Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jeongguk lives in this nice house where each room is characterized with different wallpaper patterns. It’s nothing pretentious because till the day Taehyung walks into Jeongguk’s first place of waking up every day he’s still the same boy who dreams of becoming rich. Outside, the porch’s highlighted by strips of light from the ideal sunshine, making the wooden floor patched by some sort of golden flecks. Through the curtain Taehyung can watch a clump of bees hurtling around Jeongguk’s family little garden while his boyfriend walks further inside to ask his mother to spare them lunch. In between those low filmy sounds combined, left behind a lonely space for Taehyung to fill by studying each furniture in the living room. He feels the striking stillness seeps through the deepest spot of his ears till there’s only a long buzz.

Even though it’s the first time he actually visists the Jeon’s residence, Taehyung knows Jeongguk’s bedroom would be his most favorite area because he’s no stranger to his private parts. The wall is as pale as Jeongguk’s own skin and his entire stuff looks so little with much simplicity on it, and Taehyung doesn’t ask anything because he knows Jeongguk loves to keep everything as it is. They kiss beside the study lamp with Jeongguk’s hand cupping Taehyung’s jaw, but the latter’s eyes are wide-open to continues on scanning over Jeongguk’s shoulders the small action figures that lined up in a toy cabinet, wondering how Jeongguk’s childhood was like and if he had any lingering traumas for certain addresses.

They enters the bathroom not for a quickie but Taehyung just wants to know Jeongguk’s kind of toothbrush, in hope for a little intimacy.

“Have you changed it since ever.”

Jeongguk shooks his head. “I’ve been saving only one since kid.”

Taehyung’s nose scrunchs. “We can exchange toothbrush sometimes to get closer.”

Jeongguk just laughs. “We’re already the closest as we can be.”

Really, Taehyung doesn’t think so.

He doesn’t tell him that, though. Instead he turns to a broad mirror and lets his hand brushes across the fog on Jeongguk’s reflection in horizontal to see his charcoal eyes clearer. Taehyung finds Jeongguk smiles, it looks as if he puts his entire faith in him and for that, he feels a bit guilty. Every time they stare at each other Jeongguk’s eyes morph into delicate circles with the most careful gaze in them. Still, Taehyung has no idea what Jeongguk is trying to say by seconds of eye contact.

Jeongguk’s the only kid in the family so most rooms are empty and unused unless for adventurous ghosts. His parents are both workers that utilize their mindful brain only in the hope of promotions and keeping needed things in the house intact. They both don’t have a special flair for in-depth arts so this entire house is bright of creative colors chosen by the service and lots of flowy waterproof wallpapers but lacking in essences or sticky memories. Jeongguk’s father wouldn’t be home until midnight.

The hidden forlorn Jeongguk’s house emits from every side starts to feel contrast once he points out that kitchen is the most alive section here.

“It’s like, my mom’s property.”

Her hobby is cooking because that’s what she presume a woman should like to do but she also loves the lights in the kitchen at a fair morning, the silence caging but not oppressive. Every time the nightfall’s already meditate around the roof she would hunch over the ajar refrigerator then press her head inside while yelling out Jeongguk’s name through muffled vowels against the stacks of yogurt and soda. Jeongguk tells stories about her that tempts Taehyung to be his sibling instead.

They saunters around and at the end, Taehyung meets Jeongguk’s mother whom happens to be at home all day in her kitchen. As soon as their foot has stepped in she stares at Taehyung like he’s a murky jungle waiting to be explored.

Then it’s happening so fast, from the way she ensures if he’s okay, and at receiving his reassurance she asks if his clothes were meant to be gothic-like, to eventually offers Taehyung a personal designer that’s also her acquaintance so it would be free if he needs any help for daily appearance. For a second Taehyung thinks she was joking till her tight teeth smile is out of sight. Before he can even begin to speak she goes on commenting about his frizzy hair that won’t suit the weather.

It’s obvious how her eyes wildly examines Taehyung’s outline presence from head to toe. She walks in circles and surrounds his body like an instructor.

“Dear, your complexion would present earthy touches nicely, though.”

He calms down at that. Afterwards she peeps at one of Taehyung’s tattoo that’s strewn out on his collarbone and asks, “What’s the tiny climbing plants mean?” Not waiting for a proper answer, she reads the last line of While the Child Sleeps, Sonya Undresses poem on his left wrist out loud.

Jeongguk interrupts, “Hey mom, it’s such a crime to ask what does a tattoo mean for someone, you know. Something like invading privacy.”

She shakes her head in the way that reminds Taehyung of her son, mumbling guys your age.

He supposes he looks like a freshman art student even though he’s 23 that dresses way too gloomy for her liking. He’s an avid make up collector but his mascara’s less thick from that moment on. In the middle of their ride to Taehyung’s flat Jeongguk pulls up.

“Babe you’re enough.”

