Chapter Text
꿈처럼
“Isn’t that a bit mean? I laid unconscious for four days and you didn’t even visit—not even once,”
The rain is still falling rapidly outside the window of his room, seemingly all at once, covering the surface with wet white matter. Truth to be told, his doctor has told him to not move too much, what with his body still recovering and getting used to be able to move again, so it’d be best if he just stays on his bed for most of the day.
“It’s like your body has been asleep for four days,” his nurse said earlier, when she was doing her daily checking of his temperature, blood pressure, et cetera. “Best not rushing it, right?”
Jeongguk has nodded, but has also mentally added to himself ‘no promise, though’.
Anyway, back to his conversation. The person he’s talking to is silent—Jeongguk would think he isn’t there if not for the steady breathing sound he hears. That does not stop him, though.
“You’re the first person I asked for when I woke up.” He whines, leaning further into the backrest of the hospital’s bed. “The audacity. How dare you letting the sick person calling first?” he says it like a joke, though, easy and not in the slightest bit accusing. Taehyung must have his own reasons for not visiting his sick boyfriend, Jeongguk believes. And though he would’ve appreciated it more if Taehyung were the first thing filling his vision the moment he woke up, this is still all right. At least Taehyung picked up the phone.
“Uhm, Jeongguk...” Taehyung says. “I believe you’re calling the wrong number?”
What? Jeongguk takes a look at his phone’s screen, sees Taehyung on it, and chuckles. “Are you playing something? A game, perhaps? Prank your boyfriend by telling them they’re calling the wrong number?”
“Oh.”
That is weird. Jeongguk’s smile falters as he frowns, Taehyung’s tone when saying his oh is so weird, almost like that tone of his he uses when he finds something disappointing and can’t seem to find the right thing to say. Oh. Oh.
“What?” Jeongguk asks warily. “Tae, are you alright?”
Taehyung sighs into the call, “Jeongguk, Jeongguk—” he breathes deeply. “Are you alright?”
“Of course not!” Jeongguk inadvertently snaps. “I got into an accident, been unconscious for four days, and when I woke up my boyfriend is nowhere to be seen and now he’s acting as though we are strangers! Of course I’m not alright!” his head starts to spin and it feels like there’s a very loud engine thrumming inside his ears. Damn. “I’m going to sleep, can you come here later?”
He doesn’t mean to sound so pitiful, no, he doesn’t. But the rain, the stillness of his room, and the white bedsheet seem to violently scream sad, lonely and sad, and Jeongguk doesn’t like the feeling at all.
“Okay.” Taehyung ends up answering.
“Good.” Jeongguk mutters and hangs up.
✧
So, maybe he is not all right, after all.
Taehyung has been sitting at his bedside for the last twenty minutes, his face familiar and unfamiliar at the same time—as though a lot of time has passed since Jeongguk saw him—which is funny, because it can’t be that, but also because that’s what Taehyung has been trying to explain for the past ten minutes, after he settles down, after he takes a look at Jeongguk’s face, at the fresh scars marring his figure, after he weakly mutters,
“You really aren’t all right.”
A minute passes, and the air grows thicker as the silent blankets them more thoroughly. Jeongguk notices Taehyung’s hardening expression, and tries to pass it off with a laugh.
“What were you saying again, Taehyung?” he asks, trying again in the hope of getting different explanation. Jeongguk almost feels stupid with how hopeless he feels, sitting on the bed in his light blue hospital gowns, his insides numb and his face hot. He fixes his position, and Taehyung rises from his chair to help him get comfortable.
Even your smell is familiar and yet unfamiliar, Jeongguk thinks. Why are you wearing different perfume?
Settling on his chair again, Taehyung pulls out his phone from his coat’s pocket and hands it to Jeongguk. He has opened the calendar, today’s date spelled in clear, big font. Jeongguk’s breath almost automatically hitches.
“I don’t know what’s happening to you, perhaps we should check with your doctor—” Taehyung begins to say, and Jeongguk can only listen with his right ear, his left one buzzing with sounds so loud and disturbing he feels vivid pain. “—but it’s October, Jeongguk.”
There, on the screen, Jeongguk sees his life flashing.
Mercilessly, Taehyung continues: “We broke up in December.”
