Archive of Our Own

Jeon Jeongguk wakes up each morning to an alarm clock blaring in his ear and each morning he rolls over to hit snooze.

Then he usually hits it two or three times after that just to spite himself. Only after a couple of minutes of lying in bed, trying to work up the energy to get up, will he actually drag himself from under his covers and into the cleanest clothes he can find. Then he’ll rummage through his small fridge and inhale the rest of the orange juice and maybe half a bag of potato chips before he’s grabbing his computer and his backpack and he’s out the door to make his 12:30 class.

Ah, the life of a college student. Nobody told him it was going to make him so exhausted. Or lower his standard of living so much that he considered expired cup noodles and some wilted lettuce “a full meal”. Or that his roommate would only ever talk to him when he needed money from Jeongguk. Probably for alcohol, based on the way their room smelled. Their advisor never could find anything, despite how hard he tried.

He has a couple of unread text messages when Jeongguk checks his phone, halfway across the quad and regretting not bringing a hoodie. When fall comes to the city, it comes fast. Now that Chuseok is over, the wind has grown especially bitter.

The first is from Jimin, a friend that he’d made last year. He’d found Jimin lying face-down in nothing but a pair of pink boxers, his face in a flower planter and his feet in the street. Jeongguk had just been passing by—massive parties weren’t really his thing, too many people in a too-small space—with a bag of (rare) clean clothes.

Long story short, he’d felt bad for Jimin (probably because he’s small, Jeongguk thinks smugly) and had given him a pair of pants and a shirt from his bag and had even let him sleep in Jeongguk’s bed. And he’d woken up the next morning with a backache from sleeping on his shitty couch and Jimin had apologized so profusely he’d given Jeongguk a headache. And then there was some coffee-drinking and some greasy breakfasts eaten and everything had just fallen into place. Jimin was friendly and easy to be around, with his bright smile and good attitude, though Jeongguk often complained that it was all a facade and Jimin was actually mischievous and mean and liked to see Jeongguk suffer.  

The text from the Jimin in question read:

   Hey you know my friend yugyeom right? I think he’s in our grade

Jeongguk has heard the name. He showed up on people’s Snapchat a lot, doing body shots, dancing on tables or pushing people into pools. He texts back:

   yeah ive heard of him why

Jimin’s reply is immediate.

   Well he said he was interested in meeting you. And he’ll be at wonwoo’s party tomorrow.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. Jimin, after finding out that all the rumors regarding Jeongguk’s lack of desire to date anyone were true, has been trying to set him up with various friends and acquaintances since. At this point Jeongguk suspects it’s because Jimin just wants him to come to parties and less because Jimin wants him to date someone. They both know that Jeongguk’s too stubborn to give Jimin the satisfaction of success. Not that Jeongguk would want to date anyone in the first place. People say he doesn’t reciprocate. That he never loves anyone back the way they love him. And maybe they’re right, but maybe they’re wrong.

The truth? Jeongguk has never fallen in love with anyone. Not with the cute girl who kissed him for the first time behind the slide on his eighteenth birthday, not with the heartbreakingly beautiful boy that wanted to hold his hand in public—not even with Park Shinhye, or Lee Minho, or even a random stranger on the train. Nobody.

He doesn’t think he’s missing out, and he tells Jimin this. Yugyeom will have better luck with someone else.  

   He’s not looking for anything, Jimin replies. And besides, wonwoo throws great parties. he gets really good alcohol from somewhere.

   Pleeeeeaaseeee won’t you come?

Jeongguk sighs, but can already feel himself giving in. He can’t really resist when Jimin asks nicely, even over text. He reluctantly writes back.

   alright. will i see you tonight?

He pushes the door open to the building his classroom is in, hurrying down the hall to the second lecture room on the left. The class is mostly full, leaving a couple spots in the front or tucked in the far corner. Jeongguk picks the latter, pulling out his computer first and then checking his phone. Jimin has replied.

   You’re the best. And no, you won’t. I have three-hour dance rehearsal and hoseok will be pissed if I skip again.

   I’ll come by around at around 8 on friday, ok? We’ll go get dinner.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and writes out a reply as the professor makes her way to the front of the room, shuffling her papers and setting up the presentation. The last couple of students drift in, taking quiet seats towards the back.

   im already going. you dont need to bribe me with food lol but since youre offering youre paying or im not going

He puts his phone away and grins smugly as it vibrates rapidly, probably because Jimin is a little annoyed now. Jimin is more broke than Jeongguk, and they both know that Jeongguk is going to pick that fancy chicken restaurant for dinner just to spite Jimin and his wallet.

Satisfied, Jeongguk turns half of his mind to the lesson, jotting down notes when it seems appropriate. He’s not really paying attention (European history isn’t super exciting, after all) so he thinks a little bit about Yugyeom. After a minute or so, he pulls up Yugyeom’s Instagram and idly scrolls through it. Yugyeom is attractive enough—dark eyes, a generally brooding mouth, good features—but there’s no flutter in Jeongguk’s stomach. His heart doesn’t swoop, and he doesn’t feel like swooning. But there’s a bunch of videos that Yugyeom’s tagged in where he’s doing something stupid (trying to flip off a wall, trying to walk on his hands, snorting milk out of his nose) that make Jeongguk snicker in spite of himself, so maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

Besides, who knows? Maybe Jeongguk’ll have a good time (probably not, but he can hope) and he and Yugyeom will go back to a room or back to their (hopefully empty) dorms at the end of the night. Maybe Wonwoo’s parties really are as awesome as the rumors say.

The teacher drones on, and for the rest of the lesson, Jeongguk goes back to sleep.

~~~~

When Jeon Wonwoo throws parties, he goes all out. Jeongguk’s feet stall as he cranes his head upwards, mouth falling open at the sight of the house. It’s mostly glass, and even from the street he can see the numbers of people pressed up against each other and crowding into every corner. The bass of the music is audible even from outside and Jeongguk sighs, thinking of the headache that is going to come out of this.

“There better be a lot of shots waiting for me,” Jeongguk mutters. Jimin stops complaining about his poor wallet (they went to the fancy chicken restaurant, after all) for a second and turns to Jeongguk, smirking when he sees his friend’s face.  

“I did tell you this would be awesome,” Jimin says. “And you can’t just leave—you owe me for the meal you made me just pay for.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Jeongguk replies, but Jimin isn’t paying attention; he’s looking at his phone.

“Yugyeom’s inside,” Jimin says, raising an eyebrow at Jeongguk. “He’s your type.”

They start towards the house, Jeongguk more reluctant than Jimin. “And what’s my type?” Jeongguk asks, because he can tell Jimin is waiting for him to.

“Pretty, good with his mouth, and totally uninterested in anything other than hooking up,” Jimin replies, and easily dodges the punch Jeongguk aims towards his shoulder. “You’re only angry ‘cause it’s true,” Jimin sings, cackling.

“Funny,” Jeongguk deadpans. “Wow. I should’ve just left you on the lawn I found you on.”

“Aw, Gukkie,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk itches to wipe the stupid pout off of his face, preferably with violence. “I’m too cute. You could never leave me.”

This claim is severely tested when Jimin throws open the door to Wonwoo’s house, letting heat and music out. A kid, sitting on a stool just inside, looks up from the game he’s playing on his phone.

“Oh, Park Jimin,” the kid says, his thin face flickering with recognition. “Kim Yugyeom’s looking for you. He’s in the back.”

“Thanks,” Jimin replies cheerily, grabbing Jeongguk by the wrist before the latter can make a break for it and flee this place, never to return. “Mark-hyung, this is my friend Jeongguk.”

Mark offers Jeongguk a small wave before going back to his game. Jimin plants his hands firmly on Jeongguk’s back, pushing the two of them through the crowd. “Mark likes to call himself a bouncer,” Jimin tells Jeongguk as they pass the noisy kitchen, where a game of beer pong is happening, and skirt around the edge of the packed living room, where the music is the loudest. “But if you know him even a little bit he’ll let you in. Wonwoo makes people pay for entry to the second floor, though.”

They finally reach the back of the first floor, where a closed-off porch—a little quieter, thank god—spills out into a backyard, also filled with people. The smell of weed hangs in the air, thick and hazy, mingling with voices and laughter that drift through the screens of the porch.

“There he is,” Jimin says, and points to a guy talking to a small girl on the couch, his hand curled around a can. “Be safe, okay? Wear a condom, don’t do it in the bathroom, etcetera, etcetera. Text me if you need an escape route.” Jimin squeezes Jeongguk’s shoulder and slips back into the crowd before Jeongguk can say anything, like wait or get me the fuck out of here or I hate you you’re a dick . He turns back to face Yugyeom, swallowing the nervousness that rises in his throat. Yugyeom hasn’t seen him yet, so he grabs an unopened beer from a tub of ice and opens it, downing half of it in one gulp. Then he takes another breath and looks up, only to find that Yugyeom is already looking at him, head tilted and a curious look in his eye.

Jeongguk goes over to him, and can tell by the way Yugyeom scans him that he looks much more put-together than he feels.

Fake it till you make it, Jeongguk thinks.

“Yugyeom, right?” He says by way of greeting. The girl that Yugyeom was talking to gets up at this time, giving both of them a polite nod and disappearing into the crowd. Jeongguk takes her seat.

Yugyeom leans back. “That’s me. You look better in real life than on your friends’ Snapchat stories.”

Jeongguk, despite himself, grins. He’s not a big fan of flirting, generally, but Yugyeom is good-looking and there’s a smile curling at the edge of his lips. So he’ll indulge in a little bit of banter, just for the sake of it.

It’s better now that the beer’s hit his system, taking the edge off of his nervousness and smoothing out any wrinkles in his mind. “Do I?” He replies, and Yugyeom’s smile grows wider.

“Mmm,” Yugyeom hums noncommittally. “I’m surprised you even came. I’ve heard you’re not much of a party person.”

“Jimin’s more the party person,” Jeongguk says. “But I was curious.”

“About?”

Jeongguk eyes him, not rising to take the bait. “I guess you’ll never know.”

Yugyeom laughs, mouth quirking up. “I can take a guess.” And then he kisses Jeongguk, slowly, with one hand on the back of his neck.

Jeongguk kisses him back, eyes sliding shut. His beer slips from his hands but it’s unimportant, because Yugyeom is pulling him closer and kissing him faster and Jimin was right, he is good with his mouth.

Then Yugyeom pulls back, looking at Jeongguk through half-lidded eyes, lips red and a little swollen. “There’s probably an empty room upstairs,” Yugyeom breathes. “If you want—”

“Yes,” Jeongguk says, not because he’s interested Yugyeom, but mostly because Yugyeom knows what he’s doing and they’re both willing, and he hasn’t gotten laid in probably four months now, his hermit habits have gotten that bad.

Then Yugyeom is pulling him upstairs and the scary woman at the door with the buzzed head lets them pass with a roll of her eyes. And it’s even quieter on the second floor, and everyone is drinking fancy beer or expensive mixers and Wonwoo even waves at Yugyeom, but that’s all Jeongguk can see before he’s in a room on a bed, being kissed again.

And later, a little sweaty and a little sticky, Jeongguk fumbles around for his phone. It’s nearly midnight, and he’s tired. Yugyeom is asleep next to him, having had more to drink than Jeongguk and also a little more comfortable in Wonwoo’s house, clearly.

Jeongguk texts Jimin:

   on my way back. thanks for setting me up w yugyeom. had a good time.

There’s a reply from Jimin’s end while Jeongguk pulls on his underwear and pants.

   Congrats ;))

   Would you wanna see him again?

Jeongguk looks over his shoulder at Yugyeom, drooling a little bit onto his pillow.

   maybe for more hooking up

Jimin takes a little more time to reply. Jeongguk has his shirt on and is back out on the second floor landing when he gets a response.

   Oh. Well, at least I tried. I’ll tell Yugyeom thanks for you.

Jeongguk feels a little bad after reading this. He knows it’s rude to just leave Yugyeom in there, but the idea of pillow talk or waking up the next morning and having to deal with the awkwardness is so unappealing that he absolutely has to go. But guilt nags at him anyway, so he goes up to the girl with the buzzed hair and tells her that Yugyeom is still in there asleep.

She eyes him coolly, not bothering to hide her disapproval. “Shitty of you to leave him.”

Jeongguk cringes. “I just don’t like cuddling.”

“Bullshit,” she replies immediately, and Jeongguk immediately bristles at her tone, going on the defensive. “You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, right? Or you wouldn’t be standing here, would you. You’d just say no to his face.”

“That’s not what I meant—” He interjects hotly, trying to defend himself.

“I know guys like you,” she says, ignoring him completely. She pins him with an even colder look. “One day you’re going to fall for someone so hard and fast you won’t even feel the pain of hitting the ground.”

With that, she crosses her arms and leans back against the doorway, making it clear that the conversation is over.

Jeongguk, unable to resist the childish urge that sweeps through him, glares at her and stomps down the stairs, pocketing his phone.

He pushes through crowds of people, finally finding the front door again. Mark’s seat is empty, and the cool air is a relief, the sweat on his forehead drying.

He doesn’t know when the last train runs, but it’s close enough that it won’t hurt to at least check and see. He makes his way over to the train station under the glow of the streetlights, the rustling of the trees and the distant sound of cars the only sound besides his own steps.

The last train comes in three minutes, so he scans his pass and steps onto the platform. The girl’s words aren’t sitting well with him, her matter-of-fact expression and her surety annoying him. How can she know anything about who he is? Or claim that she knows what’s going to happen to him, or that it’ll even happen to him at all?

Fall hard and fast, huh, Jeongguk thinks, and snorts aloud.

The train comes, and he and one other person get on. They sit opposite from each other, and Jeongguk doesn’t notice him at first, because he’s too busy trying to figure out what to text Jimin so Jimin can text Yugyeom. Sorry doesn’t sound right. Thanks for a good time sounds sleazy. See you soon is making a promise he doesn’t know if he can keep.

The train pulls into another station, and the other person gets up to get off of the train. It’s this movement that gets Jeongguk to look up, a reflex. It’s a guy his age, a hat pulled down over his ears and his hands shoved into his pockets.

Jeongguk looks up, and so does he other person, on the outside of the train. And it feels like all the air has suddenly been sucked out of his lungs, like time has stopped, like everything has tunneled down to focus on the pair of eyes that have met his halfway, through the foggy glass of the window. And it feels like he is being torn apart and put back together, like a puzzle finally complete, or leaves finally settling on the ground after a storm.  

The eyes are dark brown, a shade darker than the hair that curves over a tanned forehead, and the mouth that falls open in shock is red with cold. He takes a half-step closer to the train again before the moment is broken and the doors close, the train pulling out of the platform and towards the next stop.

Jeongguk sits there in half-stunned silence, his mind furiously trying to make sense of what just happened, demanding answers from his stuttering heart and racing pulse. He can’t shake the feeling of those eyes on his, or the way that mouth fell open in surprise, like whatever Jeongguk was feeling, the other boy felt it too.

But it was nothing, right? It had to be. This isn’t a fairytale, or one of those movies where two people just fell into each other, like fate and coincidence had schemed to get them together. This was real life, where people got hurt and where Jeongguk didn’t fall in love, where he’d never felt anything like that—ever.

It had to be a fluke. A dream. An aftereffect of really great sex. All of the above.

On his phone, there’s a text from Jimin.

   You’ve been quiet for a really long time. You okay? Did you realize you’re secretly in love with Yugyeom, or something?? lol

Jeongguk swallows hard.  

   haha no i’m on the train be back at the dorms in one minute this is my stop

He turns off his phone and gets off of the train, back under the dark sky and the yellow streetlights. He’s able to shake the last of the feeling as he walks back through campus, all the buildings blue-purple in the nighttime.

But the color of the stranger’s eyes paint his dreams that night, gold-brown and infinitely beautiful.

~~~~  

The universe has a twisted sense of humor, Jeongguk decides a week later, when he jerks himself out of a half-baked daydream where he gets off train instead of staying on, where he reaches out to touch the owner of the eyes that follow him everywhere.

