Chapter Text
In life, you’ll come across moments that feel like something. Moments that feel like falling, a tug in your gut; like you’re on the edge, right before something; something you can’t place but know in your gut, in your heart and in your soul and in the billion specks of light you’re made up of.
Those moments should answer all your questions.
Those moments should be the start and end of it all, because that’s how it’s meant to be. It’s your intuition. It’s a promise, a flicker of the power of the universe shining through you, for you.
Trust it, and let it flow.
It all starts — and ends— with fate.
Fate— a whimsical thing, Jeongguk thinks. Something unfathomable, unreachable, and yet always there, with a wink, a whisper, a shimmer.
However harsh it may be at times, it’s always safe. Always reassuring that wherever it takes you, it’s the best thing to happen to you at that precise moment in your life. Divine timing.
He feels those words fizzle up and float away just as fast as they had come, and he blinks at where his feet stop in front of a door.
The harsh winter wind whips across his face and makes his hair smack against his forehead. It makes him wince in discomfort, shoulders hunching up to crawl deeper into his jacket, his scarf.
Though it’s cold outside, there’s heat buzzing, no, glowing, under his skin. Not a harsh buzz, nothing erratic or quick and fast, no, this is soft. A golden glow, cracking, spilling all throughout the grey around him. In him. It settles in his gut.
He frowns slightly to himself. It’s been a while since he’s felt something like that.
The door he’s in front of is made out of wood; a strange thing to see in the middle of Seoul. There’s a laminated sign on the door, decorated with pretty swirls and glitter, and it reads “if you’ve made it this far, please come in. We’d love to welcome you with a cup of tea. Come and talk to us, or at least sit down for a little bit. You deserve it.”
That’s an even stranger thing; to read that in the middle of Seoul. This city is kind to no-one.
Jeongguk shivers. He’d just gone out for a walk, to clear his mind and to breathe again, and somehow, he’s ended up here. Doesn’t know what route he took and now that he thinks about it, doesn’t even know in which part of the city he is. How much time has passed.
He does know that it’s cold. The wind is harsh. He’s a little thirsty. There’s a tug in his gut, whispering at him to go in, and above all that, he’s tired.
So tired of running his mind in circles over the same old things, same old loneliness, same old worries, pain and grief and all the other dark things that never really seem to fade.
He sighs, relishes in the rush of relief that rolls over him as soon as touches the door, and goes in.
It all starts — and ends — with fate.
Jeongguk doesn’t know whether something is ending or beginning, but either way, it feels like it’s been a long time coming. Whatever it is that shifts slightly the moment he takes that leap; it feels a little like coming home.
There’s warmth.
It wraps around him, reaches under his jacket and scarf and jeans and covers his skin in a safe little layer. Jeongguk sighs in relief, something choked up in his throat. He shakes his head, tries to cough it away but it seems as if his body doesn’t want it to leave. Like it’s welcoming it. Tired of keeping all his feelings down and pushed away.
Almost like it’s safe here.
He’s standing in what looks like a cafe, a bar to his right side and comfortable chairs and couches littered with colorful pillows in the rest of the space. All the way in the back there’s a huge bookcase, almost taking up the entire wall.
Everything is made up of wood, giving the place a homey vibe. The smell is woody, too, but there are a whole lot of other herbs mixed in there. Lavender, chamomile, things he can’t place. It tickles his nose.
The space is big, but there’s no one inside, except for three people on the couches in the back, relaxing there, talking softly under the dim, yellow lightning. They look up at his arrival, nod in greeting with a little smile and then resume their conversation.
Another strange thing. This city is kind to no-one. No strangers smile at strangers.
It does feel reassuring. As if, in a way, it’s right that he’s here.
Jeongguk sighs, again — he’s been sighing a lot lately— and feels a tingle down his spine. When he inhales, the air smells like herbs and it sends goosebumps all over his body. Again, that light feeling of relief. His body desperate to let all sorts of shit go, and finally feeling safe enough to start just doing that.
It’s then that he notices a girl behind the bar. She's already smiling at him as she fiddles with a glass vial with what looks to be herbs on the inside. Of course, herbs. This place is stuffed with them.
“Hi.” She says, soft, voice hitting Jeongguk right in the chest.
“Hello,” He makes it over towards the bar, suddenly self conscious for standing there for god knows how long.
The girl doesn’t seem to mind. She drags the vial over the counter. “Taking it all in?”
Jeongguk frowns before he catches himself. What a strange thing to say.
He nods, unsure of what to do with himself, but the girl just smiles and claps her hands together, the vial rolling over to the middle of the counter, as if it has its own mind.
“So, what can I get ready for you?”
Right. This is a cafe. Why was he here again?
“Could I have a cup of tea?” he asks, rubbing his hands together, and she nods, gets to work right away.
“How are you doing?” she asks, as she gets a mug with hot water ready for him.
Jeongguk blinks, watches how she dumps the herbs in the vial in a little strainer and lowers it into the hot water. He’s distracted by the beautiful curl of the steam, the smell that comes from it right away.
“I’m fine.”
It tastes like a big fat lie on his tongue and the girl smiles like she tastes it too. Maybe she does.
She doesn’t linger on it, and part of Jeongguk is relieved, the other part — the part that is still choked up in his throat— is screaming at her, begging at her feet to please ask more, please care, don’t you see it?
“It’s not very busy today,” she says softly, “so you can just sit down. Relax. Stay as long as you’d like.”
Jeongguk smiles, still not used to the kindness that seems to spill out of this place, but takes the cup with a grateful nod and sits down at one of the couches next to the big window, stretching from the ground to the ceiling.