✧
It’s not exactly a case of amnesia, per se. His head has been hit roughly, all right, so things like this happening has a pretty wide chance, his doctor has said. For now, he is temporarily diagnosed with partial memory loss—at least until after the doctor run a few more examination of the symptoms.
Jeongguk can’t believe this.
Not the partial memory loss part; knowing his luck, he probably should be grateful that he’s still alive to this day with complete, functioning senses. More of the fact that he has broken up with Taehyung. That the person he’s wanted to see the moment he awoke is somewhat someone whom he no longer has relation with.
“It’s been a year,” Taehyung explained kindly earlier. “The day we broke up was practically the last time we talked.”
After that, the idea of living suddenly doesn’t seem thrilling anymore. He didn’t voice that to Taehyung, though, because unlike himself, Taehyung seems like he has moved on, like he has put everything connected to Jeongguk aside, like Jeongguk means nothing to him.
It’s been a year.
Apparently his head has been hit hard enough that he lost all his memories of last year, only remembering Taehyung and a life he is supposed to have moved on from. And now he feels dumb, dumb and stupid and boyfriendless, and everything feels like it’s only going to go downhill after this.
Jeongguk must be so deep into his daydream that he doesn’t realise the door jerking open violently, revealing the only person whose presence actually brings comfort to his afflicted self.
“I saw Kim Taehyung outside,” Yoongi utters, carelessly placing the fruit basket he brings on the nightstand. “What’s he doing here?”
“Um.” Jeongguk mutters, doesn’t know where to explain. He takes it Yoongi also doesn’t know that Jeongguk’s lost some memories and still stuck to last year with the way he scrunches his face when he says Kim Taehyung. Earlier he thought he might’ve ruined his friendship with Yoongi, too, and relief washes over him so fast now after he realises that that isn’t the case. At least he’s still got Yoongi.
Oh my, how it hurts knowing Taehyung’s no longer his.
Letting out a shaky breath, he decides he’ll start with that. Hopefully Yoongi will grant him some explanation why and how it happened.
“So, I broke up with Taehyung.” He says, trying to not sound too heartbroken. “A year ago. He was the first person I thought of when I gained consciousness earlier—so embarrassing, I thought he was still my boyfriend. I called him and whined why didn’t you visit me and practically begged him to come here.”
Yoongi visibly freezes. He seems like he wants to ask something but doesn’t know how, so Jeongguk supplies helpfully.
“According to the doctor, I have a partial memory loss.” He points at the huge white bandage covering his forehead. “Kinda makes sense, I guess.”
“Seriously?” Yoongi has taken over the chair Taehyung’s occupied earlier. “How do you feel?” he looks concerned, worried, and it stings Jeongguk so badly.
Jeongguk grins, giving his best to ease the situation. “Shitty, of course.” He can’t help but sighs. “I felt like getting into an accident all over again when he explained that to me.” It hurts so badly, hyung. I feel like he’s the only thing I’ve got but no, I don’t even ‘got’ him.
“Shit, Jeongguk.” Yoongi says.
Jeongguk nods. “I know.”
✧
Coming to his own flat again feels like jumping into a new world unprepared. Jeongguk must have moved in here earlier this year, because even after looking around twice, the place still doesn’t ring any bells inside his head. Even the furniture and layout seem alien to him, like he’s just visiting for the first time, like he hasn’t moved here at all.
“This is weird,” Jeongguk mumbles to himself, placing his bag—credited to Yoongi’s kindness—on the nearest table where a foreign box of pizza, who must have been there for weeks, sits very depressingly.
He walks around for a few more minutes, opening and closing doors to other unfamiliar rooms, and finally decides he’s had enough for the day.
Now, laying alone in the dimlight of the master bedroom (yes, Jeongguk’s also surprised he managed to get himself a flat with not only one decent bedroom but two), the rain splattering gently against the window on the side of the room, he kind of feels lonely.
How did his life get like this?
It’s a silly thought, what with the way things has turned out for him this year—according to Yoongi, Jeongguk is pretty much succesful with his job, he got promoted twice and his monthly salary could cover his hospital expenses astoundingly easily—and Jeongguk feels bad for being so negative for the past few days, so ungrateful, all thanks to his partial amnesia. All thanks to his breakup with Taehyung.
