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“You need a theme song,” Yuna noona tells Taehyung after his first breakup. Taehyung remembers laughing it off because what good would a theme song do, right? Taehyung tells her she’s been watching too much of that Ally McBeal stuff and she should just focus on her lawyering instead of ooga-chakaing her life away waiting for her real-life Robert Downey, Jr. counterpart. But somewhere between hearing the show’s soundtrack, the theme Searchin’ My Soul by Vonda Shepard, being played over and over again and Taehyung’s growing annoyance over how his first relationship went down, he starts scrolling through his music app and chances upon the perfect song. It makes him stop clicking Next. Not because it’s a comprehensive retelling of his first relationship, which passes off as a fairy tale but was actually the most cliche high school romance. But because the song just reminds him of her. Some lines, the whole vibe. He plays it again when it first ends, and he loses count after that. At some point, he sings along and catharsis screams into his make-believe mic. Yuna noona was right all along.
-o-
Several failed relationships later, Taehyung wonders if his biggest mistake was holding on too tightly or letting go too soon. But he knows, for sure, he should have chucked that red book into the trash bin when he had the chance, instead of cradling it in his arms like a long-lost child and then opening it like some kind of Pandora’s box.
It may well have been the Kraken itself unleashed.
He is on the last leg of his packing journey. So ready to move out of the leveled-up closet space he called home for most of his years at university. His old life filling cardboard boxes stacked one on top of the other, threatening to burst open at the slightest nudge. So, he leaves them where he has filled them--at the foot of his bed, beside empty bookshelves, by his clothes drawer. It still amazes him how much he has accumulated over the last few years. Most of which he will probably take with him. Some of it, he will have to leave behind. It gives him a feeling that is neither heavy nor light. Just a bit unhinged, unmade. The entire scenario resembles a brick model waiting to be put together when in fact, it’s a symbol for a whole life that has been dismantled. And maybe it’s about to come loose even further.
He finds it stashed in the back of a tiny closet he uses for towels and linens, resting peacefully on a bed of bundled letters, opened and unopened. A gift from Jisoo when she decided, after much teasing and egging on from the people around them, that they should be a couple. And they were a picture-perfect couple. The captain of the basketball team in his junior year and the head cheerleader. She was the prettiest and most popular girl and he, the star player and ace student.
Between their schoolwork, their extra-curricular activities, and their own sets of friends, they spent very little time together except for school events and parties where they always made it a point to show up together, Jisoo the perfect arm candy flanked by Taehyung the poster boyfriend. Taehyung always felt apologetic that they rarely went on private dates, never found it odd that she didn’t complain. But she always asked for love letters. Taehyung wrote a lot of them to make up for the time he cannot spend with her. She read them aloud in front of her friends. But Taehyung later learned that those she didn’t read aloud, she never opened. And after Taehyung spent the summer break with his grandparents in Daegu, he came back to her beautifully draped over the hunky Thai transferee whose name she couldn’t even pronounce.
After that, Taehyung vowed to write letters only to himself.
She gets the first page in the red book. A photo of them post-game. They probably look good together if Taehyung hadn’t put a sticker on her face. He’s not proud of it, and a year later when he tried to remove it, her face came off, too. Well, Taehyung figured, the whole relationship was about putting on a face anyway, and the photo was a fitting representation of how it all ended.
Track 1: The Lucky One
Taehyung storms out of the room, pushing the door so forcefully without really looking. The action is met with a thud and a howl, “Awww, fuck!”
“Shit, man, I’m sorry!” Taehyung panics at the sight of a boy clad in black with one hand covering half his face, blood dripping from where the door had split the skin on his forehead.
The boy is pale and looking very disoriented. “S’okay, s’okay, it’s nothing,” he says more to himself than to Taehyung or the thin crowd that gathered around them. “Yeah, of course, it’s nothing. But let’s get you checked and cleaned up anyway, okay?” Taehyung replies just the same, shooing the students milling about, gently guiding the boy by the elbow away from them.
He’s glad he had his gym bag and he hasn’t been to practice. He takes out his fresh towel and presses it on the boy’s forehead as he walks him to the school clinic. One arm going around the boy to steady him.
Foreheads are shit for wounds. Bleeders. Taehyung knows this. But he still wishes the gash is smaller than it seems with the way this boy is bleeding. Taehyung pulls him closer as they walk, after sensing tiny tremors from the boy’s shoulders. He must be really shaken. Well, who wouldn’t be if you’re just quietly minding your own business and you get whacked on the forehead by a wooden door with the force of an angry, massive, and heartbroken power forward.
“You’ll be alright,” Taehyung assures him as they turn the corridor and finally enter the clinic.
“Y-you can go,” the boy tells him.
“Are you kidding?” Taehyung scoffs albeit gently. “I’m staying until I see you’re okay.”
“You don’t have to. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Look, I haven’t even properly apologized…”
“It was my fault as much as it was yours. I wasn’t looking. We’re even.”
“No, no, it’s all on me. If I wasn’t so angry…”
“If I wasn’t so clueless…”
The nurse comes to take him.
“I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He begins to protest with a tiny sound from his mouth.
“I’ll wait,” Taehyung says firmly as the nurse takes him away.
From September 3
He asks: Don’t you think you went overboard with dinner and ice cream and a walk home for an apology?
I didn’t even tell the guy I missed practice for it. But see, I felt really bad. I was my being overly dramatic self and that gave the poor guy a bloodied face and some forehead stitches. Also, how do I say it was worth it to hear him laugh--it was so funny!--and to see his face sans the blood.
He’s pretty.
And I’ve never seen anyone smile with their whole face like that--doe eyes lighting up and crinkling, nose scrunching, lips breaking into a grin so wide his teefies look like they’ll pop right out.
He reminds me of a bunny, this little one.
So, he just transferred. That’s why I haven’t seen him around. He and that Thai dude--argh! Of all people. But whatever. He and Jisoo probably belong together. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I’m gay. That should have been the end of the discussion.
