Chapter Text
Jeongguk meets Taehyung because he’s shy.
He’s six and sitting at the edge of the playground while plucking and picking at dandelions, quietly blowing seeds into the warm wind and wishing for nothing in particular. A new bike, maybe. Jeongguk likes bikes because he learned how to ride on two wheels (two wheels!) as soon as he turned five, and his mom praised him, claiming his older brother couldn’t ride one until he was nearly six and a half. He blows on the dandelion and thinks about riding around with his hyung when a pair of dirtied shoes and stubby knees and the same shorts he’s wearing come to a standstill next to him.
He turns in a slight shock, hurriedly stuffing his dandelions back into the ground. When he looks up, there’s a pair of wide brown eyes staring back at him. This boy has dark brown hair and a curious smile. There's a streak of some dirt on his cheek, but he doesn’t move to wipe it off.
“Why are you throwing away your fluff flowers?” The boy asks, plopping down next to Jeongguk without waiting for a response. “Wishes should be saved, not trashed.”
The way he says it makes it sound like something Merlin would say, and Jeongguk eyes him with mild distrust.
The boy doesn’t notice, reaching over Jeongguk’s knees to grab the dandelions and happily offering one to Jeongguk. “I’m Kim Taehyung! We can play, right?”
Jeongguk’s answer is a hesitant shrug. He snatches the dandelion out of Taehyung’s hand and curls up into himself, uncomfortably tucking his knees up to his chin and hugging his legs with one arm, holding the single dandelion in front of him with his other hand. He’s not looking at it, though. He’s too busy inspecting Taehyung, who sends him a mischievous side glance before whispering,
“I wish my new friend would talk to me or tell me his name.”
Taehyung blows the dandelion with so much determination, his face scrunches up. The seeds go flying much further than Jeongguk could ever hope to make his go. It’s just a lucky breeze, he says to himself, even if he now has a sneaking suspicion that this Taehyung might be magic.
After he blows the dandelion to bits, Taehyung sends him a hopeful look. Jeongguk sees sparkles in his eyes and decides that, yes, this boy is magic, and it would do him good not to get on Taehyung’s bad side.
He knows he doesn’t exchange much words with any friends he’s made (read: other kids he’s forced onto play-dates with), and even less with teachers when it’s not a respectful “good morning seonsangnim”, but Jeongguk lifts his chin from where it’d been buried in his elbow and offers a slightly awkward, “Jeon Jeongguk.”
“Jeonggukkie,” Taehyung repeats immediately. “Are you gonna make a wish too?”
Jeongguk kind of wants to say no.
But he doesn’t.
Jeongguk quietly wishes for ordered-out yangnyeom tongdak and blows the dandelion. The seeds only go a foot or so away before they fall miserably to the ground.
Taehyung laughs and tells him he’ll buy Jeongguk food in the future. This elicits a small smile from the younger boy. He unwinds by an inch, back straightening only minutely to get a better gist of what Taehyung begins rambling on about before the bell rings three times for them to go back inside.
As the lines for classes are formed, Jeongguk spots Taehyung in one of the older grades. A grin is sent his way, as well as a v-sign, before Taehyung is scolded for acting rowdy.
Jeongguk muffles a giggle in his collar.
“I don’t want you to hide your smile anymore,” Taehyung tells him, very seriously, four months later.
Taehyung’s eight-years-old but Jeongguk refuses to believe this knowledge even though whenever he goes over to Taehyung’s house, his mom laughs and tells him that, yes, Taehyung was definitely born almost two years (three months, it doesn’t count!) before he was. Taehyung hangs off him too much and Jeongguk learns to let him.
“I don’t hide it though?” Jeongguk asks more than protests, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
In response, Taehyung shuffles closer on the carpet, sitting so that he’s face-to-face with Jeongguk at the edge of his bed.
Jeongguk gives him a quizzical look.
Taehyung lifts his hands to his own ears and pulls them outwards, dipping his head closer to Jeongguk as he pulls a funny face; he narrows his eyes and stares upwards, lips pulling into a goofy smile, tongue sticking out.
“What are you doing?” Jeongguk questions, holding back a giggle.
Taehyung drops the face and gives Jeongguk a look of exasperation. “Trying to make you laugh!” He exclaims, reaching forward to poke Jeongguk in the stomach swiftly. Jeongguk scowls in protest, but Taehyung just laughs brightly and pulls the same face he’d been making previously.
“It’s not working,” Jeongguk informs.
“It will. I promise.”
The way Taehyung looks when he talks - eyes still looking at the ceiling and tongue twisting his words - is what does Jeongguk in.
Jeongguk breaks into a smile and he ducks his head slightly, lifting his hands up to hide his mouth.
“Like that!” Taehyung nearly yells, hopping forward and pushing Jeongguk to the floor in a heap. “You gotta stop hiding your smile!”
Jeongguk laughs loudly, throwing his head back and trying to push Taehyung off his body. “No! Why? Why?”
Taehyung backs off and falls on the floor next to him, yelping in pain when his butt hits the wood. He mutters angrily about legos for a moment, digging under his thigh to pick up a small yellow object, chucking it across the room. “Because.”
“My mom says that’s not a real answer.”
A stink-eye is sent his way. “Because I like it. Okay?”
It should be a weird thing to say, or at least that’s what Jeongguk’s older brother, Jeonghyun, said about liking other boys and their smiles or, well, their anything. However, Taehyung was one to say things Jeongguk wasn’t used to hearing. Jeongguk didn’t think it was weird. Or bad. Or anything that didn’t make him happy.
Jeongguk sends Taehyung a contented smile.
“Okay, hyung.”
-
There are stars stuck to Taehyung’s ceiling.
They’ve been there since before he was born. That’s what Taehyung tells him, proudly puffing out his chest, as he shuts off the light at nine o’clock sharp so they could go to sleep. Jeongguk is lying on Taehyung’s bed, back flat against the soft mattress, and feels something like envy (or fondness) build up in his six-year-old chest when little neon stars light up, scattered over top of him.
Taehyung climbs into bed with him. His breathing is steady, and for some reason, Jeongguk can feel Taehyung’s excited little smile like it’s an extension of his aura. That’s what Taehyung’s magic was. Happiness.
An arm nudges Jeongguk’s, followed by: “It’s cool, ain’t it?”
Sparkles seem to follow the statement. Jeongguk could be discovering something--he just doesn’t know what it is, and vows silently to himself to find out what it is.
Jeongguk nods before he realizes neither him nor Taehyung are capable of night-vision. Taehyung must feel the shift in the pillow because he whispers, “Isn’t it, Jeonggukkie?”
He huffs a laugh out and turns on his side, barely able to make out Taehyung’s face in the dark. He can see the general outline but it’s enough. “It’s cool,” Jeongguk allows, voice carefully quiet. “But don’t you think they’ll stop… shining?”
Taehyung’s eyes widen so much, Jeongguk can make out the whites of his eyes. “No,” Taehyung mutters, “I never thought that. I’ll make sure they shine forever!”
The exclamation is loud enough to churn a yell to go to sleep from Taehyung’s mom. Taehyung clamps his mouth shut and tries to silence his giggles by shoving his face into Jeongguk’s shoulder.