Jeongguk gets a sudden, totally unappreciated, urge to call Taehyung. He wouldn’t mind getting stuck into another awkward situation, so long as he gets to hear the other’s breathe, so long as he gets to usher this bizarre longing and wanting away, even if it’s only for tonight.
But Taehyung will mind. Jeongguk knows he would. Just like he said a week ago to Jeongguk: it’s been a year.
Stupid, stupid fate. Jeongguk hates his accident so much he feels like tearing his head apart. Though he supposes the feeling of hatred isn’t the worst, it’s the wondering and longing that he despises, the nonstop questions of why and how flying inside his head since early morning to late night.
“Don’t ask me,” Yoongi had brought up his hand in a manner similar to I give up when Jeongguk had enough courage to ask him. “You were always secretive about your relationship, remember? I don’t even know why you did what you did, so don’t ask me.”
They linger, the wondering and questioning. They do and they won’t give him a break and now he’s close to tears because he still loves Taehyung, he does, and he knows. Jeongguk’s sure he won’t be able to stop loving Taehyung even if he were to get into another accident and had a total memory loss.
So, why? Why did they break up in the first place? Certainly it wasn’t Jeongguk, right? Seeing that he’s so miserable right now, so sad and so in love. Certainly it wasn’t him.
But it wasn’t Taehyung either.
Jeongguk just knows it wasn’t. It’s like an awareness gained by experience—like the only remnants of his lost memory, that whatever the cause of the breakup was, it wasn’t Taehyung. So it must’ve been himself.
Jeongguk can’t seem to figure it out. And right now it doesn’t feel like he’ll ever do.
✧
“Is debt still has to be paid when the lender doesn’t even remember it?”
Jeongguk puts down his pen and sighs. This has to be the fourth time. Or probably fifth. Either way he has had enough with them, so he turns his wheeled chair to face his coworker better and glares.
“For fuck’s sake, Mingyu,” he curses, and flinches when he realises the language he uses. He’s still in his workplace, damn. Another coworker gives him a thumbs-up as if saying good job there! It’s a little bit unsettling how Jeongguk has no single idea who she is, or how close they were before his accident, while he still remembers Mingyu perfectly. “You owe me 125.000 won. No way I’m gonna let those money go that easily.”
Mingyu tsks, disapproving. “I thought your partial amnesia means you’ll forget that, too, damn.” Then he spins his chair facing his own table again.
That’s when Jeongguk’s hit with realisation.
I didn’t even know Mingyu has 125.000 debt a minute ago, he thinks frantically, I just remember. The memory just comes back to him, wham! Just like that. He doesn’t even get a sudden brief burst of bright light when he does—like those usually shown in movies and dramas with amnesiac characters, followed by the characters acting like they’re getting the world’s worst headache—the piece of memories just shows up right away.
Which is probably a good thing, he decides diplomatically, because maybe Jeongguk will not have to bug the only person who knows the reason behind the breakup—and possibly manage to embarrass himself, if the perpetrator behind his broken heart really turned out to be himself—after all.
“You should probably rest more,” a voice behind his back jerks him out of his train of thought. It’s his supervisor; a woman on her late thirties, very kind and mindful—his brain informs helpfully. “You don’t have to force yourself. You know that, right?”
Jeongguk nods, “Yes.”
“All right, then,” she starts towards another employee’s cubicle, giving him a brief wave. “Just leave a permit on HRD if you feel like leaving early.”
Jeongguk turns back to his table, sees the tall pile of folders from the week before, and sighs. Leaving early? Yeah, probably not.
✧
Lunch is pretty much the only part of the day which excites Jeongguk. Not only he could get a break after doing paperworks all morning, but also because Yoongi’s taken him to a wonderful Korean restaurant that lets him eat all he wants for only 17.000 won.
“What’s with the occasion? I don’t think you invite me to lunch often,” he’s commented to Yoongi’s kind invitation earlier, one hand holding his phone while the other rests uncomfortably on the keyboard.
“Yeah, I don’t,” Yoongi’s replied curtly, “don’t get used to it, kid.”
“Fine, fine. Coming.”
And here they are.
Jeongguk has his plate piled up with so many dishes it’s hard to keep it steady, trying to find a table before he could grab himself a glass of melon smoothie, while Yoongi has his half-empty and has no problem maneuvering his way at all.
