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Jeongguk fidgets in his seat, twiddling his fingers as the nerves wreak havoc in his chest. His knee knocks against the underside of the table, and the glasses of water tip precariously, threatening to slip off the tablecloth.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, hands fumbling to straighten the cutlery on the table.
The restaurant is fancy—too fancy—and Jeongguk isn’t quite used to something like this. Candle-lit dining tables. Silver and porcelain crockeries. Classy ambient music. Everything about this place exudes elegance. Opulence.
Jeongguk sinks deeper into his seat. He much prefers a simple hole-in-the-wall type of eatery, always opting for somewhere that is less… intimidating.
But this time isn't about what Jeongguk prefers. It’s about what Taehyung wants, and, if Jeongguk is right about things, then the choice of location makes absolute sense.
In the corner of his eye, he spots Taehyung at the entrance. A waitstaff attends to him, before guiding him towards the reserved table.
Taehyung smiles when he spots Jeongguk, making his way through the restaurant. He’s dressed in a simple dress shirt, tucked into his slacks. The trench coat frames his tall stature well, but the checkered scarf wrapped around his neck softens the look.
Traitorously, Jeongguk’s heart stutters. Five years, and the beating thing in his chest still hasn’t quite gotten used to the sight of Taehyung. Doesn’t think it’ll ever be able to.
Jeongguk takes a deep breath.
As Taehyung approaches the table, Jeongguk gets out of his seat. And, naturally, he reaches out towards Taehyung, pulling him into a hug. Solid.
It's been months of not seeing each other, separated by physical distance. Jeongguk had been travelling, finding parts of himself in Japan, Cambodia, Argentina. All this time, Taehyung built a home here, in South Korea.
Taehyung smells like a mix of the prelude to winter, his classical cologne, and something so innately and distinctly Taehyung. He’s also impossibly warm, even if the coat is crisp cold from the outdoor chill.
The elder laughs in his ear, and the sound ricochets to the back of Jeongguk’s mind, echoing against his heart.
“Hey,” Taehyung says, husky voice sending tingles down Jeongguk’s spine.
When they part, Jeongguk misses the warmth. Keeps the lingering bloom of heat close to heart—a warmth nothing else can offer.
Taehyung takes the seat across from him, removing his coat to hang it on the back of his chair.
“Hungry?” Taehyung asks, deft fingers unraveling the scarf wrapped around him. He folds it neatly, and drapes it over the back, on top of his coat. “Because I’m starving.”
“I’m okay,” Jeongguk says. Doesn’t tell him that he’s too nervous to be hungry, too heart-wrenched to think of food. To think of anything, really. Anything that isn’t Taehyung. “What’s good here?”
Jeongguk hasn’t so much as given the menu a second glance for the ten minutes or so he’s been here. He didn’t really care for it, and still doesn’t. His gaze, instead, is trained on Taehyung as the elder picks up the menu, scanning it.
“Mmh, I’ve only been here once, but the steak’s really good. Figured you’ll like that.”
“I’ll have that then.”
The quiet buzz of chatter against the soft music in the background is drowned out by the thundering in Jeongguk’s chest. He sips his glass of water, trying not to tremble and drop the glass and fuck things up. It’s proven to be a difficult task, with the way his hands shake ever so slightly.
It’s all a deduction. Premonition. An educated guess because Jeongguk’s smart, and observant, and he’s been paying Taehyung a lot of attention.
He knows what’s coming. The imminent. The inevitable.
He’s gotten over the first part—the first realisation. What comes after should be less scary, but it isn’t any better to his faint heart.
Taehyung doesn’t seem to notice his mild panic, and simply hums in assent at his words. “Their grilled salmon is pretty neat too. Reckoned we can order both to share.”
Instinctively, intuitively, Jeongguk says, “Anything you want.”
“Great!” Taehyung finally sets down the menu, smiling. It’s soft, and beautiful, even if it’s tainted in the edges by exhaustion. Fatigue is typical of life and its running motions, and Taehyung is moving forward. “Any drink?”
“I’ll have a house white,” Jeongguk says, sneaking a glance at the wine section of the menu. He knows enough about wine to know that it’s a safe choice, and Taehyung seems to agree.
“Sounds good. I’ll have that too,” Taehyung says as he flags a waitstaff over.
Jeongguk takes the time when Taehyung is ordering their food to stare at the elder. His hair is tousled slightly by the wind, and his dress shirt creases in some areas where he’d leaned in a particular posture, but he doesn’t look the slightest bit disheveled. Five years, and Jeongguk knows Taehyung has the ability to make messy look fashionable.
And everything else—
They tell him all he needs to know.
“How was work?” Jeongguk asks when the waitstaff leaves their table.
