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It’s been five years.
Five years of sorrow, five years of despair, five years of worthlessness.
Taehyung was content with blissfully shunning this reality.
He was content with turning a blind eye and plastering a smile on all his problems. He was content putting minimal effort in each day; content clicking at his keyboard at his nine to five job to evade the externalities of his life.
So when Taehyung drags himself to the line in front of the coffee shop, he’s not frank to admit that the sight that greets him stuns him back into existence.
Him. Him, just as he remembers, but taller. Just as he remembers, but confident. Just as he remembers, but stronger.
The memories flood Taehyung’s mind. He suddenly remembers when he was happy; laugher roaring around the room like the sound of lions when it only occupied him and Jeongguk. He remembers how Jeonguuk’s eyes squinted to crescents but still shimmered with glee as he clapped his hands on his knees. He suddenly remembers when he felt beautiful; rising to the sunshine with messy hair and swollen eyes, yet still being pulled into a kiss with his morning breath. He suddenly remembers when he was powerful, but only with Jeongguk by his side.
He’s really grown, Taehyung thinks. He wonders if he still drinks lemon tea in the mornings. Or if he still only buys white socks. Or if his signature order is still a cinnamon bagel with grape jam and butter.
He wonders what Jeongguk is doing now. If he’s finishing up school, if he still has his pet turtle, if he’s happy. And all Taehyung ever will do is wonder; as he could never bring himself to face Jeongguk again.
So he stands.
He watches paralyzed as Jeongguk snakes his arm around another boy’s waist, pulling him into his side to place a kiss on the top of his head. He watches as the boy turns to flash his teeth at Jeongguk, and he watches as they share a kiss on the lips.
Taehyung feels his shoulders shiver as the memories of Jeongguk’s warmth invade his mind; the way he would tug Taehyung in just the same, and the way Taehyung would feel Jeongguk’s soft mouth against his temple. Taehyung shivers as the memories of being Jeongguk’s boy invade his mind. A sad smile grows on Taehyung’s face, realizing a memory is all it will ever be.
And in an instant, Jeongguk had swung around and his eyes had Taehyung’s. In reality it was only seconds, but to Taehyung it held the weight of all those empty years.
Jeongguk smiled. He smiled the same way Taehyung remembers it; tender and sincere, close lipped and soft eyes. If Taehyung could still read his gazes as well as he used to, he would know it meant “it’s okay.”
So Taehyung smiled too.
And when he heard the door chime and felt the cold air against his back, Taehyung wiped his cheek dry. Jeongguk had forgiven Taehyung, but Taehyung could never forgive himself.
“I’m glad you're happy.”
jer·e·mi·ad
NOUN
prolonged, mournful lamentation.