Chapter Text
Jungkook had a bad habit of always feeling just a little lost.
It wasn’t that Jungkook had nowhere to go- he had plenty of places he could be. Just nowhere in particular he had wanted to stay.
There were numerous places he was able to call home.
A small two-story house in the suburbs with a green lawn that grew too fast in the summertime; an apartment on the thirteenth floor by University Avenue and Richmond St. West- where all his friends seemed to cohabitate together; there had even been a small, single-bedroom dorm in his first year residence building that he had called home for a little while.
Home was now his first apartment in downtown Toronto.
It was a small three bedroom flat two floors above a Pho shop that stayed open well into the night and the early hours of the morning. It was complete with a neon sign that flashed in the window and a menu that seemed more extensive than most first-year university textbooks.
The building itself was nothing impressive, but it had its own respective charm and character that Jungkook had learnt to value in his first two weeks living there. The building creaked with every gust of wind and the stairs groaned under foot if one did not tread lightly on their feet. It was an old building, though no older than the others that occupied the neighbourhood- save for the more modern malls that had sprung up in the 70s.
It was small, quaint, though never quiet as it sat nestled in the jumbled, colourful borough that was Chinatown.
The people who lived there, though seldom made themselves known, were also quite unique in their own way. The majority of them were students all seeking cheap rent within walking distance to their respective schools. There was a rowdy group of girls who lived in the unit at the end of the hall on Jungkook’s floor who always seemed to be gushing over some boy in high pitched squeals in the early hours of the morning. It never seemed to properly disturb the residence of the building though as the tenants themselves never went to bed before 2am.
The grad students across the corridor from Jungkook, however, always seemed to take offence to the noise, despite being the rowdiest tenants in the building.
And then there was the unit adjacent to Jungkook’s own apartment. Jungkook had yet to meet them, even in passing during the morning rush to classes or work. He had begun to suspect that the neighbours rarely left the house during the daylight hours, for Jungkook could only ever hear them bickering through the thin walls well past minute. The voices were only masked by the sounds of pop music or sultry jazz.
Somehow they seemed to be in keeping in character with the overall aesthetic of the building- unique and bustling with life, even if it was not always in keeping with traditional social customs required of most tenants in most ordinary buildings.
Even Jungkook’s apartment, complete with his two roommates he had met in his first year of school, seemed to fit into the building. They were a welcomed addition.
They were all young, loud, and full of a restless energy.
All looking for somewhere to belong.
Each looking to carve themselves a little piece of the world, to take and make their own.
Jungkook just didn’t realize that home didn’t have to be a particular place. Sometimes, home was a person. And sometimes home was a piece of yourself that you carried with you
and made for yourself.
But then again, Jungkook had always believed it to be a dangerous thing to make a home out of a person. It could be a tragic thing, even though it didn’t have to be. But Jungkook had seen to many people come together only to fall apart.
Meeting Kim Taehyung had been a chance encounter that day. A product of two boys who didn’t know each other, with very different lives, both deciding to reside in the same city and in the same building. Their meeting was bound to happen eventually. They were neighbours after all.
They had met in the first floor stairwell of their unbeknownst shared building on a particularly rainy Monday in the middle of September. It was the sort of rain that would soak a person to their bone should they be unprepared. The sort of heavy, fat rain that left one and shaking and chilled for hours afterwards, with the disillusionment that they would never feel warm again.
Luckily, Jungkook had remembered to dress for the weather on his way to class that morning. His mother had raised him to always prepare for the worst so that had been exactly what he had done.
Taehyung, on the other hand, was not quite as thoughtful.
Jungkook saw the other boy standing half-way up the first flight of stairs with a crumbling, water logged cardboard box cradled precariously under one arm, while balancing the weight of his over-stuffed messenger bag. He tried to shift his large, sleek and black portfolio but seemed to lose his balance slightly- just enough to make Jungkook nervous.
“Do you need a hand?” Jungkook offered while he collapsed his umbrella. He wiped away the rain from his face with the back of his sleeve.
