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“let me?” jeongguk scoots closer, inches forward, wanting to be close, wondering if yoongi needs this kind of closeness too. “only if it’s okay with you.”
“yeah. yeah, it’s okay,” yoongi nods, and lets his hands be held warmly in jeongguk’s, lets himself fall into the hands of someone safe.
jeongguk holds yoongi’s hands, like they’re precious, like they’re important, like they’re worthy. because that’s what yoongi is: precious, important, worthy of love and care, warmth and comfort, a place to feel safe and cared for.
jeongguk wants to ask how long yoongi’s been awake for, jeongguk wants to ask how long yoongi’s been sitting here alone and in the dark. jeongguk wants to ask a lot of questions, wants to understand, wants to know the ways he can help, wants to make it all better. jeongguk wants to take the pain away, wants to soothe the hurt, wants to be there – here – with yoongi until it’s all better, wants to be here when things are not, wants to be here even when things are. everywhere, anywhere, anyhow, jeongguk wishes there were more he can do, more he can offer.
but, he’s well aware that nothing is as simple as it seems, and everyone comes with their own set of tangled pasts, swallowed fears, and buried regrets. one step at a time, one step after the other.
it’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.
—
the world never stopped spinning, but there was a time when everything in jeongguk’s life felt like it had stopped, completely frozen in time, stuck at a standstill that felt like pure torture. because jeongguk wasn’t stuck in a happy place surrounded by peace and joy. rather, he was trapped in a place that was dark and lonely. he was trapped even though no one was holding him back, even though nothing was stopping him from moving forward and moving on.
but there are specific times and particular moments that he so desperately wanted to hold onto for a little bit longer, to remember it a little more before the memories start to fade. to capture the moment in his mind before it all begins to drift away from him forever.
jeongguk wakes up then, from a matrix-like dream to a matrix-like reality. he can’t seem to put a finger on which one is better and which one is worse.
he thinks that there’s a meaning to that, there’s probably a meaning to everything, a reason for everything, but sometimes he wishes there didn’t have to be. sometimes he wishes that he didn’t have to be. sometimes he wishes that he didn’t.
he’s spent a good portion of his younger days wandering, and a good portion of his adult life wandering. through the city, through the crowds, through the never-ending static in his brain. wandering, floating, swimming against the current.
maybe there’s a reason for everything, maybe everything does happen for a reason, for him to learn something. but up until now, everything he’s gone through has only made him feel like the only lesson in life is that we are here to suffer and that good things don’t happen to good people unless they’re lucky. and if you’re unlucky the way jeongguk is, then that’s just so fucking unfortunate.
at least right now, it’s no longer the peak of summer. at least the weather is finally cooling down. at least it’s breezy enough for him to wear layers of baggy clothes that he can hide behind and under. like a metaphor, disguised as something else, under the pretense of being someone else, anyone but himself.
there’s not much security or safety he feels on the daily. there’s not much tranquility he’s experienced since day one. so this will have to do for now. this will do for now. it has to, or he doesn’t know how else to go on.
when your survival instincts kick in, there’s no logic explanation to what is and what is not.
and that’s how things are for jeongguk – constantly in survival mode, freezing one moment, fighting the next, then packing up everything he owns for a flight with no return ticket.
the train slows down to a stop as it enters the station, and jeongguk slips through the doors like wind, like water, like smoke.
unnoticed, is how he likes to be, is how he prefers to live. doesn’t like the attention, doesn’t like when the focus is on him, feels utterly uncomfortable just thinking about it. it’s not so much that he despises people and contact and a mutual connectedness to one another. he’s grown to feel this way, and for what? perhaps to defend himself, perhaps to protect himself and to minimize the chances of getting hurt, perhaps all of this and so much more.
he keeps the pandora’s box closed and locked, afraid of the deeper truth beneath this not-so fancy facade.
but the distance only grows more distant, and now he’s left with not much but himself. isn’t that what he wanted though, when he pushed those who tried to get close to him away? isn’t that what he wanted after all, to finally be left alone and unnoticed?
the irony of it all is sometimes hilarious and other times miserable, and jeongguk knows that misery loves company; some days jeongguk will choose misery for a false sense of temporary companionship. if he closes his eyes and ignores the noise, ignores the ringing pain, it’s almost enough to trick himself into believing this will do, that he is fine living like this, that living like this is enough.
jeongguk jolts awake, with shuddering fear rushing through his entire body.
it’s just a dream, it’s all a dream.
