From Seoul National University. There had been lines and lines of praise for Namjoon; it was obvious how desperate they were for him to go. It took him not a moment to realise that the date of the letter was from a period of Great Upset. His mother had come home more and more infrequently, and his brother had been desperately trying to maintain a home. And he must have known, that had he left, Jeongguk would have been stranded, drifting.

So, guilt, which was apparently something else he need to face and let go of, if he was to take recent advice. Jeongguk was not enjoying dwelling on these painful memories, but the more he lingered, the more the overarching feeling became pure gratefulness. And relief that Namjoon had found Hoseok instead. He would pay back everything given to him, and given up for him. Grow and do this, he thought.

Then, his mind wandering, he hung half torso out of the window, face drizzled with rain, and he thought of the man.

What was his story? He did not look much older than Hoseok, Namjoon, but it seemed his back had bent with a thousand years’ torment. Jeongguk had seen a smile so worn and fading. Who was he, and had he been searching also.
Would he see him again?

….……………………

(dreaming… and … awaking, dry eyes, confusion. he was wrapped in sweaty tangled sheets, his mind orbiting around a face. the face? glossy lips but sad eyes. sad eyes with a whole story…he longed to listen to it, its millennium. but would he ever learn, know this as much as he desired? perhaps? … maybe not?) A second of clarity. He blinked his eyes against sleep that was drawing him under, under and (a beauty that was a daze and. he did not want to continue always searching: there had been a dream and he had been wanting and what he had been wanting was to not be wanting)

And then, he fell back into heavy and waiting sleep, all to be remembered when he awoke again, a handsome, and a sad, face. It was sketched in his mind.

….……………………

The next day, Jeongguk sat sleepily at the kitchen table, swilling bits of oatmeal and soggy apple around in his bowl. Namjoon had left a half hour ago, Hoseok pushing him cheerily out the door, into the clear morning air. It wasn’t raining. The weather had turned fine once more, the sun already out. The cloudless sky, soft warm breeze; everything was shaping the previous day to surely be a dream. Because he had been hoping for rain, and he had been hoping to start feeling as if he understood his own self, and he had been hoping for a sign. And, yesterday, he stood in the downpour. And then an idea planted by Namjoon had been cemented by Hoseok, a certainty he had known before.

And then there had been the man.

Was he wishing it was still raining for his mood? For the flowers? Or was he yearning to be sat on a simple bench in a quiet park, next to someone he could not forget?

He shook away the thought. Sure, the man was handsome and intriguing and Jeongguk had never liked questions, but it had been less than a day, and as if he was as likely to have forgotten an experience that quickly anyway. You’ll never get through and get out of school if you avoid it to be unproductive and stare brazenly at stranger, he told himself firmly, remember you’re trying to be a good brother and a whole person.

So go through life now as you’re meant to. Standing up and away, chairs legs squeaking on the tiles and ringing through an empty house, he took his bowl to sink, washed and dried and put away. He dressed in his room, brushed his teeth, took his backpack from the floor and head down and out, all as he should do. The bag was lighter than yesterday, worn over a neater uniform than yesterdays also. His sketchbook was still lying stranded on his desk. He had not yet dared to open it.

….……………………

The routine did not last long. School had felt slow and difficult, as he was facing the challenge as a new person, after one day when he had not shouldered the burden. But on the Friday of that week four days since the day that, in a way he could not understand, seemed to have changed everything, it was raining.

It was heavy weather. Thick and humid cloud and light drops of rain, only drizzle, but the air was damp too. You would be soaked to the bone without quite realising. When he had woken, Jeongguk had been stifling hot, trapped under sticky sheets and too many layers of clothes. He called out to Namjoon that he had to use the bathroom, but it was not until he stood in the shower, brain whirring to life, that he remembered his brother would be gone.

It was only 6:17am, but Namjoon had warned him that he would leaving earlier now, perhaps even until the summer. “The essay project is a huge part of my grade”, he had said, tone casual but eyes a little frantic, “and so I need to be working hard on it from now on.”

Jeongguk had felt there was a great deal not being said, but had simply nodded and offered words of encouragement. The stress of the workload and long commute was a problem they did not discuss.

So, alone again, he wandered the house, an early rise meaning he had time to ready himself freely. Despite the time to kill sat in front of the fan on his desk, eyes on the window, he could not help but feel that he was humming with anticipation. He would embrace this eagerness, having had to struggle his way to school for the past days, if not for the fact that he knew, in a small but growing way, that the school gates were not the ones holding his excitement.

It was beyond foolish. There was no convincing reason why he should return to park, and many to convince why he ought not to, but his faraway mind still clung the small haven he had found, under the tree canopy, quiet. And not alone.

Because Jeongguk was not lonely. He had Namjoon, and blood did not equal love, but his brother was dear to him for a multitude of reasons; his sincerity, his wisdom, his kindness and respect, and his sometimes frightening but ultimately beautiful way of looking at the world. And he had brought Hoseok, warm and empathetic and hilariously funny Hoseok, whom Jeongguk also trusted and loved dearly. At school there was also Jimin and Taehyung, older and sometimes, even if he’d never tell them, wiser. They were friends ‘til the end, fiercely loyal and always happy to lend a listening ear. He had a small group, but an important one.

So no, not lonely. But Jeongguk was lonesome. For this was not being alone, but the way in which he had always found himself solitary, apart in some way. A lonesome place was one unfrequented, and Jeongguk knew he was a remote island. Even speaking with loved ones he habitually felt himself desperate to escape into his own company. To his room that was his alone, and treasured. Walking in the city crowds, sitting by the waves on a full beach, he did not often feel like he belonged. Especially with his fellow classmates at school, from whom he was so different as to be unable to call them his peers. Lonesome was a state of mind over being, and one he could not change.

But to be sat with a stranger and be called to comfort? Unusual for most, but would be considered impossible to Jeongguk. And yet, his mind was still revolving around the man in the park. Perhaps this repetition was just a question in desperate need of answering, if he returned, just once, would he be able to put the feeling to bed?

Again suddenly, glancing at his clock, he realised time was limited. At the door, he swung his backpack over his shoulders and rolled them; today, his sketchbook was a heavy weight that hung between them. The tower of mail beside him could not go unnoticed, but the pain it brought had stung less and less each day. He passed it by, and slipped into the rain.

Whirling thoughts and the wonderful feeling of the showery drops on his cheeks secured a daydream, his steps mindlessly guided. He soon stood at the bus stop, a decision warring in his chest and in his head. A bus pulled up and Jeongguk boarded. His heart had won.

And so, the routine broke.

….……………………

The park was silent again.

The path curving upwards to the clearing was drier than it had been before, the stones not slick enough for him to have cause to be wary, so Jeongguk’s pace was quick and eager. He did not know what he would find when he arrived, and a small and poison-toned voice in the back of his mind was persistently telling him that he had set himself up for disappointment. But what depended on him not reaching his destination and finding himself alone? He couldn’t fathom as to why it felt so important, why it had his hands sweating and fingers shaking and heart pounding in his chest.

