Work Text:
1.
Taehyung lounges on the bed on a Wednesday evening.
The television is on as background noise to Taehyung’s fervent boredom and eighth attempt at shitting out a manuscript for his B-rated romance novel which his editor has been setting fire to his ass about for the past three weeks.
He fiddles with his new phone, newly bought just that afternoon after he ran over his last one with a lawnmower and grins, pulling up the messaging app.
Ten minutes later, a new message pings up on Taehyung’s phone and he clicks it open gleefully.
He gapes at his phone for a moment.
Taehyung turns off the lights.
2.
Their relationship hadn’t always been easy.
Jeongguk was a bit of an icy kid, all hard gazes and cold arrogance. He’d topped the class back in high school whereas Taehyung and Jimin constantly competed for second to last. By all laws of the universe, the two of them should have been the last possible combination. But, defying all logic, they ended up together anyways.
Older now, Jeongguk hasn’t shed much of his ice prince persona in front of strangers, he won’t use a sentence to say something he could say in a word, won’t say anything at all if he can get away with just nodding. In complete contrast, Taehyung can answer a yes or no question with a small novel. Jimin often endearingly called him a blundering, clumsy moron who acted like he was on a perpetual sugar high. He also, as it so happens, has a very large mouth.
“I love you despite your strangely unevenly sized balls,” he declared loudly once in a coffee chop over a slice of lemon cheesecake he’d begged Jeongguk to buy. Back then, Jeongguk, the barista and the three tables next to them had worn expressions like a strike of lighting had just reanimated Abraham Lincoln in the immediate vicinity, all edging away from him like he was going to combust at any second.
After a few years, when Taehyung screamed, “Jeongguk, I can’t live like this anymore. I’m leaving you to become a Soundcloud rapper!” in the middle of a Cotsco, he’d simply given him a dirty sideways glance.
“Sign my shirt before you leave,” he said dryly, “so I can sell it once you become internationally acclaimed. Also, leave your membership card.”
Another time, Taehyung, slightly tipsy on Seokjin’s raspberry vodka which, admittedly, was much more vodka than raspberry, grabbed the front of Jeongguk’s shirt as he was trying to wrestle his socks off him to get him into the shower and shook him.
“I’m the second male lead in Taehyung’s life!” He declared brazenly, thumping his own chest, “I love him more than you!”
Jeongguk raised his eyebrows, “you’re welcome to have him.”
At that, Taehyung froze, slightly lost. This isn’t how the script was supposed to go. Where was the grandiose fight for his love? The flowers, the slow motion camera, the back hugs?
“Um,” he floundered, “then, we’ll run away tomorrow!”
A hard press of Jeongguk’s lips against his makes his mouth snap close, a muffled noise escaping as his fingers scrabbled at Jeongguk’s chest.
“You can try,” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes dangerously, “it’s a mistake to give me a night though. I guarantee he won’t be able to make it out of bed tomorrow morning.”
“Jesus,” Taehyung spluttered, shocked sober, “gonna have to stop you right there, Mr Jeon. This is a respectable family establishment, let’s keep it PG-13!”
Spoiler: they didn’t.
3.
Back when they were still in school, Taehyung and Jimin had both been obsessed with Agust D, a rapper with bleached blonde hair and sly half smile. Jimin had called him a ‘silver haired fox’, to the chagrin and infinite embarrassment of pretty much everyone who knew him.
On the first day of their final year, Jimin had pulled out his notebook with a flourish and the entire class, neigh, the entire country fell into a rare, stunned silence as he proudly held up the cover.
“W-what?” Taehyung choked on his own spit, their teacher’s mouth had been so wide they could fit the entire pack of chalk and the duster into it. Even thousand year stone faced Jeongguk had on a slightly terrified expression.
Jimin looked at his notebook with a dreamy sigh, “isn’t he gorgeous?”
4.
During their wedding, Jeongguk had gotten drunk for the first and last time in his life.