“17.000 won for that tiny bunch?” Jeongguk remarks, putting his tray down on the table Yoongi’s pointed for them. “Could’ve spent it better, hyung.”
“It’s helping the owner from bankruptcy,” Yoongi replies, giving an obvious glance at Jeongguk’s plate. Jeongguk snorts.
They spend the next ten minutes in silence, too busy with their delicious food to strike up a conversation. That is, until Yoongi starts to frown at something behind Jeongguk, something that moves, since his squinted eyes follow the movements of it.
At first he tries to put it aside as Yoongi’s being his usual weird self, but the eyes-shifting and glaring starts to make him uncomfortable, too.
“What is it?” Jeongguk asks, casually spins his body from Yoongi to find the object to the other’s obvious displeasure. He visibly stiffens right after.
The guy clads in denim jacket Yoongi’s glaring at is laughing, his face turning into the most gorgeous piece God possibly has ever created, happiness radiating within him. Shortly, Jeongguk understands.
“You probably shouldn’t have taken that much,” the other guy wearing a formal dark blazer says jokingly, taking a look at denim jacket’s plate. “You’re gonna get stomachache after this, believe me.”
No, he won’t, Jeongguk unconsciously thinks. His stomach can always make more room for food.
“No, I won’t,” replies denim jacket. “My stomach can always make more room for food.”
Still positioned before him, Yoongi lets out a harsh breath. “Still know him best, aren’t you?” he accuses.
Jeongguk’s shoulders sag instantly. “I said that out loud?”
“Loud enough that I’m surprised that bastard didn’t hear it.”
“Don’t call him that,” Jeongguk utters compulsorily, shocking himself and presumably Yoongi, too, if the look of disbelief on his face is anything to go by. “I...still don’t know why we broke up. Maybe it wasn’t him. Could be me.” He shrugs as nonchalantly as he could.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, his expression loud with unsaid as if I could believe that. Which is ridiculous, how he doesn’t have to spend a second or two to think about it, as if the idea of Jeongguk being the one breaking things off is hysterically unimaginable.
Jeongguk pushes the thought aside and carefully shifts his eyes towards the table Taehyung and dark blazer are occupying. The two of them appear to be in a deep conversation, Taehyung talking vehemently, and dark blazer listening seriously.
It stings.
Then Taehyung leans back and rolls up his right sleeve to his elbow, smiling widely as he does so. Jeongguk closes his eyes for a moment and lets a deep sigh escape.
“He’s showing him the Elephant.” He mutters. Yoongi shoots him a questioning look, but Jeongguk doesn’t see it, his eyes and all of his senses are focused at the way dark blazer leaning in closer to Taehyung, probably so he could see it better, and some malicious parts in him wish so badly that dark blazer won’t understand, that he won’t get it because the Elephant is supposed to be their thing, Jeongguk and Taehyung’s. Not dark blazer’s. Never dark blazer’s.
Yoongi clears his throat. “Let’s leave.”
Jeongguk refocuses his attention and asks, “Do you think they’re in romantic relationship?”
Exhaling grimly, Yoongi responds, “Are you dumb? What else, do you think?”
“I don’t know.” He says weakly. “I don’t want to know.”
“Let’s go back,” Yoongi urges, and gets up from his seat. Shortly after, Jeongguk follows.
✧
The memories didn’t come back.
Of Taehyung, he means. Of Taehyung and the breakup. Some did, mostly trivial things he can easily get answers to, but not of those he can’t stop pondering about. That’s what drives him mad, the idea that he could know, remember, but only for things he doesn’t give two fucks to. Almost seems like his brain is blocking some things he needs badly in exchange to keep him safe.
“Safe from what?” he says loudly to the silence of his living room. He probably should turn his TV on before he gets too deep into his rationalization, so at least there’d be white noises blaring to accompany him. To prevent him from burying himself too deep.
He probably shouldn’t think about Taehyung at all.
“It’s been a year.”
Yeah, it’s been a year. To think about it, their history is overdue, there’s no need to dig back whatever has passed. It was over before the accident, it should be, too, after.
This too shall pass, Jeongguk mentally lectures himself, it might pass like a kidney stone. But it will pass.
✧
Jeongguk jolts awake with a shriek.