—
funny the way people turn their misfortunes into jokes as a way to cope, because while yoongi hasn’t smiled, much less laughed, in a long time, his first reaction to seeing the new message lighting up on his phone is to snicker, then chuckle, then full on laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.
brother [7:10 am]
mom wants you home this weekend. don’t even think about saying no.
all he can do is laugh. at how unbelievably comical this whole situation is. he reads the text over once more just to make sure he read it right, and then stops laughing.
because it’s really not that funny, it’s really not funny at all. but yoongi can’t help but to laugh, because he doesn’t know how else to react. he doesn’t know what else he can possibly do besides to laugh or to cry tears of anger and resentment as he tries to grieve what he doesn’t even understand he’s lost.
it was such a long time ago, anyway. he should be over it now. if he’s not over it, at least he should be used to it by now. but he’s not, and he doesn’t quite know what to do about it. no one’s taught him how to cope, and every way he’s come up with himself has only come around to bite him in the ass.
he stops laughing, because that doesn’t solve anything, because that doesn’t change the reality of a situation he has no control over, because he’s long learned to push it away and pretend it’s not there, because he’s spent long enough waiting for people who don’t even realize they need to change, because he’s lived like this all his life and he’s tired.
because he’s on a train full of people, and laughing or crying is not what he wants to be doing. not at a time and place like this. not in broad daylight, amongst tens to hundreds of people just trying to get through the day, very much like himself.
yoongi feels miserable, but that’s nothing he hasn’t felt before.
this feeling of misery isn’t new, this repeating journey to and from work isn’t new, this so-called family treating him this way certainly isn’t new either.
so why is he still shocked? why is he still hurt by the same things and the same people and the same words that he’s heard over and over again?
why isn’t he used to this by now? why isn’t he used to living and feeling this way even after all this time?
the anger and frustration get shoved aside, together with all the passengers pushing and shoving each other to get off the train.
yoongi steps off onto the platform, and braces himself for another day, tries not to think about the weekend, tries but fails miserably to ignore the elephant in the room.
—
do good things ever happen to good people? have good things always happened to good people but not to jeongguk not because he’s a special case but because he’s just not good enough of a person? because he’s just not good enough?
if that were the case, then jeongguk really wouldn’t be surprised by that version of the truth.
it’s as regular of a friday night as it can be. people getting off work, heading to bars, meeting up with friends, returning home after a long week of strenuous work.
jeongguk is no different. all he wants is to get home as soon as possible, before any and all sorts of weekend shenanigans can begin. he just wants some peace and quiet. but too bad for him, because this friday evening is going to be anything but peaceful and quiet.
it all started with an argument coming from a few seats down.
he’s on the very same train he always takes, that’s nothing new. witnessing commotion and hearing banter especially on a friday evening is also nothing new. but getting dragged – quite literally – into the mess is not something jeongguk expected would ever happen to him.
jeongguk tries to ignore it at first, because he doesn’t like loud noises and hates seeing people fight. he tries his best to keep to himself and pay no attention to whatever kind of mess is beginning to unfold beside him. but the arguing only gets louder – to be fair, it’s not exactly an argument when only one of the two people are yelling – and the next thing he knows, before jeongguk can even register what’s happening, he’s pushed aside one second, and crashing to the ground the next.
he’s not the only one, though, because when he looks up from the floor, there’s someone beside him, scrambling to get up and help jeongguk up too, an apology already on the way.
before anything else can happen – god, what more could possibly happen – and before anyone else gets whirled into this mess, the train reaches the station. jeongguk pushes himself up and doesn’t think twice when he grabs the stranger by the elbow, swiftly leading them off the train.
like a movie scene in slow motion, the train doors close, leaving the other man in the train, staring at the two of them on the platform in complete disbelief.
jeongguk’s heart is pounding, hammering so hard against his chest he has to press his palm over his sternum to physically suppress the pain. the realization and anxiety kick in simultaneously, and while jeongguk frantically searches for the nearest wall to lean on or a bench to sit on, a hand is offered his way.