“Same old,” Taehyung says, shrugging. It’s still a few months away from winter, but his cheeks are flushed pink from the autumn cold. “Wrapping up my current project, but my supervisor’s putting me in charge of a new one. You? Any round-the-world trips planned?”
Jeongguk shakes his head. “Not this time, no. I’m working on a five-year travel collection, so I’m free from travelling for the rest of the year. And I think my parents would prefer I’m home for Christmas for once.”
“So heading back to Busan then?”
“Yeah. Probably in early December. Was thinking of using the time to build up my portfolio.” Then, for no reason at all, except that he wants to say it. Say something. Something that has meaning, even if he’s not quite sure what it means. “I’ll be back in Seoul before the year ends though.”
Taehyung smiles. “You know me. Workaholic. I’ll be in Seoul too.” He takes a sip of his wine, saying, “No more scenery and travel shots then?”
“More portraits, yeah. I don’t know if I can keep doing travel features forever.”
“Afraid you’ll run out of places to shoot?” Taehyung says, grinning. Youthful and handsome.
At that, Jeongguk laughs.
“I don’t think that’s possible. But I guess I’m just preparing for the day when I’ve to settle down.”
“Huh?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, evidently amused. “The Jeon Jeongguk settling down in one place. Unheard of.”
“But not impossible,” Jeongguk retorts.
“I guess not.” Their food is served, fancy plating that clearly prioritises the visual appeal of the dishes. “Why the sudden change though? Making plans to settle down, I mean.”
“I’m not getting any younger,” Jeongguk says, and Taehyung barks out a laugh so loud that the couple at the table next to theirs turn towards them in surprise.
“You’re twenty-eight.”
“Plenty of people your age are far from settling down.”
“But you are.”
Taehyung stills, surprised by his words. His eyes widen a fraction, before he laughs again.
“I suppose I am.” He smiles, looking down at his cup, the swirl of shimmering liquid. “I’ve gotten accustomed to the familiarity and mundanity of domestic life.”
“Is it a bad thing?” Jeongguk asks, even when he already knows the answer.
He knows it, yet he can’t stop the words from leaving him. A last-ditch attempt at a second chance. A futile endeavour.
“It isn’t,” Taehyung answers anyway. Jeongguk wonders when he’s going to tell him. Ask him. Say what Jeongguk already knows, long before they decided to meet here.
“Then you have your answer.”
A comfortable silence falls between them as they dig into the food. The dishes are delicious, the meat tantalizingly good. But all Jeongguk can feel is the moths gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach upside down. He downs the entire cup of wine, wincing at the sharp stab of acidity in the alcohol.
“I’ve something to tell you,” Taehyung says, cutting through the silence.
Jeongguk swallows, and nods, prompting him to continue, even if all he wants to do is for Taehyung to stop talking right this instant. To stop the inevitable. Even if it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it all less real.
Taehyung breaks into a smile. His eyes shine with the soft glow of happiness. Joy is a beautiful look on him.
There is no hesitation, no flourish when he says—
“I’m engaged.”
And he’s looking at Jeongguk, waiting. Expectant.
After that, everything feels like a blur. Falling into a monotonous slew of actions, moving on instinct. Muscle memory.
“Congratulations,” he says first, because it is what he’s expected to do. He knows this—he already knew it.
The unsubtle message from Taehyung, asking him when he’d be back from his last destination. Wanting to meet, soon, here, in this fancy restaurant exceeding Jeongguk’s budget.
The text message from Yoongi, asking, did you know, Jeongguk? Did you know? You must know.
And the engagement band on his ring finger. Inconspicuous. Yet, it’s been the only thing Jeongguk has been able to see for the past half an hour. From the moment Taehyung sat down, fingers picking up the menu.
Jeongguk smiles next, forced happiness, because Taehyung is happy, and as his friend, Jeongguk should be happy too.
“When’s the wedding?” he asks, because he’s expected to. It’s expected of him. Somewhere in the hollow of his chest, Jeongguk thinks his heart has stopped beating.
“Sometime in April. That’s the plan,” Taehyung says, touching the engagement ring like he’s referencing the choice behind his words. The date. Spring.
Jeongguk has always known Taehyung wanted a wedding in spring.
“And that’s the thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Taehyung continues.
Jeongguk knows it’s coming. Has known it from the beginning. The inevitable. Because Taehyung is predictable and wonderful and so goddamn beautiful.
“Do you want to be my best man?”
And this wasn’t how Jeongguk envisioned it, this wasn’t how he dreamed of saying it. These words. Almost sacred.
But all Jeongguk can do is say: I do.
❖
Jeongguk is a good best man. He can be a good best man.