His pillow sheets are wet with sweat, his blanket already thrown, now lying helplessly on the ground, his breathing a raggedy mess. He had a bad dream, of Taehyung.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Jeongguk doesn’t really remember it, has no idea what it was, other than the remembrance that it had hurt, that he’s left feeling pain all over his body—like getting into another accident all over again. Oh, and the knowledge that Taehyung’s hurt, too.
He remembers hurting Taehyung. He remembers Taehyung reeling after he said something, whatever that something was, he remembers feeling like having taken a blow on his chest. Only it wasn’t just a blow, more like blow after blow after blow. They didn’t stop coming, and now he’s an inch away from hyperventilating.
His breathing has turned shallow, tight and lacking oxygen. He tries to calm himself, but it’s too late; his airways suddenly narrows, leaving him shaking and wheezing. He tries to snatch his phone, call someone, I can’t breathe please help, but in his blinded condition he instead pushes it away, his hand slips and he’s suddenly lying on the ground.
I’m dying, he thinks as he lets himself give up, tears streaming down the side of his head, and the only one I can think of is how badly I’d hurt you.
✧
“What do you mean, ‘just let it go, hyung’? You were literally dying, Jeongguk! If I didn’t come, if I had come even two seconds later...” Yoongi paces, his tone rushed and worried. “You would’ve been gone!”
Sitting on the hospital bed, again, just two weeks after being released, with an infusion tube embedded into his arm, Jeongguk can’t help but feeling helpless as ever. It’s true, he doesn’t have any other option than to agree, if it weren’t for Yoongi barging in into his room, he would’ve died. Gone.
It was really severe, the chest tightness and the hyperventilation, they were serious about killing him.
“What’s happened, Jeongguk?” Yoongi asks again. “This has never happened before.”
Jeongguk can feel his head thrumming with pain, he doesn’t even have the power to remain conscious. “I hyperventilated,” he settles on answering. “I thought of something bad, and I hyperventilated.”
Yoongi stares, awaiting him to go on.
“Do you know that it’s possible for you to have respiratory problem just from emotional stress? That’s what the doctor told me.” He chuckles weakly. “Emotional stress.”
“Is it Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks, probably meaning it to be a wrong guess, but seeing the look on Jeongguk’s face, he gets it. He exhales roughly, and makes to get up. “That fucking bastard.”
Jeongguk shakes his head, “No, don’t.” He says feebly. “It wasn’t him. It was me, hyung, I’m the one to blame here.”
“How do you know? Damn, Jeongguk, you don’t even remember where you live or how you get the money to afford the place. How do you know it was you? How could you be so sure of it when you’re this...” he gestures to the bed, “...miserable?”
Jeongguk laughs bitterly. “I know I’m shitty, hyung, and I know it wasn’t him. I don’t remember, but I know. So, just, don’t blame him, okay? Blame me. This is all thanks to me.”
Yoongi sighs, defeated. “Just, find out about it. More. Maybe it could help with this whole asthma attack, y’know? Go ask him, if needed. Get closure and all that shit.” He throws his hand up. “God, Jeongguk, how did you even get here.”
✧
The girl coworker, who gave him thumbs-up two days ago whose name suddenly turns up two minutes ago, Ahn Sora, shoots him a questioning look when Jeongguk fails to keep himself awake for the third time.
“Sorry,” he rubs his eye and grimaces. “Couldn’t sleep last night.”
She nods, but the inquisition doesn’t quite leave her eyes. “Are you alright? You look paler than usually.”
“Yeah, I guess,”
“Wants a cup of coffee?” Sora offers kindly as she places more folders guiltily on Jeongguk’s desk. “Maybe it’ll help.”
He looks up to give him a grateful smile. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
After she leaves, Mingyu rolls his chair to Jeongguk’s cubicle. He has his pen on his mouth, a bad habit of his that Jeongguk annoyingly remembers, and whispers in a gossiping manner. “It happened again, didn’t it?”
“What?”
“The remorse intrusion—y’know, chest tightening, airways blockage...” Mingyu trails off, possibly running out of symptoms to name. But Jeongguk gets it.
He asks warily, “It’s happened before?”
Mingyu nods. “Like, twice a month.”
“Oh.”
The other doesn’t seem to notice the falter in Jeongguk’s voice, or the change of his expression, and continues. “So? That’s why you called in sick yesterday, right?” he snickers. “Tough luck, dude, now you gotta work overtime to get them done. Unpaid.”