The boy turned then- caught by surprise, and dropped the cardboard box. It toppled down the stairs until it spilled over in front of Jungkook’s feet. He quickly dropped to his knees to pick up the mess sprawled over the floor. It was a strange assortment of embroidery thread and paint thinner, card paper, glitter and sponges. It looked like a child’s art project had fallen apart in front of him.
“Shit-sorry!” The boy cursed as he scampered down the stairs with his bag and portfolio flopping against his back.
“Don’t worry about it!” Jungkook assured him, passing the box to the stranger. His hands were frightfully cold and his jean jacket was soaked through. His wool sweater was heavy with water and dripping on the carpet. Rain droplets clung to the dark lashes that framed his nose.
“Thanks.” The boy smiled, big and wide as though he was terribly unbothered by the rain at all.
The boy started up the stairs again, a little wobbly on his legs as he struggled awkwardly to hold his possessions.
“Do you want me to carry that?” Jungkook offered once again.
The boy looked at him uneasily. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah… I mean- yeah.” He shrugged, a little too passive. He figured he ought to at least attempt to be friendly to the boy he assumed to be his neighbour. Besides, Jungkook wouldn’t mind making a habit of helping boys that smiled at him like everything just might be alright.
“That would be great! Thanks!” He enthused. He was a little hesitant as he passed his box to Jungkook. It was almost as though he expected Jungkook to change his mind at the last minute.
They were halfway to the third floor when he felt as though he ought to say something. He didn’t really know what possessed him to do so. He wasn’t naturally prone to conversation, considering himself to be a recluse more than anything else.
He wanted to blame it on the energy drink he chugged after class- the byproduct of another late night gaming session and poor habits.
“It’s a shame about the rain, eh?” He said in passing. He mentally kicked himself. Of course he would bring up the weather. There were certainly a hundred thousand other things he could have mentioned. Jungkook liked to believe he was an interesting person, though it was probably untrue.
The boy, however, didn’t seem disturbed by Jungkook’s lack of social skills in the slightest. “I’m hoping tomorrow will be better. It’s supposed to be sunny- I think.” He smiled. It was a bright, boxy little thing- eyebrows slightly raised, eyes friendly, and lips curved.
“I’m guessing you go to OCAD then?” asked Jungkook, searching for a more relevant and less anecdotal topic of conversation. But of course, as a university student only had two topics of conversation available to him: ‘how’s the weather?’ and ‘what’s your major?’
The boy laughed. “What gave it away?”
Jungkook eyed the quirky patches stitched to the boy’s denim jacket- clearly purchased from an online artist’s store- and the peculiar contents of the box he carried. “The art portfolio was my first clue. But you also have paint in your hair.”
His eyes grew wide, cheeks red. “Shit. I thought I had washed it all out. Fuck my life…”
“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Jungkook said with an amused laugh as he watched the boy try to separate the paint from his hair. It was cute. “What do you study, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I just started my third year of illustration! It’s a bitch but I love it! Do you go to OCAD too?” He asked, speaking in a way with which someone who truly loved what they were doing seemed to possess. A certain breathless excitement. A genuine appreciation for all the opportunities they had been granted. “You look like someone who does photography or industrial design. Something technical.”
“No. no… my brother did graphic design there though. He’s the creative one. I’m second year comp-sci at UofT.”
“Computer Science? That’s impressive. I can’t do math for the life of me. It’s a shame though… you have nice hands.” He said suddenly, all the words strung together in a hasty sentence. The syllables all blurred together into one long so that it took Jungkook just a second too long to decipher what had been said.
When he finally realized he stumbled on the stairs, missing a step. “What?” Jungkook stuttered. He was suddenly very self-conscious of how dry and cracked his fingers were- how rough his palms felt.
“Well… this is my floor.” The stranger then said, opening the door to the third floor corridor. “Thanks for your help!” He seemed all too embarrassed by his earlier statement, tips of his ears bright pink.
