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He first meets Taehyung as a fumbling fourteen-year old in the thick of summer, when the leaves are still trapped in an almost fluorescent green and the sun beats down mercilessly with every step out of the house. Their neighbours are friendly people, his mum says, and titters when he whines about having to invite them over for dinner. But as stubborn as Jeongguk is, he's not completely infallible, and it takes little else for him to head over to the little house across the street, ring the doorbell and say a few choice words.
"Hello! Do you want some watermelon from Daegu?"
The boy who opens the door has large features: big eyes, big nose, big mouth, big face. It makes his face look a little funny but pleasant all at once, even with that ridiculous boxy grin he's sporting. This is his first encounter with Kim Taehyung, and the last one for a long while.
He moves to Seoul at the age of eighteen. He floated through high school, doing only the bare minimum before rushing off to the dance studio every day, twisting his body to the music until he collapses to the ground. This is the only way to get out of here, he thinks.
But the big city is entirely different from Busan. Instead of being sandwiched between mountains on one side and the Pacific coastline on the other, a cool breeze dampening the scorching heat of summer, Seoul is so full. It is full of people, full of life. Even in the sweltering heat - he can feel the sweat drip down his back the moment he steps out of the tiny dorm, so much worse than home - everyone still gets about their business. Subways and buses operate as per normal, tens of dozens of people squeezing onto a single bus like sardines (except with much worse a smell), roads are still crowded even as the heat and sweat permeates through, and everything is about shoving elbows and pushing and pulling. Seoul is about getting things done and getting things done quick.
On his third day in Seoul, he returns to the dorm from his new job as an assistant dance instructor. The pay is shit and the hours unpredictable, but it's the only thing he trusts himself with. He collapses onto the bunk bed as soon as he returns, shuts his eyes, not even bothered by the stench of sweat that's bound to cling to his sheets.
"Hello, I'm Taehyung!"
He blinks open once, twice. His vision is blurry enough that he begins to question if it's a mere hallucination, but apparently someone likes to play nasty tricks on him because no, it's not. It's Kim Taehyung, the over-exuberant neighbour from his preteen days, the one he hasn't seen in four years but whose face is still etched in his mind.
"I'm Jeongguk," he replies. He waits a while for recognition to sink in, but Taehyung is apparently as stubborn as Jeongguk, because there's no change in expression. Then he adds, "From Busan."
"Oh, that's cool," he chirps. He plops down onto Jeongguk's bed. "I'm from Daegu. That's pretty near, right?"
"Not really."
Jeongguk doesn't think he looks that different. Sure, he's much taller now, his shoulders are broader and he's gained quite a bit of muscle, but his friends always tease him about his doe-eyed baby face that tricks people into thinking he's a wide-eyed country boy. And Taehyung - Taehyung looks older, jawline and cheekbones more prominent and features sharper, but he still looks the same, Jeongguk thinks.
"What are you in Seoul for?" Jeongguk asks. He sits up and there's a sick satisfaction when he realises he's taller than Taehyung.
"I'm a musician," Taehyung says. It's now that Jeongguk realises how low his voice is, more baritone and bass than tenor, a thick, gravelly timbre. "Still trying, of course. I just came here a month ago."
He starts playing with the loose strands of the bedsheet that have come unfurled. "And you?"
"Musician, dancer. I think."
"Idol?"
"No." He shakes his head. "I don't think so."
"You think too much," Taehyung says. He lies down on the bed and Jeongguk's tempted to shove him off, because this is his bed, damn it. "But I don't think enough myself, so I can't say anything."
Jeongguk meets the other tenants, five other boys all older than him and with aspirations just as large. There's Seokjin, who wants to become a chef; Namjoon, who's performing as an underground rapper; Yoongi, Namjoon's friend who works overtime as a music producer for a small hip hop label; Hoseok, reigning champion of underground dance competitions; and Jimin, Taehyung's best friend who dabbles in everything from theater to dance to music.
The seven of them make for an odd bunch. They have stars in their eyes and dreams in their hearts. They slave in the day, do what they love at night and come back home to the dorm when dawn starts to settle in.
