Archive of Our Own

hygge (danish. meaning: comfort, coziness):

/hʊɡ.ə/

feeling warm, comfortable, and safe. used when acknowledging a feeling or moment, a quality of coziness that comes from doing simple things, whether at home or out, ordinary or extraordinary as cozy, charming, or special. 

– ♡ –

If he knew his brain was going to give up on him, Jeongguk would have never taken this job in the first place.

A month ago, he thought he could do it. His head had been jammed with ideas, catchy melodies and soul-touching lyrics coming here and there, but it was winter break–it was Christmas, and he refused to do any work for at least a few weeks.

To be fair, people did warn him that his third year of college was going to be the hardest, so maybe he should have been expecting it. But Jeongguk had never been one to blindly take someone else's experiences before his own, so he held his head up high and started his next semester with his expectations higher than the Lotte World Tower. In his defense, Jeongguk knew how smart he was, he knew he was capable of keeping his GPA in the 90% range without having to sacrifice too much of his pastimes, regardless of how allegedly hard third year was. 

And he did it.

But needless to say, though he did manage to keep his A's, Jeongguk truly underestimated how tired he would be by the time December came around. Even worse, he was only halfway through it, there was still a whole semester left, and he was already jammed to his very core. So on the last days of November, he had put on his Christmas pants and got on the first train to Busan, ready to dive right into a microbiology-free zone, leaving his guitar back at his apartment on purpose, determined to not do anything but eat, sleep, and repeat (with the occasional task of disappearing into his family's couch) during his very well earned holiday break.

Because hey, as Jeongguk told himself, it was going to be fine. 

When the first hint of a melody popped into his head while he was flipping pancakes for breakfast one morning, Jeongguk reached for his phone to record it right away, hesitating for only two seconds before convincing himself there was no way he was going to forget about it–and in hindsight, maybe that was his first mistake. But he'd gone back to his pancake anyway, tucked his silly little tune into the back of his head, thinking about it at all times during his stay, but never attempting to save it anywhere. 

It was a break. 

He was taking. A break. 

And while he didn't consider making The Neutron's next song a job, per se, he was still taking a break nonetheless. His brain was taking a vacation, because again, it was going to be just fine. 

He was going to spend time with his family, get a little bit charged up during his stay there and then go back home to work on the song that had been resonating in his head during the entire break. In the same order, even. Almost an entire chorus already, composed solely in his head. 

And when the first week of January came along, all he had left to do was get home and write it down.

It was supposed to be a piece of cake, something he could do with his eyes closed, or half-asleep, or if he had to wear a cast on his right arm for the rest of his life. The point is–it was supposed to be easy. Because he'd been confident that there was simply no way, absolutely no way that he could ever forget.

And yet–

He was here.

Cradling his guitar in his arms, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to force his brain back in action. Admittedly, he probably shouldn't have trusted his memory that much. He had always been too headstrong for his own good, so it really was fitting that this, too, would backfire on him, but. 

If he could retain entire dialogues from the shows his roommate forced him to watch with him–and by forced he means: Taehyung looks at him for three entire seconds and Jeongguk signs his life away–, then he could at least count on his brain to remember the things he actually needed to retain. 

And well, to be fair, Taehyung had only one show he watched over and over again, and that was none other than seventeen seasons (and counting) of Grey's Anatomy, to fulfill his teenage dreams of a career in the medical field, so maybe memorizing reused storylines wasn’t actually that hard, but still. He has things he needs to remember. Like, say, the song he had offered to compose for their next gig, among other things.

But no. 

Instead, Jeongguk remembers, line by line, the scene where Lexie confessed that she still had feelings for Mark outside the hospital in season eight. Which was heartbreaking to several degrees, yeah, but if Jeongguk was going to spend his Sunday nights re-watching seventeen (and counting!) seasons of the same show over and over again, then it should at least amount to something other than Taehyung's dreamy smile. 

He thinks his brain owes him that much. 

(Again, to be fair, he didn’t think the show was actually that bad. He was just particularly fond of the tiny pout Taehyung always gave him whenever he pretended to complain about it, so naturally, he kept pretending to complain about it.)

But still, that doesn't make it any less unfair.

He hates being stuck. Especially when it’s the kind of stuck where he knows exactly what he wants to do, but he just can’t do it. 

Jeongguk snaps his eyes open, determined to stop the cycle of unproductivity he created for himself. He sits up on the couch, positioning his guitar back into place, his fingers over the strings. He’s been moping long enough. This time, he’s going to do it. He’s going to play the right note and his creativity will spring back to life and he’s going to do it. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, feels the roughness of the strings under the pads of his fingers, and he brushes them over the chords once, twice, and–

And nothing happens. 

The box of ideas in his brain remains as empty as it’s been since he set foot back into his apartment, and Jeongguk actually feels like crying. To his side, Brenda–their lizard–stares at him from her tank, and though Jeongguk knows he’s probably making it up, he could swear she’s mocking him. Brenda blinks only once, before turning around and leaving Jeongguk to his misery.

He’s about to complain about it when the door swings open, followed by the usual “Babe, I’m home!” that always comes whenever one of them walks through the front door. It’s a thing between them, just something they do. They’ve been doing it long enough that Jeongguk barely even remembers how exactly it came to be. All he knows is that one day Taehyung walked in, called him babe, and that was it. Jeongguk had no following questions nor objections. 

He pretends he doesn't immediately feel the groan in his throat grow. It has nothing to do with Taehyung. He's just frustrated, his own brain failed him and now he won't have a song ready in time for the next practice of The Neutrons and Seokmin will give him the look.

The. Look. 

Pursed lips, with the faintest head tilt and a hint of disappointment in his eyes, but a tad of humor in it, too. The same look he gives to the freshmen trying to figure out their way around the labs. The same look they have perfectioned over the years they have known each other. Jeongguk has never once been on the receiving end of that look, and he doesn't wish to be. He's been the perfect lab partner and bandmate for six semesters in a row. He's never late, he has only missed practice a total of three times, and those were totally excusable, too, in his opinion–he'd been with Seokmin for two of those, working on a group project for their hardest class to date, so.

So, in other words, Jeongguk's had a clean record so far. 

But now.

But now.

“Tae,” he whines ignoring the giggle Taehyung lets out, “I've been betrayed.”

Now, he might just break his streak.

Jeongguk closes his eyes again, giving into the silence in their apartment, and he listens to Taehyung’s footsteps as he moves around it. It’s almost relaxing, and he feels himself unwind a little bit at that, until the cushions at his side sink, until there’s a hand brushing the hair on his face away, tucking a strand of it behind his ear.

“What is it?” his roommate asks. “Did something happen? Did your hot drummer finally decide to fight you Pitch Perfect riff-off style for the lead singer position?”

He snaps his eyes open, but the glare he means to be scary does nothing but make a giggle come flying out of Taehyung’s lips, and Jeongguk wants to sulk even harder at that, even if he knows Taehyung is only joking. 

“Is that the betrayal you’re talking about?” Taehyung asks again, carefully removing the guitar from Jeongguk’s hold. Once Taehyung secures it in his arms, Jeongguk sprawls his limbs out on the couch. “I mean, I’m fully ready to protest outside of wherever it is you guys practice at. I’ll have the signs ready for you by tonight if you need me to, I’m sure Yoongi hyung will help me, we all know he’d kill–” 

Jeongguk snorts, shaking his head before he glares at him again, though it comes without any hint of malice this time around. He almost waits for Taehyung to start playing it, but Taehyung does no such thing, simply setting it over his lap as he runs his hand through Jeongguk’s hair again.

“As much as I hate to crush your hopes and dreams for a revolt, it’s not about that.” Jeongguk explains. “It’s my brain. My brain is useless.”

He huffs, rolling over on the couch until he's laying on his stomach, propping his chin up on his palms when Taehyung shifts in his place, and he watches as he carefully sets the guitar down, hooking the nut on the armrest of the couch. Then, he turns back to him, adjusting the glasses on his face before setting his hands on his lap, waiting for a moment, a second one. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else, and they do nothing but stare at each other for the next few seconds. It’s pretty self explanatory, Jeongguk thinks–a useless brain, one that is his. A brain that’s of no use, of less than use. Well, he’s not sure of that last one, but it’s fine because Taehyung is raising his eyebrows next, pretty and perfectly arched, head tilting to the side before he speaks again. 

“Okay?” he starts, and the confusion on his face is almost comical. “I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one, Gukkie.”

Jeongguk deflates, burying his head on the cushions because he is dramatic. Taehyung chuckles at that, and Jeongguk ignores how pretty he thinks the sound is for as long as it takes him to look back up at the ceiling. 

“You see, Seokmin signed us up for this Valentine's Day Bash, right, and–”

“I heard about that!” Taehyung interrupts, a sunlit pitch in his voice. “Jaehyun was telling me about it the other day.”

“Yeah, and I told them I was gonna–” 

Jeongguk stops, shifting on his spot until he’s looking at Taehyung again. 

“Taehyung.” 

He hums, and Jeongguk lets out a sigh, schooling his expression into a serious one. 

It proves to be a little difficult, because all he wants to do is sulk and binge the first fifty-minute long video essay he finds, even if it’s about something he doesn’t really care about. At this point, he’ll take anything that could distract him long enough to forget all about his problems. 

“Tell me honestly,” he starts, looking right into Taehyung’s eyes when he asks, “Are you into Jaehyun?”

“No,” Taehyung laughs through it easily, and Jeongguk has a hard time figuring out if he’s lying or not. “But what if I was?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Then I’d have to kick him out.” 

(He’s kidding, obviously.)

(But is he, though?)

“Jeongguk.” Taehyung warns, and Jeongguk’s facade breaks off. 

“So you are!”

He must be imagining it, but he swears the tip of Taehyung's ears flush red, and he hesitates before speaking again, chin jutting out as he does so. “I am not! But I mean, have you seen his face? It's like, perfect.”