He hadn’t noticed the window when he was outside, but it’s nice to look outside. People don’t look inside, they don’t even glance his way, too busy and caught up in their own lives. Like he’s behind an invisible barrier. Like he’s not here.
That’s how he’s been feeling a lot lately.
He sips his tea and glances around, sees more and more details of the place come to life the longer he looks. There are glass pots on shelves, all labeled and stuffed with flowers, plants, herbs. Dried and fresh, small and big, it stretches out through the whole building, all the way to the back, where those guys are talking.
When Jeongguk’s gaze arrives there, his heart stumbles in surprise as he sees one of them looking at him through his fringe. It’s not a hostile look, just something curious, maybe even a little compassionate.
He keeps his gaze even as they make eye contact, and Jeongguk feels that familiar tingle down his spine. A tug in his gut.
He nods and looks outside again.
As time slips by and the girl wordlessly refills his tea, he does relax. Tension seeps out of his shoulders, warmth making way for the cold rooted deep in his bones. The dark pit in his stomach seems soothed by the tea, the delicious herbs lulling him into a state of comfort.
He sighs and reclines a bit more on the couch, the soft pillows seemingly molding to his body. It’s been a long time since he’s felt any sort of comfort but now it's easy to sink into it like it's his nature.
He allows himself to just be, to just sit and breathe and let the warmth of this place wrap around him.
When he moves to pay, the girl just shakes her head and says that it’s on the house.
Such a strange thing. Such a kind thing. Jeongguk has always loved kindness, but so far in life, it hasn’t come back to him like they said it would. He finds that it’s easy to accept this time.
He leaves the cafe with that warmth still clung to his skin, like a spell.
When he looks up at the sky— it’s dark now, and the city doesn’t allow for any stars to be seen, but he can feel their presence— he almost smiles to himself.
Thinks; what a magical place.
The cafe hasn’t left his mind, but when he tries to remember where it was located, he cannot think of anything. He’s tried finding it on the internet, but nothing came up, and he tries to picture the street but simply just does not remember.
Curses at himself for it, because his memory hasn’t always been this shitty. It's probably the weed, the little sleep, the fact that he can’t seem to care about anything anymore— and also because he would really love to go back.
His apartment feels awfully cold tonight. He’d gone straight to the gym after work and ate some ramen, and now here he is.
Wonders if this is it then; life.
He kicks off his shoes and gets under the blankets, curling in on himself to feel some warmth. The warmth that had settled on his skin for the last two weeks had been slowly fading the last couple of days, and when he hugs his arms around his knees for an embrace, some sort of comfort, he realizes it’s gone.
A cold shiver runs down his spine and something harsh and ugly presses on his chest, suddenly hard to breathe through.
He twists, looks up at the ceiling and counts his breaths. In, one, two, three, four, out, one, two, three, four, five.
A tug in his gut.
Jeongguk feels his heart pound in his ears, tries to breathe, to follow the rhythm he always sets out for himself, because it always works, always calms him, but this time, it’s not enough.
He throws the blankets off, suddenly too hot, but not good hot. This is a stressed hot, something prickly and only speeding up his breaths.
Knows all too well what this is, and can only think, not again.
He puts his shoes on again, tying his laces with shaking fingers. Not again, not again, not again—
Like a mantra, he repeats it, moving through a haze, his body taking the lead without him being aware of it. Not again, not again, not again.
His breathing is too fast and there’s cold wind on his cheeks, on his bare arms. He shivers but keeps walking in the dark, barely aware. No-one bumps into him, no-one seems to notice this boy walking, crying, gasping around half-assed breaths, not again, not again, not again.
His feet come to a stop and as he looks up, he feels a familiar warmth settle over him.
Not this time.
The words fizzle up and float away and he blinks at the wooden door.
The same sign.
The warmth wraps around the dark, ugly pit in his chest and tames it, like a wise, ancient knowing soothing an angry teenager.
He’s found it again.
With a relieved exhale, shuddering down his whole body, he has half the mind to swipe away the tears on his cheeks before he goes inside.
Inside is warm, good, safe, smells like herbs and lavender. The lightning is warmer this time, fairy lights twinkling around the shelves. It feels like a warm hug. Jeongguk could sob in relief.
He’s here. He’s made it. He’s safe.
Belatedly, he realizes he never put on a jacket, and he rubs the goosebumps on his skin.
“Good evening,”
The voice startles him — of course, he’s in a cafe, how rude of him to not even greet anyone— and he whips around to look at the bar.
Behind the counter, there’s the same man who had looked at him the last time. A big blouse hangs loosely off his frame and he’s slouching against the wall behind him. Stirs in his mug with a gentle smile on his face, gentle eyes behind a black, curly, fringe.
If he’s surprised Jeongguk came stumbling in this late in the evening, without a jacket in the cold January, obvious signs of tears still on his face, he doesn’t show it.
“Hey,” Jeongguk manages to stutter out, not knowing where to put his hands.
The guy cocks his head. Still gentle. A little curious, compassionate again. Jeongguk wonders how so much kindness can be concentrated into this place.
“Are you okay?”
It drops like a stone in his gut and Jeongguk shakes his head before he thinks and then says, “yes.”
The lie tastes even more bitter this time.
“Hmm.” The corner of his lip twitches as the man looks him up and down. “Aren’t you cold?”
That breaks him out of his haze. Feels a flush of embarrassment crawl up his neck. “Not really, no,” he rubs his arms again, feels too out of place, suddenly. “Sorry, what time do you close?”
“Not for a while.” The man smiles at him like he’s felt the shift in energy and moves from the wall, sets his mug down and grabs another. “Want some tea?”
Before Jeongguk can say yes, he’s already pouring hot water, and with his other hand he brushes over the countless vials on the counter before settling on one, picking it with a soft smile.
