How to Disappear Completely

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/22285384.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Age
Swap, Hurt/Comfort, Gaming, Isolation, Panic Attacks, Jeon Jungkook is
Bad at Feelings, Kim Taehyung | V is a Sweetheart, Art Student Kim
Taehyung | V, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Recreational Drug Use,
Strangers to Lovers, Top Jeon Jungkook, Bottom Kim Taehyung | V,
Angst, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Collections: the best, the beginning of my endings, ✨ f a v s ✨, 4lifers, My reason for
life, Hurt/comfort fics for the soul
Stats: Published: 2020-01-25 Completed: 2021-01-08 Words: 71,427 Chapters:
10/10
 How to Disappear Completely
by zerorequiem

Summary

Jeongguk hasn't left his apartment in two years.

 Let It Happen
Chapter Summary

It's always around me, all this noise.

Chapter Notes

mood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

A few days before Christmas, Jeongguk is alone at home. There's a movie playing on his
laptop, but he's lying on his side on the couch, typing on his phone.

[+39 -7] What's everyone doing for Christmas? I'm meeting my family for dinner >>_<

[+19 -23] I told mine I couldn't come. My mom cried.

[+12 -31] Brutal, man! Why didn't you go? Its only once a year ^^

[+45 -23] I haven't left my house in 8(?) months. Not so easy.

[+42 -5] My parents didn't bother to invite me this year. Haven't spoken to them since my
sisters wedding

[+1] At least you guys have families. I'm totally alone. It's just me and Widow ㅎㅎㅎ

Jeongguk lowers the phone when he hears stomping outside of the apartment. There's a
dragging noise, like people moving furniture, and the muffled sound of voices. He mutes his
computer to listen. After a second, he gets curious about the commotion and tiptoes to the
front door.

Peeking out through the peephole, he sees a tall person with short blue hair standing in front
of his door. They're facing 9A, the apartment across from his, as two movers carry a red
couch through the door.

The building is old and has narrow doorways, and it looks like the movers are having trouble
fitting the couch through. Jeongguk watches on with curious detachment, muted laptop still
playing in the living room.
When the couch finally slides through, the blue-haired person claps in celebration. The sound
of their gleeful laughter is muffled by the door as they follow the moving crew into the
apartment. The door swings shut behind them, leaving the carpeted hall empty again.

Jeongguk watches for another minute, then returns to the couch to go back to his phone,
unmuting the computer.

The next day, Jeongguk's doorbell rings.

Curled up on the couch under the comforter, Jeongguk jolts awake. He has a kink in his neck,
an ache that's never not there. He figures the buzz must've come from the TV, which was left
on. He turns off the morning news and rolls to the other side on the couch, closing his eyes.

The sound of the doorbell comes again, and Jeongguk's eyes fly open.

Who could that be? He didn't order any food.

Standing up slowly, he tiptoes to the front door, heart pounding. He holds his breath and leans
in to look through the peephole.

There's a guy standing at his door, bright blue hair swept over his forehead. It's the person
from the day before, Jeongguk realizes, the one who moved into 9A.

The man seems to be holding something, a container distorted at the edge of the fisheye of
the glass. He stands there for another moment, unaware of the eyes on him, then looks around
the hall and sets the object on the floor. He turns around, retreats into the apartment a few feet
away, and shuts the door.

Jeongguk waits until the other is gone to slowly remove the security latch from the door,
pulling the deadbolt and turning the lock. Crouching down, he opens the door just enough to
reach out with an arm and grab the object on the floor. Once he has it, he quickly slams the
door shut again.

The new neighbor left him a clear tupperware of homemade sugar cookies. They're frosted
with white and blue snowflake designs, topped with sprinkles.

Jeongguk cracks the lid open and sniffs, suspicious.

Sugary.
On Christmas Eve, the new neighbor throws a party.

Jeongguk knows this because he hears loud music from 9A, voices echoing out the hall all
night as people walk to and from the elevator.

From his living room couch, Jeongguk imagines what the party could be like. It's been a
while since he's been to one, not since high school in Busan. Or maybe freshman year of
college, if he's counting welcome week events with mandatory attendance. In all instances, he
kept to himself and played games on his phone instead of talking to people. Parties have
never really been his thing.

For dinner, he eats a bowl of extra-spicy ramen, which he had delivered with the rest of his
groceries. He eats instant noodles multiple times a week, but they're still his favorite meal. He
scrolls through his phone as he slurps the broth, his computer playing something in the other
room.

Later, as he's dozing off on the couch, an odd noise pulls him awake. It's like fumbling in a
lock, keys jingling right outside the front door.

Someone trying to break in? He stares at the ceiling, listening to the rattle and praying it goes
away on its own. It doesn't.

Heart pounding, he sits up and toes into his slippers. The TV and his computer are off, so the
apartment is dark and silent, save for the noise coming from the door.

Jeongguk stops by the coat closet in the hall, cracks it open to reach for the old baseball bat
inside. He flips on the light switch and walks to the door, heart in his throat as he looks
through the peephole.

He can see blue, a lot of it, but not much else.

“Um, hello?” he asks through the door, alarmed. The head doesn't lift, the hair blocking his
vision, and Jeongguk hesitantly undoes the security latch to crack it open. “Hel–”

A weight presses in, someone falling through, and the bat drops with a clang as he throws out
his arms instinctively. He catches the blue-haired man by the shoulders, preventing him from
falling.

The guy finds his footing and straightens, swaying. He's very pretty, probably in his early
twenties like Jeongguk, and his droopy eyes blink slowly as he lifts his head, like he's
struggling to focus. He looks Jeongguk hard in the face with deep brown eyes. “Is this a
Christmas miracle?”

“W-What?”
“You're in my apartment,” the guy slurs.

Jeongguk's eyes widen, and he looks down at the ringed finger the stranger pokes his chest
with. He stays frozen right up until the guy leans in, smell of alcohol in his breath.

“No, this is my apartment,” Jeongguk corrects, blushing. He doesn't know where to look, his
eyes darting back to the man's shockingly handsome face. He has a round button nose, full
lips and long eyelashes. Jeongguk would typically avoid eye contact at all costs, but he feels
somewhat safer staring at a confused drunk person. “You live right there.”

He points to 9A over the guy's shoulder. The neighbor's eyebrows raise under his blue hair as
he turns, hand still on Jeongguk's chest.

“Oh...” The other grins slowly, then turns back to Jeongguk. Jeongguk shrinks back, terrified
of the charged smile. “So you must be my mysterious neighbor, 9D.” Jeongguk nods quickly.
Mysterious? “Did you eat the cookies?”

Jeongguk remembers the plastic container left at his door the other day, the frosted snowflake
cookies sitting untouched in the kitchen. He'd convinced himself they were poisoned. He
glances at the neighbor, who's leaning against the door frame with a pout, and nods dumbly.

The stranger grins and slides forward, losing balance again. Jeongguk catches him by the
shoulders before he can fall on him. The man's wearing a soft, dark green sweater, the fuzzy
flyaways tickling Jeongguk's skin.

“M'bad,” the guy giggles, straightening. He doesn't look very sorry, though, the dopey grin
still on his face, his cheeks brightly flushed. “Can you help me get back to my apartment?”

Apartment 9A is right there, only a few feet away, but Jeongguk nods speechlessly, stepping
over the baseball bat on the floor to walk out.

The neighbor wobbles dangerously when Jeongguk lets him go, so he has to wrap an arm
around his waist to hold him steady. It's a bold move, one Jeongguk wouldn't attempt with a
sober person, and the physical contact makes his heart pound. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

Jeongguk all but carries the guy as they step over to the correct apartment, blue hair brushing
his chin.

“I have the key,” the neighbor announces helpfully, holding up a keychain with a stuffed
heart swinging from it. Jeongguk takes it, uses it to unlock the door to 9A as the stranger
clings to his old T-shirt.

When the door opens, Jeongguk discovers an apartment identical to his, the layout merely
flipped. There's a small living space at the end of the hall where the kitchen is, twin doors to
a bedroom and a bathroom on the righthand side.

That's where the similarities end, though. Despite moving in only a few days ago, the
neighbor already has Christmas decorations up, string lights framing the two windows at the
back and a potted Christmas tree wrapped in lights and ornaments in the corner.
Jeongguk walks in carefully, the neighbor still leaning heavily against his side with a hand
fisting his shirt. The signs of the party are all there, solo cups on the coffee table and the edge
of the rug flipped up, but it looks like the apartment is empty now.

A red couch Jeongguk recognizes sits in the middle of the room, its cushions scattered across
the rug like people were using them to sit. Jeongguk approaches the couch, figuring he'll drop
the neighbor's dead weight there, but as soon as he's by it, the guy stands with no wobble and
sits down on it himself.

The neighbor sinks back on his elbows, green sweater hiking up, and lolls his head to the
side, showing off the line of his neck.

Jeongguk takes a step backward. “Um, I'm gonna go now.”

Head on his shoulder, the neighbor lifts a long leg and bites his lip. “Help me take these off?”
he asks in a cutesy tone, deep in his rich voice. “I can't sleep with socks on.”

Jeongguk's never had aegyo directed at him, much less by a man, but he thinks that that's
what that must be. He nods dumbly, suspecting he's blushing. Holy fucking shit.

Stepping closer, he takes the neighbor's raised foot, carefully pulling the fluffy sock off by the
ankle. When Jeongguk drops it on the couch to remove the other one, the neighbor presses
his bare foot against his stomach, pushing up his shirt.

Flustered, Jeongguk reaches for the other foot, ignoring the one on him. He holds the
stranger's leg by the ankle and wrestles the fuzzy sock off. His mind is fucking spinning.

The neighbor chuckles breathlessly, drops the foot from his belly and presses his toes into
Jeongguk's hand. He's enjoying this.

Jeongguk pulls away and takes a hurried step back, dropping the sock on the floor. His heart
is beating so damn fast, and he wonders whether he might be still asleep.

It wouldn't be the first time he's had a questionable fantasy.

“All done?” the stranger asks, pouting. Jeongguk nods, his mind blank. “Hm... Too bad.” He
lies on his back, dropping one leg over the backrest of the couch and stretching the other
across the rug, spreading his legs. “You're so cute, 9D. What's your name?”

Jeongguk swallows thickly, half in shock and half in awe as the neighbor folds his hands over
his stomach and closes his eyes, leaving himself entirely vulnerable with a complete stranger
in his home. There's a smooth strip of honey-colored skin above the waistband of his jeans,
and his belly looks fucking soft.

“Jeongguk,” he blurts, backing away toward the hall. “My name is Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk,” the neighbor sighs, his deep voice sending chills down Jeongguk's spine.

“I'm, uh, I'm gonna go now,” Jeongguk repeats, meaning it this time.
The stranger raises a hand and waves. “Merry Christmas, Jeongguk.”

Heart hammering, Jeongguk turns around and rushes the hell out of there. In a second, he's
back in his apartment, the door slamming shut behind him. He leans against it, breathing
hard.

His apartment is the same as the one he was just in, plain white walls and weathered
hardwood flooring. Although the neighbor already had furniture and decor after days of
living there, Jeongguk's living room has only a solitary couch for furniture, trash piled beside
the overflowing garbage bin.

The whole place smells musty, something he hadn't noticed until he stepped outside. He
walks to one of the windows and wrestles it open, sticking out his head and taking a deep
breath.

He just left his apartment for the first time in two years.

It all started when Jeongguk turned 20 and his father got him a flat near the university as a
coming-of-age gift. Until then, he'd been living with three roommates in college, sharing a
two-bedroom dorm on campus.

He was a programming nerd and gamer, socially withdrawn and practically glued to his
devices by nature, but living with other people had kept him in check. There was always
someone to ask him out for food, throw pillows at his head when he was still playing
Overwatch at three in the morning.

Living alone, though, he could do whatever he wanted with no oversight. He stayed up all
night every night, ate chips in bed for dinner, and ordered groceries online because it was
easier. He didn't have to leave home and avoid the eyes of people— he could just not leave
the apartment at all.

And so he didn't, for the whole of summer, too entertained online to notice that the weeks
were passing.

By the time the fall semester of sophomore year began, something had changed in his brain
chemistry. When he tried to leave for the first day of classes, he was too scared to leave home
and face people. How would he walk? What would he say? His stomach turned at the mere
thought of being around humans. He started sweating, feeling physically ill when he tried to
step out of the house.

So he skipped the first day of classes, and the second, and the all of the ones after that.
After weeks of skipping simply because he could not bring himself to step outside, Jeongguk
received a letter in the mail informing him that his university had permanently withdrawn his
enrollment. Kicked him out.

At that point, the wise thing to do would've probably been to call his dad or talk to his college
counselor to try to explain himself, but he was too terrified to act.

His divorced father lived in Busan, where his three half-siblings were, and wired him an
allowance every month to pay for every single one of his expenses with no questions asked.
If Jeongguk ever told him about his self-imposed seclusion, he'd think his fears were
insubstantial. He would've never taken Jeongguk's explanation seriously, would've been
disappointed and mad and disowned him forever. And so Jeongguk kept his mouth shut.

With no job, no school, and no friends or family to help him out of whatever hole he'd dug
himself into, Jeongguk permanently withdrew into the apartment. With the modern comforts
of technology and his father's seemingly endless bank account, he had everything he needed
to stay alive with little to no human interaction.

And that's how he went from being a relatively average dork to a NEET.

Christmas Day is quiet, no sign of parties across the hall. Jeongguk looks through the
peephole every time he hears voices outside, but no one walks in or out of 9A.

Jeongguk's been obsessed with the neighbor since the night before. Not only was he the first
person he's interacted with in two years, but he was also fucking gorgeous. Jeongguk knows
he must be that friendly with everybody if he baked his neighbors cookies, but he also called
him cute. Surely that must be a good sign.

When was the last time someone paid him a compliment?

So in the early evening, he comes up with a plan to see the neighbor again. He ate all of the
cookies the night before, washed the container carefully so he could return it clean.

To get ready to pay him a visit, he takes a shower and changes out of his pajamas into jeans
for the first time in a shamefully long while. They barely fit anymore, the button not wanting
to close over his bloated stomach. He should really cut back on the sodium, maybe use those
weights laying in his closet.

As he's brushing his teeth, he watches his reflection and sees a pale face with overgrown dark
hair and acne scars. Would the neighbor still think he's cute now, when he doesn't have drunk
goggles on? Probably not.

When the time comes to step out of the apartment, Jeongguk hesitates with a hand around the
doorknob. There's a sinking feeling in his stomach, a nagging voice in his head telling him
that he's going to regret it if he leaves. Fucked up things happen to people outside, and he
might just end up humiliated and heartbroken if he chases after someone who's attractive and
normal and so clearly out of his league.

He has nothing interesting to say, no life experiences to draw from. He's never dated, never
kissed, never had sex. He's 22, but he might as well be ten years younger, stuck in some
fucked up time warp where every day's exactly the same.

He's a shut-in; it's who he's become.

Tossing the tupperware on the floor, he marches into his bedroom and slams the door shut.

Fuck everything. Nothing's worth it. He'd rather play Overwatch all night.

A few days later, the doorbell rings. He's a light sleeper, so he hears it instantly from the
bedroom, sits up with his heart pounding. He glances at the clock on the bedside table. 14:43.

Stripping out of his days-old shirt, he stands and rummages through the dresser for a fresh
one. The laundry room's in the basement, meaning there's always a chance he might run into
someone, so he avoids it like the plague. He's on the last few usable tops. When the doorbell
buzzes a second time, he tiptoes to the front door, tugging on an old college shirt. He's in no
fucking hurry—he wants the person to leave. Unless...

He looks through the peephole.

The new neighbor from 9A is there again, dressed in a turquoise turtleneck that matches his
striking hair. Jeongguk stares at him through the glass for a minute, hesitating. “Hello?”

“Hey!” comes the guy's muffled voice. “Open up.”

Jeongguk unlocks all the bolts and does, tentatively, lowering his eyes. “...hi?”

“Hey!” the neighbor repeats, chirpy. Jeongguk risks a quick look at his face, sees brown eyes
and a friendly grin. Why is he there? Why is he smiling so much? “Do you remember me?”

The guy is using his cute voice again, which Jeongguk finds hard to resist.

“I do,” he mumbles. “Do you remember me?”

The neighbor laughs, grabbing the doorknob and leaning forward. Jeongguk takes a
preemptive step back, shielding himself with the door.

“Thanks for helping me back home on Christmas. My friends and I were playing Never Have
I Ever and I think I was losing.” Jeongguk doesn't know what that means, so he nods
agreeably. It's his way of keeping people talking, but instead of continuing, the neighbor
pauses with a grin. “Do you know that game?”

“Um. No?”

“Then we should play it some time,” the guy suggests.

“Uh, okay.” Jeongguk rakes through his brain for something interesting to say and remembers
the tupperware. “Hold on a sec.”

He turns and stumbles down the hall to the kitchen, finding the empty container on the
counter. There's a mess of other dishes in the sink, a bag of garbage waiting to get taken out.
He meant to do that this morning, but something on his phone must've distracted him for
hours. He turns to return to the door.

To his surprise, the neighbor is inside his home, wandering into the living room and heading
for the sole couch. He plops down on the blankets and pillow Jeongguk uses to sleep and
Jeongguk's jaw drops.

“Tomorrow's my birthday,” the stranger yawns, lying down.

“Is it?” Jeongguk asks nervously, walking to the living room with the tupperware extended.
He hopes the guy will take it and leave, before he notices the trash or the smell. He shouldn't
be here—Jeongguk should ask him to go. Politely, so he doesn't offend him. “Happy
birthday.”

“Say it to me tomorrow,” the neighbor hums, taking the plastic tub and hugging it against his
chest. He has his head on Jeongguk's pillow, blue hair fanned out over the yellowed fabric.
“When were you born, Jeongguk?”

Jeongguk is taken by surprise when the neighbor uses his name, didn't think he'd remember
since he was so drunk on Christmas Eve.

When he hesitates, the guy grabs one of his hands and flips it over. He scratches the side of a
fingernail over Jeongguk's palm, a ring brushing his skin.

“You have a broken heart line,” he laments, pouting.

In spite of how nice that feels, Jeongguk pulls his hand back, an irrational fear of discovery
taking over. “Broken heart line?”

The neighbor rubs at his eye, rolling around. “It's a palm reading thing. I just started
learning.”
Jeongguk looks down at his hand, sees only flushed skin and calluses on his wrist and fingers
from using a computer mouse too often.

The other stands, adjusting the collar of his turtleneck. He looks right at home, utterly
unbothered by the sorry state of Jeongguk's apartment. Must be good at pretending. Or crazy
enough not to notice.

“I'm grabbing dinner tomorrow with some friends at that Vietnamese restaurant round the
corner,” the guy says, walking himself to the door. “At eight, for my birthday. Will you
come?”

The neighbor turns around to look at him, and Jeongguk shrugs noncommittally. Outside,
with a group of strangers? Not happening.

“You should. It'll be fun,” the guy promises, continuing on his way. He pauses again at the
door, glancing at Jeongguk, and waves with a smile before going.

Jeongguk raises a hand in an awkward goodbye, a second too late. As soon as the guy is
gone, he rushes to the door to watch him through the peephole. When the door to 9A closes,
Jeongguk knocks his forehead against the wood and replays their conversation in his head,
thinking about all the words he could've said differently. He didn't even ask the guy for his
name. He groans in frustration, banging his head.

He has to go to that goddamn birthday party.

Jeongguk orders a card for next-day delivery. The cost of shipping is five times the value of
the card, but at this point he never looks at the prices for shipping anymore. The allowance he
gets from his father is more than enough to cover his meager living expenses.

The package arrives in the late afternoon, dropped off just outside the door. As usual, he
crouches and sticks out only his arm to retrieve it, too chicken shit to open the door like a
normal person.

The card is simple, a thick, textured paper with a hand-drawn birthday cake as the cover
design. He takes it to the kitchen and finds a pen.

Dear

He stops writing, digging the felt tip of the pen into the paper. What is he supposed to say
when he doesn't even know the guy's name? He should've left it blank, but now he's already
started. He lifts the pen from the card and sees it left a blot of ink. He ruined it.

Cursing himself, he tosses the pen away. Why does he always have to screw everything up?

After a late lunch, he decides to start getting ready. He can do it, no big deal.

He brushes his teeth and rinses with mouthwash, takes a long, hot shower to wash his greasy
hair. It's long and unkempt, curling over his eyes and his ears. He usually trims it with
scissors, but it's been a while since he's done even that. He pushes it back from his face with
wet fingers.

Because he's been putting off doing the laundry, he has nothing clean to wear. The only fresh
shirt was a gift from his mother from a bougie designer store from the mall, a white button-
down with an ugly standup collar. He tries it on and immediately feels like a douchebag,
some rich mama's boy with a shit personality. He tugs at the tight neck and tight armpits. He
takes it off.

Right before 8 p.m., he thinks he hears a neighbor's door open. He lowers the graphic tee he's
been trying to handwash in the bathroom sink and races to the door to look through the
peephole.

The blue-haired neighbor is wearing a loose brown shirt, his vibrant hair tucked behind a
black hat. One of his earrings looks like a long dangly piece of metal, and it swishes as he
turns to lock the front door. He glances right at Jeongguk's door before continuing down the
hall.

Jeongguk takes one look at himself, the white shirt he wrestled back on now sprinkled with
detergent and soaked with armpit sweat. He could try to pat it dry and go meet the pretty
neighbor and his friends, or he could save himself the trouble and embarrassment and just
stay home. He staggers to the bathroom to try to fix the situation, but when he catches a
glimpse of himself in the mirror, he stops again. He's flushed and gleaming with sweat,
already disheveled though he's only been indoors. His head is burning, too, like it always
does when he's about to be sick.

He turns on the cold tap and sticks his hands under the water. They're trembling. He feels like
he's on a boat in the middle of the summer, hot head swimming. He splashes water on his
face and keeps his eyes safely away from the garbage in the mirror. He can't feel his fingers.

By 20:35, he's on the bathroom floor, back against the cabinet.

It's too late to go now. All of the neighbor's friends will already be there, occupying the seats
around him. Jeongguk would be relegated to a place at the very end, stuck with people he
doesn't know. And did the guy even mean to invite him in the first place? They are virtually
strangers, so if anything, he asked Jeongguk solely out of politeness. He wouldn't even want
to talk to him tonight. He doesn't want Jeongguk to come.

After several more minutes of rumination, he decides not to go. He tears off his shirt and lays
down on the cold bathroom tile, both relieved and disappointed.
When he emerges thirty minutes later, he finds the neighbor's birthday card on the kitchen
counter and flips it open.

Dear 9A,

Happy birthday.

Sorry I couldn't make it. I wish I had.

9D

Sniffing, he slips the card into the envelope and seals it. He walks to the front door, pausing
to look through the peephole. After confirming no one's out there, he opens the door and
steps outside. Looking in both directions, he leans down and reaches across the narrow hall to
slip the card under the door to 9A.

Around 22:30, Jeongguk hears the bing of the elevator opening, then voices echoing down
the hall.

He mutes his music and exits out of his match, listens to the footsteps approaching. A
moment later, the doorbell rings. He perks up but stays in place. When it rings a second time,
he gets up from the chair and tiptoes across the room to the door.

Outside, the blue-haired neighbor is with a small group of friends. There's a short guy with
bright orange hair who has an arm around his waist, and he's animatedly talking to another
guy with bleached hair. More people are off to the side.

Jeongguk doesn't breathe, watching them silently through the peephole. The one touching the
neighbor presses the doorbell a third time, and when Jeongguk doesn't move to answer it, he
turns to the guy and says no one's home. The neighbor pouts but nods, and Jeongguk leans
away from the door, feeling like a fucking idiot.

He hears the pretty neighbor and his friends retreat into 9A for a night of drinking and
partying, and when he looks through the peephole again, there's no one left in the hallway. He
turns around and leans back against the door.

Once again, he's denied himself the chance to be normal.

The next day, Jeongguk wakes up on the living room couch. He fell asleep gaming again, big
surprise. His laptop is on its side on the floor, the dead screen black. One day he thinks he
might wake up to a shattered screen.
Scratching fingers through his hair, he pulls his phone out from under his body. He has
several notifications from a post he made on a forum the night before, when he was desperate
to talk to someone about his dilemma.

How to interact with normies?

[+33 -4] Don't ever tell her you're a NEET. They run away in a second when they find out
you're unemployed.

[+2 -16] Just be yourself. If they like you, good. If they don't, they're not worth it.

[+9 -10] Say you're interested and see what happens?

[+23 -2] I wish something like this would happen to me. I've been like this for 8 years now, no
marriage, no job, no friends, only living off my 80yo mother. She's sick now, I'm screwed.

At least he's not that guy, Jeongguk thinks. Not yet.

For lunch, he orders a pizza. It's Sunday, so there's only golf and baseball on TV. There was a
time when he would've been excited about the latter, but watching it now he feels nothing. It's
hard to imagine a time when he knew the weight of a glove or was interested in a game that
wasn't virtual.

After lunch, he takes his laptop to the bedroom, plugging it in by the bed. Switching rooms is
always a good way to feel like the days are passing.

For the next six hours, he streams TV shows on his computer and answers the comments on
his thread, listening to music in the background. When he gets hungry, he drags his feet to the
kitchen and reheats the pizza in the microwave. He eats in bed with something blasting from
all devices.

When the show is over and the plate on his nightstand empty, he decides to take out the trash.
This is an intimidating task that involves getting fully dressed and carrying the garbage to the
basement, which is one of the only two activities that force him out of his apartment (laundry
being the other). He always takes the service elevator to avoid contact, but sometimes there
are people using that one, too.

After finding his outdoor slippers gathering dust under the couch, Jeongguk carries the
garbage bag out, speedwalking down the hall to the emergency stairwell and elevator.

The first 30 seconds after leaving home are crucial. This is when he sometimes chickens out
and gives up, sweating and shaking like being outside, no matter the context, activates some
fucked up fight or flight switch in his brain.

His life is suddenly an Overwatch game, he a lone Pharmacy hero on prime enemy territory.

“Come on, hurry,” he mutters to himself as he waits for the elevator, watching the button.
When the light switches off, he steps inside the metal box and relaxes only when the doors
close around him.
Luckily, he doesn't run into anyone in the basement as he dumps out the trash. The building
turns out to be so quiet and surprisingly empty that he decides to stop by the lobby to check
the mailbox, which he hasn't done in a couple of weeks. All he gets are ads and coupons for
food delivery, anyway.

He walks down the entry hall and fits the key into his mailbox to unlock it.

The door to the building chooses that moment to open, a rush of cold air and sirens blasting
in. Jeongguk cowers against the wall, overwhelmed.

“Oh, sorry.” It's a girl he's seen before in the building, bundled up in a coat and winter scarf.
He shrinks back to give her ample clearance as she rushes by, heels clacking. “Happy New
Year!”

Once she's out of sight in the elevator, Jeongguk pulls out his phone and checks the date.

It's New Year's Eve, nearing midnight. He hadn't even noticed.

Glancing over at the mailbox for 9A, he wonders whether he's celebrating. He would assume
so, since the neighbor seemed like a carefree dude making the most of his twenties.

As Jeongguk should've been doing.

Dejected, he heads back upstairs and turns on the TV to watch the annual year wrap-up show.
When the clock strikes midnight, everyone in the country celebrates. There's footage of
friends hugging, couples kissing, families laughing, all the things he doesn't have.

He sends his mother a Happy New Year text, but god knows what she's up to these days, so
he doesn't hear back. His father does call, but he doesn't answer. He's out there somewhere,
spending time with his new family. Jeongguk wants no part in that.

Rolling onto his side, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The thought of another year
gone by brings a knot to his throat. Hours drag by when you're bored, but you never really
notice time passing. It's like one day, one month, one year, all of it's the same. Nothing ever
changes.

Jeongguk must fall asleep like that, because a while later, he wakes up on the couch to the
sound of the doorbell.

This time, his eyes fly open quickly, a face springing to mind. He stands up feeling only
mildly disoriented, pulls his sweaty sleep shirt off to race to the bathroom for a coverup.

“Coming, hold on a sec!”

Jeongguk yanks a towel from the hanger, draping it over an arm and splashing water on his
face to look more awake. He dries himself off as he walks to the door, and doesn't need to
look through the peephole to know who it is.

“Happy New Year!” the blue-haired neighbor exclaims, his cheeks flushed from drinking.
Jeongguk suddenly gets a faceful of confetti, sputtering as the neighbor laughs, standing there
in a white shirt and a white jacket.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk brushes the bits out of his hair, lips twitching. He's so fucking
happy to see a friendly face tonight. “Happy New Year.”

Grinning, the neighbor helps him dust off the metallic flakes from his shoulders, unsticking
them from his skin. Jeongguk stands very still as the cool hand brushes him, wondering
whether the guy carried those flakes all the way home to pull that prank.

“Is this a bad time?” the neighbor asks, his tone teasing. Jeongguk sees his eyes on his chest.

“Um, I was just about to shower,” he lies, keeping his arms pressed together because that
should disguise the sweat somewhat. “How about you?”

“I was at a party, now I'm headed to the afterparty,” the neighbor says, leaning in and looking
into Jeongguk's apartment. Jeongguk is shocked and amazed that he's willing to come so
close to him. “—Are you sure that's all you're doing?”

Jeongguk panics, glancing back and expecting to see heaps of dirty dishes or smelly clothes
in the corner. He just took out the trash, though, and the place has got to smell fresher than
the last time 9A forced his way inside.

“Uh, yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean, are you with someone?” the guy leans back and he's smirking, twirling a lock of
blue hair around a finger. There's a piece of silver confetti stuck to the side of his hand, which
he doesn't seem to notice. “Like in your bedroom, maybe?”

“Ah, no,” Jeongguk laughs dryly, a bit in disbelief that someone could even think that. He
reaches out and unsticks the silver cutout from the other's hand, letting it flutter to the floor.

The neighbor glances down, then up at him and back into his apartment, like he was fully
convinced he'd see signs of other people somewhere. He huffs, stirring the blue hair over his
eyes.

“I realized something important,” Jeongguk adds. The neighbor's pout dissolves, replaced
with a curious smile. “I didn't get your name.”

“Ah,” the guy grins slowly, rocking back on his feet and crossing his arms. “It's Taehyung.”

“Taehyung. Okay.”

Taehyung chuckles and looks him over again. Jeongguk makes sure to square his shoulders
and suck in his belly, hiding as much as he can behind the towel. The benefit of gaining
twenty pounds is that he's bigger than Taehyung, even though they're about the same height.
It feels like an advantage now, somehow.

“Are you headed somewhere or just getting back?” Taehyung asks.

Jeongguk blinks, thinking quickly. “Just getting back,” he lies.

“Do you want to come to a party with me?” Taehyung offers, leaning against the door and
pulling something from the pocket of his jacket. It's a flat compact, and he flips the mirror
open to look at himself, adjusting the tight collar-like band around his neck. “Me and some
friends are meeting up for a New Year's bash at a club nearby. We're getting a table.”

Nothing sounds more hellish to Jeongguk than going to a nightclub with a group of people he
doesn't know, and he feels himself pale at the invitation. “Um—”

“Don't worry about it if it's not your scene,” the neighbor adds, mercifully. “We should hang
out, though. You could show me around.”

He pockets the mirror and takes something else out of his pocket, a flat, stick-looking thing.
He clicks the button on it several times before placing the end between his lips, taking a long
pull. It's an electronic cigarette, Jeongguk realizes. Through his nose, Taehyung breathes out
a cloud of white vapor that smells like strawberry. He offers the vape pen to Jeongguk and
Jeongguk shakes his head. He's pretty sure this is a non-smoking building, and that people
aren't supposed to smoke those.

“Are you new to Seoul?” he asks, watching the guy inhale another lungful.

“Yeah, I moved here from the countryside for college,” Taehyung sighs, white vapor rushing
out through the corner of his mouth. “I think we'd have a good time together.”

Jeongguk wets his lips and nods, resisting the urge to fan the chapstick smoke away. There's
another question in his mind now, but he just nods, too embarrassed to ask.

“Alright,” Taehyung sniffs, turning around. He steps toward his place, then glances over his
shoulder. “Thanks for the birthday card, by the way.”

“No problem,” he smiles weakly. “How old are you?”

“Twenty. How about you?”

What? “...I'm twenty-two.”

“Oh.” Taehyung looks surprised, then his shoulders drop and he smiles warmly. “That means
you're my hyung.”

Jeongguk screams in his head. He'd just assumed Taehyung was older, and now feels
infinitely worse about being inexperienced. The guy's so fucking cute, though. What would a
popular kid like him want to do with a loser like Jeongguk?

Jeongguk smiles weakly again. Taehyung is interested because he doesn't know him.

“I'll see you later,” Taehyung waves, stepping over to 9A and fetching keys from his back
pocket. Jeongguk accidentally notices his ass. “Maybe I'll stop by after the party to check if
you're still awake. Overwatch, right?”

Jeongguk looks up with a raised eyebrow, watching the neighbor retreat into his apartment.
How does he..?
Taehyung gives him another little wave before closing the door, the air around them still
berry-sweet.

How to flirt with normies?

[+19 -2] Go to the gym, eat better, show them you have hobbies.

[+23 -4] Hide your gaming computer and any anime figures. Cook them dinner.

[+3 -21] Just come clean and tell them about your problems. Relationships are great
motivators.

[+7 -15] What's the point? Let's be real, normies don't understand our lifestyle and
relationships never last. She'll dump you sooner or later and you'll be even more depressed.

Lying in bed, Jeongguk rubs his temple and tosses the phone aside. He's been browsing
forums since he woke up three hours ago, and now he's in a bad mood and has a headache.

Sitting up, he looks around the dirty room and feels like he's gotta do something productive
with the day. He takes a deep breath, then stands up and starts collecting the clothing from the
floor.

Carrying the hamper and two laundry pods, Jeongguk steps out of the apartment. Leaving is
slightly easier since he successfully ventured out into the building the day before. Talking to
a person in the flesh might've helped somewhat, too.