He hasn’t told Jimin, or any of his other friends, mostly because he knows they’ll make fun of him, but partially because he’s afraid that if he says it out loud, it’ll become real. He’d be forced to admit that a completely random stranger changed his whole life and sucked all of the air out of his world in the span of maybe two seconds. Two seconds—that’s all it had taken for things to tangle up inside of him.

He doesn’t register everyone getting up and leaving until someone puts his hand on his shoulder. He starts, but it's just Jung Eunbi (Eunha, as her friends affectionately call her), looking at him with concern on her face.

"You alright, Jeon?" She asks, face pinching with concern. "You've been out of it for like, the last five lessons."

He nods. "I'm okay. I just...I have a lot on my mind." He doesn't really want to tell her what has been the cause of him spacing out recently, but Eunha drags a chair from another desk and plops down in it, propping her chin in her hands. She turns an expectant gaze onto him and Jeongguk feels embarrassed at the attention. Now he really really doesn't want to talk about it, but she looks so ready to listen that he collects his thoughts, organizing his story. He won't tell her about what happened on the train, he decides, but he'll tell her about his predicament with asking for advice.

"So something really strange and embarrassing happened," he says to start. Curiosity immediately lights Eunha's eyes, but she gestures for him to go on. "And all of my friends are pretty terrible and I just know they'll laugh at me if I try to talk to them, and not to mention they're all single, and can't offer me any advice at all." The words tumble from his lips--he's not even sure if he's coherent--eager to escape after days of being kept inside, left to fester and worry him to death.

Eunha taps her lips. "So it's love trouble. Hmm. Do you know Kim Seokjin?"

Jeongguk thinks for a second. "He's dating Kim Namjoon, right?" He's met Namjoon briefly; they shared a blunt in the basement of some med student's house. It was pretty weird, but Namjoon was really cool otherwise. He was one of those people that managed to pull off strange and cool at the same time, effortlessly.

Eunha nods. "That's the one. You haven't met him?" At Jeongguk's shake of his head, she keeps going. "Well, he has weekly dinners every Wednesday for his friends. We're all allowed to invite someone, and I could bring you, if you want. He's an excellent listener. And he'll tell you really bad dad jokes and give you really good advice. It starts in about an hour. I can drive us."

Her face is so kind, so accepting and warm (despite his embarrassing confession and pity rant) that he feels himself shying away from her, drawing away from her warmth like he might be burned. "No thanks," he says politely, but her face doesn't fall. She just shrugs and stands, shouldering her backpack.

"Next week, then," she says cheerfully. "Good luck until then. You have my number; let me know if you need someone to talk to." She looks him dead in the eye then, suddenly serious. "But I think you should at least try talking to your friends. They might surprise you."

"Right," Jeongguk says doubtfully. Like that will happen. He can picture Jimin's face, smug and laughing at him, and cringes inwardly. He had a reputation to uphold and a pride to protect, anyway. There must be a funny expression on his face because Eunha laughs at him, patting him on the shoulder before exiting the classroom.

Jeongguk sighs and drops his head into his hands. He's pathetic. He's the lowliest of lows. He doesn't even know this guy's name, but hasn't been able to get the color of his eyes out of his head for the last week. They literally made eye contact once on a random train station--

Wait. The train station. The stranger had gotten off two stops before the university, right? Maybe he lived around there. Maybe he was a student here. But if he wasn't living in the dorms, then he was probably a junior or maybe a senior student.

Jeongguk shakes his head roughly, stopping himself before he can get his hopes up. It's one man in this whole entire city. He could be anywhere, be anyone. He might not even be a permanent resident here. He could've been visiting.

Despair is about to swallow Jeongguk when his phone buzzes just then, twice: one text from Eunha, and another from Jimin. He opens Jimin's first:

   Hey me and Hoseok are going to karaoke and Yugyeom will be there too do you wanna come

Eunha's is similar to Jimin's, but completely different:

   jeon jeongguk I have been sitting outside of this building waiting for you to come out that's it we're going to seokjin's you have no say in this anymore

He moves to text back Eunha, thinking something along the lines of no thank you, I'm okay, I have other plans before she bursts back into the classroom and grabs the back of his shirt. Jeongguk barely has time to shove his stuff into his bag and pull his jacket on before she's hauling the both of them out of the classroom and outside.

"You are the most pathetic, mopey person I've ever seen," she says, but there's warmth in her tone that that tells Jeongguk she's laughing at him. What is it with the women he's met recently and them kicking his ass? Even though he knows he deserves it (everyone needs a good ass-kicking every now and then) he's two for one at this point, and both times have been because of his extremely fucked-up and inconsistent love life.

Eunha unlocks her car, a small, battered blue thing with duct tape over the rearview window.

Jeongguk digs his heels into the pavement. "That is a death trap."

Eunha pats the hood of her car good-naturedly. "Don't hurt her feelings and get in." She yanks the door open for him, ignoring the awful squeal the car makes as she does.

Jeongguk reluctantly gets into the passenger seat, and texts Jimin.

    i cant tonight, im going to kim seokjins for dinner?? jung eunbi from my computer communications class is forcing me to go

Jimin replies a couple minutes later, after Eunha starts the car and they start towards the campus apartments, where Namjoon and Seokjin supposedly live.

    Wow I didn't know you knew him! He's gorgeous and gives good advice. Tell him I say hello!

...and that's it. No questioning, no teasing, just...acceptance. But it's completely different over text, Jeongguk is sure. How is he supposed to explain the train incident over text? He puts his head back against the headrest. This whole thing is fifty times more complicated than it needs to be, but this Jeon Jeongguk. His whole life is a series of unsaid things, crippling regret and unhealthy emotional expression (or lack thereof). No wonder Eunha is forcefully dragging him to Seokjin's. He's a mess. He can admit that much.

Eunha stops her car in front of a narrow apartment that looks like it’s going to blow over with the next gust of wind. There’s a lot of mail on the front steps and the yellow paint on the door is peeling and the concrete steps going up to it are chipped, weeds pushing through the cracks.

He quickly arranges his face into what he hopes is a neutral expression when Eunha opens his door and gestures for him to follow her.

Standing in front of the sad yellow door, she presses a bell with the name ‘Kim’ written next to it in neat handwriting. A second later, the door unlocks and swings open to reveal Kim Namjoon in a wrinkled t-shirt advertising an old Drake tour and a pair of sweatpants that are a really unfortunate shade of pink.

“Hi, oppa,” Eunha says cheerfully. Namjoon’s face breaks into a smile and he leans forward to give Eunha a brief hug.

“Eunha-yah,” he replies, looking her up and down. “You haven’t come in so long! It’s good to see you.”

“I’ve been really busy,” Eunha says, sighing. “I had an internship at a startup for a while, but after three months of living on cup ramen and chips I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Namjoon’s eyes find Jeongguk over Eunha’s shoulder. “Jeon Jeongguk, right?” Namjoon’s voice and face are nothing but friendly, but Jeongguk feels intimidated anyways. Namjoon is one of those people that seems to radiate intelligence, like he can raise a room’s IQ just by being in it.

“He needs some advice and a meal other than takeout,” Eunha says for him, and Namjoon laughs, cheeks dimpling. He lets them both in and leads them up to the second floor, where he stops in front of the last door on the right. He pats his pockets, then turns to Eunha with an annoyed look.

“I forgot—” he starts, but never finishes because the door is opened by none other than Kim Seokjin, holding a set of keys and looking at his boyfriend with a half-exasperated, half-amused expression on his face.

“Your keys,” Seokjin finishes for him, and Namjoon sheepishly pockets them. Seokjin sighs and pats Namjoon’s face fondly. “Sometimes I think your practical intelligence accidentally got converted into IQ points,” he says, and lets them all into the apartment.

Jeongguk is immediately overwhelmed. The place is small and brightly-colored and filled with a mix of people and smells. Noise ricochets off the walls; someone is losing at Mario Kart and is not happy about it. The apartment is a strange mix between a complete mess and very clean. Stacks of papers and open books litter the various surfaces, and Jeongguk swears he sees a computer wedged in between the couch cushions. But the houseplants are alive and there are no dishes in the sink; even the pictures of the wall seem to be dust-free.

Eunha introduces Jeongguk to Seokjin before she enters the living room with him, being welcomed by shouts of excitement and recognition. Namjoon hangs back with Jeongguk, seemingly content with letting the younger try to accommodate the sensory overload.

“It’s a lot,” Namjoon admits quietly. “I’m not much for giant, rowdy groups of kids in my apartment, but Jin really likes having them over. He likes cooking and hanging out, and I owe him that much.”

“How…how long have you guys been doing this?” Jeongguk manages, watching one kid with dark hair attempt to hit his friend in the face with his Wii remote.

“About two years now,” Namjoon answers. “Jin missed cooking for his family, and he works so hard that he’s never really able to get out. So this was our solution: he gets to cook and see new faces. And I can’t complain, either. He’s an excellent chef, and he knows it.” Namjoon gets a fond look in his eyes when he says this, and Jeongguk is torn between gagging and feeling jealous. Probably the first, because he can’t even begin to imagine what being this much in love feels like.

Namjoon looks like he’s going to say something else, but instead opts for giving Jeongguk a pair of slippers to borrow. Seokjin waves him over as soon as his shoes are off, where the Mario Kart war has been paused so introductions can be made. Jeongguk waits for Seokjin or Eunha to introduce him before realizing they’re waiting for him to do the same. He does so awkwardly, nearly forgetting to include his first name. Then the rest of them introduce themselves: the dark-haired boy is Bambam, the girl with bright red hair is Yerim and the guy in the striped shirt is Youngjae. Youngjae and Bambam have been coming for the longest, followed by Eunha and then Yerim, who met Seokjin three months ago and has been coming ever since.

“Jeon Jeongguk, right?” Bambam asks, narrowing his eyes. “Do you know Kim Yugyeom?”

The question is so weird and off-topic that it catches Jeongguk off-guard, so he nods before he can think it through. Bambam eyes him some more, looking ready to ask another question before Seokjin claps his hands and announces that dinner is ready and if they want to eat they better help him set the table. Bambam is still giving him a suspicious look, but Youngjae says something that makes Bambam laugh, and Jeongguk escapes into the kitchen to help with the table setting. He decides he’ll ask Yugyeom later about Bambam.

If he survives this dinner first.

~~~~

Jeongguk shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the table, unsure of what to do with his hands. He's sandwiched between Bambam and Eunha, who looks at him and gives him a smile. Jeongguk tries his best to return it, but isn't sure it works very well. He feels incredibly out of place in this small, warm apartment, sitting at a crowded table with six other strangers that chat and laugh with each other like they're family. And maybe they are--not that Jeongguk would really know what true family feels like. His parents work hard, and as a result, it was often him and his brother left to fend for themselves.

Seokjin comes out of the kitchen with the final dish, a giant pot of seaweed soup.

"I tried to get Namjoon to go to the store for me but he only remembered the seaweed and nothing else," Seokjin says as he sets it down on the table, slapping Bambam's hand away when he goes for a side dish. "So eat a lot, okay? Dinner is important."

As soon as Seokjin sits down, the table flies into a frenzy. Hands and chopsticks flash and drinks are nearly upended as everyone rushes to get to the food first. It is so unlike anything Jeongguk has ever seen--loud, rowdy, unsophisticated and mannerless--that he sits there in shock as Eunha ladles soup for them both into their bowls.

A chorus of 'thank you for the meal!' goes around the table and then silence falls as people to proceed to inhale their food. Seokjin, sitting between the girl with red hair—Yerim, Jeongguk recalls—and Namjoon, smiles around at them all.

"Hyung," Bambam says to Seokjin around a mouthful of kimchi, "aren't you going to get any?"

Seokjin laughs. "You all have made such a mess," he points out. "And I already ate. And now I get to watch you enjoy the food I made."

Seokjin turns to Jeongguk, who snaps his eyes down as soon as he realizes he's staring, mouth slightly agape. "Jeongguk, was it?"

Jeongguk nods.

"Eat the soup while it's hot, okay? And you can take more than that, if you want. I don't want you getting sick." Seokjin's face is so kind, a proud little smile on his face. He's a combination between exasperated and amused, watching all of his friends and his boyfriend devour everything on the table like this is their last meal.

Jeongguk's throat goes dry and his eyes prick painfully. But he nods anyway, and starts on his soup.

It's the best he's ever had.

~~~~

Because he's a new guest, Jeongguk volunteers to help with the dishes. Seokjin valiantly tries to decline, but Jeongguk plants himself in front of the sink, and the discussion ends. He washes and Seokjin dries, because Namjoon had tripped over the dishwasher door and had broken it, which Seokjin discovered only after he'd attempted to run a load and had ended up with an inch of water in the kitchen.

"Eunha said you were in need of an ear," Seokjin says casually, breaking the silence.

The bowl in Jeongguk's hand nearly breaks when he drops in the sink. "Oh. Um," he says eloquently. Seokjin laughs, picking up the bowl and rinsing it.

"You don't have to talk you don't want to," Seokjin says frankly. He dries off the bowl, looking thoughtful. "If I'm being honest, Joonie's probably a better listener than I am," Seokjin says conspiratorially, like he's sharing a secret, "but doesn't try to make himself very approachable. As soon as he fixes that problem, I think he'd make an excellent mother."

"I heard that," Namjoon says from the living room, where the rest are back to fighting over Mario Kart.

"I'd love you anyway, mother or not," Seokjin replies, and turns back to Jeongguk, who hasn't really been paying attention. He was mostly thinking about how he'd even start to explain something like this. And what Seokjin's reaction could possibly be.

Seokjin doesn't push him, just waits, drying the dishes that Jeongguk hands him as the younger gathers his thoughts and his courage.

"Hyung," he begins cautiously, gauging Seokjin's reaction, "do you believe in love at first sight?"

Seokjin looks surprised at the topic, but he takes a second to think about it. "It depends on how you define love, but yes, I do."

"Well, I don't believe in it," Jeongguk admits, and now Seokjin looks confused. Jeongguk races to clarify, "I mean, I just don't fall in love. At all. Or...I haven't? But I was on the train the other day and--

Jeongguk is cut off by the sound of the front door slamming open. Both he and Seokjin pause, turning to see who it is.

"I’m back, Seokjin-hyung," an unfamiliar voice yells, "and they didn't have the flavor of chips you guys wanted so I just got mochi ice cream instead." Someone bursts into the kitchen--a guy about his age, his face obscured by grocery bags, which he unceremoniously dumps onto the ground.

He stands, brushing off his hands. "I hope you don't--"

He stops short the second he sees Jeongguk, all words dying on his tongue.

Jeongguk actually drops the cup he's holding this time, glass shards skittering over his slippers and all over the floor.

He doesn't notice.