Whatever spurs Jeongguk to say, “Can I help?” must really love to embarrass him. He colors swiftly.
Although, Taehyung seems elated. “Of course you can, Jeonggukkie. You’ll… you’ll count them to make sure none go missing, and I’ll make sure they always shine. Forever and ever. We’ll be a team.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Taehyung falls asleep between the fourth and fifth reassurance.
On the ceiling, there are exactly 43 neon stars faintly blinking down at him and Taehyung.
-
Taehyung’s bike is bright red and has streamers coming out the side of his bar.
It’s alarmingly similar to Jeongguk’s; the only difference is that Jeongguk’s is blue where Taehyung’s is red, and Taehyung’s is slightly larger due to his taller height (and no, Jeongguk’s definitely not jealous). Jeongguk’s older brother points it out with a laugh and leads them down the road on his big, huge, big-boy bike.
“We’re gonna get ice cream!” Jeonghyun yells back at them when he’s more than five meters ahead of them, throwing a canine-filled smile over his shoulder.
“Awesome!” Shouts Taehyung, laughter following the word.
Jeongguk smiles largely. He wants ice cream, but being eight, he’s not good at focusing on something too long.
Except maybe Taehyung.
He eyes him when they get to a red light. The red lights in Busan last for roughly thirty seconds, and they’re even quicker than that when close to the beach. The traffic is ridiculous, and Taehyung ‘ahhh’s when he sees a particularly nice vehicle.
Taehyung’s gotten darker. He always gets darker in the summer, and it compliments the way the sun shines down onto him. Jeongguk sometimes wishes he could tan as well but his mom loves his pale skin and never lets him go out carelessly without less than a liter of sunscreen on his skin.
“Jeonggukkie,” Taehyung pipes up, swiftly turning his head to regard the younger boy. Jeongguk pales when Taehyung raises his eyebrows, perplexed about being stared at. “What kind of ice cream are you going to get?”
Jeongguk considers for virtually zero seconds. “Strawberry and vanilla.” He smiles to himself at the sweet thought.
Taehyung sticks out his tongue, singing, “Boring.”
“What you’re getting is probably more boring,” Jeongguk protests, furrowing his brows and pushing lightly at Taehyung’s shoulder. The light turns green and they set forth, walking with their bikes at their sides.
The older boy has the nerve to look offended. “Mint chocolate chip is the least boring ice cream!”
“Says moms everywhere.”
“You’re mouthy today, yah?” Jeonghyun turns, beckoning them when they’re not going fast enough. “Let’s go, hurry, or I won’t buy you anything.”
Both Jeongguk and Taehyung know the threat is real from experience, so they mount their bikes and hurry after him.
Jeongguk laughs at Taehyung when he gets ice cream on the tip of his nose.
There’s a freckle there that he hadn’t noticed before.
-
Taehyung joins the baseball team when he turns eleven.
Something about being fit but Jeongguk is nine, so he doesn’t particularly care about being fit. What he does care about is the amount of time he takes up in Taehyung’s day. It feels like a hand being thrust into his stomach when he realizes, very promptly, summer’s will be much more boring when Taehyung is gone for three hours a day and sometimes entire weekends for competitions up in Daegu or Seoul. Jeongguk knows he’s juvenile because of this selfish thought.
Naturally, Jeongguk joins the team along with Taehyung about a week after the older boy does. Taehyung cheers when he finds out, claiming they’ll become major leagues in no time. “Maybe we’ll go play baseball in L.A. together!” Taehyung says when he sees Jeongguk on their way to their first practice, shining with confidence.
And Jeongguk would be excited under any circumstances. He hasn’t been in the same club as Taehyung--not ever, at least not one they didn’t make up for themselves, such as the one wherein Jeongguk finds himself counting the stars on Taehyung ceiling (#34 had to be retaped on, and it had been a harrowing task).
Jeongguk would be excited.
It’s just that they both suck at baseball. Majorly. Major league suck, as Taehyung eloquently puts it, when they’re running laps after practice for ‘conditioning’ and have sweat running down their foreheads and cheeks and necks and backs. Jeongguk agrees.
Taehyung’s hair sticks to his forehead. He pushes it back with a grimace. “Ew.”
“It’s not bad,” Jeongguk shrugs, even though his insides yell disagreements. It doesn’t matter that he voices a disagreement, though, because both him and Taehyung are bent over and trying to catch a breath of air. Taehyung simply isn’t a person who works out much, and Jeongguk’s biggest contribution to his physical health is biking to the store or Taehyung’s every now and then.
“That’s because you’re more-” Taehyung starts to say, but is interrupted by a loud,
“Hey! You two! Get a move on!”
Jeongguk, startled, begins running again right away. He doesn’t spare a glance to Taehyung or his new coach, albeit he has no doubt that Taehyung sends a tongue-face to their coach once he turns his back.
“Jeonggukkie,” Taehyung calls some feet behind him, two or three minutes later. He sounds winded. “Wait for meeee,” He whines, sounding every bit like he should be younger than Jeongguk.
Jeongguk turns around, running backwards now. “Just run a little faster,” He instructs, grinning cheekily.
“You think I haven’t tried? I’m too fat,” Taehyung pouts angrily.
“You’re skinny, Taehyung.”
“Hyung, you mean,” The older boy corrects. They’re slowing down now, significantly slower than the rest of the team. “It’s hyung, Jeongguk-ah.”
Jeongguk giggles.
Abruptly stops, because his foot catches on something and he falls to the ground with a pained yelp.
A sharp ache shoots through his left ankle and it takes all of Jeongguk’s learned manliness to stop tears from forming. Unfortunately, he whimpers upon poking at it hesitantly. The grass is cool against his back and it’s a relief--it’s a shame he had to find out the wonder of relaxing after a hard day of physical activity by breaking his ankle.
Taehyung’s panicky face would be hilarious under any other circumstance.
(Not; the last time he saw Taehyung’s panicky face, they were in a haunted house and Taehyung gripped his hand hard enough for the blood to stop circulating in favor of racing around his heart.)
Jeongguk is about to tell him he’s okay, but Taehyung’s opening his mouth and yelling for someone to come help! He then turns to Jeongguk and the wideness of his eyes completely shocks Jeongguk, who feels the sudden urge to cringe and laugh because how mortifying, please stop, Taehyung. The coach begins to walk over. Taehyung pays no mind and only grabs at Jeongguk’s hand, asking him, “Are you okay? Do you need hyung to carry you?”
“I-I’m okay,” Jeongguk reassures. His hands suddenly itch to do something. Pull out grass. Pull at his shirt. Push his ankle back into place so he won’t have to deal with Taehyung. “Don’t carry me.”
Taehyung looks like he’s ready to fight for his right to carry Jeongguk right up until a shadow looms over them both.
Coach deduces that Jeongguk had sprained his ankle, scolded him about running unsafely, and calls Jeongguk’s mom to pick him up. He nearly carries Jeongguk to the bench near the parking lot. Jeongguk focuses on the pain in his foot inside of Taehyung’s piercing glare against the coach’s nape. He informs Jeongguk that his mom will be there soon and leaves him alone.
By extension, Taehyung is by his side. He’s holding both his and Jeongguk’s bags.
