Chapter Text
Jeongguk isn’t quite sure what he was thinking. Then again, what is one supposed to think when they’ve been left at the altar? A million and one things are going through his head, but currently Jeongguk is doing his best to interpret the printed instructions on the paper in his hand while avoiding driving off the side of a snowy mountain.
Is it a little masochistic for him to still be going on his honeymoon trip with no honey in tow? Possibly. But the mountainside bnb had a no refund policy, firmly stated several times throughout the booking process- so firm was the no-refund-policy that it’s burned in Jeongguk’s brain even a year after originally booking. A year ago, he hadn’t thought he would even need to cancel. Then again, he hadn’t thought his boyfriend-turned-fiance of five years would be a no show at his own wedding.
Focus on driving, Jeongguk reminds himself when he comes an inch too close for comfort to the edge of the road. It’s not an exaggeration that this road is on the side of a mountain, which means he must be getting close. The crunching sound of gravel under his tires is muted thanks to the snow, but has begun to grate on his nerves anyway. Although he’s not historically scared of heights, there’s definitely something unnerving about being this high up. If he wasn’t so scared of driving off a mountain, Jeongguk would probably enjoy the view.
Finally, a side road appears, and he turns left away from the edge, further into the trees. Distantly, he wonders what kind of person survives out here- and (judging from the “main” road he just turned off of) how many more people live further out than this bnb owner. A blue cottage appears, pronounced against the pine trees, evergreen even under the recent snow.
He parks in a spot labeled with a ‘guests’ sign, which seems a little overkill considering the booking online said it could only accommodate four people max. He reads over the arrival instructions on the piece of paper he’d printed, and makes his way over to the smaller building tucked behind the main cottage. He knocks on the door and waits, somewhat impatiently, wishing he’d put gloves on.
The man who opens the door surprises him- Jeongguk had assumed it would be someone, well, old. Someone who’d already lived a life and didn’t need the constant offerings of a city or even suburb. But no, this guy has got to be Jeongguk’s age, or close to it, unless he’s just got incredible genetics or lots of plastic surgery.
“Hi, my name is Jeongguk,” Jeongguk introduces, holding out a hand to shake (because he’s polite, not because his fingers are cold).
“Taehyung,” the guy replies. “Glad you made it out here in one piece. The snow sometimes scares people off.”
“You have a no refund policy, which was a little scarier,” Jeongguk answers, making the guy smile.
“That’s fair,” Taehyung admits. “Gotta keep this place running somehow. Aren’t there supposed to be two of you? Are they unloading luggage?”
“There were supposed to be two of us,” Jeongguk says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. He locks his gaze on the door behind Taehyung, willing himself to stay calm. “Change of plans. It’s just me.”
“Okay, not a problem,” Taehyung replies easily, clearly picking up on Jeongguk’s tension. “Let me show you around the place.”
**********
To his credit, Taehyung waits three days before he finally prods Jeongguk a little deeper on why he’s the only one. If the roles were reversed, Jeongguk is certain he would’ve pressed the matter immediately (though it would likely be out of tactlessness, not curiosity). Still, Jeongguk has barely moved from his spot in the armchair, a fact that Taehyung has probably noted. The last two mornings went something like:
“Breakfast,” Taehyung calls after two short knocks on the door.
“It’s open,” Jeongguk responds from the armchair, nodding when Taehyung enters. “You can just leave it on the dining table.”
“Just leave the dishes on the tray, I’ll grab them later,” Taehyung instructs. He’s polite enough not to comment on the amount of food Jeongguk left behind both times.
This morning goes just a little differently.
“Breakfast.”
“It’s open,” the sound of the door opening and closing. “Just leave it on the table.”
“No,” Taehyung says, prompting Jeongguk to look up from the sudoku puzzle he’s solving. He hates sudoku. It’s the same puzzle as the last two days.
“Excuse me?”
“Listen, I’m not in the business of being nosey, but you need to eat something,” Taehyung says. “It would be terrible if you starved in my cottage. I currently have only 5-star reviews, and I want to keep it that way.”