So bunny boy and Jisoo’s new boy, their dads work together. They move around a lot. Must be tough to always have to start over. And to move on after. The stay should be at least worth the while.
Still, it must be tough to leave pieces of your heart in so many places. I just have mine in two and it sometimes drives me nuts.
Can’t imagine what it must be like for this bunny boy who just turned 18 and has lived in 5 cities already! It’s probably fun, too, when you get to it. But getting there and leaving it all behind probably isn’t. And to have to do that over and over.
I hope he has a solid time here. No matter how long he’s staying for.
I hope he makes it to the game on Friday, too. I’ll ask him tomorrow. Meeting him after class to show him around campus and then to play Overwatch.
Oh, and going back to Jisoo... So that’s how it went down after months of being together. With me barging into her study group (where I find her huddling with that dude) and me dropping the break-up letter on her desk and then telling her that’s the last letter I’ll ever write for her and I never want to speak with her again. And me storming out of the room, my flair for dramatics in full display, and then hitting bunny boy smack on the forehead. And you know the rest.
She didn’t even run after me. Or maybe she did. I never noticed. Because like I said, I slammed the door on a little bunny’s forehead.
But, yeah, that’s how I met Jeon Jungkook. (And also how Kim Jisoo and I broke up.)
Kim Jisoo: dated me for show, can’t kiss for shit (I had to teach her), took all my letters but didn’t even read them all, cheated on me with a guy whose name rhymes with Spam, may have ruined women (and Spam) for me forever.
Track 2: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together
“Hyung, do you think I can ever get my records back from Jihan?” Taehyung asks as he drops a pillowcase set into their shopping cart that Hobi had parked by the comforters.
Hobi, always bright and sunshiney, looks at Taehyung with disdain, as if he has just suggested for them to use the force on the young padawans and obliterate all of them. He wags a finger at Taehyung, his pointed eyes never leaving him. “No way in hell, Taehyung-ah. We’re never going back there. You made a promise. Not to me but…”
“I know, hyung.” Taehyung takes the cart from Hobi and begins to push it to another aisle. “It’s not like I’m backing out on that. I just want my records back.” He stops in front of a row of lamps. He picks up one that is shaped like a star and hands it to Hobi. “Will I be needing a new lamp for my room, hyung?”
Hobi examines the lamp, shrugs, and puts it back before he guides Taehyung to another aisle. “Don’t change the subject, Taehyung-ah. I’m actually worried that you’re suddenly bringing this up. Did anything happen?”
“No, not really, hyung, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures him. “Something just popped out while I was packing my stuff. Brought back memories. And it’s not like I want to be with him again. I just want my Joni Mitchells and Nina Simone back. I bet he didn’t even listen to them. He was never really interested. I know at some point I really did think I was in love. But looking back, maybe I was just in for the thrill until the ride morphed into a horror train of sorts.”
“And thank fuck you were able to jump out in time, right?” Hobi peers at Taehyung who gives a slight nod and a hum. “Taehyung-ah, is this really just about your records?” Hobi wonders out loud, growing more worried by the second. They had stumbled into the glassware section. Hobi is thinking of buying cocktail glasses but he figures he’d wait first for Taehyung’s response in case he’d want to smash something after. Thankfully, Taehyung’s response assures him that it is safe. “It was a really dark time in my life, hyung, wasn’t it? I still can’t believe I did that to myself over and over again. He didn’t even try to get to know me. And I’m just thankful I got out. Thanks to you. And.. and everyone else who pulled me out.”
“Yah, Taehyung-ah, maybe that time, we loved you more than you loved yourself. But I think you’ve learned a lot and grown a lot since then. That's all that matters.”
I’ve lost a lot, too, Taehyung thinks. But it’s a topic for another conversation and Taehyung decides he’ll focus on what he has gained for now. And maybe trying to get the records back. “So, hyung, do you think I can ever get my records back?”
Hobi groans and rolls his eyes so much they’re white for a long time.
Taehyung should have known better than to enter a relationship with attraction as the only reason and to stay in it with sexual compatibility as the only foundation. But that was, in a nutshell, the Do Jihan chapter of his life.
Taehyung knows he’s pretty. He’s been told this so many times that the effect and meaning are sometimes lost on him. Not that he’s ungrateful when people are genuinely appreciative of his looks, particularly his beautiful face. Just that, maybe he’s tired of hearing it. He’s not oblivious to the stares, the comments he’s been getting since he was a child. And as he grew older, with all his features fitting better together into his face, and his body becoming more manly, he has become more and more of a head-turner. Heck, his voice alone is dreamy. Even when he was a child it has always had that unique quality, a timber so deep and enchanting you wouldn’t mind hearing it all day. Puberty only did his vocal cords good because his voice became even deeper and richer in tone. And thank the fates that he could carry a tune. In fact, he had perfect pitch and could sing any note on point as he would discover later on.
“Hyung, can we try one last time?” Jungkook asks, his hand scratching the back of his neck, looking at him with puppy eyes, obviously embarrassed at his own request. They’ve been in the studio for hours today, recording songs for one of Jungkook’s classes.
The younger has just started at university with him and has decided to minor in music production while majoring in business and diplomacy. Meanwhile, Taehyung chose to pursue his love for writing and sports by taking up sports science and journalism.
Taehyung glances at his watch. He knows Jihan will be pissed but Jungkook needs this. “Sure, bun,” he replies. “Just need to make a quick call.” He smiles nervously as Jungkook obviously deflates and relief washes over his face. It was more than enough to tell Taehyung that he had made the right decision. He’ll just butter up his boyfriend real nicely later. In the meantime, he calls his number. “Please tell Jihan hyung thank you and I’m sorry for keeping you,” Taehyung just nods and smiles in acknowledgment as Jihan’s voice comes on.
“Hey, you better be on your way.”
“Hi, hun,” Taehyung starts sweetly. “Sorry, I’m running late. Just wrapping things up here. One last run and I’m all yours.”