Jeongguk gapes at him, offense filling him. That's–that's like. Cheating, or something. It's not that Taehyung can't flirt with whoever he likes, obviously, but he's pretty sure flirting with one of Jeongguk's best friends goes against the Roommate Code. Besides, Jaehyun isn't even that pretty. Sure, his face might be perfect, but that's rich coming from Taehyung, who goes around the world all day looking like that. If he wants to talk about perfection, Jeongguk thinks he might have to gift him a mirror for his next birthday.

But anyway.

It's unfair. This whole conversation is unfair.

“He's–he's our drummer!” he manages to get out, stumbling over his own words. 

“Mhm, I know. That's really hot of him.” Taehyung says, a sound close to a giggle slipping past him when Jeongguk rolls his eyes. Now that is unfair. If being in a band made people hot, then Jeongguk should be the goddamn sun. He's the leader, that has to give him more points than fucking Jaehyun. “Plus, as if that even matters, Guk. I'm not even in your band.”

“Whatever. That's–not. Important.” Jeongguk huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Anyway, as I was saying. He signed us up and I told him I could write the song because I'm an idiot that never thinks of the consequences of his words, but it was fine because I had one! It sounded good and I had it but I didn't want to write it down because–! As I said, I'm an idiot and–”

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung calls, taking the cushion into his own hands before Jeongguk can suffocate himself with it again.

Then, he scoots over, elbowing Jeongguk’s arm like he always does, and Jeongguk knows what he wants. But recent discoveries had made him aware of the thrill in his stomach whenever Taehyung gets this close, so it takes him a second to give it to him. 

Eventually though, Jeongguk carefully fits himself against Taehyung’s side, so easily that it has him letting out another huff.

“I’m stuck,” he admits in the quiet settling over the room. 

And like he always does, Taehyung doesn’t say much, just quietly taking Jeongguk’s hand into his lap, playing with his fingers, grazing his thumb against Jeongguk’s calloused ones, sending shivers through Jeongguk’s entire body. 

“Hey,” Taehyung calls, poking the side of his stomach. “There’s no rush. I know you’ll figure it out.”

Jeongguk raises a brow in question, though he says nothing in reply, not even when Taehyung pokes him again, this time harder. Frankly, Jeongguk doesn’t see it working out, but he remains quiet. 

It’s definitely not the first time he’s been stuck on a song, so though he’s not particularly happy about it, he knows that Taehyung is right, rushing it never works for him. 

The last time he got stuck, he went out and dyed his hair blue. Which, yes, sounded like a bad plan in theory, but hey, he got most of The Movies written in the span of a few days, so. 

And it isn’t that he’s a stranger to songwriting, it’s just that he’s usually more into the composing aspect of making songs, taking a melody in his brain and making it have meaning for someone else.

“You always do.”

But Taehyung is right, he’s still got plenty of time. 

– ♡ –

The next time he tries again, it's a Saturday and the room is so quiet around him that he fears he might fall asleep any second now.

He'd waited to pick up his guitar again, which was annoying because he knew what he wanted to write about, what he wanted the scene in his head to look like. He had the tune, and he had the melody, the only thing he needed was the words. But the more he tried, the more frustrated he grew, and it got to the point he started hating the words he did have so much he had almost texted Seokmin that he couldn't do it, he was never going to make it in time. 

His brain was empty, and it felt as though it would be for a while.

But Taehyung had stopped him, yanking his phone off from his hands, sending him the sharpest look Jeongguk had ever seen in his eyes.

It was interesting to say the least, enough that Jeongguk had quirked a brow in his direction, his amusement growing past the twitching feeling in his chest. Taehyung's piercing eyes refused to budge, and Jeongguk watched as he deleted his half-written over-dramatic letter of resignation to Seokmin, throwing the phone on the couch before suggesting that he takes a few days off.

At first, Jeongguk had complained, obviously, because–

“A few days off is what got me in this mess in the first place, Tae,” he had whined, falling back on the carpet with eyes closed and open arms. Fully ready for death to come and take him. “If only I had written the stupid notes…”

And though Jeongguk couldn't see him, he knew Taehyung had rolled his eyes at that, clapping his hands before bending over to pull Jeongguk back up.

“Alright, that's it. Get up, I'm taking you somewhere.”

“What? No, stop, I can't. I have to–”

“You have to clear your head, so. We're going out.” Taehyung announced, pulling him around their dorm as he surfed for their coats and wallets in the very organized mess that was their living room. “You can't rush your art, Guk.”

And so, they had ended up at an ice cream shop, debating on the ranking of ice cream toppings for the rest of the afternoon until Taehyung had to leave for work, and Jeongguk had gone back home without the suffocating feeling of failure in his head. It was still there, but in a smaller, less overwhelming way.

For the next few days, Jeongguk had taken his advice and looked away from his lyric book. Though he has to say it wasn't all that effective, since the unforgiving passage of time only made room for his anxiety to thrive. After all, Valentine's day was only a few weeks away–like, five. Which sounds like a lot, but every day he didn't rush it was another day he wasted. In his books, at least.

But, as he’s come to learn in the three years he’s been living with him, most of the time, Taehyung knows what he's talking about. This morning, when Jeongguk woke up with a clear opening verse in his head, it only worked as a testament to how amazing he already knew his roommate was.

Which brings him here.

Laid back on his desk chair, feet propped on his bed, slow, drawn-out tunes coming from the guitar in his arms. 

There's a lump by his side where Taehyung is curled up on Jeongguk's bed, drowned in a thick, fluffy hoodie that almost pools at his cuffs. Jeongguk can't fight the laugh that threatens to leave him when Taehyung whines quietly, occasionally letting out small little puffs of air from time to time as he dozes off. He figures he's only half-asleep though, because Taehyung's nose keeps scrunching up whenever Jeongguk fucks up the cords, only to twist into a dreamy smile when he rights his wrongs.

It’s kind of really fucking cute, and though Jeongguk tries to fight it, it makes a familiar warmth settle on his cheeks. Thankfully, there's no one around to see it. He quickly clears his throat, taking one last look at his sleeping roommate before resuming the dragging of his fingers through the strings.

They haven't seen much of each other since Jeongguk's been back home, what with Taehyung taking up a winter internship keeping him busy for most of the day. Jeongguk, on the other hand, has absolutely nothing to do. The Neutrons are back in their homes during the break, so until March comes around and the new semester begins, Jeongguk is absolutely free. That being one of the reasons he offered to write the song in the first place. 

He tries to remain relatively quiet, humming along to the tune of the guitar, trying out different words and rhymes. He lets his eyes fall closed, fingers strumming on the strings slowly, giving it time for the scene in his head to set.

“Maybe it’s the way–” Jeongguk sings quietly, trying out the words on his tongue. He frowns when the melody comes out a little flimsy, shaking his head. With a quick glance at Taehyung, he watches as he hugs his pillow tighter. Then, with his eyes still on the sleeping boy beside him, Jeongguk tries again, adds, “–the way that you looked in my eyes, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”

It doesn't sound perfect, but he thinks it will do for now. He writes it down on the pad next to him, leaning back on the chair he sits on, and quickly starts playing again, making the most of the sudden surge of inspiration. Admittedly, it goes by slower than he would like it to, definitely too slow compared to the pace he's used to–on a good day, he'd get most of a song out in the span of a few days. 

“That sounds really nice,” Taehyung mumbles, and though it’s said in the quietest whisper, Jeongguk startles all the same. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Wasn't sleeping,” he lies. Jeongguk is pretty sure he heard him snoring a bit ago, but chooses not to comment and simply watches the way Taehyung stirs on the bed, his eyes remaining closed. “S'nice though, don't stop.”

It's a little bit dreamy, to hear Taehyung's voice like that. Nothing short of a whisper, like he's already asleep, hanging onto this moment through the strings of Jeongguk's song.

Truthfully, Jeongguk had never considered himself a biased person, by any means, but he'd always liked Taehyung's voice the most. Perhaps a little bit too much, though that was hardly his fault. Taehyung's voice had the sweetest, most compelling tune to it Jeongguk has ever heard; in the early mornings, it was deep, thick and heavy with sleep, only to morph into a silvery tune that had Jeongguk stopping dead in his tracks whenever he overheard him singing in the shower, smoothing out the words to the instructions on the back of the shampoo bottles. The worst times, though, were when Taehyung wanted something–his voice would always get impossibly softer, dizzying and tender all at once, always hand in hand with gleaming eyes and long, fluttering lashes.

Needless to say, Jeongguk's heart was always caught in the crossfire.

But this. This was his favorite, by far.

Honeyed yet husky in the same breath, like the most vulnerable sound in the world. Drawn-out words that Jeongguk feels the sudden itch to protect, to treasure them in his heart, keep them safe and only for him to hear.

It's a strange feeling, and it's been happening often enough that Jeongguk was beginning to expect it now–he's always known Taehyung was pretty, but he's never known Taehyung was pretty, you know?–but it's still new enough that he couldn't help but push it down as soon as it came.

Jeongguk didn't like it, naturally, but he didn't want to fight it, either. Sure, crushing on his roommate was as inconvenient as it could get, sometimes even painful, sure, but well. Who was he to complain? There was not much he could do apart from suffering in silence and coming back home a whole three weeks earlier because he didn't want Taehyung to be alone.

Not that Jeongguk is planning on telling him, though. 

It's then that Taehyung blinks an eye open, stretching an arm over his head while the other squeezes the pillow closer to him. He sits up on the bed, resting his back against the wall with tousled hair, messy locks pointing in every possible direction, and it's nothing short of endearing, absolutely heart wrenching in the best possible way. He looks so cozy, so soft that Jeongguk has half a mind to reach out and touch, carve his fingers through his hair, caress the side of his cheek, just to check if it's really as soft as Jeongguk imagines it to be.

“Play it again?”

“Huh?”

“The song,” Taehyung explains, propping his chin onto the pillow. “Play it again.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk swallows, letting out a small chuckle before turning back to his guitar. “Um, so. Obviously this isn't great yet, and it might actually be the worst thing I've ever written, so just don’t–”

“Jeongguk.”

“Right, yeah. Okay.”