Because the eyes that have locked onto his not only mirror the exact same shock and disbelief and recognition, but they are the exact pair of eyes that he's dreamed of every night, ever since he first saw them on the train.

~~~~

It is a good couple of seconds before anyone moves. And even then, Jeongguk feels like time has stopped, like every muscle has been frozen by the look in the other boy's eyes.

Seokjin, who seems to understand first, lets a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Jeon Jeongguk," he says, "meet Kim Taehyung."

Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung . It fits so easily into his mind, like a puzzle finally complete. It fills him with warmth, enough that he finally escapes the time vortex between them and moves forward, jerky and slow. Taehyung blinks at the same time, but the intense look in his eyes doesn’t go away.

"Hi," Jeongguk says after a second, breathless.

"I think I've been waiting my whole entire life to meet you," Taehyung replies quietly. He brings his hand halfway up, like he’s going to touch Jeongguk, before deciding against it and clenching his fingers into fists at his side.

Jeongguk can do nothing but breathe and blink and try not to pass out, because Taehyung is real, and he’s here, right in front of Jeongguk.

The moment shatters as Namjoon pokes his head into the kitchen. Taehyung, tearing his eyes from Jeongguk, goes to greet his friend.

“I see you’ve met Jeongguk,” Namjoon says, completely oblivious to the tension between them, so palpable that Jeongguk can taste it, settling on his tongue and in his lungs like smoke. “Did you bring the desserts?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says distractedly, because his eyes have found Jeongguk’s again and Jeongguk feels himself being pulled up and away from his body, everything falling away except for Taehyung’s eyes on his.

Namjoon is going on about plates and if they have enough clean spoons before Seokjin lets out a small, exasperated sigh. “Namjoon,” Seokjin says very pointedly, grabbing his boyfriend by the elbow, “why doesn’t Taehyung show Jeongguk the flowers on the balcony?”

Namjoon looks confused for a second, but after a minute of silent eye communication (couples that can do that have always weirded Jeongguk out a little bit) Namjoon nods, picking the grocery bags off the ground. Seokjin ushers both Jeongguk and Taehyung towards their tiny balcony, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as they’re alone, Taehyung faces him. “You haven’t said anything,” Taehyung says. “Am I the only one who felt that on the train the other day?”

Jeongguk shakes his head emphatically. He doesn’t really know what to say, now that he’s here, but he doesn’t want Taehyung to feel like it was a one-sided thing.

“Okay, good,” Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief. “Otherwise we broke Seokjin’s glass for nothing.”

Jeongguk crosses his arms. “I try not to break things that aren’t mine. I was just…”

“Just what?” Taehyung prods curiously, mouth threatening to pull upwards. “Surprised? Stunned?”

All of the above, Jeongguk thinks, but opts for shrug instead. Taehyung, miraculously, seems to understand.

They stand in silence for a second, just looking at each other, as Jeongguk tries to find something to say next that won’t embarrass him.

“Do you wanna go out for coffee sometime?” He blurts out instead, and feels his cheeks heat. At least I tried, he thinks miserably, trying to ignore how his palms are starting to sweat.

Taehyung’s mouth twists into a small smile, and he looks like he’s going to laugh, but instead he nods. “Sure,” he says, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket and offers it to Jeongguk. “Put your number in?”

“Um,” Jeongguk says, and takes it. He nearly drops it as he types in his number and name, fingers leaving tiny sweat smears on the screen as they stumble over the keyboard.

He gives Taehyung his phone back and surreptitiously wipes his hands on his jeans. A second later, Jeongguk’s phone buzzes, an unfamiliar number displayed on the screen, followed by:

   hey jeongguk this is taehyung !!!!

There are an absurd number of emojis and stickers that follow this text, but Jeongguk finds it incredibly endearing. He ignores the way his heart squeezes and instead watches Taehyung lean forward, resting his arms on the railing of the balcony. Weak moonlight filters down through telephone cables and the lights on the street, washing his hair in a  silver-white glow.

“I wanted to believe that I’d see you again,” Taehyung says, his voice low. He turns to look at Jeongguk, something bright and unfamiliar in his eyes. “That maybe destiny, or fate, had something in store for us. Do you ever feel like that? Like you’re on a chosen path?”

“Not really,” Jeongguk says honestly, but Taehyung’s face doesn’t fall—he merely looks thoughtful. “I mean, I don’t like the idea of being on a chosen path. I like thinking that I make my own choices.”

Taehyung laughs. The sound is sweeter and more silver than the moonlight. “You seem like the type that would believe something like that,” he admits, and laughs again. He turns his gaze to Jeongguk, who once again feels like he’s sinking and soaring at the same time, time stuttering along with his heartbeat.

“Is that a bad thing?” He finds the courage to ask after a moment. Taehyung stops laughing, though his eyes still glimmer amusedly.

“No,” he decides after a minute. “That’s not a bad thing at all.”

~~~~

Over the next week or so, Jeongguk learns about Kim Taehyung. He learns about Taehyung’s love for kids, for art, and for sitting by the beach and not having to say anything. He learns that Taehyung smiles with his whole body, that he seems to laugh from the very bottom of his heart, that his hands are always warm, that he always wears mismatched socks, and that the ring on his right middle finger is his grandmother’s.

Jeongguk, without even thinking, files these things away to the back of his mind, where he takes them out when he’s bored or listless and sorts through them. Then he’ll smile, because it’s proof that Taehyung is real and Jeongguk somehow had the miraculous chance to meet him again.

And maybe he should be a little worried after Taehyung kisses him five days after meeting. And maybe he should be a little worried in the way they get tied up in each other, like there’s no power in the universe that could separate their bodies. But it feels nice—really nice, actually, to see Taehyung this often. So Jeongguk doesn’t think too hard about it, and tries to enjoy it.

Jimin notices his good mood while they’re watching TV in Jimin’s apartment. “You meet someone?” He asks sweetly, dodging Jeongguk when the younger moves to push him off the couch. He takes this as confirmation, scooting in close and propping his chin on his hands.

“I didn’t meet anyone, dumbass,” Jeongguk mutters. “And if I did, I wouldn’t be this happy about it.”

Jimin clearly doesn’t believe him, based on the look he gives Jeongguk.

“I don’t, ” Jeongguk says—because no matter what Jimin says, or what his brain seems to be telling him, he’s not interested in dating Taehyung,he’s just…interested, is all. That’s it. To stress his point, he adds on, “have you talked to Yugyeom recently?”

Jimin gives Jeongguk another look, but goes along with Jeongguk’s obvious, desperate subject change. “Yeah, I saw him yesterday,” Taehyung says. “He’ll be at Jackson party on Friday. Do you know Jackson?"

“I’ve met him,” Jeongguk says. “At, um, Kim Seokjin’s. This Wednesday.” Jackson had shown up with Bambam and had dramatically lamented about how he’d suddenly developed decidedly non-bro (as he’d put it) feelings for his best friend.

Surprise flickers across Jimin’s face. “You’re still going?”

Jeongguk shifts uncomfortably. “Why is that such a surprise?” He clears his throat, trying to tamp down the hurt that follows Jimin’s statement, and makes a move to get off the couch.

Jimin immediately reaches out and grabs Jeongguk’s hand, tugging him back down. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Jimin apologizes sincerely. “I’m happy for you, actually. You need something like that.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jeongguk demands, but Jimin only gives him another sweet smile and pats him on the face.

“So you’re in for Jackson’s party? I’ll tell Yugyeom you’re coming.”

Right. Yugyeom. “Yeah, sure,” Jeongguk says, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’ll be there.”

~~~~

Mark is sitting by the door when they walk into Jackson’s house. Jimin laughs when he sees him there and asks why Mark is playing bouncer at his own house. Something clouds Mark’s face at Jimin’s words, and his eyes flicker over to Jackson, who’s got an arm around a pretty boy with blond hair, a drink in his other hand and a broad smile on his face.

“It’s better over here,” Mark says simply, and goes back to scrolling through Twitter. “Hurts less.”

“Do you have a headache?” Jeongguk asks, confused, but Jimin shoots him a glance that says don’t push it.

“See you later, Mark-hyung,” Jimin says quickly, and drags Jeongguk away from the door and into the party. “Oh, there’s Hoseok,” he shouts in Jeongguk’s ear, trying to be heard over the music. “I’m gonna go say hi, okay? Go find Yugyeom. He said he’s looking for you.”

With that, Jimin slips away, swallowed by the throng of people. Jeongguk is immediately overwhelmed without Jimin at his side. He’s buffeted left and right and nearly gets a drink spilled down his front on his way to the kitchen. When he makes it there, he has to take a moment to breathe, standing by the window and choking down cool air. There’s a hand on his back and the faint smell of expensive cologne and he knows it’s Yugyeom—he’s had these hands on his back before, for long enough to know what they feel like.

“You okay?” Yugyeom asks, and Jeongguk straightens, embarrassed to be caught hunched over like an idiot, all because he couldn’t handle a couple people getting up in his space.

“Much better now,” Jeongguk remarks, meeting Yugyeom’s eyes, and Yugyeom chuckles lowly. Together, they watch the party-goers dance and drink. Jackson’s got the blond boy pressed up against a wall. A bottle breaks somewhere, and Yugyeom turns to Jeongguk.

“I’m glad you came,” Yugyeom says, quiet enough that Jeongguk has to strain to hear him over the music. “I had fun last time.”

Jeongguk’s stomach twists at these words, remembering how he’d left Yugyeom lying in the sheets, half-asleep while he guiltily shrugged back into his clothes and slipped out of the room. He wants to apologize, to explain himself, but Yugyeom is reaching for him, a question in his eyes. Jeongguk, too lost to find the words I’m sorry , opts for not saying anything at all and leans forward.

But before their lips can meet, Jeongguk sees Taehyung, his eyes finding him with no problem despite the dense crush of people and the dimly-lit room. He’s wearing a t-shirt so big it seems to swallow him, the bottom of it tucked into skinny jeans that remind Jeongguk that yes his legs are really that fucking long, goddammit.

He’s hit suddenly with a wave of feeling, an emotion he’s unable to identify knocking the breath out of his lungs. He’s simultaneously hot and cold, and his body jerks, like it’s unable to decide if it wants to run out of the house or towards Taehyung.

Like he can hear Jeongguk thinking, Taehyung turns at that exact moment and he meets Jeongguk’s eyes over Yugyeom’s shoulder. Blood roars in his ears; he’s acutely aware of the rapid thud-thud of his heart. He can hear Yugyeom saying something distantly, but all he can think is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Neither of them, however, make a move towards each other. There’s something painfully raw in Taehyung’s expression, such open want painted so clearly on his face. Jeongguk, on the other hand, is currently being battered by a combination of total panic and ice-cold fear.

There is something terrifying and significant about this moment, about standing here with Yugyeom half-on him while Jeongguk looks at Taehyung from across a room that feels like it’s miles long. But he can’t figure out what, exactly, makes it so important. All he knows is this: choosing to close the gap between them will start something big and intimidating and unknown. Something Jeongguk thinks he isn’t ready for.

“Whoa,” Yugyeom says, and it is the first thing he’s said that Jeongguk registers. “Who is that? ” He asks, stepping back.

“Who’s what,” Jeongguk replies idly, but he’s still staring at Taehyung, who watches him, a small, unreadable smile curling at his lips.

“Is that…Kim Taehyung?” Yugyeom asked, shocked. “I thought he didn’t go out—”

He catches himself here, casting a nervous look at Jeongguk, who hadn’t heard him. Yugyeom sighs, knowing Jeongguk was never really interested interested him in the first place. And with the way he’s looking at Kim Taehyung, yearning so clearly painted on his face—well, it’s not something Yugyeom will ever be able to compete with.

“Go,” he tells Jeongguk softly, nudging him. “He’s waiting for you.”

This gets Jeongguk’s attention, and he startles, finally refocusing on Yugyeom. “What?” He blurts, face turning red. “I can’t—I mean, I don’t think I should—” He fumbles, flustered.

“You should,” Yugyeom presses, more firmly this time. “Look at the way he’s smiling, Jeongguk. Are you blind?”

Jeongguk feels his face get hotter. He doesn’t see anything special in Taehyung’s expression, but he’s never really had a lot of practice with reading people. He’s never needed to.

“I have only seen that smile on one other person,” Yugyeom says. “And Taehyung never comes around to Jackson’s parties any more, even though I heard from Mark that he never shuts up about you—”

“Hey,” Jeongguk cuts in, and now Yugyeom’s grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying riling Jeongguk up. “He does not.”

“Guess you’ll never find out,” Yugyeom shrugs with false innocence. “Unless…you could go talk to him, instead of making bedroom eyes at him from the other side of the room.”

“I was not,” Jeongguk tries to argue, but Yugyeom won’t stop snickering at him. “I was not . Look. I’ll go prove it.”

And before he can process what he’s doing, he slips back into the crowd and makes his way towards Taehyung.

~~~~

Every step that Jeongguk takes feels like a promise. Every swell of the music and every pound of the bass sounds like a fated beginning. And he doesn’t even believe in fate. But this— this feels absolute, like it was destined to be, like it is the only right thing he has ever done.

“I didn’t think you’d come over,” Taehyung says by way of greeting, and Jeongguk offers a nervous smile in return. “You looked pretty busy over there.”

For some reason, Jeongguk feels the need to defend himself. “Yugyeom’s a friend,” he says, and there’s that damn smile again. Jeongguk feels like he should know what it means, but it remains as mysterious as the first time. “And I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” This last part slips out without his intention, and he clenches his jaw shut, afraid he’s moved too suddenly.

The look Taehyung gives him is so filled with emotion that it physically hurts him, a deep ache within his bones.

“The last person who said broke my heart,” Taehyung says, so quietly that Jeongguk thinks he wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did, and his chest squeezes at the words. “Do you wanna dance?” Taehyung asks, louder this time, and Jeongguk is nodding before he can even process the request.

And he tries very, very hard not to record the exact feeling of Taehyung’s hands in his, of the press of his fingertips and the brush of his palms, of the fragile warmth in his wrists and the smooth taper of his arms.

He fails, and it’s carefully stored away, nestled next to Taehyung’s laugh, the way his face gets when he’s excited, and the bright shape of his smile.

~~~~

Taehyung asks him out the next time, coming up to Jeongguk while he’s sitting with Yugyeom (who had graciously forgiven Joengguk and taken it upon himself to tease Jeongguk about Taehyung without mercy) Eunha, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Bambam, who he’d met at Seokjin’s two weeks ago.

“Good to see you, Taehyung-ah,” Seokjin says, smiling warmly. Namjoon, who looks surprised for a reason Jeongguk can’t figure out, waves. Yugyeom’s bewilderment is a better-disguised, but his mouth has fallen open just enough that Jeongguk can tell he also wasn’t expecting Taehyung to show up.

After saying hello to everyone, Taehyung plops down on the bench next to Jeongguk, close enough that he can feel the heat coming off of Taehyung through his jacket. And if his friends notice the way that they unconsciously shift together, Jeongguk pressing his leg against Taehyung’s, they don’t say anything, just exchange knowing looks. Seokjin, sensing the sudden tension, launches into an explanation about what he’s going to cook for this Wednesday.

Taehyung turns to Jeongguk, cheeks red. It’s the last nice day of fall, before the wind starts to bite a little too hard and all the leaves shake free of the trees. It’s cool enough, though, that Jeongguk’s wearing two layers and a scarf. Taehyung’s only in a hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” Jeongguk demands, watching Taehyung’s teeth chatter. Before Taehyung can respond, he strips off his wool overcoat and hands it to Taehyung. “Put it on.”

Taehyung pulls his hands out of his pockets slowly, looking at Jeongguk curiously. Jeongguk, uncomfortable under the scrutiny, shifts. He knows his face is probably turning red.

“I can’t believe you wear two jackets,” Taehyung says, laughing. “You must run cold.” Jeongguk’s face turns redder, and he ducks behind his scarf. He’d started wearing two jackets because of Taehyung, who never wore enough layers and always ended up dragging his feet and complaining about stiff fingers and freezing skin whenever they went out.

“Yeah, good thing,” Yugyeom snickers. “How convenient.”

Jeongguk narrows his eyes, shaking his head sharply. Yugyeom just snickers some more, only quieting when Bambam elbows him and asks what’s so funny.

“Ah, I almost forgot!” Taehyung exclaims, and rummages around in his pocket. “I got tickets,” he says, and pulls out a mess of crumpled papers, “to see Dean. You mentioned you liked his music, and I thought you’d like to go.”

Jeongguk’s mouth falls open. He can’t remember telling Taehyung about liking Dean. He can’t even remember a conversation where they even talked about music in the first place. “I can’t believe you even remembered that,” he says, amazed.

Taehyung grins at him, patting his knee. “You’re important, Jeonggukkie. Of course I’d remember.”

Yugyeom and Bambam (who’s now apparantly caught up on Jeongguk’s love life, thanks Yugyeom ) snicker. Namjoon has the decency to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping, and Eunha just gives him a wink. Seokjin, bless him, changes the topic again, pulling the attention back to him.

“Yeah, Jeonggukkie,” Yugyeom says, still chortling. “How could he forget?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongguk grumbles, and purposefully turns back towards Taehyung. Taehyung’s laughing at him too, but there’s a tenderness in his eyes and warmth in his tone that makes Jeongguk’s heart flutter.

“Sorry about them,” Jeongguk mumbles, slouching forward, only to jerk upright when he feels fingertips slide up his jaw, reaching around to curl at his neck. Taehyung brushes a thumb gently across Jeongguk’s face. The sound of their friends fade away until it’s just the two of them, Taehyung’s hand on Jeongguk’s face and their eyes, searching for something they’re afraid to find.

“So that’s a yes, then?” Taehyung asks, and the moment melts. His hand slides from Jeongguk’s neck to his shoulder.

Jeongguk nods, swallowing thickly. “Text me the details?” He requests, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Sure,” Taehyung says easily, pulling away completely. Jeongguk only has time to miss his warmth for a split-second before Taehyung’s pressing his side fully into Jeongguk, a hand slipping between their coats. Their fingers slip together easily, a perfect fit.

Jeongguk’s heart is pounding in his ears but he forces himself to look straight ahead, trying to engage in whatever his friends are talking about and failing.

Neither of them move their hands, though. Jeongguk can feel Taehyung smiling, and it’s like sunlight on his cheeks.

