Chapter Text
When Jeongguk was a child, he had thought poetry was all old men with beards who sat on bridges over streams and sighed melancholically about lovers long lost. He was one of the children with energy thumping through their veins and the constant need to move, to play. He couldn’t understand these people who seemed to spend all their time pining and pondering; the little sandbox in his preschool, the kiddie pool in their neighbourhood- they called to him far more strongly than any beautiful trees or flowers his mother tried to get him to appreciate fruitlessly.
It isn’t until he is twenty, sitting alone on a bench on campus with a melting banana popsicle leaving sticky trails on his fingers- not nearly as enticing as it sounds- that he meets a boy who is like poetry in a person. The summer humidity of soon to come rain has his three day old shirt clinging to his body and Jeongguk, with his rumpled sweaty clothing, looks every bit the typical college boy with nothing to prove, and no one to prove it to.
The boy in front of him, on the other hand, looks like he belongs on the other side of the campus. With those people who drink white rum instead of cheap beer and whose textbooks are patterned with fancy European names that always taste just a little alien on Jeongguk’s tongue, even though his lack of Korean-ness was a constant disappointment to his parents. He is dressed in shades of burgundy and brown that make him look like the the most bittersweet days of autumn. He is beautiful, distant; all he could see was the boy’s back but Jeongguk knew that no matter how his face was arranged, it would be one he wouldn’t forget.
Jeongguk had a soft heart, for someone who tangled with a sport that was born out of choreographed violence. His friends teased him for how easily he was distracted and admittedly, he might have been tossed into attraction by one too many perfect strangers but those were the best kind. Temporary, beautiful, like most things in the world.
The boy turns around then- revealing a face that is a beautiful tan, features that look like someone had picked out their most favorite beautiful things and sculpted them into a person. Jeongguk might have been embarrassed if not for the gentle smile that broke on the boy’s face; a raised eyebrow is the only soft admonishment and it is teasing enough that his breath catches, though his cheeks feel a little warm.
He moves closer to Jeongguk’s bench, messily decorated with the popsicle that had fallen onto the ground at some point and the emptied bag of chips he had finished up and instead of feeling any kind of intimidation, he just wonders is that actually a mole on his nose or a trick of the light? Do his eyes look that exquisitely imperfect up close too? And-
Oh. The boy smells like autumn, too. “Hi.”
His voice is deep like it holds a multitude of secrets but the boy is still daring enough with them to be the first to speak. The air is completely silent, like it is waiting for something; anticipating something, too. “I’m Taehyung. I saw you watching me.”
“I-” Jeongguk’s cheeks flush a darker color and it has nothing to do with the humidity and everything to do with being caught and so openly called out. “I’m sorry.”
The boy laughs, deep and warm. “Don’t be. I was watching you too, you know. I saw you eating a banana flavored popsicle and my friends always tease me for liking those and I was curious about the only other person I’ve seen who likes them too.”
Jeongguk calls out to whatever possible deity up there that granted him tastebuds that held banana as the holy grail and then, feeling a little more confident, he looks down at the puddle of former popsicle on the grass below them with a slight pout that Jimin has assured him is winning. Taehyung follows his eyes and with a wide grin quite dramatically laments the popsicle’s loss. Then he offers him a hand, crumpled up change and an invitation to share a popsicle. Jeongguk takes all three.
It is only halfway across the park that the convenience store is on the other side of that Jeongguk remembers to introduce himself. He interrupts Taehyung’s telling him about his digital art major with a sudden, “Jeongguk! I’m Jeongguk.”
Taehyung gives him another one of those smiles that has his body feeling warm again and he doesn’t even mind even though he’s sweating through his white tshirt. The boy’s hand is warm and soft against his and oh- he hadn’t even noticed that they hadn’t let go since he had helped him off the bench. When Taehyung notices where his eyes have wandered, his widen slightly and he looks truly bashful for the first time since they had met.
“Shit, sorry-” he moves to pull his hand away, words catching on his tongue, “I didn’t realise-”
“I don’t mind,” Jeongguk interrupts boldly, before realising that he’s making assumptions and adds, “I mean, if you’re okay with it. It’s not-” Taehyung looks at him with a smile, happy and sweet, and doesn’t move away again. Their hands stay together and it feels like the gentlest Jeongguk’s hands, trained and perfected for boxing, have been in a long time.
They get a two for one pack of banana popsicles and talk about many things without saying much, and Jeongguk realises that this boy is far more than just a distant perfect stranger he has nothing in common with. He does belong with the artsy students he had typecasted him into but they listen to similar music, watch the same admittedly terrible movies and have a penchant for anime and eating food at three in the morning.