Still, he dashes down the corridor, walking to the less-popular service elevator as quickly as
he can without breaking into a sprint. As usual, he only relaxes once he's out of sight.

In the basement, he's greeted with the sound of a washing machine already working. There
are only three of them for the whole building, so he feels his stomach drop at the thought that
he might have to come back later. Or worse, that he's about to run into a person. Goddammit.

Jeongguk walks to the shared laundry room, filled with dread. Only two of the machines are
on and no one else is there. He lets out a sigh of relief and starts loading his clothes into the
free washer.

When one of the other machines ends its cycle, door clicking ajar, he starts working faster. A
minute later, he jumps at the sound of the elevator opening into the basement, someone
arriving just in time.

He quickly punches in the settings for his load to try to get out of there as soon as possible.
The person walks in, yawning.

"'Morning,” a deep, sleepy voice greets. Jeongguk looks over his shoulder and confirms it's
9A, sees his excitement echoed on the neighbor's expressive face. “Ah, hyung! It's you.”

“Hi,” Jeongguk greets back, discreetly taking in the neighbor's blue bedhead and white face
mask. His eyes look puffy, like someone who just woke up, but he still looks like a
supermodel. “How was the party last night?”

“Oh, I went hard.” Taehyung has a drowsy grin behind his mask as he steps over to the
washing machine, bending down to open the door. “Ah, I forgot my laundry basket...”

“Use mine.” Jeongguk pushes his hamper towards him.

“Thanks,” the neighbor grins warmly, looking up and meeting his gaze through the blue hair
as he pulls the basket closer. Jeongguk stares.

Taehyung loads his wet clothes into Jeongguk's hamper as he watches, enthralled. Despite
how intimidatingly attractive Taehyung is, there's something disarming about his presence.
Jeongguk had first attributed it to drunkenness, but it seems to be a general softness to his
personality, which is only more apparent now that he's sleepy.

Jeongguk feels strangely comfortable around him, about as comfortable as he can feel in the
presence of another.

“You missed an awesome party last night, you know,” Taehyung yawns, standing up.
Jeongguk lifts the hamper for him, apparently offering to carry it. Taehyung seems to like
that, his smile widening behind the mask. “We had unlimited bottle service. I drank so much
champagne.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk almost leaves it at that, but then Taehyung turns around and he's wearing
very tight shorts. Jeongguk is compelled to keep talking. “Is that why you didn't come see me
afterward like you promised?”

Taehyung laughs, just as he'd intended, and turns to face him after pressing the button for the
main elevator. “I didn't promise, I said I might come see you,” the neighbor reminds, leaning
back against the wall. “Did you wait up for me?”

Yes. “Yes,” Jeongguk blurts, not really thinking straight. He tries to remember the advice
from the forums. Something about cooking—no, he can't do that.

The elevator arrives and Jeongguk steps in after Taehyung. They stand shoulder-to-shoulder
and Jeongguk prays he doesn't stink.

“Were you at a party last night before I saw you?” Taehyung suddenly asks, breaking the
silence.

“Hm? Oh.” Jeongguk swallows. He doesn't like lying, doesn't want to lie to Taehyung, but it's
a necessary evil. “Yeah, um. Yes.”
“Was it fun?”

“Yeah, super fun.”

“Really?” Taehyung is looking at him funny, staring right at the side of his face, and
Jeongguk fears he can somehow tell that he isn't telling the truth.

“...No,” he admits.

“I knew it!” Taehyung pulls his face mask down and grins at Jeongguk, rounding up on him
in the small space. Jeongguk thinks he's going to die of overheating.

“Knew what?”

“That we're the same. You prefer staying in, right?”

“Right,” Jeongguk agrees hesitantly, not sure what he's agreeing to. The doors finally open
and he steps out.

“I knew it,” Taehyung repeats, leading the way to their apartments. “We're both homebodies.
Staying at home and watching movies is actually my favorite thing. Let's hang out here
instead of going out, what do you say?”

It's clear that the neighbor misunderstood–or underestimated–his point, but Jeongguk thinks
this outcome is even better. An excuse for never leaving that doesn't make him sound like a
freak.

“Okay.”

“Okay, cool.” Taehyung stops in front of his door to unlock it. “So when can you come over?
I can make dinner.”

Jeongguk inhales sharply, setting the laundry bag down. Unaware of his reaction, Taehyung
unlocks the door and wrestles the hamper inside.

“What did you say?”

“When can you come over?” Taehyung repeats, sounding amused. “For dinner.”

Jeongguk hesitates. “Tomorrow?”

“I have to work tomorrow,” Taehyung pouts, turning to face him. “Can it be an early dinner?
What time are you home?”

All day. “I'm back at three,” he lies.

“Oh, perfect, let's do five,” Taehyung grins warmly, his eyes disappearing. He's so fucking
cute. Jeongguk wants to keep looking at him forever. “See you tomorrow, then.”
Jeongguk nods dumbly, not thinking about what he's saying yes to. The neighbor winks and
shuts the door with a little wave.

“Bye,” Jeongguk mumbles.

How to date?

[+22 -2] Go! Clearly you're doing something right.

[+13 -1] Wow really? You're so lucky.

[+16 -3] There are a bunch of YT tutorials on how to flirt/attract women. I recommend ones
by this user. Basically compliment her, ask about her interests, etc

[+18 -4] If you go with that mentality, they'll pick up on it. Try to relax, look ur best.

It's the day of his date and Jeongguk stands in front of the bathroom mirror, scissors in hand.
He got his hair wet in the shower to make it easier to cut, combing it out with his fingers. He
snips at the strands at an upward angle to make the chop less obvious, but doesn't really know
what he's doing. When he dries his hair with a towel, it still looks the same, shaggy and
curly.

Jeongguk has his clothes on a drying rack by the open window, the cold air from outside
chilling the living room. The sun has already started setting, the sky a pale grayish-blue and
filled with clouds.

He steps over to the window to pick out a shirt to wear, but his attention diverts to the sights
outside, people walking on the street and cars driving by.

It would be rude to show up empty-handed, his mind is telling him. He should go out and
pick up a bottle of soju from the convenience store. There's one right across the street, only a
couple yards from the building.

Uneasy, he grabs a black shirt from the rack and slips it on. He drags himself to the front
door, slips his feet into some sneakers and pockets his wallet and keys.

He'll step out, take the elevator down, leave the building, walk across the street, enter the
store, walk to the alcohol section, and pick up the first bottle of soju he sees. It'll be quick,
and then he'll be back home, a proper gift in hand.
 It should be easy, so why is it so hard?

Pulling out his phone, Jeongguk looks up alcohol delivery services. There are a few options,
but the delivery windows are far too late. Why the fuck didn't he plan this earlier?

Feeling stupid and inept, Jeongguk starts sweating. It prickles at the back of his neck and
between his shoulder blades, making his fresh shirt stick to his skin. The usual nerves kick in
— sweat and anxiety and stomach pain.

Try to relax, he chants in his head, but that only seems to make it worse.

Nauseous, he drops the keys on the kitchen counter and walks into the bathroom, slamming
the door shut.

He can't fucking do it.

The doorbell rings.

Jeongguk is in the bedroom, curled up under the sheets. He opens his eyes at the sound,
glances at the clock to see it's twenty past five. He knows that if he looked through the
peephole, the neighbor would be out there, wondering why he's so late. The dinner he
prepared must be getting cold, Jeongguk realizes.

He closes his eyes, crying in silence, hating himself.

After a while, the doorbell stops ringing.

Chapter End Notes

you know what i finally figured out? i can only write about the city. yeah, that's what ill
be doing from now on.

inspired by psychedelics, this bong joon ho film i watched in college, and some other
stuff. next few chapters are in drafts.

moodboard
STUNNING FANART FROM AN EXTREMELY TALENTED ARTIST
 Borderline
Chapter Summary

Will I be known and loved? Is there one that I trust?

Chapter Notes

mood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The spring semester starts in March and soon Jeongguk pieces together 9A's schedule: he
goes to classes in the morning, stops home in the afternoon, then leaves again to work in the
early evening.

"Work" always seems to involve a big suitcase Taehyung wheels out casually every night,
which makes Jeongguk wonder whether he is an actual supermodel or a certified crazy
person. The latter seems more likely.

But since he flaked out on their plans with no explanation, the neighbor hasn't tried to
approach Jeongguk again. Taehyung must've been offended, which makes it even harder to
apologize to him. What is he supposed to say?

He'd originally meant to visit him later, tell him he'd gotten caught up at work or in school or
whatever, but at the last minute, he changed his mind about making an excuse. Getting caught
in a lie sounded so much worse than simply staying away. Pretending to be a normie is both
difficult to do and unfair to 9A. The neighbor deserves better.

So it's a coincidence when they meet again.

Jeongguk's driven out to the basement to dump out the trash, and when he walks by the
laundry room, he catches a glimpse of bright blue that makes his heart take an involuntary
leap. He drops the garbage bag into the can and stands in the refuse room for a solid two
minutes as he thinks about what to do.

Tiptoeing out would be best, leaving discreetly through the main elevator to avoid detection.
He's weak, though, and the neighbor's so pretty he can't help but walk back slowly the way he
came, pausing at the doorway.
Taehyung is pulling wet clothes out of the washing machine, dropping them into a plastic bin.
He's wearing a white, oversized t-shirt, and a pair of black glasses Jeongguk's never seen him
wear before.

He looks so fucking soft. Almost like a cute Twitch streamer—Jeongguk's biggest wet dream.

It takes 9A a second to notice his presence, but when he does, he looks over and doesn't
smile. That's a first.

“...Hey,” Jeongguk greets, tentatively.

“Hi yourself,” Taehyung mutters, and yes, he's definitely mad.

Jeongguk feels nauseous and scared, thinks the right thing to do would be just to leave and
spare them both the trouble. He'll always be a fucking disappointment, who the fuck is he
kidding.

But it's his fault, and Taehyung deserves some sort of explanation. He did nothing wrong.

He was really fucking nice.

“I'm sorry,” he blurts. Taehyung glances over, then turns away when he doesn't continue. “I'm
sorry for not coming over when you invited me,” he adds. “I got caught up in something.”

“Caught up doing what?” he asks, finally looking at Jeongguk properly.

“Uh, school stuff,” Jeongguk coughs.

“Are you in college?”

“...Yeah.”

“What school?”

“SNU.”

“Really?” Taehyung's eyes light up, and Jeongguk's stomach turns.

“No,” he admits, swallowing. “I dropped out.”

“Oh.”

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, looking confused, and Jeongguk crosses his arms over his
chest to try and look less terrified. He feels sick. This is already more information than he's
ever given anyone.

And if he says too much, Taehyung might figure it out.

To his surprise, Taehyung doesn't press for more details, just shuts the washing machine and
lifts the basket filled with clothes.
He approaches Jeongguk and Jeongguk follows his steps with his eyes trained on Taehyung's
white shirt. When Taehyung stops in front of him, Jeongguk peeks up at his face and knows
he's blushing. Wordlessly, he takes the laundry basket from Taehyung, offering to be his
service mule again. Gladly.

Taehyung smiles a little and walks out, leaving him to follow with the load of washed
clothes.

“If you couldn't make it, you should've just told me,” Taehyung says, clicking the elevator
button.

“I know. I'm sorry,” Jeongguk grimaces.

“I could've brought you some leftovers,” he adds.

“I'm really sorry.”

“I thought you hated me or something.”

Jeongguk looks up and the younger neighbor looks upset, his lips pursed.

“I don't, that's the furthest thing from the truth,” he says vehemently. “It's me I hate.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows then furrows them, the elevator doors opening. He steps in,
still looking at Jeongguk, and presses the button for the ninth floor.

“If I invited you over again, would you come?” he asks. “Or would you ignore me for
another couple weeks?”

Jeongguk cringes. “I'm sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he huffs. “Just answer the question. And be honest.”

“I don't know,” Jeongguk admits, frowning. “Sometimes it's hard for me to do stuff.”

That isn't a very clear explanation, but the neighbor goes quiet and seems to mull it over
anyway. Jeongguk peeks at him from the corner of his eye and tries to figure out what he
might be thinking.

The elevator opens onto their floor and Jeongguk steps out first, walking down the hall to
their apartments. Somehow, the trek is much easier when he isn't alone. He doesn't even have
to run.

“What if I came over?” Taehyung finally says.

Jeongguk glances at him, raising his eyebrows. Taehyung has a serious look on his face. He's
so fucking beautiful.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk chuckles. “That might work.”

Taehyung smiles, his face lighting up. Jeongguk wishes he had the balls to tell him just how
lovely he is.

“When?” Taehyung asks. When Jeongguk takes a second too long to think of a time that
sounds reasonable, he adds, “This weekend. Saturday, 8 p.m.”

Jeongguk sighs, relieved. “Sure, that works.”

“Great,” Taehyung grins. He grabs a key from his pocket, a familiar red plush dangling from
the keychain, and turns to the door to unlock it. “I still have your laundry basket, by the way.
Was going to give it to you after dinner. Come in and get it.”

Jeongguk nods mutely, stepping in after Taehyung when he opens the door to his apartment.

The Christmas decorations are gone, replaced with interesting wall art that looks original.
Taehyung continues inside and Jeongguk lingers in the hallway by the shoes, turning to
inspect one of the canvases on the wall. It's some sort of abstract face brushed in black,
colorful flecks all around it. A little nutty, very cute.

“I painted that in high school,” Taehyung says, coming back with Jeongguk's hamper in his
arms.

“Really?” A nod. “Are you an art major?”

“Crafts and metalwork,” Taehyung says, stepping closer. “At SNU.”

“Oh.”

The college that dropped Jeongguk two years ago. At twenty, Taehyung must be a freshman.
Around this time, Jeongguk would've been starting his fourth and final year of computer
engineering. If he were still enrolled, they'd be attending the same university. Could've even
taken a couple classes together.

Taehyung sets Jeongguk's hamper down, hands on his hips. He steps forward, takes the
basket of wet clothes Jeongguk is still holding.

“I made these, too,” he says, holding out a hand and showing off the rings on his fingers, gold
with all sorts of rocks.

“They're beautiful,” Jeongguk says, looking down at them. Just like you.

“Thanks.” Taehyung smiles. “I think so, too.”

Jeongguk picks up his hamper and opens the door. “So Saturday?”

Taehyung nods, leaning against the wall.

“Saturday.”
When Saturday rolls around, Jeongguk feels surprisingly calm. He wakes up in the morning,
tidies up his bedroom and the living room and burns a candle to make sure everything smells
nice. Thankfully, there isn't much to clean since he's barely got any furniture.

After eating spicy noodles by the sink, he makes sure to wash all the dishes, which he
typically only does when there's barely anywhere else to fit stuff.

Strangely, it feels kind of good to wash up when he at least has a reason to.

It isn't until the early evening that any nerves creep up on him. He's trying to decide what to
wear, a towel wrapped around his hips and water dripping from the ends of his hair.

All he has are graphic tees of cartoons and random internet memes. He pictures beautiful
Taehyung, what he deserves and might expect from him, and feels like a fat nerd.

He ends up finding the ugly white dress shirt his stepmother gave him when he left for
college and putting that on. It's the nicest top he's got. Fitting for job interviews, if he had any
of those. It's pathetic that he's considering wearing something this formal to a stay-at-home
date, but at least it looks like effort. Effort is good. Effort is what he lacks.

When the doorbell rings at eight, he's for all intents and purposes ready. His home is clean,
his clothes are fresh, and his hair's almost totally detangled. He doesn't have any acne, either,
which is itself a miracle.

Still, he hesitates before opening the door, a small but stubborn part of his brain whispering,
this is a bad idea. He and Taehyung have gotten along well so far, but how's he supposed to
carry an actual conversation? They've exchanged pleasantries, that's all. Jeongguk can't talk,
can't entertain a person for any length of time. How should he behave so he doesn't turn the
guy off? He can't remember the goddamn forum replies. He's fucked. On his own.

“Jeongguk?” he hears through the door. “Are you in there?”

The neighbor's dejected tone is what makes him open the cursed thing. Fuck it.

Taehyung is dressed in jeans and a big black t-shirt, the sleeves hanging down his elbows. He
has black reading glasses on, much like when they ran into each other in the middle of
errands.

For him, this is a night in rather than a night out, obviously.

“Hey,” Taehyung grins, visibly relaxing. He lifts two bottles of soju and shakes them, one in
each hand. “Do you drink? I hope so, or I'll have to embarrass myself in front of you again.”
“Again?” Jeongguk asks, stepping aside and holding the door open with his back.

“Christmas Eve, remember?” he says, walking in and heading for the kitchen. “Do you have
any lemons?”

“I don't think so.” He definitely doesn't, barely buys any perishables. Certainly not fresh fruit.
“And that wasn't embarrassing.”

“Wasn't it?” Taehyung sets down the bottles and goes through the cupboards, opening and
closing each of them until he finds the one with all the glasses. “I can't remember what
happened, which is usually a bad sign.”

“You black out when you drink?” he asks. When Taehyung hums an affirmative, Jeongguk
snickers. “I think that means you're gonna be an alcoholic. And you just came of age too. You
should watch out.”

Taehyung laughs, pinching two short glasses between his fingers and bringing them out. “Tell
me something I don't know. So what did I do?”

Jeongguk thinks back, the image of the neighbor lying back on the red couch and pressing his
foot against his belly ingrained in his brain. “You flirted with me, I think.”

“Oh, yeah?” Taehyung grins, twisting the top off one of the bottles and pouring the liquid into
the glasses, splashing soju on the counter when he moves between them. “Drunk me must
suck at flirting, then.”

“How about sober you?” he asks, accepting the glass when Taehyung brings it over. He raises
it and the younger meets him in a quick toast before they both knock back the alcohol.

“Mm, what about sober me?”

“How are you at flirting?” he coughs.

Taehyung grabs his glass and walks back to the kitchen to refill it. “That's for you to judge,”
he says, glancing over and tilting his head, looking at Jeongguk over the top of his glasses in
a way that makes his belly warm. “Nice shirt. Where'd you get it?”

“It was a gift,” Jeongguk explains, looking down at himself. He sucks in his stomach and
stands up straighter when he notices his slouch.

Taehyung hums, capping the bottle and bringing the filled glasses over. He hands one to
Jeongguk. “From who?”

They clink their glasses and down the shots again, Jeongguk inhaling sharply and Taehyung
making a face.

“My mother,” he tells him, licking his lips. Taehyung raises an eyebrow, probably having
expected a more exciting answer, and Jeongguk brushes past him to refill his glass again.
“What should we order? Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. How about pizza? There's this good place called... Hm…”

“Pizza Maru? Papa John's? Monster Pizza?”

“Monster Pizza,” Taehyung nods, coming over.

“Yeah, they're pretty good,” he agrees, pouring more soju for himself. When the younger
holds out his cup, Jeongguk shakes his head.

“What?” Taehyung pouts. “Why not?”

“No more pre-food drinks for you,” he says. “Let's wait til we eat.”

“But you're having more!” Taehyung protests, reaching out and trying to grab the bottle over
Jeongguk's shoulder when he moves it away. He waves his arm frantically, Jeongguk's body
blocking him.

“I'm older. And I weigh more than you,” Jeongguk says calmly, secretly enjoying the feeling
of the other rubbing against him. He lays his free hand on the small of Taehyung's back,
driven by some bold impulse to touch. “You've had enough to drink already. Come on, let's
put something on.”

Still pouty, Taehyung leans back. His big brown eyes are hard to resist, but the shots are
already kicking in and Jeongguk feels like he could do anything. He sets the open bottle
down and grabs his glass, curling his hand around the neighbor's and pulling him toward the
living room.

They take seats on each end of the three-person couch, newly cleared of sleeping blankets
and pillows. Jeongguk sets his glass on the floor after taking a small sip.

“What's your favorite movie?” Taehyung asks, folding his legs underneath himself.

“I don't know. I watch a lot of stuff, but nothing ever sticks with me,” he admits, finding the
remote between the cushions and turning on the TV. “How about you?”

“Probably Gone with the Wind. Have you seen it?” Jeongguk shakes his head, only
recognizing the title. “Oh, you gotta! It's a little questionable, but the moviemaking is so
masterful. It's about loss and survival and how to keep going when things are shit.”

Jeongguk hums. “Sounds like a lesson I need to learn,” he mutters, pulling up Netflix and
starting to scroll through the titles suggested for him.

“Yeah?” Taehyung moves closer on the couch, taking the seat beside his. He turns to face the
TV. “Oh, see, that's why you don't like films. Because you're watching this crap.”

He snatches the remote from Jeongguk's hand and Jeongguk twists toward him. “What do
you mean?”

“Don't fill your head with this algorithm-based nonsense. It's just content, there to take up
space.” Taehyung uses the remote to type words into the search feature, which Jeongguk
rarely ever uses. “The human mind is limited, we can only focus on a few things at once. And
when your brain is filled up with this shit, there's no room for anything else. You just…
poof.”

“Poof?”

“Disappear,” Taehyung says. “Your overactive brain turns to mush.”

Jeongguk stares at the younger's profile, the unintentional pout of his lips and the curve of his
nose. “Wise words coming from a 20 year old,” he mumbles, amused and admiring.

“I'm an old soul,” Taehyung claims proudly. “Here.” He hands the remote back to Jeongguk.
Jeongguk looks at the screen and sees that he found the movie he was talking about. “Wanna
watch it?”

“Yeah, sure. I'll order the pizza.” When he goes to press play, Taehyung snatches the remote
from his hand again.

“No, don't multitask,” he protests, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. “Order the
pizza and then play it. You gotta respect it.”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue, lifting his ass to fetch the phone from his
pocket. He pulls up the food delivery app and Taehyung relaxes, dropping against the couch
and sliding diagonally until their shoulders are pressed together.

Jeongguk orders a large pizza, which he fills with both of their chosen toppings. They seem
to share many of the same favorites, save for Taehyung's more outlandish picks (anchovies
and pineapple do not go together, ever). Once the order is placed, Jeongguk lowers his phone
and Taehyung takes it from him, leaning over to set it on the floor.

“No distractions,” he reminds. “Ready?”

Jeongguk nods, bending to grab his soju and take another slow sip. Taehyung clicks play and
he gasps when he sees the running time.

“Four hours?”

“Shh,” Taehyung hisses. “It's worth it, I promise.”

Jeongguk doesn't think he's ever sat through anything that long, at least nothing that wasn't
chopped up into separate episodes. Still, if it's the kid's favorite, he'll give it a shot.

The movie starts off with music and credits, the actors and crew named before the film begins
as he knows was customary in the past. He wonders why he couldn't just order the food
during the first few minutes of screentime if they're only credits, but when he mutters as
much, Taehyung slaps his knee and playfully tells him to shut up. Jeongguk smiles.

The pizza arrives forty minutes later, and Taehyung pauses the movie as Jeongguk stands to
answer the buzzer.
“What do you think so far?” he asks.

“The main character sucks,” Jeongguk says, pressing the button to let the deliveryperson into
the building. “She's rude and selfish and kinda mean.”

“Oh, she's really mean,” Taehyung giggles. “That's the point. They're on the wrong side of
history. She's a horrible person.”

Jeongguk hums, not really getting why they should watch something like that. He crosses his
arms and looks at Taehyung across the room. Taehyung has a cheeky smile on his face, his
feet propped up on the couch and his skinny arms wrapped around his legs.

The doorbell rings and Jeongguk opens the door. He thanks the pizzaboy as he takes the box,
glancing all the way up to his chin before he closes the door. His heart is beating a little fast,
blood pumping through his veins.

“Pizza!” Taehyung cheers, sliding off the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor. He pats the
space in front of him eagerly, opening the box when Jeongguk sets it down.

Jeongguk can't help but smile as he watches him, leaning back to grab the remote and resume
the movie. With his other hand, he reaches for his drink.

They eat in comfortable silence, the TV screen lighting up the empty living room. The movie
continues on a similar note, the protagonist evil and spoiled and all-around unlikable. It
becomes clear why Taehyung enjoys the film, though, the quality of the production being
much higher than what Jeongguk's used to watching passively on his laptop.

“I like this guy,” he murmurs, chewing on some pizza crust. The protagonist's presumed love
interest is saving the day, as he's already done several times throughout the film. “Don't get
why he likes the girl so much, but he's cool.”

“Oh, he's so cool,” Taehyung mumbles, wiping his chin. He's a messy eater, getting tomato
sauce all over his mouth.

Jeongguk stands up to fetch him some napkins and catches a glimpse of his smiling face.
“Ah, so you like him, huh?” he teases, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard
where he keeps the napkins. “Don't tell me he's the reason you like this movie so much.”

“No,” Taehyung denies, giggly. Jeongguk grins as he refills the forgotten soju glass. “There
are other things I like about it. The complex characters, the beautiful dresses, the moody
soundtrack—”

“—the guy with the mustache—”

“No!” Taehyung yells again, laughing, and Jeongguk's smile widens into a grin. He carries
the napkins and soju back to their little spot on the floor, holding the drink out to the
neighbor. “Thanks. And no, seriously, I don't like it just because of Clark Gable's character,
that would be so shallow of me.”
Jeongguk glances at Taehyung as he sits down, an eyebrow raised. Taehyung bursts into
another fit of laughter, knocking back his drink.

“So what is it about him?” Jeongguk asks, reaching for another slice of pizza and leaning
back against the foot of the couch. “Is it the swagger? The sharp suits? The manly facial
hair?”

“It's how much love he has to give,” Taehyung huffs, setting down the empty glass and
dropping back against the edge of the couch like Jeongguk. He turns his head to look at him
and Jeongguk lowers his fingers from where he'd been rubbing at his upper lip, which will
probably never grow that kind of mustache. “And how much he loves Scarlett. How openly
he does it.”

Jeongguk stares at Taehyung, who's staring right back, blue hair falling over his eyes. His
cheeks are a little flushed under the dim light, a small smile on his lips, and before he knows
it, Jeongguk is stretching an arm over the seat of the couch behind his head and leaning in.
Taehyung tilts his head back, leaning toward him as well, and brushes the back of his fingers
over Jeongguk's chest, down the line of his buttons.

Of course, the movie chooses that moment to kick into action, the unlikable protagonist
screaming suddenly as she's attacked on the road. Taehyung lifts his head and Jeongguk is
forced to shift back so they don't butt foreheads. He hates the main character a little more.

“Oh, you should watch this,” Taehyung says, sitting up. “This part is totally fucked up.”

Jeongguk curses his terrible luck and sits back, too, taking a bite of the pizza. He can't even
be mad, though, not when he's just confirmed that the neighbor is interested in kissing him.

He breaks into a giddy grin and chows down the rest of his slice.

By the time the pizza is gone and the first soju bottle empty, Taehyung is cuddled under his
arm on the couch, hiccuping. Now that he's slightly past tipsy, he's excitedly narrating the
film and providing thoughtful commentary on the characters, the setting, and the problematic
aspects of the film. Jeongguk thinks he's smart, and so fucking cute.

“Hyung, can you get me a refill?” Taehyung mumbles when he accidentally tries to drink
from an empty glass. He knocks his hand back against Jeongguk's chest, shaking the cup.

Jeongguk blinks down and carefully extracts the glass from his fingers. “No more drinking.”

“But why,” the younger whines, tilting his head back against Jeongguk's shoulder. “It's the
weekend. We're having fun.”

“And that's why we gotta know when to stop,” Jeongguk tells him, patting the side of his arm
to appease him. “You'll wake up with a nasty hangover tomorrow if you continue.”

“I don't get hangovers,” Taehyung mumbles, though he turns back to face the screen. “I just
forget stuff.”

“And isn't that worse?" Jeongguk says. “To have good memories wiped out like that?”
Taehyung goes silent, apparently thinking it over. Content, Jeongguk stares at the top of his
blue head, still brushing his fingers over his arm. He slips the empty glass between his thighs.

“It is worse,” Taehyung agrees a few minutes later. “I just have a hard time controlling
myself around shiny new things.”

Two hours later, when the movie ends, Jeongguk glances down to find Taehyung sniffling,
his cheeks wet. When he chuckles, squeezing his shoulder, Taehyung looks up with a pout
that dissolves when he sees Jeongguk's face.

“You're crying, too!” he gasps, twisting around and cupping Jeongguk's cheek.

“Am not.”

“There are tears in your eyes.”

“There aren't,” he grins. Taehyung huffs, and Jeongguk tilts his head, peeling away from the
hand.

“I know the truth,” Taehyung murmurs with a smile. He shifts on the couch and Jeongguk
lifts his head when he feels a weight climb over his lap, facing him. They're very close and
Jeongguk can feel Taehyung's ass settle over his thighs. He doesn't know what to do with his
hands, so he leaves them limp at his sides. “Her character development was amazing, wasn't
it? She finally thinks of other people by the end of it.”

“She still kinda sucks, though. The mustache guy deserved better,” he licks his lips, swallows
thickly.

“But he's got some serious issues, too. Everyone's got issues, no one's perfect,” Taehyung
murmurs, shifting forward. Jeongguk fears he might pop a boner if Taehyung keeps moving
across his lap. He slips his hand over Taehyung's folded calf to hold him still.

“Except you,” he says.

“Me?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his lips. When he leans closer,
Jeongguk holds very still. “You think I'm perfect?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut.

Taehyung coos and brushes his nose against Jeongguk's. Jeongguk can smell the alcohol in
his breath, feel the heat of his fingers hook over his shoulders.

He wants to kiss him so bad, his bones aching for it, but a little voice in his head argues that
it's a bad idea to kiss a hot drunk person, especially one who blacks out. Taehyung isn't sober
enough to make good decisions, is seeing him through drunk goggles again. If he were sober,
he'd never be here, about to kiss him.

He doesn't move in, squeezing Taehyung's calf.

“You should stop,” he says.

Taehyung inches back, furrowing his brows. “Why?”

"'Cause you're drunk.”

Jeongguk thinks that explains his point, not wanting his first kiss ever to be something
Taehyung later forgets or, fuck, regrets, but it looks a little like that freaks out the younger,
who immediately slides off his lap.

“Sorry, did you not want that?” Taehyung looks embarrassed, his hair all over the place. “Too
much?”

“No...” How should he word this? He can't tell the truth, that he's inexperienced and insecure
and doesn't know how to kiss. Not sexy. Total turn-off. “It's fine, I just wasn't expecting it.”

“Right.” Taehyung's a bright red color. “I'm sorry. I should go?”

Jeongguk cringes. “Okay.”

“Um, how much do I owe you for the pizza?” Taehyung asks, stepping over the box on the
way out.

“Nothing,” Jeongguk says, following after him and trying to pinpoint the right moment to
grab his hand. It's been such a good night and he's ruining it, ruined everything again. He
looks down at the floor, stopping as the neighbor slows at the door.

He should say something. He's being so fucking weird.

“It's okay, we don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with,” Taehyung says, his
voice turning gentle.

It's honestly humiliating that he has to take care of him when Jeongguk's the older one.
Almost as humiliating as Taehyung thinking Jeongguk doesn't want to kiss him.

He nods wordlessly.

“I'll see you around, okay?”

Jeongguk nods again.

Taehyung waits for another second, perhaps expecting that kiss after all, then steps out.
“Thanks for the food,” he says. “This was fun. Keep the other bottle.”

Jeongguk nods and watches him walk across to his apartment. He pulls the keys from his
jeans and fumbles with the lock a little before getting in, turning back to wave.

When he's alone again, Jeongguk drops his forehead against the door with a frustrated groan.

Was that the right call? Should he just have gone for it?

He might've missed his only chance.

He's so fucking bad at this.

A few days later, Jeongguk hears from Taehyung again. It's an exciting and surprising
development, considering he'd convinced himself the neighbor hated him for rejecting him
during their movie date and would never speak to him again.

Taehyung must be headed to work soon, because it's just past six o'clock when he rings the
doorbell. He's in a big windbreaker; doesn't have the mystery suitcase, though.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I realized something important,” he says, smiling. He pulls his phone from his back pocket
and holds it out to Jeongguk. “I don't have your number.”

Jeongguk takes the phone and dials himself. He does his best to keep a straight face--he has a
grand total of about two updated contacts on his phone. “And what are you gonna do with
it?”

“Text you all the time, obviously.” Taehyung leans sideways against the door and runs a hand
through his hair. “Maybe send you some cute selfies, if I feel up for it.”

Jeongguk purses his lips, handing the phone back as his own vibrates in the pocket of his
sleep pants. “Okay. You can have my number, then.”

Taehyung snickers and thumbs something into the screen, looking up when Jeongguk pulls
out his device. Once the screen is unlocked, he takes it from Jeongguk's hand. Jeongguk
watches as he creates a contact card for himself, naming it Tae with a blue heart emoji. He
hands the phone back.

“And you have to text me, too.”

“Text you what?”

“Restaurant food, random puppies on the street, I don't know,” he shrugs. Jeongguk feels his
stomach drop. “Whatever you're thinking. Some people express themselves better over text.”

“Are you saying I don't express myself well over speech?” Jeongguk asks, smiling weakly.

Taehyung gives him a look, then reaches out and tickles him under the chin. “You do, when
you choose to say what's on your mind,” he croons. “I'm still getting to know you.”
Jeongguk twists his head away, burning.

He should be telling him that he doesn't want to know. That there are no puppy pictures to
send because he doesn't go outside.

He slips his phone into his pocket and shifts behind the door. “Are you going to work?”

“Yes, actually, how'd you know?”

Jeongguk panics for a moment before one of the alarmed voices in his head comes to his
rescue. “You said your work shift was sometime after five,” he explains, swallowing
nervously. Fuck him if the guy found out Jeongguk watches him through the peephole.

“Oh, right, yes. My unofficial work shift,” Taehyung chuckles, blissfully unaware. “I don't
think you could call it a job, I don't make that much money from it. It's mostly just for fun.”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows. “What do you do?”

“I sell the stuff I make,” Taehyung says, tucking his hair behind an ear. “Cheap jewelry,
mostly. Some hair accessories. Trinkets I make. There's a bunch of us who do this around
Myeongdong.”