“This is my floor too.” Jungkook smirked, though he tried not to make his neighbour anymore embarrassed than he already was.
“Well, uh, thanks for your help again… I guess I’ll be seeing you around a lot then, neighbour.” He smiled, accepting the box that Jungkook extended to him.
“Jungkook. It’s my name.”
He smiled his boxy little grin, eyes shining and cheeps rosy. There was still a drop of water on the tip of his nose. “Taehyung. It was nice to meet you, neighbour Jungkook.”
It had been a long time since someone had smiled at Jungkook like that.
The second time Jungkook met Taehyung he was no longer dripping wet.
This time Jungkook looked a wreck- a mess of unwashed hair and a greasy face, paired with questionably clean sweatpants. His only accessories were the bag of groceries in his hand. A strange assortment of ramen, vegetables and a box of cookies he had impulsively bought because they had been on sale.
Taehyung was instead dressed smartly in tight black slacks and a turtleneck. Round glasses perched on the end of nose, making his puppy-dog eyes look just a little bigger. There was a glass of something bright and fruity in his hand.
“Partying on a Wednesday?” Jungkook commented as he searched his pockets for his keys. He wasn’t really sure why he spoke, why he called attention to himself when he looked like a disaster and felt like he had crawled out of the dumpster behind the first-floor restaurant.
But Jungkook had been blindsided by Taehyung’s presence. Suddenly assaulted by the existence of the impossibly handsome neighbour looming in his open doorway
“Not this time.” He replied with a shy laugh. “My roommate and I are going to an art installation for my friend’s sculpture class.”
“Sounds like a good time.” Jungkook lied. He wasn’t really sure why anyone would want to go to an art installation. It seemed like the dullest way to kill an evening. Not that
Jungkook had any grandiose or alluring plans of his own. His evenings largely consisted of yelling at MMOs and complaining that his teammates were letting him down.
If Jungkook was feeling fancy or particularly social he would order takeout and watch a movie with his roommates.
“It’s not so bad.” Taehyung shrugged. “You should come next time. Expand your horizons.”
“What kind of art is it? Like, what do they do?”
“I don’t really know. Probably mixed media pieces on the futility of prosperity in an era characterized by mass consumption across all levels of society. That- or female sexuality! Depends.” Taehyung seemed completely unbothered by his statement. Perhaps it was a common topic of conversation for art students. He didn’t really know.
“Oh… that sounds, um, interesting- I guess.” He tried to sounds enthusiastic. He really did. But nothing about female sexuality really appealed to him. And art shows weren’t exactly something that made him giddy. Maybe his roommate, Namjoon, but not him.
“It’ll be fun! I’m just waiting for my roommate to finish getting ready…” He trailed off and then ducked his head into his apartment. “But Jimin is late to everything!” He yelled,
“Because he needs to have perfect hair!”
“You’re quite the roommate.” Jungkook mused as he swung his leg absent mindedly. He was suddenly reminded that he was in his sandals.
Taehyung said something that Jungkook didn’t quite catch. He laughed at what the boy said anyways. But Jungkook couldn’t help but state- momentarily distracted by his overwhelming presence that he forgot to listen.
Taehyung looked good. His hair was a light sandy colour. Every honeyed and warm. He looked just a little intimidating, beautiful. As thought part of a world that Jungkook would never be a part of. Jungkook didn’t feel as though he was legally allowed to look at Taehyung for too long. He wasn’t eligible.
“Do you have any plans tonight?” He asked Jungkook.
He shook his head. “Nah. Just gaming and homework.” He wasn’t really going to work on his assignments, though. It was obvious. Jungkook prided himself on his good grades, but he would never describe himself as a good student. That involved a certain degree of consistent productivity and attentiveness that he just didn’t apply to his studies.
“Overwatch?” Taehyung asked with a crooked smile. It was all knowing and mischievous.
“How’d you know?”
“I can hear you through the walls. You’re quite the screamer.”
Jungkook’s ears burned. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor. “I just don’t like losing matches, y’know. I’m a little competitive, I guess…. Do you play at all?”