“Go on, sit down,” he nods to the couches, littered with pillows and blankets, like a comfortable nest. “I’ll bring this when it’s ready.”
Jeongguk moves with clouds in his limbs over to the couch in front of a lit fireplace. It’s nice, radiates so much heat that curls deliciously around his bones. He melts down into the cushions, and there’s that feeling.
Comfort.
He shudders a sigh in relief. Curls up a little more to make it comfortable and bathes in the glow.
“Here you go,” the man says, putting his mug down on the low table in front of him.
Then he looks at him, and Jeongguk feels small under his gaze. The good small; safe small.
“Would you mind if I sat with you?” The man asks, softly.
“No,” Jeongguk shakes his head, feels the support of the pillows against his back; how he’s being held. He doesn’t feel the need to resist. Not here. “It’s all good.”
“Good.” The man falls down into the other corner of the couch, feet tucked up. He puts a blanket over his legs, something so small but so big. He’s getting comfortable. For him. Jeongguk sees he’s not wearing shoes.
That brings him to a trail of thought about the cafe, and even though he knows he doesn’t have to say it, he does it anyway. Out of kindness, maybe.
Or out of something smaller and sadder and protective; to stop him from getting hurt. Stop someone from getting close.
“Unless you have work to do— don’t feel pressured at all, it’s good—”
The man smiles, gentle, kind, kind, kind, like he’d heard his inner turmoil and wiggles his toes into the couch. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Jeongguk believes it.
“You’ve been here before, right?”
The man had recognized him.
Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat before he can say yes.
“Cool,” the man grabs his mug, sips at it and looks at him over the rim of his mug, through that fringe. “What’s your name?”
“Jeongguk,” he says, grabbing his mug too. It smells like chamomile this time. “What’s yours?”
“I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He leans forward, stretching out his hand and Jeongguk blinks at it for a moment before he reaches out and shakes it. The palm is warm, soft, and Jeongguk feels as if a golden glow enters his bloodstream at the contact. It’s been what, a good three months since he touched someone, genuinely? It feels right.
Taehyung gives his hand a little squeeze and it’s then that he notices he’s lingering, so he lets go. The warmth travels through the rest of his body, a wave of goodness and purity, washing away any traces of the darkness.
He sighs— a good one, a cleansing one.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Taehyung starts, a little careful with his words but soft, so soft, “what made you come back here?”
Jeongguk huffs a laugh, looking up at the ceiling, the twinkling fairy lights. Hears the crackle of the fireplace.
What made him come back here? What made him come back here, to this strange, kind, wonderfully safe space? He can’t remember.
“I don’t know,” he takes a sip of his tea, then tells the truth. “Felt drawn here.”
Taehyung laughs. Not something judging or disapproving. Just something right. “It’s like magic, right?” Then he winks, and Jeongguk sees a single sparkle fly off his eye.
He laughs. Feels as if he is enraptured by a spell because this is truly ridiculous, such a strange thing, but he can’t find it in himself to care because this Taehyung is nice. His head buzzes gently, something good in the background, and his limbs feel like they’re floating. They’ve always been so heavy.
“So tell me Jeongguk,” Taehyung says, taking another sip and then leaning his head back, “what’s your favorite movie?”
They fall into a comfortable conversation. It’s nice, just to talk, to laugh. Jeongguk is a kind boy. He's a little unpracticed, but he knows how to be nice. He is nice. Sometimes the world makes it hard, but it feels good to be kind, feels good to make someone smile. It flutters in his chest and overpowers any darkness.
When a silence falls, something chill, something to give them some room to think and to be, Jeongguk realizes what he can be. Who he is.
It sparks something that feels dangerously close to hope.
Taehyung seems to sense his shift immediately; so attuned, Jeongguk realises. He scoots up a little, sitting cross-legged and then stretches out his palm again.
Jeongguk takes it with no hesitation.
“Alright, I’m just gonna ask you,” his words are careful again. Jeongguk feels like a deer in the headlights, but also feels as if the car will definitely not ride him over. “Why are you here?”
It’s spoken so gently, and all of a sudden Jeongguk feels the urge to cry.
“Like I said,” he clears his throat, averts his gaze because he can’t hold it. “I felt drawn here. I don’t know.” he watches the flames dance. “It feels safe here. Something’s warm, in the air.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung laughs, squeezes his hand, and a jolt of warmth shoots up to his elbow. Jeongguk looks back at him. “Like I said. Magic.”
There are sparkles behind Taehyung’s head now.
Jeongguk wants to laugh; wants to cry. This is ridiculous, but his mind won’t let himself dwell on that.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, and he’s drawing little circles into the back of his hand with his thumb. It tickles in a good way. Jeongguk tilts his head back.
“Yes.”
“Look at me.”
Taehyung’s gaze is deep, dark, but behind it, Jeongguk can see summer fields, sunsets and blooming flowers. Good things.
“No.”
It spills out like the truth always does, always does in the end, and Taehyung responds to it like he cares.
“That’s okay.” He doesn’t stop with the slow circles.
“I mean, right now, I am.” Jeongguk squeezes his hand, huffs a laugh. It’s scary how easy it suddenly is.
“I can feel that.” Taehyung smiles back, just as wide, and part of Jeongguk wants to ask and another part already knows. “But when you came in…?
Jeongguk shakes his head, sending him a wry smile. “Not really, no.”
“Hm.” Taehyung seems to think to himself for a moment with a soft smile. “What is it?”
All of it.
Jeongguk drags his free hand over his face. Sighs into his palm. Takes a breath for courage.
“I was at the start of a panic attack. Though I think I had an actual one on the way.”