“Was it always that bad? The remorse...intrusion. Was it always so bad that I couldn’t breathe at all and have to be carried by ambulance?” Jeongguk urges.
Mingyu gives him a strange look, and then seems to realise. “Oh, right. Partial memory loss.” He mumbles to himself. “No, no, they’re not that bad. You usually just have to sit down and not do anything at all for two minutes. Why?”
Jeongguk shakes his head. “Nothing. Just wondering.” He lies, but deep down he knows he has to get this fixed before everything gets out of hand.
So that’s why he is sitting in front of Taehyung right now.
Taehyung’s face is hard to read, but it’s clear that he’d rather be anywhere else than here, facing Jeongguk, getting questions of that one night in December a year ago.
Jeongguk feels like the distance between them has grown, so much that even if he holds out his hand Taehyung won’t be able to take it, so much that the table between them seems like a wild ocean, blue and deep and unending. He takes a deep breath and tries again.
“I’m so sorry for doing this, Taehyung,” he says, his fingers twiddle unthinkingly. “But I have to know. I...For some weird reasons I don’t understand, I know that I was the one who broke things off. I know that I hurt you so badly. I just can’t seem to remember why—”
“Why?” Taehyung suddenly cuts in, his tone sharp and merciless. “Why do you want to know?”
Earlier today, Jeongguk has planned that he wouldn’t say a single thing about his remorse intrusion, he wouldn’t want to appear pathetic in front of Taehyung. But right now, it doesn’t seem like he has another choice but to admit that.
“I...” he bites his lower lip. “I...”
Taehyung blinks.
“I have a case,” Jeongguk begins to say. “It’s hard to explain, but I hyperventilate when I think of you. My coworker told me it wasn’t that bad, I was just having trouble breathing, and I would get better in just two minutes. But after my accident, after I forgot everything about our...” breakup, “...separation, it gets worse. I can’t breathe at all. It’s happened again yesterday, actually, it was so bad that I have to be ambulanced—”
“Then don’t think of me again.” Taehyung intervenes through gritted teeth. “Do not think of me at all, Jeongguk. We’re through. I have a boyfriend, I’m happy living without you. You should try that, too.” He gets up from his seat, his expression full of hatred and something akin to disgust. “Goodbye.”
Though he wants to, Jeongguk doesn’t stop him.
Right. Dark blazer. Taehyung’s boyfriend. The guy he showed the Elephant to.
What was Jeongguk thinking? The Elephant is their thing? Yeah, right, he wishes.
✧
He decides to walk.
The distance from the restaurant to his flat isn’t close, probably will take him about thirty minutes, but Jeongguk doesn’t care. He needs the fresh air, as much as possible, he needs to clear his mind.
He needs to kick Taehyung out of his mind.
It’s lonely, he thinks, five minutes into it. People he passes either have their significant others with them or their friends, and both are still better than his situation. It’s Friday night, he remembers briefly, people go out their way to have fun. Most probably Taehyung, too. And Jeongguk just had to ruin the perfect night, hadn’t he.
“I’m sorry I had to ruin everything,” he half-shouts into the night sky, not giving the weird looks he gets a single care. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you and myself!”
He supposes he could ask Yoongi to join him, they could go to a bar, maybe. But Jeongguk doesn’t think he has the power to remain not-miserable, to fake being happy, and he’s not exactly in the mood to assure Yoongi that he’s alright, perfect. He also doesn’t want the other to feel burdened to cheer him up.
Alone it is.
The night breeze passes over him harshly. It’s cold, but Jeongguk takes off his coat and holds it in his hand. The cold starts to feel agonizing, slapping his skin mercilessly. Good. This way his mind will start thinking about how cold he is, instead of reminding him about Taehyung. This way the walk will be more bearable.
✧
It wasn’t me.
This time the memory doesn’t come as a nightmare. This time it’s more of a forgotten knowledge coming above the surface after drowning beforehand. It wasn’t him. He says that aloud and earns himself a risen eyebrow from Mingyu, who was busy talking about the new guy at the IT Department.
“What?” Mingyu asks, putting down his fork. He doesn’t even stop talking with his mouth full.