He could hold his alcohol well, but they went around doing shots of respect with every guest that had attended, which, given that Jeongguk seemed to be related to half of Asia and Taehyung’s friends could fill up a large swimming pool, was well into the hundreds.
Jeongguk had held onto Taehyung’s hand tightly the entire night, reluctantly letting go only when Taehyung threw the bouquet (it had been caught by a screaming Seokjin, who triumphantly shoved the flowers at a dumbstruck Namjoon- the next summer, it would be their wedding that Taehyung and Jeongguk attends).
“Are you trying to compress my hand into a meatball?” Taehyung had laughed, straightening Jeongguk’s bowtie for maybe the tenth time that night, “don’t worry, I’m not going to run.”
He’d thought that maybe Jeongguk had taken it seriously when Jimin clutched at both his hands right before the wedding and told him with a straight face that if Taehyung had cold feet then he would go and buy him running shoes. Jeongguk, who’d been standing nearby putting on his jacket, sent him the hardest look Taehyung had ever seen.
Then, Taehyung grinned, “unless Agust D storms in and asks me to during the objections.”
Later that night, during Jeongguk’s speech (at which point he was already roaringly smashed and swaying on his feet) he destroyed all his dignity and carefully constructed arrogance in a matter of seconds by giggling into the microphone and saying, “I would first like to thank J-Hope for taking Agust-D off the market in 2016. You guys have a long and happy marriage, please!”
5.
Jimin’s last breakup was with a Chinese dude in a middle of a Target parking lot.
It was over scones or something equally ridiculous. No matter the reason, he called Taehyung at nine pm right after he’d gotten off the plane from a book conference in New York and he’d hauled ass over to the bar, luggage in tow.
“I think I have an issue,” he lamented, “on average it takes me three months to fall in love with someone, and then another three to realise they’re a complete moron.”
Taehyung laughed into his rum and coke, “that’s why I married Jeongguk at the first opportunity. I was worried after a few more months he’d realiseI was a complete moron and dump my ass.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, “shut up. I can’t believe you got married before me. We were supposed to have a joint spring wedding to Agust D!”
At that, Taehyung grinned, “doesn’t matter! We can focus on earning money now, and then we can become his sugar daddies!”
Jimin slapped him around the back of the head, “by the time the two of us earn enough money to be anyone’s sugar daddies, Agust D’s grandchildren would probably no longer be alive.”
When he got home that night, he flopped on top of Jeongguk with loose limbs.
“Jeongguk! Fire of my loins! You’re so perfect and I’m a fuckwit. Why’d you marry me?” He mumbled into his shoulder.
Jeongguk’s glare could crumple mountains, “fairly sure you would’ve accidentally set yourself and or someone else on fire by now if you didn’t marry me. I’m just removing a public hazard.”
Taehyung thought about this for a moment, “makes sense,” he nodded decisively, and then passed out cold.
6.
After high school, Jeongguk and Taehyung went to the same university, no questions about it, they didn’t even really talk about it beforehand, it was a given.
They saw each other less though, with Taehyung going into literacy and Jeongguk majoring in business. For general education, Jeongguk picked photography and finally put the shitty camera Taehyung had bought him for his sixteenth birthday to use.
Years after graduation, when both had first started their jobs, pressure from work and long hours made it so that neither saw each other very much, their apartments were about a forty five minute drive away, and in the weekends both were too tried to go out. Taehyung called Jeongguk five, six months in and met him in a diner close to the beach.
“Let’s break up,” he’d said over the oily stains on the table and a mouthful of beef and lettuce.
Jeongguk hadn’t said anything, just nodded, put on his suit jacket, and left.
Two weeks later, he got a call from Namjoon who had been Jeongguk’s old RA, back then, Namjoon had been going through an existential phase and fancied himself half a poet. Dramatically, he tells Taehyung that he’d mailed him a package (despite the fact that he could’ve just dropped it off at his office, which was a ten minute walk away from his house).