He turned the corner quickly before he thought too hard about it. And he was there.

Sat in the same spot on the bench, hands cupped on his lap. His expression was blue and weary, his head bowed. Jeongguk could have been convinced he had remained there, a statue, for the few days since, except today he wore a light yellow jumper instead of the crisp blue shirt. It flattered him, still radiant in the morning light that was dimmed by the endless clouds.

His breathe whooshed out of him, an overwhelming sense of relief running hot through his veins as he stared, transfixed. And the man was looking up, and back. Jeongguk saw his own welcome mirrored in the eyes; they held longer this time, and the soft smile lifting the perfect lips was more than genuine.

“Good Morning.” His smile filled his voice, and Jeongguk was stepping into the clearing whilst returning the greeting. “Good Morning.” He broke eye contact whilst settling onto the bench, but was so desperate for the attention to return. The daydreams from the past few days had done the stranger no justice, in the flesh Jeongguk felt guilty to have diminished him to a teenage fantasy. The beauty the eyes perceived was a small part of a masterpiece, he knew.

(How did he know? How had a heart called to his and brought him to ease in a moment, so much that he had only been waiting for his return here? Not love at first sight, but perhaps the aching affection resonating through time, a longing for someone in solitude.)

Once seated Jeongguk pulled his sketchbook hurriedly from his bag before he had second thoughts. He glanced up again; the man’s eyes were cast down, his wide shoulders bowed, but what was unnoticed before drew his worried focus now. A can of beer, empty and crumpled was placed precariously on the bench beside his silent companion. Only one, again, but it was to him one too many. What was his sadness? The questions that had filled his past week were returning.

Jeongguk busied himself pulling his coat off, he was overwarm in the humid air, thick with moisture and his own exuding nervous energy. The stranger was not going to speak again, so he pushed down the slightest discontent and decided to embrace the comfort the clearing and the man’s smile had offered him. He took up his pen.

Birds were singing in the trees, fluttering among the water-logged branches. Every time one landed, a light shower dusted the two below. The clearing was a small and secluded world, no sounds of the city that busily skirted it; not a single voice, mellow, sweet, deep or loud, echoing from the streets. No other could exist in the quiet moments spent, a pen scratching busily over paper, the smooth breath of an immovable man.

An hour passed.

Jeongguk blinked heavily, flexing his taut fingers. His grips slipped and the pen rolled free, clattering onto the stones at his feet, and rolling. Not far, though, as he reached to stop the escape, slender fingers appeared in his periphery. He bent upright, to see the man cradling the pen, looking tiny in his large palm, and then blinked again as the hand stretched toward him. A blush burned his cheeks, hot and frustrated. But the gaze was kind. He took the pen back, mumbling “Thank you”, and cursed his pink cheeks. He was quivering under the attention he had craved, nervous in a way he had never known before. Until the stranger had turned away, he could not find a breath.

He wanted so much to stay, but the time had fallen away under his distraction. He looked down to the paper. A pair of plush, perfectly shaped lips lay on the page, slightly parted and down-turned. Jeongguk thought they were the finest in this sketchbook, in any he had owned, despite unfinished and drawn isolated from the face that framed them. Eyes sliding upwards to his oblivious model, he was satisfied at the resemblance. Because the man across him was not just beauty, he was character too, a face that could have launched a thousand ships, but more so to Jeongguk, had founded innumerable questions. And indeed, even with the hasty sketch, he felt he had begun learning.

The man had sat silent and still for the whole long, eyes distant, but as Jeongguk rose to leave, his eyes snapped up. Regret? Or longing? He spoke quietly, but his words boomed inside of Jeongguk’s head. “Leaving so soon?” A nod. “Since we have met twice and will maybe meet a-…” He trailed off, but then began once more, resolute, “May I have your name?”

Without pause, a keen answer, “My name is Jeongguk.” Attempting to keep an even, not desperate tone, Jeongguk spoke while staring into the face in and of his dreams. “And yours is?”

It did not seem as if the man had heard: he was not meeting Jeongguk eyes, but gazing with some focused dismay at the some point around his ribs, where the crest of his school was stitched to his shirt. He scratched the spot self-consciously, too polite to ask his question again, and the man looked away. With what looked like…shame?

But then back, a distraction. “My name is Seokjin. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jeongguk-ssi.”

His name a song on the man’s lips. Seokjin’s lips. And in Seokjin’s soft and lilting voice. The familiar syllables became a current through his veins and Jeongguk was alive, pulsing with something new and good.

A hand was offered to him. He placed his in the large palm, and it was firmly shaken. The power of a man’s arm, a man whom had shaken hands before. Jeongguk was a child in his grasp. His heart was shaking also.

Remember you were leaving, he told himself, and thankfully his feet took him away as he looked back, again, and said: “Goodbye, Seokjin-ssi.”

That look between them. He did not know what lingered in Seokjin’s eyes, but it was new, and what he might call scared. “Goodbye Jeongguk-ssi”, and this time, aloud, “See you again.”

As he walked away, his day already made in the morning, he heard that voice once more. Surely it was not for him, distance made the words unclear, and they made little sense to him. Above the birds singing, and the trees rustling, and the steady fall off rain, he barely heard them at all.

“[A faint clap of thunder,
Clouded skies,
Perhaps rain will come.
If so, will you stay here with me?]”

….……………………

Lunchtime, sat alone in the classroom, the morning filled his mind. Despite a welcome and a name and an interest shown, Jeongguk’s happiness had been fleeting. The second meeting Seokjin’s sadness was his memory, the more he looked at the lips in his sketchbook, the more unhappy they became. He found he was anxious to help. Would he return in the next downpour to search for the possibility of doing so?

His fingers drummed on the table, tension brewing, but a warm hand was suddenly easing them to a halt.

“You do know that everyone has a struggle hidden behind their smile, right?” Taehyung asked, splaying himself over the next desk.

“What?” Jeongguk was confused, and a little worried that he had been so absent as to not notice a conversation he was meant to be a part of. How long had he been there?

“Don’t worry you didn’t miss anything and we just got here”, this was Jimin, placating. He perched on the desk in front, head tilting in consideration. “Tae just means, that when we find you caught up in your thoughts like this, you always look like you’re fighting some huge battle, alone and unknown.”

Taehyung was nodding vividly in agreement, “And we find you like this often!” He leaned forward to sling an arm around the younger’s shoulders, a warm and familiar presence. His tone was light but scolding when he said, “No man is an island Gukkie!”

Funny that he should say that, when Jeongguk had always considered that the perfect metaphor. Nevertheless, he smiled and laughed, to save an answer where there was none.

The two did not look convinced. Jimin intertwined his fingers with Taehyung’s, even as stretched and uncomfortable it must make his position, and sighed. He looked down at the desk and boy before him, and asked simply, “Are you alright?”