“I’ve been eating,” Jeongguk grumbles defensively, but Taehyung just looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
“You have not been eating enough to sustain a, what, thirty year old man’s body, Jeongguk,” Taehyung claims. “I know you haven’t been cooking yourself- I know what this kitchen looks like when guests cook in it, and it’s untouched. The scrambled eggs and single toast triangle are not enough for you, and I’m not leaving until you eat this whole plate.”
“So what, now you’re a dietician too?” Jeongguk shoots him a glare that, admittedly, does not have much fire behind it.
“Here, you don’t even have to get up,” Taehyung says, walking over and placing the tray of food- toast, eggs, fruit, yogurt, granola, orange juice- on his lap. Then he sits down on the couch, pulls out his phone, and starts playing some kind of game, occasionally glancing at Jeongguk.
Jeongguk eats.
It’s embarrassing how hungry he realizes he is, now that he’s eating under the scrutiny of someone else.
“So I was reviewing your booking details,” Taehyung starts, still looking at his phone screen. “It said you’re supposed to be on a honeymoon.”
The eggs in Jeongguk’s mouth suddenly taste like ash, but he forces himself to swallow.
“Did y’all call off the wedding?” Taehyung asks when it becomes clear that Jeongguk has nothing to say. Jeongguk shakes his head. “Change of heart?” he asks, to which Jeongguk shrugs. “Is this a game of 20 questions?”
“Sure,” Jeongguk says. It’s easier than trying to explain everything himself. His throat is already too tight.
“Are you married?” No.
“Did you have a wedding?” Yes.
“Did they not take you as their lawfully wedded husband?” No.
“Did you not take them as your lawfully wedded… person?” No.
“Did you exchange vows?” No.
“Did you go to the wedding?” Yes.
“Did they go to the wedding?” No.
“Oh,” a pause. And then, “I’m sorry.”
“I was there at the altar… but when the wedding party walked down, he wasn’t at the end of it,” Jeongguk croaks out. He looks at the tray for something, anything, to shove down his throat because choking is preferable to crying in front of his bnb host.
“Wanna grab some coffee?” Taehyung asks after Jeongguk eats a couple more bites. “Not like- sorry. Just, the coffee I buy to have around for guests is shitty bulk coffee. There’s a guy up the road who’s got great coffee. You look like you need to treat yourself a little.”
“I look like crap,” Jeongguk scoffs, mostly to himself.
“Nah, you just look a little heartbroken,” Taehyung reassures, as if that’s reassurance. “High quality coffee will help.”
**********
After that morning, they seem to make it a habit: Taehyung will come in with breakfast, make sure Jeongguk eats it all, and suggest various things that his tiny mountainside community has to offer. The first morning it was coffee, the next was a popular hike, then the Mexican restaurant, and so on. Nothing more than one outing a day, and Jeongguk has to admit that it’s doing wonders for his mental health. He’s still heartbroken- it’s a constant dull feeling in his chest, thudding each time his heart pumps blood to the rest of his body, and he can’t just will it away.
But it hurts a little less when he’s out and about with Taehyung. Not in a romantic way- although if the circumstances were different, Jeongguk is sure that he’d be attracted to the bnb host. But the companionship, somewhat forced on him, is a welcome distraction. Taehyung has no skin in the game of Jeongguk’s life, Taehyung doesn’t need to care about him. But he does, enough to drag Jeongguk out of that blue cottage each day and prove that just because he lives way back in the mountains doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a life.
“Yeah, we get really fired up during football season,” Taehyung concludes, rounding out the story of when the power had gone out midway through the super bowl a few years ago. Tonight they’re at a sports bar, which makes Jeongguk laugh when Taehyung calls it a sports bar. It’s the only bar in his town. Taehyung motions towards the bartender, “I thought someone was going to get murdered until Jerry went out back and plugged in his generator.”
Around them, folks are milling around, chit chatting, drinking, and playing pool (get this: you don’t even have to pay to play. Jeongguk officially loves tiny town bars). There’s only one TV, and half the patrons are focused on the football game playing.
“I’m not really a sports guy, least of all football,” Jeongguk admits, taking a sip of his beer. “But I picked a few things up, so I could make conversation with-”
My fiance.
Shit. Will this feeling ever go away?
“Same here,” Taehyung fills in when Jeongguk doesn’t continue. “I kinda wish both teams could win, but everyone loves football so much it’s not fun if you don’t know what’s going on.”
“Yeah.”