It's a little bit silly, the way his ears burn under Taehyung's gaze, the way his hands start to sweat where he's gripping the guitar. He doesn't know why he's this nervous–it's not like this is the first time he’s played for Taehyung, or the first time he’s heard him sing. It's happened more times than Jeongguk cares to remember, the most normal thing between them, almost a routine at this point. 

But there's something about this moment in particular, something about the gentle smile tugging at Taehyung's pouty lips. It makes Jeongguk's skin tingle, though not in a painful kind of way. It's more like a soft prickle, leaving a trail of nothingness in his skin. Like it's the only thing he's ever felt. Like it's the only thing he will ever feel again.

Naturally, Jeongguk shoves it off as a cramp. 

After sitting in the same position for a few hours now, his muscles are bound to get tired, so. He twists his wrist a few times, craning his head to the side before swifting his fingers through the strings again, and he plays. 

It isn’t longer than a minute. It can’t be, he only has the first verse down, but he swears it feels almost endless with Taehyung’s heavy eyes on him. Jeongguk can’t help but look away, fixing his focus on playing the right cords at the right time. Telling himself, this is normal, this is easy, reminding himself that there’s nothing to be nervous over here. 

This is his scene; quiet reigning over his room, the only sound emanating from the guitar in his hands, letting out the most soothing melody that does nothing but cloud his head with rays of gold, one that makes his skin tingle, his heart soar. 

Until the song ends. 

There’s a second wave or neverending seconds, nothing but silence when his hands come to a halt, pressing his lips into a thin line, and he waits. He has no choice but to look up from his guitar, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s for only half a second before he looks away again. 

And this is the part that Jeongguk hates the most, the wave of vulnerability that comes with showing someone the things he’s been working on, especially when they were yet unfinished, the nerves prickling all over him, the silence that always comes after.

He feels it growing inside him, the heat rising in his neck, heavy under the weight of his roommate’s eyes. Taehyung still isn’t moving, his lips parting when lets out an airy laugh, and Jeongguk feels like his entire skin is burning. 

“It’s gonna be faster than that,” Jeongguk explains when the silence gets too much, pursing his lips. “The guys are gonna come in with the drums and guitars and stuff, this is just a demo…”

“It sounds amazing, Guk,” Taehyung says then, the smile on his face lingering only through the corners of his lips. “Honestly.”

Jeongguk presses his lips tighter together. He doesn’t love this part either, the praising. He doesn’t think he deserves it yet, not when all he did was hum and mumble some words here and there–when it’s not perfect.

But he knows Taehyung means it. Three years of living together give Jeongguk enough knowledge to recognize when he’s being sincere, and the smile reaching all the way to Taehyung’s eyes definitely is a sign of it, but Jeongguk still shies away from it while simultaneously needing it anyway. 

It’s a weird experience, but Jeongguk manages.

“Thanks,” he says anyway, looking back down at his guitar when Taehyung’s eyes get too shiny for him to handle. “It’s still somewhat of a mess, but–”

“But,” Taehyung interrupts. “It’s a pretty mess. Very calming to listen to, if you ask me. Although maybe that’s just cause’ it’s you. But anyway, what is it about?”

Jeongguk winces, “I’m not sure yet. Love, I guess? It’s for the Valentines bash, so.”

“So it has to be all lovey-dovey?”

Well, not necessarily. He’s pretty sure it could be about anything. He had been writing it with a laid-back feeling in his mind, like something to listen to in the car with someone else. A friend, a lover, he wasn’t sure, he didn’t really think it mattered all that much, so Jeongguk shrugs, unsure of what to say. 

It’s the wrong thing to do though, because the smile on Taehyung’s face twists into a smirk, and his eyes glisten with mischief a second later. 

“Mhm, is that why you were stuck?” Taehyung bites down a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s been a while since you’ve last–”

“Shut up,” Jeongguk protests, frowning as he tries to remember how long it’s been since he’s last been with someone. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Sure, it had been a while since he was last in love, but not that long that he’s forgotten all about it. Definitely short of a year, but it’s not like it mattered. Sure, he hasn’t officially dated anyone since Eunwoo broke up with him halfway through their second-year, but it’s not like he hasn’t had feelings for anyone since then. 

After all, Taehyung is right there. 

“Okay, then–!” Taehyung starts with a sigh, moving as if he’s going to get up from the bed, but he doesn’t actually do it. “If you’re not stuck anymore then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, wait! I’m–I still, uh, still am,” Jeongguk whines, and his lip juts out into a pout before he can truly stop himself. “I have most of the melody down but it’s the lyrics that’s been giving me a hard time.”

“That’s still impressive. Sounding like that while you’re stuck? Damn, The Neutrons don’t know what they have in their hands with you.”

He wishes the praise didn’t go straight to his heart, but it’s there before Taehyung even finishes saying them, going all poof and filling Jeongguk’s chest with a fluttery feeling almost on cue. 

“Shut up,” he fires, weakly. 

Taehyung shrugs, and his next smile is a lot less poofy and a lot more oh. Oh no.  

“Of course, they would have nothing without me. The best Jeongguk-whisperer in Seoul, specialized in getting pretty boys out of their pretty little genius heads. Including, but not limited to, band related stuff.” Taehyung says, eyes closing as he recites his speech, with a finger lifted in the air like a whole aristocrat. 

Jeongguk lets him, listening with close attention as the smile on his own face grows, and the blush on his face chills slowly. 

“Because I’m amazing, of course.”

“You are,” Jeongguk agrees.

A snort breaks through the room then, and Taehyung sways an arm back to throw the pillow right at Jeongguk's face. He barely dodges it, the tingling on his skin returning when Taehyung erupts in a fit of unabashed giggling. When Jeongguk looks back up, there's a pout lingering on Taehyung's lips, and his brain takes a second to reboot.

Taehyung jumps off the bed, taking his glasses from the night table before putting them on. Then, he runs his fingers through his hair, and Jeongguk has that moment, that split second when his brains just blacks out and god dammit he looks so pretty. 

He snaps out of it when Taehyung skips to the door, "Okay, sorry. I’m really going now, I know how much you hate noise when you’re writing."

“You don't have to,” Jeongguk rushes to say, cracking his fingers to distract himself. “I mean, you can stay. If you want.”

Taehyung stops, turning around on his heels with a puzzled expression on his face, like he’s taken aback but also amused at the same time. He quirks up a brow, and the corner of his lips lift up in a way that shouldn’t have Jeongguk looking down at the movement, but it does. 

“Are you sure?”

“I just,” he mumbles, shrugging once before he adds, quietly, “I think I need a little bit of help for this one. So noise is welcomed.”

He keeps the especially if it comes from you part to himself, simply sending another pursed smile his way. What Taehyung doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And though it’s not a total lie, it also kind of is. He's been doing fine for the first time in what feels like weeks, and his usual process consists only of three things: the scene in his head, his guitar, and absolute and complete silence. 

Truth be told, he doesn't need Taehyung around.

He just, kind of wants him. Around, that is.

Obviously.

“I'm literally useless for songwriting.” Taehyung replies. “I know that. You know that. I know that you know that! Remember when I had to write that piece for Professor Qian’s class last year? He wanted it to sound like a song and you tried to teach me how to play guitar? Everything was very sad and I cried?”

Jeongguk chuckles at the memory. His professor had asked them to write a poem with a background song made by them. The problem was that Taehyung didn’t know how to play any instruments, and Jeongguk, trying to be the best new roommate he could be, had offered to teach him. It was easy enough, just a combination of three chords. But Taehyung had been overwhelmed at the time (back then, Jeongguk assumed he’d been overreacting. Third-year couldn’t have been that hard. But, again, Jeongguk had always been too head-strung for his own good, and he truly underestimated the amount of pent up stress the second half of university came with) so getting a few cords wrong a few times in a row was enough to send him over the edge.

They can laugh about it now, but back then Jeongguk had been so stunned that he almost started crying with him.

“But you know words!” he argues, and gets ready for the part that isn’t a lie. Well, mostly. “I've been struggling with them lately, so, y’know. I could use some help, if you’re not busy?”

Taehyung stares at him, hesitating for a moment before he lets out a deep sigh, and takes a step back into the room. 

“Is this really how I'm putting my degree to use?” he whines, but he plops down on the bed nonetheless, taking the pad that Jeongguk hands him. “By being your own personal Thesaurus?”

There's another giggle building at the base of Jeongguk's throat, but he bites it down just in time, dragging his fingers through the strings of his guitar again. 

“Okay–! So what do you think rhymes with radio?”

– ♡ –

jeon jk

tae

pst pst pst

taeeee

biggest big brained human that’s ever lived

best roomie of my life

you really do have nothing to do huh

what’s up

jeon jk

what do u think rhymes with hair

best roomie of my life

… 

seriously? 

jeon jk

im desperate

pls help me

best roomie of my life

what’s the context

jeon jk

driving through the valley got your hands in my hair

tell me where you wanna go and i’ll BLANK

ive tried ‘right away’ but it doesnt rly fit

best roomie of my life

hm

what about just 

I'll take you there? 

jeon jk

see!!

this is why i need u

best roomie of my life

you could’ve just googled you know

jeon jk

i know ;)

best roomie of my life

i can’t believe you’re using me like this

here i was

thinking we had something special

jeon jk

u and every dictionary ive ever owned

best roomie of my life

i want your things out by the time i get home

jeon jk

no u dont

u love me 2 much

best roomie of my life

that’s generous

jeon jk

admit it tae

u cant live without me

;)

best roomie of my life

try me

– ♡ –

Like most things when it comes to them, this one happens almost quietly.

If he thinks about it–if he really pays attention and looks for it–Jeongguk knows he could find a poetic underlying to their relationship. Truth be told, he doesn't even think he would struggle all that much.

Ever since he first moved in, back when Jeongguk was still nineteen with boring black hair and that good old first-year glint in his eyes, back when he still thought of Taehyung as the intimidating second-year with a face so pretty Jeongguk struggled to speak around him for the first few weeks of rooming together. 