“This is like-” Jeongguk says suddenly an hour later when they gave up on standing and lay back on the grass together, “Super weird, right? Like… really fucking weird?” He can’t call himself socially awkward but he is the kind of person who likes his small group of friends and quiet nights alone. He knows that to many, especially those who work with delicate things and fine arts in their college, he likely looks like a a slightly intimidating sports major (although he actually studies photography) who exists in a separate world from theirs. This was certainly the first time he had felt so comfortable around someone who is, essentially, a complete stranger.
Taehyung looks up at his words, moving his hands away from his mouth where he was chewing his nails. “Yeah,” he agrees, “It’s pretty weird. But I’m telling myself no person who likes banana popsicles can be a creep and I’m having a good time. I don’t mind it being weird.”
Jeongguk gives him what can only be characterised as a soft smile and an indulgent same. Then he turns his head back up to look at the sky and realises- oh shit- that eventual rain is no longer eventual and the sky is a dark, angry grey that looks like it’s going to split apart at a moment’s notice.
He sits up quickly, because he’s got a fight in a week and he cannot get sick because Jin will literally kill him and he looks at Taehyung laying next to him with regret. He longs to talk to him for more time, to know more about this man and the way his words somehow make things feel big and important and beautiful. He knows it’s too soon to ask the boy back to his room, though he wishes he could. Soon, he tells himself, Do this right, Jeon Jeongguk.
“I’ve got a match soon and- I’ve got to stay out of the rain. I’m sorry.” He runs his hand through his hair somewhat nervously. “But… I had a lot of fun. Can we… meet again?”
Taehyung reaches up with both arms, crossed over and lets himself be helped up. When he stands, he’s suddenly so close that Jeongguk can barely breathe and they look at each other for a long moment until a drop of rain comes and plops its way right onto his eyelid and makes him blink wildly to brush it away.
The older man giggles and dusts it away with a burgundy colored sweater paw. Then he takes out a pen topped with a little charm on top and writes down his number of Jeongguk’s palm (slightly sweaty with nervousness, which he kindly ignores.) Then, right before they part ways, Taehyung lifts their joined hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to Jeongguk’s.
With one last grin, slightly goofy, he turns around and leaves. Jeongguk stands there watching him walk away with a goofy grin of his own until the rain catches him out anyway.
-
That little hand kiss becomes their thing. The next time they meet, it’s at the little Chinese restaurant three blocks from their campus that gives them student discounts. (The old man who ran the store eyes Jeongguk’s old and admittedly very different looking student ID picture with suspicion but ultimately gives in.)
They shared a plate of greasy, delicious noodles with Taehyung quite happily comparing them to the scene for Lady and Tramp, although they are young men who are decidedly hungrier than two medium sized dogs and end up another plate and a giant lobster to go with it.
There comes a moment in the night, sometime after they migrate closer together in the booth until the heat of the restaurant mingles with the rush of contact to have them flushed, slightly breathless and quietly talking. Jeongguk tries splitting open a particularly tough lobster claw and nicks his palm a little, just enough to make the skin red and angry.
When they walk back to the park where their paths diverge to their respective dorms that night, late enough that the night’s grown a little chilly, Taehyung kisses the slightly sore spot on his hand. Soft enough that Jeongguk reaches for his face and tips his chin up and kisses him, really, for the first time.
Taehyung kisses his hand on their third date, too, when they go to Jeongguk’s apartment for the first time. Although the older man reports the multitude of jokes that Hoseoks, his brother, had made about sex on the third date, they spend the whole night binge watching the Avengers movies and eating greasy popcorn.
The movies are forgotten halfway through Civil War, when Jeongguk falls asleep on the older man’s shoulder because in all honesty, he had had hours of practice that day and the only reason he had said yes to meeting was because it’s Taehyung. Right before he practically passes out, he feels the sudden warmth of him being tucked into his blanket and a kiss to his open palm. Taehyung kissed him the next morning too, and a lot after that.
After they have sex for the first time, all sweaty and flushed and slightly dopey off of each other, Taehyung kisses his hand after Jeongguk cleans them up and brings the older boy chocolate to eat. He kisses him the first time they meet each other’s friends, aided by alcohol to merge into a big group of seven for all time. He kisses him on his first pro match, first on his busted lip and then later, at night, when Jeongguk cries because he’s so happy and his biggest dream had finally, after years of training, been breathed into life.
After that first meeting, they’re by each other’s sides for every big moment of their lives. Taehyung’s graduation that comes a few months later, moving into their first flat together with a big ugly yellow couch that Jeongguk inexplicably loves. Years pass and they move through life with slightly dizzying speed, always together.
