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When Jeon Jeongguk set off from the library that evening, he had expected a breezy walk, a sleepy bus ride, and a hot shower before collapsing in the restful comfort of his dorm room, clean and relaxed.
What he did not expect was to end up sitting on the curb, under a lamppost, beside an honest-to-god bright orange Mercedes for the good part of a very frustrating two hours, all the while fighting the overwhelming urge to smash its windows or at least scratch obscenities into its obnoxious coat of paint. Seriously, who in their right mind would get a car in orange? It was like driving around in a kumquat all day. Jeongguk was beginning to decide that he really hated kumquats.
But, then again, nobody in their right mind would have parked their car so haphazardly and run off so fast that they could spare not even a single glance backwards - when slamming the door, when hitting the lock button on the keys, when pushing past the poor, unlucky, and now increasingly furious college kid on the curb, to sprint off to wherever-the-hell they were rushing so fast to - to notice that the aforementioned college kid’s bag strap was now caught in the shut and locked car door. Tragically and irredeemably stuck.
Jeongguk groaned, leaning unabashedly against the side of the car. It was getting late, and he was tired and sweaty and extremely not okay with being stuck for two whole fucking hours with the gross orange car. Briefly he considered abandoning his bag, or tearing the strap off with his teeth, or something else equally self-damaging and barbaric. But he shot down the ideas as soon as they formed - Jeongguk needed that bag and its very academically-critical contents (such as his books, his homework, and maybe his entire fucking laptop). And he couldn’t break a bag strap with his teeth, no matter how much he was starting to kind of really wish he could.
And, besides, Jeongguk really wanted to meet that sick orange-car-owning bastard - and give him a piece of his mind. As rudely as humanly possible. Maybe with his fists. If he would only just show up already.
Just when Jeongguk was starting to seriously reconsider the teeth idea, a figure appeared in the distance, from the general direction the car-driver had run off towards. Jeongguk stood up quickly, leaving his bag forlornly attached to the closed car door, and squinted at the gradually-growing shape.
As the person got close enough for Jeongguk to recognise him as the same young man who had left the car earlier - with the same messy brown hair and patterned black jacket and hideously wide-cut pants - he felt all the anger he had steadily accumulated flare up with renewed vengeance.
“Hey, you!” Jeongguk yelled, as soon as the object of his hate seemed within earshot. “Took you fucking long enough, you son of a bitch!”
The man paused, seemingly confused, before quickening his pace, just a bit. Jeongguk glared at the infuriatingly slow figure, but did not move an inch until he’d rounded close to the parked car. Then Jeongguk stalked up towards him, ready to unleash his two-hour-long frustrations on the ignorant fucker before him.
“What the fuck were you doing, do you ever look when you park a car?” He yelled again. “I’ve been stuck here for two hours, because some fucker clearly didn’t-”
But then the man had come closer, stepping into the light of the street lamp, and Jeongguk felt his words die in his throat. Because the stranger was looking at him with an expression of complete defeat and exhaustion, looking impossibly small with his shoulders folded inwards and his eyes were so red, and puffy, and there was wetness on his cheeks and eyelashes like he’d just barely stopped crying, and suddenly all the animosity Jeongguk had felt was melting away, giving way to a growing weight of concern in his chest.
“Sorry,” said the stranger, voice shaky. “What did I do?”
Faintly, Jeongguk remembered that the only place close to the carpark they were in, other than the library, was a hospital.
God, he was such an asshole.
“Uh,” said Jeongguk, suddenly at a loss. “Fuck, sorry. It was just - something stupid - the door - I shouldn’t have - shit, are you okay?” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a panicked jumble, and Jeongguk mentally punched himself for being clear as mud and fucking terrible at sounding gentle, praying to every god or deity possibly out there that the man in front of him wouldn’t fall apart.
The stranger blinked at him. “Sorry?”
Jeongguk swallowed. “I, uh,” he stammered, “I asked if you were okay.”
For a moment, the man looked confused, before giving Jeongguk a small smile - tight and fleeting, barely reaching his eyes. “I’m fine. But, seriously, what did I do?” A sudden look of worry flashed over his features. “Did I hit you or something?”
“No,” said Jeongguk quickly, words tripping over each other in his mouth, again. “No, uh. It’s just my bag. Your car. Door - car door. It got, uh, caught. It’s really stupid, and it’s fine, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you, sorry.”