When Jeongguk’s mom pulls up, she calls them a package deal and smothers both of them. Jeongguk, because he’s injured. And Taehyung, because, “You always take such good care of my baby! Thank you, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung beams.
Thanks, Jeongguk thinks. He smiles at Taehyung when they lock eyes.
On the way to the hospital, they drop off Taehyung. He salutes them through the passenger-door window and wishes Jeongguk good luck at the doctors.
Even though it’s not a cast, just a gauze, Taehyung spends twenty minutes carefully drawing a picture.
It’s a dinosaur, and Jeongguk loves it.
-
Ten meets Jeongguk with realizations he hadn’t let himself explore before.
Halfway through being ten, Jeongguk reads a book. He had thought it was about time to become an intellectual. Ten was an important age, after all. Double-digits. Taehyung had made it a point to stress the importance of being ten on Jeongguk’s birthday, even going as far as to make enough cupcakes to spell out “ten!” for him and Jeongguk to devour. He presented Jeongguk with a book called The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly. He claims that the book is literature mastery.
Jeongguk had heard of it before, and he accepted it easily enough.
So, yes. Halfway through being ten, Jeongguk realizes with a start he hadn’t even started reading the book Taehyung gifted him. To be fair, he once was meant to read it for an assignment two years before, but simply didn’t get around to it. He’s not a big reader.
Jeongguk decides that Taehyung would be sad to find out his gift wasn’t appreciated. He decides to read it.
Jeongguk finishes it. He’s enlightened.
It’s not because of the book.
It’s because he discovers that he’d do just about anything for Kim Taehyung, including but not limited to:
- reading a book;
- joining a team for a sport he doesn’t even like;
- counting stars on ceilings every time he sleeps over, even if Taehyung doesn’t make him because nowadays it feels more like a personal reassurance than anything else;
- singing karaoke; and
- falling in love-
Jeongguk remains as calm as possible.
That last bullet hasn’t popped up on his mental list before.
Ten meets Jeongguk with widened eyes and heavy breathing and the selfish promise to never let anyone know, never let anyone have an inkling of an idea, that he may or may not be in love with his stupid wonderfulamazingfunny 12-year-old boy best friend.
He lies on his back in the middle of his bedroom floor.
Taehyung climbs in Jeongguk’s bedroom window at nearly nine o’clock. He says he’s just had his first kiss. Jeongguk must have really, really bad luck, because he has to suffer through a recollection of Taehyung’s first kiss.
“It was bad,” Taehyung concludes, right before Jeongguk thought his heart was to be cut in half.
“Bad?” Jeongguk echoes quickly.
“Yeah.” Taehyung licks his lip, and gives Jeongguk a look he’s unfamiliar with. “I would have preferred someone else.”
“Who?”
Taehyung smiles at him. His lips are redder than usual.
“Someone special.”
-
Taehyung moves to another school when Jeongguk turns eleven.
He can’t help but feel bitter about it.
The generalization of Jeongguk's school life was that it was uneventful. Boring. If it were a textbook, the only sentences lit up by highlighters would be those that are about Taehyung. One chapter about Jeongguk meeting Taehyung - that entire chapter, all sections and diagrams and keywords, would be painted neon yellow. One or two paragraphs about what Taehyung contributed to Jeongguk's school life. Neon orange to show the reader what times Taehyung would steal Jeongguk away from class and get them into trouble because he'd wanted to share his special homemade lunches with him. Neon green to illustrate the time Taehyung found a way to the roof of their little elementary school.
Neon blue to show that Jeongguk is still too shy to talk to anyone unless he's directly spoken to. Neon pink to point out that Taehyung's presence made Jeongguk's school worth attending.
He can only act petulant for so long, because Taehyung shows up at Jeongguk's house about half an hour after his last class concludes and his uniform is so much more mature than Jeongguk's. The pants aren't plaid. He's wearing converse instead of weird dressy ones, and instead of bitter, Jeongguk feels something akin to excitement.
"Look at this!" Taehyung turns his bag upside down and dumps a lifetime's worth of paper and supplies on Jeongguk's floor, pens clattering on the wooden floorboards unpleasantly. Jeongguk stares. Taehyung picks up a booklet labeled career choices and flips to a page with the word 'careers' written in thick letters. "My new teacher said we should start thinking about our futures-"
Jeongguk's something akin to excitement deflates faster than Taehyung can finish his sentence; he's so not keen on thinking about a career in two years.
"-and I was thinking I should be a pilot. Or something like that. I like adventuring and I want to travel the world, and taking a bunch of people to places like Hawaii seems like a lot of fun, so..."
Taehyung taps his cheek and narrows his eyes, shaking his shoulders lightly, the way he does when he can't find a way to finish his sentence.
"It's fitting," Jeongguk puts in.
"Exactly."
"You'll be a good pilot," Jeongguk smiles. He might be flirting. (In actuality, he doesn't know how to flirt, so Jeongguk ignores the way Taehyung's returning grin is slightly more bashful than usual.)
"Do you really think so?"
"Of course."
"Thank you, Jeonggukkie."
"Stop calling me that," Jeongguk scolds, only half-kidding. "You're an adult now."
Taehyung chortles, "Adult. Please, Jeonggukkie. When we're fifty, I'll be calling you Jeonggukkie. When you're on your deathbed and I'm by your side, I'll be calling you Jeonggukkie."
Promise? Jeongguk thinks. He fiercely banishes the thought. Instead, he shoves Taehyung in the shoulder lightly, telling him to shut up.
Taehyung dramatically falls to the ground.
Taehyung also dramatically lessens the times he visits.
Something about workload and new groups and new friends. He meets someone named Park Jimin, and brings him around to meet Jeongguk during his fourth month of school. The only warning Jeongguk has is "you're going to make a new friend!" and Jeongguk's anxiety is enough to make him susceptible to blurting whatever came to mind, so when he's finally face-to-face with Jimin after Taehyung joyfully introduces them.
"Nice to meet you," Jimin greets, smiling politely. Even though it's a small smile, it makes his entire face contort into the cutest expression Jeongguk's ever seen on a thirteen-year-old boy (excluding Taehyung - he's a special case). His cheeks blow up and his eyes crinkle.
Jeongguk feels like telling Jimin he's cute, sweet-looking, and he really only wants to say hi back. What comes out of his nervous mouth is, "You're really short?"
Taehyung laughs so hard that he hunches over and holds his stomach. It's endearing.
Jimin scowls until Jeongguk sputters out about twenty apologies, ending with, "Nice to meet you, Park Jimin-sunbae-hyung."
"Sunbae-hyung?" Jimin repeats, seemingly testing the words out on his tongue. "I like it. Apology accepted."
The way Jimin giggles makes Jeongguk wonder if he was ever required to say sorry in the first place.
He invites them in.
As it turns out, by Jimin-extension, there's another boy named Yoongi. He's almost a high-schooler.
Jeongguk only meets him once. That time comes when he goes to Taehyung's to drop off a sweater the older boy had forgotten during one of their sleepovers, and he walks into Taehyung's room without knocking or asking because that's what best friends do.
That's what Jeongguk and Taehyung do.