"Soju?" Namjoon asks. He holds the bottle out to Jeongguk. They don't have enough cash for proper cups, and paper cups would make this seem a lot more pathetic, Yoongi said. "Hold on, are you even old enough?"
"I'm eighteen, hyung." He rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle, takes a large swig before passing it on to Jimin on his left. "Don't try to be funny. Even Jiminnie-hyung looks younger than me."
Jimin doesn't catch the comment, caught up in a conversation with Taehyung and Hoseok, but Yoongi does, and the elder lets out a laugh that turns heads.
It's three-thirty in the morning. Summer nights are short and fleeting; the sun rears its head by three or four, painting the sky a light blue for most of the day, as if to make up for the dreariness of winter. The rooftop's the best way to see this in action, and it really is pleasant to have the company of six others while he watches navy fade to light blue, Jeongguk thinks, even if he's dead tired and should really be sleeping right now.
They begin to leave, one by one. It's Seokjin and Namjoon first, followed by Hoseok, then Yoongi and Jimin, and soon enough, only Jeongguk and Taehyung are left on the rooftop. The sky's completely bright now, the city of Seoul still and quiet beneath their feet.
Jeongguk gets up and takes a few tentative steps forward, sits himself down on the ledge and lets his legs dangle down. His feet are huge, the size of a few buildings and a bit more. It's only five stories down but it seems like forever, and he traces the vein-like roads with his feet.
"Come on, Taehyung," Jeongguk finds himself saying. Taehyung's still slumped against the wall. "This is fun."
"You're going to fall, Jeonggukkie," the boy warns. He stands up. "Come back."
"I thought you'd be up for anything." He starts swinging his legs harder, the loud thump of his heels hitting the wall echoing loudly. "Boo, what a party pooper."
A strangled sound escapes Taehyung's throat. "Seriously, get back here. Right now."
"Alright, alright." Jeongguk takes his time swinging his body around and getting up. As he takes his first step back toward Taehyung, he slips.
It's a tiny slip, a mere trip, but it sends his body falling down and his feet meet nothing but air, lower legs dangling off the building. For a moment, he feels his heart plummet and his stomach sink - this is how he is going to die, with (dead) stars in his eyes and (unfulfilled) dreams in his heart and (really cheap, low-quality) soju in his stomach.
But it's not that dangerous anyway, because only his legs are in any danger of falling off. In spite of that, Taehyung rushes forward with a ferocity that Jeongguk's never seen on him, grabs Jeongguk's arms with both hands and pulls him to safety.
"Oh my god, you idiot," Taehyung shrills. He's trapped Jeongguk between his arms, face buried in the crook of the younger's neck, and his vice-like grip does nothing to calm Jeongguk's rapid pulse. Then he pushes Jeongguk away and begins hitting his chest, over and over and over, eyes bloodshot and face red. "You. Fucking. Idiot."
When Taehyung's calmed down and Jeongguk has gotten his heart under control, they head out for ice cream, licking soft serve at six in the morning to celebrate Jeongguk's first near-death experience; after all, what is summer without a taste of death and sweets?
Jeongguk joins Hoseok's dance crew at some point in middle of summer. He was hesitant at first, but Hoseok is as determined as he is optimistic, and he eventually annoys Jeongguk enough that the younger agrees to try it out for a couple of weeks.
And he loves it. Even though he is usually dead tired after conducting lessons at the studio, Hoseok's new crew is a ragtag team of eleven (now twelve) furiously passionate dancers, able to move their bodies in a way that Jeongguk longs to. He doesn't feel like he measures up, but they're nice enough to tell him he does, and for the first time in his life, he accepts compliments with a smile. The only downside is that he gets home even later now, often showering at one or two, and by that time the sun has already started to cast a blanket of orange over the horizon.
He lies down on the bed with a towel around his neck and hair wet from a shower. A few seconds later, someone climbs in next to him, and he knows who it is even before the breath hits his neck.
The sensation of Taehyung's little puffs of air hitting his neck is like a familiar friend, the kind that you see all the time yet never get sick of. One of his arms lies across Jeongguk's stomach, and his eyes are closed, long lashes caressing the top of cheekbones.