Because if he can’t have Taehyung at the altar, the next best way to love him is to be the perfect best man.
❖
The first step to being Taehyung’s best man is to pick out his wedding tuxedo with him. Jeongguk picks him up on a Saturday morning with bagels and coffee, his to-go breakfast order. His heart is weak at the sight of Taehyung, illuminated by the early morning sun. Wonders how many more times he’ll see him like this. Wonders how it’ll be like to wake up to him.
When Taehyung takes the paper bag and cup with a grateful smile, Jeongguk shakes the thoughts away.
The boutique store is a quaint place, tucked in the corner of a quiet street in Seogyo-dong. The bell at the door chimes lightly when they enter the store. A staff member greets them, but Taehyung waves her off with a polite smile, saying he’d just like to browse on his own.
“Jeongguk-ah, help me pick some out?”
Jeongguk knows nothing about fashion or wedding suits, but he nods anyway. He wonders how he’s ever going to pick. Knows he’ll think every piece looks good on Taehyung.
“This?” Jeongguk asks, taking a suit off the rack.
It’s a plain black suit, nothing special about it, and it looks just about the same as every other black tuxedo on the rack. But the material is soft, and the trim of the suit jacket looks exquisite. Jeongguk knows nothing, but he thinks this—and everything else in the shop—would look amazing on the groom here with him.
“Hm?” Taehyung glances over from where he’s browsing another rack of suits. On his arm, he draped a couple of pieces, all varying shades of black. He’d mentioned, on the way here, that the bride requested for his outfit to be in black. Typical. Tradition. Taehyung looks good in whatever, regardless. “Ah, thank you.”
Jeongguk sits on the plush velvet couch while he waits for Taehyung to change. Fiddles with the ring on his pinky finger, the thin silver band, soon to rust. It’s an old thing—a promise ring. Something Taehyung and he bought on a trip to Hokkaido, eons ago. Back when they were young and youthful and without the burdens of adulthood weighing on them. When they didn’t care about moving on or settling down.
A friendship ring, Taehyung had said. A promise that when one of them found love, not in each other, but with other people, the other friend would be the best man.
That’s what friendship rings are about. That’s what this is for.
Jeongguk’s merely filling a role. But he’s still wearing it now. Like a promise, like it’s something more.
He can’t quash the queasy feeling in his chest, the nauseousness building in his stomach. It makes him feel like a terrible friend. Selfish with ulterior motives. To be wearing such a thing, when the brighter bolder one on Taehyung’s ring finger is the one that means things. Tangible things.
When Taehyung walks out of the changing room, though, Jeongguk can’t help the way his heart squeezes at the sight.
The black suit fits him well. Frames his shoulders nicely, the dark material elegant on him. It’d have been plain on anyone, but Taehyung makes anything look striking. And Jeongguk might be biased, but he’s a photographer. He thinks he has some say on the definition of beauty in this world.
“How does it look?” Taehyung asks, tugging on the lapel of the jacket, smoothing out the creases.
“Good. Perfect. It’s—” Jeongguk nods, gutted. Torn apart by the fact that Taehyung looks so good in a suit, a dream straight out of Jeongguk’s fantasy. He’s dreamed of this too many times, on countless nights. “Yeah. It’s good.”
“Hmm, okay. I’ll try a couple more and we’ll see. But I like this one,” Taehyung agrees. “You picked well.”
After trying on a few suits, Taehyung insists Jeongguk try on a few too, claiming how he must be so bored sitting there, all by himself. Even when Jeongguk explains that no, he’s not bored at all, how can he be bored when he’s so eager to see Taehyung in various renditions of the same type of suit, like a lovesick fool? But Taehyung is nothing but persuasive, and eventually, Jeongguk’s shoved into a fitting room, putting on a plain grey suit.
“For your best man suit,” Taehyung had said, although all the tuxedos on the rack are designed for the grooms.
The suit fits him okay, nothing spectacular in his opinion, but Taehyung doesn’t hesitate from telling him he looks incredibly handsome. Jeongguk doesn’t know much about suits, or formal wear for the matter, but if Taehyung says it’s good, then it must be.
“We’d have to think about it more carefully though,” Taehyung says, eyes glinting with mischief. A tease. “Can’t have you looking more dashing than the groom.”
Impossible, Jeongguk wants to say, but the words get caught in his throat when Taehyung pays for both suits, waving off his protest and claiming the grey one to be a gift.
To his best best man.
❖
If picking out the wedding suit was a nightmare, picking up the wedding ring was absolute hell.
The pair have already selected their wedding rings, altered to their sizes, and Jeongguk’s job is simple—pick up the rings from the jeweler.