Understandably, Jeongguk startles out of his skin when he looks at Taehyung's bed and sees someone who is distinctly not Taehyung lying on the white and blue covers. Taehyung isn't as pale, and Taehyung's mouth is thicker and his eyes are more puppy than they are feline, and Taehyung doesn't cock an eyebrow at him and refer to him as, "Who's the kid?" when he walks in.
Taehyung's voice says, "Jeonggukkie!"
He pops up in front of Jeongguk, an expression of confusion marring his features. "Why are you here?"
Jeongguk needs a reason to be here now? Since when?
He peers around, answering, "Dropping off something you forgot." Jeongguk notices with discontentment that his voice is quieter than usual. He'd originally planned to stay for a while, but Jimin is chilling on the floor with papers scattered around him. He's not nervous because of Jimin. He's nervous because Taehyung has people Jeongguk doesn't even know.
He shouldn't be nervous.
Jeongguk's eyes flit back to the boy on the bed.
Taehyung must sense his perplexedness, because he says, "That's Yoongi. Jimin's friend. Yoongi, this is Jeon Jeongguk, my best friend. Jeongguk, he's old. Don't mind him. Do you want to stay for a while?"
Yoongi scowls at Taehyung's back. It looks half-hearted at best.
"No." Jeongguk steps back into the hall. "No. Thanks, though. I have homework."
He doesn't have homework. There's just a lot of things wrong with the scenario. It feels like culture-shock, even if Taehyung is the most familiar thing to Jeongguk.
He feels unwanted.
"Okay," Taehyung shrugs, hand already on the doorknob. "I'll see you later. I'll miss you!"
Jeongguk flashes Taehyung a smile that feels fake. He goes rushing down the hall and out the door before he can overthink things.
He rides his back home in weather that suddenly feels so much more cold than it had when he initially left home.
Maybe Taehyung would be annoyed that Jeongguk reverts back into the shell he build himself over six years ago, but Jeongguk doesn't want to think about that. He sits far away from his class.
-
When Jeongguk finally turns twelve, it's the first time he's properly seen Taehyung in two months.
Taehyung bursts into him room long after Jeongguk's personal family celebration, panicky, sobbing out that he's a horrible best friend and that he'll buy Jeongguk one hundred Miami mansions if he'll let him sleepover. The sight of Taehyung holding five gifts, wrapped horribly in horribly ugly wrapping paper and covered with three bows each, standing sadly in the corner of Jeongguk's room like he's sure he'll be rejected, is enough to make any of Jeongguk's resentment dissipate.
Taehyung's mouth wobbles and somehow, a tear trails down to the outwardish jut of his bottom lip and drips off onto the floor.
Jeongguk feels his heart shatter into pieces. "Hyung?" He asks.
The older boy grabs the last piece of Jeongguk's heart when he makes a shocked expression at the honorific. "You haven't called me that in," Taehyung breathes in unsteadily, and exhales, "years," with a tearful voice. He takes a hesitant step forward, but steps back.
He's crying more than Jeongguk had seen him cry in years. Possibly since the last time Taehyung wiped out on his bike near the beach, on the side of the parking lot where the cement was covered in loose rocks and sand. The fact that Taehyung's crying because he thinks Jeongguk hates him is absolutely ludicrous.
Because Jeongguk wouldn't be able to hate Taehyung even if Taehyung moves to America and finds a new life with new people. He wouldn't hate Taehyung even if Taehyung decides to one day ignore him forever.
"I haven't?" Jeongguk muses, carefully casual. He wants to bundle Taehyung in his blankets because having him back is the best birthday present he has ever received. "My bad."
"Jeongguk-ah," Taehyung whispers hoarsely. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry you're the most important person ever I missed you-"
Jeongguk interrupts Taehyung with a muffled laugh.
"Tae," He says, awfully amused. He feels horrible until he recognizes the look in Taehyung's eyes as hope. Jeongguk wonders if his look like that, too. "It's okay."
He eyes Taehyung up and down, feeling weirdly glad that Taehyung never lost his love for stupid socks. This time, there are spaceships and hearts drawn all over them in yellow colors. "But are you okay?"
Taehyung shakes his head, then nods his head. "I just... really want to hang out with you." He chews his bottom lip, leaning back against the wall. "School is fun but you're better and I haven't been in touch lately. It's your birthday. I was going to wait until tomorrow to come and beg for forgiveness but..." Taehyung had moved so that he was staring at the ground during his spiel, and he looks at Jeongguk now. The effect his long lashes have on Jeongguk is ridiculous. "It felt like the right time."
"The right time could have been months ago," Jeongguk points out before he can think it through. Petty, childish. Selfish, indeed. He cringes.
Taehyung stiffens. "I can leave. Now. If you want. You can even have the presents!"
Jeongguk stands from his desk chair, frantically shaking his head. "No! I didn't mean that, Tae. I don't even need the presents, I-I," Jeongguk moves so that he's in front of Taehyung, only focuses on the fact that Taehyung is much taller than before for a second, and continues, "missed you too. A lot. You should stay."
The words are awkward in his mouth, but Taehyung obviously appreciates them. Jeongguk is grateful that Taehyung knows him well enough to understand what sincere means in his language.
It's silent for a few beats.
Taehyung offers Jeongguk the presents.
Jeongguk offers to watch a movie.
They watch The Fox and The Hound. Taehyung cries into an empty bowl of popcorn.
Five minutes before his birthday ends, Jeongguk opens the presents. Taehyung watches with sparkles in his eyes and Jeongguk is reminded of a time when he thought Taehyung was magic.
Four minutes before his birthday ends, Taehyung helps him open the last gift.
Three minutes before his birthday ends, Jeongguk thanks Taehyung for the cheap wristwatch, the two small bags of gummy candies, the strawberry and vanilla swirl pocky, and the off-brand white shirt.
Two minutes before his birthday ends, Jeongguk quietly observes Taehyung as they eat pocky and share the last coca cola from the fridge downstairs.
One minute before his birthday ends, Jeongguk feels a wave as strong as the ones that arise during rainstorms rush into his chest.
Taehyung laughs at something on the screen; a nameless cartoon about a boy with an arrow on his head.
Somewhere in the back of his boyish mind, Jeongguk knows he’ll never love anyone as much as he loves Kim Taehyung.
Five minutes after his birthday ends, Taehyung must feel him staring because he finally acknowledges Jeongguk, head tilted as he asks if something is on his face.
"Nope. Nothing."
Jeongguk blushes.
-
Jeongguk notices.
He's thirteen. He can't help it. A week ago, his mom sat him down and gave him 'the talk' about 'the birds and the bees', promising to disown him if he even thought about getting his knees dirty before he was eighteen. Jeongguk had promised her with widened eyes and a flushy face that, yes, he won't do anything before he's eighteen, mom, that's five years away. Though at the time, he had been guilty of feeling woe in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Taehyung being only three years away from that set time.
And then, like a thermostat being set to a higher degree, Jeongguk had become hyper aware of Taehyung. It only worsens because they attend the same school and Jeongguk sees him everywhere.
Everywhere.
Taehyung's bangs that are getting too long, Taehyung's cute ponytail when he walks by the field while Taehyung has gym class on his way to war history, Taehyung's stupid little socks and Taehyung's wonderful smile and Taehyung's inexplicable vibe that seems to hold onto Jeongguk's after so much time together.