It was an USB, and Taehyung forgot about it for a while until he was cleaning his house and found it crammed between his old stack of textbooks he’d never gotten around to selling.
On it, was a single file named ‘Taehyung’. His mouse hovered over the icon for a moment as he debated whether or not to look at it, he and Jeongguk had already broken up, it wasn’t any of his business anymore. In the end, curiosity won out.
He clicked it open.
At eight pm on a Monday, dressed in his work shirt and a pair of Jeongguk’s old sweatpants, Taehyung dropped onto the floor and and burst into tears. Within two days, they were back together.
7.
Last winter, as he’d been buying skewers in a roadside stall after work, he’d run into his old classmate.
“Kim Taehyung?” She’d wasted no time, immediately enveloping him into a bear hug. Lee Eun had been a sweet girl, all ribbons and pastel stationary back in school. After so many years, she’d lost the skirts and hair clips in favour of sleek suit pants and an important looking coat, “it really is you!”
He’d waved, a little awkward with the skewers in hand, “hey! You been doing well?”
She’d gone in for another hug, laughing a little, “I guess you could say that. Hey, there’s a class reunion happening next Tuesday, it’s also Seojoon’s birthday that day, so we’re celebrating it together. You should come!”
They exchanged phone numbers, and with a promise to text him the time and address, Lee Eun said goodbye with one last hug.
Truth be told, he’d forgotten about it for a few days until the text comes in the middle of Shrek 2, which Jeongguk always watched with more concentration than he’d like to show.
“Hey,” he nudged him slightly, “our old high school class is celebrating Seojoon’s birthday Tuesday. Wanna go?”
Jeongguk didn’t even think about it, “no.”
“Okay,” Taehyung nodded, already texting Eun back before Jeongguk spoke again.
“Is this the Seojoon who sat two rows in front of us and wore glasses?” He raised both eyebrows.
Taehyung blinked rapidly, how in the fuck did Jeongguk remember where this dude sat? Taehyung could barely remember what he had for breakfast.
“I think?”
Jeongguk nods once, sharp and determined, “I’ll go.”
It wasn’t until they arrived and Eun pulled him aside to hiss, “you got married to Jeongguk? Dude, if I’d known I wouldn’t have asked you to come,” that he realises why Jeongguk had changed his mind.
“What?” Taehyung had still been reeling from the way Jeongguk stepped in front of him abruptly to receive Seojoon’s welcome hug just minutes prior, “why? This a singles only establishment?”
“No,” Eun huffed, “don’t you remember? Seojoon liked you back in high school, he slipped a love letter into your locker and Jeongguk caught him, they had a huge fight in the hallways because of it.”
Taehyung gaped at her disbelievingly, not sure if Jeongguk was capable of fighting, or rather, if anyone was capable of fighting Jeongguk. More often than not, one sentence from Jeongguk was enough to make you shut the hell up and contemplate your existence for a week.
When they got home, Taehyung pressed Jeongguk up against the wall with a lascivious grin, raising a single, seductive eyebrow that probably made him look like he’d come out of the womb constipated.
“Heard you once fought Seojoon in my honour,” he hooked a finger under Jeongguk’s chin.
Jeongguk fixed him with a cold, haughty look, “your grades were at an all-time low. I told him not to distract you from your studies.”
What? Taehyung took a step back, “really, that’s it?” Jeongguk didn’t miss the disappointment that had crept into his voice, lips quirking up a half bemused, half incredulous smile.
It took a second before Taehyung perked up again, “never mind! Next time okay?” He made for the kitchen to boil them some water but found himself being tugged back, positions reversed as Jeongguk crowded him against the wall.
“I want you to think carefully about you just said, Taehyung,” he murmured, “you’re already married to me, there really,reallywon’t be a next time.”
Immediate disbelief, complete destruction of any will to live; out of the millions of people alive, why did Taehyung get married to this massive bag of dicks?
8.