Taehyung insisted on coming along though, saying how he’s got some time off work and wants to personally make sure the rings are in tiptop condition.
They find themselves in the jewelry store, perched on the rotating high chairs lined up by the glass case displays. Taehyung has his chin propped up with his right hand as he leans against the surface of the cabinet, relaxed. The other hand rests on his thigh, fingers drumming with the jazzy beat in the jewelry shop. Somewhat restless, somewhat at ease. A fine juxtaposition.
Light falls on him, an incandescent spotlight, and he shines like a diamond under the limelight. Captivating even amidst all the bling in the jewelry shop.
Jeongguk, on the other hand, has both his hands interlocked, resting the clasped palms on his lap. His hands are cold, from the chilly air conditioning in the store. From the lack of another hand holding his.
He holds back the urge to reach out and take Taehyung’s hand.
The staff reappears from the storeroom with a box, the exterior a red velvet, soft to the touch. When she opens the box, the inside is a crimson satin-like cushion, displaying two rings of matching designs in the center. A sharp yellow, patterned in the center.
Taehyung picks up the larger ring, slipping it into his finger easily. The ring fits snugly, the perfect size.
“Looks good,” he comments, and Jeongguk avoids looking at the way the ring looks on his best friend’s hand.
An indication that he’s taken. A symbol. Of commitment and permanence.
A sign that Jeongguk is late. Too late. Far, far too late.
Has been, for a long time now.
Jeongguk swallows the bile that rises in his throat. Forces a weak smile onto his face.
“It’s nice,” he says, even though the words come out feeble. “Need to try the other one?”
Taehyung frowns for a moment, eyebrows furrowing momentarily. Jeongguk wishes to thumb the crease away, chide him gently that this will give him wrinkles when he’s old. When they’re old. Together.
“It should be fine,” Taehyung says eventually, picking up the second ring to inspect the gold.
Light reflects off the shine of the band, catching a glimpse of Taehyung’s countenance in the faint reflection. Jeongguk knows that at the wedding, when the bride puts on the ring and holds Taehyung’s face in her hands, the ring will capture his beauty in its gentle shimmer.
“Gold band, huh?” Jeongguk mutters under his breath, voice kept low. Speaking more to himself than to his friend.
But Taehyung hears him anyway, saying, “Yeah, I never thought I’d get a gold one like that.”
“You always wanted a white gold ring, right? A thin one.”
“Yeah.” Taehyung looks up from where he was staring at the ring on his finger, meeting Jeongguk in the eyes. He sounds a tad breathless when he says, “Exactly that.”
You still remember, goes unsaid.
Jeongguk forces a weak smile, laughing it off with a, “Sure, you always mentioned it, that’s why.”
Even though they both know that has never been the case.
Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t question further. Just slips off his own ring, and sets the two back into the box. Shuts the case gently, the box closing with a delicate click.
“Happy?” Jeongguk asks, even though he already knows the answer.
Taehyung smiles, taking the velvet box and tucking it into Jeongguk’s hand. It feels solid. Heavy. Burdensome in ways it shouldn’t be.
It’s Jeongguk’s job to keep the rings until the wedding day, and present them to the ring bearer, whoever it may be.
“Happy!”
❖
Jeongguk leaves for Busan a week before Christmas. Taehyung insists on sending him off at the airport, even if there’s no real need for that.
At the gates, Taehyung pulls him into the tightest hug.
“I’ll be coming back, y’know,” Jeongguk says, laughing into the embrace. Soaks up the warmth Taehyung emanates.
“I know.” Taehyung pulls away first, smiling. “I’ll see you after Christmas?”
“Yeah.” Jeongguk smiles too. “I’ll be back.”
❖
There’s not much planning involved for the bachelor party.
Taehyung wanted simple, as always, and simple is something Jeongguk is good at doing. It’s like breathing, and photography, and loving Taehyung.
Simple.
They hit a small bar for the party, just Taehyung and Jeongguk and a couple of Taehyung’s close friends. It’s a small group, most of them mutual friends from their university days. A handful of Taehyung’s colleagues, those close enough to be called buddies. And a few more from the places he’s been, the people he’s met.
“Must be a chore to handle all the best man duties,” says Jongsuk, one of Taehyung’s friends at work.
The man tips back his drink, leaning against the bar top counter as he watches the other people in the group mingle around. His tone is lighthearted, conversational, but it startles Jeongguk slightly to be approached by a somewhat stranger so abruptly.
Jeongguk tears his gaze away from where he was watching Taehyung engage in conversation with his friends, and turns to look at Jongsuk instead.
“It’s not too bad,” he says, nursing his own glass.
It’s not too bad, really, it isn’t. Except it is, but only because I’m so fucking in love with him.