It took Jeongguk only a week at the dorms to discover Taehyung's penchant for sneaking into people's beds, particularly his own. It was a shock at first and he'd kicked the other boy off his bed in a panic, but he was nothing if not persistent, and Jeongguk has long since accepted the fact that there's no such thing as sleeping alone, not when Taehyung is around. It's sort of nice. It's nice to have the warmth of another body next to his, to know that someone else can't sleep without him being there. Sort of like reaffirming his existence, he thinks.
"Goodnight," Jeongguk whispers. His lips touch the elder's forehead; a while ago, this would have been no man's land, but physical contact is no longer an issue, not after weeks of sharing a bed.
"You mean 'good morning', yeah?" Taehyung yawns. He smiles, a familiar rectangular grin, and nuzzles their noses together, calls it an 'eskimo kiss'. "Good morning! You shouldn't be getting back so late."
"Mm," Jeongguk says. He can feel slumber calling for him. His limbs are tired, eyelids heavy. "Let me sleep, then. Goodnight, Taehyung."
"Goodnight, Jeonggukkie," he echoes.
He swears he feels a light pressure against his lips, but falls asleep before he can do anything about it.
Jeongguk begins to realise what it means to like someone as they enter August. He's had flings before, nameless faces sweating and moaning underneath him in places that he'd rather not remember, but he was never the one to initiate. He didn't care enough to.
But, he realises, every time he sees Taehyung, he either wants to coddle him to death or press him against a wall and trace every vein with his mouth. Every touch leaves him unexplainably happy and wanting more, every secret look and shared laugh makes his heart swell to no end. It's not this way with the other hyungs, he realises. Sure, he laughs at Jimin and is happy to talk to Seokjin, but it's not the same.
It happens when they're both drunk on soju on a Thursday night. Namjoon had brought back a few bottles from his underground hyungs, and Taehyung proposed they steal a bottle from the rapper's stash. Since the elder usually slept like the dead, it wasn't that hard.
It's not good quality alcohol, but it's alcohol nonetheless. It messes with his mind and his heart in ways that are inexplicably brilliant and downright horrible, and he knows that if they continue playing shots with Haikyuu!! - some new anime Taehyung's pulled out, eager to laud its merits of sportsmanship and camaraderie - he's going to end up with a heavy dose of regret in the morning.
A quick spike is carried out successfully, and they cheer loudly.
"They work so well together, don't they?" Taehyung slurs. He leans his head onto Jeongguk's shoulder, and as he speaks, the bitter smell of alcohol and something uniquely Taehyung hits Jeongguk's skin. "So. Cool."
"I wish I could play volleyball," Jeongguk sighs. "I've always been athletic, you know. Number one! But I never tried volleyball. If I tried, I'm sure I could be as great as Kageyama."
"Someone needs to deflate that giant ego of yours." He spits onto Jeongguk's shoulder, which elicits a laugh, but when his tongue slips out and leaves a small stripe across the younger's skin, the laughter immediately stops. "So rude, all the time."
Jeongguk's stiff, terse. The elder is even more brazen now, pressing his mouth onto Jeongguk's neck.
"So rude, walking around with your shirt off and in a fucking towel and making your stupid faces. I know you look good, don't rub it in my face, please and thank you."
Fucking hell, he's still licking his way across Jeongguk's skin, trying to map out each vein with his tongue. He clenches the bedsheets even harder.
"Do you know how unfair it is? Having to see you all the damn time? Look, don't touch? You know how many times Jimin has called me 'thirsty af'?" he asks. Shit, now his hands are on the hem of Jeongguk's shirt and creeping onto his stomach. He still can't move. Then the hands pause. "I don't know either."
He looks up, and it's strange how someone can look so erotic even while fully clothed and masked in the scent of alcohol. He peers up at Jeongguk, nose scrunched and eyes glazed. No way is he drunk enough to not know what he's doing; he has a higher tolerance than Jeongguk, that much is for sure.