And what stumps Jeongguk is that Taehyung might even notice him back.
He tries to stop himself from thinking so. There's no use in hope that was lost the minute Jeongguk realized he like-liked Taehyung years ago, and having thoughts altered by having faces and smiles sent his way even when they're barely in the same vicinity as each other won't make him any happier.
"Hey, Gukkie," Taehyung says, wearing a sweater two sizes too big and jeans and boots. He looks really nice. Puberty is doing him well.
Jeongguk prides himself on knowing Taehyung better than he knows himself.
"Why didn't you just let yourself in?" Jeongguk returns rather than greeting back, confused.
The older boy is leaning smoothly against the threshold to Jeongguk's front door, autumn wind blowing at his hair. He waggles his eyebrows. "We're going to get food. And then go to the beach. So put on your ugliest shoes on."
Jeongguk shrugs.
"You're paying, hyung."
"It brings me joy to pay for your food."
So Jeongguk laces up his converse and follows Taehyung out the door, yelling to his mom that he'll be back. She yells something he can't hear and Jeongguk closes the door.
He has long accepted the fact that he'll follow Taehyung everywhere he wants to go.
It's only his luck that has Taehyung buying him fast food from one of the chain restaurants by the beach.
They eat and talk, walking down to one of the many sidewalks leading down to the sand. Taehyung's in the middle of a very entertaining story involving Jimin and Yoongi and a bottle of whiskey (to which Jeongguk gasps) when he drops the chicken out of his chicken burger. The result is a dramatically mopey Taehyung.
Jeongguk pities him so much that he offers up his own to Taehyung, claiming lack of appetite.
And while Taehyung is devouring Jeongguk's food, he offers Jeongguk an eye smile.
When they drop their bikes off a short distance from the sidewalk and step onto the sand, Taehyung stands close enough for their hands to brush. Jeongguk feels the hair at the nape of his neck stand up in response, but before he can brush his hand against Taehyung's again to get that little spark of electricity, Taehyung is raising his arms in the air and running off down the beach.
"Don't be a bore!" He calls to Jeongguk, getting into a stance Jeongguk is familiar with.
A race.
"I won't," Jeongguk promises, and takes off down the beach with Taehyung close behind.
Taehyung collapses some time later. Jeongguk takes a seat beside his prone body.
"I'm dying," Taehyung says.
"You say that everytime you sweat." Jeongguk rolls his eyes.
"That's because I die everytime I sweat, Jeonggukkie. This time I mean it." He groans, lifting himself up so that he's sitting directly in front of Jeongguk.
The wind blows harder at the beach. And Taehyung, sitting between Jeongguk and the water, looks like something out of a music video. His hair flies into the air, blowing away from his face, displaying every curve and dip of his face perfectly. Jeongguk notes with mild interest that Taehyung's thick eyebrows make his eyes look thinner by comparison, giving them a sharp edge.
Taehyung's lips take on an interested tilt, defining on of his cheeks lightly. "What are you staring at?"
"Nothing," Jeongguk answers.
There's a smear of sand on Taehyung's cheek.
"You're messy," He observes, reaching a hand forward to thumb off the dirt. When he pulls his thumb back, Jeongguk realizes he leaned much closer than he anticipated.
Instead of the beating of his heart nearly bumping his ears off his head, Jeongguk gets the wind intensified by one thousand.
"You know what?" Taehyung asks.
"What?"
Jeongguk's voice is small. He's surprised Taehyung can hear him at all.
Taehyung does. Either that, or he reads Jeongguk’s lips. Because he takes in one deep breath and says what Jeongguk didn’t know he was waiting for.
"I really love you."
-
Two months before Jeongguk turns fourteen, he's already well familiarized with what it feels like to hold Taehyung's hand when they brush together one time too many.
The plan is to visit Taehyung for the evening, but Jeonghyun complains too loudly that Jeongguk doesn't hang out with him anymore.
"Why don't you ride to the store with me?" Jeonghyun proposes, nearly falling over the back of his couch when he pulls Jeongguk into a playful headlock. "I'm your real hyung, anyway. You can buy your TaeTae some snacks."
"I don't even call him TaeTae," Jeongguk grumbles.
His brother offers to buy, so Jeongguk agrees to go. Taehyung would want to eat junk when he gets there later; might as well cross that bridge now and save himself the grief of walking to the convenience store near Taehyung's when they could simply sit in his room and play video games. He sends Taehyung a quick text message that he’ll be late.
Taehyung sends a crying face back but tells Jeongguk to buy him something good.
The ride to the store is uneventful. Jeonghyun asks him questions about school and Jeongguk replies in an annoyed tone that school works seems to be getting more difficult along with his own personal life. Jeonghyun is eighteen, and he tells Jeongguk to deal with it. Unsympathetic. Jeongguk scowls.
He purchases four drinks, cream soda and red cola, as well as a big bag of salted popcorn. Jeonghyun is faster, waiting outside and unlocking their bikes, unhelpfully lying Jeongguk's ugly old bike on the ground and riding away when Jeongguk exits the store.
"You know the rules," Jeonghyun sings loudly from ahead, swerving around random civilians. "Last one home owes the other whatever they want!"
It's an old game, but Jeongguk has quite the competitive streak. He shouts at Jeonghyun that it's on and cycles after him, plastic bag full of food hanging on the handlebar, irritatingly bumping into his knee with every pedal.
His older brother is (give or take) ten meters in front of him when they approach a four-way, surprisingly unattended. Busan wasn't as fast-paced during the workhours in summer. Seoul and Jeju were popular -- Seoul for the nightlife and Jeju for the island life.
Jeonghyun rides across the street swiftly, drifting to a stop with a shit-eating grin on his face. Jeongguk doesn't stop to think about why Jeonghyun stopped in the first place.
“Hyung, stop," Jeongguk growls, following closely after. The wheels squeak when he pedals too fast, high squeals hitting at the edges of his heels when he lifts himself onto his feet and pedals as hard as possible, focused solely on making sure his older brother doesn’t leave him to too far behind because he wants money from Jeongguk.
Perhaps he’d followed too closely. From where he’s barely swerving onto the street off of the sidewalk, he sees his brother, waving frantically and yelling at him to “fucking stop, Jeongguk!”, Jeongguk barely has time to react before he’s hit by a vehicle.
The impact is powerful enough for him to be robbed of the ability to groan or cry or scream.
At his age, Jeongguk doesn’t look left nor right. He doesn’t raise his head to acknowledge his older brother shouting at him because he was too slow. It was too late.
Jeongguk isn’t punctual. He’s late for school, he’s late for the times Taehyung sets for them to meet up, he’s late for appointments his mom sets for them. That’s precisely what does him in.
Precisely.
Jeongguk hears blurry sounds through his blurry mind.
The sounds could be anything, he thinks hazily, and he tries to scrunch his face the way he always does when he’s trying to focus but finds that he cannot. Instead, Jeongguk stews in noises. They’re horribly unpleasant. They sound like crying and wailing and sirens and a lot like the sounds he finds in movies that Taehyung makes him watch with him on Sunday nights.