“there’s a bench just over there,” the stranger says immediately, noticing how unwell jeongguk looks. “can you make it? lean on me if you need to.”
jeongguk accepts the offer, because he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to try and manage things on his own in his current state – a lesson learned the hard one too many times – and allows himself to be led to the bench, allows himself a little support.
when they both sit down, or something closer to collapsing for jeongguk, he closes his eyes and buries his face between his knees, in hopes of dulling all of his senses that are in overdrive like a malfunctioning machine. he needs to calm down before he can think properly, he needs the panic to pass before he can face whatever just happened.
he’s not sure how much time has passed, and thankfully this station is relatively quiet and not as busy as the others. there’s a good amount of space for jeongguk to breathe without feeling cramped and trapped.
he lifts his head to find the stranger still sitting beside him, and once he notices jeongguk looking, he twists open a newly bought bottle of water (jeongguk wonders when and where he managed to get that) and hands it to jeongguk.
“here,” the stranger says, apologetic and worried. “i’m really sorry about what happened earlier. how are you feeling?”
jeongguk just nods and accepts the water, trying to figure out how he’s feeling and if he’s feeling any better than he did just a moment ago. he thinks he is, even if it’s just the slightest bit. “thanks,” he says finally, “better now, i think. had a bit of a panic, but it’ll pass eventually. how about you?”
“yeah, i’m okay. just a little–“ he looks at the inside of his palm where it most likely got scratched up during the whole commotion. “i’ll handle that later, it’s no big deal. were you on your way home? i can get you a ride or something? i should make it up to you for earlier. i’m really sorry again.”
“you’re hurt,” is all jeongguk blurts out, without answering any of the string of questions he was just asked. and maybe it’s his natural instincts to want to help, maybe it’s the way this stranger shows so little regard for his own injuries, maybe it’s the way it reminds jeongguk so much of himself that has jeongguk feeling a different kind of constricting in his chest. “that looks painful,” it makes jeongguk want to cry all of a sudden, all the nerves and tears he’s been holding back for god knows how long now, but he decides now isn’t the time for that. “is it painful? maybe we should go to a hospital? or just a clinic, to get it checked.”
and the thing is, jeongguk knows that he’s probably being too adamant, too stubborn, especially towards someone he doesn’t even know. it’s none of your business, jeongguk thinks to himself. says, “sorry, i didn’t mean to be so pushy.”
“it’s okay. thanks for your concern,” and jeongguk wishes the stranger didn’t sound so apologetic and guilty. “no, you’re right, i should probably get this checked out. you too though, just in case. i’ll cover the fees so don’t worry about that.”
“okay,” jeongguk agrees then adds, “i’m jeongguk, by the way.”
“thank you, and sorry,” he can’t help but to keep repeating those words. “i’m yoongi.”
jeongguk accepts, the thanks, the sorrys, and the suggestion of going to the hospital together, not because someone is offering to cover his hospital fees, but because something in him tells him that they should go together, that he should make sure yoongi gets his wound treated, that this whole situation is taken care of, and that yoongi is safe, considering what happened on the train.
everything gets taken care of at the hospital rather quickly. thankfully neither of them were hurt badly. yoongi gets his hand bandaged, and they are both advised to take it easy for the next few days.
phone numbers are exchanged, because yoongi insists that he make it up to jeongguk properly another time and that covering for his medical fees does not count. and jeongguk says okay fairly easily, because he doesn’t think he would mind seeing yoongi again, doesn’t think he would mind getting to know yoongi a little more; he did seem like a kind person after all.
—
yoongi thinks about skipping the dreaded weekend family visit, but ends up going anyway; the guilt will always eat away at him regardless of the choice he makes, so he goes, and everything is horrible, to no one’s surprise.
the day stretches out like a rubber band ready to snap, and sure enough, it does just that. everything snaps, and everyone snaps, except for yoongi who’s always been on the receiving end of everyone’s poor temper and non-existent empathy. he doesn’t know why he even bothers anymore, he doesn’t understand why these full-grown adults can’t have a peaceful dinner when it’s just once a month, and if every single person under this roof knows that it will not end well, why put pieces of different puzzles together with brute force and getting upset when nothing fits.
so he leaves, because walking away is better for his heart even if it’s going to hurt for a long long time. he walks away, because there has got to be some place in a universe so vast where he can and will belong. that’s really all yoongi’s ever wanted. to finally belong.
maybe it’s wishful thinking, for he’s never felt a sense of belonging in his life thus far. but a little dreaming and hoping never hurt anyone, right?