Taehyung shrugged.
Jungkook didn’t suspect Taehyung to be a hard-core gamer. He didn’t look the part- especially while holding a glass of something fruity and that presumably contained more alcohol than necessary. He looked too pretentious and too expensive- as though he belonged to an entirely different tax bracket. One that didn’t have time for video games.
“I do sometimes.” He said much to Jungkook’s surprise. “Though I’m sure I’m not as good as you.”
Jungkook shuffled his feet. “You should come over and play- when you don’t have art things to do, I mean.” He stammered out. He was suddenly aware of how long they had been standing in the hallway just chatting. Very aware that he still had groceries to put away.
“Sounds like fun!” Taehyung enthused. “But I have to be player one. I like being in control.”
“Who likes being in control?” A boy inquired, popping up behind Taehyung. He had perfectly sculpted blonde hair and full lips. The sort of boy Jungkook would have secretly fallen
in love with in high school based on his looks alone. “Hi, I’m Jimin.” He smiled when he noticed the stranger in front of Taehyung.
“This is our neighbour, Jungkook. He lives next door. He’s nice.” Taehyung introduced him before turning to Jimin. “Are you finally ready to go?” He made no effort to hide his annoyance though there was no denying the affection between them. There was something oddly domestic about the pair- a distinct lack of pretense in their exchange.
“Yup!” Jimin said, popping the last letter for effect.
Jungkook wondered if they were dating.
They stood awfully close together.
“Alright, let’s go then! I don’t want to be too fashionably late!” Taehyung gushed. “It was nice talking to you again, Jungkook!” he shot him a cheesy peace sign and a bright smile before Jimin dragged him down the corridor and down the stairs.
Jungkook didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked after walking past the open door to Jungkook’s bedroom. His roommate stood in the open archway in plaid pajama bottom with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. His silver hair was disheveled, sticking up in awkward places and curling around his ears.
From where Jungkook hung upside down he thought Namjoon looked a little more frazzled than usual. “I’m trying to get the blood circulating to my head again. It stopped working.” Jungkook replied with absolute confidence in his logic.
“What?” Namjoon’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. He sipped his tea delicately.
“My brain. It stopped working. I can’t think.” Jungkook said, face burning and ears bright red.
Namjoon stepped into the room, flicking on the light.
Jungkook cringed at the sudden brightness. His ideal state of being was complete isolation in the dark so that he couldn’t see the mess he had created in his room.
“Jesus Christ, you need to get out more.” Namjoon commented as he set aside a collection of discarded energy drinks before sitting on the edge of Jungkook’s desk. “You’re being dumb. You’re not typically this dumb. What’s going on?”
Jungkook sat up straight up in his chair, swaying slightly as he adjusted to the change in perspective. “I can’t focus on math. I just can’t. Linear algebra doesn’t make sense anymore.”
“I thought you were good at math?” He questioned and then looked around the room. “When was the last time you went outside?”
Jungkook wrinkled his nose. “Yesterday. That’s the problem.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I met one of our neighbours.” Jungkook sighed.
“And?”
Jungkook whined like a petulant child. “I love him but we’re not destined to be.”
“I see… and why is that?”
“He’s too good for me.” He sighed. “I look at him and he’s just too good. He’s smart. Too smart and too good looking and I hate him.”
Namjoon hummed. “You sound like a love struck teenager.”
“I am a love struck teenager.”
Namjoon didn’t look impressed. “Are you going to talk to him or just stare from a distance?”
Jungkook frowned. “We’ve talked before. I just… I’m dumb when I’m with him.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes. “You sound like Yoongi. Guy keeps droning on and on about some guy he’s talking to on grindr. It’s killing me…. Just do something about it before it’s too late.”
Jungkook only responded by banging his head down on his desk.
He had no idea what he was going to do.
Jungkook didn’t want to admit that he was constantly anticipating the chance to see Taehyung again. He hadn’t really wanted to admit that on weekends when he had nowhere to
be he would only leave his cavern-like bedroom/ base of operations when he heard Taehyung in the hallway.
