Chapter Text
His first impression of Taerae is that he’s wimpy, annoying, and a bother. They’re only kids though, and Taerae has scraped his knee on the gravel running away from Junhyeon because he’d picked up a caterpillar and started chasing him around with it. Junhyeon’s own knees are scattered with cuts and bruises, he knows it can’t possibly hurt that much, but Taerae is bawling from his spot on the ground, wails loud enough to alert the whole neighbourhood.
“Stop crying already,” Junhyeon says, coming closer, but this only makes Taerae sob harder.
“Get it away from me!” He cries, motioning to the bug still in Junhyeon’s grubby fingers.
Junhyeon sighs and sets it down in the grass beside them. He’d thought it was rather cute, and was just trying to show it off, but Taerae obviously didn’t take it that way. He explains as much to his parents that evening, after Junhyeon has apologised three times over and Taerae is ushered away. Sorry I made him cry, he’d said. Sorry your son is such a crybaby, he’d thought.
He thinks after all the scolding they’ll stop pushing him to play with the neighbour’s kid, but they get encouraged to spend that whole summer together anyway.
Taerae hates the stifling heat and getting dirt on his clothes and sand in his socks, and he thinks bugs are gross and football is boring and is probably the most infuriating person Junhyeon has ever met in his six years of living. He can never keep up with Junhyeon, and he hovers around him like an annoying fly, voicing his doubts and his second thoughts whenever Junhyeon wants to do something fun. They don’t get along that summer.
It takes two years for Junhyeon to eventually come around to the idea of them being friends, and then they become truly inseparable.
Junhyeon still thinks he’s a little odd, his laugh too loud and his jokes kind of lame and his view of the world far too boring, but he takes it on as his responsibility to loosen him up a bit. Junhyeon gets them into trouble, Taerae gets them out of it.
On rainy days when Junhyeon can’t go outside, he’s at least allowed to go over to Taerae’s to watch cartoons and play with their puppy until they all get so exhausted they fall asleep in a pile on the sofa, an arm thrown across Junhyeon’s middle and a fluffy tail on his leg.
When Taerae goes off to middle school and Junhyeon is stuck in elementary, he gets to play with the others in his class and run off all his energy instead of being stuck inside eating lunch with Taerae, and yet his days feel dull.
Things click back into place when he moves up to their local junior high too, and Junhyeon spends most break times pestering Taerae until all the third years know to call for him when they spot Junhyeon on their corridor.
Junhyeon can’t sit still in lessons. He gets told off all too many times for passing notes or being a general distraction during classes, but on sunny days he sits up on the roof in peaceful quiet, sharing earphones with Taerae as they trade lunch. Taerae’s mom makes the best tempura, and she packs twice as much whenever she makes it because they’re all used to Taerae complaining that Junhyeon has been stealing his food.
“You’re the reason I can’t grow taller.” Taerae accuses him one afternoon. Junhyeon is in a sentimental mood today so they’re listening to an old Taeyang album, but they’ve heard it a thousand times over and Taerae thinks he can get away with talking over it.
“It’s not my fault you’re such a picky eater,” Junhyeon says, sticking out his tongue. “And who used to make me drink your milk because you thought it tasted icky?”
When winter rolls around they migrate to an empty stairwell to escape the cold and the noisy classrooms. Taerae has exams coming up but his favourite band just released an album and he drags Junhyeon away as soon as lunch starts because he can’t possibly wait until they get home. They huddle at the top of the stairs for warmth, and Taerae smells like something floral and comforting, his hair tickling Junhyeon’s ear from the way he’s leaning against him, but Junhyeon is fourteen and too young to understand why his skin feels like it’s burning in the cold air.
Taerae is gone by next spring, off to a high school out of town so they can’t commute at the same time anymore.
By the time Junhyeon gets to high school too, Taerae is a busy third-year. They’d spent their fair share of nights over at each other’s houses, forgoing studying in favour of watching bad movies and bugging their respective siblings, but it feels different to get to walk back home together again. Taerae has to attend cram school until late, so Junhyeon spends more time at his club and tries to study while he waits for him. They take the train back after the sun sets, and when Taerae falls asleep on his shoulder Junhyeon knows at last why his heart beats faster when he’s around him.
Twelve years since they met, Taerae still hates most of the same things, but he’s gotten better at football. He never managed to catch up to Junhyeon in terms of height, but he’s far ahead of him in so many other things. Junhyeon feels like he’s always been chasing after him, a two year gap wide enough to stretch across the country, when Taerae packs up his stuff and moves out to Seoul for college.
“Don’t forget about me,” Junhyeon says, half-joking.
“As if I could forget you,” Taerae replies, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be reminded of you every time I see a potato or a football or a caterpillar. And we’re still best friends, don’t be dramatic.”
Junhyeon beams. He’s always been awful at hiding his emotions, and Taerae knows exactly how to stop him sulking.