“Another round of pool?” Taehyung asks, ignoring the dip in Jeongguk’s mood. He’s lost every single game so far, which can’t be a good time. Jeongguk nods, figuring if Taehyung is willing to suffer through another loss then he should take up the offer.
**********
On the last full day of Jeongguk’s rental, Taehyung wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn. Thankfully it’s not a surprise, having discussed the plan the night before, but it still hurts Jeongguk to be awake so early. Taehyung wordlessly hands him a mug of coffee, cooled down enough so Jeongguk can simply chug it, and heads back out the door while Jeongguk changes.
Jeongguk has never gone on a sunrise hike before- how could he, really? He doesn’t live near any good hiking spots, and it would’ve been an extra insult to injury to drive two hours just to get to the trailhead for such an early hike. But that’s what they’re doing at this ungodly hour: going for a sunrise hike.
Jeongguk will admit that it’s a neat experience. The sun isn’t even up yet, so they start the hike with flashlights, only turning them off when the forest becomes a muted gray and they can finally make out the trail in front of them. Taehyung keeps pushing them, barely stopping for breaks, saying “no, we have to make it when the sun is rising. It’ll be worth it, I promise”.
When they arrive at the lookout point, Jeongguk doesn’t even have the breath to admit Taehyung is correct. Below them, the entire mountainside is bathed in gold, the sun glinting off the snow and creating a blinding kaleidoscope of winter beauty. The surrounding mountains seem to go on for miles, shades of white snow, yellow sun, green trees, and pink and purple peaks.
“Are you ready for the best part?” Taehyung asks, a sneaky smile on his face. His nose and cheeks are bright pink, breath coming out in clouds.
“There’s a part better than this view?” Jeongguk asks in complete disbelief. Taehyung laughs.
“Yeah, check it out,” he braces himself against the fencing and before Jeongguk can ask what he’s doing, yells. Really, truly yells at the top of his lungs.
It startles Jeongguk, to say the least. “Dude, won’t that start, like, an avalanche or something?” he asks when the last of Taehyung’s yell finishes echoing.
“Heck no, that’s only in movies,” Taehyung laughs again. “You try.”
So Jeongguk does, because so far, Taehyung hasn’t been wrong about any of the adventures they’ve been on. The coffee was excellent, all the hikes have been gorgeous, the Mexican restaurant delicious, and the sports bar charming. So he turns towards the valley in front of him and yells.
And god does it feel good.
Jeongguk yells, incoherent sound waves turn into every swear word he has in his vocabulary which turns into cursing out his ex-fiance until his throat feels like gravel and he realizes he’s sobbing. And it hurts- hurts his throat, hurts his heart, makes it feel like the wound in his soul never even began to heal. He yells and it feels like ripping the ridiculously insufficient bandaid off his heart so it can be replaced with stitches, a wound properly bandaged up so it can hopefully heal without infection or complication.
He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Taehyung standing there, glowing in the sunrise. He has a pained expression on his face, but he’s holding a pack of tissues out for Jeongguk.
“Thanks,” Jeongguk says, throat raw and voice scratchy. His nose is running, a combination of the crying and the cold, and the tear tracks on his face kind of feel like they might be freezing. “You’re right. That was the best part.”
“Tell me about it,” Taehyung nods. “It’s why I chose to stay out here. Found out my husband had and still was cheating while we were on our honeymoon. He went back home, and I… just stayed here. Found a place to live in town, worked odd jobs, and when the previous bnb owner said he was moving to assisted living, I asked if I could take over.”
“Didn’t realize you could relate so much,” Jeongguk says, dabbing at his face with a handful of tissues. All their interactions and adventures suddenly make a lot more sense. “I don’t think I can pull a geographic, though.”
“You don’t need to,” Taehyung reassures him. “It’s not for everyone. In AA, pulling a geographic usually, not always but often, means you’re choosing to start over fresh rather than make internal changes.”
“Still, having a friend who lives in the middle of nowhere in the woods on a mountain seems like a good card to have up your sleeve,” Jeongguk comments, smiling. It’s possibly the first genuine smile he’s felt in weeks.
“You’re always welcome here,” Taehyung pulls him into a brief side hug. “Let’s finish watching this sunrise, yeah?”
“Yeah.”