~~~~

The concert is good. He can’t remember much about the music, or about the show, but he can remember singing at the top of his lungs and watching the lights flicker over Taehyung’s face. He can remember their clasped hands as they shouted fanchants and can remember the way Taehyung looked at him, with that tenderness Jeongguk knows he doesn’t deserve and a smile so big it feels like Jeongguk is being put together again.

He walks Taehyung up to his apartment, the night oddly quiet. It’s late enough that all the drunk people are either back home or passed out, and any stragglers from the library are long gone.

“I think,” Taehyung starts, looking down at his hands, “that it was fate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t have to ask what he means. And maybe it was fate—maybe that brief moment of eye contact they’d made on the train was meant to be, and maybe the way Taehyung’s face followed him for the next week was all part of the plan. Jeongguk doesn’t know. He really, really doesn’t. All he knows is that he’s hurtling towards something too fast to see where he’s going. He knows that he’s burning away the blood in his veins and the oxygen in his lungs and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears and the way Taehyung says his name.

He’s sure he should be terrified. But he’s moving so quickly he can’t tell if it’s fear or adrenaline that rushes through his body, that makes his heart thrum and his bones shiver.

“I think,” Jeongguk finally manages to reply, and Taehyung looks up, eyes sending something like electricity down Jeongguk’s spine. “I think you might be right.”

~~~~

When Taehyung brings his mouth up to Jeongguk’s that night, something is different. For the first time, Jeongguk understands how people can kiss like they talk.

Taehyung kisses like his head is in the clouds, like he’s got a thousand things to say, like there’s a light that shines from inside of him. Like he’s got all the time in the world, like he’s laughing, like he’s interested in what other people have to tell him. Like there is beauty and art in everything that he sees and touches.

Tonight, he kisses Jeongguk like he’s special. Like he’s precious.

If he’s being honest, it makes Jeongguk feel terrible. They don’t go any further than kissing, falling into Taehyung’s bed and staying there, but even the fingers Taehyung runs through Jeongguk’s hair feel like promises, like something he doesn’t deserve to hear.

Fate or not, he doesn’t deserve Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve the little things, the hand-holding, the bright smiles that come from his whole body.

He accepts them anyway, because here he is, lying in bed with his head on Taehyung’s chest, listening to the soft beat of his heart.

“Jeonggukkie?” Taehyung whispers quietly, and Jeongguk, whose eyelids had been slipping closed, lifts his head blearily.

“Mmm?” He asks, too tired to feel self-conscious about his bed hair or most-definitely swollen lips.

“Do you want to stay here?” Taehyung asks, and Jeongguk can’t tell if he’s being genuine or merely polite (sometimes, Jeongguk noticed Taehyung’s openness sounds false, probably because he’s like that with everyone, even when he’s upset) but decides to go with the former.

“Sure,” Jeongguk breathes, collapsing back onto Taehyung. He probably shouldn’t stay, but it’s late and cold outside, and Taehyung is offering. It’s not like Jeongguk wants to. He’s being polite.

Satisfied with this excuse, he closes his eyes again and is almost asleep when Taehyung nudges him.

“Oh my god, just let me sleep ,” he moans, digging his chin into Taehyung’s chest in retribution.

Taehyung huffs. “It’s my chest you’re falling asleep on, last I checked. And I was just going to ask if you wanted different pants. Those jeans, as nice as your ass looks, can’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

“You noticed my ass?” Jeongguk asks groggily, trying to fight the fog that’s bearing down on his mind, trying its best to pull him back to sleep.

Taehyung merely rolls his eyes and lifts Jeongguk off of his chest, going to his closet and rummaging around. He tosses a pair of sweatpants at Jeongguk, who manages to get them on without sitting up (it’s a well-practiced skill; Jimin likes to use it as an example of Jeongguk’s impressive laziness). A second later, Taehyung’s changed as well and sliding back into bed next to Jeongguk, under the covers this time.

They lie side-by-side in awkward silence before Taehyung gives an irritated huff and rolls over so he’s facing Jeongguk.

“Are you not a cuddler?” He demands, poking Jeongguk.

“What?” Jeongguk startles, but relaxes when he sees that Taehyung’s not really upset. “Oh. Um. I like cuddling, I guess,” he says, and before he can even finish his sentence Taehyung’s worming his way into Jeongguk’s arms. There’s some awkward shifting around and Jeongguk nearly knocks Taehyung’s teeth out with his elbow trying to get an arm around him. Eventually Taehyung settles into Jeongguk’s side, breath ghosting over Jeongguk’s collarbones.

“Thanks,” Taehyung says suddenly, just when Jeongguk thinks that he’d fallen asleep.

“For what?”

“For coming with me.” There’s fingers idly tracing at the neck of his t-shirt, feather-light.

“Oh,” Jeongguk replies, confused on why Taehyung’s thanking him. “But you were the one who invited me?”

“I know, I know,” Taehyung murmurs, hands pausing their motions. “It’s just…it’s been awhile since I went out and enjoyed myself.”

He falls silent after this, nestling closer. Jeongguk wants to push him for the rest of the story, ask him why it’d been so long since he’d enjoyed going out, and why everyone was always surprised when Taehyung showed up somewhere—but Taehyung’s breathing evens out and his limbs go slack. Jeongguk, as curious as he is, can’t find the heart to wake him up. So he shifts carefully, trying not to disturb Taehyung, and next thing he knows, he’s asleep.

~~~~

It is the deepest sleep Jeongguk has had in a long time. He wakes up before Taehyung, sunlight trickling in through the gaps in the curtain. His phone—which Taehyung must’ve plugged in for him when he’d realized it was dying—tells him that it’s only seven in the morning. His fingers have gone a little numb, thanks to the heavy weight of Taehyung’s head. There’s a little spot of drool at the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, and Jeongguk almost wipes it away before he catches himself and lies still again.

With a start, he realizes he’s perfectly content to just lie here in the half-sunlight, with Taehyung half on-top of him and drooling, crammed together in a too-small bed in a too-small room.

The feeling is so unsettling that he gets up, throwing back the blankets and carefully extracting his arm from behind Taehyung’s head. He bounces on his feet, trying to pull himself out of the strange, nostalgic, early-morning haze. His throat is sore from all the singing and shouting he’d done last night. With one more backwards glance at Taehyung, he slips out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Maybe he’ll just get some water, collect his jeans and quietly leave--

“Jeongguk?” Someone says as comes into the kitchen. Jeongguk freezes, phone raised in the process of calling a taxi.

Jimin is sitting in the kitchen, computer propped open. A spoon of cereal is halfway to his mouth, and the shock on his face mirrors Jeongguk’s.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jeongguk asks. “How do you know Taehyung?”

“I live here,” Jimin says, dropping the spoon back into his bowl with a clatter. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung says from behind him, petulant and sleepy. An arm winds around his waist and all thoughts in Jeongguk’s mind flee as lips brush the back of his neck. “You weren’t gonna leave, right?” He notices Jimin then, and props his chin on Jeongguk’s shoulder. “Hi, Jimin.”

Understanding dawns on Jimin’s face, followed closely by hurt. “How long?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Jimin,” Taehyung starts, stepping around Jeongguk. “Hey, why are you—”

“How long,” Jimin repeats, cutting Taehyung off and fixing Jeongguk with a look that makes Jeongguk’s ears turn red in shame.

“Almost three weeks,” Jeongguk responds guiltily, and Jimin’s eyes feel like they’re burning into him. Taehyung wraps his fingers around Jeongguk’s, awake enough to know that Jeongguk’s getting upset. Jimin tracks the motion, and he looks so wounded, so betrayed, that Jeongguk can’t help the spark of irritation that flares in his chest.

“I can’t believe both of you kept this from me,” Jimin says. “My two best friends—dating? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think you’d get around to it later?”

“We’re not dating,” Jeongguk blurts at the same time as Taehyung says, “it’s a new thing.”

Jimin looks between the both of them, then sighs. “Jeongguk, can I talk to you outside?”

Taehyung gives Jimin a pleading look, but his expression is steely. He shakes his head resolutely, so Taehyung squeezes Jeongguk’s hand and lets go, allowing the younger to follow Jimin into the landing outside the apartment.

“You purposefully avoided telling me,” Jimin says before Jeongguk can get a word in. “And don’t lie. Your excuses for turning down Yugyeom were weak and I never did believe you when you ‘suddenly got a lot of homework’."

Jeongguk takes a breath through his nose, but it does little to calm his frustration. “It’s not like you tell me anything either,” he spits back, unable to help it. “I met Taehyung by chance, Jimin. How the hell was I supposed to know you were roommates with him?”

“You never asked!” Jimin exclaims, exasperated. “You never ask me anything, Jeongguk! You’ve never cared about my life, so I stopped trying to make you listen!” He’s not quite shouting, but somehow that makes it worse, because Jeongguk can see his hurt painted clearly on his face.

It stings, and the fact that he feels guilty fuels his anger.

“Well—” Jeongguk starts hotly but Jimin cuts him off again.

“Don’t you dare try to turn this on me, Jeon Jeongguk,” he snaps. “This is your fault. You were the inconsiderate one here. You were the one who decided to keep this a secret until the last possible moment. Do you know how that made me feel, watching you two emerge from his bedroom like you’d been doing it forever?”

“I get it!” Jeongguk shouts, clenching his hands into fists. “I’m sorry!”

“That’s exactly the point!” Jimin fires back. “You’re not sorry. You’re thinking that I’m upset because you’re dating Taehyung. I don’t care if you date him—and that’s not even part of the problem! What made me upset was how you left me out. You didn’t even think once to mention it to me.” Something in Jimin’s face breaks at these last words, and Jeongguk feels the heat in him go out.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he whispers. “I promise.”

Jimin heaves a deep sigh. “I know, Jeongguk. And that’s what makes it even worse. You didn’t think. But you never really do, right? As long as you get out in one piece, it doesn’t matter what other people feel.”

This last comment cuts deep, and Jeongguk knows Jimin can see that, his face crumpling in apology. But he doesn’t take it back.

“You’re lucky,” Jimin says, but Jeongguk can barely hear him over the ringing in his ears, his vision blurring and making him feel dizzy. “Taehyung knows that, and he still loves you. Treat him right, okay?”

Jeongguk doesn’t seem to register any of this, so Jimin slips back inside the apartment. The door closes with a final click, and then there is silence.

As long as you get out in one piece, it doesn’t matter what other people feel.

He supposes it’s the truth.

~~~~

He doesn’t know how he ends up outside, but that’s where Seokjin finds him almost two hours later, sitting on the curb in front of Jimin’s apartment. His phone is clutched between his hands; he’s torn between calling Taehyung for comfort and calling Jimin to beg him to come back.

He does neither, just lets Seokjin gather him up and buckle him into the passenger seat of the car. When they get to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, Seokjin parks, turning the car off and facing Jeongguk.

“Tell me what happened,” Seokjin says gently, a command but also a request. His face is so understanding and warm that Jeongguk feels tears prick at his eyes again, the knot in his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

So Jeongguk tells him. From the start of the story to the very end, Seokjin does nothing but listen, eyes focused on Jeongguk as everything pours out of him.

“And then he accused me of being selfish,” Jeongguk finishes, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “I didn’t know he wanted me to ask about his life. I thought I was doing what he wanted me to do, honestly. I didn’t know. I never know. ” He breaks off here, biting back the stupid wave of hurt that makes his eyes sting.

Seokjin looks at him a moment longer, but there’s still no judgment anywhere on his face. “Do you want my advice?” Seokjin asks a second later.

“Um,” Jeongguk blinks, looking up unsurely. “…yes?”

“Good, because it’s pretty good advice if I do say so myself,” Seokjin replies, beaming. Jeongguk cracks a hint of a smile as Seokjin throws his door open. “Come on,” Seokjin urges. “Namjoon made tea.”

Jeongguk gets out of the car and follows Seokjin up to his and Namjoon’s apartment, which feels strangely quiet and empty without the normal dinner crowd. There, Namjoon has indeed made tea, or at least he’s tried—there’s tea leaves everywhere and a couple of band-aids on Namjoon’s hands that mean he probably burned himself.

While Jeongguk kicks his shoes off and shyly makes his way to the couch, Seokjin leans in close to Namjoon, speaking lowly. Namjoon’s hand, almost subconsciously, comes up to curl around Seokjin’s elbow, and Seokjin in turn picks off the lint on Namjoon’s sweater while they talks.

It feels incredibly private and special, so Jeongguk averts his eyes, cheeks heating. He nearly scalds his tongue off and swallows some leaves on the first sip of his tea and breaks into a silent coughing fit as Seokjin sits down on the chair opposite him. Namjoon disappears into the kitchen, giving Jeongguk a small wave on his way out.

“So you’re dating Taehyung,” Seokjin starts, and Jeongguk rushes to correct him.

“Not dating,” he says. “Just…you know.” He waves his hand vaguely. “It’s a thing.”

“A thing, ” Seokjin says slowly, disbelieving. He presses his lips together in an effort not to laugh but a snort escapes anyway, making Jeongguk glare at him. “ Right. And Jimin’s fine with it, correct?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says, and gets worked up again just thinking about it. “But he didn’t act fine—he exploded on me, hyung, you should’ve seen how worked up he got—”

“Jeongguk-ah,” Seokjin cuts in firmly. “Listen to me. Be a good dongsaeng.”

“Sorry,” Jeongguk mumbles, feeling like a scolded child. He can hear Namjoon laughing from the kitchen, and it does little for his ego.

“You’re a good kid,” Seokjin tells him honestly. “And I know you didn’t mean to hurt Jimin, which is why this whole thing is as bad as it is. Jimin never had a problem with you, Jeongguk. From what I can tell, he likes being your friend.”

“So they why’s he so angry?” Jeongguk asks miserably, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t get it.”

“He’s angry because he thinks you don’t care about him, or your friendship,” Seokjin says, and when Jeongguk opens his mouth to rebuke, he holds up a hand. “ Listen, ” he stresses. “I’m not done yet. I know that you care, but Jimin doesn’t. To him, you’re not making any effort. You’re blowing him off and not telling him things, and he’s hurt. It makes sense, right? Wouldn’t you be hurt too?”

“I guess,” Jeongguk grumbles, cupping his hands around his lava-hot tea and leaning back. “But why couldn’t he just tell me that?”

“People are complicated,” Seokjin says, sighing. “Relationships are complicated, too. Jimin probably wanted you to figure this out on your own—hey, don’t scowl at me, I didn’t make him act like this—and I’m not saying that it was a good move, but it happened. So you have to deal with it.”

“How?” Jeongguk asks, not caring how whiny he sounds. Seokjin is radiating wisdom and calmness and it makes Jeongguk feel safe and cared-for, things he’d sincerely missed since leaving home.

Seokjin taps his fingers against his lips. “Hey, Joonie?”

“Yeah, hyung?” Namjoon replies, poking his head out of the kitchen.

“How would you show someone that you value their friendship?”

Namjoon steps all the way out of the kitchen, apparently in deep thought. Jeongguk doesn’t know whether to laugh or wait with bated breath, so he does neither and scalds off the rest of his taste buds with his tea instead.

“The little things,” Namjoon finally says. “People like big things, sure, but it’s the little things that really matter in the end. It is the nature of a human to look for love and acceptance,” he continues. “and small things, seemingly unimportant things, show this best.”

The expression on Seokjin’s face is filled with such adoring, open love that Jeongguk feels like an intruder again. He watches Seokjin reach out and squeeze Namjoon’s hand—just once, but that seems to be enough to say everything. Then Namjoon is returning to the kitchen and Seokjin is sitting forward again.

“Does that make sense?” He asks Jeongguk.

Jeongguk forces himself to think it over slowly. “I have to pay attention…to the little things?"

“It sounds counterintuitive, I know."

“I don’t think I can do it,” Jeongguk admits. “I’m not very good at paying attention to things. Or people. I’ll mess it up.”

Seokjin shrugs, leaning back and drinking down the last of his tea. “Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” he says. “But you can’t know until you try, right? In the end, Jeongguk, the only one that can fix your mess is you.”

He looks at Seokjin dubiously, wondering if the older boy takes pleasure in speaking in twisted riddles that Jeongguk has to solve. He can’t figure out if Seokjin is offering him good advice or making fun of him (though it’s probably both).

Either way, Seokjin is right about one thing: he won’t get anywhere with Jimin unless he tries.