“Are you serious?!” Jihan’s voice is so loud that Taehyung is sure Jungkook hears it. “You’re already an hour late.” The annoyance is unmistakable. Taehyung tries his best to appease him.
“Sorry, hun. Didn’t realize it’ll take this long. Been messing up my parts, so we’ve been redoing them.” Jungkook’s eyes widen. He looks like he’s about to speak to correct it, but Taehyung silences him by putting a hand over his mouth. “One last run, hun, please? Jungkook needs to turn this in by midnight.”
“You know what? Let’s just cancel tonight,” Jihan declares. “I’ll see you another time.”
“No, no, no…” Taehyung refuses. “I haven’t seen you in a while, hun. I miss you. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“I don’t know, Taehyung… I’m kinda pissed right now. I didn’t make other plans for this.”
Taehyung turns to look at Jungkook who is tugging on his shirt. The little one is pouting, quite visibly distressed at the conversation he’s hearing. He’s mouthing for Taehyung to just go. Taehyung adamantly shakes his head no. Then his voice shifts to a tone he uses when he wants to get his way.
“Hun, I’ll make it up to you when I get there. Told you I’ll be all yours, hyung.”
Taehyung sees Jungkook’s ears turn red and he knows the voice shift did something. He hears Jihan exhale loudly, his voice breathy and a bit shaky as he replies, “You better.”
Jungkook looks away when Taehyung pockets his phone. “I’m sorry, hyung. I hope I didn’t make things weirder between you.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, bun. He’ll be alright. He’s the one I squeezed in tonight anyway. So he should wait. Besides, I already gave him something to look forward to, so he'll be preoccupied until I get there.
“But you’ve been going through a rough patch.”
“That we have. But it’s always been a rough patch with us, bun. Guess that’s what you get when you chase a hot boy for months until he says yes. If it’s all about kisses and fucking, then what do you do in between?”
“You get to know each other. You talk. You eat together, play games together. You watch movies and anime, you go on walks, you cuddle, you sing together…”
“But that’s what you and I do, bun. That’s not me and Jihan.” Taehyung blurts out. Jungkook lets out a gasp then looks down at his shoes. Taehyung flicks his chin to force him to look up and look at him. “Look, it’s not like I haven’t tried, bun.”
“I know, hyung. It’s just that you deserve better. And you know it. That’s why I don’t really understand…” Jungkook’s voice trails.
Taehyung tugs him at the wrist and pulls him close into an embrace, gently massaging the younger’s nape. “I’ll be alright if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Jungkook pulls away with a pout. “I still can’t believe you let him have your Joni Mitchells.”
Do Jihan: hot hot hot. really hot fuck. hot-headed mf. just wanted to be in me. wasn’t really into me.
June 16
I’m done with this asshole. Is sex all I’m good for? I think tf not.
Aug 6
I should have learned the first time we broke up. Since when did I become this brainless prick? I’m smarter than this. Jungkook has told me that so many times. But I never listened. I kept going back, thinking with a head other than the one I have on my shoulders. Like I’ve never had dick before in my life. Like I’ll never have any again after him. But I’ve learned my lesson this time. I really have.
Aug 13
So I wasn’t expecting Jungkook to punch him. I knew my little bun had been working out a lot but I didn’t know he could throw a punch like that. “It’s my fa--” I started to say. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Jungkook said. He was fuming and I’ve never been more scared of him, for him. He was so angry and I didn’t even know exactly why. Maybe he was angry at me for being too stupid about this Jihan thing and he didn’t want to say it to save me from embarrassment because I have been thinking like a sex-crazed, affection-deprived imbecile in the last few months. It’s been so unhealthy. And it’s not like my friends didn’t try telling me. And it’s not like I didn’t know. I knew. I knew but I kept doing it. I kept going back and selling myself so cheaply to this person who only kept me around for sex and didn’t even try to get to know who I really am.
“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” I mumbled while tending to his bloody hand. “It’s my fa--”
“I’ll punch you next if you don’t stop saying that,” he glowered at me. I almost peed my pants because he was scary af and kinda hot, too. But this is Jungkook we’re talking about so I just shut my mouth and tended to my best friend’s wound. I just realized he always hurts himself when he’s around me. Remember how we met? And now this. Poor kid.
Anyway, this is the end of the road for me and Do Jihan, I promise. I promised Jungkook I’ll never go back. He brought me to my grandmother’s grave and made me promise to her. Halmeoni knows I also swore on Jeon Jungkook’s pretty doe eyes that I’m never going back.
Do Jihan: hot fuck. hot-headed mf. done for good. never going back.
Track 3: Sad Beautiful Tragic
Taehyung stares at his clothes as they swirl inside his rented machine. He hasn’t been in a laundromat in a long time but he had sold his washing machine to one of his juniors dirt cheap since he won’t be needing it when he moves in with Hobi. The swirly patterns his clothes make and the continuous thrumming of the machine threaten to put him in a trance. But he figures any altered state of consciousness might be better than remembering the last time he was at a laundromat or everything that transpired at Namjoon and Seokjin’s engagement party last night. Since he found that red book, his mind has gone into overdrive and he’s just too tired right now to think of anything but whites and non-whites, quick wash or hand wash, air or tumble dry in low or medium heat.
Taehyung wishes people could be sorted as easily as clothes and relationships laundered following suitable settings so they can be made clean and possibly worn again.
He almost didn’t go to the party. He is sure he has reached his partying limit in high school and has partied enough for a lifetime. Truth be told, he never really did enjoy it back then. He was just expected to show up with a different girl in his arms every week, then with Jisoo when they got exclusive, then with a different boy whenever he felt like it. Later on, when he decided that he could certainly do without the socially acceptable affront to real interactions that parties offer and that life is so much better without everyone trying to get into your business or your pants, he began spending most weekends hanging out with his small circle of friends--and just the hyungs later on when some of them had moved on--at Hobi’s. But Taehyung knew he’d never hear the end of it from Seokjin if he didn’t show up last night. Taehyung knew Seokjin would retell his narrative about Taehyung being unable to move on from something Taehyung doesn’t even know about so he mopes around, a bitter semi-recluse incapable of forming long-term relationships, who’d rather stick his own hand in his pants than have another’s hands on him because he’s still hung up on a past love, one he didn’t allow himself to have. Can it not be that Taehyung’s just sick and tired of all the bad romance and fake love and has decided he’s just better off on his own and pining and unrequited love have absolutely nothing to do with it?