He gives Junhyeon his old guitar, because he’d gotten a nicer, newer one with the money he’s been saving from his summer jobs, and he tells him to look after the family dog he’s leaving behind, and then Junhyeon is left to catch up again.
They didn’t need to text as much when they lived next door, but Junhyeon sends him random messages throughout the day - a blurry picture of a cute dog he spotted, a stupid thought that might make Taerae laugh, a homework question he doesn’t get. Taerae sends back funny gifs and song recommendations and pictures of the sky in Seoul, dotted with lights and lined with buildings that stretch higher than the clouds back in their small town. They text every day until they get busy, and they start to forget, and then they run out of things to say.
They don’t forget birthdays though, and special occasions, and on Taerae’s first winter break their two families gather around the dinner table to eat together like old times. Taerae has dyed his hair a light brown and opted for contacts instead of glasses, and sometimes Junhyeon has to take a moment to remember he’s looking at the same dork that used to trip over his own feet and asked Junhyeon to check if his fruit was sweet before he ate it. The adults coo that Taerae has grown up so nicely, and how are his studies going, and has he met any nice girls he’d want to bring home?
Their respective families are quite small - Taerae’s older sister moved out long ago and Junhyeon’s own sister started working out of town as well. Taerae’s parents had Junhyeon over whenever his mom was away at work and the house stood empty, and they’re all so close Taerae must trust them enough to confess in a quiet voice that he won’t ever be bringing any girls over.
It takes them a minute to process his words, and Taerae keeps his head down, fidgeting with his chopsticks, but then his mother has her arms around him, reassuring him that they’ll love him no matter what. Taerae tears up when his father nods too, and Junhyeon exchanges a look with his own mom as they hug.
That whole family is too soft-hearted, she’d said, back when Junhyeon was seven and Taerae was crying again because Junhyeon had injured himself this time, trying to get back the balloon Taerae had accidentally let go of. She sets a comforting hand on his when they part though, because Taerae is the sweet boy she would have preferred to have as her son instead of her own troublemaker, as she used to sigh.
Taerae glances up at Junhyeon, his eyes still nervous and watery, like he thinks Junhyeon could ever hate him. They’re not kids anymore, and he’s loved him far longer than he ever spent thinking he was a bore.
But Junhyeon doesn’t say anything until after dinner, when they’ve been tasked with washing the dishes while the adults sit around the TV. Taerae is technically an adult too, and it’s just Junhyeon who’s still a gangly teenager, waiting for his turn.
“Of course I’m cool with it,” Junhyeon says when Taerae asks. More than cool with it, if he’s honest. It gives him a hope that he’d never let fester before, and it means that when he looks over at Taerae standing beside him with a shy smile and soap suds up to his arms, the thought of kissing him doesn’t feel quite so forbidden.
“Just so you know,” Junhyeon continues, looking back at the dish he’s wiping dry. “I like boys too. And girls. I didn’t really get it before, but I guess it’s always kind of been like that for me.”
He doesn’t know how to put it nicely, he’s hopeless at emotional talk on a regular day and now it feels like he’s sharing his deepest secret with a stranger. This new Taerae stands a little taller, with a little more confidence, and he dresses better. Without the glasses, Junhyeon can see his eyes more clearly, so maybe it’s not a bad change. But Taerae still smiles at him the same, like he did when they’d gotten away with eating sweets after dinner when they were young, and he thinks maybe they still are best friends.
Junhyeon wonders if this is the part where he’s supposed to say something. But just because Taerae likes boys doesn’t mean that he likes Junhyeon, and just because he can delude himself into thinking the look in Taerae’s eyes is expectant, it doesn’t mean it is.
He puts the last dish away and they leave things as they are, in that house Taerae doesn’t live in anymore, because Junhyeon isn’t sure he’s ready for any more change.
When Junhyeon goes to join Taerae in college, he sees his mom cry for the first time in years, clutching the last box of his belongings. He hated to leave her alone with two empty bedrooms, but she had pushed him to go, proclaiming that she was glad to finally get some peace and quiet. There are still faded posters on his walls and old clothes in the drawers and knickknacks all over his desk, but Junhyeon always existed in noise and activity rather than the space he took up in the house. Now she sets down the last box, wipes her tears with a sleeve, and makes him promise to eat properly, to not get into trouble, and to call every week. She gets back into the car, waving back at him as she drives off.
Taerae helps him move in, waiting by the elevators until Junhyeon finishes waving. They haul the boxes into Junhyeon’s dorm room and sit with an exhausted sigh on his bed once they’re done.
“Welcome to Seoul,” Taerae exhales, flopping back on the mattress next to Junhyeon.
Junhyeon manages a hum. He’d woken up way too early for the drive over and his arms ache. Taerae nudges him in the arm, right where it hurts.