Jongsuk chuckles, shaking the ice inside his cup. The ice cubes knock against each other lightly, a soft clinking sound that is barely audible in the mellow jazz music playing in the bar.
The light is muted. Bounced off the brick walls of the gastropub that soak up all the light. Taehyung is a diamond, still, under it all.
“My friend asked me to be his best man recently, actually,” Jongsuk says.
“Did you say yes?”
“‘Course I did,” Jongsuk answers, voice pitched a little higher, like he’s holding back the urge to laugh.
Jeongguk finds himself smiling. “Thought you said it’s a chore to handle best man duties.”
“It sure is, but what do you take me for?” Jongsuk says. “That’s my best friend we’re talking about, so of course I’ll say yes. Shit duties and all.” The man sets down his empty glass, and waves the bartender over for another cup. “That’s why we’re all doing it, right? That’s what best friends are for.”
Jeongguk swallows, staring down at his own glass. Half empty, half full. The same, yet different, all boiled down to how you look at it. He sees neither, just acidic liquid in thick glass.
“Yeah.” Jeongguk nods. “That’s what best friends are for.”
❖
Some drinks later, when Jeongguk is not too intoxicated to be drunk off his wits, but tipsy enough for him to actively seek out the person he loves, he searches the bar for Taehyung. Finds him with a group of friends, laughing over some fond memories.
Jeongguk has barely spoken a word at all to him the entire night, but he doesn’t quite mind it. He knows his place as the best man isn’t to hog the groom’s attention, but to plan out the best bachelor party.
He doesn’t try to pull Taehyung away, just keen on watching him from the side. But Taehyung spots him in the corner, and visibly perks up, eyes brightening slightly. The elder says something to his friends, before meandering through the crowd to get to Jeongguk.
“Hey, busy man,” Jeongguk says with a smile, handing Taehyung a drink.
“Thanks.” Taehyung takes the glass, knocking it lightly against Jeongguk’s own cup. “Cheers.”
They down the alcohol at one go, and Jeongguk tries not to wince at the intensity of the alcohol sliding down his throat. He manages only a grimace, brows pinching together at the sharpness of the liquid.
Grinning at his expression, Taehyung reaches up to thumb the furrow of his brows away, the faintest sound of laughter bubbling from his lips.
“Too much?”
“Haven’t drunk like this in a while,” Jeongguk says. Forces away the simmering feeling in his stomach, the fiery burn from the physical contact.
Taehyung laughs, loud and hearty. Vivacious in the way he always loves to express joy.
“Look who’s getting old now,” Taehyung teases, mirth sparkling in his eyes.
“You’re the one who’s getting married,” Jeongguk says, deadpanned. Even if getting married has nothing to do with getting old. Even if there’s a hint of bitterness in his words—bitterness he can’t seem to hide.
He’s had months to come to terms with the fact that Taehyung is getting married, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. It’s almost spring.
In a softer voice, he adds, “You’re the one who’s settling down.”
“I know,” Taehyung says, voice equally soft.
It’s uncharacteristic for two men to speak so softly in a bar that’s filled with so much liveliness, so much sound.
“Want to head out?” Taehyung asks, already shrugging on his coat. Wraps his scarf around his neck in a careless way. Careless enough that the chilly air might slip in if it tried.
It’s cold outside. And cold, somewhere, in Jeongguk’s frayed heart.
“And ditch your own bachelor party?”
“Not ditch,” Taehyung corrects, rolling his eyes. A smile plays on his lips. “Just getting some fresh air.” He tucks the end of his scarf under the layers of soft wool, sneaking a glance to the side. “Plus, I think they’re just fine without me.”
“Who needs the groom when you’ve got a free-flow bar, am I right?” Jeongguk jokes, tugging his own jacket on. It makes him feel stuffy here, in the bar, but he knows it’ll feel much colder outside.
“Guess I can’t measure up to these cheap beers,” Taehyung says with a chuckle, already making his way to the exit of the gastropub.
No one spares him a second glance, no one stops him for conversation. A couple of congratulations are thrown his way, but most of the guests are too engrossed in their own get-together or the liquid addiction coursing through their veins. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, and neither does Jeongguk.
Outside, the roads are empty, dark out except for the yellowed lamps aligned on the streets. They step out onto the road, turning out of the lane the bar is located on, heading to the main road. Walk to nowhere in particular, for no reason at all.
“Next week’s the wedding, huh. Do you feel ready?” Jeongguk asks, some self-destructive part of his mind taking over his voice.
Taehyung tugs the lapels of his coat closer, keeping out the spring cold. Even late into the season, the air is frazzled with the chill.
“Yes. Well, no. Actually—” He shrugs, letting out a soft exhale. “I don’t really know.”