It was pretty embarrassing, those first few days. Embarrassing enough that Taehyung keeps retelling the story even two years later. Every time he gets drunk, without a doubt. Jeongguk likes to think he's immune to it by now, but his ears still turn the darkest shade of red whenever he brings up the time coffee came flying out of his nose when Taehyung greeted him good morning on day four either way.

So, yeah. Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first.

Taehyung wasn't as outgoing and carefree as he first looked to be, and Jeongguk needed time to break from his shell completely. But it wasn't long until Jeongguk was able to get over how cool his roommate was, and soon enough they were bonding over bubble tea flavors and shitty reality TV shows.

(Jeongguk was an avid Dance Moms fan whereas Taehyung leaned closer to the Flavor of Love side of the spectrum. He claimed that it wasn't because of the outstanding meme quality that came with it, but Jeongguk could recognize bullshit when he saw it.)

Now, Jeongguk struggles to remember a time when Taehyung wasn't the absolute roommate of his life.

But it isn't lost on him, how easy it was to be with Taehyung. So really, it shouldn’t be a surprise when this, too, blends into a routine so easily that Jeongguk hardly notices at first. 

In hindsight, he really didn’t notice it at all the first few times. 

It looked like a simple, innocent coincidence. Jeongguk had been huffing out his frustrations after being stuck on the same line for the good half of an hour when Taehyung happened to get home. As usual, Taehyung had asked to hear it, and as usual, Jeongguk played it for him right away. Then, he offered to simply change the other of two words, keep the flow of the song going. It was an innocent suggestion, but it had spiraled Jeongguk’s brain into an endless loop of ideas.

And then it just, sort of, didn’t stop. 

Jeongguk had nothing else to do, and though it had been going by fast, winter break was longer than it felt, so for the remaining weeks of January, he had been working nonstop on his song. 

But it wasn’t until Taehyung was purposely hanging out around him while Jeongguk worked on his song–titled: a pain in my ass, for now–that he really took notice of it, and oh. Oh, that’s kind of cute. Really cute. Cute enough that it had his heart dissolving in his ribcage, melting it all the way up through his esophagus. That was the only logical explanation as to why his neck felt like it was burning. 

Obviously.

One minute, Jeongguk was holed up in his room scribbling words down and recording memos on his phone, and the next one, he was almost useless without Taehyung.

At first, he convinced himself he'd only been procrastinating until The Neutrons got back to him–despite their group chat having a series of thumbs-up emojis and encouraging messages that Jeongguk had read as soon as he woke up–but now, with January almost at its last week, he only had a handful of days to figure out the rest of the lyrics, perfect them, and bring it up to the band with enough time so they could practice before the festival. But instead of getting the usual deadline-induced boost, he was even more stuck than before.

It's not even that he had a lot left to do. He managed to write down the verses and the pre-chorus, and he felt pretty good about it. Now, all he really needed was for the chorus to sound exactly like the picture in his head, and then he would be done. 

This song wasn’t anywhere near the most complex song Jeongguk has ever had to write, not by a long shot, and even if writing it has been tough, he has to admit it was pretty fun. Like yes, it’s been taking him longer than usual to get it done, but yes, he’s been enjoying the process anyway; it’s been frustrating and tricky and headache-inducing, but at least it makes him happy. 

However, that doesn’t make it any less annoying. 

Especially when he’s almost (finally) done and his creativity just straight up jumps out a window. True, Jeongguk might have had no proof of that happening, but he also had no doubts, so.

And especially when he knows it all too well, the feeling he wants to capture between his words. 

That feeling of being nineteen again and taking the slow, long way home with the person he liked just to spend more time with them. That feeling of falling in love with someone the way a roller coaster drops, gradually and almost painstakingly slow, until he's at the highest point and it's like, oh, here it comes. Until his heart is soaring in his chest, leaving a trail of unabashed happiness within him, his skin tingling all over because oh, I could just look at you forever, and oh, you make me feel so high.

The fact that there’s only one face that comes to mind when he thinks about those feelings should really be more concerning than it is, but Jeongguk is busy . He has feelings to put into words, different lines to get stuck on, he can't be thinking about his roommate's melodic laugh all day.

So instead, he paints. 

Jeongguk has never been good at leaving things undone, so he doesn’t even phantom the option of giving up, though he is starting to want to. He’s not the designated songwriter of his band, so he could hand it over to Seokmin to finish the rest. It would be a lot easier to just do that, and frankly, he could just send him the finished track with most of the lyrics and call it a day. 

But instead of taking the easy way out, Jeongguk spends his Monday morning googling variations of what to do when you’re stuck on a line, because he is a masochist. 

It proves to be almost useless though, because he’s tried everything on the first two pages of results–going for a walk to take his mind off of it, set a time limit, writing on paper instead of his phone, writing on his phone instead of paper, playing around with the structure of the song, rearrange it, moving around his dorm to change the scenery–you name it, and Jeongguk has tried it. 

Except, well, this. 

Art therapy. 

His last semblance of hope. 

Originally, he’d first seen Taehyung do it, back in their first weeks of living together, he’d locked himself in his room with six different cans of paint, only coming out to wash the paint off his hands and get a snack, sometimes in a different order. But he had wiped it off from his memory until 27 Impeccable Ways to Overcome Songwriter's Block suggested it, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting in the middle of the living room, dipping his fingers in a can of yellow paint. 

It was cold, and way thicker than he remembered paint to be, but other than that, Jeongguk felt absolutely nothing. 

He didn’t feel ‘reconnected with his artistic side’ or that the pent-up stress was ‘flowing right out of him’. If anything, he felt the stress reaching an all-time high, what with how much time (and money!) he spent getting this stupid paint to begin with. 

But he follows the instructions either way, letting out a sigh before dipping his clean finger on the pink can, smearing it over the back of his hand. 

It’s sometime during this that the door to his apartment sneaks open and unbeknownst to Jeongguk–who’s still mixing the different hues of pinks and yellows over his skin–Taehyung walks in, quietly setting his bag on the floor and taking in what must be a very peculiar scene. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it, dummy.”

Jeongguk doesn’t startle. He’s used to Taehyung sneaking up on him by now. Instead, he shifts in his place, craning his neck to look back at his roommate, who’s perched on the armrest of the couch, biting back a smile that spreads on his face anyway. 

He knows that if he weren’t so frustrated his heart would be buzzing furiously right about now, just from seeing Taehyung like that; with the afternoon sunlight beaming on his face, making his eyes brighter than they really are, painting his skin gold. It’s been happening recently, but enough times that Jeongguk expects it by now, and while his heart does buzz in his chest this time, it feels a lot less poofy and a lot more painful. 

Taehyung is beautiful, and Jeongguk would look at him forever if he could, but he has shit to do. 

Like, cry. 

Amongst other things. 

“The website didn’t say anything about a paper,” he replies after a moment, turning around to find his phone. 

He’s two seconds away from grabbing it when he remembers the paint in his hand, and his hand halts in the air only to retreat silently after a moment. Jeongguk shrugs, throwing more paint onto his hand as he pointedly ignores Taehyung’s face. 

“So you’re painting your own hand instead?”

Jeongguk stops, considering it for a second. It does look kind of pretty, the place right below his knuckles where the yellow mixed up with the pink. It looks like summer, he decides. Pretty enough to lift his shoulders in another shrug.

“I’m improvising.”

Taehyung lets out a giggle, but ultimately leaves him to it, shaking his head only once before he disappears into his room, and with brows knitted tightly together, Jeongguk tries again, shuddering when he sinks a finger into the cold paint once more. 

He paints, if you can even call it that, and paints, and paints. 

Until he’s closer to resembling Rainbow Dash than he is to any human ever. It’s frustrating, that much is obvious, even without the groan he lets out. He doesn’t feel anything, and he’s running out of time. The guys are returning soon and he barely even has a song to begin with and they won’t have enough time to practice and–

His finger slips, destroying the almost flawless sunset of colors he managed to get on the back of his hand. But now it's ruined and there's a bright yellow line across the perfectly toned shade of salmon. Even worse, his skin is stiffening where the paint begins to dry, cracking and ruining the only good thing he did today.

Jeongguk plops down on his side, burying his face against the side of the couch. If he closes his eyes for long enough, maybe the stress will forget he's even here and leave him alone.

He hears the sound of Taehyung's footsteps around the living room, the crack of his knee when he kneels down beside him, feels the way he pokes a gentle finger into Jeongguk's shoulder. It makes a chuckle build up in his throat, one he lets out quietly, masking it against the foot of the couch.

Taehyung pokes him again, and Jeongguk fakes out another groan, shoving the finger away.

“Just to check if you were dead,” Taehyung explains.

Amused, Jeongguk snorts, followed by another groan when Taehyung pokes him a second time, and another one, until he's laying on his side, glaring up at his face, mischief coloring his pretty eyes with glint.

“Death would be easier than this,” he whines. 

“Okay, come on,” Taehyung urges, pulling Jeongguk’s wrist until he’s sitting up. He leans back on his heels, standing up with a jump before he disappears into his room for the second time since he’s been back. Jeongguk, confused and alone, lets the pout in his lips reign free, only to school it down into pursed lips when Taehyung stumbles back into the room again. “You’re not allowed to mope around anymore.”

He frowns as he watches Taehyung move, but doesn't take notice of the things in his hands until he's letting them fall in front of Jeongguk's crossed legs. Which, frankly, only makes his frown deepen as he takes in the spoon before him. He doesn't have enough time to question it, though, because Taehyung is dropping down to his knees, sitting on his heels.

Then, he takes Jeongguk's painted hand between his own in an almost never ending motion. Inspecting it like it's a riddle he’s trying to solve. Like there are entire metaphors painted underneath the colors, and he brushes the cloth over them once, twice. 

“Hey, it's fine,” Jeongguk tries, clearing his throat when his voice comes out funny. “You don't have to do that.”

“I know,” is all Taehyung says, flicking his eyes up to meet Jeongguk's before he brushes the cloth again, and that's that.