It’s the height of Seokjin’s delusion, really. And if Jungkook were still around, he’d probably call out Seokjin hyung on it, too. Because Jungkook knows too well all his hits and misses, all the assholes he fell for, all the traps he fell into and Jungkook himself had to dig him out of, all the frogs he has had to kiss and none of them turning into a prince but many of whom were in the party last night.
The machine clunks to a halt. Taehyung gets up from his seat and leaning on the machine, begins to absentmindedly take out his non-whites from it. He fishes them out one by one, all warm and fuzzy, and dumps them unceremoniously into one laundry basket, his mind replaying some of the scenes from the party, seeing his inglorious exes after a long time. It surprises him to realize that he was actually happy to see some of them. Well, maybe not all, just a few. And some more than the others.
Jihoon sunbae whom he adores, who mentored him and inspired him to go into sports writing, is still seriously handsome, probably still writes better than he talks because as Taehyung noticed, his voice still gets high-pitched when he’s excited. Like always, he is interesting and charming until he can’t stop talking, especially about himself. Taehyung has mastered the art of leaving him to his soliloquy.
Minho was already drunk when Taehyung spotted him on the dance floor. Still stupidly gorgeous in that dress shirt with several buttons left open. Taehyung would have wanted a dance but Minho is all loud mouth and grabby hands when he’s like that. And as Taehyung watches him from the bar, he knows Minho’s still pretty much like that. It would have been fun if Taehyung wasn’t thinking of the morning after. And he’s had too many of them to want any of those again. The evening is never worth the morning after.
“Excuse me, do you have a Band-Aid?” Taehyung hears a voice beside him, and it’s all too familiar after all this time, but he turns to recognize its owner just the same who has taken the seat just beside him at the bar.
“Sorry, I don’t have any,” Taehyung replies, holding back a smile as he anticipates the punchline even if he knows exactly what it will be. “What exactly do you need it for?” he asks, playing along.
“I scrape my knee every time I fall for you.”
Taehyung tosses his head back as he chuckles. “Hello, Minjae,” he says when he recovers, leaning in for a quick hug. “How have you been?,” he asks, looking straight into Minjae’s eyes.
“Better,” the other replies. “And you? Heard you’re moving in with Hobi hyung. Are you…?” His voice trails as he looks down and stares at his hands clasped together on his lap.
Taehyung knows what Minjae cannot say. “No, no…” Taehyung answers, tapping Minjae’s shoulder briefly to make the younger one look up. “Me and Hobi hyung are not… I’m just moving in with him because it’s closer to where I’ll be working. It’ll come out cheaper, too. Which will be a big help especially until I finish paying off my student loans.” Taehyung wants to ask how he found out, but he decides it’s not important. “What have you been up to these days?” he deflects.
“The drama company I’m part of is staging our maiden play. I’m not the lead or anything, hyung, but I get a tiny solo. You should come.”
“Sure,” Taehyung says without thinking. He doesn’t think he’s leading Minjae on. He’s just trying to support an old friend. Not going might do Minjae more harm than good in the long run. Not that Taehyung still has to look after him emotionally. It’s a sort of Hippocratic oath for him at this point--"Above all else, do no harm.” Minjae cannot hide his thrill, and Taehyung thinks he made the right choice here. Minjae kisses his cheek. They smile brightly at each other. “Sure, sure, I’ll go,” Taehyung says again.
As clothes go, Minjae was once a favorite sweater, one he wore daily for comfort until it shrunk and began to stick to his skin. Taehyung had to give him up for Minjae’s own sake.
He was so close to tearing himself apart for Taehyung.
“There’s something you should know about the play though,” Minjae injects.
Taehyung tilts his head a bit to the side, his curiosity piqued. “Is it gonna be boring?” Taehyung teases. “I’ll sleep through it then and just wake up for your solo.”
Minjae gives a little laugh before speaking. He lets his hand rest briefly on Taehyung’s knee. “Uhm, no, actually it’s really well written. I mean, for a senior thesis to find acclaim and be much-coveted in circles that matter. I don’t think you’ll find it boring at all.”
“It’s raunchy then, isn’t it? Oh my God, will you be naked or in steamy scenes?”
Minjae laughs and laughs and Taehyung just laughs along with him until Minjae decides, mid-laugh, to drop the bomb on him and his laughter dies instantly.
“Jeon Jungkook wrote it.”
Taehyung loads his next batch of clothes. The rattiest shirt in the pile falls out. A faded black shirt in the most comfortable fabric known to Taehyung. His favorite for years. And it’s not even his.
Taehyung loads a black shirt in the wash. Jungkook taps his wrist and screams, “Stop, stop right there…” Taehyung freezes. “I’ve been looking all over for that shirt, Taehyung. What the fuck. It’s been with you all this time?”
“Where did you think it was?”
“I can’t believe you! I thought I lost it at the gym. Because I sometimes like to do the pull-ups shirtless and maybe someone who has the hots for me just snatched it and--”
“I do not need to know. Quit showing off.”
“No, but I’m not… And that’s not what happened. It was with you all along. I even made a fuss at the gym. Yapped on about lousy security, bad management. I almost lost my membership because I was so bitchy.”
“You probably were being bitchy,” Taehyung quips.
“Well, this bitch wants the shirt back.” Jungkook makes grabby hands at the shirt but Taehyung keeps it securely behind his back.
“You’re so funny,” Taehyung says. “It's just a shirt.”
