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This place has always felt haunted, but now the eery spirits are of the memories that Jeongguk has left here.
The soundless tears, cracks of heartbreak, and unkept promises.
“You should’ve showed me this place before, Jeongguk-ah,” Taehyung shakes his head, brown, still damaged hair falling into his eyes.
Taehyung is incredibly bold. He makes promises he can’t keep, says confessions that he doesn’t quite mean, and makes Jeongguk feel like there could’ve been something that never could be.
Like now, because they don’t have endless amounts of time anymore. It’s been three years since Bangtan decided to go their separate ways, and this is the first time Jeongguk’s seen Taehyung after it all.
They can’t saunter up to rivers anymore just to look at the stars.
“But you were always so busy, Hyung.”
Taehyung is nice, but he’s insensitive. Or Jeongguk’s just a fool in love.
There’s something that being unable to move on even after three years says, and it says that Taehyung has grips on Jeongguk’s heart like no one else does. He showed him kindness and affection before anyone else did.
Maybe that’s why Jeongguk can’t find it in himself to be cruel to Taehyung, to tell him that he’s been the cause of his uncharacteristic mourning. Because Taehyung taught him to be gentle to everything, and so Jeongguk doesn’t even curse in the music he now makes, because he’s gentle with the words.
Gentle like, ‘I’m in love with a boy who will never love me back.’
“I’m never busy if it’s to spend time with you.”
“Is that’s why you haven’t found a day in the past three years to meet me?”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but it makes Taehyung stutter, unable to respond.
Because, really, all seven of them knew how peevish the two of them had become in the end. The anger, the ignorance, the lies.
Surely Taehyung knew how Jeongguk would’ve given him the world if he asked for it. Yet, he acted clueless.
“I missed your voice,” Taehyung chooses to say. It would be an odd thing to say if things between them weren’t as they are. It is an odd thing to say because Jeongguk still makes music, and Taehyung must listen to it.
He has to.
“You could’ve called, then.”
The river is calm and flows like a lullaby. Jeongguk wants to fall asleep here as he used to when he was a teenager. When his only problems were the phantoms of his insecurities that used to cling to him.
Jeongguk isn’t insecure anymore, nor does he have any worries.
He’s just unloved.
“I’m sorry, Jeongguk-ah. You know how it is.”
I do know, Jeongguk wants to say. You’re busy finding yourself a home, but without all of us.
Us being the seven of them. The sense of belonging to the dorms is missing, and they will never get it back.
In reality, Jeongguk knows Taehyung has only met him in order to convince him to join the ‘collaboration’ that the six of the members are working on.
It’s what the fans want. It’s what the six of them want.
The thought makes Jeongguk sick to his stomach. To harmonise with Taehyung on a stupid love song again after three fucking years only to find that his feelings have gotten even more intense.
The six of them have moved on, but Jeongguk’s still stuck in watching Taehyung exhale fairy dust with coloured hair and shining eyes. He’s still stuck in his stupid room, writing love songs for boys which will never see the world’s eyes.
He’s still stuck in those days.
“I do. I’m sorry.”
There used to be more stars in the sky back then, but they’ve all died. The river has gotten dirtier. Hoseok’s gotten richer. The six of them are thriving.
But what doesn’t change is how Jeongguk feels like he’s been burnt when Taehyung hugs him.
“It’s okay, Jeongguk-ah. I’m glad you’re back to us.”
He never left.