—
months pass, and yoongi hasn’t visited his family since. it breaks his heart in a way he can’t comprehend, like losing something he never had, like missing someone he doesn’t even know, like holding onto a memory that’s never existed in the first place.
life hasn’t changed much apart from that. he only saw his family once a month, and now he doesn’t see them at all. it’s better this way, he reminds himself, keeping a distance between the people that ultimately hurt you is the right thing to do, even if it hurts now.
but the guilt eats away at him like a wild vulture feeding on carcasses.
yoongi is lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, when his phone buzzes on the nightstand. he debates whether to leave it for tomorrow or check it right now. he can’t think of anyone who would text him on a saturday night.
out of curiosity, he reaches for his phone.
jeongguk [10:36 pm]
hey it’s jeongguk (from the train station)
hope you’re doing well and that your hand is okay
yoongi stares at the message for a while. he takes a look at his palm and surely it has healed almost completely now, leaving a light scar where the cut was deepest. he hasn’t thought much about it, mostly because he’s just been ignoring it for the sake of his own peace of mind. yoongi knows that dwelling too hard on this one instance will lead him down a rabbit-hole of memories that are still too raw and painful. he knows that not thinking about it isn’t exactly the best thing to do either, but he needs more time, he needs more time.
one thing yoongi did think about though, is how lucky he is to have run into jeongguk that day on the train. he’s been meaning to text jeongguk, to thank him through text and maybe even meet up to him in person again, but he’s been far too busy with work, far too drenched in his own thoughts, far too drained from family, and really, the list goes on.
yoongi [10:52 pm]
hey thanks for checking in
my hand is better now
sorry i should’ve texted you sooner
jeongguk [10:55 pm]
oh that’s fine
glad to hear your hand’s better now
yoongi [10:57 pm]
thanks
how’ve you been?
jeongguk [10:59 pm]
no worries
stressful week but i’m alright
you?
yoongi [11:03 pm]
same
definitely could be better haha
jeongguk [11:05 pm]
that makes two of us then
yoongi [11:08 pm]
would you like to grab coffee some time?
you know, take a bit of a break?
jeongguk [11:10 pm]
yeah i’d like that
—
yoongi figured out fairly quickly, that when jeongguk is going through a panic attack or feeling all too much all at once, what helps him the most is to feel physically safe. it calms him and slows everything down, it gives him a sense of security and safety that he never knew was possible, never knew he needed so badly.
he simply never knew that being close to another human being could feel like this. that it’s possible for close contact with another person to feel good and safe and comforting. he just never knew. how was he supposed to know?
they had agreed to meet at a coffee shop in the city the next day, but when jeongguk calls yoongi fifteen minutes before their agreed meeting time, not because he prefers calling over texting, but because he needs to let yoongi know that he’s going to be late and that he’s sorry, and that yoongi can just leave if he’s got other things to do, and that he’s so so sorry, and–
“jeongguk?” yoongi’s voice is slow and calm, the complete opposite of what jeongguk probably sounds like right now. something must have happened for jeongguk to sound so frantic, yoongi thinks. then he remembers the day they met, the lingering panic bubbling through jeongguk, and says, “breathe, jeongguk. take a few deep breaths with me, okay?” yoongi instructs and hears jeongguk take a shaky gulp of air on the other side of the line, hears a train pass by and arrival announcements in the background. “can you tell me where you are? name of the station? i’ll go to you, yeah?”