“Let’s go eat something good to celebrate, my treat.”
Junhyeon grins, springing back up.
“Deal.”
Taerae is in walking distance again, and they have two more years together now, before the great unknown of proper working life that Junhyeon will pointedly not think about. Taerae doesn’t seem to mind that Junhyeon clings to him amongst the bustle of university life, in a city that seems to move too fast for even him to keep up with. When their schedules align they grab lunch together, and have coffee like the proper adults they are.
He thinks he’s adjusting quite well, but when Taerae runs into a friend he doesn’t know it hits Junhyeon that he’s still behind. Taerae has always had a head start. He can drive now, and he goes out and drinks with people Junhyeon will probably never know. This Taerae is sure of himself, no longer the anxious boy that used to follow him around or indulge Junhyeon in his childish games.
He wants to hurry and catch up. He’s never gotten the big deal about alcohol, but he buys a few bottles of soju with his new ID and Taerae invites him into his apartment, a cosy studio decorated with family photos and books Junhyeon didn’t know he liked to read.
Being tipsy isn’t so bad, it’s pretty fun actually. He feels warm all over, his mind a little foggy, but that could just be because Taerae is curled up next to him. There’s a corny romance movie playing on the TV because Taerae still has bad taste, and the sweetness of the popcorn they’re sharing helps the alcohol go down a little easier.
“Hey,” Taerae says, while the couple on screen kiss in the rain.
Junhyeon hums in response. He wasn’t really paying attention anyway.
Taerae is hugging a pillow to his chest, looking perfectly comfy, but he picks at the frayed edges of the blanket across their laps like he’s nervous to speak.
“I have to tell you something.”
Oh no. This is never the predecessor to good news.
“The thing is,” Taerae fiddles with his sleeves now, in a hoodie with their university logo that is a size too big on him. “I have a boyfriend.”
The alcohol slows his thoughts, and Junhyeon registers dimly that the couple are arguing now, still wet from the rain. How did they get there, when things were going so well just a few moments earlier?
“Huh?” Junhyeon says.
“He asked me out randomly, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance, you know. So uh, we’ve been dating for two months now.”
“Oh.” The woman is crying now, watching him leave. It’s entirely too dramatic, the sad music and the way her makeup streams down her cheeks and the way Junhyeon feels his heart break in his chest. “What kind of guy is he?” He asks, because he supposes when he’s drunk he gets masochistic.
“He’s…really sweet. In the ‘mean to everyone but me’ kind of way. I thought he was a bit intimidating at first, but…” Junhyeon wants to think Taerae is joking, but his eyes have that dreamy, far away look. “He’s romantic and he buys me flowers and he makes me laugh. Like he’s tough on the outside but soft on the inside.”
They don’t talk about romance. They had never cared for it, or rather Junhyeon didn’t care about anyone else enough to bring it up. He thinks they mentioned it once, on some day during high school when it was impossible to avoid dating gossip. Taerae had asked about his ideal type, and Junhyeon must have named some random actress he’d heard was popular, because he couldn’t say he’d only ever imagined kissing his best friend. He’d asked Taerae in return, even though he’d rather not know. Someone kind, Taerae had answered, tough on the outside but soft on the inside.
Junhyeon doesn’t think he’s ever really considered his chances; he thinks a part of him will probably be hopelessly tied to Taerae no matter what happens. Junhyeon likes to work with practicalities: the returns for his hard work, the support of his family and friends, the way Taerae laughs at his jokes like he’s the funniest person in the world. He’ll take what he can get when he can, because he’s used to people slipping out of reach.
But Taerae is soft to his core, the type to dream about getting married to his soulmate and starting a family and achieving world peace. He could probably get it, he deserves it, and Junhyeon knows if he had the chance he'd try his damn best to make it all happen.
“Actually I was wondering,” Taerae says, hesitant. “If you’d want to meet him. I’d love it if you guys could get along, and I sort of want a second opinion on him too.”
In all these years, he’s never imagined Taerae dating anyone else. He likes to focus on the positives, you see. Junhyeon doesn’t see the point in worrying about the worst outcomes when he could be preparing for the better ones. He also tends to charge into things headfirst without considering them properly. He’s at least six years into loving Taerae when he realises that he has no idea what he’s gotten himself into. He’s only really had him by his side for two of them so far, and that thought terrifies him.
Maybe he's been chasing an afterimage, loving glimpses of a boy that doesn't exist anymore.
Taerae has a boyfriend that isn’t him, and Junhyeon has had too much to drink. Those facts make his stomach churn uncomfortably, and he thinks he just wants the night to be over.
“Sure,” he says stupidly. “I’d like to meet him.”
Taerae smiles at him again, cheeks warm from the alcohol and talking about a man that seems to be everything Junhyeon isn’t.
Junhyeon never figures out how the movie ends.