(There is one single weekend when they fight over something foolish- likely Taehyung overworking himself to meet his deadlines- and don’t speak. It takes only two days of radio silence before they run back to each other because being apart makes them realise that that’s a lot harder than struggling together.)
Jeongguk finds an unprecedented amount of attention in Lightweight Boxing; soon he’s got cameras all over the world trained to him and at first they struggle with it a little bit. He knows Taehyung, who gets anxious with too much attention on him, doesn’t like the way their lives are publicised. Doesn’t feel comfortable when the entire sports media erases his name and just calls him Jeon Jeongguk’s husband instead of anyone talking about his work as an editor for a massive fashion magazine but they make it work.
They learn to live with the flashing lights following them places, with their names propping up thousands of search results and the way it feels to face backlash at being an openly gay boxer with a fashion editor as a partner. It scares Jeongguk at first but with time, he finds confidence. His favorite memory- a small thing that felt like it brought the biggest change in him- is that one all nighter they pull when Taehyung helps bleach his hair and dye it a soft pink. The next fight, the world media goes into a frenzy over his hair, both positive and negative, but it is pure liberation he feels. Jeongguk is always vocal after that; becoming a somewhat hesitant spokesman for LGBTQ+ rights in sports and always making it clear that while he can be criticised, Taehyung is off limits.
And somehow, they make that life their own. Jeongguk has titles, groupies and certain moves trademarked in his name. Taehyung becomes the Chief Editor of Vogue and they have an exciting, hidden away marriage on an Italian beach with just a handful of their friends and family there, with Namjoon officiating after a drunken certification online. At every single one of his fights, Taehyung is there in the stands, cheering the loudest and after, he always kisses a- usually undefeated- Jeongguk’s hand with just as much love as the first time.
-
All sports place a time limit over your head, and over your body. Jeongguk knows this, had always known it since he had made the decision to dedicate his life to it. But it still hurts when the time comes to take the step back; especially since he knows he could have had more time if only he hadn’t been injured, badly, by a cheating opponent.
It’s in the finals of the World Lightweight Championship that his long standing rival, Marta does what can only be justified with him losing his mind and attacks him before the fight begins with no provocation. Taehyung is there, screaming and fighting the man off even as Jeongguk tries to get him to calm down and make sure the sick bastard doesn’t touch his husband. All with his arm twisted all wrong and the cold, heavy knowledge that this is bad, very bad.
Taehyung kisses his hand then too, the broken one that proves that small things can change your life forever. The title is automatically forfeited to him that year but that attack signals the end of his career. No amount of courtesy money that Yoongi fiercely sues Marta for in court can fill what he takes from Jeongguk that night.
After that, a previously undefeated Jeon “Lionheart” Jeongguk is suddenly losing fights and falling, lower and lower, on the rungs he had previously ruled over. His injury isn’t bad but it is crippling; far from a clean break and the shattered bone is damning. Taehyung still comes to his matches but there’s dread in his eyes while watching him leave that was never there before. When he returns, the older man always tends to his injuries with a terrified sort of urgency and forfeits the gentle, proud hand kisses.
That’s how Jeongguk knows it’s over. When Taehyung, his number one supporter, most fervent believer, begins fearing for him.
They fight about it a lot. More than they ever have; it’s too bitter a pill to swallow and Jeongguk has always been a stubborn person. It’s only one night after Jeongguk nearly faces damage to his back that the two of them return from the hospital in chilling silence. The two of them are many things but tense around each other is not one of them. Jeongguk avoids the silence like it’s a physical thing until he can’t anymore; when he climbs into bed and it takes over an hour for Tae to join him. When he finally does, his husband barely even looks at him.
“Seriously, Tae?” he snaps, irritable after the borderline fight he had had, “Are we ignoring each other like five year olds now?”
The man looks up at him sharply, something angry glinting in his eyes in a way it rarely does. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all these months, Guk? I’m only taking a page out of your book.”
“I haven’t been-” he lets out a frustrated breath, “Your solution is quitting, Taehyung. I’m not a fucking quitter.”
“No, no you aren’t. You’re just a fricking idiot.” Usually, Taehyung’s refusal to curse harshly is something that is endearing but everything just feels irritating and soon Jeongguk is yelling things he doesn’t mean and his husband is shouting right back. It’s loud and angry but the atmosphere breaks when he demands it’s my body, what the fuck is your problem!
Taehyung’s face crumples then and he clenches his arm around his middle like he’s been physically hit. Just the sight of it is heartbreaking. “Don’t you dare, Jeon Jeongguk. Don’t you dare marry me and love me and hold me for a decade and then say you aren’t my problem. Every hit someone gets on you feels like they’re punching a hole through me too, you little shit.”