Cautiously, Jeongguk replies. “It’s true that I broke things off, but it wasn’t me—the reason behind it. It wasn’t me at all. No, no.” He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say, the memories that just came up haven’t yet downing it, they’re still unclear and ambiguous. It’s just that he feels like he has to get something out.
“Whoa, Jeongguk, calm down.” Mingyu puts his palms up and bobs his head. “Breathe first, alright.”
Jeongguk does so. “It’s just, it wasn’t me, Mingyu. It wasn’t all my fault, it’s like, there are reasons behind the breakup. I know. I can feel it. The thing is I can’t exactly pinpoint them—” he exhales harshly and retrieves his phone. “Whatever, I’m tired with this vagueness. I’m gonna call him.”
“Who?”
He searches for Taehyung on his contacts and calls him. It goes for a few seconds, ringing and ringing, and then silence.
Taehyung’s rejected his call.
What did he expect, really?
Mingyu sends him a reassuring look that’s really not reassuring at all, but Jeongguk appreciates him for at least trying. That is, until Mingyu opens his mouth again and what comes out is:
“Okay, so, back to me. Where was I again...”
✧
Cooking ramen late at night is so encouraging, Jeongguk thinks to himself as he puts the noodle into the bubbling hot water. Your life might not be well, but you’re still willing to make tiny effort, even if it is as simple as feeding yourself.
The TV is blaring loudly with commercials, he has given up trying to find any channel with decent reality shows or movies, instead just lets it play whatever.
His ramen is done by the time the analog clock in the kitchen points at 11. He places the small pot along with side dishes and a bottle of water on a tray and brings it to the sofa in front of the TV. Settling down, he watches as IU hums about how delicious a particular brand of fried chicken is on the TV, and can’t help the laugh escaping him.
Taehyung used to make fun about his obsession with the petite singer. He once asked Jeongguk in a very concerned tone, “Say, you know IU personally and she’s interested in you, would you choose to stay with me or would you abandon me that instant?”
That time Jeongguk had laughed violently, clapping like a seal until his stomach hurt. “Taehyung, I’m bent.” he’d replied, and Taehyung had breathed out in relief.
But we did end up abandoning each other, anyway, he grumbles bitterly. Choosing IU or not.
He sighs into his bowl. Here it is, the sadness, making a grand comeback that is entirely unwanted. He tries to take another spoonful of noodles but it tastes bland. What a funny thing, considering he usually has a big appetite for ramen noodles.
Minutes pass with him staring blankly at another commercials, his bowl filled with ramen sitting ignored, and everything suddenly feels too much. Does he deserve this? Truly deserves it? Maybe he does, maybe what he did was bad enough for Taehyung to treat him this way. But he doesn’t know it, he has no single idea, for crying out loud. All he knows is that they broke up and it was him who did it, the reasons unknown, and here he is, almost a year after, heartbroken and still so in love.
And Taehyung doesn’t even want to pick up his call, let alone facing him directly.
That doesn’t stop Jeongguk from trying again, though.
“Hello?”
Jeongguk freezes, which is stupid, because he’s the one who called. But he’s also expecting to be rejected, so hearing Taehyung’s voice comes as a shock.
“Hello?”
Did Taehyung delete his number? Because that’d explain everything, from why he finally picks up his call to the questioning tone he uses right now.
“Jeongguk?”
No, then.
Jeongguk clears his throat. “Hi.” He greets, voice shaky as ever. Earlier he’s intended to demand explanation from Taehyung, has planned to be stern about everything. But right now, nervousness seems like it’s eating him from inside, leaving him completely out of words.
“What is this, Jeongguk?”
Jeongguk glances at the clock. “Sorry for calling you this late,” he says. “I just want to...” he trails off. What does he want? For Taehyung to explain everything? Here, on the telephone? That doesn’t seem like a plausible thing to say right now. “Taehyung, can we...meet tomorrow? Lunch?”
Taehyung’s answer feels like a harsh jab to his ribs. “I have a boyfriend, Jeongguk.”
He struggles to keep his breathing steady. “I know, it’s just. I have some questions. I’ll stop bothering you entirely after I get that.” He explains hurriedly, afraid that Taehyung will give him no pity and end the call. “Just once. Let’s meet again once.”
“You still don’t remember?”