Jeongguk blinks. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“We’re never really fully ready for things, are we?” Taehyung shoots back with another question. “Things just happen. They come and they go and we just—we just let them, don’t we?”
“Are you just letting things happen?”
“Maybe.” Taehyung laughs, but most of the sound is swallowed by the atmosphere. “I sure hope not.”
“Is this pre-wedding panic?” Jeongguk asks. “I’ve read about it before. But you’ll be fine.” He licks his lips, chapped from the breeze. “You’re marrying the love of your life.”
“Yeah.”
Love of your life. It pains Jeongguk to say it. Pains him even more for Taehyung to acknowledge it.
They fall quiet, a comfortable and almost pensive quality to the silence. Most of the alcohol has been shaken out of him by the biting cold, and Jeongguk never had that much to begin with. It seems the same for Taehyung, the flush of his cheeks attributed to the weather more than to the earlier drinks.
Jeongguk knows. Jeongguk would know. Has seen it enough times to tell the difference between the two.
“Tae—”
“Jeong—”
They fizzle into laughter, and the moment is tinted with so much warmth. Chases out the cold.
“You go first,” Jeongguk says, tucking his hands into the pocket of his jacket.
“No, you.”
“It’s okay, you can—”
“Look at us, bickering like kids,” Taehyung says as he chuckles.
Jeongguk mirrors his smile. “So much for being an adult.”
It’s colder out here, where the street lights are spaced out wider and the air is infinitely quieter.
“Sometimes, I wonder if I’m moving too fast,” Taehyung says after a month, voice almost a whisper under his breath.
Jeongguk looks up from where he was staring at the top of his shoes. Surprise colours his expression, unable to hide away the shock.
“It’s like, one day, I just graduated from college and am starting my first job,” Taehyung continues, “and suddenly, I’m here, a week away from getting married.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s—it’s not, I guess. Part and parcel of life kind of thing. But I’m not even thirty. This—what if this isn’t what I want?”
“Is it because of what I asked earlier? About being ready?”
“Sort of, yeah. I guess I just never really stopped to think if I was ready.” Taehyung sucks in a breath. “And now that I think about it, I’m not sure about it.”
“About the wedding?”
“About…” Taehyung looks down, and the air shifts, turning heavier. Weighty. “About settling.”
“Settling down?” Jeongguk asks.
Taehyung looks up, eyes meeting Jeongguk’s. They are warm, warmer than the summer sun, a breath of fresh air in the early spring chill. Jeongguk finds specks of tenderness in the irises, and wonders how it feels to have Taehyung look at him like this forever.
“Settling,” Taehyung repeats. An answer.
Jeongguk doesn’t ask, and Taehyung doesn’t elaborate. And they leave it at that—an unbearable weight between them.
❖
They make their way back to the gastropub in relative silence, and find that most of the party crowd are drunk from the free-flow bar.
Taehyung suggests they drink a few more glasses, a toast to the bachelor party.
“And to the wedding,” Minho adds, and the rest cheer along.
Jeongguk mumbles the words, and glances away before he can see Taehyung toast to it.
As the hours pass, the crowd begins to dissipate. First, it was Taehyung’s colleagues. Then, it was his friends. One by one, they bid him goodbye, the last of congratulations slipping past their drunken lips.
“Get home safe,” Taehyung tells them, pulling each of them to a tight hug before waving them goodbye.
Jeongguk stays behind, making sure each person has a way back or has someone to check on them once they return home. His apartment is lonely, and there’s no one waiting for him, but he’s sober enough to get himself home safely.
“Let’s go?” Taehyung asks, once the last of his friends have left.
“Okay. I’ll call a cab. This is your address, right?”
Fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging him away from his phone. The application on his screen illuminates for a moment, before turning dim.
“Jeongguk,” Taehyung says, “let’s walk for a little. If you feel like it?”
Jeongguk swallows, nodding. His apartment is lonely, and there’s no one waiting for him.
“Okay.”
❖
They find themselves back on the street, a slow stroll towards the train station. The trains have long stopped operating this late into the night, but it’s nice to have somewhere to head towards. A direction.
“You’re not tired?” Jeongguk asks.
Lethargy weighs on his shoulders, in his bones. A different kind of weariness in his chest.
“A little. But I just wanted to walk.”
“Okay.”
They pass by a chocolatier, the shop closed for the day. But the display of chocolate cakes is enticing, and a distant but fond memory comes back to Jeongguk in waves.
“Remember back in college? We’d go for a slice of chocolate cake after our exams,” Taehyung says, remembering the same memories they share.
“Yeah. Just one slice, for two greedy college kids.”