“What do you mean? Of course.” Now, this could not convince even himself. As Taehyung slid from beside him to drape himself over Jimin, comfort found in close embrace, he attempted to tighten his defences. But Tae’s honest gaze was hard to rebuff, and Jimin’s eyes were sharp when it came to the troubles of those he loved.

“We spoke to Yugyeom this morning.” Taehyung had not let emotion into his tone yet, so though wary, Jeongguk was still confused as to where this was heading. “And he was asking us if you were okay, as apparently you’ve now missed two mornings this week, and your head’s been all off in the clouds.”

Ah, Yugyeom. He was the closest classmate and same age friend of Jeongguk, meaning they greeted each other some days and occasionally shared test scores. Kind and innocent, Yugyeom was someone he could so easily be friends with, but he had never taken the leap, so the distance remained. However, Yugyeom still showed concern above what was common of such a barely existent relationship, meaning he was unsurprised he had reached out to Taehyung and Jimin. Jeongguk was guilty of not even having thought of him.

Embarrassed, he quickly began to thread together a suitable excuse in his head. He was about to open his mouth to lie about a missed bus or lost keys or a broken alarm, but Taehyung spoke first. Smart as anything, as always, he shook his head and said, “You do know that we know you’re about to lie to us, right? You’ve never been good at it Guk, you feel so bad every time you don’t tell the truth, and those big eyes give you away.”

Jimin continued, smiling softly down at him, “We can already see you looking guilty, so if you don’t want to tell us, please just don’t. Tae’s about to be upset he pushed you to talk.” At this, Taehyung turned to the boy beside him and beamed; everyone who knew him would know he cared for his friends and their feelings deeply, but it was only Jimin who could sense the slightest emotional instability, sometimes even before he registered it himself. Jeongguk was observing them as they gazed gently at each other, and longed to be known the same.

He had once asked Taehyung about him and Jimin, lifelong friends and more recent lovers, a question he had never thought he’d ask. But it had rushed from him one day, and he had wanted to know why the two could know each other’s thoughts like their own, trust each other completely, and still remain true to themselves. It was a love laid bare for all to see, new and enticing to him, and it belonged to his closest friends. It was also a love he saw blooming between his brother and Hoseok, and he was desperate to know its secrets. Taehyung had hummed quietly before answering, his voice light and true.

(“Well Plato wrote in The Banquet that, according to Greek mythology…”

Immediate confusion. “Wait a minute, hyung did you hear the question I asked?” Jeongguk knew Taehyung was clever and full of interesting ideas that often swept over his head, but he was mystified as what the founding father of philosophy had to do with any high school relationship, even with a love as striking as Taehyung and Jimin’s.

His hyung had been grinning, and waved away Jeongguk’s interjection with a slim hand aimed to cover his mouth. Jeongguk had whipped his head away, but committed himself to silence until the end of what seemed a wild subject change.

“Anyway, he wrote about humans’ original creation as eight limbed and having a head with two faces. And then Zeus was too afraid of their power, so he split them into two separate beings. They were then condemned to spend their lives in search of their other halves. If they found each other, they could be happy, and stronger for it.”

Jeongguk was now beginning to understand the relevance that had been lost on him, but this grand view was unlikely to aid his own search, in fact it was making everything seem all the more difficult. He had looked at Taehyung, and said, a small part sceptical, “So, soulmates?”

Taehyung had vigorously shaken his head, and replied eagerly, “But it’s more than that! Unless you find you’re other half, you’ll never be whole. There’d be yearning and questions and you could never fully be yourself; a part of you would always be desperate to reunite.”

This had struck an unwelcome chord inside of Jeongguk, his breath had caught. It wove too easily into his own journey for answers, a quest he was yet to understand. He blustered, and then to dismiss the unwanted words, laughed out, “What, so for the three years you lived before you met Jimin you weren’t a real person?” He was distressed, desperate to make the theory ridiculous.

But Taehyung’s eyes were still clear, and he spoke from the heart, words resounding. “Those three years, and the twelve other I spent not realising he was the love of my life.”)

It had been hard hearing this, and it was hard now, sitting at his desk as the two in front moved and thought in sync, and were happy. He wanted it for them, of course. Taehyung of all people deserved to be content and safe and in love, and Jimin gave him that. Jimin had always been less of an open book than the other, but his smile was brighter around the other boy, and when he pressured himself now with school and dance, he had someone to support him through it. So, Jeongguk was glad for them, and not envious really, rather just eager to understand.

What unsettled him most, were the feelings from this morning in the park, which were the closest to understanding he found he had ever been. This was disarming. Two meetings and then love, or something like it?

“See, there he goes again. Hey Gukkie, your attention is needed, we were talking about how were abandoning you in less than a year!” Taehyung reached out to flick him slightly on the ear, but Jeongguk had soon twisted his wrist up and away, releasing after a series of yelps. Jimin was giggling, tiny hands cupped on his boyfriend’s knee.

And Jeongguk was laughing too, so at ease with them. But he still could not help the small part of himself that was beyond the classroom windows, hovering through the grey clouds to two benches, in the rain. And whispered words, asking him to remain.

….……………………

When Namjoon got home that night, later than usual, the sun was setting, and he found Jeongguk in his room, lifting weights. He turned to his brother in the doorway, and said, “Was your day okay?”

“Yes thanks, I’m making progress, it’s just that I know how much work I’ve got ahead of me,” he replied. “It’s daunting. Hoseokie brought me lunch though so it was better than expected, wish I could cook like that.”

Jeongguk grunted what he hoped was an obvious agreement, the effort becoming too much for him to force any words out. Namjoon offered a wry smile, his voice amused when he asked, “Is this like a teenage frustration thing? Where did you even get those weights from, I don’t think I’ve ever touched any exercise equipment in my life?”

Another grunt, and then he dropped the weight onto his bed. “Well I know that hyung, if you weren’t so tall I would have won every childhood fight we had.”

“Ha, glad to see you’ve finally accepted that you’re never going to be taller now, it was all nine year old you used to go on about.” He paused, clearly thinking over how best to broach his next question. “Should I be worried over why you’re suddenly weightlifting? Is school getting stressful, I thought you drew to ease that?”

This time Jeongguk scoffed before answering, “Hyung, you’re an artist, when does obsessing over a song ever make you feel less stressed? Drawing is as much like that for me.”

“So what you’re saying is you are stressed?”

Damn. He had walked on and right into that one. He felt guilty as he admitted, “It’s not really school. Just general stuff really; what I talked with you and Hoseokie-hyung about I’ve been thinking about a lot.”

His brother’s expression went from worried to stricken, and Jeongguk hurried to reassure him. “Not in a bad way, I think I needed to hear it. I think this”, he pointed to the weights dipping into his mattress, “is just another part of that growing up.”

Namjoon looked unconvinced. As bad at lying as Jeongguk was, it would be hard for anyone to convince that a sincere talk about changing the way you view the world had merely instilled a desire to increase muscle mass.
But what could he possibly admit. ‘Well today, hyung, I sat with a stranger in a park who I think might be my first love. And he shook my hand and asked my name, and the strength in his grasp is something I dearly want to return’. It was foolish even in his mind.