Nothing shatters. Nothing breaks. Just the truth, flowing out like water; like it’s supposed to. The lights still twinkle, the fire’s still on, Taehyung's thumb is still rubbing circles.
Why is it all made so complicated?
“Hm. Why?”
“I think it was the loneliness.” Jeongguk laughs, mostly to himself, to the ridicule of it all. The fact that he’s talking, someone’s listening and it just keeps spilling out. “The fact that just— no-one was there, you know? I was alone in my apartment and there was nothing. My parents died last year, the last two people I had in my life, and now it’s just. Empty. It feels cold. Everything, all of it, I—”
Taehyung hums, changes the circling of his thumb to just gentle rubbing. A steady, soundless thing that keeps Jeongguk tethered.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore.” He feels the desperation claw at his throat, something harsh and painful. “It’s all cold. I don’t feel anything anymore, except for the darkness. That darkness, that ugliness, it’s just— it’s always there, and I want it gone so bad but whatever I do it just won’t seem to stop. It always feels so cold.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, swallows. It’s too much. He shakes the hand in his, desperate for some sort of anchor. “I’m gonna be honest with you, this is the most warmth I’ve felt in— in months, like, actually, inside of me." He bites his lip. "And I even sleep with an electric blanket, like, all the time.”
Taehyung laughs at that and Jeongguk does, too. The air becomes lighter.
“Sorry,” Jeongguk laughs, massaging his temples. Working the tension out. It flows away just as easily as the truth did. “Didn’t mean to dump it all out on you.”
Taehyung smiles, kind, so kind, eyes sending something bright his way.
“It’s good to talk. Don’t feel bad about it.”
Jeongguk smiles, gives his hand one last squeeze before letting go and stretching his arms above his head. Tension fizzles away, leaves him all wrung out and feeling weak, but weak in a good way. Weak as in strong. It simmers in his chest.
“You will find some light, some warmth, Jeongguk.” Taehyung’s voice drawls out his name like he’s sealing a promise. “You will, don’t ever worry about that. You’ll have enough to outshine the city with it.”
His throat feels thick and he puts his arms in his lap. Just listens.
“But if you ever,” Taehyung exhales, closes his eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is deeper, even more enchanting than it had been, and Jeongguk listens to it like he’s a snake being sung to. “If you ever manage to find this place again… You are always so, so incredibly welcome. You can be warm here.”
The words ring in his ears long after he’s left the cafe, the familiar warmth settled in his bones.
He finds the door again almost two weeks later when his boss lets him leave early, before the dinner shift.
Days have been strung together; work, gym, sleep. Nothing exciting, nothing memorable, and he feels his heart tug for that comfort again. After that heart to heart with Taehyung— which felt so good— he’d been wanting to go back, but the same thing happened every time. He walks out, goes in the general direction of where he thinks the cafe is supposed to be located, but then just ends up walking in circles, never getting there.
It seems to be when he leasts expects it; walking home from work, loud music blasting in his earbuds, mind swirling around in a downward spiral now that he doesn’t feel warmth in his bones anymore. And then, he’s suddenly there again. The wooden door. Same sign.
Jeongguk smiles. Welcomes the familiar warmth.
You’re strong.
The words fizzle up, float away again. He starts to notice the pattern now.
Almost like it is magic.
He shakes his head, the rational part of his brain screaming at him to think about it, this strange, strange place, but when his hand lands on the door to push it open, a sense of complete rightness pulls over him and he can’t seem to care anymore. He knows he needs to be here.
“Hey,”
A voice welcomes him, nice and easy, and Jeongguk takes a deep breath.
Lavender, herbs.
Twinkling lights and a warm hug.
Smiles, just for a moment. For himself.
“Hello,” he says, nodding to the man behind the counter. This is someone he hasn’t seen before. He’s wearing a big white sweater, bold blue letters printed on the front and it’s tucked into light blue, baggy jeans. Jeongguk likes the style.
“How’s it going?” The man asks, bright, caring, and Jeongguk notices now he’s different from Taehyung but not all that much. He’s got the same vibe.
“I’m—” he stops himself from blurting out the lie like always and instead bites his tongue. He doesn’t feel the need to lie anymore. Not here, at least. “I’m sorta okay.”
He is, now that he’s here again. Tingles rush down his spine.
The man smiles again, a kind little thing. “I’m glad. What can I get for you today?”
“A tea, please,” Jeongguk walks up to the counter, eyes all the vials with herbs on it, neatly organized. He doesn’t know which ones he had before, just knows that they were all good, all seeped a little warmth into his coldness.
The man notices his interest. He quirks his brow. “Do you have a preference?”
“I don’t—” Jeongguk looks at them all, but there are too many to pick from, and they all look different, all with different colors and different dried up parts. “Not really?”
“Just trust your gut.” The man says, nodding encouragingly.
Such a strange thing to say. Such a natural thing to say.
Jeongguk nods and without hesitation picks one, with pink and blue parts in it. It warms his hand when he closes his fingers around it.
“This one?”
Something flashes over the man’s face— concern, pity?— and then he smiles softly. “Of course. I’ll get that ready for you.”
Jeongguk hums and hears the soft music from the speakers. His head buzzes a little again.
“— saying! Hyung, look at what Jimin sent me, it’s— oh?”
Jeongguk looks up with a jolt as the door next to the bar opens and Taehyung stumbles out, phone held up to show something, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Jeongguk. He blinks, surprise flashing over his face for one— two—
“Hey, Jeongguk.” He softens. “Welcome.” He does a little flail with his arms, gesturing around the place and Jeongguk smiles. The little prick of anxiety that had stabbed his stomach disappears and a golden glow wraps around his heart.
“Hey.”
“You two know each other?” The man behind the bar asks, looking between him and Taehyung, being careful with his words. Does a good job of concealing the surprise in his voice, but Jeongguk knows how to read people.