(Taehyung constantly soaks Jeongguk’s shoulder with tears by the end of their movie nights. It never fails to happen, especially with those angsty romance movies he pops into Jeongguk’s Playstation 3. Jeongguk finds he doesn’t mind as much as he says he does.)
Jeongguk feels his body being moved.
And then, like a chill of cold air; like walking down the beach in autumn with only a shirt against breezes; like a drop of rainwater running down the nape of his neck when he doesn’t lift his hoodie against spring rainfalls;
Jeongguk discovers what it’s like to feel nothing at all.
Nothing is not heavy. Nothing is not light.
Nothing is like being in a dream. It feels like it's only him and his mind.
-
Jeongguk is asleep for a long time.
He supposes he might be alive if he feels emotions so intensely and experiences multiple dream-like visions of scenarios. They're all memories. Most predominant are memories of him and Taehyung; having a mundane dinner with Taehyung's family or Jeongguk's family, walking down the street, putting a bandaid on Taehyung's knee. But then there are the other memories. Some of Jeongguk's good grades, some of the times Jeongguk's mother calls him bright and talented and beautiful, and one that glares into his peripherals like being followed by a car with their brights on; being on his bike one moment and being on the ground the next.
He remembers these things. He's conscious. Jeongguk isn't a strong believer in god, and he has a guess that even if heaven is real, it wouldn't be so cruel as to have him relive everything that ever made an impact on his life.
One thing that worries Jeongguk is that he doesn't wake up. There's no stir in his gut where he should be getting hungry. There's no alarm clock and nothing brushing against his fingers.
So how could he be alive?
Jeongguk figures it out one day.
One day, he thinks hard about waking up. So he does.
He feels a great amount of pressure in his mind and Jeongguk expects to wake up to a white ceiling, but instead he wakes up to Taehyung's bedroom.
Jeongguk has half a second to think what a place to recuperate before he finally discovers that he's not in bed, but standing in the middle of the floor. On Taehyung's bed is a lump, snoring lightly exactly the way Taehyung did, breath catching and exhaling a light moan every now and then.
Five minutes pass as Jeongguk's thoughts rush through his mind.
And he's about to fall into a panic, maybe dig a hole in the ground and stay there until he feels sane again, but Taehyung is waking up and Jeongguk feels something hollow pang loudly in his chest. It somehow feels like he hasn't seen his boy in lifetimes and when Taehyung pokes his head out from the mountains of blankets and pillows, dried drool and tears on his face, Jeongguk still thinks he's beautiful.
He expects Taehyung to see him and brighten, because he seems as dim as dawn, but Taehyung scans his room daftly and completely overlooks Jeongguk. The older boy smacks his lips. Jeongguk can tell with a glance that Taehyung is still half asleep.
Taking a step towards Taehyung is a task. It feels like he's glued to the floor, and he only gets close enough to observe what Taehyung is typing on his phone when he's three footfalls closer. Taehyung uses one finger to type.
The top of his screen says 'jeonggukkie <3' and what Taehyung's message reads is,
good morning or afternoon or evening idk hi gukkie <3
What Taehyung receives is a message that says,
Phone not in service.
Jeongguk can't concentrate his thoughts enough to understand what that means. He's too preoccupied with the breathless little "oh" that falls from Taehyung's mouth.
The younger boy watches, blank-faced, as Taehyung pushes his phone to the floor with a crack and buries his face in his pillow.
Jeongguk learns he doesn't have much of an inner clock. He watches Taehyung for five mintues, maybe two hours--however long it takes for Taehyung's breathing to even out and for the sun to lighten the room. Jeongguk startles when Taehyung's alarm goes off at seven o'clock.
Watching Taehyung get up borders into territory Jeongguk would rather not cross, so he wanders over to the window to watch snow fall.
Snow.
It's winter. The last time Jeongguk was awake was in July.
He doesn't quite know how he feels, but anger seems like a simple emotion to let stain his spirit. Jeongguk could have had so much. Jeongguk could be walking Taehyung to the high school.
Taehyung comes back into his room to get dressed. Jeongguk doesn't watch. He feels prickles in his neck.
When Taehyung concludes that he has to leave now or be late for school, he curses and books it out the door. Jeongguk sees him races down the sidewalk and out of sight.
He sees nothing after Taehyung disappears from his vicinity. It feels like a metaphor for his existence.
-
Jeongguk decides to stay by Taehyung.
He rations that it's relaxing.
But the truth is that Jeongguk needs to know Taehyung. It could be masochism. It could also be that he wants to check up on Taehyung's well-being.
It could be that he wants to know if Taehyung is truly devastated or if he'll move on quickly.
A horrible thing to wonder, really. Jeongguk knows that Taehyung isn't okay. A small, selfish part of him is mildly offended that Taehyung acts like something big didn't happen--an even smaller, more childish part of him finds a bit of pride in Taehyung's empty eyes. Jeongguk always pushes those thoughts back into the crevises of his mind.
It's December when Taehyung begins to smile regularly again. He turns sixteen, and when his mom gives him a video game and five packs of gum and news of his auntie's pregnancy, Taehyung smiles like he means it. Jeongguk feels like if he were able to feel physically, he would be smiling too.
As it is, Jeongguk only feels contented.
Taehyung's smile was like that. Showing all his teeth, straight and perfect, eyes scrunching up attractively-
Taehyung smile was what made Jeongguk feel glad even if he's dead and afraid of one day never being able to see again. He loves Taehyung so much. He loves Taehyung so much that if Taehyung ever stopped loving him, maybe Jeongguk would go blind or turn to oblivion.
It must be a sick twist of fate that made him able to love Taehyung enough to stay on this earth, because he can't even touch Taehyung like ghosts can do to their romantic counterparts in the movies. He tries once, about five weeks after he dies, but he feels too much like an intruder and Taehyung's bronzed skin raises with goosebumps when he brushes his fingers over the older boy's arm.
It wasn't worth it to give Taehyung a chill. Jeongguk didn't even feel the warmth of Taehyung when he tried. Jeongguk didn't feel anything except bitterness.
"Can I name your baby?" Taehyung asks the next time he sees his auntie.
The woman smiles. Taehyung looks like her a lot, Jeongguk observes, standing between the two of them.
"Only if it's a good name. Not something weird like you suggested last time." She winks.
"Spock wasn't that bad."
She pinches Taehyung's cheek. "I want a Korean name this time."
"Of course." Taehyung looks pensive for a moment. "Jeong..."
Jeongguk wonders if he might have a heart after-all, because something squeezes. Taehyung's aunt takes on a worried expression.
"Jeonghan," He offers.
It's saving face.
She smiles softly, looking relieved. "I like that. I'll consider it, honey."
Jeongguk finds that he's stuck between wanting Taehyung to move on and wanting Taehyung to want him back.
-
Taehyung stays in bed all day when Jeongguk turns fifteen. They're both quiet for a long time, and Jeongguk takes that time to count the stars on the ceiling. There's only 40 of them.
"Love you," Jeongguk mumbles. He's sitting at the edge of the mattress. It doesn't dip.
Five hours later, drifting into sleep, Taehyung whispers it back.
It's the closest thing to communication they've had in over a year.
-
Taehyung knows how to move on.