“It was my favorite! I wrote Tony’s name on it myself.”
“Pretty sure Arya didn’t miss it and she’s happy her family’s legacy lived on.”
“Lives. Ironman isn’t dead to me…” Jungkook folds his arms over his chest. “Wait, how come I’ve never seen you wear it?”
“I mostly wear it to sleep,” Taehyung confesses.
“But you never wear it when I sleep over…” Jungkook pauses thoughtfully. “Which means you were hiding it from me…” He pauses some more then his face lights up as though he has connected the dots. He points a finger at Taehyung. “You did something to it, didn’t you?”
Taehyung steps back.
Jungkook steps forward.
It is like a dance, and they do it until Taehyung backs into a machine. Jungkook moves into Taehyung’s space, wraps himself around Taehyung tightly, and grabs the shirt from behind him. Then he runs to the other end of the laundromat with his loot, unfurling it as he goes.
He sees what Taehyung has been hiding from him and he whips his head to look at Taehyung like a fluffy bunny would when it’s pretending to be angry. Taehyung guffaws.
“So do you still want it back?” Taehyung asks him, shit-eating grin on his face.
Taehyung gets his answer as Jungkook hurls the shirt at him. It would have hit him squarely in the face if his quick hands didn’t catch it instead.
“You’re an asshole,” Jungkook pouts. “I don’t want it. Just make sure you never wear it in public.” Jungkook glares at him as he comes closer to resume loading the wash, dumping Taehyung’s clothes a bit more roughly than necessary. Taehyung thinks it’s the cutest he’s ever been and wraps his arms around his tiny waist, rubbing his nose into the crook of Jungkook’s neck.
“So grumpy,” Taehyung teases even more. “Just admit it’s funny and move on.”
Jungkook tries to squirm away from Taehyung’s hold, and when he can’t, he just throws the boxers he had in his hands at Taehyung’s face.
“You could have left it at JK. I hate you.”
“You know I had to,” Taehyung brings them even closer. “And no, you don’t hate me,” Taehyung paused for emphasis. “...Baby Stark.”
Jungkook bites his ear after that. Taehyung pretends to struggle against it. He takes Jungkook’s face in his hands and directs it away from his ear. They end up with their faces a breath apart. Taehyung is cradling Jungkook’s head. Jungkook catches his breath and sticks his tongue out, letting it curl up his upper lip. Taehyung’s eyes flick almost instinctively to it. It was the briefest of glances but it sparks a strange fire in Taehyung, and he hopes Jungkook didn’t catch it because it doesn’t even mean anything, right? It’s not like Taehyung wants to taste that tongue, not like he wants to smash his lips against Jungkook’s. No, it isn’t like that at all between best friends. So, he bites the Jungkook’s nose instead. Jungkook pinches Taehyung’s side and a tickle fight commences until both out of breath, they call a truce and wait for their clothes to dry, sitting in comfortable silence, like a pair of old socks, warm and fuzzy from the dryer, separated during the cycle but inevitably bundled together.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you to the airport?” Taehyung inquires. “I can borrow hyung’s car. You know how he doesn’t go out on Sundays.”
Jungkook shakes his head then turns to look at Taehyung whose eyes are already on him. “Thanks, Tae. I really appreciate the offer, but my dad’s sending a car for me.” He leans forward as he sits, perching his elbows on his thighs, his fingers laced together. He studies them as though seeing them for the first time. His voice is soft, almost apologetic as he says, “Besides, it might get weird. Well, I might get weird. You know how I can be a mess sometimes. Taehyung, there’s something I--”
“Don’t you dare apologize again for pursuing your dream. We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to hear any more of it.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave.”
“You were never going to stay, bub. I’ve known it from the beginning. You were meant for greater things.”
“I’ll call you every day. I’ll write you letters. I’ll--”
Taehyung gently pressed a finger against Jungkook’s lips to silence him. “Come here,” he says as he pulls him in for a hug. “You have to stop saying those things to me, Jungkook. I might hold you to them. Just go, bun, just go get your dream and be happy.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He just clings to Taehyung until the spot on his shoulder is wet where Jungkook had buried his face.
November 27
Kim Minjae: fatal attraction minus the cheating and murder attempts but with serious single white female vibes. too bad he was such a cutie and a sweetheart.
He broke it off and I suppose that’s good. It means he’s setting his own boundaries, too. He’s choosing what’s healthy for him.
He says he appreciates that I chose to stay with him through therapy and all. And he thinks it’s very gentlemanly of me. But my heart’s not in it, he tells me. He says he knows where it is, but it’s for me to find out. And he hopes I find out before it’s too late.
But something tells me it is too late. Because I never picked up his calls and I never read his letters after the first one. The one where he says, “Hyungie, Paris is so beautiful. I like it so much here.”
It is too late. Because it was only when he left that I knew that I was utterly and irrevocably in love with Jeon Jungkook.
Track 4: I Almost Do
Hobi was supposed to come and watch Minjae’s play with him, but something came up at the last minute so Taehyung is left to cry alone and be a slobbering mess at the intimate theater where the musical was being staged.
It's been years, but he recognizes the body of work as Jungkook's. He’s pretty sure he did the original recording of some of those songs with the younger back at uni.
On my door, I etched a keyhole the size of your balled fist.
Its edges spall and splinter where the wood is old.
Still, nothing else fits.
In my palm, I carved your name
Not like a pentacle but like a song
Whose words I do not always need to know
But my heart will always, always sing.
But sometimes goodbye blooms overnight.
Goes on to masquerade in plain sight.
Sometimes it floats away
And quietly fades into white.
Other times, goodbye lingers
Like a wound that doesn’t heal.
The goodbyes that scar the most
Are the ones you never hear.