He would bolt upright from his seat- careful not to knock over his energy drinks and turn away from the harsh glow of the computers he spent hours staring at. Sometimes he was doing his assignments. Most of the time he wasn’t.
He would snatch his wallet and struggle to put on his shoes in his haste before tumbling into the hallway.
“Oh? Good morning, Jungkook.” Taehyung smiled at his neighbour’s sudden appearance. “Any plans for the day?”
Jungkook took a moment to gather his thoughts and looks a little more composed than he felt. Because yes, it was morning. Time still passed even if you didn’t sleep through the night. The sun was a persistent little bastard that was determined to rise. And Jungkook, forever a night owl that slept through most of the afternoon in a small room with blackout curtain and overly bright dual-screen monitors.
“Not really. Just heading to the store. Ran out of milk again.” He replied.
“Again?” Taehyung asked, somewhat quizzical.
Jungkook was not the most creative individual and most of his lies, for whatever reason, always needed to revolve around buying milk. He needed some sort of reason as to why he was always in the hallway and grocery shopping for items with an expiration date seemed somewhat reasonable.
“Yeah… my roommates and I really like cereal.”
“Milk’s good. Strong bones for a growing boy.”
Jungkook tried not to look affronted. “I’m not a kid or anything.”
“I never said you were, Jungkookie.” Taehyung laughed. “I need to head to the studio to get some work done, but I’ll see you around, eh?”
Jungkook tried not to notice how his heart quickened and how hyper away he seemed in Taehyung’s presence. That his hair stood on end and he could feel his lungs contract and expand with every breath he took.
But Jungkook was smitten.
He couldn’t stop replaying their interactions in his head. Always wondering what he could have said differently. Curious as to what he could have said so he didn’t sound like such a boring idiot the next time they spoke.
He retreated back inside to the safety of his apartment and tried to focus on his assignments with little success. After several hours he had only read over the due date on his syllabus with minimal attempts to even read the assignment guidelines. He was about to actually crack open his textbook and attempt a few questions when there was a sudden knock on his door.
Jungkook waited for a moment, wondering if one of his roommates would answer the door before he remembered that he was home alone. Both Namjoon and Yoongi had ventured out with their mutual friend Hoseok- they had always been more favourable towards night-life than Jungkook was.
He left the door unanswered. Unsure as to who would bother him at such a late hour. It was probably a pizza delivery boy who had mistaken his apartment for the one across the hall yet again. It was a bi-weekly occurrence. One that was especially annoying.
After a while of pretending he wasn’t home he turned up his stereo and groaned, pulling himself away from his homework and trudged across the cold apartment floor.
Jungkook soon began rummaging through the kitchen or something appealing before remembering he hadn’t gone grocery shopping for anything other than milk in nearly two weeks. He briefly entertained the idea of running to the convenience store before he spotted a stale box of Cheerios.
It would have to do.
He scoured for a few minutes in an attempt to find a clean bowl through he quickly came-up empty handed. No one in that apartment had bothered to do dishes in weeks.
Jungkook almost had a heart attack when the front door of his apartment swung open behind him.
“Hello?” he called, turning off the music. He was only armed with a half-empty bottle of Dawn dish soap and a soggy sponge brush.
“Hi.” It was Taehyung. He smiled and waved. It felt like a special gift just for him. It was surreal. But it did little to slow the rampant beating of his heart. “Can I come in? I, uh, knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“Yeah, sure. C’mon in.”
“Sorry, this isn’t weird, is it?” Taehyung asked, head cocked to the side. He stood in the middle of Jungkook’s shabby and very messy kitchen. He was a masterpiece in skinny jeans and an over-sized graphic tee amongst unwashed pots and pans.
“Not at all.”
“I’ve just had a shitty day and I just kinda wanna see a nice face and take it easy.”
Jungkook flushed, mouth hanging open. He tried not to stare. He was cool. He could be casual.