Jeongguk should know this. He should know, because when Taehyung lost his dog, he only cried for a few days and wrote a letter to Santa asking for a new puppy--he got that puppy on Christmas. When Taehyung learned he couldn't become a pilot because he was color-blind, he decided he wanted to be something else.
("Maybe a psychiatrist or a singer," Taehyung shrugs, looking mildly bummed out.
"Wide-range," Jeongguk giggles.
"I have wide talents," Taehyung winks.)
Somewhere around a year and a half after Jeongguk dies, Taehyung meets a boy named Jung Hoseok who introduces himself as Hobi. They meet because Jimin joins a dance crew, something esteemed and well-known around Busan, and he introduces the two of them like he thinks they'll get along very well.
Jeongguk had been previously weirded out by the fact that the oversized, room-spanning mirrors didn't reflect him. Now he's more interested in the way this Hobi person's smile goes from friendly and radiant to flirty and interested--not that Jeongguk blames him; Taehyung is a beauty on standards even idols couldn't reach. Taehyung seems to sense it too, if the way his back straightens and hand goes to fix his fringe are anything to go by.
"Taehyung," He says.
The ghost can't believe the amount of joy he feels when he remembers that Taehyung introduced himself without his family name. Then he thinks that it doesn't matter that Taehyung introduced himself as "Kim Taehyung!" when he was five because, well...it just doesn't.
"Are you from around here?" Hoseok questions. He cocks a hip and settles a hand on his hip, still giving that interested little smirk.
Jeongguk kind of wants to give him an interested little punch in the sternum. He's unbelievably jealous.
Taehyung nods cutely. It's so cute. He doesn't even have to try to be cute. He doesn't blame Hoseok for having interest.
"My whole life."
"Really?" Hoseok grins brightly, like he just thought of something amazing. "I can't believe I haven't seen you around before. Guess I haven't been lucky until now."
Taehyung smiles that fucking smile Jeongguk has loved for years. "You're smooth," He acknowledges.
And Hoseok does something Jeongguk always wished he could do. He could have done it, if Jeongguk were older and done with puberty and still alive. He asks Taehyung if he's smooth enough for a date.
Jeongguk hasn't been on a date with Taehyung. At least, not officially. He thinks their movie nights and walks to get junk food were enough.
He thought, actually.
Taehyung accepts.
-
Taehyung knows how to hold hearts.
He sees this in the way Taehyung holds his. There’s no hummingbird, but there’s a warmth that spreads through his existence when Taehyung wakes up in the morning and goes through his routine perfectly. When he graduates, Jeongguk cheers along with the rest of the crowd even though it’s futile. His heart sings even when Jeongguk can’t. His heart is Taehyung’s even when it’s covered with dirt and dead, dead, dead.
Jeongguk can see the way Taehyung holds hearts. He holds his mother’s and new nephew’s. He holds Hoseok’s, slowly taking pieces and putting them together at the end of their dates. Hoseok doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll fall in love with Taehyung.
He’ll fall in love with Taehyung but Jeongguk hopes to hell that Taehyung won’t fall in love back.
“Goodnight,” Hoseok says, biting his lip invitingly. A good tactic.
Jeongguk rolls his eyes.
Taehyung doesn’t kiss Hoseok goodnight. He never does.
That could be considered Jeongguk’s consolation prize.
-
They get closer.
But then further.
Jeongguk wakes up often. He thinks he has it down to an art form, waking up when Taehyung does the most interesting things.
Recently, the theory was that he only woke up and saw Taehyung whenever he was thought of deeply, but judging by the amount of times he sees Taehyung and Hoseok together, he supposes that he’s wrong.
He hardly hears his name uttered by Taehyung. Jeongguk doesn’t blame him. It’s just that he says Taehyung’s name constantly and he tells Taehyung his thoughts, it’s just that he sees Taehyung do things he should be doing with Jeongguk, and Jeongguk is killing himself (again) by thinking he’s off worse than Taehyung.
On the day Jeongguk turns sixteen, Taehyung opens his front door to Hoseok after a long day of staring at nothing in particular. Actually, he’d been staring at Jeongguk. And Jeongguk had stared back, telling Taehyung he should go to Seoul or he should move on or he should see Jeongguk once, just once, before the day he finally doesn’t wake up again. So when Taehyung opens the door, a light switch seems to turn on in his head, and he makes a face like he’s ashamed .
Hoseok smiles hesitantly, stepping through the threshold and into Taehyung’s space. “Can I come in?”
This is our day , Jeongguk thinks. Taehyung seems to think so, too, because his spine tightens and he looks ready to say no.
But he says, “Yeah, okay. Come up to my room.”
Jeongguk wishes he were more than a ghost in order to push Hoseok out of the house and beg Taehyung to not kiss someone on his birthday because even Jeongguk never got to kiss Taehyung.
He trails a bit behind them as they trudge up the stairs.
Hoseok tells Taehyung about his day, speaking in extremely deep detail concerning a girl and a squirrel he saw at the park. When it’s Taehyung’s turn, Taehyung says something about being really tired and stressed about his future. Jeongguk watches moodily from the wall.
“Future, huh?” Hoseok mumbles, eyes fixed on Taehyung’s jawline. Jeongguk understands. “You’ll have a good one. ‘Cause you’re a good one.”
Then he furrows his thin brows. “Why don’t you tell me about your past, Tae?”
Tae.
Jeongguk watches in fascination as Hoseok realizes what he said might have pulled a trigger. Taehyung clenches his fists hard. He shifts closer, searching for damage control, doing everything Jeongguk can’t do. When Hoseok takes in the guarded expression on Taehyung’s face and only lets his soften, Jeongguk thinks that maybe this is it- maybe this is where Taehyung will learn to let go, because this sunshine man is wanting to hold his hand and listen to his woes- maybe Jeongguk wants that to happen. Maybe.
“Do you… not want to talk about it?” Hoseok ventures, reaching forward to put a hand on Taehyung’s knee.
Taehyung bites his lip and Jeongguk wonders if he’s not his anymore the moment he opens his mouth and shakily says, “I- sure. Sure.” He goes quiet, only continuing when Hoseok says he’s listening.
“I had a boy.”
Jeongguk wonders if he’s not Taehyung’s anymore because since meeting Hoseok, Taehyung hadn’t mentioned his name once. Even now. Even when Taehyung looks ready to cry at the thought of him.
Could have been me, could have been me, could have been me-
“A boy?” Hoseok asks, tapping his finger against Taehyung’s blanket.. Jeongguk can tell he’s trying to act like he’s not nervous, but there’s a certain change in Hoseok’s disposition; the leg swung over his other begins bouncing, and he has a twitch to his brow when he unconsciously tilts his head towards Taehyung. Jeongguk can see why Taehyung’s hands always twitch when they’re close to Hoseok’s. He’s pretty. “Who was your boy, Taehyung-ah?”
Jeongguk’s sitting on the ground between them. He feels like sinking into the ground when Taehyung only says, “He was somebody really important to me. Really, really important. Do you know how it feels to look at a person and think you’ll like them even if they’re too good for you--even if they’re covered in, like, poop or something?”
The older boy gives Taehyung a look that suggests he’s that person. “Yeah, I do.”