Somehow, the songs hit differently this time. Taehyung keeps wiping his tears with the back of his hands until he finally just presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, as though it will suppress the tears from the inherently sad lines ( The play is entitled The Breakup Playlist after all, about a man who is in love with his best friend who doesn’t really notice him but takes a string of lovers instead. And so the man writes a song for every lover his friend takes and loses. If it sounds familiar, it’s all coincidental. Taehyung is sure that the events in this musical are not in any way related to actual events or people. ) and other sad memories that the song might be triggering in him. He’s still wiping his tears when the house lights are turned on. He closes his eyes to compose himself before he joins the crowd making their way to the exit.
When he opens his eyes, there’s a handkerchief being offered to him. “Please take it before you turn into a puddle of whipped cream.”
He turns to find Jungkook beside him with his characteristic smirk, the bucket hat, all-black fit, and--Taehyung isn’t sure, but it really looks like it--a lip ring. Taehyung never thought about what meeting Jungkook again would be like, how they’ll act around each other, what they’ll say. Taehyung certainly didn’t expect that his first words to Jungkook after several years would be, “Asshole! Maybe I’m crying because you didn’t even pay me for recording those songs with you. And look where they are, where you are right now. You must be so pleased with yourself. Your shoulders must be so tired from carrying your head seeing how big it has become.”
Taehyung takes the handkerchief just the same. He wipes his tears first then blows his nose noisily on it as Jungkook looks on, amused. “You’re one to talk,” he tells the older. “You weren’t even that good.”
Taehyung slams a hand on Jungkook’s chest. “Fuck you, you know I was.”
“Well, maybe you were. A little.” Taehyung rolls his eyes and gets up, making his way to the exit. Jungkook follows him, his hand on the elder's elbow, guiding him. “So how have things been? I see you got dolled up for an ex. If I didn't know any better I'd say you’re trying to win him back. Like this is several notches up that green silk number you wore with tight black pants the other night.”
‘What? You were at Seokjin’s party and you didn’t even say hi to me?”
“You were…” Jungkook cups his chin as if in deep thought. “How shall I say this.. Occupied?” Jungkook suggests playfully.
“So I’m a fucking bathroom stall now?” Taehyung manages to retort despite the influx of so many emotions all at once. He’s still processing his feelings about the play--it was so raw and broken and real. But seeing Jungkook again was as real as the rawness and brokenness can get. And yet, it brings him a feeling of lightness he’s almost giddy, and a sense of wholeness in his heart that it hasn’t felt in a really long time.
“You were busy, okay?” They were milling about by the stage door, waiting for Minjae together even without having openly said so. Jungkook bows to some well-wishers briefly before turning his attention back to Taehyung, touching his elbow again to cue him to move closer to him to make way for some servers with hors d'oeuvres. Taehyung takes some and pops them into his mouth, but not before raising them in a mock toast and telling Jungkook, “How very French.” It was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes. It’s literally been years, and yet here they are taunting and bickering like an old married couple. “Is it Parisienne, too, to ignore old friends at parties?”
“Like I said, everyone was all over you at Seokjin’s, and I didn’t know where to take a number from to join the queue!”
“Oh, please!” More eye-rolling but with an extra light push on the shoulder sends the message here, Taehyung thinks.
“Besides,” Jungkook’s tone shifts and Taehyung hears it again--the rawness, the brokenness. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Since you never took my calls or wrote me back.”
Before Taehyung could stop himself he says, “I missed you.”
“You had a very funny way of showing it,” Jungkook scoffs. “But, damn, I missed Seoul.” Jungkook deflects. “Hyung, do you know what I missed the most?”
“Me?” Taehyung teases.
“Oh, please!” Jungkook echoes, with the eye roll and shoulder push to boot. “Not you! The barbecue. Wanna grab some after?” Jungkook says casually.
“Well, Minjae and I…”
“Of course, of course!” Jungkook dismisses the idea. “Sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No, no, no, you could join us. Please?”
Minjae shows up as if on cue. “Whatever this is, as long as it’s not sex, yes, you could join us, Jungkook sunbaenim.”
Taehyung gasps and Jungkook eyes Minjae strangely. Minjae turns beet red after realizing what he just said. He waves both hands frantically in front of him as if to erase his words. “Oh, God, no, I didn’t mean…” He looks at Taehyung who just shrugs at him, and then at Jungkook. “We don’t… not anymore… shit! I mean we’re not…”
Jungkook laughs. “Minjae, it’s none of my business really.”
“I was inviting him to join us for dinner if that’s okay with you.” Taehyung chimes in to save Minjae from further humiliation.
“Of course, of course! I actually came out to tell you that Jungkook sunbaenim is here and you might want to see him. So let's have dinner together, alright? Just like old times."
Except it wasn’t like old times.
Because, for some reason, Minjae kept acting like he was third-wheeling, opting to sit across from Taehyung instead of beside him for starters. And Jungkook, well, he had his arm on the backrest of Taehyung’s chair during the entire meal, cooking the meat for him, and despite saying that he had missed it, he kept putting the meat on Taehyung’s plate first instead of his own, kept asking Taehyung if he cooked it well, if there was anything else that Taehyung wanted. Meanwhile, Taehyung was too confused to eat, which was the strangest thing.
“Jungkook sunbae, what was Paris like?” Minjae asked.
Taehyung leans back a bit to look at Jungkook whose eyes were on him, too. He feels Jungkook’s hand on his shoulder as he pulls his upper body away from the backrest. Taehyung thinks he’s being brave. He doesn’t know what sort of answers he wants to hear, but he waits for a reply with arms folded protectively in front of himself. Jungkook’s eyes never leave his own when he says, “Paris was a beautiful dream...” Taehyung looks away and turns to face Minjae, lips upturned into a tight smile, head nodding robotically in agreement. Of course, of course, he loved Paris, Taehyung thinks. And shouldn’t Taehyung take comfort in that instead of feeling like his heart is constricted, as if it has shrunk to the size of a pebble and he couldn’t breathe? Refusing to look at Jungkook, he trains his eyes on Minjae whose gaze shifts from Taehyung to Jungkook and back, a ping-pong of frantic orbs, like he’s realizing again that maybe the question was ill-appropriate for two people who had a falling out because of it, who hadn’t seen each other or talked to each other in 3 years.