“Greedy but broke college kids, ” Taehyung corrects, chuckling. The sound is light, joyful in the places that have gone cold. “Where did all the time go?”
Jeongguk shakes his head, laughing. “I wonder about that too.”
“Who would have thought that just a couple of years down the road, I’ll be here, getting married.” Taehyung laughs, the sound tinged with a fraction of disbelief. “Married, Jeongguk. Married.”
Jeongguk tears his gaze away from where he was staring at Taehyung’s countenance, mesmerised by his beauty.
“Yeah,” he says softly.
“I’m getting married.”
Jeongguk blinks fast. His eyes sting, salty. “Yeah.”
“I’m getting married,” Taehyung repeats another time, like he can’t quite believe it.
Jeongguk wishes it wasn't real.
“Yeah.”
“I’m—”
“I know. You don’t—you don’t have to keep saying it. I know.”
Taehyung snaps out of his trance, blinking as he takes Jeongguk in. Jeongguk tries to turn away, but he’s a moment too late. The elder cups the side of his face, turning him gently to look at him again.
“Jeongguk—Jeongguk, why… why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” Jeongguk mumbles, but the muted sniffle gives him away.
“Is it something I said? Why—why are you—”
Taehyung is looking at him now, expression ridden with confusion. His eyes are terribly warm, fond in a way they shouldn’t be because all they do is make Jeongguk’s knees feel weak. And Jeongguk is still two parts tipsy from the alcohol, loose-lipped and chest aching. The words that have been kept in his heart for the past countless years struggle to break free.
Maybe it's desperation. Maybe it’s the sand slipping down the glass in the intangible hourglass of time. Maybe it’s simply this: that Taehyung is looking at him and Jeongguk has always been senseless in the face of beauty.
“I'm in love with you,” he says, the words slipping from him the way time did. Liquid gold that melts right past his fingertips.
“What?” Taehyung says, reeling back in shock.
Jeongguk takes in the expression flashing across the elder’s face. The shock. The confusion. And then, terribly so, the pain. The warmth fades away, replaced by something harsher than the coldest winds of winter. An empty kind of cold.
“Jeongguk, what—what did you say?”
“Nothing. Forget about it.”
“No, Jeongguk, I—what did you say?”
The air has gone frigid. Stale. With each exhale, the warmth trickles from Jeongguk’s breath.
“Don’t make me repeat it, please.”
Taehyung stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide as he processes the words. Three words, too loud for the world, too late for their time.
“Say something, please?” Jeongguk pleads, searching through the vulnerability displayed in bold across Taehyung’s visage. “Anything.”
A moment passes, and then—
“I—I love her. I love her, you know that?”
Jeongguk’s heart shatters, a broken thing broken once more. He’s stitched it back together with sticky glue and paper mesh, but after time and time again, what’s left in his chest is more glue than heart.
“I know. Tae, I know.” Jeongguk looks down at the pavement, voice incredibly small. The spotty lighting from the street lights flickers gold. “I know, Tae. That’s why—that’s why I’ll do the right thing. I’ll be the perfect best man.”
“Jeongguk, I—” Taehyung’s expression crumbles, pained. “Why are you only telling me this now? What do you want me to do?”
Jeongguk purses his lips, eyes slipping close. It’s dark ahead, the kind of darkness seeping through his soul. “Nothing.”
“But I can’t do nothing.”
He blinks, looking at Taehyung. The street lights cast a halo over the elder, and beneath the limelight, he shimmers like an angel.
“Why not?” Jeongguk lets out a shuddering breath, the fragments of his heart all sharp edges. Cutting.
“Because—” Taehyung finally meets his gaze, and his eyes, warm and soft and tender, are watery with unshed tears. He blinks, and they brim and fall. “Because I'm in love with you too. I forced myself to give you up and—I love her, I do. Love her enough to want to spend the rest of my life together with her but—I love you, that much more.”
Jeongguk’s eyes widen, letting the words sink in. Run through his mind a billion times, trying to find grounding amidst how gravitating the words have been.
Before he can find the words to say, Taehyung takes a step back, wiping away his tears furiously with a force fuelled only by pain and devastation.
“I can’t do this. I need to go,” Taehyung gasps out, affliction bleeding into his voice.
And he leaves Jeongguk standing there, in the middle of the street, wondering how everything went so wrong.
❖
Jeongguk receives a message the next morning, a short and succinct text that tells him all he needs to know.
❖
Jeongguk spends the next few days fretting over what to do, what to say. He gets calls from his friends, asking what happened. Where is Taehyung? Where did the groom go? Is the wedding still on? Why did he—
Why did he call it off?
Jeongguk tells them what he knows, which, truthfully, is nothing at all.
