Chapter Text
the first time yugyeom experiences heartbreak, he’s the fragile age of fifteen. that night he sits in his room, a somber riff of an electric guitar emitting softly from his phone which is strewn far across the room, it's faint light doing no work to illuminate the room.
yugyeom thinks it's dumb. how can someone be heartbroken when they've never loved? when in the first place it wasn't love - it was the way his legs trembled as he watched his only friend turn his back to him mercilessly.
the first friend yugyeom made was at the age five. he was sitting alone in the corner of the daycare, putting together and taking apart legos when a small boy with tan skin came up to him, saying something, yugyeom, to this day, only assumes was his attempt at korean. five year old yugyeom found this endearing and intriguing, and invited the boy to come sit next to him and they shared their toys and legos until yugyeom regretfully had to leave when his mother came to pick him up.
as time progressed, he learned the boy’s name was kumpimook bhuwakul, and he managed to perfect the pronunciation by the age of six, that he came from thailand. yugyeom asked him if he wanted to be his best friend, and kunpimook nodded in glee, linking their pinkies together and promised they’d be friends forever in broken and choppy korean.
kunpimook and yugyeom became inseparable. there was not an untold secret, not a day went by where they didn’t speak. yugyeom, on the quieter side found it harder to make new friends as they got older, so he sat in the sidelines while he watched kunpimook socialize like there was no tomorrow.
the more friends kunpimook made, the less he was called kunpimook and the more he went by “bambam”, because kunpimook’s friends weren’t able to master the art of pronunciation like yugyeom could.
it's the beginning of sophomore year and yugyeom feels like he’s about to fall apart. he hasn't spoken to bambam in weeks, nothing but a few hellos are exchanged between them in the halls, and yugyeom is back to the way he’d been ten years prior. alone with his books in the far corner of the classroom, no tan boy to tell him incoherent korean phrases.
one day yugyeom works up the courage to come up to bambam while he hangs out with his friends, only to be waved off dismissively. he tries his best to never cross paths with the other after that, but the thai boy notices and texts him, saying it's been a while and they need to catch up. yugyeom’s heart nearly flutters.
the excitement is quickly destroyed once he rings the doorbell of bambam’s complex and one of his friends answers, inviting him in. kunpimook smiles at him warmly and pats the spot next to him. but bambam still chats with his friends, completely forgetting yugyeom’s existence. hastily, he excuses himself and nearly leaves the complex until he heard kunpimook call him in the same voice he used to call him in. key word - used.
“where are you going?”
“home.” yugyeom replies sternly, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.
“what the hell? i invited you over to catch up and all you do is leave in the middle of my conversation with my friends?”
“... am i your friend?”
“of course you are, you know you are, yug.”
“then care for me a little bit, won’t you?” his voice cracks slightly and he clears his throat. “it sure as hell doesn't feel like i am anymore. it's as if i’m invisible.”
“yug, you need to learn to stop relying on me! i’m your only friend and do you have any idea how sad that is? it's - it’s like you're a puppy following around their owner! live a little! i’ve made my friends and you should make yours too. it would be better for the both of us that way i don't feel so burdened all the time-”
“you?” he scoffs. “burdened? if you felt so burdened you should have just told me. i would've backed off.” he purses his lips. “you know i would.” he shakes his head when bambam has nothing to say, a dull ache in his chest when the smaller boy turns his back. he follows suit, not letting his tears fall until he’s shut the door behind him.
and now yugyeom sits in the darkness of his room, knees hugged tight to his chest while he scrolls through old photos of them growing up, and as soon as it comes too much to handle, he throws his phone across the room, not caring about it breaking or anything. he cries himself to sleep that night, refusing to go to school the next day.
bambam and yugyeom never speak again. but yugyeom thinks about bambam - check that, kunpimook, everyday. there was no possible way to erase someone who was such a significant part of your life from your memories. they graduate high school and go their separate ways, bambam going back to thailand to pursue his studies.
yugyeom used to love when bambam spoke in thai. he loved it even more when the boy would teach him, and as they graduated he could only imagine how happy the boy was to return back home.
when yugyeom enters his third year of university, he’s assigned a new roommate after living alone his sophomore year, he’s made friends like bambam asked him to, but a framed photo of the two of them still sits on the corner of his desk.
yugyeom is laying on his phone when there's a turning of his doorknob, and he expects it, as he’d been told his roommate was moving in that day. yugyeom glances up as soon as it’s open, smiling softly.
the boy’s features slightly represent bambam’s and yugyeom’s heart clenches at the idea. he spaces out momentarily when he hears a clumsy drop of a duffel bag, and looks up to see his roommate with his picture frame in his hands.
“hey, i don’t want to start off on the wrong note or anything, but that’s really important to me. if you wouldn't touch it i’d appreciate it.”
the boy’s eyes flicker up to meet yugyeom’s as he sets the picture frame back down. “i’m sorry. it…ah. never mind.”
yugyeom smiles softly. “it’s okay, i’m kim yugyeom, by the way.” he extends his hand out, waiting for the other to shake it.
the boy takes his hand in a firm grip, a nervous smile playing his lips. “kunpimook bhuwakul.”
yugyeom let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“i know this is a lot to ask, but… could we perhaps start over?”