Jeongguk blinks, surprised. He can't think of a more extroverted thing to do. “Wow.”

Taehyung smiles, pushing himself off the door frame and stepping back. “Anyway. I should
get going or all the good spots will get taken. Text me, okay?”

“Okay,” Jeongguk agrees.

The neighbor shoots him another smile before leaving.

How to text normies to make it seem like you have a life?

[+8 -14] How are you at photoshop? Have you tried asking r/PhotoshopRequest?

[+17 -2] I'm assuming you're attractive since this person is clearly interested in you. Send
them selcas whenever they ask for pictures and you're good.

[+10 -11] seriously man, if you have to ask for advice before making every move, it's not
gonna work out irl.
[+2 -21] your pathetic.

[+9 -3] I'm a girl, PM me and I'll help you write your messages!

Jeongguk seriously considers gg5267's offer to help him craft approved texts, but the other
responses make him hold back. That's right, that is pathetic.

The problem with having Taehyung's number is that even though he wants to talk to him,
badly, he doesn't want to bother him or seem needy. Nobody likes desperate people.

As luck would have it, Taehyung sends him a text the very next day. At night, while he's out
doing his normie hustle.

Hi :P

Received 9:34 PM

It's honestly sad how happy the simple message makes Jeongguk. He speaks to people on
message boards all the time, but it feels different to receive a proper SMS from a human
being he knows in the flesh. It validates his existence, on some level. Confirms he exists.

Hey. Still working?

Delivered 9:35 PM

Yeah.

Shopping street is busy tonight, already sold 3 earrings!

Received 9:35 PM

Wow! That's awesome.

Delivered 9:35 PM

I thought if I didn't text you, you never would.

So might as well now.

 Received 9:37 PM

Are you offering to send me selfies?

Delivered 10:08 PM

No?

Received 10:08 PM

Zzzzz

Delivered 10:08 PM

Hmmmm.. ok

Received 10:09 PM

A few minutes later, Jeongguk receives a video instead of a picture, Taehyung's serious face
sideways, then moving at different angles. He presses a finger into his cheek, smiles coyly,
then moves the camera further back to show he's standing against a brick wall, illuminated by
a street lamp.

Since you're so desperate to see me :P

Received 10:15 PM

You're so fucking pretty.

Thanks for the fap material.

Delivered 10:17 PM

Gahahaha omg...
 What!

Received 10:19 PM

Don't act like you didn't know.

Delivered 10:19 PM

They keep texting after that, until Taehyung tells him he's taking the train home. He has to
wake up early for school, he says, or else he'd stop by to hang out with Jeongguk. They keep
messaging for hours after the younger's back home, exchanging blurry pictures in their
identical dark rooms.

Taehyung was right about texting making it easier to express himself. Jeongguk can flirt back
without feeling the anxious press over his chest, without worrying about what he sounds like
while he says what's on his mind.

He doesn't even open his computer that night.

Could it really be this simple?

Chapter End Notes

moodboard
 Love/Paranoia
Chapter Summary

Are you sure it was nothing? Cause it made me feel like dying inside.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

[+9 -0] OP we haven't heard from you in a few days, any updates?

[+4 -3] I think OP crossed over to the dark side.

[+1 -2] Another fallen neet (T-T) R.I.P. brother

[+3 -2] Shouldn't we be congratulating them on successfully attaining normiedom?

[+1 -4] Who said he did? It's a little too soon to assume anything.

It's the first week of April, pollen from the trees irritating Jeongguk's eyes and making him
sneeze. He should probably keep the windows shut so outdoor dust doesn't keep coming in,
but spring's been turning the days warmer and the AC's broken, so that's all he can do.

These days, he's been texting 9A nearly every day. The guy is unexpectedly weird, goes out
every night without fail to sell his shit to strangers in Myeongdong, and Jeongguk finds
himself inexplicably drawn in. Taehyung is cool and beautiful, creative and soft all at once.
Jeongguk watches and hears him have a life through the walls of his apartment and, more
than anything, wishes he could tag along.

And then he's given a chance to, when the neighbor invites him to come hang out with his big
group of friends again. They're going to a cherry blossom festival, he says, and he really
wants Jeongguk to come.

Jeongguk's knee-jerk reaction is a visceral no , but then he remembers their talks on memes
and toes, how Taehyung sends him sleepy live reactions of shitty videos Jeongguk texts him
at 2 a.m.
Taehyung is a lifeline dangling in front of his face.

Jeongguk wants to take it.

To test whether he's ready to re-enter society, Jeongguk decides to try to visit the 7-Eleven
across the street. That convenience store was one of the last places he visited two years ago,
before he started staying at home. It could be an easy first step back into normie life.

Having bathed and washed his hair the night before to prepare, Jeongguk doesn't have to sniff
himself to make sure he's presentable in the daytime. He hums a tune as he brushes his teeth,
eyeing his reflection in the mirror and making a mental note to buy some sort of cream for his
problem skin. And maybe some cologne, too.

When it's time to leave, he hesitates at the front door to map out exactly what he needs to do:
walk to the elevator, exit the building, cross the street, enter the shop, look for the skincare
section. It'll be quick, and nobody will see him. He pulls out his airpods from the case, slips
one in each ear and chooses a playlist on his phone. Something soothing and distracting, but
not too loud.

Gentle voice humming Japanese in his ears, he's armed and all set to go.

He steps out of the apartment, glances at Taehyung's door before continuing down the hall.
His heart is racing, but it feels good to have a goal, to be going somewhere.

Feels like relief.

When the elevator arrives, there's already an older lady inside of it. He keeps his head down
and avoids eye contact as he steps in, staring at the numbers on the display. As soon as they
reach 1, he steps out first, rushing ahead.

Filled with momentum, he walks to the front door of the building and doesn't think twice
before pushing it open. The bright light hits him first, the sun high in the sky. Jeongguk
squints as he looks up, shielding his eyes with a hand. Sunlight. He closes his eyes, taking a
deep breath of fresh air.

“Excuse me.”

The voice startles Jeongguk, loud enough to be heard over the soothing music he's playing.
He jumps, moving aside as the old lady from the elevator walks out of the building first. The
wheel of her grocery cart nearly rolls over his foot as she passes with a grumble.

"S-Sorry,” he mumbles, probably too low for her to hear.

He steps out more slowly now, patting himself down to double-check he has his keys. When
the door slams shut behind him, he feels a brief, sharp pang of regret.

The convenience store is right across the street, though, only a couple dozen meters away.

He can do this.
Swallowing thickly, Jeongguk steps onto the sidewalk and looks both ways before attempting
to cross the street. A bike still zooms in from nowhere and nearly hits him, swerving
violently to avoid him. Jeongguk gasps and jumps back and the cyclist rings a bell frantically,
yelling at him to, “use the crosswalk, asshole!”

He stumbles back, rattled, and reluctantly walks to the end of the sidewalk where the
pedestrian crossing is. He mutes the music so he can be more aware of his surroundings, and
flinches at every siren and noise coming from the street as he crosses to the other side.

The automatic doors of 7-Eleven open when he steps in front of them, the air conditioner
blasting at full force despite the mild weather. It must be lunchtime rush hour, because the
store is packed to the brim, office workers and college students crowding the fridges.

Jeongguk avoids those and looks for an empty aisle, but there seem to be people everywhere
in the shop. This is the worst part about living near the university. Everything's always so
fucking crowded.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles when he tries to walk past a girl in the grooming aisle who doesn't
automatically move to let him through. He catches a glimpse of a box of maxi pads in her
hand before looking down again, embarrassed. She begrudgingly lets him through, and he
speedwalks down the aisle to get away and stop disturbing her.

What did he need again? He can't remember. Should've checked the time before coming,
maybe stopped by at 2 or 3 a.m. when everyone with a job or classes is already sleeping. But
then the attention would be all on him, which is potentially worse. The cashier would
probably think he's stealing something, with his luck. He certainly looks suspicious.

Stopping at the end of the aisle, Jeongguk looks around, trying to focus despite his racing
heartbeat. Skincare— Turning around, he finds some products that look correct right next to
the deodorants, where he's been standing. There are too many options to choose from, all of
them similar, and the girl carrying the maxi pads is still staring at him—he sees it from the
corner of his eye.

Jeongguk grabs the first exfoliating cream he spots and walks away, quickly rounding the
corner. He technically needs toilet paper, too, but that's way too embarrassing to buy in
person. He'll buy it online.

Right now, he just needs to get out.

There's a short line at the checkout counter. He practices what he'll say to the cashier in his
head as he waits for his turn. Hi. Yes, just this, please. Thanks. Have a nice day. Once it's his
turn, though, all he does is hand over the product, stumbling over a mumbled hello. The
cashier swipes his card.

“It was declined,” she says, holding it back out. He looks up, panicked, and the cashier chews
on some gum and pops a pink bubble. “Want me to try again?”

“Um… Yeah. Please.” Jeongguk pulls out his wallet and searches frantically for some cash,
hyperconscious of the line forming behind him, the curious eyes watching the scene. Holy
shit, he's such a fucking idiot.

Luckily, the universe doesn't entirely hate him, as he finds a bill that covers the balance
crushed up with some change. Handing it over to the cashier with a mumbled apology, he
keeps his head down and sinks fingernails into his palms as she gathers the change. When she
hands it over, he drops it all into the tip jar and bolts out.

There's a knot forming in his throat, a bubble of humiliated tears threatening to burst. That
was so fucking horrible and embarrassing, much worse than he imagined. The real world
sucks.

He sprints to the crosswalk, running to make the last few seconds of the green light.

Once he's back in the building and finally in the safety of his apartment, he slams the door
shut and kicks off his shoes, vowing to never leave again.

He should call—email—his bank about the declined transaction, but just the thought of doing
that now gives him extreme anxiety. What would they say? What if he has to call his father?
What if he doesn't answer?

Jeongguk will deal with it later. Or not.

Bitterly, he pulls out the product he just bought. At least there's that.

But upon closer inspection, he makes a horrifying discovery.

The cream isn't for acne, it's for fucking feet.

Hey, I can't make it to the cherry blossom festival.

Delivered 9:43 PM

Aw :(

Why not? :(

Received 10:06 PM
 I have a doctor's appointment.

Delivered 10:07 PM

Oh no! Are you sick?

Received 10:07 PM

No.

*dentists appointment

I have tooth pain and that's the only slot they had.

Delivered 10:09 PM

Ah ok.

Maybe we can hang out afterward? What time is your appointment?

Received 10:09 PM

I don't know how long it'll take.

Delivered 10:22 PM

Ok.

Lmk when you're done and come join us!

Received 10:24 PM

Sure.

Delivered 10:58 PM
It's sunny and clear on the day of the festival, the temperatures in the mid-twenties for the
first time that season. Jeongguk has to keep his windows open because of the damn broken
AC, can hear birds singing outside, celebrating the warm weather.

In the afternoon, Taehyung sends him a slew of pictures from the cherry blossom festival.
There are flowering cactuses, ponds of fish, and colorful plants all inside a giant glass dome.
A guy with a familiar head of orange hair points at some purple flowers in one shot, his eyes
squeezed shut in laughter. A larger blond crouches next to some water in another picture,
peacefully gazing down at orange koi fish.

These are Taehyung's friends, the ones Jeongguk caught a glimpse of on the night of his
birthday but didn't join, and he can't help but notice all their different hair colors, how trendy
and alternative they are.

Jeongguk wouldn't have fit in.

Taehyung sends him more pictures from a field lined with cherry blossom trees in full bloom,
hoards of people taking photos by each one.

Taehyung and his friends pose together in front of a large tree, a cluster of different hair
colors and smiles, and Taehyung holds the camera right in the center, his grin warm and
genuine.

He doesn't even care that Jeongguk's not there. He's having plenty of fun, Jeongguk thinks
bitterly.

Wow it's so crowded.

Delivered 3:18 PM

A few minutes later, Taehyung sends him a selfie of himself standing alone among the low
branches of a tree, the pinkish white buds framing his blue hair and shoulders. Wish you were
with us, the caption of the picture reads, and Jeongguk feels like the biggest asshole in the
history of humanity.
He stares at that picture for a long time, wondering how he ended up having this kid texting
him at all. He certainly doesn't deserve it.

Yeah everyone's here!

How's your appointment going?

We're grabbing some food now :P

Received 5:11 PM

Jeongguk forces himself not to answer that message to give the impression that he's still at
the dentist.

He already has a whole cover story planned out: he'll tell Taehyung that he had a cavity filled.
It was the only feasible excuse he found through a bit of research. He needs to know what to
say if Taehyung asks him why he couldn't make it.

He leaves the phone on the couch and walks to the bedroom to grab his laptop and headset.

About an hour later, Jeongguk gets another text from Taehyung while trying to level up
through quickplay. You done? He stares at the phone screen in the dark and wants to respond,
badly, but he's worried that if he tells the truth, Taehyung will ask him to join them for dinner
or something equally unbearable.

Jeongguk can't go outside. Not again. Fuck outside.

So he doesn't answer, simply goes back to the game.

It's not until an hour later, when he levels up and gets a brand new skin for McCree, that he
sets aside his laptop and picks up the phone. He types out a shitty response.

I'm out now

Heading home

Delivered 7:49 PM

He waits for a reply, but this time, it's Taehyung who takes a while to respond. Jeongguk
waited too long. Flaked one too many times. Isn't worth the effort.

But then a reply does come and he feels like an idiot:

 We're at my friend's place chilling.

Come??? Please??

Received 8:23 PM

Taehyung's not even mad.

Overwhelmed by all of the excuses he's made today, overcome with guilt and shame for lying
to the neighbor repeatedly when he's been nothing but nice, Jeongguk decides to just tell the
truth.

Nah, too lazy.

Also nervous about meeting your friends lol

Delivered 8:26 PM

Taehyung assures him that his friends are cool, will absolutely love him, and they'll all get
along beautifully. A few of them are your age, he adds, which piques Jeongguk's curiosity
slightly, but not enough.

Meet the attractive, artsy college students from the pictures? His self-esteem doesn't need that
blow.

Taehyung sends him a string of crying emojis when Jeongguk tells him he can't come, and
the conversation fizzles out from there.

Taehyung has plenty of friends already. He doesn't need him. Doesn't care if he comes or not.
It's better this way. Taehyung can have a good time and enjoy his freshman year and
Jeongguk doesn't have to embarrass himself in front of him. Much better this way.

Jeongguk misses college so fucking much that night.

The week following his absence at the festival, Jeongguk doesn't get a single first text from
the neighbor. It's shitty, because he knows that every time he turns down an invite, the more
chances he gives the guy to forget that he exists. He knows how this goes—it's what
happened with his former roommates, everyone he met in high school and college. Slowly
but surely, everyone forgets you exist.

And then Taehyung texts him on Friday.

My friends are coming over for a Harry Potter marathon tonight.

Please come!

Received 11:27 AM

Please come, please come, please come. It sounds like a demand. It sounds like if he doesn't,
Taehyung won't invite him out again. This might be Jeongguk's final chance. He's fucking
terrified that it might be, so he says okay. He'll come. Please yes. Whatever you say. Just keep
inviting me.

When dinnertime rolls around, Jeongguk is back in the bathroom, the room of doom.

He tries to tame his overgrown hair in front of the mirror, combing it with his fingers and
smoothing it down with sweaty palms. He's wearing a Sword Art Online black graphic tee,
which he thinks makes his shoulders look big in a good way. Of course, he drips toothpaste
on it as he's brushing his teeth, so it ends up getting a big water stain on the collar.

He hears people arrive as he's scrubbing furiously at it, the volume of voices out in the hall
swelling, then flatlining again when the front door closes.

They're here. Taehyung's friends. Holy shit.

Jeongguk doesn't want to be late, so he turns off the lights and steps out of the bathroom.
Don't worry about it, it'll be fine, he chants in his head as he collects his keys and phone, the
bottle of soju Taehyung left behind the other day.

The trip to the convenience store didn't go as planned and he's still fucking useless, but he
can at least do this. Go visit Taehyung next door, the pretty kid who seems to want to kiss
him. The others are just extraneous. Taehyung is all he cares about.

Outside, Jeongguk rings the doorbell to 9A.

When the door swings open, it's not to Taehyung, but to an elfin orange-haired guy Jeongguk
easily recognizes from the pictures Taehyung sent and the time they all stood at his door. The
guy is very attractive, and he's wearing a leather jacket.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Jeongguk swallows, smiling weakly. “Is Taehyung, um..?”

The guy twists around. “Taehyung, there's someone at the door for you.”

Jeongguk shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, switching the soju bottle to his free hand. He
hears a thump of feet on hardwood, followed by the sound of slippers padding over quickly.

Taehyung is in a blue buttoned shirt that hangs loosely from his frame, a metal headband in
his hair. “You came!” he gasps, grabbing the orange-leather man by the shoulders and pulling
him aside, waving Jeongguk in. “Come in, baby.”

“Is that him?” someone calls from the living room.

Jeongguk sees there are two people on Taehyung's small red couch, one with blond hair and
the other with his back to the door, feet propped over the blond's lap.

“Yes, this is my neighbor,” Taehyung answers, ushering Jeongguk in and taking the soju
bottle from him, handing it over to the guy who opened the door. “Jeongguk, this is Jimin.
Those are Hoseok and Yoongi.”

The one with dark hair twists on the couch and offers him a toothy grin. The pale blond looks
serious but waves, too. The one with orange hair walks back several steps to take another
look at Jeongguk's face, his small eyes widening.

It's obvious that Taehyung's told them something about him.

Jeongguk looks at the floor as he steps further in, bowing politely at the strangers and toeing
off his shoes. Taehyung walks past him and crosses the room to one of the two open windows
in the living room. There are red candles everywhere, the orange glow of flames flicking
gently under the springtime breeze. Taehyung climbs on the ledge of a window, looking like
he's retaking a position when he pulls out a vape from the breast pocket of his shirt.

“We ordered KFC,” he says, inhaling deeply, then blowing out vapor.

“We're watching Harry Potter,” the orange-leather one, Jimin, adds as he walks into the living
room.

“I told him,” Taehyung says. “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.”

“Come sit,” the one with dark hair encourages from the couch, sliding to the middle to free
up the armrest seat. Jeongguk smiles in weak gratitude and walks over.

“Is Jin coming? Namjoon?” the blond one asks.

“Nah, they said they're busy,” Taehyung answers. Jeongguk looks over and sees Taehyung is
already looking his way, exhaling another wave of white vapor through his nose. He smiles
when their eyes meet.

“I'll get us five glasses.” The one called Jimin walks to the kitchen.

The guy next to Jeongguk reaches out and grabs the open green bottle on the table, taking a
swig right from the top. “Ugh, this is awful,” he complains, twisting around and making a
funny face at Jeongguk. Jeongguk chuckles quietly, shrugging.

“Is that what we were drinking the other day?” Taehyung asks from the window. “It is, isn't
it?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk confirms, glancing over. Taehyung's eyes are twinkling red.

“You drank with a new friend and didn't invite your best friend?” the leather-orange one
pouts, coming back with several glasses balanced between both hands. It looks like he's
struggling, so the brunette beside Jeongguk stands up to help him, taking half of the load and
setting it down safely on the table.

“I was bonding with my neighbor, can't invite you to everything, Chim,” Taehyung says with
a grin, propping a foot in front of the radiator and bouncing his knee. He leans back, shoulder
on the window wall, and slides the other foot against the angle of the frame, spreading out.
“We watched a movie at his place. It was nice, wasn't it, Jeonggukie?”

Jeongguk swallows, nodding timidly.

“I'm jealous,” the orange guy pouts, picking up the soju bottle and pouring the alcohol into
the lined glasses, splashing liquid on the coffee table as he moves between them. Jeongguk
immediately recognizes the move. “I don't know if I'm ready to share you with a boyfriend
yet, Tae. I just found you, little freshie.”

“Alright, no one's sharing anyone,” a deep voice mutters from the end of the couch. The
blond one. He yawns. “Can we just get started? I have a lecture at eight.”

“Ah, you didn't drop that?” the one by Jeongguk, Hoseok, laments sympathetically.

The two beside him start talking about college classes, something about music, and the
orange-haired one on the floor starts handing out the booze. When he gives Jeongguk a glass,
he winks at him, and Jeongguk notices he's got makeup on his eyes.

Jimin stands in front of Taehyung when he gives him the alcohol, propping both hands on his
hips, his back to Jeongguk. Jeongguk hears him tell Taehyung he isn't supposed to drink it all
in one go, that this is all he gets for the night. He must be older than Taehyung, then, just like
Jeongguk. Taehyung's best friend.

Taehyung nods like a good boy, sips the soju carefully and grins at his friend. He then lifts
the e-cig to his lips, his eyes flicking over to Jeongguk from under his mess of blue hair.
Jeongguk looks away quickly, his heart pounding.

The fried chicken arrives not too long afterward, the movie already started but still in the
exposition about the criminal on the loose. Jimin goes answer the door, eagerly, and
Jeongguk can't help but notice—unnecessarily—that the guy clearly has no problems doing
that. Jeongguk tries not to envy him and fails.

“Who wants to share a bucket with me?” the guy asks as he crosses the room, plastic bags of
food dangling from his arms.

“I do,” Taehyung says from the window, standing up and slipping the Juul into his shirt
pocket. He joins them at the end of the coffee table, and Jeongguk watches him wiggle in
visible excitement as Jimin sets the buckets down with some napkins.

“Jeongguk and I are sharing another,” the guy by Jeongguk, Hoseok, announces and reaches
out, grabbing a bucket of chicken and fitting it in the crack of space between their legs. “Let's
eat it while it's hot.” He peels back the paper covering.

Jeongguk is initially worried about taking food he didn't pay for, but it smells good and
everyone starts eating and the guy beside him keeps nudging his leg encouragingly. He
eventually picks up a drumstick, holding a hand underneath it to catch any crumbs that fall as
he eats. He isn't a particularly tidy guy. The blond one at the end of the couch hands him a
napkin.

“Thanks,” Jeongguk mumbles, possibly too low.

He's seen all of the Harry Potter movies a few times over, so while the others watch the
screen, he finds his attention straying to the pair on the floor. The one with orange hair
giggles at every joke, nudges Taehyung beside him and leans over to whisper in his ear often.
Taehyung seems comfortable with that, wraps an arm around his shoulders whenever he leans
close. Sometimes it looks like his lips brush the guy's ear as he whispers, too—orange and
blue, fire and ice. They look good together.

Now that he sees how Taehyung is around his friends, Jeongguk understands why he's been
so friendly and forward with him. Taehyung is clearly very affectionate and touchy with
everyone around him. If he just moved to Seoul, he can't have known these people for more
than a couple of months, either, and yet they already have movie nights and traditions like
they're childhood best friends.

And then there's the clear common denominator between them— they're all hot and
fashionable, the types of kids who have tattoos and piercings and know how to dance.
They're in college, leading normal, exciting lives, and Jeongguk doesn't fucking fit in.

Jeongguk stands up, knocking back the soju in his glass and walking to the kitchen to go find
some water. He came here to spend quality time with Taehyung, but all he's been doing is
sitting around in silence as he watches him touch some other, much hotter, guy. It's not
exactly fun, not great for his self-esteem, and it feels a lot like a push into the friendzone.

Does Taehyung not like him like that?

Jeongguk stops in front of the sink, filling his glass with a sigh.
“How do you feel about the movie?” a deep voice whispers, approaching quietly. Taeyhung
sidles up to the sink, leaning sideways against the counter and twirling a strand of blue hair
around a finger. “Is it boring?”

“No, I like it,” Jeongguk mutters back. “I've seen it a bunch of times.”

“Me too. It's my favorite.”

Jeongguk snorts, glancing over. “You said Gone With the Wind was your favorite.”

“Ah, I did say that.” Taehyung breaks into a grin and presses fingers over his lips. Jeongguk
raises a puzzled eyebrow and takes a sip of the soju-laced water, turning around to lean
against the sink. “Gone With the Wind isn't actually my favorite. I brought it up because it
sounds smarter.”

Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows, then laughs incredulously. That's so weirdly self-conscious,
like something Jeongguk might do. Not a hot, popular guy like Taehyung.

“I'm sorry, I know that's bad.” Taehyung laughs, adjusting his tiara.

“Why would you care about my opinion?”

“Because I want you to like me,” Taehyung whispers back, stepping closer. He slips both
arms around Jeongguk, hugging him from the side, and Jeongguk's chuckles waver, his heart
rate picking up. He looks at the neighbor's pretty face and wispy blue hair up close and thinks
this is when they kiss. All he's gotta do is lean in.

“Guys, are you two making out in the kitchen?” someone calls out from the living room. It
sounds like the orange-leather friend.

Taehyung giggles and props his chin on Jeongguk's shoulder. Jeongguk exhales shakily, both
upset and relieved.

Upset at the relief.

They still don't move for a minute. Taehyung drops his forehead against his shoulder and
laughs softly.

“Is he really just your friend?” Jeongguk asks, keeping his voice light and teasing. “Personal
bodyguard? Professional cockblocker?”

Taehyung takes that as a joke and laughs again. “Let's go watch,” he whispers, biting
Jeongguk's shoulder through his shirt before standing straight. He tugs Jeongguk away from
the counter by the waist. “Bring your water.”

Jeongguk reluctantly follows him back out into the living room, where the orange guy on the
floor is leaning back against the brunette's legs. He perks up when he spots Taehyung, pats
the spot right beside him on the rug. Leading the way, Taehyung walks over and sinks beside
him, then holds out an arm and grabs the leg of Jeongguk's jeans as he approaches, holding
onto him as he takes a seat on the couch.
Jeongguk sips the water, balances it over a knee.

As the movie continues, Jeongguk can't stop looking between the dyed heads on the floor
again. He thinks about Taehyung's relationship with the guy, wonders if they have some sort
of friends-with-benefits arrangement going on. The guy's clearly jealous, wants to exclude
Jeongguk and keep Taehyung all to himself.

Jeongguk wonders whether Taehyung's ever called him cute, tried to kiss him while they
watched one of his favorite movies.

On the floor, Taehyung scoots over until he's between both of Jeongguk's legs, shoulders
resting against the couch. Jeongguk stares at his hair, wondering what it feels like, until the
guy beside him, Hoseok, reaches out and scratches the top of Taehyung's head. Taehyung
rolls his head back to look, but the guy pulls his hand away right at that second, making it
look like Jeongguk was the one touching Taehyung.

Taehyung grins up at him, looking pleased, then faces forward again. He drops his head on
Jeongguk's knee. Jeongguk hesitantly reaches out and pulls a strand of blue hair from under
his tiara, smoothing it out between his thumb and forefinger.

When the movie nears its climax, the best friend lies across the floor with his head on
Taehyung's lap. He stretches an arm over Taehyung's leg, rubbing fingers over his jeans.

This feels like a direct attack at Jeongguk, like the best friend is marking his territory and
trying to point out that Jeongguk's not special.

Jeongguk frowns and swallows around the lump that rises in his throat, pure jealous and hurt.
He stops touching Taehyung's hair.

On the screen, the protagonist finally confronts the runaway killer, cornered by him and the
authority figure he trusted and was betrayed by. It's like a punch in the gut when Taehyung
laces fingers with Jimin, playing with his short fingers, letting him rotate the rings on his.

Jeongguk stands up, separating the two and stepping over Taehyung to walk away. He sets
the empty glass down on the table and storms down the hall to the front door, but slows down
as he thinks better of it, realizes how rude it would be to leave now with no explanation.

How could he ever face Taehyung again if he left now?

He slows down and turns, pushing open the bathroom door. He flicks on the lights and steps
in.

This, the bathroom, is familiar.

“Why the fuck did I come, what the hell am I doing here?” he hisses under his breath,
pressing his forehead against the closed door and squeezing his eyes shut. He starts breathing
harder, panic about how he's supposed to get out of there taking over. “I should've never
come, I shouldn't even be here.”
It's very simple, Taehyung is a hot college student and can have anyone he wants. He has
attractive friends who share his interests and worldview, do skinship with no hesitation, and
know how to flirt properly.

He's kind enough to invite strange, hermit neighbors to hangouts with his friends, but that's
all this will ever be. Jeongguk is boring and not hot, has nerdy interests and absolutely zero
game.

He can't even go to the fucking convenience store without fucking up and nearly pissing
himself. He's not even a real person.

“...Jeongguk?” There's a soft knock on the door, and Taehyung's hushed voice. “Are you
okay?”

Jeongguk breathes, then opens the door, forehead still pressed against the wood. He pulls
Taehyung in by the wrist, then smacks the light switch to turn off the lights in the bathroom,
washing them in darkness.

Once Taehyung is in, Jeongguk pushes him lightly against the door. The bathroom is pitch
black. Taehyung can't see the sweat or blotchy rashes on his skin, or the tears in his eyes.

“Jeongguk..?” he whispers.

Jeongguk drops his forehead on his shoulder, closing his eyes and breathing in unsteadily.
“I'm sorry, I have to go,” he whispers thickly.

“Can I ask why?” Taehyung whispers back. A warm hand slides over the small of Jeongguk's
back.

“No,” Jeongguk croaks. “Please don't ask.”

“Okay.” Taehyung runs his hand higher up Jeongguk's curved back, stopping at the opposite
shoulder in a loose hug. “Can I come with you?”

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut harder and swallows back a wave of tears. Is Taehyung an
angel, or a hallucination?

“Yes,” he whimpers. “Please do.”

Taehyung's fingers slip into the back of Jeongguk's hair, cool against his overheated scalp. He
massages Jeongguk's head for a moment and Jeongguk sags against him, turning his face to
push his nose against his neck. Taehyung hugs him close, other arm slipping around his
waist. Jeongguk is held.

He isn't sure which of them reaches for the doorknob in the dark, but the door opens and lets
in the sound and light of the TV in the living room. The movie is playing like nothing's the
matter, and Jeongguk doesn't hear anyone talking.

Taehyung squeezes his hand and tugs Jeongguk to the front door.
In Jeongguk's apartment, the relief he feels at being in a familiar environment again is so
intense he gets choked up. Taehyung shuts the door quietly, turning to Jeongguk, and
Jeongguk is quick to reach for the light switch to turn that off, too.

“What's wrong?” Taehyung whispers, stepping closer. He places a hand on Jeongguk's arm.
“What's wrong, baby?”

Jeongguk hugs him. Taehyung melts in his arms immediately, wrapping his own around
Jeongguk's shoulders and leaning into him. It's a warm hug, a nice, comforting one Jeongguk
hasn't received in years. Maybe not ever.

When he pulls back, Taehyung touches his face. His hand is warm, too, like it's radiating
energy. He brushes some hair from Jeongguk's brow.

“I don't know,” Jeongguk says honestly. “I don't know what's wrong with me.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, cups his cheek again in his warm, soft hand. He lifts Jeongguk's
chin ever so slightly, tipping his face up.

“You did nothing wrong,” he whispers, stroking Jeongguk's wet cheek.

“I don't know what to tell you.”

“You don't need to say anything,” Taehyung whispers.

I can't keep living like this, Jeongguk thinks. He circles a hand around Taehyung's wrist and
holds it there.

Taehyung leans in and presses his forehead against Jeongguk's. It's dark without the lights,
but there's some coming from the windows and Jeongguk's eyes are starting to adjust, which
means Taehyung's must be, too.

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away. Taehyung murmurs something and
turns his face gently by the cheek. Their noses brush and Taehyung nuzzles him, his soft,
warm lips brushing over Jeongguk's.

Jeongguk swallows thickly, not moving, and Taehyung does it again, pressing his lips over
Jeongguk's more squarely this time. His other hand comes up and cups Jeongguk's other
cheek, and he presses his lips over Jeongguk's a third time, gentle and slow.

Jeongguk parts his lips with a shuddery breath, snaking an arm around Taehyung's waist. He
feels the neighbor smile against his mouth, slip his fingers back to press over Jeongguk's hot
ears as he slots his lips over the part of Jeongguk's.

Taehyung leads the way, shows Jeongguk how to move his mouth with his in a way that
suggests that he knows. Jeongguk slowly returns it, kissing around Taehyung's plump upper
lip, feeling his bottom one get pulled in exchange. Taehyung pushes his fingers through the
sides of Jeongguk's head, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and Jeongguk melts into him,
tightening the arm he has around his waist.
 Jeongguk's always thought first kisses are meant to be awkward, but his is soft and deliberate,
like dipping your foot into a filled bathtub to test the water, sinking in deeper when you know
it's perfect.

When they pull away, both inching back to breathe, Jeongguk keeps Taehyung close. There
are countless thoughts racing through his brain, but for once, none of them are negative.

“Thank you,” is all he can muster.

Chapter End Notes

my twitter account is no more, but you can still reach me on cc

 The Moment
Chapter Summary

I can't just spend my whole lifetime wondering.

Chapter Notes

mood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

After his breakdown at the neighbor's hosted movie night, Jeongguk had fully expected
Taehyung to demand to know what his problem was. An extrovert like him would never
understand the plight of the introvert, every second of social interaction like pulling teeth.

But he couldn't possibly tell Taehyung how seeing him with his other friends made him feel;
jealous and insecure, worried he didn't like him as much as he liked his interesting, attractive
college buddies. He knows complaining about Taehyung's friends would be a surefire way to
get him to hate him, and what would he complain about in the first place? The friends were
perfectly nice. The issue is with him.

But Taehyung doesn't ask what Jeongguk's problem is, stays with him that night in his
bedroom until they both hear the door opening across the hall. His friends filter out, voices
chattering quietly, then the door slams shut and it's silence.

“I wonder where they think you are,” Jeongguk had whispered from his spot on the bed, a
little embarrassed.

“They probably think we're having some fun together,” Taehyung had answered playfully,
making kissy noises as he stood up from the desk chair. Jeongguk chuckled quietly as he
followed him to the door. “You good?” Taehyung had asked when he'd turned around at the
front door. “Want me to sleep over?”

“Nah, I'm alright. Thank you.”