“Hey,” Taehyung hears Jungkook say as he pulls him closer. He rubs his hand up and down Taehyung’s arm. “Are you okay?” Taehyung nods without looking at him, the same tight-lipped smile fixed on his face.
“I’ll get the tab,” Minjae says to diffuse the awkward silence. After much argument over who will pay for it, they decided to split it three ways.
The evening had turned chilly as they walked out of the restaurant. “I’m that way,” Minjae says. “Will you be alright, Tae? Do you want me to--?” A worried look etched on Minjae’s face.
“Nah, you go on ahead, Jae.” Taehyung inserts the nickname knowing it will appease the youngest. “You should rest right away, okay? You had a big night. Congrats, again.” Taehyung opens his arms and Minjae walks in and melts into them.
“Thank you for coming out to watch, hyung,” Minjae mumbles through the hug. “I’m sorry if I messed up,” he says more softly. “You’re alright,” Taehyung whispers right back, ruffling Minjae’s hair as he lets go.
“Thank you, Jungkook sunbae. Take care of Taehyung hyung for me.” Minjae bows. Jungkook just gives a curt nod.
Taehyung watches until Minjae turns the corner. He feels Jungkook’s eyes on him, and he knows he won’t last a hot second if he looks into them. “I’ll walk you home,” Jungkook decides for both of them, tugging on the sleeve of Taehyung’s beige trench coat.
“You don’t even know where I live anymore.”
“That’s what you think,” Jungkook replies with a smirk as he slides his muffler off his neck and puts it on Taehyung.
“Lead the way then,” Taehyung challenges. “You think I won’t call you out on your bullshit, Jeon?”
Jungkook snorts and proceeds to recite Taehyung’s current (soon-to-be former) address. “Is that yours?” Taehyung’s jaw drops. He asks, “How did you find out?”
“My last letter came back. I had to ask Hobi hyung. Sorry, I wasn’t stalking or anything. I was worried. Besides, hyung and I, we’re always talking… You know, you’re the only one who never…” Jungkook’s voice keeps faltering. “I just wanted to know what happened.”
“Oh. But you never wrote again.”
“I almost did. Whenever I don’t, I almost do.” Jungkook kicks a rock away from the path. “Meanwhile, you never wrote back. I endured three years of your radio silence.” Jungkook exhales loudly. He peers at Taehyung as though waiting for an explanation, but Taehyung stays silent. How does he say that he only read one letter and the rest were too painful to read? How selfish and stupid he had been! For fear of his own pain, he just ended up inflicting more on himself and subjected Jungkook to it as well.
It was near midnight but the streets were always busy on this side of town. Shops are still blaring their music, shoppers checking out wares, entering and leaving shops, passersby going about their business. Jungkook had stepped away from Taehyung, but like always, in any room or place they are ever in, they always find each other, they are always hopelessly drawn to each other. Taehyung pulls Jungkook to him. “I’m sorry I shut you out. Your absence engulfed me. It felt like drowning.”
Jungkook’s arms go around him. Tightly. Like he’s the one drowning. His breathing is heavy and Taehyung holds him closer. “It didn’t...have to be...that way.” Jungkook breathes sharply, raggedly in between phrases, then takes one deep breath. “But what’s done is done. I’m here now. Do you hear me, Tae? I’m here now.” Taehyung just nods.
Now. He’s here now. A reprieve. A consolation. Taehyung will take it. He will allow himself this. His hands slip down to Jungkook’s waist as they break the hug. He studies the younger’s face and takes in his sharper, more handsome features like he’s looking at Jungkook for the first time. And maybe he is. He pushes a strand of hair away from the younger’s eyes and tucks it behind his ear.
“I like your hair like this,” Taehyung says. Jungkook hums and leans back in, burying his face near Taehyung’s neck.
“Now walk me home,” Taehyung demands, both arms looped around Jungkook’s arm as they walk side by side
“So where are you staying while you’re here?” While you’re here. The words leave Taehyung’s mouth like tar, thick, heavy, and bitter. They’ve reached a crowded alley and Jungkook nudges him forward so Taehyung could walk in front of him, all the while planting his hands firmly on Taehyung’s shoulders.
“I’m staying with Yuna noona until I find my own place,” Jungkook leans in to say near Taehyung’s ear.
“What?! With my own sister? Why? How?” Taehyung is shocked. Jungkook gives his shoulders a massage as they walk and if the goal is to distract Taehyung, it works.
“She and I never lost touch, Tae. And when I was figuring out stuff about the rights for the play, I consulted her a lot. And I may have mentioned to her that I was coming h--here.”
“And she never mentioned anything to me.”
“I asked her not to. You seemed like you wanted nothing to do with me after I left. Noted, but not with thanks.” Jungkook made a motion like he was signing something.
“Why don’t you just stay with her then? Not that it’s any of my business, but don’t you think it’s a little too much to spend for your own place if you’ll only be here for a few weeks tops? I can talk to her if you want. I don’t think she’ll mind. If you’re in that spare room of hers, you can practically stay forever. Not that I’m expecting you to. Just saying you can stay with her until you need to leave.”
“Bold of you to think I’m ever leaving you again,” he mutters under his breath.
Taehyung stops in his tracks and looks at him like he has grown three heads and all of them are simultaneously lying to him. “Stop clowning,” he grits through his teeth. “That’s the ugliest joke you’ve said all night.”
Jungkook’s expression shifts again. His eyes darken and his lower lip juts out in a defiant, resentful pout. “Bold of you again to think I’m only here for laughs.” They stare each other down, reading into each other’s eyes as much as they can. Taehyung is the first to look away. He starts walking away but before he could, Jungkook’s gloved hand captures his wrist. They stand face to face by a lamppost, bathing in its glow.
“Tae...”
“What are you here for then, Jeon? If not just for The Breakup Playlist.”
“I’m working on something else. A long-term project.”