~~~~

It takes him a week to work up the resolve to text Jimin. He’d met with Taehyung a couple times, taking him to that coffee shop with the fancy drinks Taehyung always made heart eyes at.

“I really want you guys to make up,” Taehyung tells him quietly over the rising steam from his latte. “He’s really bummed out. I can tell you are too.” 

“I don’t know if he’ll forgive me,” Jeongguk finally admits, placing this one truth on the table for Taehyung to see and wondering if he’ll think it’s stupid.

Taehyung, surprisingly (read: not surprisingly at all) fiercely tells him it’s not stupid, and that he should stop putting himself down so much. “You’re not a bad person, Jeonggukkie,” Taehyung tells him, tilting Jeongguk’s chin up so their eyes meet. “I’ll tell you that until you believe me. Jimin wants to forgive you. He’s just as afraid as you.”

Jeongguk looks down at his phone now, Taehyung’s advice ringing in his head: make the first move. After another moment of deleting and re-writing, he presses send:  

   hi jimin. i’m really sorry for what i said the other day

   i’d really like to meet up and talk if that’s okay.

It only takes a second for Jimin to reply and Jeongguk nearly cries in relief when he sees the text.  

   Yes I’d love to I’m really tired of being mad at you;;;

Jeongguk’s fingers hesitate over his screen before he carefully types out his next message.

   do you want to meet in front of the library in twenty minutes?

Jimin’s reply is fast, once again.

   Can we make that half an hour? I’m in class right now.

Shit. He knows that, he knows that. Jimin always has afternoon classes on Wednesdays—he’s in the same classic literature class as Taehyung and they always come out together.

   shit. i knew that. thirty minutes it is.

Jimin’s answering text is brief:

   See you then!

~~~~

Jeongguk runs into Mark on his way to the cafeteria to get something to eat. The older boy’s got his hood pulled down so low Jeongguk can’t see his face, and they nearly collide. 

“Mark-hyung!” Jeongguk says, unable to help himself. He grabs Mark’s shoulder to steady them. Mark jerks back at the touch, but relaxes when he recognizes Jeongguk’s face.

“Jeon Jeongguk, right? You’re dating Kim Taehyung?”

“Why does everyone think that?” Jeongguk whispers, despairing. Then he notices Mark’s face, white and drawn, making the circles beneath his eyes seem extra dark. The line of hickeys down his throat looks painful—though not as painful as his bottom lip, which is swollen around a cut that looks fresh.

“Woah, hyung, what happened?” Jeongguk asks, wincing in sympathy.

 “It’s nothing,” Mark says tiredly, like he’s answered the question too many times. Jeongguk is about to push him, curious to the point of itchiness, but remembers what Seokjin had told him about boundaries and what Namjoon had told him about the little things.

“I’m sorry,” he opts to say instead, and Mark looks up at him, surprised. “No, really, I am. Um, I hope you feel better soon.” He stumbles over the last bit, but Mark smiles at him.

“Thanks, Jeongguk,” Mark says, actually looking thankful. “I’ll…see you around?”  

“Sure,” Jeongguk says, and Mark’s shoulders slump down again as he turns to leave. He thinks about the advice he got from Seokjin, and gets an idea. “Wait, hyung,” he calls out, and Mark looks over his shoulder. “Do you know Kim Seokjin?”

~~~~

Jeongguk is halfway through his bag of chips when Jimin shows up, coat zipped to his chin and his hat pulled down to his ears. Jeongguk stumbles to his feet and Jimin stops in front of Jeonguk, a little too far away to be comfortable.

“Can we go inside?” Jimin asks desperately, and Jeongguk nods quickly, following Jimin as he pushes into the library. Jimin unzips his coat and pulls his hat back so he can look up at Jeongguk, a pained expression on his face.

“So,” Jimin starts.

Jeongguk swallows, his throat dry. “So.”

“I’m sorry for calling you selfish,” Jimin immediately bursts out, eyes getting shiny. “It just…I didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly—that wasn’t fair to you at all, and it was hurtful and mean and cold of me to say—”

“Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk says hurriedly, putting his hands up before Jimin can go any further or—god forbid—start crying. That is one thing he does not need. “It’s okay. I’ve moved on.”

Jimin wipes at his eyes. “Still. It was mean. I’m sorry, Jeongguk.”

“It’s okay, ” Jeongguk repeats, cracking a smile. “I’m the one that should be sorry. It was a really shitty thing for me to do. You—” He cuts himself off here, remembering Namjoon telling him, say what you feel. That’s the only thing you can be sure of.

“I mean,” Jeongguk carefully corrects, “ I understand what you might have felt. And I’d, um, like you to know that I do value our friendship. You make me get out of my dorm, and you make me feel better…and I guess you didn’t deserve to be brushed off like you did. So. Yeah. I’m sorry about that,” he finishes lamely, but Jimin is looking at him with this stupid grin and Jeongguk braces himself just in time, because Jimin is jumping on him and squeezing the air out of his lungs

“That was so sweet,” Jimin blubbers, and Jeongguk awkwardly pats him on the back as the older steps away and surveys him. “I really appreciate it.”

“I promise to try not to do that again,” Jeongguk says. “I didn’t realize how much it hurt you.”

“As long as you try,” Jimin replies, shrugging lightly. “I mean, I get that you need your personal space, and I need mine—but come on, Jeongguk, you’re dating my best friend.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Jeongguk huffs, irritation rolling around in his stomach like a loose marble, “why does everyone think we’re dating?”

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “You’re not?”

“No!” Jeongguk exclaims, waving his arms. Across the room, the librarian shoots him a dirty look. “We hang out sometimes, and we’ve hooked up, but I don’t think I wanna be in the kind of relationship he’s looking for!”

Jeongguk takes a breath, and Jimin watches him warily as he collects himself again.

“You might want to tell Taehyung that,” Jimin says quietly, dead serious again. “He really likes you, Gukkie. But he’s always had that problem—he always falls too fast, and it’s always for the ones who won’t—or can’t—reciprocate in the way he deserves. Like with his last boyfriend—” Jimin starts, but seems to realize mid-sentence that he’s said too much. He claps a hand to his mouth and glowers.

“What?” Jeongguk presses, curious. “What about his last boyfriend?”

“It’s not my story to tell,” Jimin says resolutely. “Anyway, if you don’t think you can return what Tae’s giving you, then tell him that. He doesn’t deserve to get his heart broken again.”

Jeongguk imagines the conversation: Hey I think you’re really great and I care a lot about you but let’s just…not.  

The idea of not seeing Taehyung anymore makes his throat close up with unwanted emotion. But the idea of committing, of entering a relationship only doomed to fail a couple months is worse, the mere thought of it shooting icy fear through his veins.

“Promise me,” Jimin says, sounding like he’s pleading. “Promise me you won’t do that to him.”

“I promise,” Jeongguk says, and he and Jimin both swallow the lie whole.

~~~~

He sees Taehyung almost every day for the next week, and he starts his list of little things that Taehyung likes. Taehyung likes when Jeongguk brings him an extra jacket. He likes nice coffee and surprise dates, and cheesy horror movies and extra butter on his popcorn. He likes when Jeongguk holds his hand and when he gets asked about his day or about the daycare he works at. He likes those tiny little earrings shaped like flowers they saw in the window the other day, and he likes the scarf Jeongguk lends him, the blue one his grandmother made for him.

Jeongguk surprises himself when he realizes he enjoys doing things for Taehyung. Like putting extra butter on his popcorn, or asking about the cute kids at the daycare when he looks especially down.

Something endless starts to unfurl in Taehyung’s eyes and it scares him sometimes, so badly that he has to let go of Taehyung’s hands and shake himself awake. 

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing Jeongguk back to the present. He nudges Jeongguk with his foot. “Are you going to Seokjin’s tonight?”

“I shouldn’t,” Jeongguk starts. “I have a massive paper due for my stupid analytics class, and I don’t really need Seokjin’s advice—”

“So you’re coming, right?” Taehyung cuts in, a tiny smile pulling at his mouth.

“Absolutely,” Jeongguk agrees, and they settle back into the couch, Taehyung pressing play on the anime they’re watching.

They go together later that night, when the wind is bitter and cold. Taehyung’s teeth are chattering within minutes, tearing straight through the coat Jeongguk had zipped him into.  

“My hands are cold,” Taehyung complains, and Jeongguk, almost—almost—without thinking, takes one of Taehyung’s hands and puts their intertwined fingers into his pocket.  

By the time he realizes what he’s just done, it’s too late. He opts for staring straight ahead, deciding that his cheeks are burning thanks to the icy wind. He misses the smile Taehyung gives him—soft and totally unguarded—but somehow, he can feel it anyway, like the sun is shining just for him.

~~~~ 

There’s a lot of people at Seokjin’s today—so many that he had to start an extra hour early just to make enough food for everyone. Youngjae, Yerim, and Bambam are already on the couch starting their first game of violent Mario Kart.

Eunha’s helping Namjoon set the table, a sunny expression on her face. Seokjin’s talking to Mark, out of all people. It looks like he’d taken Jeongguk’s advice after all. 

“Jackson’s not here today,” Jeongguk says in surprise, looking around.

“I think he and Mark had a fight,” Taehyung tells Jeongguk, raising his voice when Yerim releases a loud stream of expletives as Bambam hits her with a red shell. “A bad one.”

“What makes you say that?” Jeongguk asks, eying Mark. The hickeys have mostly faded, but the circles under his eyes are worse, and the skin on his lips is so chapped they’ve cracked in multiple places.

“Do you remember how we first met on the train?” Taehyung says suddenly, and there’s an intense look in his eyes that makes Jeongguk’s heart squeeze weakly. 

“Yeah,” Jeongguk replies, and even now, weeks later, he still feels like he’s being drawn in by a different gravity, like time itself loses meaning when Taehyung looks at him like this. “I remember.” 

“Some people just fall together like that,” Taehyung says quietly, leaning closer. “Like us. Like’s it’s fate.” 

He is so close—close enough to kiss, if Jeongguk was brave enough. But he’s not; there are all these people here, and he doesn’t have the right, doesn’t deserve to kiss Taehyung when he feels like it.  

“And some people,” Taehyung says, turning his eyes back to Mark, frail and tired, “have to fight to be together. And that’s just Mark and Jackson.”  

“Oh,” Jeongguk says, a little breathless. “That…makes sense.”

“Even though you don’t believe in fate?” Taehyung teases. 

Jeongguk gives Taehyung a flat look, but before he can respond, Taehyung presses a kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

“What,” Jeongguk says, thoughts sputtering to a halt. “Taehyung—”  

“Gonna go help Seokjin,” Taehyung says, and whirls away, snickering.

The air is cold where Taehyung was, and Jeongguk is left trying to figure out how to breathe again.

“Aw, Jeonggukie, ” Bambam simpers after his character glides into first place. “You’re blushing.”

Jeongguk’s mouth snaps shut and he turns to glare at Bambam. “I am not. And you suck at Mario Kart. I hope Yerim beats you next time.”

“Oh, I will,” Yerim says threateningly. Then she turns to Jeongguk and her expression changes so fast it’s almost comical. “Also, congrats, oppa. You and Taehyung are cute together.” 

Jeongguk sighs. “Do I just need to wear a sign that says Taehyung and I aren’t—”

“Dinner time,” Seokjin announces cheerfully, and Bambam throws himself off the back of the couch with an excited shout, nearly taking Youngjae’s head off.

“Wait, I haven’t crossed the finish line!” Youngjae despairs. But then Seokjin’s taking the lid off the pot and the room fills with the smell of jjajangmyeon, something that Jeongguk hasn’t eaten since his grandmother—the same one who made his scarf—was alive.

His eyes prick uncomfortably at that thought, and he rubs his face quickly before anyone can see.

Youngjae hurries to the table after that, squeezing in between Eunha and Bambam. Jeongguk sits down next to Seokjin, who’s piling kimchi and rice onto Mark’s plate. Taehyung joins them a moment later. 

“How are you, Jeongguk-ah?” Seokjin asks as everyone starts eating. “Did you fix things with Jimin?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says around a mouthful of noodles.

“I’m proud of you,” Seokjin says, and Jeongguk feels something warm flutter in his stomach. Seokjin looks like he’s going to say more, but across the table Yerim and Bambam are arguing, Yemin half-out of her chair and Bambam with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“I did not throw that red shell,” Yerim says heatedly.

“Liars get their tongues cut out,” Bambam replies snidely

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts in. “How about you guys have a rematch afterwards and we move on?”

Yerim and Bambam glance suspiciously at each other, but Namjoon’s words are backed up with a challenging look from Seokjin, daring them to argue.

“Fine,” Bambam says, sulking

“Excellent,” Seokjin says, clapping his hands together, threat gone from his face.

Jeongguk meets Taehyung’s eyes. Scary, Taehyung mouths at him, nodding at Seokjin. Both Namjoon and Seokjin are intimidating in their own right. Jeongguk has a lot of respect for the both of them.

The rest of dinner goes relatively smoothly—Eunha describes a project she was doing for her film class, Youngjae talks about his singing lessons, and Bambam and Yerim flick food at each other until Namjoon sighs pointedly at them.

They all help Seokjin carry their dishes into the kitchen. Jeongguk is about to step up and help when Seokjin rests a hand on his shoulder and turns to Mark, who’d said three words total tonight. 

“Mark, can you help me with the dishes?” Seokjin asks. Mark silently rises from his chair and joins Seokjin at the sink. As he goes to join Taehyung at the window, Jeongguk can hear Seokjin’s voice—polite, soothing, and ready to listen—and hopes Mark feels better after talking. 

Taehyung gives Jeongguk a smile that nearly stops his heart, reaching out to curl his fingers around Jeongguk.

“Look at that,” Taehyung says, pressing a hand to the window where Jeongguk can see some cars and a bunch of street lights. “Beautiful, right?”

“It’s just street lights,” Jeongguk says, shrugging.

“No, look, ” Taehyung insists. “They’re not just lights. They’re wishes, maybe, or a path to somewhere greater. Or maybe they’re lighting the way for all the lost souls going home. Maybe they’re candles, waiting to be blown out one by one when morning comes.”

Jeongguk blinks, awestruck. “How do you see all of that from a window in the middle of Seoul?” 

Taehyung grins fondly at him, smile familiar and mysterious as always. “Oh, Jeonggukkie. Don’t you see? It’s not just a window, either. It’s a frame around a picture I’ll keep for the rest of my life.” He looks expectantly at Jeongguk, like he’s waiting for him to suddenly understand.

Jeongguk waits as well, but enlightenment doesn’t come. It’s a little frustrating, he has to admit, but he just looks back out the window. It is nice, he supposes, but it’s just the city. He sees it every night. And he has no idea why Taehyung would want to frame this particular view. But then again, he so rarely understands Taehyung at all.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Taehyung asks suddenly. “Jimin’s out tonight and I have something I really want to show you.”

“What?” Jeongguk says, looking around. “Right now?” Bambam and Yerim have just gotten back into Mario Kart, glaring at each other. Eunha and Namjoon have joined them, and Youngjae spectates from the side with a bowl of ice cream in his lap. 

“Yes, right now,” Taehyung says. “Come on, I’m so excited to show you that I can’t wait a single second longer!”