“okay,” jeongguk tells him, tells him the name of the station, wants to say sorry but ends up saying please instead.
this wasn’t supposed to happen, but then again, he doesn’t think that’s up to him to decide.
while he waits for yoongi to show up, he finds a bench to sit on, and tries to calm himself down the way he always has. sometimes it works, sometimes it helps, and sometimes it does absolutely nothing apart from making it all worse. sometimes he thinks about giving up trying, when he knows his thoughts won’t just stop spilling over the edge, when his body won’t stop acting like they have a mind of their own.
he doesn’t want to garner any attention, he doesn’t want other people to see how crazy he feels. so he plops himself down on the nearest bench, and wills himself to hold it together.
get it together, you’re being embarrassing, jeongguk thinks to himself. and he wants to argue, with his own head, that it’s not his fault, that he doesn’t want this to happen either, that he knows it’s embarrassing, but what is he supposed to do? he’s tried everything, he’s tried all the ways he can think of, but nothing works, nothing ever helps.
jeongguk looks up from the ground when his name is called, and sees yoongi right in front of him, breathing hard. did he run here? jeongguk thinks, i made him rush here, it’s my fault.
“hey,” yoongi approaches him and stops when he’s one step away, asks, “is it okay if i sit next to you?”
jeongguk is a little confused but nods anyway, and he’s glad yoongi wasn’t here earlier to see him during the peak of his panic attack. that would’ve been horrible, yoongi shouldn’t have to deal with that. “you didn’t have to ask?”
“mm, i should though,” yoongi says matter-of-factly, like it’s the most normal and given thing in the world. “water?”
it’s all starting to feel like a reoccurring dream, and honestly, jeongguk feels like he might really be dreaming. the train station, his panic attack, yoongi, sitting on the bench, a bottle of water.
“i’m sorry,” jeongguk looks yoongi in the eyes and apologizes as earnestly as he can. even if this is a dream, he knows how to apologize. “really, i’m sorry for not making it and even asking you to come here.”
“you don’t have to be, not for something like this,” yoongi tells him.
and for some reason, jeongguk doesn’t seem to understand. for even odder reasons, he can’t stop the tears from pouring out. he’s not sad? why is he crying? where are the tears coming from all of a sudden?
“sorry,” he frantically wipes the tears away with his sleeves. “oh god, i’m sorry. please just– ignore this? i don’t know why– the day wasn’t supposed to go like this. i wanted us to have a good time. and this is… anything but that.”
jeongguk is all the more confused when yoongi asks if he needs a hug. that’s not something he’s ever been asked, and that’s not an experience he’s familiar with at all, not growing up and certainly not in his adulthood. being hugged, being held, being close with someone else because they both want to be. he hesitates, but eventually says okay, because maybe he does need this, maybe a hug wouldn’t be so bad.
“we have many more days to meet up again, go to the coffee shop, go somewhere else too, if you want,” yoongi sounds so kind, so honest, and so sincere. he wraps his arms around jeongguk then, just holding him there, holding him still.
jeongguk stays very still in yoongi’s arms, not sure if it’s okay to relax and put his weight onto yoongi. but then yoongi holds him a little closer, not suffocating in any way, and jeongguk feels a wave of calm wash over him.
interlaced between what seems like a million thoughts running through jeongguk’s mind, he thinks,
the human body is so warm.
—
there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
it’s the middle of the night, something close to four or five in the morning, and yoongi knows that jeongguk is usually fast asleep at this hour. so he’s a little startled when there’s a knock, and a quiet voice that follows soon after,
“yoongi? are you in there?”
the door isn’t locked, the lights aren’t even on, but somehow jeongguk felt like he should knock first. he doesn’t get a response, so he goes on, “i woke up and you weren’t in bed so i thought i’d check on you, but none of the light were on.”
he waits a little more, until the door finally opens, and yoongi slowly emerges from the bathroom. it’s as if the world was moving in slow-motion, the way yoongi moves his body, the way he drags his feet and walks straight into jeongguk, resting his head on jeongguk’s shoulder, loosely wrapping his arms around jeongguk’s middle.
it’s a quiet night, and yoongi is even quieter.
jeongguk doesn’t know what exactly happened, but he knows that yoongi needs him now.
“i’m not going anywhere,” jeongguk reassures him. “i’m right here.”
minutes or maybe hours pass, and sunlight starts to filter in through the window blinds of yoongi’s little apartment flat, one that is basically theirs now with how often jeongguk spends his days and nights here. and right now, they’re huddled up on yoongi’s old couch, similar to their regular nights after work, except there’s no rom-com movie or cute animal videos playing in the background like usual.
yoongi hasn’t said much since jeongguk checked up on him hours ago. he tries to, and wants to, but he simply can’t get the words out, can’t get the words right. “it’s not because i don’t trust you. i do, and i want to talk about it, but right now i just can’t.”