Miraculously, the man seemed to understand enough from Jeongguk’s miserable attempt at a sentence, and glanced towards the car, eyes widening as he noticed the unfamiliar bag still trapped by the closed door, nearly suspended off the curb from its taut strap.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” he exclaimed, hurrying over to unlock the door, fumbling to simultaneously pull it open it and remove Jeongguk’s bag without dropping his car keys. ‘Here. Sorry, shit, I had no idea-”
“It’s fine.” Jeongguk cut in, quickly taking his bag from the other man and slinging it over one shoulder - it was heavy, and the stranger looked like he might crumble at any moment if Jeongguk let him hold it too long.
The man frowned at him, apologetic, and opened his mouth like he was going to say sorry again, but Jeongguk honestly couldn’t be bothered by the stupid bag problem anymore.
Not when the man in front of him, with the red eyes and wet lashes, looked so fragile and so tortured, so close to the brink of breaking. And the only thing Jeongguk could care about at the moment was him.
“Hey,” said Jeongguk, softly, reaching out to place a careful hand on the other’s shoulder. “Seriously, are you okay?”
The stranger just stared at him, again, blinking, and Jeongguk wasn’t sure if it was just the lighting or if the other’s eyes were getting wetter. “Yeah,” he said, voice thin. “I’m fine. It’s just.” He bit at his lip. “My best friend, he had an accident. And his parents are still in Busan so the hospital called me, and I wasn’t even there, I don’t know how it happened. But-” and then his voice cracked, and was swallowed by a sudden sob, and he was rubbing at his eyes as tears started running. And Jeongguk felt like his heart was being twisted out of his chest.
“Shit,” said Jeongguk, rubbing the other’s shoulder, wishing there was more he could do. “I’m sorry. Is he - is he okay?”
The stranger just shook his head. “I don’t know,” he choked out, “they can’t tell. He’s not awake yet. They said it’s not abnormal, but I just-” he gasped, shoulders shaking, “-I don’t know. I don’t know. I should have been there.”
“Hey,” said Jeongguk, as gently as he could, “he’ll pull through, okay? I’m sure he’s a strong guy. He’ll be fine.”
“He almost drowned,” choked the stranger. “How can he be fine?”
And suddenly Jeongguk found himself stepping towards the man, without thinking, wrapping his arms around the trembling figure and pulling him close and tight, carding one hand through his hair and pressing the other solid against the man's shaking back. And it didn’t matter anymore that they didn’t even know each other, or that for the past two hours Jeongguk had been violently cursing the man’s guts. Because at that moment Jeongguk only knew that he had to do something, anything, to make the person in his arms him feel better, and he had never been good with words.
“Hey,” murmured Jeongguk, smoothing his thumb over the other man’s back. “He’ll be fine, okay? You said he’s from Busan, right? We Busan boys can never be drowned. It’ll be fine, alright, it’ll be okay.” And the man didn’t stop crying, but he wrapped his arms around Jeongguk’s back, too, clutching at him as if Jeongguk were his only lifeline, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt, under his bag, desperate and cold.
Jeongguk had no idea how long they stayed like that, him holding the stranger and saying anything soothing he could think of, the other sobbing weakly into the crook of his neck. But after a while, the choking sobs subsided, and the other’s breathing slowed, grip loosened. And then the man was pulling back, wiping at the remaining tears in his eyes, and Jeongguk instinctively brought his hand to the other’s face too, gently brushing away the wetness on his cheek.
“Thanks,” said the stranger, looking at Jeongguk with a strange expression - difficult to read, but at least less pained than before. And then he smiled, far more genuinely than earlier. And Jeongguk found himself feeling strangely warm as he smiled back.
“It’s nothing,” replied Jeongguk, a little dazed, realising with a start just how long the man’s eyelashes were, how good he looked when he was smiling instead of crying his eyes out.
“Do you want a ride home?” The stranger asked suddenly. “It’s late, and it’s my fault you got stuck here.”
“Oh,” said Jeongguk. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”
Suddenly the stranger laughed, just for a quick breathy moment, as if realising something. “By the way,” he said. “It’s a little late for this, but-” the man stepped back a little, extending a hand. “-Hi, I’m Taehyung. What’s your name?”
Jeongguk blinked stupidly, mind blank from the moment he heard the other’s laugh. He willed his tongue to start working again, as he reached out his hand to accept the handshake. “J-Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk. That’s my name.” He swallowed. “Uh, nice to meet you, I guess?”
Taehyung smiled. “Nice to meet you too.”