When they kiss, there aren't any fireworks behind his eyes and there aren't any birds singing a song from a Disney film. When they kiss, it's a slow, languid process, one that has their lips moving against each other's, tongues tangling, and when Taehyung bites Jeongguk's lip, he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan. It's not a fight or a battle. It's a frustratingly slow kiss that has his hands moving across Taehyung's back, stomach, thighs, hips, all the places he can reach and some that he can't.
They fall asleep like that, naked legs tangled in dirty sheets, buried in each other's embrace, not knowing where one ends and the other begins.
Taehyung disappears the next day.
"I don't know, I don't know," Jeongguk repeats to himself. The others are just as confused. He's left his soft toys and giant bolster on his bed, but his bags, his instruments - everything - is gone.
Jimin is Taehyung's best friend, and even he doesn't know what happened. His usually jovial face is contorted into a frown; when he speaks, it's with a heavy tone of distress and worry, and Yoongi is the only one who can get the boy to smooth out his features, even if only for a second.
It must be my fault, Jeongguk thinks.
But even if Taehyung is gone, life goes on. The vibrant green of leaves gives way to brick reds and golden-browns, heat no longer suffocates them with every step out of the dorm (even if it is just as stifling and humid). There is an air of melancholy and sadness that blankets the group - once seven, now six - and it clings to Jeongguk even as he heads out on his own, to the dance studio, to the streets of Hongdae.
"He'll be back," Jimin says confidently. He admires that about Jimin, as much as he likes to tease his hyung; the ability to bounce back, to smile and exude sunshine wherever he goes and whatever the circumstances. Maybe that's why Yoongi always looks at the younger with that look in his eye.
Seokjin calls out from the common kitchen. "Alright, dinner's ready!"
Then he comes out and in his hands is a giant cake, poorly frosted and words barely decipherable, but lovely nonetheless.
"Happy birthday Jeon Jeongguk!" everyone cheers.
They sing a song, eat great food and he plasters on a smile for the rest of the evening. He can't even tell if his own smile is genuine any more.
It's a bit sad how his life moves on as if Taehyung was never part of it at all. He gets promoted to dance instructor, starts his own hip hop lesson that he gets paid substantially more for; their dance crew wins two competitions in a row, drawing praise from critics and magazines; he even learns how to rap and produce music from Yoongi and Namjoon. And all of this, in the nine months that Taehyung was missing.
When spring turns into summer, he leaves for Busan for a week, says a temporary goodbye to his hyungs and his friends. His parents greet him with tight smiles and stiff hugs, and the large house suddenly feels a lot emptier and a lot colder than the tiny dorm back in Seoul.
"Go invite our neighbours," his mother instructs on a Wednesday afternoon. It is hot, but not as hot as it is in Seoul, the cool ocean breeze lending a bit of relief. "The Kims, from across the road."
He's not young enough to have any more fight left in him, so he does as instructed.
"Hello!"
The boy who answers the door makes his heart ache. He almost clutches his chest, and has to grab his right hand with his left to physically stop himself from doing so. Taehyung's rectangular grin falters a bit, and his eyes dart away from Jeongguk onto a particularly interesting spot on the ground.
Jeongguk clears his throat. "I'm Jeon Jeongguk from across the street. We'd like to invite you and your family over for dinner tonight."
"Alright, thank you." He forces a smile. And when he looks up at Jeongguk, fuck, he wants to wrap Taehyung in his arms and never let him disappear again. But he knows Taehyung isn't his - Taehyung isn't anyone's - so he returns with a polite smile of his own and heads back home.
Dinner is a strange affair. The adults are obviously acquainted with each other, managing to make conversation even amidst the ostentatious decor of the dining room, all bright gold and heavy wood and unnecessarily large furniture. Jeongguk picks at his food and across the table, Taehyung does the same.
When his father starts getting drunk, Jeongguk excuses himself to his room. No one notices.
"Hi."
He looks up. "This is my room."
"You never minded," Taehyung shrugs. He makes his way toward Jeongguk, sits down on his bed such that their sides - their shoulders, their hips and thighs and arms - touch. "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I lived here? And not Daegu?"
Jeongguk doesn't dare to look at him. "We talked once, when I was fourteen and you were sixteen. Then we never talked again."