“that’s okay. we don’t have to talk about it right now,” jeongguk holds yoongi close, close, closer, noticing the frustration in yoongi’s voice, the furrowing of his brows. “whenever you’re ready, i’ll be right here.”
yoongi whispers a small thank you, and finally manages to drift off to sleep against jeongguk. after what seems like an eternity of feeling like his eyes are being pried open and forced to stay awake, he falls asleep hoping he won’t wake up alone.
not that he ever really does anymore, with jeongguk around more often than not, but the fear of being left alone has been the one constant in his life all along; the memories of the past cling onto him like the last hanging leaf resisting winter.
he doesn’t wake up to the other side of the bed cold and empty. instead, he wakes up to jeongguk sleeping soundly next to him, breath even and steady.
this feeling right now, he wants to hold it close and keep it in his heart forever. because it’s not very often that jeongguk gets proper rest, always waking up multiple times in the night, always having a hard time falling and staying asleep. sometimes it’s the nightmares, sometimes it’s his own waking thoughts that bring him down a spiral, sometimes it’s a spiral within a dream. and almost every single time, jeongguk will wake up in shock, waking yoongi up in the process, and still, the first thing he always does is to apologize for waking up again.
(“just a dream,” yoongi will say, and pull jeongguk into his arms, then gently run his fingers through jeongguk’s tangled hair. “it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
“i’m sorry,” jeongguk can’t help but beat himself up over this time after time.
“don’t be,” yoongi will say this time after time, too. “it’s not your fault.”)
yoongi thinks about how worried jeongguk must have been when he woke up and yoongi wasn’t there. did he wake up because of a nightmare? was he already awake when yoongi left the room? how did he know yoongi would be in the bathroom, even if it was pitch-black?
yoongi reaches over to sweep the jeongguk’s bangs out of his face. jeongguk deserves the world, and yoongi wishes there was a way to give jeongguk just that and so much more.
—
“anything you want to do?” yoongi turns to ask jeongguk as they arrive at the rose garden. they’ve been meaning to visit for a while now, but two adults who’ve got taxes and rent to pay, work unfortunately can’t be put off any time they want.
so they planned ahead of time, set a specific date for this, and here they are.
“is this a date?” jeongguk almost giggles with how shy and ridiculously in love he is. he’s wanted to come to this park and specifically the rose garden with yoongi since what feels like forever. and that day is finally here, they’re finally here, together.
“huh? we’ve been dating for almost a year, no?” yoongi wasn’t expecting jeongguk to ask that, but he laughs along with him, because how can he resist one jeon jeongguk who is all smiles and rosy cheeks in a pretty rose garden. “but yes, this is indeed a date.”
jeongguk’s smile widens and his cheeks feel even warmer than before, the sun feels nice on his skin, the roses are pretty, but yoongi even prettier. he thinks about it for a second, then puts his hand out, palms up.
yoongi looks at jeongguk, then at his extended hand, then back at jeongguk. and it clicks then, that jeongguk wants to hold his hand, that jeongguk wants yoongi to hold his hand, that jeongguk wants to hold hands.
it’s not some mind-blowing revelation or shocking initiative, the act of hand-holding. it’s not like they have never held hands before either. they hold hands plenty. in fact, they hold hands often, because that’s a specific and special kind of intimacy that they share together.
but for jeongguk, and for yoongi too, this means so much.
“this?” yoongi interlaces their fingers together, a little unsure at first, clammy like a teenager on his first date with his crush. because jeongguk has never initiated anything like this, has never been the one to ask for anything he wants. “it’s okay?”
“yes, very,” jeongguk gives their joined hands a squeeze, and decides he wants to swing their arms between them just because he can. “more than okay. i’m happy.”
“me too, jeongguk,” yoongi lets jeongguk swing their arms high, lets himself be dragged around the garden, smelling each rose that jeongguk says this one is nice. yoongi, smell this one, too! and yoongi’s got nothing to be embarrassed about. there’s nothing embarrassing about this. there’s nothing truer and more precious to him than love like this. “i’m happy, too.”