Jeongguk stills ever so subtly, blinking down at the way Taehyung strokes his hand clean, bit by bit; the place between his knuckles, his wrist, his palm, so gently Jeongguk almost misses the other things he's doing–the brushing of his thumb against the side of Jeongguk's hand, almost absentmindedly, like he barely even registers that he's doing it in the first place, or the barely-there humming of whichever song he's thinking about.

The room gets darker when the sun settles into the night, and usually, Jeongguk would sprint to his feet to flick the lights on right away because he hates how dark their apartment can get, but he feels as though he can't move. The grasp of Taehyung's hand on his is the strongest it's ever been, and yet, that's not the thing keeping Jeongguk from running off.

No, this time, it has more to do with the feeling in his gut, twisting and explosive in the way it has heat coursing through his whole body all at once, burning him from the inside out in the most painless way. He takes another breath, trying to disguise the shakiness in his breath when he trails his eyes back to Taehyung's face again.

He feels a smile forming faster than he can stop it when Taehyung scrunches up his nose at a particularly difficult blotch of dry paint, scrubbing the cloth angrily over it.

“How much paint did you even use…” Taehyung complains under his breath, without breaking his focus away from his task.

It's a little bit ridiculous, the thought that pops into his head next–

Sunsets, Jeongguk thinks, are the quickest thing in the world. You blink once, just once, and the sun is gone. He's seen it happen countless times, has tried to keep his eyes open for the longest seconds so he doesn't miss any of it, and yet.

And yet, this one feels a little endless when he looks at Taehyung for a bit longer, when he watches as the rays of light cast shadows on his face, paints his skin golden where it filters through the window, tints a funny feeling in Jeongguk's heart.

It's ridiculous, he knows. Jeongguk knows there's nothing endless about time, he knows the seconds are still ticking on the crooked clock Taehyung has hanging in their kitchen, he knows that eventually, the rollercoaster always drops, and he knows that the rush surging straight out of his heart will settle down in time, but he lets himself loose all the same.

He doesn't care how timeless or fleeting this moment is, he doesn't care about how scary it is to feel this at ease with his roommate, his best friend, scrubbing dry paint off his skin, he doesn't care about how much, or how little, it means that Taehyung is the only thing he wants to sing about. Because none of that matters when Taehyung resumes his humming again, and it doesn't matter if another forever goes by because Jeongguk could recognize this song anywhere, because it's his.

Though it does take him a second–Taehyung's voice is much deeper than his, and he's not yet used to another voice singing the same words he's been obsessing over for the past month–it's only downhill from the moment Jeongguk recognizes the words. But once he finally does, it’s like, oh. 

Oh.

That’s his song. 

His tiny mess of words that he didn't feel made sense until the moment they fell from Taehyung's lips, and oh, Jeongguk hadn't realized how uncensored he'd been, how much of his own feelings he'd poured in between the lines.

And there's nothing timeless about this moment, because Jeongguk hasn't written the rest of the song, and Taehyung stops singing right when the chorus is supposed to come in.

“That's the best I can do,” he announces, pressing his lips into a thin line as he leans back.

Taehyung looks at him then, with an entire sunset in his eyes, and Jeongguk feels like if he tries hard enough, he could reach out and touch the sky, feel the sparks of color right under his fingertips.

The room is almost fully dark now, but Jeongguk finds that he doesn't mind it all that much. Taehyung is still holding his hand, though the now dirty cloth is discarded on the floor, and the sunless sky can't hurt him like this.

And it's still a little bit ridiculous–and a lot scary, though Jeongguk is ignoring that for now–how he doesn't have to think hard about his next lines, because the answer is there, staring back at him with a confused grin tugging at his lips, and Jeongguk can't help a similar one from forming on his own face, just as much as he can't help the chuckle that comes out.

“What?” Taehyung questions. “What is it, do I have something on my face?”

Jeongguk gives a shake of his head, biting down a bigger smile, but doesn't look away. Not even when Taehyung inches closer, almost as if he's trying to bump their heads together, and narrows his eyes at him.

It's the cutest fucking thing Jeongguk has ever seen, and he's one-third of a second away from falling back against the couch, hand clutching his chest because he's injured.

“If you keep staring at me like that, Gukkie, I'm gonna assume you have a crush on me.”

Jeongguk snorts, and in a moment of bravery, presses his forehead against Taehyung's. Because, again, as previously established, he is a masochist. The proximity has three different volcanoes erupting in his chest, but he bites them down with a smile.

“And what then?” he asks.

Taehyung stares at him, as much as he can with the way they're positioned together, but stares nonetheless, with enough glint in his eyes that it has anticipation building in Jeongguk's stomach.

It's somewhat of a blessing that he never got up to switch the lights on, because like this, Taehyung can't possibly see the way his face flames up, even despite how close together their faces are. But of course, pointing this out only has his cheeks burning even hotter, when he thinks about how easy it would be to kiss him like this.

All he would have to do is lean his head back, just the tiniest bit back, and he could press Taehyung’s tiny smile against his. Kiss him like he wants to, like he thinks Taehyung wants him to, too.

But he doesn't, because a) Jeongguk isn't that brave. No matter how much he likes to pretend that he is, his bark is a lot worse than his bite, and b) he would never kiss Taehyung just like that, never without asking if he wants it–and if he wants them, too–first.

But he's not brave enough to ask, and so you see his problem.

Jeongguk only notices that they're still holding hands when Taehyung lets go, and he's about to complain, about to reach out and grab his hand again when something cold lands across his cheek, dripping down his face as Taehyung leans back and barks out a laugh. 

He scoffs, feeling nothing but betrayal when the smell of paint hits him, and doesn’t wait another second before he’s dipping a finger into the bucket of paint, smearing it somewhere over Taehyung’s face. It lands on his nose, and that only has another laugh bubbling out into the room, this being one of Jeongguk’s own. 

And this, too, is a bit ridiculous and a lot expected. Though he knows it makes no sense, the next few moments become endless; when Taehyung throws himself at Jeongguk, painting his entire face pink, his whole heart yellow. 

– ♡ –

jeon jk

pst

what time are u coming home

best roomie of my life

around 7

why

surely you’re not missing me already

right Guk?

jeon jk

what u don’t know won’t hurt u

best roomie of my life

wow

jeon jk

lol i always miss u

but can u buy brenda’s food on ur way back?

best roomie of my life

sure

jeon jk

thanks babe

best roomie of my life

anything for you

– ♡ –

Maybe Taehyung was right.

Maybe, Jeongguk shouldn’t be as nervous as he currently was, tapping his foot on the floor to the beat of his song. One, two. One, two. His nails digging into his palm, eyes locked on his best friend. 

Maybe, just maybe, this was pointless. He knows the song isn’t half bad. He knows that Seokmin knows the song isn’t half bad, he even said it himself. Besides, this was far from being the first time he was showing him something he’d been working on, so yes. Honestly, he really shouldn’t be this nervous. 

This, however, does nothing to ease Jeongguk’s nerves. 

Not even when Seokmin bops his head to the beat, a smile taking over his lips when he leans over the desk to grab Jeongguk’s pad. The song keeps playing loudly all over the little semblance of a studio they could build as two overworked college students. Seokmin spins in his chair, letting out a loud woo as the beat picks up, and he starts bobbing his head so fast Jeongguk starts to worry about his neck. 

“This is good!” Seokmin says, lifting a thumbs up in the air as his chair keeps spinning, and Jeongguk can’t help the loud snort that flies past him at that.

It isn’t long until his own voice comes through the speaker, raw and unedited, but still good. Jeongguk keeps himself from patting himself on the back. For how hard it was on him to even start this song, he really didn’t do that bad of a job. He thinks he can be proud of himself for that. 

The last line comes as Jeongguk sets his own hand over his knee to stop it from bouncing anxiously, and Seokmin’s chair comes to a halt almost on cue. Then, the room falls quiet–nothing but a long, unchanging static noise between them that ends as soon as Seokmin leans over to plug the aux cord off the speaker. He schools his expression down into one Jeongguk knows is feigned, and sighs.

“Wow,” is all he says, trying to keep his act. But a smile breaks through his stone-cold look all the same, and he snorts through his next breath, “It’s good! A lot cheesier than I expected it to be, but so, so good, Guk.”

Jeongguk shrugs, “It’s Valentine’s Day,” he explains. “I figured it had to be all–happy and shit. Lovey-dovey, you know?”

His friend’s eyes almost double in size as another snort leaves him, and Jeongguk feels his neck burn hot under his turtleneck. 

“Oh, yes. Absolutely, I can see there’s a lot of happy-and-shit here. Way more than I thought you were capable of, dude, no wonder you were struggling so much.”

Seokmin says it like it’s obvious, through a laugh and light-heartedly, like he doesn’t have a single doubt that that’s the thing Jeongguk was losing his mind over. And well, granted, he isn’t entirely wrong. While he did have a hard time with the words, Jeongguk knew exactly the image he wanted to paint, the feelings he wanted to describe. 

After all, he’s been feeling them for quite some time now. 

Jeongguk chuckles. He could lie. He could brush it off as just that, move onto the next arrangements, talk about which synths to choose. 

If anything, he should lie. 

Yes, he’s going to lie. 

He opens his mouth to reply, only to close it again when he remembers that he sucks at lying, and doing so will only give it away sooner. Plus, he shouldn’t anyway. There’s nothing wrong with Seokmin knowing; it’s not like he’s going to run off and tell Taehyung, even if he doesn’t know that it’s about Taehyung. 

But then again, Jeongguk kind of doesn’t want to tell him. Not because he doesn’t trust him, but because, if Seokmin knows, then there’s no way Jeongguk can deny it to himself any longer, and that’s just not how he runs stuff around here. 

Jeongguk tries again. 

Seokmin is his best friend, and well, Jeongguk knows he won’t force him to admit it or drop a name if he really doesn’t want to, but he also knows that Seokmin won’t need much to figure it out anyway. There’s a reason he’s been at the top of their class for the past three years in a row, and Jeongguk has always been entirely too jealous of that. 