Taehyung nodded and stepped out with a wink, and Jeongguk watched him unlock his
apartment through the open doorway instead of the peephole. It felt like a victory.
One he posted about on the NEET forum almost immediately, needing to tell someone about
how the neighbor helped him through a freakout and didn't even pressure him for information
he wasn't comfortable sharing yet. Taehyung probably had many questions about why
Jeongguk forced him to leave his party out of the blue, but he held back, stayed with him,
kissed him, no questions asked.

A fucking angel.

The next day, Jeongguk wakes up feeling motivated. It's Saturday. He should do something.
With the neighbor, preferably. That would be nice.

So he brushes his teeth in the shower as he scrolls through his phone. As soon as he comes
across a mildly funny meme, something about hoarders surviving the apocalypse, he sends it
to Taehyung to strike up a conversation. This is how it usually goes.

And then there's a knock on the door, not one he's expecting. The panic comes first, comes
naturally, until he remembers who it might be. The only person who ever rings his doorbell.

Instead of turning off the shower to pretend he's not home, Jeongguk does it to run out and
grab a towel. “Yeah, hold on a sec!”

He drops his phone on the counter, wraps the towel around his waist, and rinses his mouth at
the sink as quickly as he can. He wipes the foggy mirror to see through the condensation and
cleans off some stray foam from his chin before rushing out of the bathroom to open the
door.

Taehyung's blue hair is fluffy and parted, more of his forehead on display than Jeongguk's
ever seen. He's wearing a baggy light brown cardigan and white shirt, gold-rimmed glasses
that sit low on the bridge of his nose. “Hey,” he smiles with pearly teeth. “What are you
doing right now?”

Jeongguk hesitates. “Nothing..?”

“Perfect.” Taehyung's gaze seems to slide down to Jeongguk's bare chest, and he uses the
sleeve of his sweater to pat some moisture off Jeongguk's collarbone. “You should get
dressed. Let's have lunch.”

“Lunch?” Jeongguk swallows, the tiny bit of contact setting every nerve ending in his body
on fire. His damp skin prickles with goosebumps. “Like, now?”

“Yes,” Taehyung laughs softly, pushing the glasses higher up his nose. “My place. I'm
making food.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk is immediately relieved that the suggestion is to stay in. He's still a little
shaken from the night before, the unpleasant feelings that emerged when he spent time
around people. He isn't ready to be outside yet. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”
“Yay,” Taehyung claps excitedly, almost like he understands the weight of that yes. “I'll let
you get dressed. Just come over when you're ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don't make me come over again to drag you out,” he adds, leaning aside to keep
looking as Jeongguk slowly closes the door.

“Okay.”

Out of habit, Jeongguk leans forward and squints to look through the peephole after he shuts
the door. In the hall, Taehyung seems to sag with a sigh, a smile lingering on his lips. He
turns around and heads into his apartment, sliding a shoe between the door and the door jamb
to keep it open.

Stomach a mixture of anticipation and butterflies, Jeongguk walks into his bedroom to get
changed. He finds a clean black t-shirt to wear, a pair of jeans that isn't too tight around the
legs.

As he combs his hair with his fingers in front of the mirror, it occurs to him that Taehyung is
doing what the internet suggested he do to show his interest—cook him a meal. Is he trying
to show his interest? It seems unthinkable.

A few minutes later, Jeongguk steps out of his apartment, heart beating fast. He feels
vulnerable, like McCree on his Deadeye ult, both powerful and exposed. At a tipping point.

Pocketing his keys, he approaches 9A across the hall. It feels a lot like deja vu from last
night, only he lets himself in and pushes the loafer holding the door open inside as he enters.
“Hello?”

There's music playing, something calm and soothing. It's nice, the type of track he'd probably
download if he'd heard it in an anime ED. He takes off his slippers and pads down the hall,
finding Taehyung to the left in the kitchen. The layout of the apartment is flipped, Taehyung's
furnishings drastically different from Jeongguk's mostly empty place, but their apartments
look similar enough that Jeongguk's brain mistakes the scene for someone cooking in his
kitchen. He stares a little.

“Oh, hey.” Taehyung glances over with a sheepish smile—he'd been singing along, but he
immediately stops when he notices Jeongguk. “Sorry, this is almost done. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk admits, sniffing the air, recognizing the smell. “Are you making instant
ramen?”

“Yes. My favorite kind.” Taehyung lifts a packet as Jeongguk approaches, lips parted in
surprise. That's his favorite brand, too, spicy and seafood-flavored. He looks down and sees
that Taehyung has a big pot boiling, stirring the noodles inside with a pair of long cooking
chopsticks. “Is this okay with you? I'm sorry it's not much.”
“It's perfect,” Jeongguk cuts in, grinning a little incredulously. “That's my favorite brand
too.”

A grin spreads across Taehyung's lips, and he sets down the packet to hold up a couple of
green wet stalks. “I'm adding green onions. And corn. And egg. And some leftover pork.”

Jeongguk never puts that much effort into it himself. Ramen is ramen, something he can eat
standing up or at his computer over a game, but Taehyung doesn't need to know that, of
course.

“That's amazing. I can't wait to try it.”

Taehyung smiles and stirs the pot gently, Jeongguk standing over by the side of the stove. He
watches as the younger pinches some noodles between the chopsticks and lifts them, draping
them over a poaching egg. “Can you get the pork slices from the fridge? They're on the top
shelf.”

Jeongguk nods, stepping behind Taehyung to get to the refrigerator. It doesn't look like the
old white one in Jeongguk's place, made instead of sleek stainless steel that looks brand new.
The apartment must've been renovated recently, unlike his. When he opens the fridge, it's
stocked full of food, drinks, and snacks. Nothing like Jeongguk's, either, which is always
mostly empty. Jeongguk gets by on the bare minimum, surviving on as little food as possible
so he doesn't draw too much attention to his lifestyle. Not that he thinks his father will ever
notice or care, if he hasn't so far.

He grabs the tupperware on the top shelf and closes the fridge, walking back to Taehyung.
“Here.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung pops open the lid and pulls out a few pale slices of pork with the
cooking chopsticks, dropping them into the pot. “Could you cut these green onions? I already
washed them. Just use these scissors.”

Jeongguk steps over and grabs the pair of big scissors on the counter. He holds a green onion
stalk over the pot of boiling water and starts snipping away, small pieces dropping into the
broth. “Do you make food often?” he asks Taehyung.

“Sometimes. Can't always just get takeout,” he chuckles. Jeongguk smiles tightly. “How
about you?”

“I order delivery a lot,” Jeongguk admits. “When I cook, it's usually from frozen. Or ramen,
like this.”

“Ah,” Taehyung nods in understanding, swirling the chopsticks around to break up the
noodles before he turns off the stove. “It's ready. Go sit while I pour them out.”

Jeongguk reluctantly obeys, setting down the scissors and the white parts of the green onions
to walk out to the living room.
The windows are open, a pair of sheer white curtains blowing in the breeze. There's a toolbox
open over Taehyung's coffee table, a pair of pliers gripping the end of a coil of stiff copper
wire. It looks like Taehyung's working on the beginnings of a metal sculpture of some sort, a
round shape taking form at the bottom.

Jeongguk approaches the windows to take a look at the view. The red candles that were
burning last night are still on the windowsills, their wicks blown out. Taehyung's windows
face the front of the building instead of the back, and Jeongguk catches a glimpse of the street
they're on, the 7-Eleven across the road.

“Oh, my bad, I forgot to move all of this.” Taehyung walks out of the kitchen carrying a
white bowl between two oven mitts. “Can you clear some space?”

Jeongguk steps over to the coffee table and latches the toolbox shut, moving it to the floor.
He carefully pushes the metal sculpture and pliers to the edge of the table. “What is this?”

“Just something I'm working on. A project for school,” Taehyung says, setting the bowl of
steaming ramen on the table. “This one's yours.”

Taehyung goes back to the kitchen and Jeongguk finds a seat on the red couch. The noodles
look familiar, but not the same as his usual. Similar, but elevated. Like Taehyung's apartment.

Taehyung comes back with a second bowl and utensils balanced between his hands, setting
them on the table. He takes a seat on the floor across from the couch, pulling his bowl closer.

“Thanks for the food,” Jeongguk says. “It looks great.”

“Sure,” Taehyung smiles, leaning over the bowl and blowing into it. The heat mists over the
lenses of his glasses, and he wipes them with the long sleeve of his cardigan.

Both of them start eating in comfortable silence, the soft music still blowing from a sound
system that must be set up in Taehyung's room. Jeongguk hunches over the table to bring the
noodles into his mouth without spilling, but his eyes keep flicking back to Taehyung's lips as
he delicately blows on some broth held in a spoon.

“I'm glad you came,” Taehyung says, glancing up. He catches Jeongguk staring and Jeongguk
looks away quickly, flustered.

"'Course. You invited me.”

“Yes, but you could've said no,” Taehyung says, slurping out the broth from his spoon. “I
thought you might say no after yesterday.”

Jeongguk can feel himself blush, brings the noodles to his face and takes a big bite to excuse
away the burn. “Yeah. No. This is different.”

“What's different?” Taehyung asks.

You, Jeongguk should say. You're the only one I can be around.
“I don't know. Fewer people, I guess. More manageable.”

Taehyung looks up at him pensively, pulling up some noodles to blow on them lightly. He
must know what Jeongguk is talking about, his social awkwardness obvious by now, but he
doesn't look like he's judging, merely evaluating.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” he asks suddenly. “Later? After we eat.”

“A swim?”

“Yeah. In the pool downstairs. The weather's warm enough today, 22 degrees.”

“That's not that warm.”

“The water's heated.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk didn't know that. He's never used any of the building's amenities aside from
the laundry room because the thought of crossing paths with other residents was always
enough to keep him away. There's an outdoor pool with a shower, though, maybe even a rec
room of some sort on the first floor. “Why do you want to go there?”

“Why not?” Taehyung shrugs. “Sounds fun. Do you have other plans?”

Jeongguk swallows thickly, debating whether or not to tell the truth. It's tempting, oh so
tempting to come up with an excuse that would allow him not to go. Instead of being
somewhere where he could potentially run into strangers, he could play Overwatch all night
and beat off to the selfies Taehyung's sent him. Fun. Safe. Not stressful.

Not with Taehyung.

“No, I guess I'm not doing anything else...” He hesitates, wets his lips. “Okay. Let's do it.”

“Oh, awesome.” Taehyung grins and takes off his glasses to wipe the inside of his lenses with
the hem of his sweater. “Let's give ourselves some time to digest and then we'll go. We'll
probably have it all to ourselves.”

Jeongguk hums, a nervous pit developing in his belly. The food he swallows ends up falling
into it, making him slightly nauseous. Part of him wants to take back what he said, but it feels
like it's too late. The neighbor's already excited.

Once they're done eating, Taehyung stands up and gathers both bowls, carrying them to the
kitchen. “Would you like dessert? I have some ice cream in the freezer.”

“Nah.” Jeongguk doesn't think he can stomach any more food, not if he doesn't want to shit
himself in the pool. “I think I'll go get changed, then.”

“Okay. Don't forget the sunscreen. The sun's still out.”

Jeongguk nods blankly and steps out of the apartment, pulling the door shut in a daze.
Swim trunks. Jeongguk hasn't worn his in nearly five years. When he tries them on in front of
the mirror inside his closet door, they look shorter than they used to when he was thinner, the
black fabric stretched around his big thighs. His belly sits above the waistband, barely
cinched by the deteriorating elastic. The drawstrings look unnaturally short, already stretched
to the limit to accommodate his bigger hips.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, sucking in his stomach and straightening his posture as he turns to
the side. It looks much better like that, if he's able to hold it.

He puts on a shirt and grabs the largest bath towel he has, wrapping it around his waist over
the trunks. He doesn't actually own any sunscreen, so he grabs a hat from the closet and pulls
it on. The sun is about to set, but it does a good job of hiding most of his face, which is just
perfect.

Jeongguk shoots Taehyung a text about being ready and waits by the front door. When he
hears the door across the hall open, he opens his door and finds Taehyung stepping out of his
place.

Unlike him, Taehyung didn't bother putting on a shirt. He has only orange swim trunks on,
the fabric smooth and pristine, a few shades off from the honeyed color of his skin. When he
turns around, Jeongguk sees he has two white streaks of sunscreen on his face, one across
each cheek. There's a towel hanging over his arm, his Juul held in a fist.

“Let's go have some fun,” he grins.

They take the elevator to the first floor, an older man who's already in there giving them a
strange look before he gets off on the third floor. Taehyung chuckles as he rubs the sunscreen
into his skin, and Jeongguk doesn't even mind that the guy was probably a homophobe,
thinking mean things about them in his head. Taehyung curls a hand around Jeongguk's and
pulls him out when the elevator opens onto the first floor.

The pool is accessible through the back door of the building. It's in a closed-off area, the
privacy fence tall enough that people couldn't see them from other buildings or the street. The
pool is a couple of meters long, not big enough for lap swimming but much nicer than
Jeongguk had expected for their older building. There isn't anyone else out there, though, and
it's immediately obvious why.

“It's kind of cold,” Jeongguk says, following Taehyung out onto the patio and dropping his
towel and phone on the lounge chair beside his. “Are you sure it's 22 degrees out?”
“That was earlier. Might be lower now that the sun's setting.” Jeongguk looks up, the clouds
dark and moving slowly against the pale blue and pink in the horizon. Jeongguk is outside,
and the thought sends a shiver through him. “Are you too cold?” Taehyung asks, sounding
worried. “We can do this some other day if you are. I know I sort of like, sprung this on
you.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I'm fine. We're already here.”

Jeongguk takes off his shirt and hat and drops them on the chair with the rest of his stuff. He
doesn't look at Taehyung, can already feel his gaze on him, and instead walks over to the
edge of the pool to dip his toes in.

“It's warm, right?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk swirls his foot over the surface, the heated water rippling beneath it. The
underwater lights suddenly turn on, yellow illuminating the blue tile and making it look a
little green. “Oh. The lights just came on.”

“That must be a sign. We gotta use the pool now.”

Taehyung steps beside him and looks down at the water. When Jeongguk looks at him,
Taehyung meets his gaze before smiling and taking a step forward, letting himself drop into
the pool. Jeongguk watches with wide eyes as the water swallows him up, waves slamming
together and splashing against the edges, spilling over his feet.

Taehyung resurfaces with a gasp, shaking his head to unstick his hair from around his face.
“The water's great! Come in!”

Jeongguk hesitates, looking down at the water and worrying it might be too cold. He's got a
towel, sure, but he knows he'll be freezing when he steps out of the pool again. His wet feet
are already sort of cold.

“Come on, Gukie,” Taehyung encourages, hopping over to the side of the pool and hugging
Jeongguk's ankles. He fits his warm face between Jeongguk's shins and Jeongguk thinks he
might get a stiffie right then. He swallows and drops his head back, thinking unsexy thoughts.

“Okay. I'll do it.”

Taehyung lets go and hops back with a pleased little grin, tongue stuck between his lips.
Jeongguk has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep his dick down.

He jumps.

The water is warm the instant it envelops his feet, and Jeongguk sinks into it with a gasp.
When was it, the last time he took a dip? With his mother, surely, in one of their holidays
together. As a child, then. Happier times. Times when he mattered to someone.

He emerges, sputtering.

“Are you okay?”

The neighbor moves over, placing hands on both of his cheeks.

Jeongguk opens his burning eyes, blinking water away, and nods wordlessly. He's okay, he's
okay.

He's fucking outside.

“You should've seen how much water just spilled out,” Taehyung laughs, still holding his
face. “That was amazing.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Jeongguk teases.

Taehyung snorts, patting his cheek and dropping his hands on either one of Jeongguk's
shoulders. He's being freaking touchy and they're half-naked and there are rings on his
fingers. Jeongguk is feeling a lot of things, most of them good.

“You look good,” Taehyung says, sliding his hands to the outer ends of Jeongguk's shoulders.
“You must know that, 'cause you always answer the door with your shirt off.”

“Do I?” Jeongguk blinks in shock. Taehyung nods. “Holy shit. I'm so sorry.”

“For what? I'm not complaining,” Taehyung grins, massaging the bone of Jeongguk's
shoulders, nudging him lightly back and forth. “You have nice little nipples.”

“What?”

“What?” Taehyung keeps grinning and backs away, moving toward the other side of the pool.
Jeongguk wets his lips and looks down at his own chest, then back at Taehyung, who blinks
innocently. “What is it, hyung?”

“Gross, don't call me that,” Jeongguk mutters, walking forward through the water and
pushing it away with a hand. “You act like the older one.”

“How so?” Taehyung asks, sounding surprised.

“You help me with everything,” he says without thinking. “You teach me basic stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Like how to be around people,” he shrugs, slaps a hand over the water and pushes it down.
“How to have a conversation.”

“Sounds like you already know how to do those things,” Taehyung says. When Jeongguk
looks over, he finds Taehyung gazing down at the pool floor, hopping weightlessly around
with his brows furrowed. “Why would you think you don't know how to?”

Because he hadn't in two years. Because he only talks in silence, with his fingers, on the
internet. Because he's only relatively comfortable with one person.

“For several reasons,” is all he says.

“Hm.” Taehyung stops hopping and dips underwater. Jeongguk sees his shadow move across
the green-hued pool and approach him. Taehyung resurfaces right in front of him, blue hair
hanging over his eyes. He pushes it back with both hands, blinking water from his eyelashes.
“Is that why you dropped out of SNU?”

Taehyung is really fucking pretty in the low light, the green reflecting on his face and
throwing shadows over his eyes from his high cheekbones. Jeongguk can see the reflection of
the pool in them, sees himself standing there like a shadow through Taehyung's dark eyes. He
swallows thickly and nods.

“Yes. Something like that.” But he doesn't want to talk about his problems, especially when
the neighbor looks so pretty. “Can you tell me more about your major?” he asks to change the
subject, brushing past Taehyung. He moves to the wall of the pool and presses a foot back
against it. “It's about crafts, right? You build things made of metal like the sculpture
upstairs?”

“And jewelry,” Taehyung nods. “I'm mostly interested in that.”

“Ah.” That would explain all of his rings, which always seem to change to include stones of
different colors. Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung makes all of his rings himself. “What got you
interested in that?”

“My family owns a jewelry business. My grandmother started it in the 50s,” he explains. “My
dad runs it now. I learned some stuff from him growing up. Mostly learned from my
grandma, though.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk considers that as he slips under the water, pushing off the wall to propel
himself to the other side of the pool. He zooms past Taehyung underwater, one hand
outstretched to brush over his knee. He resurfaces on the other side. “So does that mean
you're taking over the family business after you graduate?”

“I'd like to, yeah.” Taehyung turns to face him, cupping some water and scooping it up in his
palms. The water glistens on the gold of his rings. “My father wants me to prove myself first,
though. I have two younger siblings, and my sister is also interested.”

“Ah. That's cool. Are you close with them?”

“Yeah, we speak all the time. I'm going down to see them in the summer, actually.” Jeongguk
hums, dipping underwater and pushing against the wall to swim to the other side again. He
brushes lower on Taehyung's leg this time, the side of his calf. “How about you? Do you have
any brothers or sisters?” Taehyung asks when he emerges.

“My father has three kids with his new wife. They're all way younger,” he explains, pushing
some hair back from his eyes. “So no. Not really.”

“That counts,” Taehyung says, his voice moving closer. Jeongguk opens his eyes, heart
skipping a beat when the younger moves extremely close, but Taehyung only moves around
him to climb over the edge of the pool, pushing himself out. He stands up and walks over to
the lounge chair where his things are, picking up the vape before walking back to the pool.
“And how old are your half-siblings?”

“Uh, six, four, and ten months,” Jeongguk recalls.

“Oh wow, babies.”

Taehyung shivers and sits down on the edge of the pool before slipping gracefully into the
water, holding the vape up to keep it dry. When he emerges, he shakes off his blue hair and
taps the sleek front of the e-cig before taking a long pull. A little white light comes on, and
Taehyung inhales slowly, then breathes out vapor that smells like candy.

“What flavor is that?” Jeongguk asks, jerking his chin.

“Mango,” Taehyung smiles, holding it out. “You want to try it?”

Jeongguk narrows his eyes, considering it, and when Taehyung slides closer in the water,
waves rippling around him, he takes it from his fingers, wanting to seem like the type of guy
who would do those things.

He brings the mouthpiece between his lips and takes a long pull. His mouth fills with
flavored heat, and he feels a small kick from the nicotine before he exhales, breathing it all
out in a cloud of white vapor. He hands the Juul back to Taehyung. “I feel too old for that.”

“Too old for what? You're only twenty-two,” Taehyung giggles, taking a hit of the vape and
backing up to set it down on the edge of the pool. “And I'm younger than you, so if I'm your
unofficial hyung, you have to be young enough for it, too.”

“Fair, if we're using that logic.” Jeongguk chuckles and walks backward, stretching out his
arms and lifting his legs to try to push himself up into a float. It doesn't quite work, and his
feet sink back quickly. “Yeah, I do feel younger than twenty-two. I think my brain stopped
maturing at thirteen.”

Taehyung laughs a heavy laugh, like he has something to say about that. Jeongguk looks over
with a raised eyebrow and the neighbor shrugs, doggy paddling toward Jeongguk in the
water. “Hm, but your body didn't stop maturing at thirteen, that's for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk furrows his brows.

Taehyung continues swimming past him, only his blue head of hair above the surface, and
Jeongguk pushes a hand through the water to send a wave toward him. It crashes against the
back of his head and soaks his hair further, and Taehyung stands up with a yelp of protest.
“Hey!”

“What do you mean?” he asks again.

“You look grown, that's all I'm saying,” Taehyung shrugs. He walks back to the side of the
pool to grab his vape from the floor. “You definitely look like a senior in college.”

Jeongguk narrows his eyes, not sure how to take that. “Is that a good thing?”
Taehyung turns around and leans back against the wall of the pool, bringing the vape to his
lips and taking a long hit. Jeongguk approaches him as he breathes the vapor in, and
Taehyung's lips curl up around the black tip of the device. He nods.

Jeongguk feels something flutter in his belly, a type of warmth that has both nothing and
everything to do with physical attraction. Feeling bold, he steps in front of Taehyung and lifts
a hand from the water to grip the edge of the stone overhanging the pool, then the other side
to cage him between his arms. They're both up to their shoulders in the water, a sea of green
moving gently around them, and Jeongguk gives himself full permission to stare at
Taehyung's face.

Taehyung dips slightly lower in the water to cover himself up to the chin. When he opens his
mouth, white vapor filters out in a thick cloud. As the vapor dissipates, Taehyung reaches
behind himself and carefully pushes the Juul across the stone floor, away from the edge of the
pool. His eyes stay on Jeongguk.

“Let's see who has the best jump.”

“Huh?”

Taehyung turns around and hauls himself out of the water, forcing Jeongguk to take a step
back. He turns to look at Jeongguk again when he's outside, a shudder going through him.
“Come on,” he insists. “Let's practice jumping together.”

Jeongguk doesn't particularly want to, but he steps up to the wall and pushes against the stone
floor to pull himself up. Water washes over him, spilling over the floor, and he brings a foot
up and forces himself upright. He stands up next to Taehyung, the breeze chilling his wet
skin. He hugs his arms around himself.

“Watch me.” Taehyung steps to the edge of the pool, water dripping from his orange shorts,
then leaps and folds his arms around his legs, dropping in like a ball. Water shoots up, then
splashes sideways against the edges of the pool. He emerges after a second. “So? How was
it?”

“Eight out of ten,” Jeongguk jokes. “Minor spillage. Great form.”

Taehyung grins, looking pleased, and backs up with both arms outstretched, legs kicking up
underwater. “Your turn. Let's see if you can do any better.”

“You trying to empty the pool?” Jeongguk snickers, stretching his arms and cracking his
knuckles as he looks down at the stirring water.

“Trying to get you to jump,” Taehyung corrects, walking backward to the shallower end. “Go
ahead.”

It's fucking cold out, so Jeongguk doesn't need any further incentive. He jumps, copying
Taehyung and wrapping his arms around his folded legs, dropping into the water like an
oversized cannonball. He sinks to the very bottom of the pool, his ass grazing the floor, and
opens his eyes as he starts to float back up. He resurfaces with a cough, standing up and
shaking out his hair.

Taehyung is right there with him in an instant, stepping close and taking one of his hands. He
lifts it out of the water, tugging Jeongguk with him as he backs up toward the shallow part of
the pool.

“Ten out of ten,” he declares.

Still a little dazed, Jeongguk blinks away chlorinated droplets and rubs his fingers over an
eye, looking Taehyung over. “What are we doing now?” he asks, following him through the
water. The level lowers incrementally, his shoulders and chest more exposed, and he shivers
as the cool air blows on his wet skin.

“Fucking around,” Taehyung murmurs with a smile, pink tongue swiping over his upper lip
as he twists around. There's a glint in his eye, and Jeongguk suddenly feels the thrill in his
belly return.

“Okay,” he swallows. “I'd probably do anything you asked of me.”

“Really?” Taehyung backs himself onto a wall in the pool, pulling Jeongguk closer by the
hand until they're mere inches away. “Anything?”

Jeongguk nods, the warmth inside him growing hotter. He steps closer, coming toe-to-toe
with Taehyung underwater. “Sure. Yes.”

“Will you kiss me then?” Taehyung sounds hopeful. “A proper kiss.”

Jeongguk knows exactly what that means, and his heart dips in excitement. He swallows
thickly. “You really want me to?” he asks. Taehyung nods, his eyes dropping to his lips
before they lift to Jeongguk's again. “Why?”

“What kind of question is that?” Taehyung frowns. “Because I like you.”

Jeongguk's heart does a strange thing, thrumming in his chest until it feels like the only organ
in his hollow, hollow body. “You do?”

“...Yes,” Taehyung whispers, pressing back against the wall. “Obviously.”

Jeongguk leans in, hands landing on the floor on either side of the neighbor's body. He kisses
the edge of Taehyung's jaw, hearing him breathe out as he tilts his head to the side to
welcome more. Jeongguk kisses around the lobe of his ear, pulling on the damp, soft skin,
and feels a warm hand press against his chest.

Taehyung runs fingers up his torso, the touch light and teasing. It raises goosebumps over
Jeongguk's skin, little hairs prickling across his arms and down the back of his neck. He
exhales and presses an open-mouthed kiss lower on Taehyung's throat, closing his lips around
the skin and pulling lightly. Taehyung breathes out a shaky sigh, sliding a wet arm around
Jeongguk's neck.
Jeongguk's hands curl into fists on the stone floor, and he steps closer until his bottom half
pushes against Taehyung's, their hips aligning. He has an erection, and he lets Taehyung feel
it as he noses the edge of his jaw, his heart beating fast. Taehyung's breath hitches, one of his
hands slipping through the back of Jeongguk's hair.

“Jeonggukie,” he mumbles, squeezing the wet strands between his fingers. “Please kiss me
now.”

With a warm body pressed against his, fingers tugging at his hair, Jeongguk feels confident
enough to bring his mouth up to Taehyung's. He kisses him like the first time, lips slotting
around his, but when Taehyung's lips part, he fully expects the tongue. Taehyung breathes out
through his nose, warm air fanning Jeongguk's face, and slides a hot, wet tongue beneath
Jeongguk's upper lip.

The concept of French kissing is familiar to him, insanely hot, but he'd already resigned
himself to the fact that he wouldn't get to do it. Now, the feeling of Taehyung's warm tongue
brushing his has heat coiling in the pit of his stomach, his tongue curling up slightly to meet
it.

He drops a hand from the edge of the pool to grip Taehyung's hip underwater, fingers curling
into his swim trunks. The younger's fingers keep combing through his hair, the softness of the
touch at odds with the insistence of his tongue as he pushes it against Jeongguk's, licks the
roof of his mouth and coaxes his tongue to follow. Tentatively, he slides it into Taehyung's
mouth, tasting mango from the vape he was using.

When Taehyung breaks the kiss, he bites Jeongguk's lower lip, exhaling deeply and leaning
back to tug on it. He's smiling, green reflected in his eyes, and Jeongguk can't help but brush
drying blue hair back from his temple, behind his ear. He's so fucking stunning.

“You feel so good,” Taehyung murmurs, running fingers down Jeongguk's exposed chest,
over his hard nipple. He must feel the boner he gave him, and if the pleased little smile on his
lips is anything to go by, he isn't grossed out by it. “How do you feel? Okay?”

Horny. Want to fuck you. Probably inappropriate to say. “Yeah.”

Taehyung leans in and kisses the corner of Jeongguk's mouth. “I have a suggestion.”

“Hm?”

“Let's go to the convenience store.”

“Uh… What?” Jeongguk frowns. “When?”

“Now.”

“Now?” Jeongguk's eyebrows shoot up. His dick might flag a little, not particularly interested
in going out into the world, especially when he was having such a good time kissing. Aren't
they outside enough? “Why do you wanna go to the store?”
"'Cause it's a nice night,” Taehyung mumbles, pecking Jeongguk's cheek. “A walk would be
nice, wouldn't it? We can hold hands. And I need something from the store.”

The suggestion seems to be coming a bit out of left field, but Jeongguk is inclined to go along
with anything Taehuyng says. If he does what he wants, he might get to kiss him again, touch
him in places that make him moan and tug on his hair again. He'd really like that.

“Um. Okay, I guess.”

Taehyung inhales sharply, breaking into a grin and gripping both of Jeongguk's shoulders. He
leans in and kisses Jeongguk square on the lips. “You're so good. Such a nice guy.”

Jeongguk blinks, dazed, and lets himself be nudged away when Taehyung pushes him lightly
to turn around and climb out of the pool. He looks up and watches the younger neighbor
stretch out, arms above his head, then spin around and hold a hand down like he's offering to
help him up. Jeongguk shakes his head and grabs the ledge of the pool, hauling himself out
without assistance.

They walk around the pool to the lounge chairs, Taehyung bending down to grab the vape
pen from the floor. He presses the front and takes a long hit, smiling at Jeongguk as he holds
in the air and shaking the vaporizer, the light at the front flashing different colors as he moves
it. Jeongguk snorts quietly and rubs his towel across his chest, drying the water droplets.

Taehyung dries himself up and tugs his big white towel around his shoulders, holding the
ends together at his chest. Jeongguk pulls his shirt on, the cotton catching on his wet skin,
and shivers just looking at him.

Going out sounds even less appealing now that he's out of the pool, his warm skin cooling
quickly in the breeze. Jeongguk glances down at the swimming pool longingly, the green
water sloshing around the large pit. “Are you sure you want to go? Not gonna catch a cold?”

“I'm fine, I really need to buy something,” Taehyung says, shaking out his hair and pulling
the towel tighter around the front. “Please? I'll go up and get a shirt.”

Jeongguk finds out he's weak to pleading, and he presses his lips together, jerking his chin
toward the patio door. Taehyung takes the hat from his hand and slips it on, the edges
covering his eyes.

They both pad back into the building in their wet flip-flops, water dripping from their shorts.
They walk across the hall to the staircase and elevator, and Taehyung presses the button and
the doors open immediately.

“I'll be right back,” Taehyung says as he steps in. “Stay right there.”

Jeongguk nods half-heartedly and watches the elevator doors close between them. He turns to
face the front of the building, a feeling of dread slowly creeping in. He has to remind himself
of who he's with, why he's doing this. He isn't alone, so there's nothing to worry about. He
grips both ends of the towel around his neck.
Taehyung emerges from the elevator a few minutes later, blue hair towel-dried and a white
shirt sticking to his damp shoulders. He grins and takes Jeongguk's hand, pulling him to the
front door at the end of the hall. Jeongguk swallows nervously as they approach it.

The neighbor holds out an arm and pushes the door open, revealing the street ahead.

At night, the street they live on is dark, the convenience store across the road lit up bright
from within. There's no one there to honk at him, and all he hears are cars in the distance as
they walk down the steps onto the sidewalk.

They cross the street at the crosswalk, their hands linked. Taehyung's hair looks a darker
shade of blue in the dim light, and he looks over his shoulder at Jeongguk as they approach
the convenience store, the lit up sign above the door buzzing with electricity.

The automatic doors slide open as they step before them, and Jeongguk instinctively lets go
of Taehyung's hand. There's a greeting from the store clerk, but he keeps his eyes straight
ahead, glued to the center of Taehyung's back.

Taehyung seems to know exactly what he wants and where to find it, walking across a few
different aisles before going down one. It's for medicine, pills for indigestion, and Jeongguk's
about to ask what they're there for when Taehyung stops in front of a shelf.

Condoms.

Jeongguk doesn't know what to say, too shocked when the younger reaches out and grabs a
box. Taehyung turns to him, showing him the front. “Is this okay?”

They look like standard condoms, vague claims about lubrication and ultra-thinness, and
Jeongguk nods dumbly, speechless.

Taehyung nods and takes his limp hand and they walk back the way they came. “You want
anything else? I have my wallet.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, glancing over at the cashier warily when they approach. It's the
same girl who checked him out the last time he came, and Jeongguk keeps his gaze firmly
down so she doesn't recognize him. He stands half behind Taehyung, listening to him hand
over the box of condoms. The cashier chews gum as she scans the box and inserts his credit
card into the machine.

“Have a nice day,” she says when she hands over the bag and the card.

“Thanks,” Taehyung chirps cheerfully. “Good night.”

They step out of the store together, the plastic bag swinging between them.

“It's so nice that we have this right here,” Taehyung comments as they cross the street back to
their building. “We can do whatever we want, get anything we want. There's always stuff
around. Neat, right?”
 Jeongguk has spent so long dreading going out and fearing public spaces that he forgot to see
it that way. Forgot that for normal people, the things that bother him are mostly convenient.
Luxuries. He can walk dripping wet into a shop at 10 p.m. and buy a box of condoms while
he holds hands with the person he likes. It's almost like magic.

“It's not so bad,” he agrees.

Chapter End Notes

so with the whole world basically in quarantine, does this mean we all end up as
NEETs? stay safe, everyone. until next time.

moodboard
 Yes I'm Changing
Chapter Summary

Another version of myself I think I found, at last.

