Work Text:
Dianthus Caryophyllus
It was a crisp fall day. There was a slight breeze that shifted the dry leaves across the damp ground, just enough of a wind to flip the long bangs out of Jungkook’s eyes as he sat on a metal bench in the middle of his university’s campus. His canvas bag sat next to him, contents secured neatly inside as he closed his eyes, immersed in the music blasting through red earbuds. A buzzing from his right bomber jacket pocket brought him out of his trance. He entered his pin and checked his unread messages.
Yoongi:
Hey Jungkook
Hey
Come on
I know ur seeing this
Jungkook:
what?
Yoongi:
Hobi wants u to come to his party at our apt
Jungkook:
cool
Yoongi:
Tonight @7
u will come right?
Jungkook:
no
Yoongi:
...
You. Are. Coming.
He took a deep breath and sighed. There was no way he was getting out of this one.
Jungkook:
...
fine
Yoongi:
great now he’ll stop bothering me
he says to bring ur whiteboard and markers
Jungkook:
why?
Yoongi:
Not everyone can sign, idiot.
Jungkook:
ugh fine
bye yoongi
Yoongi:
Bye, punk
Three years had passed since Jungkook had transferred schools, and Hoseok and Yoongi had yet to relent on getting him out of his dorm and into society. Even when he’d taken a year off after earning his associate’s degree, they still managed to get him out to parties, clubs, random social gatherings, and worst of all, dates.
Blind dates, to be exact, set up by Hoseok. Yoongi claimed he had nothing to do with them, but they all knew that was a lie.
Despite the numerous dates, none of them turned out to be something more. Lots of them had shown an interest in Jungkook, but he hadn’t. He even tried dating a couple of them consecutively, but it just didn’t work out, no matter how hard he tried.
Something just wasn’t right.
He sighed again and put his phone back in his pocket before standing up, taking his canvas bag as he walked home to get ready for the party, and get some homework done as well.
***
The party was nothing short of Jungkook’s expectations. With neon, flashing lights, a DJ booth and professional DJ, large speakers and tons of booze, it screamed “Hoseok”, especially the large dance floor. Most of the people Jungkook didn’t recognize, most of them from Hoseok’s group of friends. While Hoseok was a social butterfly and knew almost about everyone, Yoongi was more reclusive, only having a couple close friends—Jungkook one of them. It was quite comical how the two were almost complete opposites personality wise, yet had one of the strongest relationships Jungkook had ever seen.
While still deep in thought, someone waved a beer in front of his face.
“Oh, you came. Whiteboard?” Yoongi said.
Jungkook raised the whiteboard in his hand at Yoongi.
“Good, good. I have to go make sure Hoseok doesn’t start doing body shots again or some other crazy shit, so I guess I’ll see you around.”
And with that Yoongi was weaving back through the crowd, disappearing completely due to his short height, leaving Jungkook all alone.
The music was loud, everyone was either dancing, drinking, or yelling over the music. Standing there awkwardly for a couple minutes, swaying a bit to the music and waving at the few (two) people he knew, Jungkook made his way to a corner of the kitchen next to the small balcony, sitting down with his markers and whiteboard and started to doodle.
Jungkook wasn’t so sure how much time had passed as he sat in his little corner, being as antisocial as possible. Suddenly someone tapped on the top of his board, clearing their throat.
“Hey, Jungkook right? Can I talk to you?”
Looking up, Jungkook felt his heart drop into his feet.
Taehyung was standing in front of him, hair now a light, flowery purple that hung into his eyes as he bent over to look at Jungkook.
For a few seconds while ignoring his feelings, he just stared at Taehyung, who was biting his lip in nervousness.
“Wait, not talk, uh, more like discuss? Wait not like that either...” He said, flustered. “Just... come with me.”
Taehyung extended a hand to Jungkook and pulled him up, leading him out of the kitchen and into the guest room where they sat down on the spare bed.
Though his face is blank, on the inside Jungkook is having a mental breakdown.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
I haven’t seen this guy in three years and now suddenly he decides to talk to me?
Does he like me?
Do I like him?
What the fuck is this?!
“So...” Taehyung breaks the silence, awkwardly coughing into his fist.
It falls silent again.
“Look, I’m sorry. Like, extremely very sorry.”
Jungkook didn’t know why he was apologizing; Taehyung had done nothing wrong.
Taehyung spoke again. “Who are you, Jeon Jungkook?”
This startled him.
“Uh, can you not speak?”
Jungkook shook his head from left to right.
“Then...”
He raised the whiteboard and marker, before realizing all the doodles on it. Embarrassed, Jungkook quickly erased all the drawings and started writing out his answer.
It went on like that for a while, Taehyung asking Jungkook questions while he wrote down his answers in black ink on the tattered board. Finally, the million-dollar question came.
“What happened? You know, with me and you and the flowers and... yeah...”
This time, Jungkook was writing paragraphs instead of sentences, erasing paragraphs to write more, explaining everything that had happened his first year of college to Taehyung. It felt nice to finally get it off his chest, and Taehyung deserved to know.
However, once it gets to him becoming mute, they can both tell it’s getting harder to keep on going with the story, the air tense with regret and sorrow. But Jungkook wants, no needs to pull through this and just tell everything.
Finally, he reaches the end of the story, hand cramping and fingers all inked black (somehow).
It is silent again, though this time there is much more tension.
“So,” Taehyung starts, “have you found someone yet?”
Jungkook pauses, his mind over-analyzing the simple question. Finally, he shakes his head no. He can tell the simple answer makes Taehyung feel guilty, he can see Taehyung pitying Jungkook, who is now permanently handicapped because of him, not to mention he is alone. That thought alone crushes Jungkook. He doesn't want anyone to pity him, to feel guilty over what has happened. Just as Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, the door creaks open.
“Tae? Are you in here—oh there you are. I was looking for you.” Says the intruder.
“Minjae,” Taehyung says as he smiles, standing up and walking over to the boy, placing a hand on the back of Minjae’s neck. “Hey, I’ll be out in a few, okay?”
Minjae nods and gives Taehyung a small peck underneath his jawline before closing the door behind him.
Meanwhile, Jungkook has no idea what to do. He just saw Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, his crush for a year and a half (and possibly still), get kissed by another guy that wasn’t him. It’s like a barbell in his chest had just dropped down to the ground at his feet. So he sits there, frozen and completely lost as to what he should do.
He had just spent three years, three years trying to get over Taehyung, trying to get him out of his head, and just when things were turning out okay and he was moving on, this happens.
Taehyung turns back, also uncomfortable as he obviously did not plan for that to happen. The lilac-haired boy opens his mouth to speak before quickly shutting it again.
“I, um, I’ve got to go. It was really nice getting to know you Jungkook... I’ll message you sometime...”
And with that Taehyung burst out of the door.
Jungkook slipped off the bed and onto the floor, putting his head on his knees.
He stayed like that for god knows how long, until Yoongi finds him.
“Hey Kook, the party’s over.”
Jungkook nods, but doesn’t move an inch.
Yoongi gets him, Yoongi understands. He closes the door behind him as Jungkook continues to simply exist.
He doesn’t remember getting up from the floor of Yoongi and Hoseok’s guest room, or the drive to his apartment. The only thing he does is finding the motivation to make it into his bed before passing out completely.
That morning he finds a vase of red carnations sitting on his kitchen counter.
Dianthus caryophyllus
Caryophyllaceae family
“Red carnation”
Symbolic meaning: heartache