He must take too long to decide though, because Seokmin is frowning, a look of confusion taking over him before his lips break out into a silent oh, and well–

There goes that.

Oh is accurate, actually, but it’s also enough for him to realize that he’s not ready for oh just yet. 

So, Jeongguk tries.

“No.”

Well, he kind of tries. 

“Oh, Guk... ” Seokmin starts, drifting his eyes down to the screen again, and though he tries to bite down his next smirk, Jeongguk catches it all the same. “Oh, Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk.”

“Listen, Min–”

“Please enlighten me. Who’s this person that you, uh–” his eyes drift back down to the screen for a split second, and he squints, clearing his throat a total of three times before he adds, “Yes, and I quote, makes you feel a little higher, huh, Guk?”

Jeongguk tries to retort. He really, really does. But the words never finish forming in his throat, and the next thing he knows, he’s mumbling out a broken, “That’s not–I mean, I didn’t–” and Seokmin’s smirk does nothing but grow. 

“Ah, I see. Now tell me, is it someone we know? Oh, oh, is it someone I know?” he continues, the teasing in his eyes shining a lot brighter than before as his tone rises in excitement. “Is it, maybe, you know someone with a surname Kim, first name Taehyung?”

“That wasn’t funny the first three times you’ve said it,” Jeongguk snarks with a roll of his eyes, reaching out to snatch the pad from Seokmin’s hands.

“Don’t need your approval. I’m my own target audience.” 

Seokmin shrugs, and Jeongguk shakes his head again.

He avoids Jeongguk’s struggles easily, hiding it behind his back before pressing it against the backrest of his chair. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, folding his arms back into himself, pressing back a whine. 

“Now come on, tell me it’s Tae, please. Please.”

“Stop,” Jeongguk warns him, despite the heat rising up his neck at the thought. “We’re just roommates.”

“See, what I’m hearing is: we already live together, dating wouldn’t change much between us,” Seokmin shrugs, like it’s the most obvious reasoning in the world. “Now, go. Tell me.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I’m not going to.”

There’s a nod, and Jeongguk watches as Seokmin purses his lips, fingers tapping the sides of his chin. 

“But why? Come on, you know you feel it, I know you feel it, so tell me, why–”

“Because you’re wrong, and this conversation is pointless and not about this anyway, so. We should really focus. We only have a couple of weeks left.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes at that, and he makes his distaste clear when he huffs out a, “Fine,” but turns back to the computer in front of him either way.

“And–!” Jeongguk adds, turning back to point a finger at him, because he’s never been the best at leaving well enough alone. “For the record, being roommates is exactly why I should keep these feelings to myself!”

It’s nothing but instant, the way Seokmin’s entire face lights up, Jeongguk’s own flushing in return just as quickly. 

“Okay, no. Before you–”

“So I was right!” Seokmin cuts him off, the corners of his lips almost reaching all the way to his ears with how big he’s smiling. “There are feelings!”

“No! You’re–no!” Jeongguk splutters, though uselessly. “There are no feelings. None at all. What even are feelings, anyway, hm?”

“Mhm-hmm.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything else, simply crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at Jeongguk, his amusement clear as day. Jeongguk resists the urge to huff again, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, fine. Whatever, I might like him, alright? Stop looking at me like that.”

“You might,” he repeats. “Mhm-hmm.”

This time, Jeongguk lets out a huff under his breath. And it’s at this moment that he gives up, leaning back into the backrest of his chair, and he sighs. “Fine. I like him a lot. Enough to write a song about him even if it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he likes someone, so.” Jeongguk says with a nod, though it’s mostly to himself. 

Seokmin frowns. “What? No he doesn’t.”

“Uh, yes he does?” Jeongguk retorts, “I heard him ordering something for Valentine’s! And when I asked he just got all red and refused to tell me who it was for.”

It’s true. Jeongguk had been trying to figure it out all week, even looking over Taehyung’s shoulders at times, but Taehyung had been extremely adamant in keeping it a secret, turning the lighting of his screen so low Jeongguk wondered how he even managed to see anything at all. 

“What if it’s for you?” Seokmin offers. “I mean, did you ever consider that?”

Jeongguk scoffs. 

“We really are just roommates, Min. It’s most likely that he has a secret boyfriend or something.”

Seokmin, however, seems to not like that answer, if the groan he lets out is anything to go by, and he mumbles something like, “Pretty sure everybody thinks that’s just you,” but Jeongguk doesn’t have the energy to disagree anymore, so he lets it be. 

He knows Taehyung and him are just friends, that has been painfully clear ever since he first noticed the tiny (right) crush on his roommate and yes, Jeongguk watches all of Taehyung’s favorite shows and cuts his holidays short so that he wouldn’t be all alone at the dorms, but that’s just what good roommates do (right?) and yes, they adopted a pet lizard together but it was only because they were walking past the store and neither of them are very good at not spending money on things they don’t technically need–but, yes, they are just roommates, and while Jeongguk wouldn’t mind living with him for the rest of his life, he knows friends is all they will ever be. 

He knows that, and yet. 

And yet, his chest aches a little when he thinks about Taehyung going out with someone that isn’t him. 

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because Seokmin is spinning in his chair again, sliding it closer to Jeongguk, before he gives him a puzzled look. “It could be you, you know.”

Jeongguk breathes out a drawn-out sigh, sinking into his chair in resignation. 

“Min… I want you to be right too, but–”

“I’ve heard him call you babe before!” he argues.

Jeongguk gives a shake of his head. “That’s an acronym we made up. It stands for Best Absolute Bro Ever because Taehyung will never love me back and I’m going to die alone.”

The look on Seokmin’s face only grows confused at that, and he blinks once, slowly, almost as if he's trying to fully process it before giving up and just nodding. It’s almost funny, or it would be. If Jeongguk’s heart wasn’t bending over backwards in his chest, he’s sure he would be laughing at his best friend’s face right about now, but you can’t always have everything.

Seokmin, however, wants to have everything, and so he tries again. “Okay, well. You guys have a lizard child.”

“Because we live together!” Jeongguk repeats, cheeks puffing out into an exasperated huff. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Right, of course!” he leans back on his chair, defeated, and claps his hands together before turning back to his screen. “So synths?” 

Jeongguk nods past his urge to sulk even further, sitting up on his spot, and though he tries not to, Jeongguk feels the pout on his lips jut out. 

“Synths.” 

He's most likely going to die alone, but as long as he bottles his feelings in pretty little songs, he thinks he might be just fine. 

– ♡ –

February is, objectively, the craziest month on campus.

Well, if he's being logical about it, then his first response would be May, or December, because, well. The end of the semester comes with a craze of its own, but it's a different kind of craze. While the months of final exams come with a coffee-induced kind of rush and students running one too few hours of sleep staggering around campus, February starts with festivals, serenades, shop discounts, and nothing but growing excitement buzzing around campus as the fourteenth gets closer and closer.

Valentines Day.

This year, by the looks of it, the craze got to Taehyung too.

And as far as Jeongguk knew, it wasn't because he had anyone to take out, or go to the movies with, or buy stupid tiny overpriced heart-shaped chocolates to share with.

No, no. Taehyung had been single for a while now–allegedly, that is–definitely long enough that his friends (mostly Hoseok) had tried to set him up several times before, especially during Valentine's Week, one of them (also Hoseok) even offering to pay for the date himself once. Jeongguk didn't love it, per se, but he couldn't hate it that much when he was the one sharing fried chicken and a bottle of wine with Taehyung at the end of the night, hearing all about what the other guys did or didn't do.

Granted, it only went on for a couple of weeks, until Taehyung had begged his friends to stop after four consecutive dates gone wrong, leaving Jeongguk questioning Hoseok's taste in men as a whole, and also with a pretty good insight on what Taehyung looked for in a guy. Which, honestly, back then meant nothing to him. A year ago, Jeongguk hadn't been aware of his feelings towards Taehyung, so he'd brushed it off as simple wine talk. But now–

Now, that knowledge feels like a goldmine.

Because Jeongguk knows pretty much everything about him now. He knows that Taehyung likes tea better than coffee, and he knows how toasted he likes his bread to be. He knows that he thinks Shakespeare is overrated, but that he acknowledges his impact in literature. He knows that he doesn't like sacrificing comfort for looks (so you'll never catch him in tight clothing) and that his favorite thing to do during long car rides is finding funny little words on car plates. He knows Taehyung loves baking even though he's not very good at it, but that he keeps doing it because homemade bread can't defeat me, Jeongguk.

So, yes. He knows.

But that's the thing about falling in love with the person closest to you in the world–you know so much that it feels as though you know nothing at all. Because Jeongguk has never seen Taehyung the way he does now, he's never had to think and overthink about every little thing Taehyung does until now, making him spiral into endless loops of could that mean...? and no, he would never like me like that.

Now, Jeongguk can't help but have his stomach twisting up in a million different knots whenever Taehyung is around.

He blames Seokmin for it.

But also this whole entire month.

They're not even a week into February and he's already had three people come up to him to sell him things to confess with–all the way from a bouquet of roses to store coupons, for some reason. And, well, not that Jeongguk was planning on doing the confession thing anytime soon, but after walking past a bakery with forty-five percent off on his favorite cake, he actually started to consider it.

Just for a few moments, weighing the pros and the cons in his head for only a couple of minutes before resuming his walk. On one hand, if your favorite cake goes from costing twenty-something thousand won to barely over nine thousand, you take it. It’s practically free, so Jeongguk didn’t have to think that hard about that one. But on the other hand, he really wanted the vacuum he and Taehyung were saving up for. 

So in the end, because Jeongguk was a strong man, and because mini robot that does the things he didn’t want–or had time–to do beats dessert, he kept on walking, saying no to temptation right in its face. 

Taehyung though, apparently was not as strong.

“Hyung…”

Then again, Jeongguk probably shouldn’t even be surprised. Capitalism had a gorilla grip on his wallet, and Taehyung almost never won.

It's why they have a pet lizard to begin with, but it never fails to take him aback. Even now, when he’d been almost waiting for it, he can't do anything but laugh when Taehyung walks in with a bright pink box bigger than his own head. 