“Yeah,” Taehyung turns to the man, motioning at Jeongguk. “Hyung, this is Jeongguk. He’s been here a few times in the last few weeks.”
Something passes there in their eyes. Jeongguk feels left out.
But then the man says, “Right,” and looks at him again. His eyes are soft, softer than they had been. “Taehyung told me about you. Sorry, Jeongguk. I’m Hoseok.”
Jeongguk doesn’t understand why he has to be sorry for that.
“It’s all good.” He takes the palm extended to him, and when he feels warmth tingle up to his elbow, he’s not all that surprised.
“I’m glad you heard it when I said you’re always welcome here.” Taehyung smiles, takes over the job from Hoseok to make his tea. They move fluidly together, finishing each other's movements. It seems as if they have this magical push and pull, every move seamlessly attuned to one another. “So, what made you come back?”
“I don’t know.” Jeongguk shrugs, honest. “I didn’t plan to come here, but then suddenly I was.”
Taehyung grins, amused. He mouths, magic.
There are sparkles behind his head. Jeongguk feels enchanted.
Hoseok flashes his eyes at Taehyung, something akin to a warning, but Taehyung just laughs, rubs his arm soothingly. So attuned, Jeongguk notices again. Like he can feel every shift of energy, every little vibration.
“Here’s your tea, by the way.” Hoseok grabs the mug from Taehyung again, moving as one. “Sit down wherever you want.” He smiles, wide and soft and reassuring. “Enjoy.”
Jeongguk takes it with a grateful nod and walks over to wherever his legs take him, body a mind of its own. Sits down on the pillows, feels them move to the curves and bumps of his spine.
In the corner of his eye, he sees Taehyung roll the empty vial where his tea had been in, in his hand. He and Hoseok mutter quietly to each other.
Jeongguk doesn’t have the guts to ask them to come sit with him, because they’re working and that’s weird; he can’t do that.
But he’s lonely. These people, these kind gentle people here take a bit of that away, and his heart longs for it.
Not so surprisingly— Jeongguk’s not really surprised by the things that seem to happen here anymore, just a little interested and a lot confused— he feels someone come up behind him after a little while. A quick rub over his shoulder. It spreads warmth all the way up to his neck.
“Mind if we sit with you?”
“No, I don’t,” he blurts out, too quick. He watches as the two guys plop down on the couch, Hoseok in the corner and Taehyung hopping over the back of it to land next to him, settled into his side comfortably. Jeongguk quirks a brow. “Don’t you guys have to work, or something?”
Hoseok smiles wide, arms stretched back over the couch, one over Taehyung’s shoulder. “This is our work.”
“What— you can just come and chill with customers and that’s it?”
“Basically.” Taehyung says, a glimmer in his eye. “We also have to make tea. Or coffee, if people want.”
Jeongguk laughs. “Wow. Are you guys looking for anyone right now?”
“You don’t have a job?” Hoseok asks and Jeongguk glows under the fact people actually want to know about him.
“No, I do.” He sighs. “It’s in a restaurant, not too far from here, I think.” He drops his face into his hands. “I still don’t know how to find this place. It’s frustrating, I like it here. Can you give me an address, or something?”
Taehyung just smiles. “You did find it, though.”
“Yeah, but…” He trails off, and then blinks. Mind empty, a warm cloud floating in his mind. Frowns, looks at his hands. “I— nevermind.”
Taehyung and Hoseok share a knowing glance.
“You were talking about your job,” Hoseok helps, “A restaurant. Do you like it there?”
Jeongguk plucks at the black dress shirt he’s still wearing, a little too tight at his chest and arms. Makes him feel restricted, suddenly.
“It’s— fine. It’s not the best job I’ve ever had, not the worst either. Just, my colleagues aren’t the best, and for me that makes or breaks a job. I just hoped—” he bites his tongue. Hoped I would make some friends there.
Taehyung and Hoseok don’t pity him for it. They ask questions about what exactly his work entails, what the food is like, how the customers are, and before Jeongguk knows it he’s curled up on the couch, too. Way more comfortable now, snuggled into the corner, shoeless feet under a blanket. Enchanted, by the way these two men speak, voices soft, answers all so right, as if they’re looking at his soul instead of just the person he pretends to be. The person he always is.
Not that he feels the need to pretend, not here; blanket warm over his legs and that persistent, gentle buzz in his head. Here, he can just be. But he’s put parts of himself so deep away for so long that he doesn’t really know who he is, then.
Taehyung and Hoseok see him, though. He feels it. That’s enough for now.
“Seems crazy to me that people can actually be so rude.” Taehyung looks absolutely baffled at his stories, shaking his head with wide eyes. “Like— I actually— can’t get it, why, why—”
Hoseok shushes him, gently massages his neck. Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung gets out in the real world much.
“It’s just the way it is nowadays, I think.” Jeongguk muses softly.
Feels his whole body deflate at the thought. Looks at how Taehyung has a somber look on his face, leaning into Hoseok and decides—
“Actually, no. You’re right. You’re so right. Why are people like this? They—”
He yelps in surprise as there’s suddenly a cat on his lap.
“What—”
“Oh, Simba—” Taehyung makes to move forward and get the cat off of him, but then sees how it curls up in Jeongguk’s lap. He softens. “At least animals can still feel the connection we all have.” he smiles gently at where the cat curls up in his lap, black fur shimmering under the light.
Jeonnguk still has his hands frozen in the air.
Hoseok laughs. “Sorry, this is Simba. He must’ve snuck downstairs; we don’t let him into the cafe all that often but sometimes he’s sneaky. We can get him out if—”
“No.” Jeongguk shakes his head, actually looking at the gentle thing curled up so close to him. Something pure. Good. Carefully, he lowers his fingers down into the fur, marvels at the feather softness of it. The cat purrs in response.
