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Jimin is used to people offering to buy him a drink. He’s handsome and young -- that’s partially why he got this job, back before he knew anything about alcohol beyond what tasted good. But he doesn’t drink on the job, so when he hears a smooth, “Can I buy you something, or should I drink alone?” he politely tells them so and continues washing glasses without a hitch.
It isn’t until he hears the answering, “Not even with an old friend?” that he looks up.
At first, all he sees is red. Fire engine red. And then he sees a smile, and long fingers swirling along the rim of a glass, and little mark on a nose, and his heart both drops into his stomach and explodes at the same time. “Taehyung?”
That grin grows impossibly wider, and Jimin suddenly feels like he’s in college again. Only this time Taehyung looks older, and Jimin feels older, more cynical and less lovesick.
And Taehyung’s hair.
“Really, Jiminie?” asks Taehyung, snorting. It sounds the same. “We haven’t seen each other in like, five years, and that’s what you say to me?”
Jimin feels his cheeks grow hot. His neck is probably pink. “I really didn’t mean to say that out loud.” But honestly. The hair.
Taehyung picks up a strand of hair off of his forehead and inspects it, but it’s a too short so he ends up looking a little cross-eyed and a lot ridiculous. “Your hair was this color.”
“Used to be, yeah.” Around the same time Taehyung had left, everyone called Jimin an apple. His hair is black now, shorter than it was in college. His clothes fit better and he might be a little sadder. But he’s happier now than he was a minute ago, watching Taehyung smile at him. “Haven’t dyed it in a while, without my hooligan friends enabling me.”
”I’m the hooligan,” Taehyung says proudly.
It’s funny, how you can see someone for the first time in years and suddenly be just as fond as you were in the beginning. “Always will be.”
Taehyung just props his chin on his fist. “You never could resist my charms.”
Jimin snorts, wiping down the glass he’s holding and setting it aside. It’s late at night and the only sound in the bar is the clinking of glass and the low hum of the seedy jukebox playing love songs no one knows the words to. “Are you gonna bat your eyelashes at me?”
“I could.” Taehyung’s done it before. “That’s a lot of muscle control for this late at night.”
“You’ve lost your touch,” says Jimin, grinning, bopping his old friend on the nose. “You were much better at picking people up in college.”
“Yeah, well.” Taehyung just shrugs. “I’m lazy. And a bit out of practice.”
It’s endearing, honestly. Jimin doesn’t even need to know where Taehyung has been since college. It’s comforting how familiar he is, even after so long. “Found the One, finally?” Taehyung had always been a cross between a romantic and a try-hard. It made him a bit of a serial dater, albeit a lovable one. Sometimes it was love, but more often is was like, and never was it lasting. He would never have stopped unless he was sure.
Taehyung’s smile softens, his whole body softens, and instead of beaming like the sun he’s more of the soft, comforting glow of the stars you spread across your ceiling. Faint and comfortable. “Yeah, I have.”
Jimin’s chest is tight. Happiness swirls in his stomach alongside the disappointment. It’s very confusing. But if there’s anything that he’s learned from Taehyung it’s to accept things as they are. “I’m so happy for you.” And he really is. He isn’t confused about that.
“Yeah,” Taehyung says dreamily, and Jimin returns to cleaning his dishes at the bar as they lull into an easy silence, nothing but the sound of muted love songs and the slow rumble of an old bar in the early hours of the morning. Tae is watching him, still dreamy, and Jimin smiles a little every time he catches him out of the corner of his eye.
It’s nice.
They knew each for so long, were so close for so long, that Jimin figures it’s natural for them to slip into something so easy. They were rambunctious in school, loud, but this quiet moment is as much them as anything.
And then Taehyung says, “Let me take you out to coffee.”
Jimin snorts. It’s not an attractive sound, but it’s not like Taehyung minds. “I thought you said you found the One.” He throws his dirty dish towel at Taehyung, and Taehyung snatches it out of the air, his face indignant.
“I did!” he insists, throwing the towel back. “And now I’m trying to ask him out for coffee.”