"I left." Taehyung lies down on Jeongguk's bed, the same way he does - no, did - back at the dorms. "Ran away from home. I hid in the back of someone's van, heading to Daegu. Turned out to be Jimin's family."
"Why are you back here?" Next to me?
"I left, and I changed." He pushes himself up onto his forearms, hollows out his cheeks. "Then I left again, and I changed again."
But summer is not a season of change, Jeongguk thinks. The leaves are stuck in a perpetual evergreen and people trapped in a perpetual heat. The ground is always dry and cracked and the grass is brown from a lack of rain. He craves winter in the summer, craves the winter that washes away the aftertaste of summer.
"I'm sorry."
Jeongguk doesn't know what his face looks like now, what his expression is like, and he doesn't want to. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"It was better to leave on a clean slate," he replies. "Up and go, you know?"
"Everyone was worried." His voice starts to crack.
"I'm sure they're not worrying anymore," Taehyung smiles. It's a smile that reeks of bitterness. "That's what I left for."
"You suck," Jeongguk whispers. His voice is soft and it's cracking and strangled, but there's a ferocity to it that he never knew he was capable of. "You're an awful person. An idiot. You don't deserve to apologise."
"Yeah." He closes his eyes. "I know."
A moment passes. "Will you go back?"
Taehyung's eyelids flutter open and this time, he looks Jeongguk straight in the eyes.
His words carry the weight of a promise. "Yeah, I will."
They leave for Seoul on Monday, bags at their feet, queuing up at the bus bay. Although they have started talking again, it is still strange, the dynamic nowhere near what it was like a year ago. Taehyung is quieter, more reserved, more careful with his words; seconds pass before words come out of his mouth, as if each syllable were carefully calculated and looked over. He leans away from Jeongguk, too, making sure not to let their bare skin touch; Jeongguk is both resentful and grateful for this.
But the bus is a small one and after stowing away their bags, Jeongguk realises that the seats are not spacious at all. When he sits next to Taehyung, their close proximity sends his heart racing and heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach. It's unfair how he's the only one that feels this way. It's unfair, it's frustrating.
The ride is long and although he occupies himself with reading manga, it's only a while before he finishes all three volumes of Tokyo Ghoul and needs something else to distract him.
A loud laugh from his side makes him jolt.
Taehyung is watching some anime or another, earphones plugged in and laptop perched atop his thighs. (Very nice-looking thighs, Jeongguk reluctantly acknowledges.) Some things don't change, then.
And as subtle as he was trying to be, Taehyung catches him eyeing the laptop. He holds out an earbud like a peace offering. Jeongguk hesitates; but gives in, in the end, because he's never really been able to say no to Taehyung.
When Taehyung returns to the dorms with Jeongguk, the younger feels a bit miffed that Taehyung already made arrangements with the landlord without him knowing. It's something completely stupid and inane and he really has no right to be upset over it, but he is, and it's making him frustrated.
Everyone else greets him with warm hugs and laughter and bright smiles. But there's no resentment or anger or frustration, no one is upset at Taehyung for completely disappearing for almost a year without notice.
"Around Christmas, he started emailing us," Namjoon comments offhandedly. The news sends Jeongguk's stomach sinking, makes his blood boil as much as it makes his heart hurt. Seokjin hurriedly slaps a hand over the other's mouth, but it's too late. The damage has been done. Taehyung isn't there for him to lash out at, so he holds it in, bottles up the anger and frustration for nighttime.
But Taehyung doesn't come back at regular times any more. He doesn't know if the boy is still a musician, chasing his dreams along the streets of Hongdae, or if he's dabbling in something else. He no longer slips into Jeongguk's bed without warning. He silently climbs into his own bunk above Jeongguk's, and the only way he ever knows that Taehyung is back is by the telltale sound of the ladder creaking with every step.
Jeongguk is persistent, though. He manages to catch Taehyung alone one Saturday afternoon where everyone else is out.
Taehyung lies on his bed with a guitar in his hands and a pen in his mouth, glasses perched on his nose. It would look adorable if not for the fact that Jeongguk knows said adorable person is a complete asshole.