He smiles up at Hoseok and Taehyung who watch him with an endeared look in their eyes. “Let him stay.”
“He did come downstairs for a reason,” Taehyung tells Hoseok. “Or he’s just being bitchy, but I doubt it. He’d have knocked the mugs over before we would’ve been able to touch him.”
“You left the door open, didn’t you?” Hoseok ruffles the hairs at the back of his head, and Taehyung just smiles, dazzlingly so, glitters flying everywhere.
“Everything happens with a reason, hyung.”
The cat purrs in his lap and Jeongguk feels a bit lonely.
“So, the cat lives here— wait, you live here?”
Hoseok nods. “Yeah. The first floor is the cafe, but above that there are three more. We live with the six of us.”
The easy use of us, like he’s done it millions of times before, stings in his chest. Hoseok, Taehyung; they belong somewhere. In an us.
Jeongguk tries for a smile, but it doesn’t really come well. Taehyung nudges his foot with his.
“What?”
“Nothing, just—” Jeongguk swallows, really tries to smile this time. “That sounds…” lovely. safe. like something I long for. “Nice.”
It’s lame and settles in the silence. Taehyung and Hoseok both look at him like they understand. Jeongguk wants to cry again.
Before he can say anything else, his phone buzzes in his back pocket. Something harsh, cutting through the gentle air.
He fumbles to get it, mumbles a sorry before answering. “Hello?”
“Jeongguk?” It’s his boss, and he sighs to himself, hand massaging temples. In the background, he hears the familiar noise of a busy restaurant. “I know I let you go home at five because we only had two reservations, but somehow the people just keep coming tonight. We’re only with the two of us— no, that’s fine, table two wanted without pine nuts— and no-one else is available. Can you come help us out?”
He looks down; his work outfit, still on. Not really a choice, is it?
“Yeah.” He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to massage the sudden tension in his brow away. “I can come. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Great, thanks. No— the beers are for—” A soft click. He sighs.
“Who was that?” Hoseok asks, and he looks concerned. Taehyung looks at him with something similar. Almost something protective.
“It was work.” Jeongguk pockets his phone, gently lifts the cat off his lap and puts it down on the couch with a pat on the head. It blinks at him, as if it’s shocked. Jeongguk pouts at it. “Sorry, buddy.”
“What are you doing?” It’s Taehyung, voice soft, not moving from his spot leaned into Hoseok.
“I— uh. I have to go.” He stands up, straightens his clothes. “It’s gotten super busy and no-one’s available to help out, so, yeah…”
Jeongguk catches Taehyung’s eyes, dark but with summer fields behind them, and wants nothing more than to stay.
“That’s an admirable thing to do, Jeongguk.” Hoseok says. “I really respect that.”
Jeongguk bites the inside of his lip. “Thanks.”
He feels a little lost now. Unsure of what to do. Taehyung takes the lead for him.
“Let us walk you out.”
He follows behind Taehyung and Hoseok as they lead him to the door. Relishes the warmth in his bones, the air that wraps around him like a hug. He isn’t ready to leave, yet.
“Thank you, for the tea—”
“It’s on the house.” Hoseok interrupts.
Jeongguk smiles. Had expected it. It reminds him of his mom; the persistent generosity.
“Thank you, then.” He swallows. “And thanks for sitting with me.”
Honest, so so honest, but he feels the rightness of his words through his core.
Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “Thank you for sitting with us, Jeongguk. You’re good company.” Then he reaches his arm out, squeezing his shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck at work.”
Jeongguk feels the heat spread, as if there’s an intention behind the touch this time. Nothing like the fleeting, warm energy that flows up at the subtle touches, no, this is intense, eyes fluttering shut and bright, golden energy roaring through his body.
He’s breathless when Taehyung lets go, and when he opens his eyes, he feels lighter. Sees the two men smile at him.
Words are lost on his tongue, and he just nods. He knows he’ll be back here.
Before he leaves, he remembers something. A fleeting thing. “Wait— where am I again? How do I get to the square?”
Hoseok smiles knowingly. “Just walk to the end of the street. Either way. You’ll find it from there.”
So strange.
Jeongguk just nods and indeed finds it without having to look twice.
The next time he walks into the cafe— a sunny afternoon, when the small, frail beginnings of spring begin to show, he feels unwelcome, for the first time.
Or maybe just a little out of place.
Six heads whip around to look at him when he enters, and he sees the shock on all of them. He feels scrutinized under the gazes and meets Hoseok’s gaze, who quirks an eyebrow. He’s the fastest to recover.
“Jeongguk? What are you doing here?”
It’s nothing blaming, nothing mean; just pure confusion.
Jeongguk doesn’t get it.
“I— don’t know?” His feet had taken him there, as usual, not really planning on it but not minding it anyways. “I just felt like some tea?”
All six of the men exchange glances, something intense, seemingly speaking to each other without words until it’s been too long of a silence and Taehyung clears his throat.
“Jimin-ah— go help him out, will you?” He muffles something behind his back, nodding at Jeongguk. When he sees how absolutely uncomfortable Jeongguk feels, everything at him screaming to leave— he’s not supposed to be here— they don’t want him there— he smiles gently. “It’s okay. You’re welcome.”
The words reach around him in a hug and he shudders around an exhale.
A man with a thin white shirt and blonde hair, color shimmering like everything seems to do here, looks at Taehyung, eyes wide, but Taehyung just nods at him, reassuringly.
“Of course,” the man mutters, putting the papers in his hands down on a table. “Hi,” he walks towards him, palm outstretched. “Sorry, you’re Jeongguk, right? I’m Jimin.”