The face Jimin makes must be hilarious, but Taehyung doesn’t tease him, not even when the towel hits him in the chest and falls sadly into his unresponsive hands. He just looks at him, face blank and very earnest, and Jimin isn’t sure what he wants to do but he thinks he wants to dance, or sing, or maybe make a very confused, strangled noise in response.
He does none of these things. His mouth answers for him. “When?”
“Tonight,” Taehyung says without hesitation. It’s not even a question.
Jimin huffs. “You do realize it’s nearly three in the morning?”
Tae just gives Jimin a long, pointed look.
“That’s a bad time for coffee, idiot.” It’s not as sharp as it could be. Jimin’s face is still hot.
It’s a good thing there are very few customers in the bar because Jimin is being very unprofessional.
“Pft.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Pancakes, then. Three is perfect for pancakes. Waffle House is open 24/7.”
Jimin laughs. He remembers college pancake runs that bleed passed the night into the questionable line of morning. “Waffle House is shit.”
“Waffle House is the shit. What’s your damage?” In that moment, Taehyung looks so much like himself as Jimin remembers him. Like a college student who can’t pick a major and have cram studying down to a fine, well-developed art.
Jimin was a little in love with that Taehyung, years ago.
It’s quiet for a second, and Jimin is biting his lip to stop himself from smiling and failing miserably. “I get off in half an hour.”
Taehyung finishes his drink and slides the glass over to Jimin. “Waffle House it is.”
He doesn’t move from his spot at the bar for the next thirty minutes, and he sits smiling and silent as Jimin goes about his closing routine, but when Jimin clocks out and slips his coat on over his uniform, Taehyung is right there, paying his tab and walking next to Jimin out the door.
The walk to Waffle House is similarly quiet, but Taehyung keeps running into Jimin to force him off of the sidewalk and blowing out hot air so that he spews white fog like a dragon. He doesn’t specify that that’s what he’s doing but Jimin’s seen him do it a million times in the cold. His ears stick out of his hat. They’re bright pink but Taehyung doesn’t seem to care about the weather.
God, Jimin’s missed him.
He’s a lot quieter now, this Older Taehyung, or maybe it’s just because it’s late (passed that foggy line of morning) and the night has made him settle. Taehyung was always moving, a blur you could barely catch the edges of. Jimin isn’t sure where his edges are, but he thinks he could find them, now. Get a grip on him, if only to pull him a little closer.
It’s nice.
If Taehyung’s edges include surprise drop-in’s after five years of radio silence on top of shitty midnight pancakes, then Jimin really isn’t going to complain.
He slides into the booth and takes his coat off, leaving in draped over his shoulders because the Waffle House is only slightly warmer than the chill outside. The late fall lingers in the tips of his fingers. This whole thing reminds him of college. The cold, the obscenely early food runs, Taehyung. Not that college is worth remembering much, but the company was pretty incredible.
Jimin’s smiling at a picture of grits for at least a minute before he cuts back into the real world and realizes it’s still quiet.
He looks up from inspecting his menu to find Taehyung looking at him. Not quite staring, not quite glancing. “What, aren’t you gonna order your pancakes?”
“You’re beautiful.” Taehyung has never been so serious in his life.
Don’t be gross. That’s how Jimin used to response, back then, coupled with a laugh and a blush. He’s older now, and tired. It’s so late that Jimin can feel the bags under his eyes, and he smells like the bar, but he knows that Taehyung means it, and that means something. “Thank you.”
Taehyung’s face break out into a huge smile, and Jimin knows he’s remembering every comment Jimin ever sidestepped. “You’re welcome.”
Despite Jimin’s earlier comment, they both order coffee, along with two pancakes for Taehyung and an omelette for Jimin, and return to enjoying each other’s company until the food arrives.
“So, you’re a bartender now?” Taehyung asks after thanking the waiter as she places the plates in front of them.
Jimin stirs sugar into his coffee. “On the weekends. And some weeknights, if I’m free. I’m friends with the owner. Yoongi. He’s with Seokjin, actually. You remember him, from college freshman year?”
“Tall, handsome, carried a Mario backpack?” Taehyung nods.
“Yeah, him,” Jimin says, smiling fondly. Seokjin had been a sight to see even then. He’d be surprised it Taehyung had forgotten, since he’d spent an entire month drooling over a senior boy who never knew either of them existed.