Taehyung and Jeongguk have been together for almost eight years now, friends for fifteen, in that time, there hasn’t been any shortage of arguments.
Generally, they’re over trivial things like which level to put the cereal (Taehyung thinks the top shelf is inefficient for daily use, Jeongguk’s afraid the dog can get to the second shelf), but there’s been more serious ones as well.
Back when they had been dating, Taehyung took Jeongguk to a work function. He’d been relatively new there, so he’d been running around trying to make a good impression the entire night, offering to grab drinks, laughing even when the jokes crept dangerously into the mean territory. Jeongguk had grown tenser and tenser by his side, by the end of the night, he looked ready to fight a zoo of angry baboons.
That had resulted in the biggest argument they’ve ever had to date. With Jeongguk sitting in the car in silence for maybe ten minutes before the anger boiled over and he exploded.
“Why did you just stand there and smile?” He yelled, “don’t just bear it, Taehyung, you’re allowed to feel upset, you’re allowed to be immature and petulant and hurt!” Then, quieter, “I don’t want to see you be brave, Taehyung. Not like that. I just want you to be happy.”
It was then that Taehyung realised for the first time that while everyone else is complimenting your maturity and kindness, only those that love you will feel the same hurt that you do.
9.
Jeongguk is a notoriously shitty texter, according to everyone else. Taehyung knows he’s not fond of emojis and upholds a vigorous capitalisation, punctuation regime, but he doesn’t think he’s terrible, that is, until all their friends send him screenshots.
Then, from Seokjin.
Okay, yeah. Shitty texter.
10.
The first time he went out of the city for work, Jeongguk managed to hold off calling him until day two.
That night, he got a text asking if he’d gotten back to the hotel, and when he gave the affirmative, his phone started blaring Girl’s Generation at full volume.
“Baby,” he deliberately put on a sugary, saccharine voice, “did you miss me?”
There was silence over the line for a few, long seconds, and Taehyung almost gave up the charade to assure him he’d be back before he knew it until Jeongguk spoke up again.
“Yes,” his voice had been the quietest, most open Taehyung had ever heard. Hearing it felt like his heart had been emptied out all over the room.
“Guk,” he’d felt a little helpless in that moment, not use to not being within arm’s reach of Jeongguk in the rare instances when he was upset.
“Come home soon.” Jeongguk had said simply at the end of the call.
They’d never been particularly good at saying ‘I love you’, but, Taehyung supposes, you don’t really need to when every time you look its already staring so blatantly back at you.
11.
Jeongguk comes home from his trip in the middle of the night, smiling at Taehyung’s sleeping figure sprawled out in the middle of the bed.
He slides in next to him, pulling the blanket more securely up to his chin and turns onto his side to block Taehyung from the light of his phone screen as he checks it for anything work related.
There’s nothing except a string of messages in the huge group chat composed of everyone Taehyung knew, and then everyone who knows anyone Taehyung knew. Someone had sent a question in it.
How is the person you loved in high school doing?
A couple of people had already responded.
Married, her kid goes to the same primary school as mine.
Haha, in jail. He had a gambling addiction.
Saw him last summer at his wedding, still handsome as ever, guess some things just aren’t meant to be?
The next morning, Taehyung wakes up to one more message.
Married to me. He’s next to me in bed, asleep.
12.
At their wedding, the MC had turned to Taehyung at the end of the night and asked “anything else you want to say to Jeongguk?”
Taehyung had thought about it, he had so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Jeongguk how ugly his green couch was, how it was strange that he liked to dip his French fries in ice cream, that he thought it was weirdly hot that time Jeongguk dyed his hair a horrendous shade of puke orange in university.
He wanted to say, then and now, that he knew how lucky he was, to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
But the guests had started to tire, some slumped over champagne glasses and leftover cake, others singing along to the slow ballad in slurred breaths, so Taehyung shook his head.
“Not right now,” he said.
After all, they had a long time to say all the things they wanted to say.