“Tae,” his voice is softer, still rough with how he was shouting, “I-”
“I know you love boxing and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you’re losing that. You don’t deserve it, baby, but this isn’t how you can hold onto it. Your body is giving up and I can’t-“ Taehyung’s voice breaks, “Can’t sit back and watch you do this to yourself. I love every part of you and your body and it’s killing me to sit in the stands and see you suffer this way.”
Jeongguk reaches out enough to hold them together and he sees the way his lover’s eyes are glassy. He feels his own chest start to tighten because he knows, he knows this reality but it’s so difficult to accept.
“I just- this is my whole life. I know there’s other things; there’s photography, there’s you but there’s always been boxing, Tae. Always. How do I let it go?”
Taehyung’s hands come up to cup his face, eyes gentle and its almost like they weren’t up in arms against each other just moments ago. “Just like you let go of anything. It’s going to be hard but I’ll be right here. You can take some time, baby, but I just need you to try. Let go one day at a time, or all at once. It won’t get easier Gukkie, but there’s so much you’ve yet to do.”
His eyes sting but Jeongguk musters some of that strengh from years of training and hoists Taehyung up into his arms, legs wrapping around his hips on instinct. “Can we finally get us a baby then? I’ve seen you playing with the neighbourhood kids recently; you aren’t subtle, angel.”
Taehyung giggles, deep in his chest, and kisses first his nose, then his cheek. “A baby is on the to-do list.” Then he hugs him fiercely, even closer though they had already been pressed together. “I love you so much,” he whispers and he’s still warmth and autumn after all these years.
Jeongguk just holds him close and tells himself that this- this man, and his future, their future together- is worth it all.
-
He calls a press conference a week later and it's slightly anti-climactic in all honesty. Everyone in the boxing world had known such an announcement would be coming soon and some part of Jeongguk had known, too. That acceptance makes it easier that morning, to walk out before a crowd of reporters and fellow boxers, put his mouth to a mic and announce the end of his active boxing career.
Though he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, he attempts to offer one anyway. He knows his fans will want one, and there are other boxers there- both friends and foes- who look expectant, too.
“- it isn’t an easy decision,” he concludes, throat tighter than he would like to admit and he looks to his side to where Taehyung is standing there, face proud, to steel himself, “But I believe it’s the right one for me and my family. Boxing has given me a beautiful life but my beautiful husband, friends and family need me to stick around. Maybe it’s time for me to take up my old camera again. I’m not sure what the future will hold but I’m excited for it and I hope you all will be happy for me, too.”
He steps off the podium to deafening applause, feeling like yes, you did good and then instantly twining his hands with Tae’s once they meet. They’ve never really been ones for public affection- in all these years, the paparazzi’s only ever grabbed blurry candids of their moments- but in that moment the older man wraps his hands around Jeongguk’s neck and kisses him. Hard and thorough and so good. There’s quite something to be said for positive reinforcement because suddenly everything feels easier and nicer, his heart is steady and his mind is distracted and-
Never turn your back on an opponent. It’s one of the first things he had learnt as a young trainee because an unseen enemy is the deadliest one.
“Hey, Kim Taehyung!” The voice is sickeningly familiar and not wanting to believe it, the two of them separate and Jeongguk sees him. Marta. The person responsible for the speech he had given that day. The person who was banned, legally, from being anywhere near the two of them. His muscles clench up at the mere sight of him and his stupid, smug face.
Jeongguk’s guards instantly flock the other man, gripping his forearms but his mouth is still working and he yells out Taehyung’s name again. “You fucking fag! Freaks! Creatures like you deserve to die!”
Anger brims over because Jeongguk’s never been one to contain his anger and he feels it now, rage pure and simple. For what this man had done to him. For daring to say Taehyung’s name with his dirty mouth. He hears his husband next to him saying hey Jeongguk, hey baby, just ignore him, okay? Just ignore him; he hears but he doesn’t listen and Jeongguk’s just about to yell something back when everything goes to shit.
It’s loud and completely silent all at once. When Jeongguk was younger, he had believed the older kids on the playground who told him the world was doomed to end in the year 2012. They all had different theories on how the world would collapse in on itself. Some of them told him it would be fire, some suggested water. Others thought it would be a giant earthquake; nature punishing them all.
But as he hears the sickening, wet sound of a bullet hitting flesh and Taehyung falls to the ground beside him, he realises they had all been wrong. Jeongguk’s world collapses not because of fire, or water, or the earth but a single gunshot, piercing through the air and finding its mark in the love of his life.