“Wow,” Jeongguk sighs, making his way to the counter. 

“Shut up,” Taehyung fires back, letting his head hang back as his eyes fall closed, a pout tugging at his lips. “Don't look at me, I am ashamed.”

But Jeongguk does look at him, long and hard, allowing the smile tugging at his lips to reign free across his face, feeling the amusement tingling at his chest as he leans over the counter, and glances down at it–because there, perfectly placed inside the box, sits the cake Jeongguk spent a solid four minutes drooling over.

“Wow,” he says again.

He considers teasing him, feels the comment sit at the tip of his tongue, but then he takes another look at Taehyung, and his heart poofs straight out of his chest. Oh. Oh no. He's still doing that thing with his face, where it's all scrunched up and pretty much the sweetest thing Jeongguk's ever seen, and he feels it. He feels the warmth in his heart grow, even reaching the very pit of his stomach when it hits him that oh, this is gonna happen a lot now.

This, of course, being that he’s going to dissolve into a puddle of nothing but feelings and embarrassment whenever Taehyung so much as breathes. 

Jeongguk isn't even that upset about it, he just wishes he could hide it a little better.

So he forces his eyes back down to the cake before Taehyung can pick up on the flush quickly spreading all over his face, and he focuses on the tiny carrots decorating the top of the cake, only then noticing the small card at the side of it. 

Give this to someone you love. 

“Listen, I couldn't just not buy it.” Taehyung begins to explain.

Jeongguk can hardly hear any of the words he’s saying, what with the giant knot in his throat, one he chokes out almost immediately. He tries to cover it up with a strangled laugh, though he doesn’t dare look up at Taehyung to see if he buys it. 

It's far too early, the sun is still out. Taehyung wouldn't even need to try to notice how red Jeongguk's face is.

“I know I promised to not make any hasty decisions, but in my defense, I saw the ad weeks ago so I ordered it on impulse and then I remembered that deal, but wait–! Before you get mad at me and stop talking to me for the next three hours, this was like, half the price? So again, I couldn't not buy it, and since this is, like, your favorite bakery and we're spending Valentine's together anyway, I figured we could–”

He’s in the middle of reaching out for the card when he hears it, and it’s almost comical, the way his hand halts in the air, the way his brain powers off entirely. Like he’s the train on his merry way to the top of the rollercoaster and then bam, his brain malfunctions mid-course and hundreds of little people start screaming. 

“What did you say?”

Though in this scenario, the screaming almost never stops. 

He couldn’t have heard that right. They weren’t spending Valentine’s Day together, Jeongguk would have known if they were, right? Besides, Taehyung had plans with someone else–Jeongguk heard him! 

He had proof.  

Well, not exactly. But he had a pretty solid hypothesis, and sometimes that was good enough. 

“That it's practically free?” Taehyung repeats, confusion settling between his brows. “What? It is!”

Jeongguk shakes his head, his skin burns. “No, no. Before that. That we’re–that you. Aren’t you going out with someone?”

“And leave you here all alone? I don’t think so,” Taehyung replies through a scoff. 

“But I thought. I mean, with Jaehyun, you said–”

Taehyung lets out a sound close to a giggle, and Jeongguk physically feels his heart squeeze in his chest, in a way that shouldn't hurt but that kinda does, because he's pretty sure that he's dying. That’s right. He is dying. 

“I was just messing with you,” he says. “Jaehyun’s hot, sure, but he’s not my type. I don’t think drummers really do it for me, you know? Guitars are way cooler.”

Though he’s two seconds away from crying, Jeongguk lets himself snort, grabbing the card with a quick snap. 

Drums ain’t shit. Jaehyun can suck it. 

“Besides,” Taehyung adds, leaning over the counter between them. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with, you know that.”

There’s a smug grin tugging at Taehyung’s lips, reaching almost all the way to his very eyes, the sunniest glint filling them as his grin grows. Jeongguk wants to wipe it off. Press his hands against it until it disappears completely. Or preferably with his own mouth, maybe. No. What? No.

“So,” Jeongguk says, his voice dropping down to a whisper, fingers playing with the card in his hand. “You love me?”

He doesn’t notice it then, and later, he will kick himself for only focusing on the yelp Taehyung chokes out, how big his eyes get when snaps back at Jeongguk with a scandalized glint in them. But he doesn’t notice the way his ears flush red almost instantly, the way his voice shakes when he says, 

“What?”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, simply turning the card in his hands, watching as Taehyung takes in the words spelt in cursive pastel letters, to someone you love. 

“Oh,” Taehyung says through a chuckle. “The lady at the store thought I was confessing to someone.” 

But Taehyung doesn’t pull away like Jeongguk expects him to. Instead, he leans in, resting his elbows on the counter, mirroring Jeongguk’s own position, and he reaches out to play with the sleeves of Jeongguk’s hoodie, twisting it between his fingers, eyes locked on the movement. 

“I figured that was better than telling her what’s really happening, so.”

It’s these kinds of moments that have Jeongguk spiraling into overthinking territory; when Taehyung gets so close Jeongguk could count the moles on his face if he wanted to. When they’re close enough that he could reach out and touch the one below his lip, or the one on the tip of his nose, his cheekbone, right under his eye. 

And Jeongguk wants to. 

He wants to lean in and press his lips against them, trace forever onto Taehyung’s honeyed skin, press kisses to his cheeks, his lips. 

But Jeongguk doesn’t do any of those things. 

Instead, he hums out a, “Hm?” in question, eyes locked on Taehyung’s every move.

“Yeah, like–” he starts, the smile on his lips almost unsure. “Taking advantage of their promo to eat this with my best friend?” 

Because the knot in his stomach is still far too big for him to handle, and though he’s not that scared to get on this ride, or get stuck mid-course, he knows this is the kind of crash he won’t survive, and yet. 

And yet, he doesn’t jump off when Taehyung finally looks back at him, and his eyes tell a thousand stories in the split of a second; and it’s right? and what…? and oh, all at once. 

And yet, he doesn’t move at all when Taehyung inches closer to him, just the tiniest bit closer, and Jeongguk can’t do anything but catch his breath. He sees the way Taehyung’s eyes drop to his lips, if only for half a moment, and feels the nerves settling in his stomach, remembers the million reasons why he shouldn’t do this, and yet. 

And yet, he says, “Well, I love you.”

It's out in a quiet, almost whispered breath, and it takes another second for him to breathe again; because he said it, the words he promised himself he'd never utter, because Taehyung is still looking at him, because Jeongguk feels the world around them stop.

Because just like that, he's stuck in the middle of the ride, and all he can do is scream.

Though Jeongguk hardly cares if he plummets to his death right now, because Taehyung is still holding onto him, and this is still the closest they've ever been, even though there's a whole counter between them, a cake they should probably move right next to them.

The grip on Jeongguk's sleeve softens, and Taehyung lets out another laugh. “I mean, of course I love you too, dummy,” he says, a gentle grin spreading on his lips. “You're my best friend.”

And just like that, Jeongguk free falls.

“Right?”

Jeongguk nods past the knot in his throat, chokes out the laugh that burns its way out, says, “Right. Of course.”

He's about to pull away, jump off this ride and never look back, but it's then that Taehyung's grip tightens, almost as if he's holding onto Jeongguk for dear life, keeping him in place.

“Actually, wait. There's something I wanted to tell you, um–” Taehyung stops, his eyes falling close as he chooses his next words. “Guk, I’m–”

But of course it dies there, whatever he was going to say next, because Jeongguk's phone goes off, and Taehyung is flinching away before Jeongguk can even register what's happened. Taehyung clears his throat as he does so.

“I'm gonna go–uh, shower. I should shower,” he rushes to explain.

Jeongguk can't even bring himself to reply before Taehyung sprints out of the room, the door slamming closed behind him, and Jeongguk just sort of, stands there. With his phone buzzing in his pocket, the loud tune to Livin' On A Prayer blasting loudly because of course (of course!) today is the one day he decides to take his phone off silent.

He just never wins.

He absolutely never does.

Begrudgingly, Jeongguk yanks his phone free, glancing at the screen for only long enough to catch the big, white letters spelling out lead pain in my ass before he's swiping his thumb across the screen, lowering his voice down to a groan when he says, “What do you want?”

“Jeez, someone's in a bad mood.”

Jeongguk closes his eyes, burying his face on the crook of his elbow. “Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just–It's me, Min.”

“I know, man. I called you, remember?”

If Jeongguk's blood pressure wasn't literally about to skyrocket and simultaneously give himself a heart attack, a stroke, and an aneurysm all at once, he's sure he would have hung up by now already.

“Do you remember the other day in the studio, I said Taehyung bought something for Valentines and you said it could be for me?”

“Yeah?”

Jeongguk turns to check that the bathroom door remains closed. Then, when he hears the shower running, he continues. “You were right, it was for me. Well, us. But for me!”

“God, who could've seen that coming,” Seokmin says, the pettiness clear in his tone. “But anyway, what happened next?”

Seokmin doesn't even wait for Jeongguk's awkward silence to fall. He doesn't wait for Jeongguk's hesitant uhh to finish forming on his tongue.

“Oh fuck, did you…”

“Well, I might've told him I loved him,” Jeongguk tells him through a huff. “And he said it back? Maybe. I mean he did, technically, but–”

The shriek that Seokmin lets out cuts him off right away, and it's so loud that Jeongguk actually has to move the phone away from his ear. He always knew his friend loved to be right, but damn.

“Please stop, he basically friend-zoned me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he said it’s ‘cause I'm his best friend, so. There goes that, I guess.” Jeongguk whines.

“Well, did you tell him how you feel?” Seokmin asks, “Like, straight-on. Like, ‘hey, Tae! I’m in love with you’?”

Still, regardless of the ringing in his ear, Jeongguk lets a snort breakthrough, and the faintest hint of anticipation springs begins to settle at the pit of his stomach.

“Of course I didn’t!” Jeongguk complains in a whisper, “I’m not a masochist, Min. I’m not gonna confess if I know he doesn’t feel like that.”