He took a step back, tripping over his own feet only a little.
Cool. Casual.
But god damn Taehyung had his bangs tucked into a backwards baseball cap, exposing a forehead that could only be describe as heaven-sent. His cropped pants sported wide-ankles. His shirt declared that he’d “rather be a starving artist”. It looked handmade.
“Make yourself at home.” He said, gesturing to the couch. It was an uncomfortable orange sofa that had been on sale at Ikea. Above the couch hung a rainbow flag. It was the only colourful décor amongst black and white action movie posters taped to the walls.
He turned to go sit down. And Jungkook tried not to stare at his perfect ass in those damn skinny jeans.
Taehyung flopped down on the sofa in an over dramatic manner.
“Rough day?” Jungkook asked, extending him the first person Xbox controller.
He nodded, slowly in agreement as he accepted the controller. “The worst.”
He offered Taehyung a beer from the fridge. He adamantly refused. “Tell me about it?”
“I don’t want to sound whiny.” His eyebrows knit together, eyes narrowing.
Jungkook shrugged and tried not to sneak a glance at the boy beside him. But it was so hard when he was pouting and looked so impossibly cute. He couldn’t help it. “Sometimes a dude just needs to vent.” He said, casual. Calm. Just another guy. A friend. A buddy - a pal, even.
“You are such a bro, you know that? Like you are such a dude. Like, if you didn’t have a giant
pride flag hanging in your living room I would have assumed you were straight.”
“Thanks?” He didn’t really know how to respond. It was no secret that Jungkook didn’t really fit into the common typology of most queer stereotypes. Jungkook didn’t also want to point out that Yoongi had hung in the living room. It was one of the few contributions Yoongi had made in terms of interior decorating- a pride flag in the living room and a trans flag sticker on the bathroom mirror.
Yoongi wasn't as subtle as he pretended to be.
“I just mean, like, you’re…. a bro.”
“And you’re a pretentious hipster wannabe.” He countered, slightly offended though he didn’t mean to be. He had spent the better part of high school caught between various stereotypes without particularly belonging to one social group or type of character. He wasn’t stereotypically gay, but he wasn’t straight either. He had spent years trying to establish himself in his own little gay community and validate himself, while only identifying with only a few parts of colloquial gay culture.
“I hear that a lot. I’m a walking stereotype in every way. I’m your average art student. I’m your typical gay. I watch too much Rupaul, I idolize Gaga, and I have a twitter that promotes the homosexual agenda. Sue me. I am what I am.”
“You’re grumpy. What’s up?” He asked after their first match. He swallowed his last sip of beer and scrunched up his nose in distaste while he waited for the older boy to reply.
Taehyung inhaled deep. His puffed his chest, squared his shoulders and exhaled, slowly sinking into himself. It was as though he wanted to recede into the couch cushions and disappear forever.
“It’s just been such a long day. I had an art history essay due on the universality of architecture as a non-place.” Taehyung started but Jungkook was already lost. “My prof gave me some really rough critique on my last thumbnail sketch for our big midterm assignment… and everyone is better than me in almost every way possible.”
Jungkook scoffed. “I’m sure that’s not true. You’re really talented.”
“You’ve never even seen my work.” He said, flat-line.
“No… but you got into art school didn’t you?”
“Anyone can get into art school! It’s not hard. The hard part is knowing that everyone is way more talented than you. I was the best in my high school and every other student at OCAD was the best at their high school… it’s just really competitive. Everything just gets really personal when pride is so tied up into things.” He frowns. “And then my prof critiquing my work in front of everyone… it hurt. A lot.”
“That really fucking sucks, dude.”
“It’s fine. I’m done complaining now."" He said, squaring his shoulders that had previously been slouched forward. "Do you want to go do something fun? Like I enjoy gaming and all but your apartment kind of smells. It’s depressing.”
“Yeah, sorry we don’t clean as often as we should.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows, eyes wide as he looked at the mess around him. “How many of you guys live here anyways?”