The warmth that reaches up to his elbow isn’t a surprise this time.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, softly. “Are you sure it’s okay? I can come back another time—”
“No worries,” Jimin smiles, bright and dazzling. “We’re just having a business meeting, but you’re welcome to chill out. Sorry for our weird welcome, we just didn’t expect you, is all.”
“I didn’t plan on coming either, just—”
“I know. It’s all good.” Jimin says softly. He’s behind the counter now, fingers dancing over the vials. “You wanted tea, right?”
“Yes,”
Jimin hums, closes his eyes for a moment. Jeongguk looks at them all and doesn't know which one he wants until Jimin’s fingers land on one with little yellow flowers inside.
“That one.”
Jimin smiles, gently picking it up. “I know.”
Jeongguk barely notices the strangeness anymore.
Jimin prepares his tea and then motions to the end of the bar, a plate full of cookies there. “You know, I baked some cookies today.” He giggles, “I’m actually the worst cook out of all of us, but hey. I tried. Want one?”
Jeongguk suddenly feels something playful rise in him. It’s something new— and old, too long since he’s felt it— glittery and giggly in his chest. “Are they safe?”
Jimin gapes at him for a moment before breaking out into a laugh. Something truly wonderful. “You— nevermind! You’re not getting one anymore. Guys! The cookies are all for us, Jeongguk doesn’t trust my baking skills!”
“We don’t either!” Someone calls back, and Jeongguk chuckles.
Jimin does the same, looks at him with an amused little smile as he slides the mug over to him, a cookie placed on top. Of course. “Here. Enjoy.”
“Let me just pay now, so I won’t bother you guys again—” he reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Jimin interrupts him.
“You’re not bothering us.” He clicks his tongue. “And it’s on the house.”
“Wh— again?” Jeongguk asks, baffled. “That’s the fourth time, you can’t be giving away free stuff all the time!”
“Why not?” Jimin asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. There’s a playful smile on his lips, tongue poking out.
Jeongguk feels enchanted yet again and the words die on his tongue. “You’ll—” he gestures uselessly with his hands. “You’ll go out of business.”
“We won’t.”
“So, what?” He scoffs, “You just give everyone free stuff?”
“The ones that matter, yeah.” Jimin says, smile turning soft. He must sense Jeongguk is at a loss for words at that yet again, because he just juts his chin out, nodding to the mug of tea, steam curling past the edges in beautiful curls. “Take your tea, gguk. Sit down.”
The ease of that nickname is like a kick in his heart. A good kick, though. Something recognizable.
Jimin gestures to the back of the cafe. “We have a lot of books if you wanna chill for a bit. We’ll be working but— feel at home.”
It feels too much for a second, but then he remembers that he’s safe here and Jeongguk does as he’s told.
There really are no worries here, he realizes as he trails over to the back, browsing over the books one by one. None of the anxiousness he brings into his life exists here; it’s just right. How it’s supposed to be.
Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok all send him little smiles when they see him browsing over the books. He feels the curious gazes of the others prickle on his back, but for once, his insides don’t crumble under that. Humming to himself, he looks at the backs of the books, all different, thick, thin, with bold writing or plain, and stops when he finds one that speaks to him, practically begging to be read with the way there’s a little shimmer around it.
It’s a plain, dark green cover, no title or writer on the front, but it warms in his hand and he nods, satisfied.
As he settles down with his book and his tea, a blanket over his legs and curled up into a corner, he realizes that it’s quiet. Too quiet. But when he turns around, the six guys are still there, mouths moving, seemingly in deep conversation. They aren’t far away.
It’s one of those moments. He’s on an edge and he doesn’t know what’ll happen after the fall, but it feels like a right thing.
He stops questioning the strangeness. It keeps happening and he can’t make anything out of it, and— you don’t have to, says a quiet voice from somewhere, so he accepts it. Maybe it’s better to let the warmth wash over, to watch the magical twinkle of the fairy lights and let it be.
He’s never been good at letting go, but this time it flows out of him easily. Feels something in him shift, getting warmer, and he smiles when he reads the first lines of the book.
It’s a wonderful thing; to be alive. To have gotten the right to experience this life, as you are now, how you are now, and as all the versions of you you have been and will become as this being.
Breathe.
Look around.
Be grateful, for it all, for the eternal energy flowing everywhere to make up this exact moment.
If you have trouble feeling that gratitude, do not worry. Start where you can, and go on from there. You are reading this for a reason, so trust the universe. Trust the magic of it.
You will make this life the most wonderful as it can be for you; because you deserve it, because you will make it, and because it is, and always will be, fate.
Time passes in a blur as the book takes him on a journey through himself. He learns, takes in the words and feels them in his soul. Energy shifts around him, tangible, like puzzle pieces falling into place.
Simba crawls into his lap at some point, purring as Jeongguk scratches his head while he reads. It’s lovely and it’s good and he could do this for hours, but jolts as suddenly, the bubble of silence is broken. Voices, soft but there. Some shuffling of papers, books.
He twists around to look and almost jumps out of his body when Taehyung’s standing right behind him. Simba meows in protest. Taehyung is grinning. “Hey.”
Jeongguk presses a hand over his heart. “God— you scared me.”
Taehyung grins even wider. “Didn’t mean to.”
Jeongguk scoffs, but a small smile plays around his lips. Something involuntary, fluttery.
Smoothly, Taehyung jumps over the back of the couch and settles next to him. He grins again. “Hey.”
This is so dumb. He can’t help but smile back. “Hey.”
“How are you feeling?” Taehyung looks at him like he’s genuinely curious, eyes peeking out from under his black curls.