Chapter Notes

housekeeping note - my phone kicked me out of my curiouscat log in, and now i can't
access it since i deactivated twitter :( so if you sent me messages, i unfortunately can't
see or respond anymore. sorry, i really liked interacting

if anyone knows a magical fix, lmk!

now - mind the new tags! happy reading

Jeongguk fully expects Taehyung to invite him over to his place when they get back to the
building. The condom purchase seemed pointed, like he was trying to invite Jeongguk to
make a move, but in the elevator on the way up to their floor, Jeongguk feels too fucking
nervous to speak up.

What is he supposed to do to make someone else feel good? He might know his way around
his own dick, but condoms imply things more advanced than simply rubbing one off. He
needs to do some research.

So when the elevator finally opens onto their floor, he's both relieved and disappointed when
Taehyung just yawns and announces he's ready for bed.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, following the neighbor down the hall to their apartments. “Today
was a lot.”

They part ways at their doors, Taehyung shooting him an easy smile and shutting the door
slowly, his head peeking from the side until the very last second. Jeongguk closes his own
door with him, then presses his forehead against the wood.

He's smiling like a fucking fool.

That night, after he's showered to wash off the chlorine, Jeongguk lies in bed on his phone,
researching anal sex prep. It isn't pretty, involves things he isn't particularly comfortable
doing to himself, and so he opens his trusty NEET message board to seek emotional support
and advice.

There are multiple messages in his inbox, notifications of replies to a post he made earlier
about how Taehyung helped him come down from a freakout during the movie night with his
friends. He pulls up the post to read through the comments.

[UPDATE] How to date

[+7 -0] That's great, OP! Sounds like they have a pretty good idea of your situation and
accept it fully. Congrats!

[+11 -1] Wish I had someone like this in my life. All of my friends/family are assholes. No one
understands.

[+8 -0] How did you end up telling them you're a NEET? I need some advice on how to do
that myself.

[+4 -1] Sounds like she knows you're a shut-in?

[+9 -0] You're so lucky to have found someone who likes you as you are. In my experience,
people who date NEETs only want to change us.

Jeongguk is surprised at those replies, knows for a fact that Taehyung doesn't realize that he
isn't a normie because he hasn't told him. For all Taehyung knows, Jeongguk's busy
throughout the day while he's at school, then becomes free again in the late afternoon when
he returns home. That's what Jeongguk told him.

So he replies to those comments and explains the mix-up, then plugs his phone beside the bed
and tucks himself in, forgetting all about it.

On Sunday, he wakes to the brightness of the sun shining on his face. He opens his eyes
slowly, squinting at the ceiling, and glances at the digital clock on the nightstand. 11:21.

It's early enough that he would typically close his eyes and roll over to go back to sleep, but
he feels less like he has to kill time now.

There are a few things he could be doing instead of sleeping. Namely, texting the neighbor.
He leans out and grabs his phone, unplugging it from the cable. He already has a text from
Taehyung.

Wanna hang out?

Received 10:49 AM

At this point, Jeongguk is no longer surprised at the invitation. He rolls onto his back on the
mattress, grinning at the ceiling with his phone clutched in a hand.

Fuck yeah, he wants to hang out.

Jeongguk orders a hearty breakfast for delivery, wants to eat properly so he can have the
energy to keep up with Taehyung. Who knows what they could end up doing.

As he waits for the food to arrive, he takes a long shower. Fuck cleaning his ass, he'd rather
not mess with that shit. He does wash his hair, though, scrub his scalp with his fingernails to
make sure he's all good and fresh, use the better-smelling body wash he has tucked in the
corner of the shower box and scrub every inch of skin until he's satisfied.

After lunch, he washes all the dishes and shoots Taehyung a message asking when he should
head over. Whenever, comes the reply, and just as Jeongguk is typing up another question, a
selfie from Taehyung comes through.

He's lying on his couch, blue hair fanned out over red fabric. He's biting his lower lip, a flirty
glint in his eye.

...ok, I'm convinced

Be right over.

Delivered 12:03 PM

Taehyung replies with a laughing emoji, and Jeongguk has never felt so lucky and wanted in
his entire life.
“Welcome,” Taehyung greets decorously when he opens the door, waving Jeongguk in with
an over-the-top curtsey. “I have snacks.”

“Are we watching a movie?” Jeongguk asks, stepping in and toeing off his indoor slippers.
Taehyung's apartment smells strongly of something like perfume, thicker and more intense
than a burning scented candle. It makes his nose itch.

“Yeah, we could,” Taehyung hums, closing the door behind Jeongguk and scurrying past him
to the living room. He climbs on the couch from the side and sprawls himself over it on his
stomach. “Are you hungry?”

“I ate, but I'm always up for snacks.” Jeongguk walks over to the living room and stands
awkwardly by the couch, looking down at Taehyung's prone body as he decides where to sit.
He settles on the floor in front of the couch, grabbing the remote for the TV on the coffee
table.

“I have some popcorn if you want any. And frozen rice cakes. We should probably eat before
dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“My friends are coming over later,” Taehyung says breezily. “We'll order food or get
takeout.”

“Oh.” Taehyung's friends? Jeongguk feels a slight chill at the thought, his stomach dropping
apprehensively. That puts a bit of a damper on his mood. “When?”

“Like, around six? For dinner.”

“Ah.” They still have a few hours together, then. Jeongguk relaxes slightly. He can always
take off later, make up some excuse. For now, it's only them, and that's all that matters.

Flipping over on the couch, Taehyung nudges Jeongguk's shoulder with a socked foot. “Is
that alright with you?”

“Yep. It's fine.” Jeongguk sets the remote on the table, deciding not to put anything on. He'd
typically always leave something on at home for the background noise, but it doesn't feel
necessary when he's got Taehyung. He crosses his arms over his chest, lips curling up
slightly. “To be honest, it would be better if it was only me and you, but I can deal.”

He hears the neighbor chuckle behind him, feels his foot slip off his shoulder and land on the
rug with a muffled thud.

“Oh yeah? And what did you want to do, just the two of us?” Taehyung hums.

Jeongguk presses his lips together, the corners of his mouth twitching. He shrugs, although he
has an idea or two.

“Don't know?” Taehyung chuckles again. “I have an idea, but I'm not sure you'll want to.”
“What is it?” Jeongguk twists around to look at Taehyung, finds him grinning devilishly with
his hands linked over his belly, the edge of his white t-shirt hiked up.

“Have you ever smoked weed?”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows. That was not what he'd expected, to say the least. “Uh. No?
Why?”

Taehyung sits up and reaches for something on the coffee table, a slim device that looks like
his usual vape but cylindrical instead of rectangular. He props his legs up and folds an arm
over his knees, clicking the button at the front a few times before a light around the button
flashes. Taehyung holds the button down and brings the tip of the device to his mouth,
sucking for a long second.

Jeongguk watches, curious, and blinks when Taehyung blows out the vapor at his face. It
smells strangely earthy, not a discernible flavor like his usual vapes. The cloud dissipates
quickly, but the heavy scent hanging in the air lingers.

“This here is THC,” Taehyung explains, lying back on the couch with a cough. “My friend
gave it to me. It's supposed to help with anxiety.”

“With what?”

“Anxiety,” Taehyung repeats, and Jeongguk can only see his bent legs, his upper body hidden
behind them. “You know, social situations, stress, depression, that kind of thing.”

Jeongguk purses his lips, sniffing the remnants of the scent. “Do you have those issues?”

“No, but I thought it sounded interesting.” Jeongguk hears another click, then the sound of
Taehyung sucking another long breath. A second later, he exhales, and a cloud of vapor rises
from behind his legs. “You wanna give it a shot?”

Jeongguk's never done any drugs before, barely even drinks alcohol, so he hesitates. He's
heard of people using marijuana for medicinal purposes in other countries, but this is the first
he hears of it having psychological benefits as well.

Helps with anxiety? Social situations? Is that even possible? Sounds too good to be true.

“...Sure,” he agrees after a pause.

Taehyung sits up again, crossing his legs on the couch and holding the vape out with a grin.
“Just press the button and inhale,” he instructs. “Hold your breath then breathe out.”

Carefully, Jeongguk takes the device from his hand, brings the metal mouthpiece between his
own lips. He clicks the button, sucking slowly when a blue light comes on. It doesn't feel like
much of anything, just like breathing in air through the mouth, but when he inhales and holds
his breath, he feels it tickle the back of his throat as the vapor enters his lungs. He exhales
and starts coughing, a cloud seeping out from his lips. “Fuck—”

“You did well! You got some,” Taehyung praises, grinning from ear to ear. “Try again.”
Jeongguk brings the mouthpiece back up with a grunt, holding down the button and taking
another long pull. This time, he feels something strange, a subtle but fundamental shift. Like
putting on his mother's readers as a child.

“There you go. Good job, baby,” Taehyung giggles, reaching out and taking the device from
Jeongguk's hand. He grabs the remote from the table, too, turning the TV on. “Now wait and
tell me how you feel.”

“I think I feel something already,” Jeongguk coughs, squinting. He leans back against the
couch, looking at the TV to watch Taehyung browse through the channels as he tries to find
the right words to describe the slight altered perception. His vision is somehow laser-sharp,
his hearing clearer. “Am I imagining this? Could I even get high from only that?”

“I think it's possible, yeah. I'm no expert.” Taehyung lies on the couch and takes another hit,
sounding like he's pulling a whole lungful. He coughs, too, muffles it behind a hand. “Do you
like it? Does it feel any different?”

“I don't know,” Jeongguk furrows his brows, watching the actors on the television screen. A
popular variety show is on, something he'd typically think is exclusively for old people, but it
occurs to him that he's never sat down to watch a proper episode. He ought to give it a fair
shot before dismissing it, he realizes. “It's not bad, I guess. I feel pretty good.”

“Right?” Taehyung extends an arm, letting the vape slip from his fingers and drop on the
carpet. “Come over here, lay with me.”

Jeongguk looks over his shoulder, sees Taehyung lying with his head tilted to the side, dark
eyes on him. His hair looks especially vibrant against the red of the couch, though he can see
the black roots of his natural color starting to show at the top. Taehyung's so fucking pretty.

“You're so fucking pretty.”

“Huh?” Taehyung's eyebrows raise slowly, a laugh bubbling from his throat.

“You're extremely pretty,” he repeats, some boldness that has probably everything to do with
what he just inhaled fueling his courage. “Like, one of the prettiest people I've ever seen. In
person or online.”

“Online?” Taehyung laughs, sounding flattered. “Like where?”

“Porn,” he admits. Taehyung barks out another laugh, kicking his feet against the armrest of
the couch, and Jeongguk doesn't even feel embarrassed. “And I watch a lot of it, so that's
saying something.”

“Oh my god, the mouth on you.” Taehyung presses a hand over his eyes with a shy grin.
“That saying is totally right, isn't it? It's the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.”

Jeongguk snorts, glancing back at the TV with a mild smile. “I'm just telling the truth.”

Behind him, Taehyung folds his legs up, bending his knees to free up half of the couch.
“C'mere, big guy. I want you closer.” Wetting his lips, Jeongguk reaches for the discarded
vape on the rug and stands up, taking the vacated spot by the neighbor's bent legs. He clicks
the button on the pen and takes a long pull, filling his lungs with vapor. “You like that?”
Taehyung asks.

“Yeah,” he decides.

“Good. I'm glad.” The neighbor stretches one leg over Jeongguk's lap when he sits, leaving
the other folded up. “Maybe we should go for another dip in the pool. Last night was so
nice.”

“It was,” he agrees, dropping a hand on Taehyung's knee and giving it a squeeze.

“You ever gone skinny dipping?”

“No,” he snorts. “Of course not.”

“Why of course?” Taehyung shakes the leg he has over Jeongguk's lap, jostling his thighs.
“It's fun, Jeonggukie.”

“Is that what you were up to in the countryside? How you passed the time?”

“No...” Taehyung pauses, folds an arm under his head to prop it higher. “Maybe. We did a lot
of fun stuff for entertainment.”

“Like what?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, tears his eyes from the TV to glance at the
younger.

“Stuff,” Taehyung repeats vaguely, pink tongue swiping over his upper lip. He holds
Jeongguk's gaze intently and Jeongguk feels a bit like a deer caught in the headlights,
incoming threat and nowhere to run.

He swallows. Looks back at the screen. “Okay. Cool. Quit bragging.”

“Bragging?” Taehyung laughs. “How is that bragging?”

“Because you're showing off how you have way more experience than me, even though I'm
technically two years older.”

Taehyung goes quiet then, but Jeongguk can feel him staring at the side of his face. He keeps
his gaze firmly on the television, staring nervously at the bunch of actors running around
trying to fulfill some unknown mission.

“Do I really, Jeonggukie?”

“I suppose, if you have any at all,” Jeongguk says, his heart beating so fucking hard he can
feel it throb in his throat, in his ears. Admitting to this should probably be embarrassing, but
he isn't embarrassed, just on edge. Expectant. “Not like many people go crazy for the dorky
gamer type. At least not outside of anime.”

Taehyung laughs and Jeongguk smiles weakly, liking the sound of it.
“Is that what you think? That people wouldn't go crazy for you?” Taehyung sits up, pushing a
hand through his hair. Jeongguk glances over and sees he's staring at him, his eyes
somewhere around his throat. “I think you're very good looking. Very good proportions.”

“Proportions?”

“Yeah. Proportions.” Taehyung scoots closer on the couch, cross-legged and facing him, and
Jeongguk sits stock still when a hand lands on his shoulder. “You have very nice shoulders,”
Taehyung says, running his hand along it and brushing fingers over the side of Jeongguk's
nape. “And a thick, sexy neck.”

“Neck?”

“Yes,” Taehyung laughs softly, cupping the back of Jeongguk's nape with a hand and leaning
in, kissing his jaw. “And you always smell so fresh, like you just showered.”

“Well, I—”

“Shh, lemme finish.” Taehyung squeezes his nape and Jeongguk swallows thickly, snapping
his mouth shut. “You're modest and funny. That's very attractive.” Taehyung runs a second
hand across Jeongguk's chest, making him tense up and straighten his posture. “You're such a
cutie, too. I just want to eat you up.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to say something, but Taehyung pulls his earlobe between his lips
and sucks the words right out of him, a wet tongue sliding around the soft skin. Jeongguk's
mouth goes dry, all of the blood in his head quickly rushing south, and he timidly reaches
over to lay a hand on Taehyung's knee.

“You can touch me too, you know,” Taehyung says, dropping his hand from Jeongguk's chest
to lay it over his hand, guiding it higher on his thigh. “You have such warm hands. That's
another thing.”

“What other thing?”

“Another thing I like about you,” Taehyung says, kissing his cheek damply, moving his hand
back to his chest to grab at Jeongguk's other shoulder.

Jeongguk stares blankly at the television across the room, half in disbelief that this is actually
happening, and half excited. When the younger straddles his lap and blocks his view,
mimicking what he tried to do on their first date at his place, he swallows thickly and blinks
up at Taehyung.

“You have strange taste,” he says unsteadily, the weight of another on his lap entirely
unfamiliar but awakening some deep-set instinct he didn't know he had. It's like this body
knows exactly what to do, sliding both hands up Taehyung's thighs to cup either side of his
hips.

“Don't say that, baby,” Taehyung murmurs, kissing over Jeongguk's slack lips, pulling his
bottom one into his mouth with a breathy sigh. “I love the humor, but don't say bad things
about yourself anymore.”

Jeongguk blinks, squeezing Taehyung's hips as the younger hunches over him, presses an
audible kiss to the side of his neck and leaves a stamp of wet lips on his skin. He wants to ask
why he shouldn't when it's all true, but Taehyung scoots back on his lap and drags both hands
up beneath his shirt, lifting the fabric and exposing Jeongguk's pale skin.

“Look at these,” Taehyung croons, sliding fingertips up his chest and brushing both thumbs
over Jeongguk's nipples. “So cute.”

Jeongguk jolts at the unexpected feeling, tenses as the other rolls slow circles over his
nipples. It feels… weird. Pleasant but unusual. Taehyung's fingers are cool, turn his nipples
hard with a couple slow, teasing circles. Jeongguk leans back against the couch and slides his
own hands up Taehyung's baggy shirt, eyeing all of that sun-kissed skin.

“Can you take yours off?” he asks. “Please.”

Taehyung doesn't hesitate, just pulls back and yanks his t-shirt off over his head, dropping it
on the floor. He's skinny, smooth and perfect all over, and Jeongguk grabs his waist and
squeezes, feeling the give of the soft flesh.

“Hm,” Taehyung sighs, dropping his head back and raising himself slightly on his knees, his
stomach caving in and his chest puffing out. “Your hands.”

Jeongguk continues, encouraged, and strokes his thumbs over Taehyung's belly, moving his
hands up to copy what Taehyung did to him and brush over his dusky nipples. Taehyung's
weight settles back over his lap as he does, his head falling forward and blue hair covering
his eyes. Jeongguk leans forward, lips against Taehyung's cheekbone, and kisses him chastely
as he guides his head upright, hands sliding down Taehyung's torso to brush over the top of
his jeans.

“More?” he asks. “Can I see more?”

Taehyung lets out a sound like a hum, clutching the back of Jeongguk's hair and pulling it
between his fingers before he lets go and stands up.

Jeongguk looks up, still leaning against the couch, and wets his lips as he watches Taehyung
unbutton his jeans and push it down his legs. His thighs are supple and golden, the same
perfect smoothness as the rest of him, and Jeongguk is hit with the sudden desire to lean
forward and get closer. He doesn't stop himself, cups the back of Taehyung's warm thighs as
the younger kicks his jeans off from his ankles, left in only red boxer briefs.

“Could you really be this perfect?” Jeongguk mutters, leaning in and kissing the skin above
Taehyung's navel, squeezing the fleshy back of his thighs. “Is this even real?”

“Oh, it is.” Taehyung closes a hand behind his head again, pulling Jeongguk's overgrown hair
between his fingers, trapping Jeongguk's mouth against his skin. “About time someone
showed you how this feels.” He pulls Jeongguk's head back by the hair, looks down at him
with his cheeks slightly flushed. “Take another hit.”
“Huh?”

“Of the vape pen,” he says. “Take another puff of the vape pen.”

Jeongguk pats around for it, eyes fixed on Taehyung's face, and finds the device wedged
between the couch cushions. He brings the tip to his lips and clicks the button before taking a
long pull. He holds the vapor in, then breathes out. It rushes up in a thin cloud.

“Good,” Taehyung sighs, lifting his head and lightly combing his fingers through Jeongguk's
hair, like he's lost in his thoughts. “I want you nice and relaxed for this.”

“Relaxed?” Jeongguk remembers the instructional guides on the web, the tips he found for
anal douching. He furrows his eyebrows, slightly distressed, and leans in again to nose at
Taehyung's stomach. “Was the plan to fuck me?”

“Well... ” Taehyung trails off when Jeongguk circles his tongue around his belly button, his
breath faltering briefly. “I, no. Not particularly. Not at all, actually.” Jeongguk sighs, relieved,
and Taehyung shivers. “—Why? Did you want..?”

“No,” Jeongguk mutters. “Not at all.”

Taehyung exhales, also sounding relieved, and Jeongguk dips his tongue into the scoop of his
belly button. Taehyung's head drops back, his arm dragging Jeongguk's head closer, and hugs
his head against his belly. “Just want you to keep touching me,” he breathes. “Keep making
me feel like this. And feelin' yourself.”

Jeongguk's already feeling plenty good, but instead of merely saying so, he leans back against
the couch and spreads his legs, pulling up the hem of his shirt slightly so it isn't covering his
crotch. His cock is hard, tenting the front of his sweatpants, and he rubs a palm over it,
dropping his head over the edge of the couch with a long sigh.

He hears Taehyung exhale, feels the couch dip with his weight when he braces a knee by
Jeongguk's thigh and curves down to mouth at his jaw. “Baby,” he whispers, running fingers
down Jeongguk's arm and over the back of his moving hand, lingering there as Jeongguk
continues to stroke himself through the fabric. “Is it true, what you said about masturbating?
Do you think of me?”

Jeongguk snorts, a little breathless. "'Course. Why would I make up something like that?”

“Oh...” Taehyung curls his fingers around Jeongguk's wrist and kisses his neck again, shifting
lower to kneel on the floor instead of the couch. Jeongguk immediately knows what's
coming, his belly swooping in anticipation as the younger pushes his shirt up with one hand
and runs the other down his stomach. “No one's ever liked me that much before.”

Jeongguk furrows his brows, the comment slightly bizarre and definitely not true, but all
words leave his brain when Taehyung brushes light fingers over his cock through his sweats.
Taehyung focuses the attention on the tip, stroking the head almost affectionately, and the
touch is so faint it almost feels like a product of Jeongguk's overactive imagination.
“Fuck,” he inhales, knees jerking when the heel of Taehyung's hand presses against the base
of his dick and the pressure increases. Taehyung slips his hand between Jeongguk's spread
thighs, palming at his balls through the layers of clothing, and Jeongguk's breathing turns
ragged very quickly.

His cock is rock hard and aching by the time Taehyung's hands find the waistband of his
pants, warm fingers curling behind the elastic. “Can I?” Taehyung asks, voice husky like
nothing Jeongguk's ever heard.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, lifting his ass to help him slide his boxers and sweats down his thighs
in one go.

“God, Guk,” Taehyung sighs, curling a hand around his erect cock and leaning forward to
lave his tongue around the head, first with the giving upper surface and then with the side and
underside, each part feeling slightly different. It's all fucking wet, wet and goddamn hot.

“Oh fuck.” His stomach clenches, his balls tightening as that sends a spike of arousal through
him that would have him coming any day in his bedroom. But he knows the importance of
holding back now, not coming off as the sad virgin who shoots his load two seconds into a
blowjob. “Shit, I...”

“Gon' come?” Taehyung flicks his tongue over the underside of his cock, lips wrapping wetly
around the tip. The look on him is sinful, his mouth damp and eyes hooded, plump lips
stretched out. “Can come if y'need to. I don' mind.”

“I do,” Jeongguk replies tightly, swallowing thickly as he watches Taehyung bob his head
around the head of his dick. “Don't want to come yet.”

Taehyung hums and closes his lips more tightly, taking Jeongguk's cock between them and
bending forward to suck him down further, pulling the shaft all the way in. The heat of his
mouth is overwhelming, like Reinhardt's fire strike in real life, focused and destructive.
Jeongguk is fucking dead.

“Shit,” he groans, reaching out and laying a hand on Taehyung's head, not pulling or pushing
further, just resting on his hair. “Oh god.”

Taehyung bobs his head a few times, heat encasing him and leaving Jeongguk damp and
panting, then leans back and replaces his mouth with his hand, fingers wrapping loosely and
stroking leisurely, spreading out the spit.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a murmur. “Feel good?”

Jeongguk nods sluggishly, his mind foggy as he watches long fingers and jeweled rings move
up and down his dick. “You done this before?” he asks, strained. He needs to get his mind off
of the feeling.

“A couple times,” Taehyung shrugs, then leans down again to wrap his lips around the base
of Jeongguk's cock, pulling at the thin, sensitive skin of his balls. Jeongguk jolts with a
gasped moan, fingers twitching on Taehyung's head. Holy fucking shit.
“Can I, um, can I see you?” he asks breathlessly, afraid he really will lose it if they keep at
this. “See your, um?”

Taehyung raises his head, looking up at him from between his legs with shiny lips. “My
what?” He licks his lips. “My dick?”

Jeongguk nods, dropping his hand from Taehyung's hair to curl a fist by his own thigh.
Taehyung rises to his feet, the front of his red boxers now tented with an undeniable erection.
He pushes it down his legs and shimmies out of them, revealing the last few inches of his
skin.

Taehyung's cock is nothing like the ones in porn, not pulsing and engorged or shaved baby-
smooth. There is neat, closely trimmed hair at the base, a long and flushed cock hanging at an
angle with the weight of the blood filling it. It's the first dick Jeongguk's ever seen in person,
and it's beautiful.

“Shit,” Jeongguk swallows the spit that gathers in his mouth, reaches out with a tremorous
hand to brush fingers carefully along the length of it. Taehyung lets out a shaky breath but
stays still, his head dropping forward. “You're so. You're perfect.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung chuckles breathily, sucking in a sharp breath when Jeongguk sits forward
with his knees framing his legs. “Your first, Jeonggukie?”

Jeongguk nods idly, curling his hand around the middle of the shaft and leaning over to flick
his tongue over the head experimentally. Taehyung makes a little noise of pleasure, hooking a
hand over his shoulder, and moans openly when Jeongguk wraps his lips around the tip.
Taehyung tastes fine, mild as skin, but it's the weight of him on his tongue that's the biggest
turn-on. Jeongguk groans, sucking him down as far as he can.

“Oh,” Taehyung's fingers dig into his shoulder, fingernails biting at his skin. He rocks his
hips forward, driving his cock deeper into Jeongguk's mouth, and Jeongguk inhales sharply
as he feels the hot slide over his tongue. “Oh, teeth, baby, teeth.”

Oops. Jeongguk opens his mouth wider, leaving some more clearance between the edge of his
teeth and Taehyung's skin. Saliva gathers in his mouth, pooling beneath his tongue as he
slides back and forth, but the mild discomfort and jaw ache are worth it for the feeling of
power he gets when Taehyung shudders, lets out low moans that speak to just how good
Jeongguk's making him feel.

When Jeongguk pulls off, he wraps a hand around Taehyung's dick and gives it a couple firm
pumps, tugging the skin up and down to watch the head disappear under the edge of his
foreskin. “How do you feel?” he asks, voice thick.

“So good,” Taehyung sighs, squeezing his shoulder once more before stroking the side of
Jeongguk's hair, brushing stray strands back. “Can we move to the bedroom?”

Jeongguk nods, dropping his hand, and Taehyung turns around to lead the way to his room.
Jeongguk gets a view of his ass, round and perky and full. Fuck.
Taehyung's bedroom is as richly decorated as the rest of the apartment, canvases with
splashes of paint hanging from the walls, fairy lights wrapped around the frame of the
window above the bed. Set up on a crate-like platform low to the ground, the mattress looks
like a queen instead of Jeongguk's full, leaving just a bit of floor space around it. Taehyung
steps around the bed and plugs the end of the string lights into an outlet, casting a dreamy
yellow glow over the dark room.

Dropping onto the mattress, Taehyung lies on his stomach over the plush white comforter.
“Closer, I won't bite,” he says playfully, sliding his skinny arms around one of the two
pillows propped against the wall, spreading his legs and giving Jeongguk a full view of the
cleft of his ass, his hole and the underside of his balls.

Licking his lips, Jeongguk approaches the mattress and drops to his knees, moving up
between Taehyung's legs. He leans over, lying on his belly as well, and slides both hands up
the backs of Taehyung's spread thighs. Taehyung turns his face into the pillow when
Jeongguk's hands find his ass cheeks, squeezing at the firm, giving flesh.

“Holy shit, you have the best ass,” Jeongguk mutters, pressing down to watch his plush
cheeks mold around his fingers.

“Better than porn?” Taehyung says into the pillow, amused voice muffled.

“Way fucking better.”

Jeongguk scoots higher between Taehyung's spread legs, fingers still kneading. The view is
very much like porn, thick thighs spread apart to reveal the dark dip of an asshole, but there
are slight differences—the poor lighting, the lack of excessive lube, the light dusting of hair
behind Taehyung's balls—that make everything more real. So this is what people mean when
they say porn isn't realistic. He can't imagine anyone minding the difference.

“Guk—? Oh.” Taehyung moans when Jeongguk leans forward and licks a stripe up the cleft
of his ass. He tastes heady there, a lot like soap and a little like skin, and Jeongguk has to
wonder if he already cleaned out his ass in preparation for this. “Oh god, oh god, yes, do that
again.”

Jeongguk does, pulling Taehyung's cheeks apart and licking over his cleft. He feels the
pucker of Taehyung's rim flutter as his tongue passes over it, feels the deep breath he takes in
the dip of his belly and the shift of his hips over the mattress. Jeongguk lowers his head
again, wrapping his lips around the rim and sucking, massaging his plush cheeks.

Taehyung keens, spreading his thighs further apart, and the tingly feeling of power is back.

“Has no one ever kissed you down here?” he asks, nosing over Taehyung's hole and sucking
in a deep breath.

“No, no,” Taehyung pants, sounding a little desperate. “Please, I've always wanted...”

Jeongguk grinds his tongue back and forth over the puckered skin, feeling Taehyung's rim
tighten and pulse with each push. He wants to put his tongue in him and so he does, stiffening
the muscle and pressing at the opening until the tip pushes through. Taehyung gasps, his hips
lifting off the bed then dropping back down, and the move pushes Jeongguk's tongue deeper
in. Jeongguk sucks a breath through his nose and moves his hands to Taehyung's thighs to
hold them apart, keeping his legs from knocking into him.

He pulls away when Taehyung starts to whine, dragging himself up to pillow his cheek on
Taehyung's ass cheek. He strokes up and down the curve of it, soothing.

“You'll have to tell me what to do,” he murmurs. “I know I need lube and a condom, but
that's about it. Can I just put it in?”

Taehyung shifts, seems to turn his head on the pillow. “It would be better if you did it with
your fingers first,” he says, sounding winded. “So it doesn't hurt too bad when you put your
dick inside. Here.” He stretches up, reaching for something on the floor by the bed. Jeongguk
hears him fiddle with a box, but he doesn't move from his cozy spot on his ass. Is he in
heaven? “Use this.” A purple squared packet lands on the bed by Taehyung's hips, then a
bottle of clear liquid.

“What should I..?”

“Put the lube on my butt, then use your fingers to push it in. You can put the condom around
your fingers if you want.”

“Oh. Okay.” Jeongguk reaches for the bottle of lube first, giving it a shake. He turns it around
to squint at the label, hoping for instructions, but the print is tiny and the little light from the
string lights isn't enough to let him read. He flips open the cap and shifts slightly, propping
himself on an elbow by Taehyung's hips.

Taehyung lies there patiently as Jeongguk pours the liquid onto his fingers, sliding it around
them with a thumb. Jeongguk presses the flat of them over his asshole.

“Oh.” Taehyung shifts, seeming a bit uncomfortable, and Jeongguk spreads the lube around
his rim to coat it thoroughly before reaching for the condom.

It's a little tricky to rip open the plastic with one moist hand, but he manages to do it when he
uses both. It takes so long to roll the slippery ring open and get his fingers inside that he
worries Taehyung's boner may have flagged. His own is still very much interested, though,
the sight of Taehyung's spread legs alone enough to get him going.

“Can I?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

Carefully, Jeongguk pushes the tips of two wrapped fingers against Taehyung's asshole,
applying light pressure. Taehyung groans, the lube not enough to get the digits to slide in as
easily as he'd hoped, so Jeongguk pauses and shifts onto his knees, sitting up between
Taehyung's legs. “Sorry. Let me try again.”
He sees Taehyung's blue head nod against the pillow as he reaches for the bottle of lube with
his free hand. This time, he pours the liquid directly over the cleft of Taehyung's ass, letting it
ooze down toward his balls.

“Ah, that's a little cold.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk bites his lip, pressing his condom-wrapped fingers over Taehyung's
asshole again to work the lube in, hoping to warm it up with the touch.

“Don't apologize, you're doing, oh—” Taehyung's voice breaks off when the tips of
Jeongguk's fingers accidentally breach his asshole. Heart pounding, Jeongguk yanks them out
with a rushed apology before Taehyung moans and shakes his head vehemently, climbing
onto his hands and knees in front of him and rocking back. “No, no, that was perfect. Try
again.”

Swallowing nervously, Jeongguk pushes the two fingers back over Taehyung's rim, feeling
the give this time as the extra wetness allows him to push through like soap on skin. He feels
Taehyung's asshole part for him, rim sliding over the condom, and the heat inside his body is
so intense Jeongguk gasps as it swallows up more of his fingers.

Taehyung moans again, rocking forward on his hands and knees, and Jeongguk watches with
a dry mouth as his fingers disappear inside of him.

“Shit, are you okay?”

“Fuck yes, Gukie,” Taehyung groans, going still as Jeongguk's fingers push all the way in,
knuckles seated against him. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

Jeongguk thinks he knows what he means, so he slides his fingers back slowly before
pushing them back in when they're nearly all the way out. Taehyung moans, dropping his
head forward, and Jeongguk swallows and repeats, working up a slow and steady rhythm.

Taehyung is amazing, his body giving around the fingers, and after a few pumps, Jeongguk
can already feel the clench of his rim start to loosen to welcome the intrusion. More of the
lube drips from his cleft, pushed inside his asshole with every slide of the condom.

Jeongguk knows exactly when to withdraw his fingers to slide a third one in. He swirls them
around the pucker a few times to feel it flutter before pushing inside.

“Mmh, oh.” Taehyung shudders, body sagging slightly lower as his knees slip on the covers,
and Jeongguk resumes that slow rhythm that got him to open up. “You're so good at this,
baby. Such a quick learner.”

Jeongguk grins, pleased at the compliment, and reaches for the lube with his free hand. He
pours some on Taehyung's tailbone, watching it slide down the middle of his ass, and pulls
his fingers out only to push them back into him with the added lubricant. Dropping the bottle
on the bed, he strokes the base of his own cock with his fingers.

“How do I know when you're ready?”

“Just a little longer,” Taehyung sighs, rocking back onto his hand, circling his hips.

Jeongguk watches him for another couple minutes, then pulls his fingers out when Taehyung
starts moaning in a different pitch. He pulls his fingers out of the condom and wipes them on
his shirt, then wets his lips as he attempts to pull the soaked latex over his hard cock. It takes
a few tries with the material sticking together from the lube, but he eventually gets the edges
around the head of his dick and slides it all the way on.

Taehyung looks over his shoulder at him, blue hair sweaty and sticking up. He licks his lips,
then smiles.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

“About to pop your cherry,” Taehyung purrs, voice deep and thick. “Go on. Put it in.”