“Okay, okay,” Jeongguk says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth Taehyung is shouting goodbyes to Namjoon and Seokjin in the kitchen (the former of which watches them with barely-hidden amusement). Jeongguk can barely get his other shoe on before he’s being dragged down the stairs and into the night.

It really is pretty, he decides on the drive home. Maybe Taehyung is right.

~~~~

Taehyung’s apartment is dark when they get to it.

“Sit down on the couch,” Taehyung says, turning on a lamp. “I’ll be right back.”

Jeongguk falls back against the sofa cushions and pulls out his phone. There’s a text from Jimin that he hadn’t seen, saying how Jimin was going out with Hoseok. Before he can type out a response, Taehyung comes running back into the room, sliding a little in his socks. He’s got his arms wrapped around a sketchbook.

“It’s almost finished,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to Jeongguk. “For our year-long project in my drawing class, we had to fill a sketchbook with one thing we never get tired of seeing.”

Jeongguk swallows hard. The way that Taehyung is looking at him…nobody has ever looked at him like that before.

It makes his heart pound extra hard against his ribs, and he tries to not let his hands shake as he takes the sketchbook. 

He flips to the first page. It’s a figure, sitting on a bench. His hands are folded in his lap and his coat is buttoned to his chin. He’s looking off into the distance like he’s waiting for someone. And even though Jeongguk can’t see his face, he knows Taehyung’s drawn him, capturing the exact set of his jaw and the way his hair parts.

The next page is also him, drawn with painstaking detail in pencil. He’s bent over a coffee cup, smiling up at something—some one. Is that how he sees me? Jeongguk wonders, touching his face. Is my smile really that warm? Do I really look at him like that?

Jeongguk looks up at Taehyung. “I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”

Taehyung’s eyes shine. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“All of this—it’s all of me?”

“All of you,” Taehyung confirms. “I couldn’t think of anything else to the assignment on.”

Something he’d never grow tired of seeing, Jeongguk remembers. He doesn’t really know what to make of his feelings right now—his heart is beating awfully fast, and he’s hyperaware of the way the breath brushes past Taehyung’s lips. His throat is dry and his hands are sweating just a little where they grip the sketchbook. 

“You are so special, Jeon Jeongguk,” Taehyung says, and he’s got such an affectionate look on his face that Jeongguk can’t take it anymore, can’t bear to look at him any longer so he does the only rational thing: he kisses Taehyung hard, the sketchbook falling to the side.

They break apart with a gasp. Taehyung searches Jeongguk’s face for something, but Jeongguk can’t tell if he finds it or not before he leans back in, shifting so he’s in Jeongguk’s lap.

“Do you,” Taehyung starts, breathless, stroking Jeongguk’s hair away from his face, “want to go back to my bedroom?”

“Fuck yes,” Jeongguk responds without hesitation, and they’re tripping over each other in their hurry, kicking off socks and shirts. Taehyung nearly knocks his bookshelf over and Jeongguk elbows himself in the head in his hurry to pull his sweater off, but they get there eventually, taking each other apart, piece by piece.  

Later, they collapse next to each other, a little sweaty and a lot sticky. Taehyung grabs Jeongguk’s wrist before he can get up and grab a towel to wipe himself off.

“Thanks,” Taehyung says sleepily.

“For what?” Jeongguk asks.

“Mmm,” Taehyung responds. It’s not a solid answer, which leaves Jeongguk disgruntled.

“Hey,” he says, nudging Taehyung. “ Hey. What were you thanking me for? The sex?”

“No,” Taehyung answers, then hurries to correct himself when Jeongguk frowns. “I mean, it was fantastic, but there’s more than that. Like, thanks for being around. Thanks for chasing that one moment on the train. I don’t know. It felt like the right thing to say.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to reply to that. Taehyung’s always been so good with words; Jeongguk just stumbles over them.

They lie in silence for a little while longer, their skin cooling as white moonlight filters through the gaps in Taehyung’s blinds. 

“I think I love you,” Taehyung suddenly blurts, and Jeongguk’s heart stops mid-beat.

It takes Jeongguk a moment to process this, and he scrapes his palms as he falls over the words again and again. His mouth works silently, trying to find something to say. How does he respond? Does he even want to respond? He didn’t even know Taehyung felt that way—how could he, it’s been less than a month, and they’re not even dating, haven’t labelled it or said it’s official or--

“Say something,” Taehyung begs, and his voice sounds like how Jeongguk feels: beyond scared.

“You…what?” Jeongguk croaks, throat drier than ever. He swallows a couple times, but it just makes it worse.

“I love you,” Taehyung says, face open and vulnerable, the hope in his voice raw and trembling.

He says it like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. And maybe to him, it is. But nothing is clicking in place for Jeongguk. There’s no statement of fact for him to declare. He’s confused, and so fucking terrified—what the hell is he supposed to do? He doesn’t even feel the same way, doesn’t know if he can feel the same way, but here he is, and Taehyung’s holding his heart out, pink glass in pink palms and saying I love you, Jeon Jeongguk. And he knows that Taehyung’s heart will break, can already see it fracturing as he waits for Jeongguk to say something— anything— but the brief seconds stretch on to form a long silence and they both know what’s going to come next.

“I can’t…” Jeongguk starts, his voice. “I just. We’re not even dating. Which…I don’t know. I can’t.” 

Taehyung’s eyes are filling with tears. Jeongguk looks down, looks away, because he can’t take it, can’t watch Taehyung’s heart shatter. Instead, he quietly slips back into his underwear and pants and picks up his shirt.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung asks, hysteria starting to edge into his voice. “Why can’t you? What did I do this time?”

“It’s not you—” Jeongguk starts, but Taehyung glares at him through wet eyes.

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he snaps, but his anger is watered down with pain. It doesn’t sting in the way he intended it to.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk says, pleading. “I let this go on for too long. I’m selfish and I’m a shitty person and you don’t deserve this but I just can’t love you back. Not like the way you deserve to be loved.”

The tears, trembling on the edge of Taehyung’s eyelids, finally overflow. “Why are you the judge of that?” Taehyung asks, and oh god, it’s like Jeongguk’s heart is breaking, too. He likes Taehyung—he really, really fucking does. It’s why it hurts to much to watch the pain on Taehyung’s face, knowing that he’s the cause of it. “Why do you get to judge what I deserve? That’s not fair, Jeonggukkie. That’s fucking awful.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk offers again, voice cracking. Instead of helping, his apology only seems to make it worse: Taehyung collapses into the bed, full-body sobs wracking his frame.

“Get out of here,” Taehyung begs. “Please. Stop standing there, feeling bad for me, pretending like you care more than you do. Go. Please go.”

Jeongguk chokes back tears. “Sorry,” he whispers one more time, but Taehyung doesn’t respond, pressing his hands to his face. 

So Jeongguk goes.

And it’s so dark and so cold outside, and he realizes too late that he’s left his heavy jacket at Taehyung’s apartment. The wind stings his eyes and his lips, so he just runs, a flat-out sprint that burns his lungs and his legs. He runs all the way back to his dorm, skidding to a halt at the same time Jimin raises his hand to knock on the door. He’s got a takeout bag in one hand and a movie in the other, and his face initially lights up when he sees the younger boy approaching.

“Jeongguk-ah,” Jimin says brightly, but his expression melts into one of concern and shock as he takes in Jeongguk’s appearance. “Oh my god, Jeongguk, what happened? Are you hurt?”

Jeongguk takes a deep, deep breath, trying to soothe his aching lungs and catch his breath. “I’m fine,” he says, voice wobbly. “Absolutely. Come in.”

He only manages to unlock the door before he bursts into tears. 

~~~~

Jimin doesn’t let go of him for the rest of the night. He holds Jeongguk until the tears slow into pathetic sniffles, and then crawls into bed next to him and lets Jeongguk choke quietly on his pain until he falls asleep. 

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a glass of water on his bedside table, accompanied by a note in Jimin’s handwriting:

     Jeongguk-ah~

    I’m sorry that you were so sad last night. When you wake up, please drink the water and then call me. Taehyung texted me this morning early, so I went to go                  get him. Did something happen between you two? If so, I’ll try not to be angry, because you’re clearly really messed up if that’s the case. Either way, CALL ME!!

     Love,

     Jimin.

Jeongguk fumbles for his phone, blinding himself when he turns it on. His roommate grunts and rolls over, mumbling something about indoor sunlight. He slides out of bed, wincing at the cold floor, as he types out a text to Jimin.

   now a good time to call?

Jimin responds instantly.

   You have a lot of explaining to do 

Jeongguk swallows nervously, slipping outside of the doom room and into the hallway. The sun has just come up, turning the colored leaves gold. It should be breathtaking—but all Jeongguk feels is a buzzing pain in his chest and a sting in his eyes, which are so swollen from last night that he can barely open them.

He calls Jimin, who picks up in the middle of the first ring.

“What just happened,” Jimin demands immediately. “I literally come to visit you and you’re a mess, and then I go home to find Taehyung in a similar state, working his way through our alcohol supply in his underwear sobbing about how you can’t love him and he’s stupid and hates himself.”

Jimin’s words hit Jeongguk like a punch to the stomach. “Oh no,” he breathes, chest constricting.

“’Oh no’ is right,” Jimin huffs. “Did you really say that to him?”

“Um,” Jeongguk says, desperately searching for a way to soften the blow. He finds none, and is left with the cold, hard truth: “Yeah. I did.” 

It’s an ugly confession. Jeongguk feels awful, like he can feel everything that he’s said like a physical weight in him. It makes him want to vomit, if he’s being honest. Now, standing in the quiet Thursday morning, he’s ashamed.

“He didn’t deserve that,” Jimin says fiercely. “There were a thousand different ways you could have let him go, but telling him that you’re not emotionally capable of loving him was not one. Did he tell you anything about the last two men he’s dated?”

“No,” Jeongguk admits. “I mean, I heard things from Yugyeom and Seokjin, and I always wanted to ask…but I always felt too awkward to press him.” 

Jimin sighs. “There’s no point in trying to hide it from you now. Taehyung’s sweet, right? And he’s a good, kind person. But he always keeps his heart too far from his chest and he gives out love like it’s free. He falls too soon and too fast. Anyone that’s on the receiving end of this love gets his all, his whole soul and body. It’s like he doesn’t know how to exist as his own person when he’s in love with someone else.”

Jimin takes another breath. “Are you still with me?”

“It gets worse, doesn’t it,” Jeongguk says. It’s not a question—he knows it gets worse, knows because of the way Taehyung acted last night, like he was expecting to break and knew just how to do it. The way that he’d pleaded, asking what he’d done this time. Like there were times before. 

“The first guy took advantage of him. He had Taehyung feed his ego, essentially. Paraded him around like a nice prize.” Jeongguk can hear Jimin getting worked up, and the elder has to stop and collect himself. “He took Taehyung to all these fancy parties, to these events. And when Taehyung started realizing that he wasn’t much more than a pretty doll to this guy, his boyfriend left him. He didn’t even say goodbye. Just took back all the things he’d ever given to Taehyung and disappeared.”

“Wow,” Jeongguk says. “I…um. I don’t really know what to say.”

“There’s nothing really to say,” Jimin responds sadly. “The second guy was more of the same—he used Taehyung, made all these empty promises that Taehyung believed. He’d paint this guy over and over, Jeongguk. He was so absolutely in love—and even when he came back shattered after catching the guy with another girl—he still loved him. He blamed himself for everything, and went on loving this guy for another month before he started to realize he’s not accountable for that jerk’s actions.”

There’s tinny static when Jimin goes quiet, his breathing all Jeongguk can hear for a moment. 

“So for him to have you say that—it destroyed him, Jeongguk. Especially because it’s not true. You hurt him not only by digging at a weak spot, but by lying to him as well.”

“What do you mean, it’s not true?” Jeongguk demands hotly. “Why would I lie?”

Jimin huffs tiredly. “Don’t get angry at me. You’ve got to sort through all of that yourself, Jeongguk. It’s not fair to either of you—you’re both so upset. If you didn’t care, if you didn’t love him, do you think it would hurt this much?”

“I think I saw this coming for a while,” Jeongguk admits. “I even think you told me.”

“I did tell you. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Jeongguk asks, desperate for some seed of understanding.

“I have no idea,” Jimin tells him honestly. “That’s something you’ll have to figure out.”

Something heavy settles inside of Jeongguk. It feels like a terrible realization, like a box of thoughts waiting to be prodded at so he can lie sleepless in his bed and debate everything he thought he knew about himself for a couple days.

He sighs tiredly. Wonderful. Another thing to repress and ignore. Jeongguk says goodbye to Jimin, feeling more hurt and confused than ever.

~~~~

He tries to find Taehyung, to no avail. His texts go unanswered and his calls end in voicemails. It only makes his heart heavier, and there’s an odd space in his chest that feels empty.

Belatedely, he comes to the tired realization that it’s a spot that Taehyung used to fill.

He skips all of his classes that day, unable to find the energy to get out of bed. Instead he listens to the wind rattling the leaves and the cars on the street and the ragged sound of his own breathing.

At about six, his stomach growls so loudly Jeongguk knows he really should eat something. He’s been slipping in and out of consciousness the whole day and he feels out-of-sorts, like he’s left reality somewhere and has accidentally slipped into wherever he is now—where it’s cold and dark and hard.

His phone rings, a number he doesn’t recognize flashing on the screen.

Jeongguk answers too eagerly. “Hello?” 

“Is this Jeon Jeongguk?” A female voice asks politely. His excitement fades.

“Yes.”

“I’m just calling to ask about a reservation for a Kim Taehyung? He left me your number as a back-up one and I can’t get ahold of him right now.”

“We broke up,” Jeongguk says shortly. “You can cancel the reservation.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman says. “Have a pleasant night, Jeongguk-ssi.”

He hangs up and flops back down against the pillows, doing a quick search of the phone number. The result brings fresh tears to his eyes: it’s a restaurant that Jeongguk had wanted to try for months. Unfortunately, he never had anyone to go with and it was sixty-five thousand won per person. At least.  

Taehyung had remembered that. He’d saved his money for that. He’d made reservations, probably weeks in advance, just for Jeongguk.

Goddammit. He’s a fucking idiot.  

He doesn’t have the strength to stop the tears, so he lets himself cry into his pillow, soundless, aching sobs that drown out his hunger and the broken sound of his heart.

~~~~

Jeongguk doesn’t know how he falls asleep again, but when he wakes he can’t tell what time it is and there’s someone pounding at the door.

He can tell it’s Yugyeom—and Bambam, by the sound of it—from the way he’s being threatened. Honestly, who else would tell him to open the door right now or be prepared to have his dick chopped off?

Jeongguk drags himself out of bed, his knees nearly giving out as a wave of dizziness and nausea overwhelm him. He stops for a second, waiting for the yellow to fade from his vision and for his ears to stop ringing before he shuffles over to the door and opens it just as Yugyeom is about to knock again.

 “Oh my god,” Bambam says by way of greeting, his mouth falling open in shock. “What the actual fuck, Jeongguk.” 

“I’m with Bambam,” Yugyeom agrees, looking Jeongguk up and down. “What happened to you? When was the last time you ate?”

“Um…Wednesday night?” Jeongguk says. Everything’s happened so fast, and he’s slept away most of the day.

“Fuck,” Bambam says again, and he and Yugyeom push into Jeongguk’s dorm. “Jeongguk, it’s almost eleven. On Thursday.” 

“So that’s why I feel so weird,” Jeongguk says faintly.

“You should sit down,” Yugyeom says, steering Jeongguk to the sofa. “Bambam and I came here from the middle of our date—Seokjin called, saying that Jimin couldn’t reach you—”

“He was freaking out,” Bambam adds. 

“Right, so we couldn’t grab you anything. Do you want us to order something?” Yugyeom asks. “You’ll have to pay because we’re broke—”

“It would be easier if you just had instant ramyeon somewhere,” Bamabm cuts in, and the conversation is becoming so hard to follow that Jeongguk weakly points them in the direction of the instant noodles and collapses back against the couch.

“You look terrible,” Bambam tells him while Yugyeom tries to figure out how to open the microwave.