But he was nothing if not stubborn, and his brother had for years seen him win every battle of wills, so soon gave up on gaining anything more from him. After he had gone, Jeongguk took up the weight, and let the burning pain in his arm clear his head of all else.

….……………………

(he was dreaming again, caught in the wind and cloud high up in the sky alone….and then, a young male face hanging perfect, rain running down the innocent features in rivulets. a drop caught on the lips, and then they were all that was seen…and he knew they were telling him something, and it was important. there were lips on a paper and a pen rolling away. and a cloudy sky and his own hand. outstretched)

He was sweating, feet caught in the folds of the duvet as he startled awake. He was anxious to free himself, threw himself up to fling open the window. And breathe in. In and out. The cool wind on his face brought back his senses, and the dream was a clear memory.

He flopped backwards onto his bed. He had not been sleeping properly for a while, mind too caught up, embroiled in despair, but there had never been a dream as vivid as this.

Rolling onto his back, he stared up to the cracked ceiling of his apartment. Thoughtful. Stretched his strong arms.

And then closed his eyes. Told himself, “You can think about this in the morning,

Seokjin.

….……………………

It was raining again the next week, more of a chill in the air than there had been for a while. Summer did not seem so near after all, a strange limbo of seasons with which jumpers were pulled hastily from the back of closets and commuters’ hands were pushed deep and warm into pockets.

Today, Jeongguk was determinedly not thinking of anything at all. He had put his weights down that night and taken his pen back up, retracing the lines of the lips he had drawn until he had found them perfect. The drawing was now placed carefully in his desk drawer, kept for something though he knew not what. Then he had pushed it from his mind.

Or at least, tried to. He had a whole life to be living that was not swept up in fantasies of a stranger, and it proceeded. So, he spent a weekend, normally.

Schoolwork he was set and really ought to catch up on, done. Regularly ignoring the constant messages in his chat with Jimin and Taehyung, easy. An evening watching Byōsoku Go Senchimētoru with Namjoon and Hoseok, whilst they sobbed into each other’s’ necks: an experience, definitely. And none of this made him miserable. Quite happy, really. But it could not wholly distract. Any minute not spent glaring at maths equations, sending faux angry messages to the chat, or wiping away a stray tear easily hidden when faced with Hoseok’s rather aggressive crying, he was thinking. Thinking of Seokjin.

One return had not answered the questions, rather had driven them greater into his questioning heart. Jeongguk felt he was at the beginning of something. Maybe good, maybe bad. Maybe not even real. But worth exploring. He had not experienced such a wealth of emotion, which was not laced with sadness, for a while. It was overwhelming.

So today, he was not thinking. He was being led.

He had woken, again, to an empty house, and rather than let this pitch him toward loneliness, he had smiled at the clouded sky outside. He had quickly readied himself and left to embrace the rain. There was a storm rolling in the distance.

[‘A faint clap of thunder…’]

Jeongguk was walking fast, ahead of any inhibition. There was a constant downpour, and he was shivering a little in his already damp clothing. He boarded the bus into welcome warmth, and when he had seated himself, abandoned his will to be without thought. Because now he had a new routine, and this journey was deliberate.

It was raining again, and he had a place to be.

….……………………

Seokjin did not look surprised to see him.

There had been a little apprehension for Jeongguk; perhaps he had dreamed just the same for those two days? But it had fled into relief when he had reached the clearing. He attempted to temper the smile that had sprung when he had seen the familiar face, but this was to no avail once one was given in return.

“Jeongguk-ssi! Good Morning.” There was charm and, he was happy to hear, a pleased note to Seokjin’s voice, whom was already offering his hand in greeting. Jeongguk hastily reached to complete the grasp, treading quickly across the metres. No distance remained. He looked keenly into his companion’s eyes, and replied, “Good Morning Seokjin-ssi!”

The strength of grip was still strikingly uneven, and though he was small in Seokjin’s grip, he could not help enjoying the smooth skin and strong fingers, well joined with his.

They had been shaking hands for too long now. It was if both became suddenly aware of the fact, and hastened to drop them. Both were still smiling.

Jeongguk seated himself as usual, and glancing at Seokjin, saw the man bemused at how natural their positions had come. He laughed.

“Jeongguk-ssi, if you had arrived to see me sat on that bench and without this,” He waved a can of beer in his right hand, “how would you have felt?”

He thought he was meant to laugh in return, have banal conversation as most adults whom have learnt to hide themselves do. But Jeongguk had always been shaped better by his pain, unfailingly honest and kind. So he spoke in truth when he replied, “Perhaps a little less worried for you.”

A sober a silent moment. Seokjin had not turned away in shock, angry at an obvious breach into the bounds of the relationship they had. Which was really no relationship at all. Yet he looked calm, if now a little anguished. Jeongguk was cursing himself; two meetings and you become overly personal? Surely he was doomed to stay questioning. He awkwardly retrieved his sketchbook from his bag, hoping the comment would be forgotten.

Then, a sigh. He looked up towards the noise and saw Seokjin was still looking, with a smile equal parts warm to its sadness. He let out another long breath, and said to Jeongguk, “Before you even think about apologising, don’t. Concern isn’t something you should regret.” He reached out a reassuring hand onto Jeongguk’s elbow, barely grazing, but a comforting pressure.

Jeongguk’s skin was on fire from it. His arm leaned unconsciously into the touch, which was soon gone. Seokjin sat back and spoke again.

“But honestly, you don’t have to worry. Not even because you don’t know me, because it doesn’t feel like that at all, but because it’s just this one can, it’s barely 10%, and I don’t need it. Anyway, you’ve seen me drink three cans of light beer in over a week, which can hardly be a problem?”

Jeongguk was unconvinced. He kept any accusation from his tone, but was quick to reply. “So, you only come here when it’s raining also? And you could easily drink ten cans past the hour that I was here.” Stubbornness was one of his leading traits, and he felt in this strange space, he had the right to seek the truth.

Seokjin was chuckling a little, obviously expecting the younger and seemingly shy boy to take his defence without question. He was still smiling.

“I come here when I come here, let’s not dwell on that. But I’m promising you that this can will be the only can I drink today, I hope you can believe that.”

His face was open and earnest, it was clearly the truth. Jeongguk was a little dizzy to have been given a promise, to be trusted. Yet he could not help but say: “I do believe you. But one can will be fine for your health maybe, but I don’t think it should be a habit. A habit can become a crutch.”

The smile had dropped. Still not angry, but a present pain Jeongguk felt guilty to have brought to the surface. He did not know why he was unable to have a simple conversation with Seokjin, he who had so often lived in silence. But everything said here felt so important.

“You’re right.”

The guilt eased. Seokjin was smiling once more, appraising Jeongguk. “How old are you Jeongguk-ssi? Your words are very wise, and your eyes look old, but you have the face of a boy. And the kindness.”