“Good.” He tastes the word on his tongue and realizes it’s not bitter. “Really good, actually.”
“I can tell.” Taehyung says, sounding pleased. He seems to relax; leans back, spreads his legs, knee almost touching Jeongguk’s.
There’s something warm in that air between them.
“How?”
Taehyung hums. “Your energy. It’s good. Different from the last few times.”
Jeongguk takes that in for a second before he says, honestly, “I feel different.”
“Hm.” Taehyung is still looking at him, and Jeongguk just knows he’s reading him effortlessly by the way he smiles when he asks, “Good or bad?”
“Good.” Jeongguk breathes out, and the truth of it flutters in his chest.
“I’m glad.”
And the truth in those words; that flutters too. Maybe even more.
“Jeongguk! Do you want more tea?” Hoseok calls out to him.
“Sure!”
He’s staying here, apparently.
Jimin comes to join them, a soft touch on his shoulder before he’s sitting down on the opposite couch. “How was the cookie?” There’s a playful thing in his eyes.
Jeongguk purses his lips. “I’ve had better.”
“You—”
“Also had worse.” Jeongguk adds with a smile.
The way Jimin lights up is beautiful to see. “Hear that, guys!” He calls out to the others as they join them as well. “Jeongguk liked the cookies, suck it!”
“Alright, Jimin-ah, calm your ass,” A man comments, holding up the plate. “Here, I even brought them, so we can all taste the wonderful cookies you made.” The sarcasm drips off his tone, and he sets the plate down and then turns to Jeongguk. “Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Yoongi.” Jeongguk takes his hand with a smile.
The other two introduce themselves as well as they sit down, Jin and Namjoon. They all do that thing, where they touch him and something relaxes in his body, glowing warmth streaming through his veins.
Namjoon whistles lowly when he eyes the book on his lap. “Good book.”
“Yeah, it’s really good.” Jeongguk agrees, feeling a little giddy. He’s sitting here. With these nice people. They know his name and they know his. “Have never read anything like it. Like, the words feel true, you know?”
Namjoon smiles gently. There’s an ancient knowledge there, and Jeongguk just knows he’s read it too and felt the same. “That’s what it does to you.”
“Namjoon, you’ve read that way too much, you’re prejudiced.” Jin butts in.
“You liked it, too, when you started out!”
“I’ve moved on to more complicated things.” Jin sniffs.
Jeongguk laughs. “So, how was your meeting?” He quirks a teasing eyebrow at Jimin. “Talking about your bankruptcy since you’ve been giving away too much free stuff?”
They all break out into a laugh and Jeongguk laughs with them. He laughs with them.
“No, it was good.” Taehyung says, still amused. “We got some new insights, talked some important things over.”
“Good, good.”
“He really likes you.” Yoongi comments quietly. He’s chilled out, leaning back on the opposite couch, but his eyes are on Simba, still in Jeongguk’s lap.
Jeongguk pets his head, smiles at the pleasant purrs that come in return. “Does he?”
Yoongi hums, eyes still on the cat before he flicks them up to Jeongguk. There’s something deep in them, curious. Jeongguk wouldn’t be surprised if he could see his soul. “Doesn’t do well with strangers, normally. We’ve had this place for…”
“Four years,” Jin helps.
“Four years, and he’s only come down with us and… you.”
All the six of them exchange glances at that and Jeongguk doesn’t really know what to say.
A silence falls, a comfortable thing. It’s then, when he has some room to breathe, deep and with his eyes closed, that he actually looks around.
Dusk has fallen, and the lights glow warmer. A little more magical. Now that Jeongguk sees it, sees it, there’s a glimmer around everything. Like little glitches, everywhere he looks, from the lights to the books to the tea in his hands and all in the people around him. It’s wonderful. Magical.
Something tugs in his gut.
Come find out
“Can I say something?”
Taehyung raises his brow. “Go ahead.”
Jeongguk breathes a deep breath and then takes the leap.
“This place is strange.”
A short silence. All of them glancing at each other.
“How so?” Namjoon asks with a certain carefulness to his words.
“I don’t know.” Jeongguk keeps going. “Everything about it, really. I can’t seem to remember where it is, how to get here. When I’m here, there’s this warmth, and my head buzzes all the time. It’s weird.”
“But does it feel good?” Taehyung presses, and Jeongguk looks at him. Sees summer fields.
“Yes.” He exhales. “It feels so right. But like— something is at the tip of my tongue and I can’t seem to find it.”
Taehyung holds his gaze for a moment. Winks. Now, more clearly than ever, Jeongguk sees it, the millions of sparkles that shimmer around him.
“Taehyung.”
Jeongguk looks at Jin, who had spoken the warning, and something in him clicks.
“Hey, what?” Taehyung sounds defensive. “We might as well tell him, hyung. Look at how far he is, already. He even picked the book, for god’s sake. Plus,” his tone grows softer, “he won’t remember anyways.”
“Remember what?” Jeongguk asks, uselessly.
Hoseok talks over him, a soft touch to his words. Protective even. “Can we, though?”
“Can we what?”
“Tell him.”
“Yes.” Jimin says, without hesitation. It rings clear in the room. Everybody falls quiet. “Come on,” he gestures at Jeongguk, “I know you guys can feel it as well.”
They all exchange meaningful looks; a conversation happening right before Jeongguk’s eyes but he can’t hear a thing.
“We did tell Luna, too.” Yoongi mutters quietly, and they all seem to agree. Nod.
“Alright.” Namjoon nods, rubbing his palms together. “Are we sure about this?”
They all nod again, and then Namjoon catches Jeongguk’s gaze, who feels more lost than he ever has.
A small smile plays on his lips. “You better hold on to your hat, Gguk.”