 Jeongguk doesn’t have the energy for a retort. “I know you’re going to ask, Bambam, so I’ll just tell you: yeah, Taehyung and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“You broke up?” Bambam asks, looking shocked. “How does that work? He literally looked at you like you were even better than winning Mario Kart. Maybe even more than that.”

“That is the worst metaphor I have ever heard,” Yugyeom says from his spot on the stove, instant noodles ready to go. “Hey, Jeongguk, you have any Milkis?”

Jeongguk points at the fridge and turns back to Bambam. “We weren’t dating. And he said he loved me.”

Silence quickly falls over the room. “What’s wrong with that?” Yugyeom finally asks. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Jeongguk can feel whatever part of him that isn’t exhausted and numb get defensive. “It overwhelmed me,” he says instead of arguing—there’s no point, not really. “I’ve never have anyone tell me that before. I didn’t even know it was a possibility.”  

“Did you at least say you loved him back? Or that you weren’t ready?” Bambam pushes, despite the warning glare from Yugyeom.

Jeongguk’s face burns with shame. “I said I couldn’t. Love him back, that is.”

“That’s literally the exact opposite of what you want to say,” Bambam cries, and Yugyeom pokes him in the back of his head with his free hand. He hands the bowl of noodles to Jeongguk, who swears he has never tasted anything as delicious as this crappy instant ramyeon.

“So it’s over, then?” Yugyeom asks, sitting down next to Bambam.

Jeongguk takes a breath between bites to shrug. “I need to apologize,” he admits. “There’s something…off about this whole thing. Lie, it hurts. And It feels like I can’t breathe. Is that normal? Is that supposed to happen?”

He doesn’t mean for his voice to crack in desperation, and it only makes him blush again. To cover it up, he shovels more noodles into his mouth, missing the exasperated look Yugyeom and  Bambam exchange.

“I don’t think this should have happened at all,” Yugyeom points out. “Doesn’t it, like, go against the universe? Like, wasn’t it fate or something that you guys met?”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Jeongguk mumbles, but it sounds worn-out and false to his own ears. “But are you guys dating now? Congratulations,” he offers, changing the subject, and downs the rest of his soup.

“Try again with Taehyung,” Yugyeom says firmly, refusing to let the conversation turn to him. “This is really, really fucked up. And Taehyung didn’t deserve it.

“Taehyung’s so nice,” Bambam muses, “and even you’re bearable to be around when you’re with him.”

Jeongguk is too tired to do anything but take insult. “He hasn’t responded to anything.”

“Give him time,” Yugyeom says, looking way more sage than Jeongguk knows he is. “You guys are meant to be. He’ll come around.”

“And when he does, don’t fuck it up again,” Bambam tacks on, smiling cheerfully.

Jeongguk shrugs. “That’d be a first,” he mutters to himself. Then he looks over to his two friends. “Thanks for checking in.”

“We were gonna break down your door if you didn’t let us in,” Yugyeom tells him. “So next time, pick up your phone and we won’t threaten to cut off your dick.”

Jeongguk cracks a half-smile at that one.

“Hey, there it is!” Bambam cheers. “See, look. Hope for the future.”

He and Yugyeom high-five. “That just made the interrupted date worth it,” Bambam says, grinning.

“Almost,” Yugyeom amends. “It was a pretty expensive meal. Also, hey, do you remember when you first didn’t like Jeongguk because you thought we were hooking up?”

Bambam shrugs. “It was a legitimate concern.” 

“It was not, ” Yugyeom says, cracking up. “It was literally one time, Bammie.” He reaches out to smack his boyfriend, which of course makes Bambam retaliate. They go off so quickly from there that Jeongguk gives up on trying to keep track of what they’re saying.

Now that he’s full, exhaustion starts to creep back in. He must’ve had at least ten hours of sleep today, but his eyelids still itch like he’s had none.

“Oh, shit. We didn’t realize we were keeping you up,” Bambam says, and Jeongguk opens his eyes groggily.

“Hmm?” He asks, and struggles to his feet. “I’m awake. Don’t worry. Not your fault.”

“Go to bed, Jeongguk,” Yugyeom says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t pretend to be coherent.”

“I’ve already slept so much, though,” Jeongguk complains, but drags himself to his bed anyway. Yugyeom and Bambam stand, looking huge in his tiny room.

“We’ll be back,” Yugyeom says. 

“That’s a promise,” Bambam confirms. Then, for good measure,  he adds, “and a threat, too.”

With that, they’re out the door, saying their goodbyes and disappearing into the dim hallway.

Jeongguk crawls back into bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin and squeezing his eyes shut. He wants to badly to text Taehyung again, but he remembers Yugyeom telling him just give him time.

He latches onto this thought desperately—that in time, Taehyung will come around. Hopefully Jeongguk will have shit more in order by then so maybe, just maybe, he won’t mess everything up. Again .

This thought clings to him, even as he closes his eyes and slips back into numb, dark sleep.

~~~~

By Christmas nearly two months later, nothing has changed. It might have gotten worse, actually.

Jeongguk has so much trouble mustering the energy to do anything these days that he spends almost all of his free time lying in bed, listlessly scrolling through his phone or starting at the wall blankly. On the good days, he’ll go over to Seokjin’s or down to the library with Eunha or Yugyeom and attempt his homework.

But most days are the same: quiet monotony, waking up to the same alarm every day and no word from Taehyung. Not even a give me more time or I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

Jimin checks up on him daily—an unexpected kindness that Jeongguk appreciates more than he can say, texts like how’s today?

He gets one of these texts now, standing in line at the cafeteria to try to force himself to eat. As the cafeteria woman spoons rice and kimchi onto his plate, he texts back:

     normal. how’s taehyung?

The last two months have been the same thing. Jimin asks, Jeongguk answers, then prods about Taehyung. And Jimin always replies with some form of:

     You know I can’t tell you that. Are you looking forward to Christmas break?

Jeongguk puts his phone away, decidedly not answering that question. His mother and father have requested that he come home for Christmas. He knows his brother will also be there—which means he has no chance of hiding whatever’s wrong with him. Junghyun is annoying like that. He’s always been able to pick up even the most subtle shifts of Jeongguk’s mood.

He sighs and sits down at an empty table. He wishes he was hungrier, because the beef looks really good. Unfortunately, his stomach doesn’t agree, churning angrily when he lifts a bit of kimchi to his mouth.

Looks like he’ll be eating plain rice. Again.

He’s just about to dig in when the hair on the back of his neck raises. Something in his stomach flutters and he whirls around, desperate to see if it’s who he thinks it is, because there is one person in the whole world that can electrify him with a mere look—

—there. He’s standing outside of the cafeteria, dark hair falling over a pallid face, eyes glassy and tired.

Even now, Kim Taehyung is beautiful. Emotion hits Jeongguk so hard in the chest it punches a hole in his lungs, filling him with bitter sadness and loneliness that hurts in very marrow of his bones.

Taehyung, like always, knows when Jeongguk’s eyes are on him and lifts his face—a subconscious move, mere instinct—and their gazes connect.

The same kind of shock runs through them, and the thought oh god, he looks terrible. This is what they’ve done to each other: half-moon stamps under their eyes like bruises, fingers that tremble around chopsticks, a heart that stutters unevenly and a body that refuses to get out of bed.

Jeongguk half-stands, but Taehyung pulls out of the moment first, shaking his head a little. There is so much agony there that it makes Jeongguk yearn to close the space between them. But he knows he must give Taehyung his time, and his space, so he sits back down.

Taehyung gives him one last look, sad and lingering, before he’s slipping away, lifting his phone to his ear. Jeongguk watches him go, a too-frail body quickly lost in the crush of students.

Jeongguk snaps himself out of it and goes back to his rice.

He doesn’t see Taehyung again for a long time.

~~~~

Sadness, Jeongguk discovers, becomes bearable after a little while. Time helps him shoulder his grief, and he settles into his new normal. He goes home for Christmas. His mother complains that he’s not eating enough, but it’s only Junghyun who notices the way Jeongguk merely plays with his food instead of eating it. He doesn’t ask, though. He just tells Jeongguk that maybe he should see a doctor or talk to someone. His father is in a surprisingly good mood, and he gives Jeongguk and his brother two hundred thousand won each.  

He gets texts from all of his friends on New Years. Seokjin and Namjoon are at the former’s house, where Seokjin’s cooking has quickly melted any frozen hearts of conservative aunties or grandfathers. Yugyeom sends a selfie of him and Bambam making out under some fireworks. Even Mark posts a picture with an romantically ambiguous caption that Jeongguk’s pretty sure refers to Jackson. He doesn’t know when that became a thing, but he’s glad Mark is happier. Last time he’d seen the older boy, he’d looked miserable.

School is back in session after that with renewed vigor. His professors swamp him with homework that he can barely keep up with, so he decides it’s not worth it and spends the rest of January sleeping.

And still, he hurts. He turns around to say something but nobody is there, or he’ll go for his phone before remembering the last time he and Taehyung talked was now almost four months ago.

Snow covers the sidewalks and they wake up to grey skies daily, and the winter in Jeongguk’s heart goes on.

Seokjin comes over sometime in mid-February with a pot of seaweed soup. Jeongguk almost cries at the sight of him; it’s been ages since he saw Seokjin in person.

“We miss you on Wednesdays,” Seokjin tells Jeongguk, smoothing the hair off of Jeongguk’s forehead. “You really should be eating more,” he adds, noticing how Jeongguk’s shirts don’t fit him right in the shoulders or the chest, and how he’s permanently moved into sweatpants because jeans no longer stay on his hips.

“I’m trying, hyung,” Jeongguk mumbles, eating tiny spoonfuls of broth at a time. It’s delicious, as all things Seokjin cooks are, but his appetite is long-gone at this point. “Whenever I think I’ll hit the bottom and start to come up again, there’s always more.”

Seokjin rubs his back. “Why?”

“I just can’t help thinking…” Jeongguk starts, unsure. “What if I had done it differently? I’m such a fucked-up person, hyung. I can’t believe I said that to him. What kind of human being am I? Do I even deserve to be here if I can just go off and tell someone that I can’t love them back? That they don’t get to be loved back?”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” Seokjin says, and Jeongguk drops his head into his hands.

“I know,” Jeongguk says tiredly. “I can’t help it. I’m so selfish and stupid and unworthy of anything Taehyung gave me. I took him for granted and now I’ve lost someone incredible and I just know that however I loved Taehyung—in my own fucked-up way—will never happen again. Not in the same way.”

He thinks about the train they’d shared, all those months ago and turns to Seokjin. “Do you see now, hyung?”

“I see you,” Seokjin says, watery-eyed. “I see you. And I’m here. Eat your soup.”

Jeongguk manages to finish a bowl under Seokjin’s watchful eyes while they watch Pacific Rim on Jeongguk’s computer. After the movie’s over, Seokjin gives Jeongguk a big hug on behalf of Namjoon, and then another one from himself.

“You’re a good kid, Jeongguk,” Seokjin tells him wholeheartedly. “Please call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just someone who’ll listen.”

Jeongguk’s heart squeezes at the warmth in Seokjin’s face. “I will. Thanks, hyung." 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Seokjin says, halfway down the hallway. “Jimin wants you to call him.”

“Why?” Jeongguk asks, but Seokjin only shrugs, blowing one more kiss before he vanishes down the stairs.

 Jeongguk unlocks his phone when he gets back inside, his fingers hovering over Jimin’s number. He knows that Jimin’s been hanging around Taehyung a lot—Jimin tells him so, but Jeongguk can never get any actual information out of him.

He turns his phone off and tosses it aside. If it’s so important, Jimin can either text him or come see him in his dorm room.

Once he’s comfortably swaddled in a blanket that he should’ve washed weeks ago, he sets up his laptop and finds some old Overwatch live streams to watch. His roommate comes back at around ten, only sparing a confused glance towards Jeongguk before he’s got his headphones on and his computer open.

It’s an hour later when his phone buzzes with an incoming call from Seokjin.

“Hello—”

“Jeongguk, why didn’t you call me an hour ago?” Jimin—not Seokjin—demands as soon as he picks up. He sounds out of breath, and Jeongguk can hear a lot of people in the background.

“I didn’t think it was important,” Jeongguk responds listlessly. “Are you at a club right now? It’s loud.”

“I’m looking for Taehyung,” Jimin huffs, and that gets Jeongguk’s attention. He kicks of the blanket and stands up. “Which you would’ve known if you called me before my phone died.”

“What?” Jeongguk asks, bewildered. “Is he—why’re you looking for him?”

“He’s been missing for almost a whole day,” Jimin explains hastily. “And I was wondering if one, you’d seen him recently and two, if you could come help. I just called Seokjin before you, but I’ve been trying to keep this from being a big thing.”

Jeongguk is already moving towards the door. “Of course I’ll come help,” he hears himself saying, and for the first time in a while he starts to feel something— panic, anxiety, worry, he doesn’t care. It’s better than the awful numbness and exhaustion that have colored these last few months in dull shades.

“Oh, thank god,” Jimin sighs. “Good. Okay, um, meet me by the library. We know he’s somewhere near campus—I got a quick read of his GPS location before my phone died.”

“I’ll be there,” Jeongguk promises, and hangs up. He shoves his feet into his shoes, pulling on two coats—a habit by now—and a scarf.