“I’m not a child!” Jeongguk wanted to sit opposite him an equal, wanted his attraction to still be given possibility. He answered, “I’m 18 years old, my birthday is in September. I’m in high school.”

“18. High school of course...Well I’m 23 come December, and I’ll tell you for everyone my age and even above, we’re all still children.” He spoke easily, and Jeongguk had the pleased realisation that he was being considered an equal, and that Seokjin was comfortable with him.

“I’ll prove it to you! What do you call a man with no shin?”

Jeongguk thought this a very abrupt turn in conversation, but seeing the anticipation in Seokjin’s eyes, tentatively replied, “I don’t know…?”

“Tony!” And then Seokjin was laughing, full-bodied and loudly, at his own joke. It was high-pitched chortle, and he sounded so completely free. This was welcome.

It was also infectious; such a laugh from the handsome man before him was a surprise, and Jeongguk was giggling in return, eyes closed, and grinning. When he opened them, Seokjin was beaming at him, gaze glowing with humour.

“That doesn’t prove anything, Seokjin-ssi. With joke like that you’re more of an ahjussi.” His tone was light and playful, his feelings were hopelessly blooming.

“Well then I’m a child because I don’t feel I know anything, and I’m not sure I ever will. Anyway, didn’t you come here for something?” He gestured to the sketchbook, all but forgotten, in Jeongguk’s lap. “I won’t waste anymore of your time.”

He wanted to laugh in disbelief, to tell him; Seokjin, don’t you know I came here for you? Instead, he smiled, settling down to draw. The air was friendly around them, only raindrops and the leaves softly blowing pervaded the silence, but it held no discomfort. Jeongguk dared to take a quick glance at Seokjin, and was breathless again. He had before seemed achingly lovely in his stillness, but this beauty closed around Jeongguk’s airways when touched with this warm happiness. Soon, he was sketching a pair of smiling eyes, still creased with the remnants of laughter, always beautiful.

And then Jeongguk was stretching, moving to leave. He had set a limit on his stay before he had even reached the clearing, knowing without it he might want to stay forever. And he did, but still he grabbed his bag, packed away his sketchbook and stood. Forced himself forward.

“Goodbye, Seokjin-ssi.” This time he wanted to be the one to say, “See you again.”

“I think you could call me hyung, if you wanted to?” Seokjin was looking up at him kindly, and offering. “Goodbye, Jeongguk.”

“Then, goodbye Seokjin-hyung. Thankyou.”

He was so happy in that moment, bounding from the clearing, that he did not consider as to what he was thanking for.

….……………………

It was dry on his walk home, the crisp chill more noticeable in the clear air. Despite the wish of having brought a warmer coat, Jeongguk had a spring in his step. There were only four other people he had ever called hyung in his life; of course Namjoon, and Hoseok, and then, under sufferance, Jimin and Taehyung. All were very dear to him. Every feeling that had sprung in the short time he had spent with Seokjin, had him hope he would be also. And perhaps next visit, he would ask him about the words. ‘Clouded skies…rain will come’? Jeongguk could not remember them all, but he knew they were important. The whispers of poetry could not be forgotten easily.

He had reached home, itching to sit down and look into the eyes he had traced this morning. Unable to wait, he had furtively glanced at the sketchbook during his lunch, and found only a few changes he ought to make. He did not think that he could ever draw Seokjin carelessly.

Thoughts caught up, he did not notice the door was only once locked. Taking off his shoes, Jeongguk overbalanced on one leg, and reached to steady himself on the table beside the door.

His hand hit wood, and as he straightened, the significance of his palm on the bare surface struck him. Viciously. He glanced up through the hall, gaze stopping at the entrance to the kitchen, where stood his mother.

She was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him. It was a small thing, but he could not help his frustration that she had not moved to make sure he would not fall. Maybe she would not have moved even if he had.
Silence. Jeongguk slowly placed his shoes on the rack, took off his coat, and tried to contain his mounting sadness. All out of tasks, he looked back at his mother. His mouth was dry and the only words he could find were accusatory and embarrassingly desperate. He did not want to give her that, so he stood there – uneasily, and mute - until she spoke.

“Aren’t you going to greet me? You look a dreadful mess, I hope you didn’t spend the whole school day looking like that, you’d embarrass me.”

There was not a trace of humour in her tone. Jeongguk’s head bowed in an apology he did not want but was compelled to give; he felt crushed as small as he could be. Coughing once, twice, and then swallowing, he managed a croaky, “I’m sorry. Hello, how was your trip?”

She was still unsmiling, but she straightened in some happiness as she began to talk about work. “Well it was excellent. A lot of progress was made,” she said, “And it means I’ll be even busier from now on; I’ve got a train booked for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” As much as Jeongguk was nauseous in her presence, there was still a small part of him, a young and yearning boy, that wanted her so much to stay. Please just ask me about something, he urged her in his mind, mother there’s so much you don’t know. Just one question, please.

“Yes, tomorrow! Some of us have lives and jobs that we work hard at; we can’t all be swanning around sketchbook in hand!” She sighed, cold as always, and turned back into the kitchen. “Anyway, I’ve already eaten, I’m sure you can cook for yourself by now. I’ve got work to do though, so don’t be in here too long.”

Of course. She would not ask, as she did not care. He forced a smile at her back, and took flight up the stairs.

….……………………

Late that night, curled foetal in his bed, Jeongguk was roused by dim shouts from below. It was eerie and familiar, but had not happened for a long while now. His mother was never home, and Namjoon was older now, had given up on convincing her to love him.

He crept from his bed to the top of the stairs, where he had crouched many times when younger. He could make out the words now, and sat listening: the act of poking a bruise.

“I bet you didn’t ask him once about school or life or anything! There’s a whole world inside him you don’t know about. He needs you to care!” Namjoon shouting was something so terrible, in that it was so wrong to hear him do so, at odds with his gentle soul. Pain laced his voice also, and this hurt Jeongguk as much as his heart swelled with love. They were in this together. Had been, and always would be.

“He should be grown up by now, especially with all the freedom I’ve given him!” His mother was angry, and unapologetic. “You’ve always wanted to make me out as some kind of monster, when I’ve only even given you the best! Why do you think you have this nice roof over your head? Never once have you been damn grateful.”

His brother sounded exasperated, tired of entreaties always denied. “When I was younger, I felt I’d live happy if you gave me one ounce of kindness. I could have been under a bridge or on the street, but I would have had a mother. I expect he feels the same!”

And then she was laughing, and Jeongguk was angry as he had never been before. Her tone was scathing when she replied, “It’s always got to be feelings with you. I really thought you’d grow out of it, but you never did. Disappointing.”

Jeongguk could listen no longer. Though he wanted to race down the stairs, defend his brother, he was still too young to do so. He retreated back to his room, sitting shakily on the bed. Then footsteps, on the stairs.

Namjoon poked his head through the door, squinting in the dim room. His gaze landed on Jeongguk, eyes huge in the darkness and sat hunched on his bed. He smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it. None of it can reach me anymore. After so much of her disappointment, I realised I didn’t want to be the sort of person she would be proud of, anyway.”