Jeongguk shakes his head automatically, and then feels stupid upon realising that no way Taehyung could see him. “I still don’t remember.” He echoes.
“Fine,” Taehyung says. “I’ll text you the location tomorrow. Night, Jeongguk.”
“Yeah. Goodnight.” He thinks about it for a moment and hurriedly adds. “Thanks, Taehyung.”
Taehyung hangs up.
✧
The location Taehyung sends him is of a fastfood restaurant, placed sensibly close to his workplace, which makes him wonder for a second if Taehyung chose the place after taking Jeongguk’s convenience into consideration. He pushes it aside, though, thinking that it must be Taehyung’s decency.
Jeongguk leaves his cubicle as soon as he gets his paperworks done, practically flees the room. He ends up arriving fifteen minutes earlier than the time Taehyung’s chosen, which is fine, since he gets to carefully form his questions beforehand. He doesn’t want to be muteand unable to form words when he’s faced with Taehyung later.
It only takes Taehyung to barge in and every questions he’s carefully formed fall apart inside his head. Damn.
“Before we talk,” Taehyung says in place of greeting, “let’s eat first.”
And here Jeongguk is, thinking that Taehyung has thought of him before choosing the place, as if the guy still gives two fucks about him. Ha. That feels like a slap. Jeongguk nods, though, because at this point he doesn’t think he has the courage to say no to whatever Taehyung says.
Taehyung orders three hot dogs, french fries, and a strawberry smoothie—raising his eyebrow the whole time he recites them to the waiter, as if challenging both the woman and Jeongguk to say something about it. Neither of them does.
Jeongguk isn’t actually hungry, but he still asks for a sandwich and an iced tea. He thinks Taehyung and he could start talking after the waiter leaves to get their orders, but Taehyung is already looking so deep into his phone by the time the waiter’s done scribbling on her notes, not noticing the sad, lopsided smile playing on Jeongguk’s lips.
Fine. He could accept that.
The ignoring continues even after the food comes. Taehyung doesn’t even send a glance towards Jeongguk or utters something like enjoy your food before digging in. That’s fine, too, Jeongguk could live with that. Though it surely feels like getting punched in the face, again and again.
They used to be so in love, his mind wanders. Just three weeks ago Jeongguk still thought they were madly in love with each other. Perhaps that’s why the idea of Taehyung not acknowledging him, hating him, stings so bad. Perhaps Jeongguk just hasn’t used to it.
Taehyung gobbled his three hot dogs and french fries in seven minutes. He looks up right after he wipes his mouth with a piece of tissue, eyes gleaming with something Jeongguk can’t possibly name. His lips curve upwards as he asks, “Does the sight of me eating like animal ring a bell?”
Jeongguk frowns, putting down his sandwich even though he’s not done yet. “Is it supposed to?” he questions carefully.
“Doesn’t it disgust you?” Taehyung attacks again, this time added with a raised eyebrow.
Blinking rapidly, Jeongguk slowly shakes his head. “No? It doesn’t?”
“But it bothers you.”
He shakes his head again. “Not true. You look happy when you eat, why should I feel bothered?”
His words seem to stop Taehyung from blurting out his next attack, instead he frowns. “Really?” he asks, his tone loses its bite. “I look happy?”
“You look fine when you’re eating.” Jeongguk supplies without thinking. “Why? Has someone said otherwise?”
That seems to be the last straw, because then Taehyung begins cackling like a mad hyena, clutching at his stomach and leaning down as his shoulders hunch up and down uncontrollably.
“Taehyung, what....?”
In between his laughter Taehyung answers, “Funny you asked that.” Then he covers his face with his palm, laughing again. A minute or so he starts to choke, and Jeongguk frantically hands him a water bottle.
“Taehyung, what was that?” Jeongguk gathers his courage and asks. “I don’t get it.”
Taehyung simply shrugs, placing the bottle down. “You still don’t remember, I see.” He coughs twice before leaning back, traces of laughter all gone. “It was you.”
“What?”
Closing his eyes, Taehyung starts to explain. “On December fifteenth, the day we broke up, you asked me to meet you at a fancy restaurant we’ve never visited before.” He coughs again. “Kinda stupid of me for thinking what I thought that day, that you were gonna—” he stops, and straighten his sitting position. “I didn’t get to eat. As soon as I sat down, you said,”