Jeongguk swallows thickly, moves forward on his knees, and braces himself with a hand flat
over Taehyung's tailbone. He pushes his hips forward and eases Taehyung's ass backward
onto him. The tip of his cock presses against Taehyung's wet asshole, and with a little
pressure, he slips in.

That's how he loses his virginity.

Later, the two of them lying together in bed, Taehyung strokes Jeongguk's chest over the t-
shirt he never took off, his head propped on Jeongguk's shoulder.

There's jizz drying on Jeongguk's soft cock, spit, lube, and come all over the thigh Taehyung
has hitched over his legs, but Jeongguk can't imagine anything more comfortable.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Taehyung asks. “Get some fresh air before my friends arrive?”

This is it. The perfect opportunity to leave and go back to his apartment.

“Sure,” Jeongguk says instead. “Fresh air would be nice.”

 Nangs
Chapter Summary

But is there something more than that?

Chapter Notes

it took me a little longer to get this one out because i've been working on a lil something
for the in bloom fic fest :)

mood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

After taking turns showering to clean off the sweat and jizz, they go out.

Taehyung's hand held in his, Jeongguk strolls around the block, breathes in fresh air and
visits parts of the street he hasn't seen in over two years.

He used to hate walking around his neighborhood because it's always so fucking crowded,
college students and hipsters wandering aimlessly and making noise til the wee hours of the
morning. For some reason, though, that doesn't bother him much now. The incessant
honking's fine too, not as loud or alarming as he remembered, and the rolling sound of car
tires in the distance is oddly pleasant. Even the sound of voices moving toward them as other
pedestrians walk down the sidewalk doesn't scare him—not when he's got Taehyung by his
side.

They walk by the Vietnamese restaurant where the neighbor held his birthday celebration
right after moving in, and Jeongguk stares at the friends he spots laughing and sharing food
through the window and wonders what it would've been like to have gone that day. He
would've gotten to know Taehyung much sooner, would probably be his boyfriend right about
now.

That's a nice thought to entertain.

Out there, Taehyung's hand held in his, walking around the street with no problem at all, he
thinks he could do pretty much anything. Coming out of his apartment sounds like nothing.
He probably hadn't tried hard enough before.

At the intersection down the street is a vending machine, soft drinks backlit by white light.
Jeongguk had missed these guys, their lovely convenience and privacy. Once upon a time,
going outside to grab drinks from vending machines had been a nightly routine for him, his
favorite part of a long day at SNU.

Now, as Taehyung presses some coins into the slot to buy them a beverage, he can't help but
grin.

“What?” Taehyung asks, glancing over as he presses a button, then bending to grab the can
that's dispensed. “You're smiling at something.”

Jeongguk laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “You don't wanna know.”

They share an energy drink by the wall, the buzz of the vending machine and noises of the
street between them. Jeongguk looks around and feels proud of himself for being outdoors,
and Taehyung keeps stealing glances and smiling at him, which is even better.

As he hands back the can at one point, he boldly reaches over and tucks a lock of blue hair
behind Taehyung's ear, just because he can. When the younger blushes, pressing his lips
together around a smile, Jeongguk sort of wants to take him home and fuck again. He giggles
at the thought.

“What?” Taehyung grins, knocking back the drink. “What are you thinking?”

Jeongguk shakes his head, taking the neighbor's hand after he tosses out the can. “I just
remembered I'm not a virgin anymore. Wanna go for round two?”

Taehyung laughs, giving Jeongguk's hand a firm squeeze. “Later, yes.”

They walk back home with their hands linked and their fingers intertwined, arms swinging
gently in between. As they walk up the steps to the building, Jeongguk finds himself wanting
to stay outside for longer, keep feeling the breeze on his face and hearing the noises of the
city with this person beside him.

Right then, he's a normal human being for the first time since he locked himself away, and it's
a mighty good feeling.

He could probably get used to it.

Taehyung's friends arrive for dinner when the sky outside is black.
Sitting on Taehyung's windowsill as he smokes the vape with the marijuana-laced cartridge,
Jeongguk spots the boisterous group of five as they walk up to the building. Even from nine
flights up, he can tell it's them from their bright hair colors, the loud, cheerful voices that
easily travel up the distance.

Taehyung is on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but when the buzzer rings, he
scrambles up to answer it, obviously very excited to spend time with his friends.

From his perch, Jeongguk watches the people downstairs curiously, wondering what it is
about them that has Taehyung so excited. If he's a freshman, he just met them a few months
ago, possibly right around the time he met Jeongguk. If he became so close to them in such a
short period, could Jeongguk become their good friend someday, too?

When the group arrives at the apartment, greetings are exchanged at the door, and Jeongguk
turns to look at them from where he sits.

Jimin, the one he remembers the most for being Taehyung's self-proclaimed best friend,
walks in first, his orange hair perfectly parted at the center and a baggy denim jacket sagging
fashionably from his shoulders.

“Hey, you,” he greets, cool as a cucumber, and Jeongguk nods back in shy
acknowledgement.

A tall man he hasn't met before, head of bleached hair meticulously combed back, walks in
behind him. He plops onto the red couch with a small, dimpled smile, and spreads out with an
undeniable aura of confidence.

“Jeongguk, yeah? Nice to meet you. I'm Namjoon.” The guy's eyes train on the vape in
Jeongguk's hand, and his smile widens slightly. “How'd that Indica work for you? I wasn't
sure about it since it's a little strong.”

Jeongguk blinks, confused. He lifts the device. “This?”

The blond nods. “Taehyung mentioned you'd never smoked before.”

“Oh…”

As he tries to formulate a response to such a strange question, three more people, two he
recognizes and another new face, come out and join them. Jimin tosses them some cushions
from the couch, and they all find seats on the floor around the coffee table, filling up the
small living room.

A familiar brunette, the friendly one who split a bucket of fried chicken with Jeongguk last
time the he saw them, grins widely at Jeongguk. His name might be Hoseok, but he isn't
sure.

“Now the crew's finally complete,” the guy says cheerfully. “Jeongguk, have you met Joon
and Jin yet?”
“Nope. Hi, I'm Kim Seokjin,” the new tall guy greets, his hair dyed brown and swept over his
forehead. Like the rest of Taehyung's friends, he's stylish and handsome, like the leading
actor in a drama.

“Hi. Jeon Jeongguk,” he greets back quietly.

Trailing the group, Taehyung emerges from the hall and walks toward the window. He stops
by Jeongguk, takes one of the hands he has laid limply over his lap and pulls it snugly
between his own.

“So, what should we order?” he asks. “Pizza? Chinese?”

“How about some noodles? I'd kill for some oxtail soup right now,” someone says from the
floor. The tall one, Jeongguk thinks.

“Hyung, we can't have that delivered, that's such a waste. We'd have to go out,” Jimin's
thinner voice retorts.

“Let's do it. It's boring here anyway.”

“Shh, don't say that.”

“Why not?”

“—Jeongguk?” Taehyung squeezes his hand to grab his attention, and Jeongguk catches a
glimpse of Jimin smacking the one with the actor's face with a cushion before he tears his
eyes away to glance up at the neighbor.

“Hm?”

“What do you say about going out?” Taehyung asks. “Are you okay with it?”

Jeongguk's mind feels a little hazy, like the cogs in his head are taking longer than usual to
process the meaning of each word and sight. Taehyung is asking for permission to go out and
eat, but he doesn't get why. He never said he'd go with them, so this technically has nothing
to do with him. Oxtail soup sounds delicious, though, and definitely can't be delivered
properly. He hasn't had a meal like that in so fucking long, it makes his mouth water. He
nods.

“Great, so let's go,” the tall one on the floor rises and the others follow suit, walking back the
way they just came.

One guy with light blond hair remains on the floor, watching Jeongguk with small, piercing
eyes. Jeongguk stares at him past Taehyung, trying to remember what his name was since he
also met him the day Taehyung hosted a movie night. He's so bad at names. He hopes the guy
doesn't try to come talk to him; that would be awkward.

Taehyung tugs on his hand. “Come with us. And leave the vape here, we can't smoke that
outside.”
Jeongguk nods sluggishly and stands, letting Taehyung pull him toward the door and
dropping the vape on the couch as they go.

He's apparently headed back outside, and he waits to feel some sort of way, but it's like
there's a haze over his thoughts, numbing the crippling anxiety he'd typically feel about
venturing out and being around people, let alone strangers. He feels a little like a spectator,
the omnipotent observer of beautiful, interesting college students going about their weekend.
And he doesn't mind it. At least, he doesn't think he does.

The others continue down the hall to the elevator when Taehyung pauses to lock his door.
Jeongguk waits, as does the blond whose name he can't remember.

“Taehyung, tell him he doesn't need to come if it makes him uncomfortable,” the guy says,
his voice deep and gruff. His eyes shift back to Jeongguk. “You want to take a raincheck,
kid? We can bring you back some skewers.”

Yes. Maybe. Holy shit, really? Jeongguk swallows. Fuck.

If he doesn't go now, when the weight of his thoughts isn't crushing, he'll never get himself to
do anything at all. And he thinks he can do it. He was weak before. This is easy. He just did
it, right before they arrived. He isn't scared.

“I'll go,” he decides.

This is it. His breakthrough. The final step to a normal life with friends and Taehyung. All
he's got to do is say yes.

He sees Taehyung glance at him with a pleased smile as he pockets his keys, and the dull
sense of dread that prickles at the back of his mind suddenly feels unimportant.

The restaurant the group picks is a mom-and-pop noodle shop, the older lady cooking behind
the counter greeting them warmly when they step inside.

It's clear that the friends are regulars at the place, walking in past the few empty seats at the
noodle bar to a secluded seating area behind a curtain, where no one else is around. They
push two metal tables together to accommodate all seven of them and find their seats,
laughing and joking like this is something they do together all the time. Maybe it is.

Jeongguk tries to sit next to Taehyung, but orange-haired Jimin pulls out the chair beside his
before he can do so, sitting beside him instead. Someone else is already seated at Taehyung's
other side, and Jeongguk is forced to move around the table to take the spot across from the
neighbor instead.

“The youngest should go grab us some water,” the intimidatingly handsome one, Seokjin,
suggests with a smile, looking between Jeongguk and Taehyung. Jeongguk has a feeling that
that guy is the eldest. Those things matter, off the internet. He'd spent so long away that he'd
almost forgotten.

Across from him, Taehyung stands up. “I'll be right back,” he winks at Jeongguk. Jeongguk
feels slight panic as he watches him dip through the curtains.

With the only familiar face gone, he leans back in his seat and links his hands over his
stomach, fiddling with his fingers. The table falls silent, and he looks around the restaurant's
bare yellow walls like they're somehow fascinating, analyzing each crack in the drywall and
hoping against hope that it isn't too obvious how uneasy he is about being around strangers.

It took him some time to get used to being around Taehyung, and apparently his new skills
don't extend to other people. He isn't sure how to act right now, is hyper-aware of his body
language—how straight he sits, how often he sniffs, and how others might perceive it. He
wouldn't know because he isn't looking, but it feels like they're all watching him.

“How old are you, Jeongguk?” the one with the longish platinum hair, Namjoon, speaks up
after what feels like forever.

Jeongguk is so nervous about being addressed that it takes him a second to remember that he
isn't an awkward teenager anymore. “I'm, uh, twenty-two,” he gulps, looking down at his
hands.

Across from him, the one called Jimin whistles, drops back in his chair with a good-natured
laugh. “Wow, so you're Jin-hyung's age,” he muses. “Should I call you hyung, too?"

Jeongguk swallows and glances up at Seokjin, who smiles widely when their eyes meet. So
he really is the eldest, and apparently one of those who really cares about that status. He's a
little scary, his eyes bright and prodding, so Jeongguk drops his gaze back to his lap quickly.
He'd much rather be the youngest, really, would gladly give up the position if it meant he
could sit back quietly and observe instead of participating.

“What's your major in college?” Seokjin asks. “Or have you already graduated, too?”

Jeongguk's stomach sinks further. This is exactly the type of question he'd feared receiving.

Thankfully, as he tries to come up with an acceptable response that's somewhere between 'I
dropped out' and 'I failed,' Taehyung comes back from the front of the restaurant, carrying a
tall stack of clear cups and a water pitcher.

“Can someone help me?” he pouts. “Jeonggukie?”

Jeongguk starts to stand, but the guy sitting closest to Taehyung, Hoseok, is already twisting
back and taking the cups from his hand, pulling them apart to distribute them around the
table.

“So, what do you like to do?” the guy tries to pick up where they left off.

“Who?” Taehyung asks, stepping over to the elder's seat at the end of the table.

“Your boyfriend,” Jimin grins slyly.

Jeongguk glances at Taehyung and sees him smile, pressing his lips together and pouring
water into Seokjin's cup.

“Jeonggukie likes video games the most. Right, Guk?” he prompts.

Jeongguk tries not to cringe at how bad that sounds. He doesn't want to talk about himself,
especially not the gaming. He thinks it's already quite obvious that he's a nerd from his
scruffy look and anime tee, so he'd rather not hammer the final nail in his coffin by
discussing Overwatch at any length. That's not exactly the type of interest that will help him
fit in with this crowd. And he rarely brings the game up when he's with Taehyung anyway, so
he doesn't get why that's even coming up.

“I, uh, I do some coding too, I guess.” Or did. In college. But the last time he opened Sublime
was probably over 30 months ago.

“Shit, are you a software developer?” Hoseok gasps. “I heard that people with those jobs earn
some big bucks. Is that true?”

Jeongguk curses himself for not foreseeing that his response would only prolong the painful
topic. He squeezes his linked hands together under the table and bites his lip. “I couldn't tell
you,” he mumbles.

The blond with the deep voice clears his throat and leans across the table to pick up one of
the laminated menus. “Alright, less talking and more ordering, I'm starving over here,” he
mutters. “Let's get some lamb skewers going.”

With that, the attention is thankfully diverted from Jeongguk, and he nearly sags in relief,
wiping his clammy palms on the thighs of his sweatpants.

Stepping beside him to fill his water cup, Taehyung lays a hand on Jeongguk's shoulder.
Jeongguk is still somewhat on edge, a little irked that Taehyung brought up the gaming, but
he looks up at him and finds comfort in the familiar brown eyes, the pretty blue of his
hair. He grabs the loose pant of Taehyung's chinos under the table and holds on, willing him
to stay. But of course, he doesn't, just sets down the pitcher and walks around to his seat.

They order soups and noodles for the table, some appetizers to share. When he puts away the
menu after mumbling out his order, Jeongguk realizes that he forgot to bring his wallet, as
he'd initially never planned to have dinner with other people.

He gets a terrifying flashback of the time when his card didn't work at the convenience store
and realizes how horrifying it would be to go through a similar experience with Taehyung
and his cool friends.
He sweats, feels it prickle under his arms and between his shoulder blades.

“Taehyung,” he whispers, leaning forward a little. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Hm?” Taehyung smiles inquisitively. “What is it?”

“Uh…” The others seem to all be engaged in their own conversations, so he swallows and
mouths the words, “I gotta go.”

Taehyung's smile immediately drops, and he looks so damn disappointed that Jeongguk feels
it like a kick in the gut. He must be thinking of how Jeongguk ruined the movie night with his
friends that time, left early for no apparent reason and forced him to leave, too.

“Go where?” Taehyung asks quietly, a defeated whisper.

“Back home,” Jeongguk mouths, pressing his lips together and taking a deep breath. He
squeezes his hands into fists over his lap, swallows around the lump that builds in his throat
at the thought of disappointing the younger. “I forgot my wallet. I'll be back, I promise.”

“Oh.” Taehyung's face relaxes slightly, the furrow between his dark brows smoothing out, but
there's still a cautious look in his eyes, like he's hesitant to fully believe him. “Don't worry
about it, I'll cover for you.”

Jeongguk frowns. “But that soup I ordered was expensive. Yours, too.”

“It's okay, you can pay me back with dinner some other time,” Taehyung insists, smiling.
“Seriously, don't sweat it.”

Jeongguk doesn't like the thought of Taehyung paying for his expensive meal. It's stupid,
makes no sense when their building is only a few blocks away and they're waiting for their
food anyway. It just makes him think that Taehyung doesn't trust him to go home and come
back. He thinks he wouldn't.

But Jeongguk doesn't want to keep whispering about this with everyone around, certainly
doesn't want Taehyung to think that he's trying to leave because he hates his friends. He can't
disappoint him. He can't.

So he whispers, “okay,” even though he hates it.

When the appetizers arrive, Jeongguk doesn't touch them. There's a feeling of unease
upsetting his stomach, and it doesn't feel right to eat when he isn't paying.

He watches the college friends tear into the meat and bicker about who gets what, and
realizes how fundamentally different he is from them. They're normal, carefree. Taehyung
wouldn't worry about any of them leaving and never coming back.

“Jeongguk, what kind of game do you play?” handsome Seokjin asks suddenly, popping a
dumpling into his mouth.
Jeongguk blinks up, and this time, when he looks at the guy's face, he thinks he sees a
mocking glint in his eye, a cruel smirk to match the question. Why would a pretty boy like
him care about what video game a loser like Jeongguk plays? He could only be asking to
make fun of him.

“Overwatch,” Taehyung answers when he doesn't.

Jeongguk glances over quickly, not for the first time wondering how the fuck Taehyung even
knows that that's what he plays. He's pretty sure he never told him.

“Ah, that's the main one, the game with all the pro gamers, right?” the tall one with good hair
says, licking the tips of his chopsticks with a deep chuckle. “Ever wanted to go pro?"

Lowering his eyes, Jeongguk shakes his head. “No. It's just a game.”

“But you must like it a lot if you spend so much time getting good at it,” Taehyung says from
across the table, picking up a dumpling from the appetizer plate. “How hard can it be to play
professionally? Maybe you should give it a shot.”

“That's an extremely tough business, though,” Jimin pipes in, chewing on something. “I
heard that pro gamers play for like, 14 hours straight every day, barely get up to eat or piss or
shower.”

“Fuck, really?" Hoseok laughs. “So you just sit there all day? Someone should get them
diapers, that would make life so much easier.”

“Some of them legit already wear them,” Jimin gushes. “You know, cause once you start a
match, you can't pause it. Seriously, I read about this dude who went to a competition
wearing an actual diaper.”

A few people at the table groan in disgust, the others cackle. Jeongguk shrinks back in his
seat, wishing he were literally anywhere else. All he can think of is how they'd be laughing if
they knew how similar that is to what he does, except he doesn't get paid for it. There's a
lump in his throat again, a blockage the size of a car, and the certainty that he's being mocked
makes him feel small and powerless.

Even when the group moves on to another subject, laughing just as hard, he can't look anyone
in the eye anymore.

Taehyung seems to notice that something's off, most likely because he doesn't speak or look
up for a while, but when Jeongguk feels him nudge his foot under the table, he ignores it.

When a waitress brings out a tray with steaming bowls of food, Jeongguk has no interest in
eating despite how hungry he originally was. A stone pot of oxtail soup is placed in front of
him, bits of boiled beef floating in the creamy white broth, and even though this is the first
proper meal that's been presented to him in years, the sight of it makes his stomach turn.

Meanwhile, the others all dig into their dishes. They're ravenous, scarfing down the meat and
slurping at the soup like the group of healthy, developing young normies they are, and
Jeongguk envies them.

“Are you not hungry?” Jimin asks across from him, jerking a chin toward his untouched
bowl. “If you have leftovers, give them to me. That's basically a whole day's wages right
there.”

“Right?” Hoseok laughs. “I gotta work overtime this week to cover this expensive ass meal.
Thanks, guys.”

“Blame Jin-hyung, this was his idea,” Jimin snickers. “Just cause he has his fancy job in
production and can afford it.”

“Fancy? I'm a PA,” Seokjin cackles. “Who in the world would think that going out to buy the
crew Red Bull is fancy? It's horrible.”

“Yeah, but you're in the film industry, that in itself is fancy,” Jimin shoots back. “You get to
meet celebrities, know about dramas before they air, take pictures with directors. That's so
fucking cool. Don't you think it's cool, Jeongguk?"

Jeongguk raises his eyes at his name, glances at Jimin, who's looking at him with a smile,
then at Seokjin, who's rolling his eyes.

The only guy his age apparently already has an awesome job, and even the younger ones
sound like they have work and responsibilities. Like Taehyung, who goes out to hustle during
the week even though he doesn't have to.

If they all knew how Jeongguk leeches off his estranged rich dad, no degree, no job, no future
prospects or ambitions to speak of, they'd be disgusted by him.

“Guk?" Taehyung asks. “Is something wrong?”

Jeongguk stands up abruptly, metal chair scraping noisily across the floor. He needs to leave,
desperately, or he might throw up or pass out.

“'Scuse me,” he mumbles, turning around and stepping behind the chair. He feels dizzy all of
a sudden, knows the sweat from his armpits must be staining his damn shirt. He wipes his
forehead with the back of a hand. “Is there, um, a bathroom here?”

“No,” someone says. “You okay, buddy?”

Why does everyone keep asking him that? He must look like shit, he realizes, sweaty, pale,
and red in the face like he gets whenever he thinks about going outside.

Fuck. Of course he's freaking out. He is outside. What the hell was he thinking.

He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, wanting to leave some cash to cover the uneaten
meal so he can get the hell out, but then he remembers that he doesn't have it. The sliver of
independence, taken away from him.
He can feel all the eyes on the table on him, and it's too fucking late to take a seat and act
normal now—they already think he's weird as fuck. Already know he's messed up.

“Shit, I… I'm sorry.”

Burning up with shame, Jeongguk quickly rounds the table and dashes out of the room,
running toward the exit as quickly as his legs will take him. He hears Taehyung call out for
him, sees from his peripheral vision diners twist around to watch him go, but he doesn't stop
or look behind.

Yanking the front door open, he comes face-to-face with another group of friends about to
enter the restaurant. The guy at the front blinks in surprise at his face, drops his gaze to the
comic book character on Jeongguk's t-shirt, and Jeongguk quickly pushes past him before
these people can laugh or comment on how ugly and pathetic he is, too.

This time, the sounds of the street are anything but pleasant. The noise, the crowd, the lights
are unwelcome and frightening. The sidewalk is packed, people turning to look at him when
he bursts out of the restaurant, and he's somehow sure they can all tell from his face exactly
what just happened, how he bolted out and left a group of strangers to handle his bill and
dramatic exit.

He takes off into a sprint, running as fast as he can toward his building a few streets over.
Screeching car tires and long, held honks tell him that he's fucking up over and over, running
in front of vehicles, disrupting traffic, and bothering every single human being around him,
but he doesn't stop to check, completely focused on getting back home as quickly as possible.
He should've never fucking left.

“Jeongguk!” he thinks he hears, the deep voice familiar, but that just makes him run faster.

By the time he reaches the building, he's panting with the effort of running, his face hot and
soaked. He jumps up the steps and reaches into his pocket for the keys, only to realize that
he's forgotten those, too.

“Fuck!” he shouts, kicking the old wood and cursing its existence. “Fuck you! I fucking hate
you. You're a fucking piece of shit. Why can't you do anything right?"

He hears running on the pavement right behind him, feet racing up the steps of the building
and heavy breathing at his back. “Jeongguk, are you o—”

“I don't have my fucking keys,” he snaps, pressing fists against the door and glaring at it
wetly. “Just open the damn door.”

He doesn't move to get out of the way, keeps facing the door so Taehyung won't see the tears,
and the neighbor seems to hesitate for a moment before fishing out his keys, reaching around
Jeongguk's body to find the lock. Jeongguk looks down at the blurred shape of his keychain
plush, then quickly pushes the door open when the lock clicks.

“H-Hey! Wait!” Taehyung cries, grabbing the back of his shirt to hold him back. But
Jeongguk doesn't stop, pushes against the grip until the seams of his shirt give, the stitching
of the fabric tearing audibly somewhere before Taehyung releases him with a shocked gasp.
“Guk! What the fuck, stop running!”

Jeongguk runs past the elevator to the emergency stairwell at the side, Taehyung hot on his
heels. He pushes the heavy door and takes two steps at a time, hoping to put some distance
between them. But it's a hopeless fight when he's miserably out of shape, already tired from
racing the whole way back home. This is more exercise than he's had in years of sedentary
living.

By the time he passes the doorway to the fourth floor, he's sweating and breathing so hard his
vision is starting to swim. A wave of vertigo hits, sending the stairway spinning around him,
and he only barely manages to slap a hand over the railing and catch himself as his foot slips
over the edge of a step.

Behind him, Taehyung gasps, presses a hand against the small of Jeongguk's back like he's
trying to catch him, and Jeongguk can't stand it anymore.

“I don't need your help,” he snarls, yanking away and pushing up to the next step, ignoring
the dizziness and black spots that dot his vision. “Mind your own fucking business for once
in your life.”

“Why are you mad?” Taehyung asks, panting. “You stormed out and I, I don't know what's
wrong, I—”

“Why are you here?” he shoots back, continuing up.

“Because you ran away all of a sudden. B-Because I think you're having a panic attack.”

“What?”

“You're having a panic attack,” Taehyung repeats.

He grabs the back of Jeongguk's shirt again, and when Jeongguk feels the pull and tries to
yank away this time, the dizziness blurs his vision almost entirely. He weakly slaps the hand
away instead, drops back against a wall and sags down to catch his breath.

Turning away, he wipes his snot and tears with the back of a hand. “That's ridiculous. What
are you even saying?”

“I'm telling you that you're having a panic attack, and that it's probably my fault.” Jeongguk
frowns and Taehyung sighs shakily, leaning back against the railing directly across from him.
Jeongguk risks a glance up at Taehyung and sees that his blue hair is windblown and pushed
back from his face, his cheeks flushed with exertion. “I shouldn't have given you that vape,”
the younger continues. “The weed probably made things worse.”

“Made what worse?" Jeongguk demands. “Me?”

Taehyung meets his eyes, and just from looking at them, Jeongguk knows that there's more to
that comment.
He furrows his brows, the wheels in his head spinning.

Taehyung mentioned you'd never smoked before.

Jeongguk frowns. “Did you ask that guy for drugs for me?”

Taehyung presses his lips together, looking down. He swallows visibly, then nods.

Jeongguk opens his mouth, realizes why Taehyung must've wanted him to do drugs with
supposed mental benefits. He wanted Jeongguk to be high during sex, to be too overwhelmed
and easy-going afterward to say no to dinner with his friends.

And recognizing this makes him think of all the other small things Taehyung had made him
do that he hadn't questioned so far. Why he not-so-spontaneously took him out to the pool,
the convenience store, around the block. Why everyone on the online forum seemed to think
that his neighbor already knew he was a NEET when he recounted bits of their story.

Taehyung did those things because he does know. Knows the extent of Jeongguk's antisocial
tendencies, knows that there's something deeply wrong with him. Knows everything
Jeongguk decided not to share because it made him so terribly ashamed, and pretended not to
know all this time. Pretended he believed Jeongguk was a normal person, befriended him and
humored him and knew all along.

Jeongguk suddenly feels nauseous, like he's really about to throw up. Stumbling up to the
next flat level, he grabs at the railing and leans forward, right over the edge of the stairwell,
just in case he really does puke. Taehyung pushes off the rail and runs up toward him,
grabbing his arm and yanking him back with undue urgency, and Jeongguk realizes with
sudden horror that the younger is afraid he'll try to jump off.

Shoving the neighbor's hand away, Jeongguk swallows back the bile that rises in his throat.
He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling everything around him sway like he's on a sinking boat in
the middle of a storm. He presses a hand over his face and takes a step back.

“Jeongguk, talk to me,” Taehyung begs. “I want to help you.”

“Help me?” he scoffs, angrily wiping at the tears that flow out of his closed eyes. “Like you
helped me just now, drugging me and dragging me out to spend time with a bunch of people I
don't know?”

“I'm really sorry, I didn't think—”

“Didn't think I'd be so weird if I was high? Thought you could make me normal?”

“You are normal.”

“Shut up, you don't actually think so,” he growls, so pissed off at himself and sick to his
stomach at the knowledge that Taehyung knows that he can't hold back the anger and hurt. He
opens his eyes and looks at Taehyung's concerned face and doesn't trust it, doesn't believe a
word he's saying when it feels like the last few months have all been a lie. “When did you
realize how fucked up I am?”
“What?" Taehyung asks weakly, looking nervous.

“Stop pretending!” he shouts, smacking the railing so hard the metal shudders, the sound of it
echoing throughout the stairwell shaft. “When did you realize that there's something wrong
with me?”

“There's nothing wrong with y—” Taehyung starts, but Jeongguk hits the railing again to cut
him off. He shoots the neighbor a wet death glare that probably reveals every poisonous
thought in his head, and Taehyung grimaces, furrowing his brows. He sucks in a deep,
shuddery breath before continuing shakily, “I… I guess, if you're asking me when I noticed
that you stay inside your place a lot, that would probably be a few days after I moved in,
when I started seeing that you got stuff delivered all the time.”

Jeongguk swallows thickly and feels like an idiot for not realizing that the neighbor would
notice the grocery bags left at his door. He tended to let them sit out in the hallway for a
while, too, often forgetting all about them when he waited for the delivery people to leave.

“That can't be it, though,” he frowns. “How did you know I wasn't just busy somewhere else
during the day?”

Taehyung doesn't answer for a second, so he looks up and sees him with his arms wrapped
around himself, shivering. “Can we please stop talking about this? It doesn't matter, and I
don't like how you're being right now.”

“I need to fucking know,” Jeongguk hisses, tightening his hands around the rail and
squeezing it until his knuckles bleach white.

“I don't know, I…” Taehyung's face is bright red now, his eyes shining with unshed tears, like
this is somehow equally hard on him. But it isn't. It can't possibly be. “I could hear you
playing video games all night, sometimes all day, and I… I guess I just put two and two
together when you told me you dropped out of college.”

Jeongguk blinks, horrified. The neighbors can hear him when he plays Overwatch? If
Taehyung heard across the hall, it must be the thin walls of the bedroom giving him away,
and he wants to smack himself for being such an idiot.

He thought—he thought he was always the only one watching, the only one who noticed
others in the building because he had nothing else to do, but he had forgotten that all the
neighbors are in the same situation, hearing and seeing the same sights and sounds in their
identical little city boxes. When people live in such close quarters, privacy is only an
illusion.

“Fuck,” he groans, so, so embarrassed. He pushes off the railing and continues up the
stairwell with a hollow feeling in his chest. Do all of the neighbors know he's a hermit? Does
that mean his parents know, too? “Fuck. Oh god, no. Please no.”

“Jeongguk, don't… Don't be so hard on yourself,” he hears Taehyung say, his footsteps
jogging up to catch up to him on the stairs. “You're obviously going through a difficult time
right now, but—”
“Can you just stop?” Jeongguk pauses, turning around to look at him as his eyes well up
again, against his will. “Is this fun for you? Do you get off on thinking that you're improving
me somehow?”

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, pausing at the stairs, too. His throat bobs as he swallows,
and he shakes his head with his lips pressed flat.

But he does. He's got to. A carefree guy like him, no real problems and a bunch of friends,
parents who care about his development and a cushy family business to return to once he's
done with art school. Taehyung is a kid, well-intentioned but naive, and he's done all of this
thinking he's doing a sad guy a favor.

Jeongguk had gone all this time believing they were getting closer naturally when in reality, it
had been anything but natural. He wasn't improving from his condition. He was just being
coerced.

He turns away, continues up the steps with more fat tears dripping from his chin. “Did you
ever even like me?”

“Of course!” Taehyung hurries up the steps to catch up, grabs the back of his shirt again, but
Jeongguk doesn't stop. “I do like you, Guk. I like you a lot.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Bullshit.”

“Why? Why would it be bullshit?” Taehyung presses, apparently giving up on holding him
back by the shirt and walking up the stairs beside him instead, still gripping the fabric. “I
gave you a bunch of reasons why earlier, didn't I? Before we had sex.”

“I can't believe you went that far,” Jeongguk mutters, sniffling.

“What do you mean?”

“I can't believe you had sex with me.”

Taehyung scoffs, making Jeongguk's shirt pull around his arms from how tightly he squeezes
at it. “You really have to stop saying that. You're really nice, and really handsome, too. Do
you ever look in the mirror?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. He looks in the mirror plenty, which is exactly why he knows that
a pretty person like Taehyung wouldn't typically go for him. Other factors must be at play.

“You just feel sorry for me,” he says. “You're too fucking nice.”

“Don't be dumb, Jeongguk,” Taehyung mutters, wiping at his own face and dropping his hand
from the back of his shirt. “I like you, that's why I'm nice to you.”

Jeongguk snorts, not believing for a second that Taehyung isn't nice like this to everyone else.
He baked him fucking cookies before he even met him, added frosting and sprinkles and all
that shit others wouldn't typically go through the trouble to add.
No one's ever been so kind to him before, but he isn't stupid enough to think that who he is
matters in how Taehyung treats him. He'd do the same for anyone else because that's just the
type of person he is.

When they finally reach the ninth floor, Jeongguk wants to take off and lock himself away at
home, but his apartment keys must be in Taehyung's bedroom where he left them earlier, so
he's forced to stick around to get them back.

They walk down the hall and Jeongguk notices that he can indeed hear sounds coming from
the other apartments, TVs on in bedrooms and voices poorly muffled by the walls. If he'd
spent more time going in and out, he would've noticed this and saved himself a whole lot of
embarrassment.

Taehyung unlocks his apartment in silence, seems to be done with Jeongguk's shit, and
Jeongguk walks past him inside when he opens the door.

The cushions the others were using to sit are still on the floor, the corner of the shag rug
flipped up, and Jeongguk is reminded of the state Taehyung's apartment was in the first time
he saw it, right after Taehyung's Christmas party when he helped him back home after he
accidentally came to his place instead.

He thinks about what happened that night as he rounds the corner to Taehyung's bedroom.
The younger had been pretty drunk then, drunker than Jeongguk has seen him since, and had
almost definitely been flirting with him when he asked him to take his socks off in the sexiest
manner possible.