This was not placation. As much as his brother took his older role seriously, he had never overprotected Jeongguk. He had always given him the truth, as he could.

Feeling relived, he whispered to his brother in the deep night, “Do you think you can outgrow your own mother?”

He couldn’t see his brother’s eyes, but his grin shone, teeth bare. His voice was quiet and warm. “That’s what I was telling you about moving on. Letting go of the bad things, even if you’ve clung to them for a long time, is growing up and being happier. It’s life.”

….……………………

Walking up the sloping path in the park, a few days later, Jeongguk still muddled by this. The rain today was falling thick: there was a haze of sluggish cloud, and with it an uncomfortable humidity. His gait was slower than usual, as much as he now wanted to see Seokjin, his confusion had worked him up into unsteadiness.

Namjoon had consoled him, but it was a heavy realisation, learning that you did not love your own mother. He would not wish her harm or deny her happiness, never, however it was the first time he also did not want her home. But he knew his brother was enough, his own cares were enough, and so he was starting to let go.

With the letting go, there was a space in his heart that could be filled. It had been dark and cramped with misery; he was ready for it to be roomy, and sunlit.

It was foolish to think that Seokjin, thrice met and almost a stranger Seokjin, could live in this space. And yet, it was Seokjin, beautiful and whom he had already found peace with. This, him, Jeongguk did not want to release.

Apprehension simmered in him, if today was different and the benches were empty, could he handle what he had let go of? Namjoon had Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin would always have each other first. He dearly wanted Seokjin. And he had known, with his absent mother, that it takes more than wanting things to have them.

“Jeongguk, you’re late today!”

He was there, sat right out of any dream. But it was the genuine smile on his handsome face, his hand raised to greet, that had Jeongguk’s heart beating fast. He had a small hope that Seokjin was wanting him – his presence, his company – too.

“Hi Seokjin-hyung. I was walking slowly, lost track of time. Look, I’m absolutely drenched.”

Jeongguk already felt lighter, feeling his burdens might be swept away by that smile. He flicked the sleeve of his coat, sending lights drops scattering over Seokjin. He was hoping for that laugh again.

There was none. Seokjin seemed to intent on scrutinising his features, taking in the weight of his expression. He asked, “Life been getting you down? You’re still young, don’t let that walk slow until you stop, sometimes I think that might be the end.”

He sounded just slightly bitter, and Jeongguk was thinking of how he always found the man sat; still and silent. The worry must have shown on his face, because soon Seokjin’s expression turned rueful.

“Sorry, that might have been a bit much for our third conversation? I’ve got out of the habit of talking to people.”

“No! ...No.” Jeongguk hurried to assure him, hoping to stop Seokjin from retreating inwards. There was only what he wanted to draw from him, not anything he wished hidden. “I’ve just had some difficult days. Or rather, days with difficult decisions.”

He was trying to stop himself from spilling his heart out to Seokjin, who was listening with a careful gaze that reflected his attention. Jeongguk wanted his kind words, maybe his soft advice, but from what he had seen so far, the man had enough worries of his own. He could not bear to burden him more.

So he vowed to be silent today. His mind would not allow for small talk, as it revolved in heavy thoughts; it would be best if he was distant. He sat with his sketchbook, opening it, not sure if he wanted Seokjin to accept the quiet, or drag the words from him.

The man did not speak. Jeongguk’s intentions had been clear enough. Wondering what he might draw today, he took a quick glance at the silent figure. There was a can sat by his right hand, aggressively crumpled and long finished.
Jeongguk felt a stab of concern. It seemed a bad day for both. His eyes lingered on the set of Seokjin’s shoulders. Their size and shape demanded attention usually, but it was the tightness of them, pain set in a sharp angle, which he was now fixed on. He picked up his pen, and began sketching the wide lines.

The rain became even heavier, his barely drying hair spattered even through the canopy above. The trees were shaking, wind skimming their fallen leaves across the stone at his feet. Seokjin remained immovable, shoulders held so taut it was sure to be hurting.

A drop soaked into the paper in Jeongguk’s hand, and he was quickly shutting the book. The drawing was unfinished. But a glance at his watch told him he could not stay; a late arrival had ripped precious moments from him, and he cursed his crawl from bed and house this morning.

He was painfully aware, now, that he and Seokjin were mere strangers. The misery exuding from the man had him fear this could be the last meeting, the last change to ask even when he knew he would stay silent. The drawing would stay unfinished. He turned to leave.

And the Seokjin asked, “What were your difficult decisions about?”

Jeongguk looked at him. The careful attentive gaze had returned, with perhaps the slightest trace of worry at digging deep.

But he was so glad at the attempt to break him open. He said, in a flood, “Well my brother gave me some advice about letting go, and I know I need to follow it, but it’s hard to go through with. It’s hard to forget.”

My brother. It was the first piece of personal information offered between them. Name and age could tell you little about a person, people they trusted to advise them could tell you much. It gave Jeongguk a heady feeling, beginning the bring Seokjin into his life.

“I think I ought to take your brother’s advice also,” Seokjin replied, looking troubled. “But you’re right, sometimes you don’t feel able to let life take you and help you move on. At times I wonder what I could be moving on to.”

Was Seokjin searching in the night for someone also? Like Jeongguk, needing to live with answers, whatever they might be, rather than die with his questions? His heart was calling out kindred across the clearing, but it was wordless and indistinctive. He needed to hear what it was saying, first. Before he said it himself to Seokjin.

“Anyway…Goodbye Jeongguk. I’ll see you next time.”

Next time. He was grateful. He replied, waving softly as he walked away, “Bye, Seokjin-hyung.”

It was not until he was hurrying through the school gates, soaking wet and beyond late, that Jeongguk remembered he had not asked Seokjin about the poem.

….……………………

For the first time, it had rained two days straight. Jeongguk had risen early, peered out the window at the rush of water flowing down the street. Those five weeks spent without rain could be all but a fever dream, what Jeongguk had been waiting for was coming steady now. The rain and Seokjin found with it (in it), had given meaning where there had been none.

His mood was lifted from yesterdays; his mother had left and he not know when she would return, but he was learning not to care. There was someone he was yearning for more, now.

Jeongguk would return today, despite being foolish to do so. He knew the school would start to question his absences soon. Taehyung and Jimin were already suspicious, and last evening, whilst decidedly not talking about their mother, Namjoon had asked him how it was.

(“Fine, hyung. I’m not in my last year yet, so there’s no pressure or anything. I’m just having to put up with Taehyungie-hyung and Jimin-hyung worrying about their applications.”

“If you’re sure. No more stress weightlifting then? Not to be that person, but you might need to start thinking about your own plans soon Jeonggukie. Find your way.”
“I’m trying hyung. Life has been new, recently.”)

But he would return today, maybe next week if it was still raining. Because now in the mornings he was springing from bed rather than burrowing into the sheets, walking with his head raised in the rain, rather than bowed in the classroom. Jeongguk had not recognised the companionship he needed until he had found the beginnings of it.