“Sure, maybe.”

“Listen. You’re too beautiful for this mess of a world that couldn’t see through the souls.”

How poor, that including your mom, he thinks. And still it’s weird hearing someone calls you beautiful when you had long since conceived you’re not. Afterwards Jeongguk stares at Taehyung so long, like he’s trying to drown his gaze deeper into his. But here’s the thing — Taehyung’s a gorgeous tsunami. And he knows Jeongguk’s currently just lost with his mind being somewhere else except anywhere inside him.

Needless to say, Taehyung feels unhappy.

Night after that, he hears Jeongguk’s fight with her mother through their daily late at night call. He can’t blame anyone so he searches for links of low-cost donation on the internet and spends his extra cash on them to throw away all the guiltiness. It’s always been difficult to deal with himself when he’s alone with the ceiling and fairy lights over the headboard. He tends to perpetuate bad habits e.g. biting on his nail till it bleeds or simply pinching his purlicue assuming one of them would get him out of this terrified aura someday. That day he ends up sleeping on the floor, just because.

Jeongguk still believes in them though, as if their bond is religious. Yet unlike him Taehyung blames his fate on something greater than himself which has been playing with him and when his spiritual awakening has arrived, it is instead paralyzed him from crawling back to Jeongguk. Not long after that Jeongguk begs for the second chance and then asks, come to meet my dad that will be available for days, please. But Taehyung’s freaking the hell out it takes Jeongguk by surprise.

He didn’t say it when he announced his farewell but Taehyung always thinks of Jeongguk as someone who’s too good to be true, but in other reality he knows Jeongguk’s just true. In his homeland, Daegu, he still seeks for the courage to outing completely. Accepting and loving himself, all that stuff. Jeongguk calls him one night when his breakdowns are thriving.

He’s the one who speak first. “Been missing you.”

“Babe same.”

“Sorry, ok? It’s just I wish your mother would understand me as a whole person. That that’s just how I bring myself to this world.”

It’s silent before Jeongguk humors, “You don't have to cook, y’know.”

“Yeah I hate cooking. How’s she?”

“Ok, I guess.”

It’s silent again.

“And how are you?”

“I’m ok, too, still waiting for you to come back.”

Taehyung sighs. His hair splays over the pillow and with his current condition he feels like his head is on the clouds, in a literal sense. “I daydream about death more often now.”

“God, no. That was your old habit.”

“I can’t help it.”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue. “Can’t do anything about it. Hope you’re feeling better now at least. You’re the only ex that I care about.”

Taehyung’s quiet till a remembrance trickles. “Can you believe we really imagind we’ll get married.” He laughs, then stops. “But we could never.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“Shits like parenting and taking care of you for the rest of our life? And when we’re old your back couldn’t even prop your body up? Yeah I’ll be master at those.”

“We can try it all out.”

“No, no I can’t.”

Jeongguk lets Taehyung be all over himself.

“I remember the last time I visited your house and we came to your mom’s kitchen. There was some dreamy details I noticed. Like there was a blob of spilled milk on the surface of her countertop.”

“What was so special about it?”

“I’m talking about the blob in particular. I felt like I see my soul right there.”

“…”

“…”

“I’ll let you talk.”

“Liquidated and succumbed. Leaked all over. Wet, slimy, annoying.” Taehyung takes his pause. “That’s me.”

“You were totally fine. I believe you still are, babe.”

“Don’t you get the point? I’ll tell you another thing. Remember that bad night after you took me home from Minho’s? I ran to the nearest store, searched for a parking lot, then hid in under a car just to feel fucking safe. I feel so out of this world. And not in fairy like. In an ‘I don’t-know-to-face-reality’ kinda way.”

“You know what? You’ll heal.”

“Listen. Yesterday I dreamt of sleeping in the ocean. And it was so serene. And maybe I’ll book a day or two or forever to Cherry Lake tomorrow, or fly to The Pacific. And I know I’d be parasite in your family’s garden. I know you don’t have to engrave my name on your diary. I know I’m only your beloved alien that longs to being waist deep in water with face up and just floating every single day. And who knows, maybe I’ll be more than okay without love.”

Taehyung shuts his lips into thin line.

“Bye, Gguk.”

That day Jeongguk hung up for the first time, which was alright. Now Taehyung’s doing pretty good, when he’s not anywhere, just laying down on his parents’ couch because he can’t afford to live solely to become bleak. There’s also a creamy piano at the corner that he likes to play messily sometimes. Every night he hisses a few lines of their last conversation to his pillow and wake up with tearless tracks on his cheeks.

Taehyung’s mother zoom in on his darker eyes in the fresh wave of August. She shifts his bangs away from his face. He says, or convinces that I'm ok, more than okay without love. He just needs to go somewhere else and look out for the little revolutions in his everyday life. That doesn’t have to be someone.