Hold on, Taehyung, he thinks as he hurries out of the dorm and into the cold night. This time, I’m not going to let you down.

~~~~

Jimin’s nose is red and running by the time Jeongguk gets to the library. He dances from one foot to the other, his face wrinkled with deep worry.

“You’re here,” Jimin says when Jeongguk approaches. He wastes no time, grabbing Jeongguk’s arm and dragging him towards the edge of the campus. “Seokjin’s going around to a couple bars that Taehyung’s been to. I’ve checked all the coffee shops and movie theaters, but he’s not in any of those.”

“Have you checked any nightclubs?” Jeongguk asks, and Jimin frowns.

“Taehyung hasn’t been to a nightclub in a while,” he says, worrying at his bottom lip. “Not since his last boyfriend— oh. ”

“Anonymity,” Jeongguk points out. “An escape.”

“Makes sense,” Jimin nods, and pulls out his phone. “I’m looking for clubs in the area where I saw his GPS…and there. This has to be it.” He shows Jeongguk the map, the little marker on the name Indigo.

“A fifteen minute walk,” Jimin says, squinting at the screen.

Jeongguk’s fists clench inside of his pockets. “I bet we can make it five if we run.” He is so worried it nearly makes him sick—if he is at the club, what state will he be in? What will Jeongguk have to finally come to terms with?

Jimin looks at him sadly. “You still care.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk chokes out, voice thick with emotion. “I, um. I really, really miss him.”

“He cares a lot about you,” Jimin says gently, and the use of the present tense does not go unnoticed by Jeongguk.

“I miss that,” Jeongguk admits. “I miss…I miss how easy it was. Even though we kind of fell together too quickly.”

A memory resurfaces as they head down the street—a girl with a buzzed head, standing outside the door to the second floor of Wonwoo’s house. Jeongguk had a bedhead and a guilty look while the girl told him One day you’re going to fall for someone so hard and fast you won’t even feel the pain of hitting the ground.

She was right, he realizes without much surprise. He didn’t feel the impact, only the agony of trying to breathe with shattered lungs.

Jimin takes a left down a narrow street packed with overfilled bars and seedy clubs. They keep going until they reach the end of the block, where Indigo is—the outsie painted black, the neon sign stylized in English. A bouncer narrows his eyes at Jimin and Jeongguk, who hesitate. There’s a short line, but it looks like it isn’t moving.

“We have to get in there,” Jeongguk says urgently.

Jimin holds up a hand. “Give me a second. I’m thinking.”

“Hyung’s here to save the day,” Jeongguk mutters, but when Jimin gives him another look, he shuts up.

“Alright,” Jimin says after a second. “I’ve got it.”

“What are you gonna do? Flirt with him?”

Jimin turns around to give Jeongguk a flat look. “Gukkie, we live in South Korea. Progress or not, it’s still mostly conservative. No, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to ask nicely.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Jeongguk starts to say. “Wait, you’re gonna do what?”

But Jimin is already striding forward, cutting past the people in line (to many disgruntled mutters) and coming to a halt in front of the bouncer.

“I’m really sorry to be one of those guys,” Jimin says, bowing his head politely, “but I really need to get in there. I think my friend’s in trouble. My name’s Park Jimin, and my friend is Kim Taehyung—you might know him?”

The bouncer looks surprised at Jimin’s honesty and politeness, but still doesn’t budge. “Kim Taehyung?” He asks, eyebrows high. “How do you know him?”

“We go to school together,” Jimin replies sweetly, smiling. Jeongguk tries hard not to roll his eyes. “He’s my best friend.”

“Taehung’s always been nice to me and the other guys—but it’s been months since Taehyung has come here,” the bouncer replies, and actually uncrosses his arms. “Which is why I was surprised to see him tonight. He looked upset.”

“He’s having a rough time,” Jimin explains, and he’s laying it on thick now, pulling all of his charms out. It’s a miracle that the bouncer hasn’t gotten a cavity from it yet. “I just want to make sure he’s not in trouble. Will you give me twenty minutes?”

The bouncer focuses on Jeongguk over Jimin’s shoulder. “And what about your friend?”

Jimin opens his mouth, but Jeongguk cuts in before he say anything. “I’m in love with Kim Taehyung,” he says in a rush, and the bouncer’s eyes widen. “And I screwed up. I’m the reason he’s in there right now. I at least need to make sure he’s okay. I owe him that much.”

The bouncer looks at him, long and hard. Jeongguk holds his breath, ignoring the way Jimin is glaring at him.

“This is way above my paygrade,” the bouncer mutters. “Fine. Twenty minutes. We’re already over-capacity.” And with that, he steps aside, opening the door and letting them into the club.

Jimin is starting at Jeongguk like he doesn’t recognize him. “You just said you love Kim Taehyung.”

Jeongguk lets out a tight breath. “Yeah.”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin spluttered, grabbing Jeongguk and shaking him a little bit. “You just said you love Kim Taehyung!”

“It’s the truth, okay!” Jeongguk shouts, tearing out of Jimin’s grip. “For fuck’s sake, Jimin—I said I love him because I do. I’m sorry it took me such a long time to get there. And it’s sort of too late, I guess, but I had to say it. Even if it’s not to him.”

“You still might get your chance,” Jimin says, pointing over Jeongguk’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Even from far away, under dim club lights, Jeongguk can recognize Taehyung. He doesn’t look good—slumped forward on the bar, narrow shoulder blades visible through the thin material of his shirt—but Jeongguk’s heart starts to pound so hard it feels like his ribs might break. This is what he’s been waiting for, and he takes off through the crowd, Jimin’s shout of warning fading behind him.

But something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong with Taehyung, and now that Jeongguk’s closer he can see the blue tinge to Taehyung’s fingers. His back moves shallowly, and he doesn’t budge, even when Jeongguk tentatively puts a hand on his arm.

His face is deathly pale, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. His lips are cracked and nearly bloodless—it looks like he’s freezing, but that’s impossible, because they’re inside in a sweaty club. But then Jeongguk takes in all the empty shot glasses scattered around Taehyung—there’s seven or eight of them.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk spits, just as Jimin gets to him.

“Jeongguk, what’s—”

“Call an ambulance,” Jeongguk shouts over the music. “Taehyung’s got alcohol poisoning.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit,” he says, taking Jeongguk’s proffered phone and dialing 119 as fast as his fingers can manage.

Jeongguk crouches down to Taehyung, mouth by his ear. “Taehyung,” he coaxes, shaking the older boy. “Taehyung, you have to wake up. Open your eyes.”

Taehyung groans, eyelashes fluttering. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, and Jeongguk’s heart contracts at the sound of his voice.

“You have to, baby, come on,” Jeongguk says, getting a shoulder on Taehyung’s arm and pushing. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“Not sick,” Taehyung whines, but allows Jeongguk to haul him to his feet. His head lolls uselessly, and he knocks a half-full shot over, staining his jeans.

Jimin is talking rapidly on the phone, but he pulls it away from his face when Jeongguk stands straight, Taehyung slumped into his side.

“They’re outside,” Jimin says, and hangs up. “Stick close to me. I’ll clear the way.”

With Jimin in front, shoving people aside and Jeongguk behind him, half-carrying, half-dragging Taehyung, they make it outside in record time.

There’s an ambulance parked there, and as soon as the paramedics seem them, they rush over. The sirens cast the area in green and red, and the people in line gasp as Taehyung starts to collapse.

“We’ve got him,” a medic is saying to Jeongguk, who realizes he’s holding on to Taehyung tightly. “Sir, you have to let go.”

Jimin gently pulls Jeongguk away from Taehyung. Every part of Jeongguk protests at that, but he can do nothing but watch as they load Taehyung onto a stretcher and bundle him into the ambulance.

“We’ll get a taxi,” Jimin promises, tugging Jeongguk towards the street. Jimin sticks his arm out and within seconds, a taxi drives up to the curb. Jimin closes the door behind him, and leans up to give the driver the address.

Jeongguk sits back and fiddles with his phone anxiously, before he remembers Seokjin’s still wandering around, looking for Taehyung. Jeongguk finds his number as the taxi lurches away from the curb, carrying them out of the university area and into downtown Seoul.

“Jeongguk?” Seokjin answers immediately. “Did you find him?”

“We did,” Jeongguk rasps. “Hyung, he’s not in good shape. I think he’s got alcohol poisoning—”

“ What?” Seokjing screeches, and Jeongguk has to hold the phone away from his ear to protect his hearing. “Oh my god,” Seokjin continues at a lower volume. “Oh my god. Okay. Is he in an ambulance? Which hospital are you going to?”

“Yanji,” Jeongguk replies. “At least, I think so. That’s where the emergency patients go.”

Seokjin takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he repeats. “I’m going home to get Namjoon and his car, and I’ll meet you there, alright?”

“Alright, hyung,” Jeongguk confirms. A small knot of tension relaxes in his chest at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, ever-comforting and ever-warm.

“And Jeongguk?”

“Mmm?” Jeongguk says as the taxi makes a right. The hospital is in sight now, and Jeongguk’s leg bounces up-and-down, up-and-down, stomach tied in knots.

“He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

They both know it’s not really the truth, but Jeongguk takes solace in the words anyway.

Seokjin hangs up, and Jeongguk and Jimin tumble out of the taxi, jogging to the entrance of the hospital. The automatic doors slide back and Jeongguk’s hit by a wave of sterile, too-clean air that burns the inside of his nose. The neon lights are too bright, bouncing off the white walls and waiting benches and making Jeongguk feel dizzy.

He sits down hard, breathing through his mouth and trying not to vomit or pass out. Jimin gives him a worried glance before going to check with the nurse at the desk.

All Jeongguk can think about is Taehyung’s face, so thin and pale, cast in the unnatural purple light of the club. He’d looked exhausted, like all the life and energy that made him Taehyung had been sucked out of him.

It was his fault. He’d spent two months coming to terms with that, and two more accepting the fact that he’d pushed Taehyung away because he’d fallen in love for the first time and it had terrified him so thoroughly he’d locked it away.

He loves Taehyung. He’s loved Taehyung for a while, and he thinks that Taehyung knew that—knew it in the way Jeongguk would bring two coats, or his favorite coffee. Or maybe he knew it in the way Jeongguk would rub his back when he cried or ran fingers through his hair when they lay in bed. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way Jeongguk stayed all the way through the night even when he’d told himself he shouldn’t.

Either way, Taehyung had known. But it had been too much too soon, Jeongguk hadn’t been prepared.

And now he’s here, sitting in a hospital with Taehyung behind the emergency doors. His future is unknown and unsure, balancing on the edge of a cliff and unwilling to tilt either way.

Jimin comes back and sits down next to him. “They’re treating him right now,” he reports. “They say he’s in rough shape, but he should be okay with some rest. The doctors should be coming out in about half an hour or so.”

Jeongguk sighs and leans into Jimin. “I’m worried,” he whispers.

“Me too,” Jimin says, wrapping an arm around Jeongguk. “Did Seokjin say when he’d get here?”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply, but he doesn’t need to because Seokjin and Namjoon burst into the hospital at that exact moment, looking extremely harried and a bit windblown.

They make a beeline when they spot Jeongguk and Jimin. Seokjin immediately reaches down and crushes them both in a hug. Namjoon has a bit more tact and waits for them to get to their feet before he hugs them as well.

“He’s getting treated right now,” Jimin says, repeating the same thing he told Jeongguk. “There’s nothing we can do but wait, Seokjin-hyung.”

Seokjin fidgets with a loose string on his coat, and Namjoon catches his fingers before he can pull at it. “Jin,” Namjoon prompts softly. “It’s going to be okay. There’s nothing we can do for him right now except wait.”

Seokjin nods, and Namjoon interlaces their fingers despite the staring some of the other people are doing.

“You look more alive,” Namjoon points out, nodding at Jeongguk. “I mean, you’re still malnourished and you need to sleep, but there’s feeling back in your eyes.”

Jeongguk’s face heats a little. “I guess.”

“Have you worked things out with yourself?” Seokjin asks, and he’s known Jeongguk for long enough to know that the noncommittal shrug he gives means yes.

They don’t say much more after that as the minutes stretch on. Half an hour passes, and then an hour before the doctors finally come out. “Do we have a family member of Kim Taehyung here?”

Jeongguk’s nudged to his feet by both Jimin and Seokjin, so he stumbles over to the doctor, who gives Jeongguk a curious look.

“I’m his cousin,” Jeongguk explains hastily. The doctor looks like he doesn’t want to believe Jeongguk, but sighs tiredly and explains the situation to Jeongguk.

“He’s fine,” the doctor says wearily. “He’s still got alcohol in his bloodstream, but we’ve given him a gastric lavage to clear out the rest of it. He’s underweight and hasn’t been sleeping enough, so what he needs most at this point is a lot of rest.”

“But he’ll be okay?” Jeongguk asks breathlessly.

“He’ll recover,” the doctor answers. “You can take another person to go back and visit him, if you’d like. He’s still unconscious.”

And that’s how Jeongguk and Jimin end up in Taehyung’s hospital room, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor and the faint whirr of the nose tube. His breathing has normalized, at least, and his fingers aren’t blue anymore.

Relief hits Jeongguk so hard his knees buckle. He’s suddenly exhausted, like the little energy he’s stored over the last month has been used, burned away by pure adrenaline.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jimin hands him some tissues. “I’ll wait outside, okay?” He says, and then it’s just Taehyung and Jeongguk.

Taehyung’s hand is so cold when Jeongguk takes it, minding not to jostle the IV that’s connected to his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk says after a moment. “And I know that’s not what you want to hear, or what you deserve to hear, but it’s true.”

Beep-beep-beep, goes the heart monitor, in time with the steady drip of the IV.

“I love you,” Jeongguk says softly. “I have for a little while, baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it when you needed me to. I’ve just never loved someone like I love you. And it’s scary.” He squeezes Taehyung’s hand gently. “And I’ll say it again when you wake up. I’ll say it as many times as you need. I want to start again with you.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, but Jeongguk swears he squeezes his hand in return.

~~~~

Like most worthwhile things, starting over takes time and effort. Taehyung wakes up the next morning to Jeongguk asleep in the tiny hospital chair by his bed. And despite having the worst hangover of his whole entire life, seeing Jeongguk there makes it a little better.

Two days later, they sit down at Taehyung’s favorite cafe—where Jeongguk’s already gotten coffee for the both of them—and talk. Taehyung tells Jeongguk about his exes, about how he’s always fallen too fast and too hard. He tells Jeongguk that what he’d done hurt, how it had made him feel unlovable, weak, and silly. And he apologizes, too, for rushing in too fast without talking to Jeongguk.

Jeongguk apologizes too. He repeats what he said in the hospital, but mostly he forgives Taehyung and reminds him that he’s beautiful and infinitely precious, and that Jeongguk loves him.

(That one makes Taehyung start crying).

Things get better after that. Taehyung and Jeongguk are unable to keep themselves away from each other, drawing together like magnets. Jeongguk carefully relearns the shape of Taehyung’s eyes, and stores away that little smile of his, the one that Jeongguk can now understand because it says I love you with my whole heart and soul.

Taehyung forgives Jeongguk when he sees that Jeongguk really means what he says. Jeongguk tries hard to start saying what he feels, and Taehyung tries hard to slow down a little bit. And it works. They work, and start to unfold again like the new leaves of spring, encouraged by warmth and love that is expressed more often and more freely.

Taehyung finishes his sketchbook at the end of April. The last picture he draws is the way he sees Jeongguk when he’s asleep, back turned to Taehyung. The lines are soft and the blanket is blue like the light filtering through the window.

“Do you really see me like that?” Jeongguk asks as he flips through the book, amazed. Through Taehyung’s eyes, he looks gentle and capable of infinite love. He looks like the person he’s always wanted to be, but could never become.

Taehyung lifts his head from Jeongguk’s thigh. “Of course,” Taehyung says, face soft. “I’ve always seen you like that. Even since the train.”

Jeongguk blinks down at Taehyung in amazement. “You’re incredible. You know that, right?”

Taehyung laughs and sits up. “They’re just sketches, Jeongukkie.” But he lets himself be pulled into Jeongguk’s lap, kissing back.

Jeongguk pulls away. “I love you,” he tells Taehyung.

“You always say that,” Taehyung teases, flicking Jeongguk’s nose.

“’Cause it’s true, baby,” Jeongguk shrugs, going in for another kiss. Taehyung doesn’t let him have it, laughing as he dodges Jeongguk’s mouth. Eventually, Jeongguk gives up and proceeds to dump Taehyung out of his lap and onto the floor.

“I can’t believe I’m dating you,” Taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a little kid. Who wants a little kid for a boyfriend?”

Jeongguk grins down at him. “It’s too late. You’re stuck with me forever.”  

Taehyung crawls back onto the couch. “You went from being terrified of commitment to never wanting to leave real quick.”

“Believe me,” Jeongguk says, trying not to think too hard about it. “I’m still terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time—I only know that whatever it is, I want to being doing it with you.”

Taehyung looks at him, baffled. A slow smile spreads over his face. “You never cease to surprise me,” he says in amazement, reaching over to touch Jeongguk’s face. “Now I’m really never giving you up. You’re too cute.”

“I am not,” Jeongguk defends hotly, but Taehyung just giggles and starts kissing every inch of Jeongguk’s face that he can reach. “Hey, hey, Taehyung, get off of me, or I’ll throw you on the ground again—”

But Taehyung merely laughs, and the conversation ends when he presses his mouth to Jeongguk’s.

~~~~

Later, when they’re lying in Taehyung’s bed, long after Jimin’s gone to sleep, Taehyung turns to Jeongguk.

“Hey,” he whispers, nudging Jeongguk. “Jeonggukkie.”

“I’m sleeping,” Jeongguk whispers back.

“Sleeping people don’t talk,” Taehyung retorts, and keeps poking Jeongguk in the side until Jeongguk sighs and rolls over to face Taehyung.

“ What ,” he hisses, not really that upset.

“Which parts of me do you love the most?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“You’re being stupid,” Jeongguk sighs. “Go to bed.”

“I’m just wondering!” Taehyung whines, kicking Jeongguk in the shin.

“All of you,” Jeongguk huffs. “I love all you.”

“Even when I ask you questions at one in the morning?” Taehyung prods, grinning slyly.

“Even then,” Jeongguk replies, softening.

“Even when we went too fast and you were hurting?”

“Even then,” Jeongguk repeats, carding his fingers through Taehyung’s hair. “It was hard. But yeah. I loved all of you then, too.”

“And now?” Taehyung asks hopefully. “What about now?”

“Especially now.”

“You love me?”

“Yeah. Always.”

Taehyung seems satisfied with that, and sighs happily, a breath that Jeongguk can feel with his whole body. Quiet falls for a while, and Jeongguk is almost asleep when Taehyung’s drowsy voice drifts through the warm air.

“I love all of you too, Jeongguk.”

And that, Jeongguk decides contentedly, is enough for him.