His feet did not drag today. He was bounding up the path in Jaseongdae Park before he knew it, mind set. Jeongguk had surpassed the first barrier between him and Seokjin’s, the fluster over whether their conversations were out of want or duty. He knew he wanted to spend time with the man, learn about him and offer things of his own also. And he had a reasonable hope that Seokjin felt the same, when he met his eyes that morning.

“Jeongguk! And today you’re early, good morning!” His tone was bright, and with no small measure of relief.

He was particularly handsome today, hair swept back off his forehead elegantly. The collar of his shirt was stiff, and Jeongguk noticed his Adam’s apple bob against it, tight, as he approached. He was running his hands up and down his thighs. Seokjin was nervous.

“Good morning, Seokjin-hyung.” His gaze was not met as he quickly approached the bench and sat down, and he was about to ask what was wrong, worried by Seokjin’s agitation, when he realised. Realised that as his eyes roamed - took in the wide shoulders, dewy skin, and the loveliness never quite done justice in his mind - that the bench was empty. Not a can in sight.

His revelation was noticed, and Seokjin was opening his mouth to speak, looking right at and into him, emboldened by Jeongguk’s shocked silence.

“Yes, I’ve moved on from that. You were right that I was using it, and for all the wrong reasons.” He sighed, and shuffled further along the bench, inching into Jeongguk’s space. “I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I wasn’t sure you would be here, I had hoped, but…well, I’m just glad you are. You see, what I’ve always most wanted is to make people happy, but I took my own sadness yesterday and added it to yours. I shouldn’t have done that. Jeongguk, I’ve been finding peace here and I want you to also. So I’m sorry.”

Jeongguk was floating blissful up in the clouds, thoughts spinning wildly. Seokjin had hoped he would return, had found peace (with him?), but most strikingly, had thought of him after their short time spent together.
This isn’t just for me then, he thought, it means something to him also. Coming back to himself, he saw Seokjin was on the edge of his seat, fingers clenched tight. As if his life depended on what Jeongguk would say next.

He hurried to answer. “You don’t need to apologise, and I’m sorry for offering advice unnecessarily. Though, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not drinking.”

Jeongguk coughed and looked down, and murmured “And I have found some peace here.”

“It’s worth something. Thank you Jeongguk.”

They sat in silence for a while, breaths falling in sync. Jeongguk slid his shoe gently over the surface of the puddle at his feet, glancing at Seokjin from under his eyelashes. The gentle heave of his chest reminded him, and he reached for his bag.

“So, how long have you been drawing?” Lost in the finishing touches of the slopes of Seokjin’s shoulders, he was startled by the question. It was awkward, perfunctory in the way their conversations so far had not been.
Seokjin seemed aware of this too, and rubbed his hand through the hair at his nape. Taking a moment to search his face, Jeongguk understood.

“Hyung, are you…bored?”

“Maybe a little? Sorry to break your focus, but I am interested, truly.”

Interest in Jeongguk? Wonderful to hear. But the looming fear that he might ask what lay on the paper was not so welcome. He swiftly closed the sketchbook and leaned his elbows on the cover, chin in hands. The bend took him a few inches close to Seokjin, and the proximity was thrilling.

“It’s okay. Probably at least ten years now? I do it a lot because I want to get better, but I just love it really. It’s easy in a way most other things aren’t.”

Seokjin had been listening attentively, unconsciously moving closer. He was nodding at Jeongguk’s words, and then said, “That’s quite a while, do you want to continue it after you leave school? It seems special to you.”

He swallowed, unsure. “I don’t know, I’m not sure I’ll be good enough. The only pieces I’ve ever shown to a wider audience are the cover art for my brother’s mixtapes.”

“I think you could be sure, you’re more confident than you seem. You have the air of someone talented. And that’s a good start right, if your brother’s a musician? Surely people will listen a lot and see the art, I imagine he’s talented too. Anything I will have heard?”

Jeongguk could not imagine the soft, clean cut man that was Seokjin listening to any of Namjoon’s angry masterpieces. His brother was a relatively popular artist, but still, well, rather niche. He was only humouring Seokjin’s question then, when he replied. “He goes under the name RM? He raps mostly.”

Seokjin let out a surprised gasp, and excitedly said, “Wait…RM with the self-titled mixtape? With the song ‘Adrift’?”

He was stunned. Seokjin was connected to him by this, had remembered a song that was so precious to Jeongguk also? He could not keep this astonishment from his voice when he answered, “Yes, that was the first full mixtape he released. How did you hear it?”

Helpless laughter, and a clearly mock angry tone, “I don’t know if I should be offended by how shocked you are.” Eyes smiling, he continued, “But no, amazingly, I am not a part of the Korean underground rap scene. My best friend in Daegu is though. He’s a producer and artist. He played me RM’s - your brother’s - mixtape maybe last summer? Said he loved it, thought maybe I would too. I’m definitely a fan.”

Jeongguk tried to piece together this information about Seokjin within the picture he had been trying to form for days. He was undoubtedly a mystery.
Hoping to keep learning more, Jeongguk asked, “Are you a musician then, too?”

“No, no. I like to sing sometimes, but I think so does everybody.”

So then, a model maybe? He was beautiful enough to be, ethereal enough, and they were often known to musicians also. With that face, he could he be an actor also.

Seokjin interrupted Jeongguk’s musings, mumbling what sounded almost like a confession. “I never had that passion or natural talent for anything really. Never loved to dance, or write, or create something new. That’s why I was interested in your drawing, I’m always wishing I could understand that kind of skill.” He sounded sad, but as if he had long since put regret over this to bed. He was resigned.

Was this the frustration Namjoon, Hoseok, felt when he lamented over his insufficiencies? He wanted to lean closer, shake Seokjin and tell him he was more than he thought. But he could not do this, not knowing so little. He did not want to paint Seokjin as some fantasy, perfect in his head, but doing no justice to what was real. So instead he scoffed, and said, “I’m sure you’re plenty talented hyung. What did you like doing when you were younger?”

“Um…” He looked nervous all of a sudden, glancing at Jeongguk’s uniformed chest, then away. It was so quick that Jeongguk might think he imagined it. It was obvious he wanted this subject of conversation to be forgotten, when he just barely muttered, “Well, I liked to read. Poetry and whatnot, but that’s not really important.”

Jeongguk might have pushed further in his confusion, save Seokjin’s next words.

“But at least I have these visible physical assets, right?” He winked dramatically at Jeongguk, whom was feeling his blush all the way down to his toes. Suitably distracted, he gulped as Seokjin pushed his hair further back, extending his pretty neck. “People have always said I’m handsome, I hold onto it.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t worry about it too hyung.” Jeongguk had spoken without thinking, still enraptured by Seokjin’s graceful profile, but with honesty reigning.

Seokjin’s head whipped back around to stare into Jeongguk’s eyes, wistful. “Of course… You’re right again Jeongguk, it might seem dramatic, but, it is both a blessing and a curse”, he said. It was almost a whisper.