Taehyung pours syrup on his pancakes. “You guys weren’t friends in college.”
“No.” Jimin remembers being mildly terrified when Yoongi had introduced his husband to him, but Seokjin hadn’t known Jimin well enough as a bumbling college baby to tease him for anything. “But I’m glad we’re friends now.”
Jimin watches as Taehyung moves to put the syrup back and narrowly avoids drenching his sleeve in coffee. “If you only bartend on the weekends, what else do you do?”
“Oh.” This time Taehyung does accidentally dip his sleeve into his coffee, and Jimin is handing him a napkin before he can even ask. “I’m a backup dancer for an idol company. I’ve started choreographing too, here and there.”
Taehyung’s surprised.“Shit.” His eyes disappear as he smiles. “That’s awesome.”
“It’s not exactly stable, but Yoongi always needs me to cover shifts, and I didn’t really want to be a dancer for the job security anyway.” Jimin is smiling into his coffee. There’s a lot of smiling happening tonight, like they both have been saving them and are making up for lost time.
Taehyung giggles, covering his mouth with his hand, like a child. Like always. The red of his hair glints in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Jimin can see his profile in the reflection off of the dark window. “Weren’t you going to be an accountant at one point? What I wouldn’t pay to see you in a suit.”
Jimin flicks his slightly used napkin at him. “My parents wish I was an accountant.” He sees Taehyung’s face fall a bit. “I mean, for the stability. They’re still supportive.” He taps his fingers nails against the ceramic of his mug. “As best as they how, at least.”
Taehyung hums in understanding. “How are they?” he asks, through a mouthful of pancake.
“Good! They like it when I go see them.” Jimin taps his toe awkwardly against the leg of the table. “They don’t like the city much.” He pauses. “What about yours? I haven’t spoken to them in forever.” He used to have them on speed dial. He probably still does.
Taehyung swallows a hasty gulp of coffee before diving into his pancakes again. Jimin is just picking at his eggs, but Taehyung is decimating his breakfast in record time. There’s syrup on his chin. It’s cute. “They’re good. They’re actually in America right now.”
“Really?” There’s a beat while Jimin processes this. “You must miss them a lot.”
“Yeah.” Jimin reaches forward with his napkin and Taehyung holds still to let him wipe his chin before continuing without a hitch. “But I call them often.”
“Mmm.” He feels warm from the coffee and maybe the company, so he takes his coat off his shoulders and undoes the top button of his shirt. He pretends not to notice Taehyung’s eyes on his collarbones. “What about you? What have you been up to?”
Taehyung looks bashful, for once. “I’m a writer.”
Jimin grins. “That’s perfect.” Taehyung had trouble with words, but he’s always had so many things to say. “What do you write?”
Taehyung tells him. Tells him about all of the places he’s been and the people he’s met and the things that he’s written and shared with people, and Jimin couldn’t be more proud. It sounds like a dream. This a right decision proven over and over again.
The coffee left in his mug is cold by the end, the omelette picked at by Jimin and then devoured by Taehyung, and Taehyung says with a quiet sigh, “I’m tired of running around, though.”
“Really?” Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like such an adventure, though.”
“Yeah. It is.” Taehyung leans back in his seat, rubbing his stomach like a child, and Jimin loves him. “I just think I want to settle down.”
Jimin laughs. “You’re not even 30.”
“I’m an old man at heart.”
He laughs harder.
Taehyung ignores him. “I accepted the job in the city, you know, and I thought ‘hey, this is perfect.’ And I found the perfect place. It’s got a decent view and low rent and the landlord loves dogs. What more can a guy want, really?”
“You always wanted a dog,” Jimin remembers. He stirs his spoon in his overly milky coffee. Taehyung had dumped three things of extra creamer in while he talked, just to do something with his hands. Jimin had let him.
“We always said we would get one.” Together.
Jimin’s smile is tight, but it’s genuine.
Taehyung presses on, somehow hesitant and forceful all at once. “I called Hoseok, you know, when I knew for sure I was coming. He told me to go to the bar if I wanted to see you.” Taehyung is pointedly not looking at him, collecting all of his trash and shoving it into the mug with his excess coffee.