“He was that person.” Taehyung is absolutely talking about Jeongguk. He feels like an intruder. “And that’s why, Hoseok-hyung, why I can’t. I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Is this about Jeongguk?”
Shit . Jeongguk groans, covering his eyes. Taehyung deserves Hoseok. Taehyung deserves sunshine boy, why won’t he move on, he’s supposed to move on?
“I can’t date you,” Taehyung blurts. He squeezes his eyes shut and a tear leaks through.
His baby. Taehyung. Jeongguk wants so desperately to be alive.
“Oh,” Hoseok says. He stays silent for a few seconds.
Jeongguk thinks he’s going to ask if Taehyung wants to talk about it, to work through it, but Hoseok’s face crumples and he makes an excuse to leave, “I have to go practice. Yeah, I just- I’ll call you, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung nods. “Sure.” The word is strained.
“You were supposed to love him,” Jeongguk says. He gets up tiredly and walks to sit next to Taehyung. Not so accidentally, he brushes a hand against Taehyung’s cheek where a tear trails down. “I guess not, though. Hyung...”
Jeongguk watches as Taehyung wipes furiously where he touched him,
“Why don’t you want to be happy?”
-
Taehyung is accepted into university for the spring semester.
Jeongguk wakes up less nowadays, more or less condemned to watching Taehyung study. It’s the only thing Taehyung does. One glance always tells him that Taehyung is a psych. major and he’s going to be great at his job, considering the amount of studying he does. Jeongguk wants his boy to go out and talk to new people. Jeongguk wants his boy to be happy.
Studying doesn’t make people happy. Jeongguk has firsthand experience leftover from when he was in his last year of middle school, struggling through English words (he wasn’t going to use English in the future, so why ?) and school in general.
But he supposes that Taehyung ignoring his roommate and eating ramen everyday is worth the wave of satisfaction, validation, that crosses Taehyung’s eyes when he gets an A+ on an analyses of characters.
Jeongguk thought that assignment was best. The only thing Taehyung had to do was sit down and watch cute movies, take notes, and look up a bunch of terms.
Taehyung gets a job, too. Jeongguk watches proudly as a weight seems to shift off Taehyung’s shoulders as he buttons up a black shirt and goes out to ask people for their orders.
It’s sort of crazy to watch Taehyung grow. His voice deepens and his hair turns colors Jeongguk didn’t know existed. He thinks Taehyung is twenty when he loses his virginity, and it’s really not that big of a deal. He goes through the motions the way Jeongguk knew he would, smiling and laughing but never truly letting anyone in. Jeongguk thinks it’s his fault that Taehyung isn’t married with a family already.
Taehyung would have been the type of person to get married at eighteen just so he’d have someone to go on an adventure with. Taehyung would have been the type of person to become a pilot even if his colors hardly match up and he was the most impatient person Jeongguk knew.
“Are you seeing anyone?” A pretty lady asks once, when Taehyung goes out with Yoongi and Jimin.
“Yeah,” Taehyung replies, voice flat.
Jeongguk finds that it’s hard to be mad at Taehyung for not wanting a romance because he’s still hung up on a love that was five years too old to be true.
When Taehyung walks home at night, he leaves one hand out in the open and stuffs the other in his pocket. Jeongguk wonders how he’d look if he were holding it.
Would he be taller than Taehyung? Would he have a strong jawline, would he kiss Taehyung, would he treat him the way he wants to treat him now? Would Taehyung still be in Busan?
He has no answers to any of his questions. The frustration simmers below his surface until the day he wakes up to find that Taehyung isn’t as sad anymore.
He has an internship and Jeongguk is so proud, so contented, so ready to stop watching Taehyung fall away from being that sixteen-year-old he loved so much he wanted to slowly burn until he was ash and Taehyung could be the ocean he would blow into, Jeongguk passes out immediately afterward.
But he’s still not truly dead yet.
He still has an image burned into his mind.
It’s of Taehyung, measuring his hand with Jeongguk’s, smiling because his is bigger.
Jeongguk had originally thought only big moments would define his life, that coming third in his class was a feat like no other, that turning ten was a turning corner, that being eight and talking in front of his class about the insides of an insect would turn him into who he would be in the future, but what he got was snapshots of Taehyung. Jeongguk wasn’t a romantic until he discovered grass didn’t fracture under his feet.
Jeongguk thinks Taehyung is happy.
Or something like that.
Jeongguk thinks Taehyung will be okay, and therefore his sight leaves him.
-
Jeongguk only wakes up one more time.
He wakes up, once again expecting Taehyung. He's not disappointed.
A few things have changed (even if Jeongguk doesn't) and he finds that he still loves Taehyung, still loves all his veins and strands of hair, because even if Taehyung changes there's always going to be something he has that Jeongguk will love.
Taehyung, a lover of dramatics, is sitting on a grassy hill. The sun is setting and the beams of light give his skin a glow that Jeongguk recalls seeing clearly in the summer. He stares into the sunset like it’ll give him answers.
He's not a kid anymore. Taehyung looks like he's in his twenties, nearing the later years.
His eyes have a sparkle in them. That's one thing that hasn't changed, Jeongguk observes, moving to sit next to Taehyung. "Hello," He says, wondering if Taehyung might hear him finally, finally. Moments pass and Taehyung doesn't notice. Jeongguk laughs self-deprecatingly.
"You're still perfect," He says, and then again at a louder volume. "You're everything, hyung."
Taehyung moves, and for a scary moment, Jeongguk thinks he might have heard him.
No, Jeongguk realizes.
Instead, Taehyung raises a dandelion into the air. It's a small one. Half of it is already blown off from wind.
"I wish," Taehyung starts, voice deeper than it was when he was eighteen, "that I'll see him. Just this once. You'll give me that much, won't you, fluffy flower?"
“Yes,” Jeongguk says.
He puckers his lips and blows the seeds into the air. Like magic, they float until they’re into the sky.
Taehyung sits for a long time.
“I knew it.” The words are harsh, bitter. He stands up and dusts off his blue jeans.
Jeongguk stands too. “I love you,” He says. “I love you, Tae.”
Taehyung begins walking away.
It’s like a scene out of a movie, but he still can’t see Jeongguk and he won’t ever. Ever. Not ever.
“Taehyung, please,” Jeongguk whispers. Weirdly enough, he’s too nervous to speak any louder. When he tries to walk, his feet stay stuck to the ground. “Taehyung?”
Taehyung keeps walking.
“Taehyung ? Are you happy?”
-
Taehyung realizes he’s crushed the bald dandelion at the same time he realizes it’s two days before Jeongguk turns twenty-four.
He drops the stem and stops walking.
A chill runs up his spine.
He turns around and looks at where he was sitting because the feeling reminds him of the way he used to feel when Jeongguk looked at him. Had his wish come true?
Minutes pass and Taehyung knows that dandelions don’t grant any wishes.
(He ignores that Jeongguk granted his wish when they first met. It doesn’t matter.
Except that it does. Taehyung thinks about it every day and the blow never lessens, the love doesn’t leave, and he wishes he could go back in time and wish for Jeongguk to not die and never leave him alone.)
He turns back around.
He’ll wish again later.