Jeongguk's keys are sitting on the floor by the bed, where he dropped them aside to lounge
comfortably in his sweats as he waited for Taehyung to finish his shower after sex. He leans
down and scoops them up, eyes lingering on the purple condom box, the top torn open.

When he walks back to the living room, he finds Taehyung sitting on his red couch, wiping
his flushed, damp face with his hands. He doesn't look up at Jeongguk when he emerges from
the bedroom, just hunches over and uses the hem of his shirt to wipe his face instead.

Jeongguk feels sick all over again watching him cry, knowing that it's his fault. He
approaches cautiously, but hesitates when he realizes that he has no idea what to say. Should
he comfort him? Apologize for yelling? Ask him why it is that he's crying?

He stops, squeezes the apartment keys in his hand until the ridges bite into his palm. Slowly,
he turns around and walks down the hallway instead, leaving quietly and pulling the front
door shut behind himself.

Jeongguk unlocks unit 9D and steps in, and when he sees the familiar empty apartment, stale
and unwelcoming, accumulated trash piled around the full garbage can, he thinks he's never
hated anything as much in his life.

He tosses the apartment keys across the room and locks himself up in the bathroom.
Chapter End Notes

new curiouscat
moodboard
 List of People
Chapter Summary

Now I gotta add you to my list of people to try and forget about.

Chapter Notes

how's everybody been? i hope you're well and taking care of yourselves!

in this chapter, there's a brief description of a fairly debilitating panic attack. nothing too
explicit or unlike what you've already read, but i thought i should give some type of
warning. happy reading.

mood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The next day, Jeongguk opens swollen, heavy eyelids and glances at the alarm clock on the
nightstand. It's 8:09 a.m. Too fucking early. He got three hours of sleep, stayed up all night
locked inside the bathroom. Closing his eyes, he rolls to the other side of the bed and returns
to sleep.

When he stirs awake again, the alarm clock reads 1:23 p.m. Still too early. He closes his eyes
and prays for sleep until it comes.

The third time he wakes, he doesn't bother looking at the clock. It doesn't matter what time it
is because nothing will ever be late enough. He wants it to be nighttime again so he can
return to sleep. Sleep is good, sleep is comfortable. In sleep, he has no thoughts, and any he
does have are wiped away soon after he opens his eyes. In sleep, nothing matters, and that's
all that does.

When he gets hungry, he ignores the pangs and grumbles of his stomach, willing all feeling
away so he can stay in bed for longer. He closes his eyes and returns to dreamland.
It's only when he can't fall asleep anymore no matter how long he keeps his eyes shut that he
rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand. It's been on silent for the past few hours,
and he checks it because he's apparently a masochist.

There are 5 missed calls and 12 text messages. All from the same number,
obviously. Swiping away the notifications to hide them, he locks the phone, tosses it back on
the nightstand.

He closes his eyes again, flipping face down on the bed. He imagines sinking into it further,
becoming one with the mattress. What a treat that would be.

When he reopens his eyes, the clock reads 5:37 p.m. and the pangs of hunger are much harder
to ignore.

Sitting up, he wipes the crud from his eyes and slides out of bed.

In the living room, the sun is still shining through the windows, albeit faintly. He walks to the
kitchen and grabs a bowl and a box of cereal from the cabinets. The packaging inside the
cereal box is almost empty, little more than one full serving left. Wanting to conserve the
food, he pours half of the remaining contents into the bowl, topping it off with the rice milk
he always buys because it takes longer than the real thing to expire. But he's nearly out of
that, too, and it's probably past the expiration date printed on the carton. Not that he gives a
shit. What else is he supposed to eat?

Jeongguk eats the cereal in silence, standing by the sink. He usually has his laptop to keep
him company, but doesn't feel like listening to noise today.

Silence is good. Silence is honest. He's alone, and it is what it is. No use pretending he's
something he isn't.

After eating, he returns to bed. He lies down and closes his eyes, crying a little—in silence,
because now he knows better than to make any noise while he's in this room. He thinks about
what a sad fuck he is, what he must look like to other people.

If he could just go back in time, he wouldn't have opened the door for the neighbor when he
came knocking on Christmas Eve. He would stay quiet, pretend he wasn't home. That's what
his past self should've done anyway, and he wonders what the fuck he was thinking when he
opened the door for a stranger. That was so out of character for him. He must've been so
fucking bored and lonely to even consider something like that.

Suddenly, his phone lights up on the nightstand, the neighbor's name and picture filling the
screen.

The photo is one Taehyung sent him from the cherry blossom festival a couple of weekends
ago. In the image, he's smiling brightly, blue hair vibrant against the whitish-pink buds.
Jeongguk had picked that image for his caller ID because he found it pretty, thought it
encapsulated the neighbor's happy, cheerful spirit.
Looking at it now is humiliating. Back then, Taehyung had never believed that he was too
busy to go to the event. He spent the whole day knowing that Jeongguk's a liar and a failure
who can't even step out of his place. May have even told his friends as much, laughed and
talked about him behind his back.

Reaching out, Jeongguk flips the phone over and holds down the power button, turning it off.
He ends up crying again, stifles the sound of it with a pillow.

He wants to go back in time so bad it hurts.

The next day, Jeongguk opens swollen, heavy eyelids and stares up at the ceiling. There's
some sunlight coming in through the window, and he figures it must be early because of how
soft the glow cast over the white paint is. It feels like he's been sleeping forever, but it
must've been just a few hours ago when he was finally able to stop thinking and fall asleep.
Closing his eyes, he rolls to his stomach in bed. Sleep comes quickly, thankfully.

When he wakes again, he's facing the window. The streak of light is coming in through a
crack in the blackout curtains, ruining the perfect darkness of the room. He stares at the sun
for a long time before getting up and yanking the curtains shut. He returns to bed with a huff.

The third time he wakes, it's to the sound of the doorbell. The ring is timid at first, just a
quick press of a button, then more insistent as the doorbell is held down.

There's only one person that could be, and Jeongguk presses a pillow over his face to muffle
a painful, pathetic noise. The worst part is how bad he wants to get up and answer the door.
Not necessarily to say anything, but just to look at Taehyung. The last time he saw him, he
was crying. The image is burned into his mind, Taehyung's usually smiling face twisted and
tearful, not even looking at him. He wishes he could erase the memory. Then maybe he'd feel
less like a piece of shit.

The doorbell buzzes and buzzes, and he waits and waits. Soon enough, it's quiet again.

When the clock on the nightstand reads 6:04 p.m., he gets hungry. He tries ignoring it at first,
but the longer he lies in bed and ignores everything, the more his body hurts. Eventually, he
gets up and heads to the kitchen. He pours the last of the cereal and milk into a bowl, eats
breakfast standing by the sink.
Outside the living room windows, the sky is gray and cloudy. Not that Jeongguk gives a fuck
about the weather, because he's never stepping foot out of the apartment again. He should've
never left in the first place. Inside is where he belongs, where he has control and nothing
painful ever happens.

Inside is where he's staying for the rest of his life.

After eating, he returns to bed and pulls his phone out of the drawer on the nightstand. There
are 18 new texts and 7 missed calls. He swipes over the screen to hide the notifications, then
decides to delete the caller's contact.

Not seeing that name and picture every time will make it easier to forget him, move on with
his life as quickly as possible and pretend nothing ever happened.

Jeongguk opens the contact card, but when he catches a glimpse of blue hair in the profile
image, he clicks the home button instead of delete. He's weak. So fucking weak.

For the rest of the day, he lies in bed and scrolls through internet forums. He likes reading
posts about other people's problems, many of which sound much more significant than his
own—a NEET being evicted, a teen who just found out she's pregnant, a man whose wife has
a terminal illness. He reads their stories and briefly forgets about his own messed-up life.

When he gets hungry again, he tosses the phone aside and closes his eyes, ignoring the pain
in his belly until he falls asleep.

The last time he checks, the alarm clock reads 8:23 p.m. He's finally going to bed at a
reasonable hour. Somewhere in the world, his mother is proud (she isn't).

The next day, Jeongguk opens swollen, heavy eyelids and listens to the sound of knocking on
the door.

He hears his name in a familiar deep voice and considers all of the different things he could
shout out in return. 'Go away,' would be a good one. 'Leave me alone,' to state the obvious. 'I
never want to see your fucking face again, you liar,' would probably get him to leave pretty
quick. He wants to say it, but he closes his eyes and stays silent.

Thirty-seven minutes later, the knocking stops.

When he wakes up again, he's so hungry it feels like he's dying. He folds his arms over his
stomach and presses them in to hold himself together. The pain eventually subsides enough
that he's able to think somewhat clearly, and he realizes that he might still have rice
somewhere in the kitchen. Sliding out of bed, he walks out of the room.

Aside from condiments and frozen vegetables he can't remember buying, the fridge is empty.
The cabinets have rice and canned tuna, a pitiful sight. Ordering food for delivery would
probably be the wisest move, but he can't stand the thought of potentially receiving a phone
call, opening the door to grab an order, having people see and hear him from their
apartments. He just wants everyone to forget that he exists.

So he makes some rice in the rice cooker, defrosts frozen peas in the microwave. He tosses
all of it in a bowl, stirring in some salt and ketchup. It tastes revolting, but he scrapes the
bowl clean anyway.

After lunch, Jeongguk returns to the bedroom. Grabbing his computer from the floor, he sits
on the bed and props it over his lap, launching Overwatch. There are ten players from his
group online, two active in a match. There's a voice chat going on, but he doesn't join as he
perhaps would have before finding out that people can hear him from the hallway.

Slipping his headset over his ears, he settles against the headboard and starts a game, only
using the text chat. When his team asks him to join through voice, he ignores them until they
stop asking.

At 5:58 p.m., he's unbearably hungry again. He isn't used to depriving himself of food like
this, usually snacks throughout the day so he doesn't have to eat full meals. He would order
delivery, but he's afraid that Taehyung might notice, intercept the exchange and use it as a
chance to get to him.

—or worse, not bother at all.

Eating rice topped with canned tuna to hold himself over, he waits until 3 a.m. to order food.
It's a weekday, so it's highly unlikely that any of the neighbors are still awake. There are a
few restaurants open in the area to cater to SNU students, so finding a place that delivers at
this hour isn't too difficult. He orders three large pizzas, which is hopefully enough to feed
him for the rest of the week.

Twenty minutes later, when the intercom rings, he runs to the door and clicks the button to let
the deliveryperson into the building. Leaning against the door, he looks out the peephole and
watches for any sign of movement in the hall.

As soon as the deliveryman walks into view, Jeongguk opens the door and keeps his eyes
down as he takes the three boxes. When he sees the man's feet walk away, he looks up.

The door to 9A remains closed. He counts to ten slowly, then swallows the lump in his throat
and shuts the door.
The next day, Jeongguk opens swollen, heavy eyelids and rolls to his side in bed, staring at
his phone on the nightstand.

He wonders how many missed calls and texts he has today, if they're fewer than yesterday.
He hasn't read any of the messages or listened to the voicemails, and doesn't plan on ever
doing so. No matter what the neighbor has to say, he isn't about to let him play around with
him anymore. Taehyung would make up stories again, pretend that he feels more than just
pity for Jeongguk to try and get him to do his bidding.

Jeongguk refuses to be another of his craft projects.

He isn't going to change his mind no matter what Taehyung has to say, but doesn't want to
hear what it is. He needs to forget him quickly and get back to normal life as soon as
possible.

Swallowing around a lump, he reaches over and grabs his phone from the nightstand, swiping
away the notifications and opening the camera roll instead. He doesn't use the camera on his
phone, so the images saved are all memes and photos he's exchanged with Taehyung over the
past few weeks. There are selfies taken in the dark, the younger neighbor grinning or
showing him the jewelry he made or trying to look cute. Jeongguk clicks on each of the
photos to select them, water gathering in his eyes as he steels himself for what he's about to
do.

He presses delete, then confirms the deletion and watches all the memories he cherished for
weeks get wiped away.

“I'm not a piece of jewelry,” he mutters bitterly, scrolling up and deleting more pictures until
he reaches a two-year gap between shots.

His finger pauses on the screen when he gets to the content from before he shut himself away.
There are pictures of birds perched on park benches, orange sunset skies, and random spots
around his college campus he found pretty. When he scrolls further up, there are even a few
shots he took of his former roommates—Jaehyun making a mess in the kitchen, Mingyu
cleaning the toilet, Eunwoo playing the violin.

It's weird seeing those photos, the familiar faces haunting him like ghosts. He hasn't seen or
thought of them in a long time.

Something uncomfortable twists in his heart, and he hastily clicks out of the camera roll,
tossing away the device with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
He must be hungry again. He ate a whole pizza last night, but his insides feel empty like he
hasn't had a bite in a month. He might throw up, any moment now.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he curls up in bed and waits for that, too, to pass.

The next day, Jeongguk opens swollen, heavy eyelids and listens to a voice call his name
from outside of the apartment.

"Jeongguk,” the voice says, muffled through the front door. "Jeongguk, please pick up your
phone.”

Jeongguk flips over in bed to face the open bedroom doorway. His phone is at his side,
vibrating with a call for the third time that morning. But he doesn't move to check the screen
or answer it, only listens.

"Jeongguk, please,” the voice comes again. “Please just say something.”

Jeongguk doesn't want to. He wants the voice to go away. He only just managed to fall asleep
after hours of tossing and turning, and he's so fucking tired. He wants to go back to sleep. He
closes his eyes.

“Gukie,” the voice seems to be crying now, hiccups breaking through the words. “I just want
to know that you're okay. Please just say something. Anything. Just a hey is fine. Please
answer.”

A lump rises in Jeongguk's throat, unwanted and debilitating. He wants to cry, but he's cried
so much in the past few days that the tears seem to have dried up. He swallows thickly.

“Hey,” he calls out hoarsely, the sound loud in the silent room.

Outside, the voice gasps and stops crying, like it's holding its breath. Probably waiting for
Jeongguk to say something else, but he doesn't. He's just answering so the neighbor will leave
him alone.

Rolling to face the other way, he grabs the extra pillow and presses it over his exposed ear to
muffle the other noises that come.
The next day, Jeongguk opens swollen, heavy eyelids and wakes from a dream about the
neighbor.

In the dream, a dizzying mixture of memory and fantasy, Jeongguk was the star of his high
school baseball team and playing a game that wasn't digital. Taehyung was there, watching
from the sidelines, and shouted indiscernible words of encouragement as he ran from base to
base. When Jeongguk completed a home run, no opponents on the field to try and stop him,
he ran straight into Taehyung's waiting arms. The younger wrapped both arms around him,
held him close and stroked his hair. When Jeongguk tried to hug him back, he vanished into
thin air.

As he comes to, Jeongguk realizes he has tears on his face. Sitting up, he wipes his cheeks
with his fingers, wonders why he's thinking of high school of all things. He didn't even enjoy
high school, baseball team be damned.

Needing to put his mind to something else, he slides out of bed and stands up. His back hurts,
the product of lying in uncomfortable positions for nearly a week straight. Remembering old
words from a former coach, he stretches his arms above his head, hears his shoulders pop and
holds the pose for a few seconds. When he relaxes from the stance, he feels slightly more
comfortable.

He walks to the kitchen, pushing open the pizza box on the counter and picking up a cheese
slice. He finishes it off in a few bites, feeling gross but satisfied. He wipes his fingers on his
shirt thoughtlessly, then glances down and sees that the white fabric already has a few stains
on it. He hasn't changed it since he last left the apartment.

Pulling the shirt off over his head, he notices that he stinks, too. And bad. Wrinkling his nose,
he carries the garment to the hamper in the coat closet, dropping it into the overflowing bin.
He steps out of his sweats and boxers and drops those into the basket as well. He needs a
shower.

As usual, cleaning up is oddly nice, almost makes him feel like a real person. There's little he
enjoys more than standing under the spray of the warm water for several minutes, unusual
calm sweeping over his mind.

When he steps out of the shower stall, he catches a glimpse of himself in the half-fogged
mirror. His wet hair curls around his nape, overgrown bangs falling over his eyes and
brushing down as far as his upper lip. He runs a hand through it, only now realizing just how
long he let it get. Before, his hair was always neat and short, buzzed at the sides. Like this, he
can barely recognize himself.

He debates whether to give himself another quick trim but then remembers that there's no
point in it. He isn't ever leaving the apartment again or meeting up with anyone who knows
him. What he looks like doesn't matter--what a relief.

Back in the bedroom, he has a tough time finding clean clothes to wear. A few shirts stuffed
into his dresser turn out not to smell so fresh, and he only has one pair of folded boxers left.
After finally washing up, he doesn't feel like putting dirty clothes back on.

He glances at the clock on the nightstand. It's 3:12 p.m., which gives him a little less than two
hours to use the laundry room before the neighbor returns from college. It's cutting it close,
but he thinks he can do it.

Quickly putting on jeans and one of his last clean shirts, Jeongguk gathers the dirty clothing
from the floor, the dresser, and his desk chair, rushing out to dump them in the hamper. He
grabs the apartment keys from the living room, the detergent in the closet, and lifts the full
basket from the floor to carry it out. There's no time to waste. He has to be quick.

The hallway is silent when he steps out. He looks both ways to make sure he's alone, then
pulls the door shut quietly behind him.

As usual, he takes the service elevator down so he doesn't cross paths with any of the
neighbors. When the doors open into the basement, he hears the sounds of washing machines
already running and considers going back home and returning some other time. But
Taehyung is due back in just a few hours, so this is his last chance to do the laundry and get
clean clothes today.

He has to keep going.

Tiptoeing toward the laundry room, he listens for any noise that might indicate that there are
other people around. His heart pounds anxiously, every muscle in his body tense with
apprehension, but it soon becomes clear that there's nothing to fear. When he peers through
the doorway, the laundry room is empty.

Relaxing, he walks in and finds a free washer in the corner. He sets the hamper and detergent
down and pops the lid open, loading his clothes into the machine.

As he's filling the pull compartment with liquid detergent, someone walks in. He tenses when
he hears the footsteps, heart stuttering at the thought of who it might be. When he glances
over his shoulder, though, he's disappointed to find an unfamiliar face. It's just an older man
who smiles and nods at him when their eyes meet. Jeongguk nods back a greeting, then
quickly looks away.

After turning on the washing machine, he gathers his things and walks back to the service
elevator. The doors open right away, the elevator still there waiting. He steps in and takes a
deep breath, reminding himself that this is precisely what he wanted.
He gets off on the ninth floor, looking down at the hamper dejectedly. He's so immersed in
his thoughts as he walks down the hallway that it isn't until he looks up to unlock the door
that he spots the other person there.

Taehyung is out in the hall, sitting on the floor and leaning back against Jeongguk's front
door. He's looking up at him, big brown eyes bloodshot and swollen. His mouth is hanging
open.

Jeongguk is so shocked to see him that he stops in his tracks. His insides all sink to his feet,
blood immediately leaving his brain and making him lightheaded. “Y-You shouldn't be here,”
he says, swallowing thickly. “You should be in class.”

Taehyung blinks, looking just as surprised as he feels, and quickly wipes his face with a hand.
He stands up with a slight wobble. “It's Saturday.”

Oh. Jeongguk wants to smack himself for not checking before he left. He could've sworn it
was only Wednesday. Where did Thursday go, Friday? What did he even do on those days?
He can't remember.

Pursing his lips, he tightens his arms around the hamper and squeezes the handle of the
detergent bottle. He almost asks Taehyung what he's doing out here, but that much is obvious.
He's waiting for Jeongguk to come out of his place, like a cat waiting to corner a mouse. He's
still blocking the path to the door.

“Can you excuse me?” he says, coolly.

“Guk, I—”

“—I'm not talking to you.”

Taehyung bites his lip, lowering his head until his blue hair covers his eyes. Jeongguk expects
him to argue or try to defend himself, but he just steps aside to make way for him.

Jeongguk reaches into his pocket with his free hand and moves toward the door, using the
key to unlock it. Taehyung just stands there, not raising his head or trying to stop him. But
once Jeongguk is back in his apartment, closing the door between them, he speaks up:

“You're outside,” he whispers. “I'm glad.”

It takes Jeongguk shutting the door and being back inside his prison to realize the meaning
behind those words.

He is outside. Somehow, he hadn't even noticed.

The next day, Jeongguk opens his eyes and decides it can't hurt to take a look at some of the
messages Taehyung left him. He'll always wonder what they say if he doesn't read them, but
once he knows for sure, he can finally stop thinking about them. About him.

Taking a deep breath, he grabs his phone from the nightstand and squints at the screen as it
lights up. He hasn't changed it in a while, so the battery's at 6%. The lock screen is cluttered
with notifications, replies to comments he made online, useless gaming adverts, and 13
missed calls and 10 text messages.

What makes him do a double take is that, for once, they're not all from the same caller. Three
of the calls and one of the texts are from an unsaved number, the string of characters
appearing just below Taehyung's name.

Uneasy, Jeongguk lets the phone slip from his hand, any motivation he just had gone entirely.
Who could that possibly be? It can't be anything good. Nothing different has ever been good.

Curling up in bed with a frown, he flips over to look at the window. The curtains are cracked
again, sunlight coming in through a gap in the center. He sees a hint of the world outside, bits
of blue sky and shadows from surrounding buildings. The view reminds him of what it was
like out there—noisy, overwhelming, like sensory overload. He never used to think these
things before, but now he's another person. A lesser person. Barely a person at all.

Closing his eyes, he attempts to go back to sleep. He lays in the same position for several
minutes, tensing and relaxing each muscle like he read that he should do to fall asleep
quicker. His mind, however, stays alert.

Who could that possibly be?

Disquieted, he sits up in bed. He snatches the phone and raises it to his face, deciding to rip
the bandaid off. For all he knows, it could be Taehyung reaching out from another number,
perhaps one of his friends' phones. Nothing unusual.

He unlocks the phone and clicks on the texts, a total of 72 unread messages. Most of those
are from Taehyung, but he clicks on the tab with the single notification from the unknown
number.

He holds his breath.

Jeongguk,

This is Sooyoung. I tried calling, but you appear to be busy.

Please give me a call when you get a chance, I have something important I need to tell you.
 Received 10:24 AM

Jeongguk widens his eyes, reading the message over and over.

In the six years since she's been married to his father, his stepmother has never reached out to
him directly. He knows that she exists and she knows that he exists, but they've hardly
interacted since his father's wedding, which he was forced to attend. And now, her words
have an undercurrent of foreboding—something important she needs to tell him? Why
couldn't she just have said what it is over text?

Feeling sick, Jeongguk pushes the phone aside and slides out of bed. He curses himself for
looking at the message, would rather go back to blissful ignorance on what he missed over
the past few days.

If his stepmother is having another kid, it makes little difference to him. If she's divorcing his
dad and taking everything, that's none of his business. If she wants to warn him that his father
is cutting him off, there's nothing he can do about it. If she wants something from him, he has
nothing to give.

Jeongguk stumbles to the bathroom, suddenly feeling so ill his vision starts to swim in an all-
too-familiar way. Sweat prickles at the back of his neck, his queasy stomach turning until all
he can do is drop to his knees, grab at the toilet bowl, bend over it, and wait for the vomit to
come. But it doesn't, the nausea lingering, so he lies down on the cold floor and takes ragged
breaths through his nose.

A panic attack. That must be what this is, what the neighbor told him about. He's been like
this for so long that he stopped questioning it, assumed every loser sometimes had trouble
breathing because of the crushing weight of the world. This is just one of the more crippling
reactions.

Skin hot and covered in sweat, he shivers and then doesn't stop, gasping as he tries to catch
his breath. He thinks of his parents, how heartbreaking their split was when he was a
teenager, how both of them have now moved on with their lives and don't give a shit about
him anymore. Just like his college roommates, his old baseball team, and every single person
Jeongguk's ever cared about.

In the end, none of them ever love him back.

Thankfully, it's all over in a few minutes, the shaking and the sobbing and the panting. He
calms down, nervous energy seeped out of him and drying on his cheeks. All he's left with
are heavy limbs and a general sense of numbness that he welcomes over the hurt. And fuck,
does he hurt.

For the next few hours, Jeongguk wanders through the apartment, ignoring the phone in his
bedroom and busying himself with menial tasks. Scrubbing the countertops clean, wiping the
dusty windowsills, rearranging the couch so it's away from the sun. He does all of these
things in hopes of forgetting the message his stepmother sent him, but it doesn't work. Of
course it doesn't.

The longer he wonders what she could want with him, the more anxious he becomes. He
considers sending the woman a text back, but doesn't want to risk her knowing that he
received it. This way, ignoring it, he can just pretend he never got it, go on with his life and
forget all about it.

So for the rest of the day, he curls up in bed, watches the first show he finds on Netflix, and
tries his damnedest to.

That night, Jeongguk dreams again.

He's on the baseball field, swinging at a curveball that flies his way. He puts no strength
behind it, but the bat sends the ball hurtling up toward the sky, disappearing somewhere in
the distance. He drops the bat and takes off running, heading toward the first base, but instead
of getting closer, the white square moves farther away. The more he runs, the more out of
reach his goal becomes, even as he pushes his legs faster than physically possible.

Just as he starts feeling helpless, he hears the voice that cheers him on. It calls out his name,
encourages him to keep at it. He wants to look over and see who it is, but no matter how hard
he wills it to, his head won't turn the way he wants it to. He isn't in control of himself, is just
running mindlessly toward something he isn't quite sure exists.

He wakes up in a sweat, arms shooting out and grabbing at nothing. He's panting, chest
heaving up and down, and there are fresh tear tracks on his face. He gasps for air, but can't
seem to catch his breath, like there's an invisible figure sat on his chest.

Sliding out of bed, he bumbles his way to the window, yanking aside the curtains and
removing the latch on the frame. He pushes the window up, drops his hands to the
windowsill, and sticks his head out, gasping for air outside.

The sun is only just rising, the sky a light blue with soft rays of light touching the buildings.
There are cars driving on the street below, pedestrians headed to work and school. He
watches it all from above, blinking away hot tears, and imagines himself among them as a
normal, functional person.
His breathing steadies a few minutes later, a strange sense of calm settling over his brain. He
knows what he has to do, the only way he can get rid of the latest source of the worries
plaguing his thoughts, and the momentary numbness allows him to withdraw into the
apartment and turn around, march toward the nightstand where his phone sits charging.

He unplugs it from the cable, walks back to the window, and takes a seat on the floor.

He opens his text messages, clicks on Taehyung's name.

The latest text arrived last night, at 2:12 a.m. It reads only: I miss you. The five previous
messages all say the same thing. Jeongguk bites his lip. Two days ago, after he met him in the
hallway, the text the neighbor sent was slightly longer: It was good seeing your face. Are you
eating properly? You looked tired. I'm sorry. Jeongguk feels something crawl up his throat,
licks his lips and exhales quietly. He scrolls further up. I've been thinking about what you told
me. I can't believe what a jerk I was. I understand if you never forgive me. I hope you do, but
I understand if you don't. Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut, biting hard on his lip. He takes a
moment, then opens his eyes and swallows thickly, scrolling up to the previous texts. There
are several short messages the neighbor sent him throughout the day. How are you doing?
Are you okay? I'm so sorry for hurting you. I want to take care of you. I like you so much.

Jeongguk sets the phone aside, feeling so overwhelmed he thinks he might cry again. The
texts aren't what he'd expected, no justifications or excuses on Taehyung's part. Just love, his
words like patches on a warm quilt, wrapping around his heart and making him feel more
cared for than he's perhaps ever been.

Grabbing the phone from the floor, Jeongguk stands up and walks to the door, picking up his
apartment keys from the table.

Maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to forget about this one thing.

He steps out of the apartment, uncertain and still torn. He needs to talk to Taehyung first,
before he decides. He needs to know if he meant those things.

He steps up to 9A and presses the doorbell, then raps on the door.

Nothing.

Taehyung isn't home. He already left for college.

“Fuck,” he groans, regretting not having read the messages earlier. If he had, he could've
caught Taehyung before he left.

He grabs the doorknob longingly, drops his forehead against the door, and waits for another
few minutes.

Still nothing.

Leaning away with a sigh, Jeongguk turns around to head back into his place. But then he
pauses, remembering what else he has to do. He should call his stepmother.
 Reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls out his phone and opens her message
with mild trepidation.

He clicks on the call button.

The phone rings once and then connects on the second tone. Jeongguk didn't expect it to get
picked up so soon, so he's a little taken aback. He doesn't know what to say. He isn't ready
yet. There's no prepared speech in his mind this time.

“I, uh—”

"Jeongguk,” Sooyoung breathes through the line, sounding equal parts surprised and
relieved. “You called.”

“Yeah, um. I, uh, I got your text.”

“Oh, Jeongguk,” the woman sighs, sounding like she just burst into tears. “Oh, honey, I have
bad news. Your father, he...”

Jeongguk's heart sinks, the hallway around him suddenly feeling like it's tilting on an axis.
“W-What? He what?”

“He passed away, sweetie. On Saturday,” Sooyoung says, sniffling. “I'm so sorry,
sweetheart.”

Jeongguk stares blankly at the door of his apartment, his ears ringing.

“The funeral service,” his stepmother continues. “It's today. Can you make it?”

Chapter End Notes

thank you so much to everyone who's given kudos and commented so far. i think the
previous chapter got the most comments i've ever received on a single update (not
counting final ones!), which makes me doki doki like you wouldn't believe. thank you so
much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me. ily.
curiouscat
moodboard
 One More Hour
Chapter Summary

All your voices said you wouldn't last a minute bare. One more hour and you'll know
your life is one to share.

Chapter Notes

warning: funerals, parent death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Jeongguk first moved for college, his dad took the day off to accompany him to Seoul.
He never took a day off, so that was unusual. Jeongguk hadn't thought much of it then, too
nervous and excited to be thankful for much of anything, but it's all he can think of in the cab
to the train station.

After getting off the phone with his stepmother, Jeongguk packed a bag in a daze, gathering
enough clothes to last him the whole three-day ceremony. It wasn't even that difficult to step
out of the apartment when the time came. He knew he needed to go, and so he did.

When the car pulls up at Seoul Station, he climbs out with a muttered thanks, lugging a
duffle. There are people everywhere, and although that makes Jeongguk jittery, he
appreciates how no one seems to care about his existence. He walks past people holding
hands and carrying suitcases to enter the building.

Inside the station, he tries to focus as he buys a ticket through a vending machine. His fingers
shake as he makes his selections: single passenger, express, one-way, next available
departure. When the ticket pops out, he rips it out and quickly moves away, letting the next
person in line take over.

Up a set of escalators, the platform is already filled with short lines of people waiting by both
tracks. He walks to a bench and sits, holding his bag on his lap.

The train whizzes into the station a few minutes later, the rush of wind blowing back his
hood. He stares at the train and watches it unload, passengers and crew members stepping out
and switching places. The speakers announce that the train has arrived and will soon depart,
but he stays rooted to the spot.
The funeral is three hours away, human interaction on every leg of the journey. He'll be
completely stuck once he's on that train. There'll be no going home, no apartment to run back
to. He'll have to deal with people, talk to people, act like there's nothing wrong with him at
all. Act like he's been in society all along, not locked away at home.

'You don't have to come if you can't make it,' his stepmother had said over the phone.

But no matter how much he's grown apart from his dad, there's no way Jeongguk can skip his
fucking funeral. He knows he'll regret it for the rest of his life if he does. His presence is
expected and spiritually required at the service—not going would be the ultimate dishonor, a
slap in the face of his dead dad.

He stands up, legs like jelly. Walking to the open train doors, he steps in just as the speakers
announce the last call for boarding. Once he's in his seat, he tunes everything out by popping
in his earphones, playing an anime tune and letting the soft Japanese voices relax him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard the KTX Express for Busan. Stops will be made in
Asan, Cheongju, Daejon, Gimcheon, Daegu, Gyeongju, Ulsan, and Busan. Please do not
smoke on this train…”

Closing his eyes, Jeongguk crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the window.

Later, he jolts awake with a touch on the shoulder. The train is now in full motion, his
earbuds dead. A crew member stands before him with a ticket clipper in hand.

“Excuse me, sir. Your ticket, please?”

Jeongguk hands it over with a flustered 'sorry,' staring at his lap until she hands it back and
moves onto the next row. Taking a deep breath, he slides backward and leans against the
window, reaching for his phone in his pocket. He's slightly disappointed to see he doesn't
have any new texts, only spammy game notifs. Taehyung should still be in class.

He sleeps for the rest of the ride, still tired despite his sleep-heavy past few days. Sleeping on
a chair should be uncomfortable, but he gets more rest there than he has at home. When the
train announces they'll soon be arriving in Busan, he pulls his duffle closer.

It's just after half-past noon when he steps out of the train, giving him plenty of time to get to
the family house before the service begins. He calls another , this time to his old address.

The ride through the city is unsettling. The sights are too familiar, streets with names he
recalls and fast food chains that used to be his favorites. When they drive by his former high
school, a baseball field visible on the other side of the fence, he feels such overwhelming
nostalgia he has to turn the other way.

The car pulls up to the house, the driver unlocking his doors. Jeongguk climbs out without a
word, looking up.

This house isn't the one he grew up in. His father sold that one to buy this one when his
stepmother gave birth to their first kid. This one is much bigger than the old one, even larger
than most on the block. Jeongguk lived here for a few years and hated it for replacing his old
home. Even now, he feels distaste as he looks at it.

Stepping up to the gate, he presses the intercom and waits as it buzzes. Voices sound on the
street behind him and he crowds closer.

“Yes?” a woman's voice comes a second later.

“Hey... It's me.”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah.”

The gate clicks open with a long buzz and he steps through. His dad's black sedan is there,
along with two other SUVs he doesn't recognize. There's barely enough room to walk around
them to get to the front door, which swings open right as he's climbing the porch steps.