“At three in the morning?” Jimin asks coyly.
Taehyung laughs brightly. “Yeah, Hoseok’s the worst.”
“I don’t think he ever forgave either of us, really.” Jimin runs a hand through his hair, remembering. It’s a good night for nostalgia. “He worked so hard to get us together and then it was just over.” He thinks of the day they both ended it. It’s a sad memory, not an angry one, despite all the feelings involved. “God, he was so bitter.”
“I think he was more bitter that we weren’t like, weird about it. We spent the day after at his house eating all of his food, like normal.” Taehyung slaps his hand over his face to control himself. He taps his lip thoughtfully with a long index finger. “I’m really glad we stayed friends.”
“Well.” Jimin kicks Taehyung’s shin softly under the table. “Next time you pick up and vanish, keep in mind that friends call friends at least once a year.”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry. He looks a bit like a dream, his hair bright against the muted browns of the diner. “I promise I won’t run off again.”
The soft “Good,” is so loaded that Jimin feels way lighter after saying it.
There is a soft silence before Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have left the first time.”
It was always going to come to this. Why else would Taehyung have shown up at his door?
Jimin frowns. “Don’t say that,” he says sharply, shaking his head. “Look at everything you’ve done! The writing and...all the traveling and the adventure. You loved every second of it, Tae, I can tell.” He could see it on Taehyung’s face as he talked. “I’m glad you left. You needed to go.”
Taehyung is shaking his head, too, his mouth a hard line. “I shouldn’t have left you.”
Jimin shrugs, swirling his straw in the ice of the water the waitress had brought with his meal. “You needed to leave. You would have been sad if I had stopped you.” He smiles. “We wouldn’t have worked out.”
”No.” Taehyung chews absently on the inside of his mouth. His pancakes are soggy on his war-torn plate. “I guess not.”
“College Jimin was a selfish boy.” Jimin rolls his eyes at the memory of an accounting major in bro-tanks and snapbacks. Simpler days. “I wouldn’t have let you go if I hadn’t thought it was important.”
Taehyung nods gently, staring at his reflection in the window. Cars pass by lazily outside. He blows on the glass and it fogs over. “I think it’s important for me to be here now.” He purses his lips childishly. “I think we couldn’t work before but maybe now we can.”
“You weren’t pining after me for five years, were you, Tae?” Jimin holds the plain white mug with both hands, like a comfort. “We only dated a few months.” Six, to be exact. The longest of any of Taehyung’s relationships at that point.
“We were friends first.”
“We were a lot of things.” Soulmates, maybe. Does that sort of this vanish with time? Diminish over a distance.
“No,” Taehyung says then. “I wasn’t pining over you for five years. I dated plenty.”
“Typical,” Jimin teases.
“Honestly.” He huffs out a laugh. “Too many to count. Artists and philosophers and…” He grins. “Accountants.”
Jimin blows him a raspberry.
Taehyung dutifully ignores him. “You were the only one I kept coming back to.”
The moment holds. The waitress comes over with their check and Jimin barely notices. “You’re such a romantic,” Jimin mutters, almost exasperated, mostly fond. “You’ve dated plenty,” he repeats. Countless men and women in college. Countless after. “What makes you think this is gonna stick?”
“I don’t know.” Taehyung licks his lips, and he might be holding his breath. “Because I want it to?”
Jimin sighs, more air than laughter. “That’s not how the universe works.”
“I’ve gotten luckier since I went away,” Taehyung insists. “The universe loves me.”
“Enough to grant you a wish?” Jimin asks jovially. In ten minutes, Taehyung will ask him to try again, and Jimin will say yes, because his heart has already decided.
“If I wish hard enough.” Taehyung is beaming. “And I do.”
“How hard?”
“I wished to see you again,” he says softly. “Here you are.”
Jimin’s heart catches in his throat. He covers his mouth with his hand, but his neck is red and flushed and he can’t quite look Taehyung in the eye. “Don’t be gross.” Flustered. Just like always.
They were so close for so long, and here they are in a shitty Waffle House passed the foggy line of morning, older and luckier and waiting for the right moment.
Taehyung takes the check and Jimin takes his hand and that’s as much of an answer as either of them needs for tonight.