"Why didn't you contact me?" Jeongguk asks. His voice is calm, like the waves right before a storm strikes. "Why did you keep in touch with everyone but me?"
Taehyung looks up and his mouth drops open, pen falling out. He glances sideways.
"Why? What did I do to deserve that?" Jeongguk insists. He's getting anxious now, runs a hand through his hair.
"It wasn't you," Taehyung says. "It was me."
"Stop it," Jeongguk spits. "That's a fucking cliche and not an answer."
"I-I didn't want you to worry about me." He covers his face with his hands, and the action is so characteristically Taehyung that he almost wants to reach out and clasp the elder's hands with his own. "It would've been better if you forgot."
"And who are you to assume what is better for me?"
Silence. Taehyung continues to bury his face in his hands, and Jeongguk's words - a witty reply, a sarcastic remark - are caught in his throat.
This wasn't what he thought their reunion would be like. It's a vicious cycle of silent stares, clipped remarks and awkward conversation, a cycle that it doesn't take long for the others to pick up on.
"It's summer, guys. Don't ruin the weather with your shitty attitudes," Yoongi says. He is blunt and critical, but no one can say that he doesn't think twice before he speaks.
"Summer weather is shitty anyway," Jeongguk says. He's gotten comfortable enough around his hyungs to be a bit of a smartass, and this gets him a light smack on the arm, courtesy of Seokjin.
"I don't know what is going on with you guys, but as long as you don't bring your pessimism to the dinner table, I don't care," Seokjin says, as he places the pot of chicken soup on the table. "Okay. Well. I care, but I won't care as much."
"You should probably stop talking, the awkward is starting to leak out," Yoongi says.
"Say that again and I will give you the burnt parts next time we have beef."
"Which is never," Yoongi whispers under his breath, soft enough for Seokjin to overlook but loud enough for Jimin to let out a high-pitched giggle.
The dynamic of the group is still somewhat there; Seokjin is still the mother hen, Namjoon still astounds everyone with his lack of grace, Hoseok still brightens up the room with his permanent optimism, Jimin still manages to get treated like the maknae and Yoongi still launches biting remarks every now and then. But it's different, different when Taehyung doesn't interrupt with his weird facts about giraffe reproduction or strange antics, different when Jeongguk stays completely silent instead of teasing his hyungs. They're all together again, but it sure doesn't feel like it.
Taehyung says he's changed, but Jeongguk has, too. He decides that being mature and facing his problems head on is one of his New Year's resolutions, and so it is on a Friday night at the rooftop that he extends an offer of peace.
"Alright," Taehyung shrugs. Well, that was surprisingly easy.
He hesitates, then moves to sit down next to Taehyung against the wall. "Are you still doing music?"
Taehyung turns toward Jeongguk, eyes wide and a smile playing on the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I'm working with Yoongi to produce some tracks for his label."
"Oh. Cool."
What is this, really? Jeongguk is literally twiddling his thumbs while Taehyung strums his guitar and it's making him unnecessarily anxious and jittery.
"You?" Taehyung asks.
The question jolts him out of his reverie. "I'm teaching dance, and competing with Hoseok's crew. I tried rapping but I'm no good with words."
"And producing?"
"I tried that too. I might do it. I think."
"You think too much," Taehyung smiles. It's not his embarrassingly boxy smile or an outright laugh, but at least it's a genuine tug of the lips that leaves his eyes all crinkled and Jeongguk's heart in a familiar mess. "And I don't think enough."
"I was always going to wait for you, you know."
"I know."
Autumn sees that green leaves turn maroon and coats the ground with oranges and browns, and winter covers sidewalks and rooftops and everything else with a vast expanse of dirty white, sends a chill through the air that leaves hands blue and noses red.
The past few months saw progress; slow progress, but progress nonetheless. Taehyung's not the same as he was two summers ago; the exuberance and an almost alien-like, four-dimensional personality that Jeongguk learned to love about the elder no longer exhibited itself as strongly as before, and it makes him a little nostalgic whenever Taehyung makes an offhand comment that is completely off-topic. They're no longer as touchy, but Taehyung's started climbing into his bed again, and it makes him a little happy to feel needed.