His reply was a whisper too, as not to break the sanctity their exchange had taken on. It was also very brave. “I think you’re very beautiful hyung. But I think you’re a lot more too.”

Simply said, perhaps, but all he wished to convey. His heart was a bird’s wings, fluttering in his chest, and he and Seokjin were staring in the silence.

And then, “Are you still feeling peaceful, hyung?”

A smile. “Yes I am, Jeongguk. I’m also feeling known.”

Time had whisked away, even if it felt like only seconds spent with Seokjin. Jeongguk could spend a thousand more just looking at him. But he did not know the consequences of staying, and had been brave enough today, so he moved to leave.

Seokjin sat back to watch, smile dimming only a little. Jeongguk would not hope he would ask him to linger.

(Had he once, though? With the last line of a poem whispered through the rain;

“If so, will you stay here with me?]”)

There was still something worrying Jeongguk, as he slung his backpack on, his hesitantly asked Seokjin, “If you’re bored…Does that mean you’re not going to come back hyung?”

Seokjin reached out, and they shook hands, skin hot. “No. I think I’ll just have to find something to interest me, instead.” His smile was gorgeous, blinding. The one pulling Jeongguk’s lips – far up his face – was shy.

“You know, you have a strong grip.” They were releasing hands, slowly, neither too eager to part.

Curse his blush. Jeongguk was ducking his head, turning away, thinking of the weights at the end of his bed, how he had felt so small when first meeting Seokjin. Now, they were acting as equals.

“And before you go,” Jeongguk whirled around to face him, hopeful, “We’re friends now, right?” At Jeongguk’s furious nods, he continued, “Do you have a nickname? You calling me hyung is great, and I want to treat you as a friend also.”

“No particular one. You can come up with what you like hyung.” He wanted some secret between them, Seokjin to call his name and it to be like from no other.

“Then…I’ll call you, JK? Yeah, JK. I like that!” Seokjin’s voice was excited, and Jeongguk was nodding again, delighted.

“Okay, bye then hyung! See you soon.”

“Hey JK.” He had almost started down the path, but was drawn back helplessly by Seokjin’s voice. “What colour are hamburgers?”

Jeongguk just gaped in the silence. Seokjin was already giggling, body shaking, but managed to stutter out, “Burgundy!” His laughter was ringing through the clearing, an uncontrollable chortle that was so infectious soon Jeongguk was laughing also.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin smiled up at him, and waved. “Goodbye ‘til next time.”

….……………………

School passed in a daze. Yugyeom gave him the work he had missed, with a worried gaze, but Jeongguk could not bring himself to be concerned also. When school had ended, he sat in a daydream for five minutes before noticing the empty classroom.

Strolling towards the gates, walking on air, he nearly face planted into the ground when two pairs of arms, one strong and one skinny, looped around his shoulders from behind.

“Jeon Jeongguk”, a voice shouted too close to his ear, “We’ve been shouting you for a minute now, I hope you’re not ignoring us!”

He turned around, shaking Jimin off softly and then lowering his arm around his shoulders. “I wasn’t I swear, I didn’t hear you at all.”

Taehyung and Jimin glanced at Jeongguk’s arm around the latter’s shoulders, and then at each other, mystified. Taehyung then slowly raised his hand to ruffle it through Jeongguk’s hair.

Bemused, Jeongguk asked, “How were your days? Have you heard anything about your applications yet?”

Jimin was slipping out from under Jeongguk’s arm and wrapping his own around Taehyung’s waist, hand dipping into his back pocket. Then he pointed, started giggling, and said, “Who are you and what have you done with Jeongguk?”
“Jiminie, don’t jinx it! Let’s enjoy him being nice and respecting his hyungs for once, who knows when it will happen again!”

“Hey!” Jeongguk crossed his arms, and stuck out his chin, “I’m always nice to you! I do want to know about your applications though, I need to know where the sofa I’ll be sleeping on will be located.”

Jimin, whom friends could never get a thing by, lowered his finger, said, “I’m onto you, and that subject change. But I know you’re too stubborn to tell us what’s up if you don’t want to.”

They fall into step together. Taehyung and Jimin moved to lace their fingers together, and Jimin put a small hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder too. He sighed before he spoke. “Well I haven’t heard anything yet, and I’ve just been dancing all the time to try and ease the stress. If we stay at home, this one”, he nudged Taehyung playfully with his elbow, “paces around the room talking about plans for the future.”

“Well excuse me for being concerned that we won’t both get into Yonsei! I can’t move to Seoul without you and survive, and you wouldn’t last a week without seeing me.” Taehyung sounded sulky, but Jeongguk could tell he really was worrying. Jimin could too, of course, and stretched up to place a kiss on his cheekbone, and then jaw.

Jeongguk looked away, not uncomfortable, but aware that a longing of his own might start to set in. He said to the two, “I think you’ll both be fine. You’re top class students, you’re interesting…Taehyungie-hyung, why are you so anxious?”

Taehyung smiled back at him, squeezed Jimin’s hand, and replied, “I think I’ll be okay really. It’s just that my whole application I wrote on the advice of my fantastic literature teacher, he’s the one who inspired me to apply for lit. in the first place. And, well, he’s not at school anymore. I just wish I could talk to him about it.”

“What happened to him?” Jeongguk had heard Taehyung mention this teacher before, poems he had recommended, heard Jimin say how good-looking he was as well as an excellent teacher. He knew little else.

“You don’t know? He got put on a disciplinary leave of absence because some stupid kids in my year made up stories about him dating a student. It’s because they were failing. He’s super young and handsome you see, so the headmaster just believed it.” Taehyung sounded extremely bitter.

“Also”, Jimin added, tone scathing, “the kid who made the claim has parents on the school board, so there were no arguments.”

God. Jeongguk felt terribly sad all of a sudden, for the man who had been treated so badly. “That is awful, but you don’t know where he is hyung?”

Taehyung leaned his head against Jimin’s, looking utterly miserable. “No. I don’t.”

“I hope he’s alright though. And I hope he’s not alone.”

….……………………

(jeongguk was smoothing his hand down a neck and over a broad shoulder, touching where he had only been allowed to look…soft hair at his fingertips and then only deep brown eyes, full of secrets that were unfolding before him. a flower being opened for him. there was a high and bubbling laughing running down his spine…happiness flowing over them both like rain. a single drop of rain was running down a glowing cheek and he reached to wipe it off with the tip of his thumb but missed his aim and….it pressed into a soft and full lip. he swallowed, content but a burning fire…)

Jeongguk shot up in bed, body tingling all over. His mind swam for a moment, on the edges of sleep, and then he woke fully. Remembered the dream.

He was a small part ashamed, but mostly thrilled. The mouth in his dream had called no name, but he knew those lips, and though the figure was more relaxed than it had ever been in reality, those shoulders would stand out wherever.

Smiling, he sunk back into bed, pulling the covers up. He wished for rain soon.