It all happened in a flurry that he’s left fumbling, tripping over himself, falling over and over again. He dares not call Taehyung, afraid of what the elder would say. Afraid that he’ll be forced to deal with the fact that Taehyung loved him—but Jeongguk missed his time to say it back.
Too much, too late.
Yet, his fingers itch towards his phone. Hovers over the contact, yearning to press call.
When he finally does, late into the night, the call goes straight to voicemail. In return, he hears the happy chime of Taehyung’s voice, the simple “Hello, you’ve reached Kim Taehyung. I can’t answer your call at the moment, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”
There’s nothing special to the voicemail message, nothing different in Taehyung’s baritone and warm voice.
But when the phone beeps and the phone begins recording the voicemail, Jeongguk sits on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as he sobs into his palms, feeling like he’s lost it all.
❖
I’m sorry, Jeongguk sends, and wonders how this apology can ever be enough.
❖
On the fifth morning after the bachelor party, two days before the supposed wedding day, Jeongguk hears a knock on his apartment door. He slips out from his bed, lethargy in his bones as he shuffles to the door.
He should have looked through the peephole. Should have checked his phone.
But he didn’t, and now, Taehyung stands right before him at his door.
“Tae—” He can barely get a word out, the name stuck in his throat, caught in his chest.
Taehyung looks at him with a weary gaze, exhaustion evident from the dark circles framing his eyes. His lips are downturned in a permanent frown, the faintest of wrinkles on his forehead from the way he furrows his brows. He looks sad, terribly so, and yet, Jeongguk still finds him impossibly beautiful.
(Maybe there is some truth in the vows—to love one’s spouse, in sickness and in death.)
Before he can say anything, Taehyung is surging forward, grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt. The one that, cruelly so, Taehyung bought for him on one of his business trips. The one that reads “I fell” with a cartoon of an Eiffel Tower printed on the front. He loves these silly shirts that Taehyung gets him on his trips, a long-standing tradition between them ever since they first became friends. In turn, Jeongguk gets him little trinkets—a music box, a cufflink, a cheap silver ring.
They stumble backward, into Jeongguk’s apartment, the door slamming shut behind them. The ring finger is bare, no traces of an engagement ring on his hand.
“Tae—” Jeongguk struggles to say, but the elder cuts him off.
“I was ready to be happy,” Taehyung spits, anger lacing his words, his voice. “I was ready to settle down and start a family.” He huffs out a laugh, but the sound is sad, joyless. Filled with a melancholy Jeongguk can’t quite comprehend. The grip on his collar tightens. And then, Taehyung crumbles, eyes incredibly sad. “But you put the thought in my mind and now my heart wants something it cannot have.”
Silence falls, deafeningly so. In the background, the clock ticks, a shifty thing. All they can hear is the sound of their heavy breathing.
Jeongguk looks at Taehyung. Really looks at him. The rims of Taehyung’s eyes are red from crying. The past few days have been a struggle for him, in ways Jeongguk cannot possibly imagine. And yet, after all this, Taehyung’s here, looking back at him.
In a small and quiet voice, Jeongguk says—
“You can have me.”
The clock ticks, the minute hand running to meet the hour hand. Two souls parting and finding each other, over and over again.
One moment, they’re staring at each other, an unbearable sorrow flickering in their eyes. The next moment, Taehyung pulls him closer, crashing their lips together. They meet in the middle, crossing the line. The line that would have kept them from the years of heartbreak, the years of yearning.
Taehyung’s lips are soft—softer than the rising sun. Softer than the snow of Mount Fuji Jeongguk woke up at dawn to capture on his camera in Tokyo some years ago. And if Jeongguk had known he’d get to taste this, feel this, kiss this, he wouldn’t have flown all around the world in search of a love that’s already right here, at home.
“Don’t go,” Taehyung says in between kisses, the exhale gentle on Jeongguk’s lips. “Settle down here. Stay here, with me.”
He pleads for something Jeongguk would have given him a long, long time ago. Would have unpacked his luggage, settled down here, if that was something Taehyung wished.
“I won’t. I won’t go anymore,” Jeongguk answers with kisses of his own, tender in the way he presses them onto Taehyung’s lips, whispering against him. His hands rest on the elder’s hip, thumbing the sliver of skin. “I’m here. With you.”
“Okay.” Taehyung kisses him, strong and passionate. Carries with it the hurt, the yearning. But also the fondest joy, the bliss of love. “Okay.”
❖
Three years down the road, when Taehyung pops the question in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, a soft smile on his face and euphoria radiating from his gaze, all Jeongguk can do is say: I do.
(Their wedding rings are two white gold bands, catching wisps of the faint gentle light.)