"It's our first Christmas as seven!" Hoseok cheers. Namjoon bangs the table twice in celebration and causes the rice bowl to fall off the edge. He gives a remorseful apology whilst Seokjin nags at him and cleans up the mess.
Seokjin has prepared a feast, and everyone else has tried to help out. Keyword, of course, being 'tried to'. (Namjoon was specifically prohibited from entering the kitchen, relegated to cleaning up the common area instead.)
Jeongguk was in charge of rolling up the gimbap, and odd but delicious choice for Christmas. They're not going to win any contests any time soon, but he'd stolen a couple for a taste test and is glad (and proud) to claim that they taste good.
As the evening carries on, they get progressively drunk on happiness and good food and alcohol. It's a good day, Jeongguk thinks.
"How come there are only ever seven of us in this dorm?"
Taehyung turns toward him with a drunken smile and glazed eyes. "I own this place, duh."
He realises that summer nights are a bit like Taehyung. He's always changing, never still; a fleeting presence that chases after everything and nothing, leaving fairy lights and broken hearts in his wake. He realises that he never knew Taehyung - old, or new - as well as he thought he did.
The old Taehyung doesn't keep secrets, but the new one has enough of them to stow away in a vault. Jeongguk has learnt this over the past months, and though he's come to accept it, the familiar resentment still rises up whenever he learns something new and unprecedented about Kim Taehyung.
"You own this place?" he asks the next morning, when everyone is still a little drunk and hung over.
Taehyung nods, eyes bleary from sleep. "Mm. Yeah. Sorry I didn't tell you."
"Okay." Jeongguk closes his eyes and lets his head fall back into the crook of Taehyung's neck. It's not something to get angry over, not any more.
The heat that builds up whenever they brush against each other is a familiar one, and not altogether unpleasant. He doesn't know if Taehyung feels it too: the strange static that passes, the fluttery feeling in the stomach, the giddy smile that he has to suppress every single time. Jeongguk might be in denial, but he's not an idiot.
The two come in a pair. Even though Jeongguk returns home in the dead of the night with aching limbs and a tired mind, and Taehyung is by that time lazing around in bed, the elder will always climb into Jeongguk's bed without fail once he's showered and dried off. When they head out, Jeongguk is always by Taehyung's side; at dinner, they're seated next to each other; when everyone is playing a game of Mario Kart, one will be trying to sabotage the other, usually by underhanded means of tickling.
"You guys are so obvious it's disgusting," Namjoon comments as Taehyung yet again tries to send Jeongguk's character off-track, this time by reaching his hands up the younger's back.
"Don't hate the player, hate the game," Taehyung says.
Seokjin throws him a weird look. "That doesn't even make sense."
"I never make sense!" Taehyung cheers. Jeongguk feels a smile creep onto his own face.
That night, as they lay in bed next to each other, Jeongguk can feel Taehyung's breaths in sync with his own. The slow up, down, up, down of each breath, the heaving of the chest, the body warmth that enshrouds them both.
Jeongguk might be in denial, but he's not an idiot.
"Hey, Taehyung?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I like you."
"I like you too." Taehyung laughs and pinches Jeongguk's nose.
He slaps the hand away. "In a non-platonic sense."
"You think, or you do?"
A pause. "I do. I like you."
"Then I like you too."
The grin that Taehyung sports is so embarrassingly rectangular and so blinding that Jeongguk can't help but wipe it off his face with his own.
"Do you think this is enough? For our dreams?"
"What do you mean?"
"I came to Seoul to chase something. I thought I knew what it was, but now, I realise that I don't."
"I came to Seoul to chase nothing."
"And look where that's got us."
"It's summer, you know. Summer is a time of carefree fun and being worry-free and relishing your youth."
A moment passes.
"But is it enough?"
"Do you think it's enough?"
He looks at everyone else, asleep on the rooftop of a nondescript building in Seoul at four in the morning, the sky slowly but surely crossing over from black to orange to blue. In everyone, he sees a past and a present and a future; in the boy sitting next to him, he sees all these and so much more.
"Yeah, it is."