“But you don’t know!”

“But he said–”

“–But you don’t know,” Seokmin repeats, and Jeongguk falls quiet at that. “You’re just assuming that because it’s safer than actually putting yourself out there. But we all know you’ve got a shit gut, Guk. You’re almost never right about these things.”

He hates that Seokmin has a point. He hates that it’s not even remotely hard to prove that he’s right. In just the last couple of weeks, Jeongguk’s gut told him that he’d never forget the melody in his head (and he did), and that his food wouldn’t burn if he just waited a couple more minutes (and it did), and that Taehyung’s secret Valentine’s order wasn’t for him (and it was).

Jeongguk huffs. “You’re not not wrong.”

“Of course I’m not,” Seokmin says confidently. Then, he adds, though much softer, “So, is it safe to assume that you know what to do, then?”

“Um, well–”

“Jeongguk!”

“What if he says no?!” he whines, panic making his voice higher.

“I’ll strangle you.”

Jeongguk considers it for a second. Then shrugs, “Yeah, okay. That works.”

In the next minutes that follow, Jeongguk does a number of things. First, as soon as Seokmin hangs up, he throws his phone away like he’s been burnt, jumping up and down a few times to calm his nerves. 

It’s fine. He’ll be fine. All he has to do is tell him. 

And then, well, whatever happens, it can’t be that bad. Probably. 

Well, hopefully. 

Oh God. What if it does go bad? What if Taehyung turns him down and then he has no choice but to move out? He doesn’t have a backup home, nor does he have enough money to pay for a security deposit. He’s gonna end up in the streets, that’s for sure. And what about Brenda? Who gets her if they have to stop rooming together? Oh, Jeongguk wonders if she’ll miss him. 

He manages to sit himself down on a chair, focusing on Brenda rather than the heart that feels as though it’s two seconds away from sprinting out of his chest. From her tank, Brenda blinks at him, her tiny head almost tilting to the side. It makes it look like she’s smiling at him, and weirdly enough, that does make him feel a little better. 

It's when he's in the middle of descending into another fit of nerves that Taehyung emerges from the room again, dressed in red and yellow pajamas that shouldn't look good, but that he pulls off somehow. Usually, if it were any other day, where Jeongguk wasn't literally about to throw up from the nerves in his stomach, he would be teasing the hell out of him.

He can see the scene play out in his head: Jeongguk would say something about how it's barely even 7 PM, or maybe something like, hey, Ronald McDonald called? He says he wants his outfit back, and Taehyung would snark something back like, Bite me, Guk. You wish you could feel as comfy as I do.

And Jeongguk, well. He would have no choice but to agree.

But now, with his heart beating halfway out of his chest already, all he can do is stare.

And then stare some more.

Until he notices the way Taehyung shifts in his place from one foot to the other, almost as if he's hesitating to even stay there, and he notices the awkward air settling around them, and Jeongguk hates it so much that all he wants to do is run as far away as he can from it.

But he doesn't, and he won't. Because Seokmin was right. He has been playing it safe, and while he wouldn't mind doing it for a little while longer, he would also really like to know what it's like up there–up where he's not scared of telling Taehyung how he feels, up where maybe, just maybe, Taehyung could love him back. Up with the goddamn clouds.

And that alone is enough for now, which is why he takes a deep breath, and he says, “Listen, Tae. About earlier…”

“I lied,” Taehyung cuts him off, his next breath catching in his throat as if he surprised even himself. But still, he adds, “About the best friend thing. I lied.”

What?

“What?”

“I mean, you are my best friend and I do love you, so that part is true. But that's not all,” Taehyung closes his eyes then, bringing his hands together in front of him before he continues, “I didn't correct the lady at the store because I wanted her to be right. And I was planning to tell you with the cake, but then you–you looked at me and I panicked and, well, now we're here.”

“Okay?” Jeongguk begins tentatively, though the frown settles between his brows either way. “Where are we exactly though, because I’m a little bit confused.”

“Sorry, just. Um, give me a second?” Taehyung spins in his heels, rushing back into his room only to come flying out of it a second later, crushing a piece of paper in his hands. “I wrote like seven of these so I could do this properly.”

Jeongguk slowly rises to his feet as he tries to understand what’s happening despite the ringing in his ears, like he’s hearing Taehyung speak but the words don’t make sense at all. 

“I was gonna tape one of these to the box but then I couldn’t decide which one, and then it felt dumb, so I just–” Taehyung fumbles with the pages in his hands, clearing his throat again before he continues, “That’s not important. Anyway, um, are you ready?”

Honestly? Probably not. But Jeongguk goes for a nod anyway, albeit hesitatingly, “Yes?”

Because he doesn’t know what Taehyung is about to say next, even though he thinks he has a pretty good hunch, he refuses to let himself think of that as anything else but a dream. 

For all he knows, Taehyung could be trying to tell him that he’s about to die. 

“I have loved you for two years, seven months and twenty–fuck, wait. I meant to throw this one away. Forget I said anything, hang on.”

And Jeongguk, well–he’s just trying to breathe, honestly. His first thought goes something like holy shit, but it quickly morphs into an incoherent holy shit?, before it’s just, sort of, garbled screaming all over his head. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems oblivious to Jeongguk’s struggle, and he shakes his head again, as if trying to reboot and start over, crushing the paper in his hand before throwing it over his shoulder. 

“Jeon Jeongguk,” he starts again, only to interrupt himself right away, “That’s so dramatic, oh God.”

The desperation in his voice has a laugh bubbling out of Jeongguk, and though it’s only a small one, it tints his own nerves into waves of giddiness. Still, Taehyung doesn’t spare him a glance, not even when Jeongguk takes a step closer to him, and the next one, and the next one after that, until he’s basically standing right under his nose, calling out a soft, 

“Tae.”

Taehyung, though, pays him no mind. Frowning down at the scraps of paper as he flips through them roughly. He huffs, and then finally, finally looks back at him. It can’t be for longer than a handful of seconds, but it has Taehyung visibly relaxing, hands falling to his sides. 

“I'm in love with you, Guk,” he lets out in a breath, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I've been in love with you pretty much since you first moved in. I was terrified of living alone after Yoongi-hyung moved out and the universe–”

“Hoseok-hyung,” Jeongguk corrects.

“–brought you to me, with your gigantic eyes and your pretty disturbing fun facts, to be honest, but I love them and I love you, and I remember the exact moment I looked at you and thought: wow, he really is something else. It was two weeks after you first moved in and I couldn't sleep and we’d barely said three words to each other the entire time, but you still offered to keep me company.”

Jeongguk remembers that night. It had taken him a solid thirty-five minutes of pacing around his room to convince himself to go out there, only to take another twenty figuring out what he would even say. In the end, he'd opted to just casually sit by Taehyung's side, close enough to make him know that he was there for him, but keeping a safe distance.

“So you sat next to me and you told me about the intro to biology class you had that day. You talked about bacteria reproducing for almost an hour straight and I retrained absolutely nothing about it but I remember thinking that you had the prettiest smile I'd ever seen. And I've loved you since then.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply, but the words never make it anywhere. His mind is filled with a thousand different versions of what? and this can't be happening and are you sure? but none of those things is the thing he wants to say next.

Because above all the noise, there's always something that surfaces over it all, loud and clear.

I love you too.

“You are the best part about coming home,” Taehyung continues, pressing his eyes closed, and the panic in his voice returns when he says, “I know this is selfish of me, and I'm sorry if this ruins things between us but I just can't keep pretending that I'm anything else but just completely stupid about you.”

“Tae,” Jeongguk calls, his voice coming out in honeyed waves of sounds.

But Taehyung keeps his eyes shut, and he braces himself for a hit that isn’t coming when he says, “Listen, if you never want to speak to me again after this, I'll understand, so just–hit me with it. I can take it.”

“Taehyung.”

It's only when Jeongguk reaches out to take Taehyung's hand into his own that he squints one eye open, almost warily. “Yeah?”

“I'm going to kiss you now,” Jeongguk says, his skin buzzing like he's ten feet up in the air, and yet he never leaves the ground. “If that's okay.”

And he doesn't know if Taehyung's nod comes before or after he's closing the gap between them, but Jeongguk finds that he hardly cares because everything after their lips meet happens in a blur, like the easiest fall of his life–it's everything he hoped it would be, and yet nothing he could have ever seen coming, though he doubts he was ever going to be ready for the feeling of Taehyung's lips on his anyway.

You see, Jeongguk has thought about kissing him enough times to know what to expect. He's pictured this scenario in a thousand different ways, with a thousand different outcomes.

But now, when it finally, finally happens, it's brief, and yet it isn't; nothing but a handful of seconds that feel as though two forevers go by before Jeongguk’s pulling away to catch his breath.

And his heart sings.

“I love you too,” he murmurs once the buzzing in his chest settles down, if only in the slightest bit, and the smile that spreads across his lips is one that almost hurts, but Jeongguk pays it no mind. “In case it wasn't painfully obvious by now, I am so, so ridiculously in love with you.”

It's slow, the way Taehyung's eyes flutter open, hiding entire skies behind those lashes, and it's pink, and blue, and yellow and oh, so pretty. Always so pretty.

Jeongguk feels as though he could look at him forever, though he doesn't know how long that would last because Taehyung is smiling then, wide and bright as it always is, sending Jeongguk's heart into overdrive as it always does.

And silently, Jeongguk asks, is this okay? Do you really want this?

And apparently, Taehyung does, because the next smile that tugs at his lips is one he presses against Jeongguk’s own, and he’s kissing him again, though this time it’s a lot more fervently, and it's a good thing that Taehyung loves him back because Jeongguk doesn’t think he could ever live without this–

Lips that slot against his ever so softly, a hand that finds its way to Jeongguk’s nape, pulling him impossibly closer in a kiss that has his skin buzzing; a boy that makes him feel nothing but high. 

And yet, though he knows this rush is supposed to run out, that these kinds of highs leave as fast as they come, Jeongguk doesn’t think he’ll ever stand on ground again.