“Three of us. Including me. We’ve been friends since first year so it’s chill. Yoongi was my frosh leader last year, but he never leaves his room. he might be dead- I haven't seen him in a while. Namjoon is involved in every club possible so he's always busy. He was actually my floor leader in res.” Jungkook said, but not unkindly. “I think I might be the only one who even tries to clean anything.”
“Damn. I share with just Jimin and I thought we were bad.”
“So, what do you wanna do?”
Taehyung shrugged. “Walk around until we find something interesting? I need fresh air.”
And they did just that. They wandered up and down Chinatown - stopping to look at discount phone cases and buy bubble tea. They laughed and joked, talking about how much they hated the transit system and loved the old trees that crossed over the side streets. Taehyung made them stop at every store that looked half interesting.
“How do these look on me?” Taehyung asked while trying on his third pair of sunglasses. They stood outside a small, colourfully painted shop in Kensington market. The front lawn of the re-purposed house was filled with sunglasses displays. Each table presented more and more options that were increasingly bohemian.
The shop was one of the many hipster-esque stores that comprised Kensington Market - a city block entirely made up of thrift stores and record stores and coffee shops catering to a young and progressive audience that were heavily invested in material consumerism, but looked unfavourably towards corporate enterprises.
Taehyung had been adamant that they stopped and took a look at each and every store he spotted.
Jungkook felt a little bit like Princess Ann and Joe Bradley - Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck.
Alice down the rabbit-hole.
At first Jungkook had a little trouble keeping up with the other’s energy. It rolled off of the older boy in waves, sprawling out to sweep up everything. Jungkook included. But he quickly found a confident place beside him.
“What do you think?” Taehyung inquired, glasses perched on his straight nose.
Jungkook shoved his hands in his pockets and took advantage of the opportunity to really look at Taehyung. “They look good… but I think I like the second pair more. They don’t hide your face as much.”
“I want to hide my face though. Makes me look mysterious and sexy. Like James Dean.”
Jungkook’s smile betrayed him. It was too wide. “You already do.” Jungkook said without thinking. He thought Taehyung already looked untouchable.
Taehyung raised a single eyebrow, lip between his teeth and expression unreadable behind the tinted lenses. He seemed to shake away whatever he was thinking because he quickly smiled and said, “I think I’m going to get these ones. They’re only seven dollars.”
Jungkook decided he liked spending time with Taehyung.
Jungkook might have even admitted he had a fully formed, gay crush on him. This was not to suggest that Jungkook had experienced any straight crushes in the past, but his feelings for Taehyung seemed to only dispel any notion that Jungkook’s feelings were even remotely platonic.
With Taehyung things just came easily. It was exciting and it was new. It was invigorating.
Conversations flowed with ease between them, never really beginning or ending. They carried themselves from one topic to another. Always laughing - telling ridiculous stories.
Jungkook liked the way Taehyung laughed.
The pair of them had so much to share between each other.
There was so much to know. There were childhoods to explore, school and work, friends and family. Endless topics of conversation that spiraled into each other.
And Jungkook was learning little by little.
He soon found out that Taehyung spoke to his mother in Korean when she called him over the phone - that Taehyung thought he best expressed himself in Korean because English didn’t seem poetic enough and had too many limitations.
But Jungkook didn’t care what language Taehyung communicated with because he loved the way he spoke - at first it was a little hesitant. Sentences that didn’t really fit right, words strung together in the wrong order when he got nervous or forgotten altogether.
But Jungkook liked the way the words sounded and the shapes his lips made. The way his eyes lit up, brows rising and falling with exaggerated expression. Taehyung’s hands never remained stagnant - always gesturing, elaborating in an attempt to fully convey his never-ending thought process.
He was never still.
Taehyung somehow made Toronto seem less impersonal and more organic - as though it was a living and breathing thing. And Taehyung was an integral part of it. An essential organ in the fine mechanics with which the city operated.
Taehyung breathed life into everything.
A birdsong amongst a drone of the machines.