“Aha! If you want me in it, you’ll have to compensate me this time.”
“I’ll most certainly do that. I’ll give you anything you want to get you on board. Because without you, the whole thing folds.”
“Oh? Why so? Are you writing a musical from all of my sob stories? Because you certainly can. You know way too much about me.”
“Do I, really?” Taehyung doesn’t respond. Thankfully, Jungkook goes on. “But I don’t want another sob story, Tae. Don’t you think we’ve had more than enough of those? I mean, I did not spend the last three years sublimating only to come to live out all of them all over again.”
Jungkook means to tease (or does he?) but something about the way he says it strikes Taehyung at the core. “I did drag you into each one of them, didn’t I? And if secondhand embarrassment is real, so must secondhand heartbreak be. I’m sorry, bun.”
“Don’t be. I wanted to be a part of all of your stories. I wanted to be a witness to your life.” Wanted.
“Too bad my live streams never made it to Paris.”
“You need a theme song,” Yuna noona tells him.
“God, not this again,” Taehyung whines. She’s in her Felicity phase now, and Taehyung sometimes finds himself singing in the shower, “Can you become, can you become a new version of you?”
“What’s wrong with a theme song? It worked the last time, didn’t it?”
“I broke up with someone then. Jungkook and I didn’t break up. He wasn’t even my boyfriend.”
“I know. But he should have been. Except he wasn’t. Because you were too dumb.”
“You know what’s not helping? This. You. I hate you.”
“You love me. You only hate that I’m telling the truth because it hurts you. Because you made a huge mistake by letting him go and you know it.”
“Noona, it’s not fair.” Taehyung curls up next to her on the bed. “We never broke up but he broke me the most when he left.”
Jeon Jungkook: left.
From Dec 30
Happy birthday to me.
Today I thought I saw someone who looked like him on the train. And I wrote this.
yesterday,
little drops
of rain
falling softly
on my hair--
iseulbi, you say.
ilsijeog, I learn
much, much later,
in the most painful way.
today,
a glimpse of a face
in a passing train
and I thought
I heard your name,
a slew of letters,
dangling from
someone else’s lips,
the last words
of a lullaby
before I drift off
to sleep.
today,
the ghost of your hand
where mine began,
and fragments
of a dream
I always lose
upon waking.
tomorrow,
a path we’re not taking.
I have to stop behaving like a scorned, abandoned lover.
The only thing I am of those three is the one in the middle.
From January 23
Jungkook-ah,
I started learning French, and for what? It’s just me being stupid, thinking that maybe one day, when I’m brave enough, I’ll run to you and tell you everything I learned when you left. I know I won’t, so I’m writing it all here.
Jungkook-ah,
I learned that sometimes the best things can come from bad days. Like the time I split open your forehead and because of that, I met my best friend, the best thing that ever happened to me.
I learned that only the one who does everything with you is worth giving your everything to. I’m sorry I gave so little of myself to you when you were still here. I let you go so you could have more than I could ever give.
I learned to never substitute attachment for commitment, to never confuse admiration with love, to always choose growth and change over predictability and comfort.
I learned that shadows were the brightest, most beautiful things until they burned themselves. After that, they became the wisest, and if you listen and learn to embrace them, they can make you whole again.
I learned that not everyone who comes into your life is meant to stay. But everyone who leaves, leaves something behind--a gift, a scar, maybe two, footprints, bread crumbs, a jar of keys. Everyone who comes blesses you.
When you came, you gave me a friendship I never asked for.
When you left, you gifted me with a love I could have had.
Coming, going, and in-between you were always my biggest, most beautiful blessing.
I wrote this for you because I keep waxing lyrical lately.
Forgetting my French
It crept up on me
the way my feelings for you did—
slowly, silently, and then all at once.
It started with reading sentences
and having to look up what a word meant.
One word first, three next.
And then I seem to have forgotten
how certain words were written.
Is it heureux or heureuse?
I’d close my eyes and try to picture
how you once hastily scribbled it on my hand,
wanting to say “You make me so happy”
but your scanty French (at the time)
allowing only one word and yet
it was all I needed to understand.
I lost the songs next—
I’d hear Chanson triste and fumble through the lyrics
except for the do re mi part which is the same in any language.
Then suddenly I can no longer conjugate etre.
And my tongue had become a useless mess,
stumbling over Je ne sais pas and Je ne comprends pas
while spouting fluently Je t’aime aussi.
Au revoir. Je suis desolee pour la douleur.
like they were the only thing it knew
because sometimes when people leave,
they take with them all the words they have ever spoken
and all that’s left is everything they never said.
It crept up on me
the way your leaving did—
slowly, silently, and then all at once.
I have to stop behaving like a forlorn, lovesick poet.
The only thing I am of those three is the one in the middle.
-o-
“So what do you say, will you do it with me?” Jungkook asks as they stop right in front of Taehyung’s apartment.
“You have to tell me first what it’s about.”
“It’s about two old friends finding each other again.”
“Do they fall in love in this one?”
“I think they’ve always loved each other, and in this one, they learn all the ways they can.”
“Do they get a happy ending?”
“Did you know that many people consider “happy ending” an oxymoron?”
“Do they live happily ever after then?”
“Uhm, no, if you’re asking if they’ll never fight or want to pull each other’s hair out in a totally non-sexual way. But yes, if you mean that they’ll be happier together than apart even if they fight or actually pull each other’s hair out.”
“Okay.”
“What do you mean okay?”
“Okay, I’ll do this with you." Taehyung's wide smile is met by Jungkook's own. "What shall we call this one?” he asks
“Begin Again," Jungkook answers, arms wrapped loosely around Taehyung's waist.
Taehyung hums in approval. “I like it. I can’t wait to start.” He steps into Jungkook’s space, fists Jungkook’s jacket, and motions with his head to the door behind him.
“So, uhm, this is me. I am home.”
Jungkook replies, looking deeply into Taehyung's eyes, “I am, too.”