After their day exploring the city together Jungkook began to see Taehyung often.
Jungkook’s world was never really the same after that.
When he was with Taehyung, school didn’t really seem to matter and his shitty part-time job wasn’t important. All of life’s mundane problems seemed to fade away. Tae’s world was one of smudged charcoal on light switches and sinks, mixed media designs, and silk-screen shirts. Here the only thing that mattered was filberts vs. flat brushes, yellow ochre and mustard yellow.
It was easier.
And the pair of them flowed easily between their neighbouring apartments. Jungkook was often found doing homework after a long shift in Taehyung’s bedroom - a kaleidoscopic mess of colour and patterns. There were half finished sketches discarded on the floor and storyboards pinned to the walls. There were completed pieces painted on scraps of cardboard while pristine canvases laid abandoned in the corner. His desk was overburdened by pens and paint.
The elder always seemed unfazed by the mess, quietly working on the floor in a circle of paint tubes and palettes, with a canvas balanced on his lap.
Jungkook would simply make himself a nest of pillows and sit quietly on the bed, doing his best not to disturb the art student. Neither of them would speak, but they were together in a world that had a bad habit of being unforgiving and that was enough.
When they’d finally be finished with their assignments or had given up being productive, they’d venture downtown and find some way to get into trouble. Sometimes they would wander the Eaton Centre or find new restaurants to try.
On rainy nights, when the streetlights were reflected in the pools of water that made their homes in the dips in the sidewalk and the cracks and crevices that comprised the roadside the pair would retreat inside. Huddled in Jungkook’s room, watching as the younger played video games much to Taehyung’s amusement.
“The graphics don’t look realistic.” Tae would comment as Jungkook loaded up an 8-bit indie game he had downloaded.
“They don’t have to be.” Jungkook would reply, already excited to explain the concept and plot to Taehyung. He knew the boy would love each and every one of the characters given the chance.
“Uncharted and Mass Effect looked better. But I like Dishonoured 2’s art design more, I think.” Taehyung replied and Jungkook was impressed that he had even bothered to remember the names of the games he had seen Jungkook previously played.
Sometimes Taehyung would even force Jungkook to tag along to art events. They would support Taehyung’s friends’ art openings and installations. They’d go to the art gallery frequently as well.
“We don’t like the Group of Seven.” Taehyung would tell him, “They’re praised for being the pinnacle of Canadian art but indigenous art should be getting all the limelight, right? Like, they tried to recreate the French impressionist movement but it’s just boring and ugly trees.”
Jungkook would nod along and try to understand the different art movements, but really he was focused on Taehyung and the way his face lit up when he spoke about art. He loved the way
Taehyung would direct with his hands as a way to explain different techniques.
He loved the way he would lean in closer to the paintings to see the individual brushstrokes.
He loved Taehyung.
But he didn’t really want to. He wanted to keep doing what they were doing. Hanging out, goofing off. He didn’t want anything to change. He didn’t want to make things weird. Because he always found a way to make things difficult. He had seen this play out enough times, the tragedy that stems from loving someone more than they love you. He could see how this would play out in his head.
It was almost like muscle memory. And trauma ran deep.
Besides, you didn’t get to choose what lessons you learnt in life.
“See - Jungkook, look at the blue. Rembrandt only painted peasants - which is lame - but he knew exactly what he was doing when he used blue!” He would explain, but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to stop staring at his lips and the way they formed sounds.
He could feel Taehyung’s gaze on him. Hot and burning. “What are you staring at?”
You. You. Always you.
“Nothing. I just zoned out for a minute.” Jungkook stammered.
Taehyung failed to meet Jungkook’s gaze, lips dangerously downturned. “If you’re bored we can do something else?”
“No. I’m having fun!” He assured him.
“Great! Oh my god! Jungkook I need to show you this one!” He exclaimed, taking Jungkook by the hand and pulling after him.
Jungkook never wanted him to let go.
He hated himself just a little for wanting to hold onto something that would never be.