The woman who married his father, Sooyoung, is 34. She was his dad's secretary before they
got married and has always looked the part. In all the years since he's known her, she's always
been perfectly composed, hair tied back, full face of makeup, fingernails painted. Today, she
has purple bags under her eyes, skin gaunt and sickly pale. Her hair roots are black from an
unretouched dye job, a wet stain on the front of her turtleneck. Her eyes well up with tears
when they land on him.

“Oh, honey. I'm so glad you're here.”

Sooyoung pulls him into a hug and lays her head on his shoulder, prompting him to freeze.
Jeongguk can't remember ever coming this close to his stepmother, didn't think they were on
hugging terms at all. They lived together for a few years, but he never bothered hiding that he
thought Sooyoung was too young for his dad and has always felt the hostility reciprocated in
the woman's blatant avoidance of him. He expected nothing different now, just the same
polite and distant faux-parenting. Whatever this is, it's totally new.

When Sooyoung pulls back, she wipes her face with a crumpled rag, revealing a transferred
mark now on Jeongguk's hoodie. It's baby puke.

“Oh gosh, look at what I've done,” the woman sniffles, using the rag to wipe furiously at the
patch until he steps back.

“It's okay.”

Shaking her head, she steps backward into the house and opens the door wider. “Come in.
Are you hungry?”

He shakes his head and steps in, a little cautious. There are countless pairs of shoes gathered
around the entry—heels, slippers, and tiny velcro sneakers. He quickly looks away from the
polished business ones and pretends he doesn't know who they belonged to. Once he's taken
off his shoes, he follows his stepmother inside.
“Sweetie, look who's here,” the woman croons as she steps into the kitchen.

Jeongguk spots a child at the dining table, a plate of rice and potatoes set in front of him.
That should be Jihoon, his four-year-old step-brother. Jihoon was born a few months before
Jeongguk left for college, so he's only met him as a newborn. He has a full bed of dark hair
now. Jeongguk smiles weakly at the kid, who stares at him with shocked eyes.

“Can we play with Thomas?” Jihoon asks suddenly.

“No, your brother's tired from his trip. He needs to eat. And then we're leaving, like Mommy
explained,” she tells him, carrying the boy's forgotten plate to the kitchen. She steps on the
trash and scrapes out the rest of the rice. “Jeongguk, what would you like to eat? We have
fried rice, noodles, some kimchi I made the other day, you name it.”

The thought of homemade cooking makes Jeongguk’s mouth water, even though he wasn't
hungry before. Real food. Home cooking. Does he even remember what that tastes like? He
swallows back the saliva that gathers in his mouth and sniffs casually, crossing his arms.

“I'll have whatever. Thank you.”

As his stepmother rummages through the fridge, there are suddenly footsteps rushing down
the stairs. A second later, a little girl rounds the doorway, freezing when she spots Jeongguk
standing there.

Sohee is the oldest of his half-siblings, the only one Jeongguk's ever actually lived with. Her
hair is much longer now, hanging well past her shoulders. Her face is also less babyish than
he remembered, eyes sweet but sharp.

“Hey,” he greets.

He waits for an answer, but the girl only stares. After a moment's silence, Sooyoung adds:

“Jeon Sohee, aren't you going to say hi to your brother?”

The girl's frown deepens, and she bolts back upstairs like she didn’t hear them. The cold
shoulder hurts a bit, but Jeongguk tries not to take it personally. He left for college when she
was two and never came back to visit. Why would she still care about him or even remember
him at all?

His stepmother sighs and brings over a plate of food from the kitchen, setting it on the dining
table and pulling out a chair. “I'm sorry about that. She's been having a rough couple of days,
I'm sure you understand,” she says with a grimace.

“It's all good,” he assures, not wanting to dwell on that—nothing to be done about it.

At the sound of crying, Sooyoung sighs and rubs her temples.

“Would you mind looking after Jihoon for a second? My mother's watching Jungwoo, but I
have a feeling she fell asleep.”
Jeongguk nods, not particularly wanting to be left alone with a little kid but figuring he
doesn't have much choice. Sooyoung goes, telling him there's more food on the counter if he
wants it.

Jeongguk sits and his half-brother runs over and takes the seat at his side. Pulling his plate
closer, he picks up the chopsticks and lifts a fold of kimchi into his mouth. The spicy,
vinegary punch makes him close his eyes, chewing slowly. The cabbage is crunchy and fresh,
nothing like the jarred garbage he has delivered. He tries the noodles next, feels pure joy
when the sesame oil coats his tongue. The food is fucking delicious, and he shovels it down
so quickly he gets the hiccups. His half-brother watches on with big, curious eyes.

After going through a second helping and emptying the tupperware left out for him,
Jeongguk leans back in the chair, satisfied. He glances at Jihoon when the boy grabs one of
his chopsticks, sucking off the spicy sauce. Jeongguk's pretty sure that kids don't like spicy
food and has the theory confirmed when the boy twists his nose. He laughs under his breath
and his step-brother looks up at him, grinning.

Sometime later, Jeongguk starts hearing an argument upstairs. It sounds like Sooyoung and
an older woman who he supposes is her mother. Jeongguk's never met her because she didn't
go to his dad's wedding.

“Is that your mom and grandma?” Jeongguk decides to ask, pointing up. Jihoon nods. “Do
you know what they're talking about?”

“Grandma thinks we should go see Daddy. Mommy doesn't think so.”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows. Young kids at a funeral?

He stands up and carries his plate to the kitchen, leaving Jihoon with his chopstick. He opens
the dishwasher and tries to find room for it inside, which is difficult because it's already
overflowing. Soon, Sooyoung is stomping down the stairs, rounding the corner with an infant
in her arms.

“Let's start getting ready,” she says, visibly annoyed. “My mother won't stay at home with
them, so we'll have to take them.”

Jeongguk doesn't think that's a great idea, but he figures there's no point in saying that when
the woman is clearly also against it. He nods and his stepmom looks relieved as she heads
back upstairs, asking him to please bring his brother up.

Jeongguk turns to the child, who lifts his arms. He stares for a second before realizing what
Jihoon wants him to do.

Oh no.

Leaning over, he grabs his brother by the armpits and picks him up. There's an awkward
moment when he tries to figure out the best placement for his arms, but the kid wiggles
toward his hip with deft little legs and wraps his arms tightly around his neck, figuring it out
himself. The hug cuts off some of Jeongguk's air supply, but at least keeps the kid secure
enough that he doesn't think he'll fall. A miniature human clinging to him, Jeongguk walks
out of the kitchen and makes his way upstairs.

On the second floor, the house looks like the world's messiest toy store. There are dolls, train
tracks, and building blocks strewn across the floor, spilling out of the playpen and chest in an
open area that looks like it was once a normal living room. Weirdly, the chaos reminds
Jeongguk of his own apartment in Seoul, only more family-friendly.

“I wish you'd given me some warning, Mom,” his stepmother is saying, looking at someone
inside one for the rooms. “I could've gotten them a nanny.”

“Funerals help with closure.”

“They're still so young, they might not even remember.”

“Oh, they will. They'll remember for the rest of their lives.”

“I don't want to scare them…”

“Then only take them today. I'll watch them tomorrow while you're at the body prep.”

Jeongguk stands there awkwardly, unsure of where to go. He wants to ask Sooyoung where
he should put Jihoon, but he also doesn't want to get involved in that conversation. The talk is
disturbing his step-brother though, the boy burying his face on his shoulder and mumbling
incoherently. Jeongguk pats the kid's back and decides to walk to the next room, that door
slightly ajar.

There are two beds in this room, one with pink bedding and the other with blue. Sohee is sat
cross-legged on the bed with pink bedding, one Barbie doll in each hand. She quickly drops
the dolls when she sees him, grabbing the teddy bear against her pillow and hugging it.

“Sorry. Can I come in?” he asks, glancing over at the blue bed. “Is that Jihoon's bed?”

Sohee stays silent, staring at him with the same cautious eyes as before. He's about to leave
and find somewhere else when she mumbles, “yeah.”

“I can come in?”

“Yes.”

Pausing, he steps in and pulls the door shut behind him, muffling the sound of the argument
outside. He walks to the free bed and leans over, waiting for Jihoon to release him and drop
on the mattress. The kid only clings onto him tighter, squeezing his neck. Perplexed,
Jeongguk straightens and looks down at the boy, who still has his face buried in his hoodie.

Jeongguk sits on the edge of the mattress and holds the kid on his lap, letting him cling to his
neck. Jihoon keeps an arm around him and sticks the opposite thumb in his mouth, sucking
the finger.
When Jeongguk looks up, he sees his little sister staring at them. Sohee's surly welcome is
unexpected—back when they lived together, she often ran to him with a comb to have him
brush her hair and always leaned on him when they watched cartoons. Out of everyone in
their conjoined family, Jeongguk's always liked her the most.

“Do you remember me?” he finally asks.

The girl squeezes her teddy bear and doesn't answer, staring at him silently from under her
dark bangs. Probably not, then. Which is fair, because he doesn't think he remembers
anything from when he was two. It's probably for the best, too.

When the voices outside go quiet, he hears footsteps descending the stairs. A second later, the
door to the kids' bedroom swings open, his stepmother standing there with her hair sticking
out of her ponytail.

“Jeongguk, come with me,” she says, still cradling her third child. She turns away and leaves
him to follow.

Jeongguk glances down at Jihoon, who looks much calmer now. Twisting around, he
transfers the kid to the bed, letting him roll over and settle in. With one last look at his sister,
he stands and walks out, following his stepmother down the hallway.

Sooyoung is in the master bedroom, standing by a king-sized bed with long posts. The bed
hasn't been made, but the sheets are only messy on one side. The other side remains perfectly
smooth, all of the corners tucked in. She looks away from the bed when Jeongguk walks in,
meets his eyes briefly before continuing to the double doors of a walk-in closet. She walks in
and returns carrying a garment bag from the dry cleaners.

“Please wear this,” she says, tossing the zipped bag on the bed.

“What is it?”

“It's your dad's. He was going to wear it at your graduation next month.”

Hearing that makes Jeongguk's stomach lurch. His graduation. Next month. God, they were
still expecting that to happen, must've seen something about it online. Jeongguk may not have
wanted his dad to know he was expelled, but realizing he died expecting to see him graduate
is somehow even worse. What would've happened on graduation day when his father made
the trip over only to discover Jeongguk wasn't on the grad list? He would've been horrified.

Jeongguk hangs his head, fighting the lump in his throat. Being back in Busan is like time-
traveling into the past, but reality is back in Seoul, where he's spent years stuck at home. He
isn't a student, he's a coward. The weight of his secret is suddenly unbearable.

“—Sooyoung, I...” he trails off when he lifts his head and sees his stepmother. The lady is
already dealing with so much shit, even more than he is. Telling her now would be like
kicking someone while they're down.

“Yes?”
“Never mind. I'll tell you later.”

Sooyoung nods. “Anyway, please try that on. You're about the same size as your dad by the
look of it. Let me know how it works. I'll go give your brother his bottle.”

She walks out, leaving him alone in the room.

He glances at the garment bag on the bed, his stomach still in knots.

It's been a while since Jeongguk's worn fancy clothes, something other than hoodies and
shirts he's physically outgrown. The black suit makes him look different. More respectable.
More responsible. It's a simple black two piece, sleek and probably tailored. The white shirt
and black pants fit just right, but the jacket is slightly big, the padded shoulders and long
sleeves making him look slimmer and smaller than he actually is.

Standing there in his dad's suit, Jeongguk's suddenly just a boy in adult clothes, a younger
version of himself. Like he's back to being a child, a bright future ahead of him.

And if no one looked at his face, where his hair has overrun his head, they might even believe
that he's a normie.

Jeongguk gathers his hair in a fist behind his head, staring at his reflection for a minute. He
turns his face every other way, and after some deliberation, walks to the adjoining bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerges from the master bedroom in the black suit.

He follows the sound of humming to the bedroom at the end of the hall. It used to be a guest
room, but now it's a nursery with white walls, a crib, and a fluffy carpet. His stepmother is
sitting on a rocking chair, feeding baby Jungwoo from a bottle. She looks up when he enters,
her eyes widening when they land on his face.

“Your hair...”

“I found scissors and clippers in your bathroom.”

“Oh.” Looking stunned, his stepmother stares at him, her eyes getting progressively shinier.
“You look just like him now.”

Jeongguk runs a hand over his hair. He chopped off all of it, snipping in random directions
until it stopped falling in his eyes, then shaving the sides until they didn't tickle his neck. He
probably does look a lot more like his dad now—the cut is choppier than his ever was, but
the clothes are spot on. Jeon Siwon wore suits religiously. All he'd need to recreate his look
would be…

“A tie,” Sooyoung breathes, lowering the empty bottle and standing up. She bounces the
baby a few times, making him burp, then walks to the crib to set him down.

Jeongguk stands in the room after she leaves, the baby still gurgling. Eventually, he gets
curious and walks over, peering into the crib to get a good look at his youngest sibling. The
baby has on white footie pajamas, his eyes wide open. He holds up a little arm and giggles,
popping a spit bubble. He's gross, but also kind of cute.

“Hey there, little bro,” Jeongguk murmurs. He reaches into the crib and laughs under his
breath when a tiny baby hand encircles his finger. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Sooyoung enlists his help to get the children into the car when they prepare to leave.

Jeongguk feels torn as he shepherds Jihoon and Sohee to the SUV parked out front, the two
dressed for the occasion in formal black clothes. He thinks funeral clothes don't look right on
children, even if it is their father's. As he straps Jihoon into one of the booster seats, he sees
his little sister snapping her own chair belts in place and speaks up:

“Are you okay with this? You don't have to go if you don't want to. I'll talk to your mom.”

Sohee shakes her head and her younger brother copies her. “We're going. We need to be there
for Daddy,” she says.

“Yeah, for Daddy,” her brother agrees.

Jeongguk swallows thickly, can't help but compare that reaction to his own. These little kids
are a quarter his age and way braver than he's ever been. What he'd give to have their balls.
That shit must come from Sooyoung's genes.

The ride to the funeral home is silent. The kids stay calm at the back, although his stepmom
looks a little out of it as she drives. Jeongguk wishes he could do it, but he never bothered
getting his license in Seoul. He sits there and feels completely and utterly useless.
When they approach the funeral home, Jeongguk feels a sinking spark of recognition. He
attended his grandmother's funeral at the same building when he was about eight. His
grandmother was a traditional lady he remembers best for frowning, wearing elaborate hats to
church, and having really dark hair. As her firstborn son, Jeongguk's father had stood by her
shrine for the entire service. Jeongguk recalls standing in that room with his dad and male
family members, wondering why they couldn't join the others eating and drinking outside.

Jeongguk feels his palms get clammy, tries to control his breathing even as every inch of him
itches with the urge to take off running. Leaving now would keep him numb to today's
significance and spare him a whole lot of grief, but his hand only hovers over the door
handle.

They park in the hospital's parking lot.

“Where are we?” Jihoon asks drowsily.

Jeongguk looks over at Sooyoung, who smiles gently behind the wheel. “We're meeting all
our friends and family to talk about how much we love Daddy, remember? All your cousins
will be here.”

“Even Somi?” Jihoon mumbles.

“Yes, even Somi.”

Holding hands, they walk up to the building, a large hospital with a smaller side entrance
reserved for funerals. This is where his father is, where they'll be coming for the next three
days until the body is put underground.

When they approach the entrance, there's already a line of people in black suits, guests
waiting to be directed to other funerals. They're all strangers, but today being in a crowd is
more comforting than anything else. They're all grieving someone—he isn't the only one.

There's a counter at the head of the line, an older man in a suit taking people's names and
telling them where to go. Once it's their turn, Sooyoung gives the man their name. The
funeral director bows deeply at them, pulling out two armbands and white ribbons from
under the counter. He holds them flat in his palms and presents them like an offering to
Sooyoung, letting her take the tokens for herself and her children. Then, he turns to Jeongguk
and offers him the firstborn son's striped band. The man bows deeply when Jeongguk takes it.

“My deepest condolences, Mr. Jeon.”

A lady dressed in a white hanbok bows at them when they step past the desk, standing at the
mouth of a long hallway. She leads them past several rooms with gray sliding doors, giant
floral arrangements lining both walls. Most doors are pulled shut, but there are muffled
voices coming from behind them, even some crying. When they approach door number 15,
Jeongguk notices that the sashes on the standing wreaths all read his dad's name. Some of
them have his company's name, others titles he must've held in college. Above those doors is
a small digital display.
Deceased Jeon Siwon, it reads.

The funeral hall is empty, but the low tables are already covered in white tablecloths and
topped with soju bottles. As Jeongguk takes off his shoes, Sooyoung crouches before her
daughter to string the tiny white bow through her hair. Jeongguk finds himself staring blankly
for a moment before realizing he's still holding that striped band too. He knows exactly what
to do with it because he remembers his dad wearing one at his grandmother's funeral. A
heavy weight in his chest, he pulls the loop of fabric up his arm and clips it to his sleeve.

Off to the side of the main hall is the memorial room. His father's portrait is held at the center
of an altar, white chrysanthemums carefully arranged around it. The shrine is purely
symbolic, but the picture jars him almost like there's a body there. In the headshot, which
must've been taken at work, his dad's looking right at the camera and smiling slightly. His dad
rarely smiled, and when he did, it was never directed at him.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jeongguk moves forward and steps onto the straw
mat in front of the altar. There are fruits, candles, and incense beneath the flowers, offerings
to the ancestor spirits. Jeongguk stares at his father's picture and for the first time, fights back
a wave of emotion. Even if he's still mostly numb, standing before the shrine makes it a little
more real that his father's gone and he'll never see him again.

Slowly, he kneels before the portrait and folds down to sit on his legs. He bows at the waist
until his forehead touches the floor, closes his eyes and squeezes them shut as he holds the
pose for a long beat. He repeats the formal bow a second time, then carefully pushes himself
up and bows at the waist.

A hand lands on his shoulder. He turns and sees his youngest uncle standing behind him, a
somber look on his face. Jeongguk didn't even hear him enter.

“Your father was a good man,” his uncle says, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Be strong for
your mother and siblings. No crying.”

Jeongguk nods, thinking he probably couldn't cry even if he tried.

His uncle moves away, stepping onto the mat and performing the traditional double bow
Jeongguk just did. When he steps off the mat, he turns to Jeongguk and repeats the courtesy
to him, then straightens and reaches into his suit pocket. He offers Jeongguk a lighter.

Taking a deep breath, Jeongguk accepts the lighter and moves toward the altar, using it to fire
up the candles around the picture frame, then an incense from the cup. He places the incense
in the sand bowl, watching as a light tendril of smoke rises toward his dad's picture.
Family and friends soon start arriving. Sooyoung decided not to have Jihoon in the memorial
room with the other male relatives to protect him, so Jeongguk stands with only his cousins
and uncles as his father's coworkers and family members come in to pay their respects to the
shrine. Guests enter and bow at the picture, then repeat the bow to the family. Jeongguk nods
and mumbles thanks in response to their quiet words of sympathy, answering each bow with
one of his own. Some people he's met once or twice, others he doesn't recognize. They look
tearful or barely fazed or start sobbing when they see his dad's picture. Jeongguk has never
been confronted with so many emotional strangers before, and it's very odd to see people
grapple with difficult emotions right before his eyes.

Jeongguk's legs start to tire from standing as the hours pass. His uncles and cousins
eventually leave to eat and drink, but he's supposed to stay there and be with his father for the
rest of the event. Thankfully, one of his aunts comes in with a chair a while later. Jeongguk
recognizes her as his dad's older sister. When he thanks her and sits down, she grabs his chin
with cold fingers, tilting his head this way and that. Her eyes look comically large behind her
glasses as she scrutinizes him, and Jeongguk does his best to smile.

“You've grown,” she assesses, probably remembering him from Chuseok when he was
young. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-two,” he mumbles, bracing himself for what comes next.

To his surprise, the lady only pets his cheek and nods, reaching out to adjust his skewed tie.
“What a handsome young man. You look just like your father. I'm sorry for your loss.”

Jeongguk's lips part, words failing him for a second. Before he can come up with a response,
his aunt leaves to get him a plate of food.

It feels like hours later when people start to leave. Jeongguk watches them pass the doorway,
gathering their shoes and stumbling out, dizzy from drinking. Some of them stop by the
memorial room first, bowing at his father's shrine and him again. He stands aside and returns
their bows.

When the funeral hall is quiet, only the occasional sound of plates clattering as they're picked
up, his stepmother enters the mourning room with a baby in her arms and Jihoon clinging
onto her hand.

“Time to go home, sweetheart,” she says with a tired smile. “We have another long day ahead
of us tomorrow.”

Jeongguk nods, standing up from the chair. His knees nearly give out, feet tingling with pins
and needles after sitting for too long. He can't wait to get outside.

They step out of the memorial room. Out in the main hall, his oldest aunt is gathering dishes
from the tables, dropping them into a large plastic bin. Her husband and adult children wait
for her at a table in the back, chatting quietly.

“Could you please bring your sister to the car?”

Jeongguk looks around and spots Sohee sat by herself a few tables away from the others, her
back to the door. He nods and his stepmom leaves with the other two kids.

When Jeongguk approaches his half-sister, he immediately notices she's crying. Her head is
bowed low, tears dripping on her dress. She's quiet though, probably so no one will see.
Jeongguk hesitates behind her, then moves around the table to sit on the bench across from
her. He stares at the top of her head, the white bow loose and sliding down her straight hair.

If he were less socially inept, Jeongguk might've known exactly what to say to comfort his
little sister. Something important was robbed from her, a childhood with a dad to support her
through all sorts of things. He used to think that childhood was stolen from him too, but now
he realizes just how wrong he was. His dad may not have been the warmest parent in the
world, but he was there and always made sure that Jeongguk had what he needed to survive
and live well. Was always generous and never asked for anything in return.

Jeongguk doesn't know what to say, so he presses his lips together and lowers his head,
sitting there in silence as his sister cries. The lump lodged in this throat never goes away, but
his face stays dry.

When Sohee stops crying, he looks up, meets her red-rimmed eyes, and holds out a hand.

They walk out to the car together, his little sister clinging onto him.

Day two of the funeral happens in the morning.

Jeongguk wakes up in his old bedroom to the smell of breakfast, gets dressed and heads
down to the kitchen to find his stepmother making beef stew at the stove with a table set for
two behind her. When she tells him to take a seat, he does.

Silence hangs heavy between them as they eat, Sooyoung looking pale and grim. She appears
much sadder that day than the one before, perhaps because she has no children to fuss over.
Jeongguk's never been alone with her and honestly has no idea how to talk to her. His
stepmom has always been a villain, the likely gold digger who broke up his family and ruined
his life, but she seems so devastated about his father that Jeongguk can't really think of her
that way anymore.

In the end, she really did love his dad.

The two leave and arrive at the funeral home in the late morning. Jeongguk's oldest aunt and
her husband and son are already there, all dressed in black.

They stay quiet as they're led to another level of the hospital where the body is being kept.
They end up in a small, intimate room, two rows of seating and a table set up front. There's a
body on that table, dressed in a white hanbok with a white embroidered handkerchief laid
over the face. Jeongguk stares at it and doesn't fully comprehend the scene until the funeral
director peels back the cloth and exposes the body's face.

That's his dad there, or at least some version of him. His skin is gray, and there's something
so hollow and lifeless about it that it's immediately apparent that he's gone. Jeongguk gets
choked up. His stepmother bursts into tears.

They sit and watch as the funeral director grooms his dad, shaving his stubble, clipping his
nails, and brushing makeup on his face. Little by little, the body starts resembling a live
person, the father Jeongguk once knew.

By the end of the service, his dad looks healthier than ever, more like the person Jeongguk
remembered from childhood. The person who brought home Nintendo DS games to surprise
him and took him to the zoo on his birthday when he said he wanted to be a sloth when he
grew up.

His dad was always working behind the scenes, never caught a break, and it's only in death
that he finally gets to rest.

When the funeral director asks them to come forward and pay their respects, his aunt and her
family go first, standing by the casket for a few minutes before moving away. Sooyoung goes
next, hiccups tearing through her as she stands over the body and speaks quietly. And then it's
Jeongguk's turn.

Jeongguk wants to run away, but his legs somehow take him forward instead of backward. He
stops in front of the casket and looks down at his father's peaceful sleeping face, his stomach
stuck somewhere around his lungs.

When Jeongguk first moved for college, his dad had dropped him off at the front gates of
SNU. He clearly wanted to get back home quickly, was already responding to emails on his
phone and taking work calls. Jeongguk had also been eager to go off on his own and explore,
so he didn't mind. But he did always remember what his dad said before leaving:

“Good luck, son. Don't disappoint me.”

Jeongguk sobs into his hands.

The burial happens on the third day at sunset.

Jeongguk's family and their friends meet at the funeral home, each pallbearer given a white
chrysanthemum to pin to their jacket. Jeongguk pins the flower through the breast pocket of
his suit and is handed his dad's portrait to lead the procession.

Once they load the casket into the hearse, everyone stands in the parking lot for a moment
before heading to their own cars. Jeongguk follows his tearful stepmother to hers.

On the drive to the cemetery, Sooyoung acts like she wants to say something, her mouth
opening and closing as she wipes at her face. Jeongguk finally takes pity on her after a few
failed attempts.

“What is it?” he asks.

She sits a little taller. “I want to give you something. It's inside the glovebox.”

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, reaching for the compartment. There's an envelope inside, just
about the size of a greeting card. He picks it up, finding his name scrawled in tiny print on
the front. He recognizes the handwriting immediately, feels a sharp pang in his chest.

“He wrote me a card? Why?”

“He was going to give it to you at your graduation.”

Jeongguk's stomach sinks.

“But he didn't do cards. Why would he suddenly do cards?”

Sooyoung shakes her head like she doesn't know, turning to face the road. “I think there were
some things he regretted. Things he wanted to change.”

“Like what?”

She keeps staring ahead. “I haven't read the card so I wouldn't know, but I have a pretty good
idea.” She presses her lips together. “Your dad talked about you all the time. You were always
on his mind.”

“No way,” Jeongguk's voice wobbles. “That's not true.”

“It is,” the woman insists. “He did talk about you all the time. And if you ever felt like that
wasn't the case, then I owe you an apology, honey.”

Jeongguk turns to look at her, incredulous. Her eyebrows are furrowed in a grimace, her face
looking much older and more maternal that way. It feels like she's there as his mom right
now, a thought that makes him want to cry. But he knows he has to nip that idea at the bud
because Sooyoung isn't his mom. His mom is probably in some foreign country now, fuming
about her lost alimony.

Sooyoung continues:

“When your dad proposed to me, he said he'd only marry me if I promised to treat you like
my son,” she says. “I swore I would, but I didn't know how to handle you at the time. I was
too afraid. You were my first child, and already a teenager.”

Jeongguk furrows his brows, looking down at the envelope. Part of him questions why his
stepmom is saying this now, why she's trying to rekindle a nonexistent relationship with him,
but a bigger part of him wants to just let her. He's so tired of questioning it all, of doing
everything himself. It's so exhausting to always be alone.

“It's my fault for being such a dick to you,” he whispers. “I was horrible growing up.”

“Don't you dare, honey. What a ridiculous thing for you to say,” Sooyoung's voice is thick
with emotion, her head turning Jeongguk's way. “You've never been cruel, even when I
expected you to be. You're a kind and caring boy, and I've always known that. I can see it in
the way you treat your siblings.”

Jeongguk's throat goes tight. He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “You don't know what
you're talking about. You have no idea who I am.”

“I've known you since you were a teen, kiddo. I think I have an idea.”

“No,” he insists darkly. “You don't. Do you know what I do in Seoul? It isn't studying.”

Sooyoung pauses, quiet for a good stretch of the road. Jeongguk starts feeling sick, folds an
arm over the window and tucks his face in the crook of it.

“Are you involved in anything illegal?” she finally asks. He shakes his head. “Did you hurt
someone else?” He shakes it again. “Then there's nothing you could tell me that would make
me look at you differently.”

“You haven't heard it,” he mumbles. “You'll be disgusted when you hear it.”

Sooyoung's hand lands on his forearm, his fingers still clutching the envelope in his lap.

“What you do isn't who you are,” she interjects. “Even if you were doing something that I
didn't approve of as a parent, you'd still be the same person.” She squeezes his arm. “The
same smart, tech-savvy kid who can fix any Wi-Fi issue known to man. You'd still be
Jeongguk, my son.”

Jeongguk can't help it—he starts crying.

He's been Jeongguk the shut-in for the past several months, lived defined by that term. His
whole life's revolved around an apartment, the same day repeated on a loop with insignificant
changes. He's eaten every meal in that place, woken up there every morning. Gaming and
eating and watching TV are who he is.

Here, none of that exists. Sooyoung doesn't know about his glitch and sees him as a normal
person. He isn't a NEET. He's just a twenty-two year old.

“There are tissues in the glovebox,” she says when he wipes his face with his sleeves. “Hand
me one, too.”

Wiping his leaking nose with a hand, Jeongguk opens the compartment and reaches for a
tissue travel pack, pulling out a sheet and handing it to his mom before taking one himself.
He uses it to dry his face, then blows his nose. Outside, the cars ahead of them are entering
the cemetery. They slow down.

“I still need to tell you something,” he admits, swallowing. “Something serious.”

“Tell me after the service. We'll have a nice long chat at home, how about it?”

Jeongguk hesitates, then nods in agreement, glancing at the white envelope still in his hand.

To: Jeon Jeongguk.

The sun is hanging over the horizon when they gather around the burial plot.

There's an older man in traditional garb conducting the service, speaking generic words of
faith, hope, and healing. Friends and family give their own speeches, working in the happy
memories they have of Jeon Siwon from university and work. When the cloud of sadness
becomes oppressive, Jeongguk wanders away from the party and finds a large tree to lean on.

If he weren't there for a funeral, Jeongguk might've said that the cemetery is quite beautiful.
Plains of green grass and low-hanging trees, the spring breeze rolling over him. He closes his
eyes and takes a few deep breaths, then opens his jacket and retrieves the envelope addressed
to him, tearing it open.

It's a graduation-themed Hallmark card. Inside it, the text covers both flaps, scrawled in the
same tiny print as the envelope. He wets his lips and reads it:

Son,

I find it difficult to express how I feel, so I'll do it in writing. When I was your age, most
things in life scared me. I took few risks, headed down the path of least resistance. I can see
you aren't the same way, investing time and effort to turn your hobbies and unique skills into
a career. Good.

I know I've been distant these past few years. They have been tough on me both
professionally and personally, and I often struggle to find the energy for anything besides
work. But I've come to realize that my family needs me to be as strong as you are. That's why
I'm retiring in the next three years. I want to spend more time with my family. More time with
my children. More time with you. I want to hear about your studies, use the programs you
develop. I would like to be part of your life.

Thank you for being who you are. You've made me proud.

Dad.

Jeongguk rereads the card several times, tears rolling down his face. He wipes his dripping
chin, heart squeezed so tightly he wonders if he's also having a heart attack.

Leaning back against the tree, he breathes through his mouth to try and catch his breath,
staring up at the rustling leaves, the sky, and the birds flying across it. When he wobbles, he
sits on the grass to keep from falling.

And then, a few minutes later, he can finally breathe a little easier.

As he walks back to the funeral party, he hears the conductor ask, “would anyone else like to
say a few words?”

“I would,” he volunteers. All heads turn to face him. He wipes at his hot, wet face with his
sleeve and approaches. “I have something to say.”

The conductor nods, letting him take the floor.

Jeongguk steps to the head of the circle, the card still held in a hand. Everyone's staring at
him.

He takes a deep breath and speaks:

“I've always been fucking terrified of my dad. He was untouchable. Nothing I did ever
seemed to matter to him. But I guess I just didn't know him very well.” He pauses when his
voice breaks, swallowing thickly and tugging at his tie to loosen it. “He wrote me this card
recently. Should I read it to you?”

Jeongguk wipes his face and reads the card aloud, choking up at the bits about how his father
apparently viewed him. Somewhere in the circle, someone bursts into tears when he reveals
his dad's plans to retire; he spots Sooyoung with her hands over her face when he lowers the
card.

“My dad was just a person,” he continues. “He was just like me. Scared and anxious and just
trying his best. That's all we can do, right? Keep pushing and trying our best.” Jeongguk
shakes his head, wiping a hand under his leaking nose. “He and I wasted so much time. We
closed off, didn't talk. And now our time's up and we'll never get it back.” He swallows back
 and squeezes his eyes shut. “Thing is, my dad didn't know me very well either. I'm not brave
or strong. Not at all. But he believed in me and he loved me, so I'll have to try harder to be
that.”

Jeongguk bows to his stepmother, then the casket, then spins on his heels and walks away.

This is where he draws the line, can't bear to stay any longer.

That night, he shuts himself in his old bedroom, curling up in bed in his funeral suit. He
rereads his dad's card several times, crying when he thinks of how he could've restored their
relationship if only he'd asked for help when he got booted from university. His dad would've
known exactly what to do.

The walls in the home must be thin because the bedroom door eventually opens, his little
brother and sister on the other side in their pajamas.

Jeongguk rolls the other way so they can't see that he's crying, but they come and climb on
the bed, one little person behind him and another sliding in front of him.

“I'm sorry I didn't ever come visit,” he hiccups. Sohee pets his hair and Jihoon rubs his face
on his shirt, crying too. “I have a problem, but I'm scared to tell mom.”

“We'll help,” Sohee says. Her brother nods vehemently. “We missed you, oppa.”

Jeongguk's lip wobbles. “I'm sorry. I want to get better.”

“We'll help,” she repeats.

Chapter End Notes

you read that chapter count correctly...

curiouscat
moodboard
 On Track
Chapter Summary

So tell everyone I'll be alright. 'Cause strictly speaking, I've got my whole life.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

And so Jeongguk admits he has a problem. Does it at the kitchen table, sat with his stepmom
and siblings like a proper family. It isn't easy to admit how weak he's been, but it is a relief.
At first, Sooyoung doesn't seem to get it, but when he explains how he physically feels
whenever he tries to step outside, something seems to finally click.

“That sounds like OCD. Or hypochondria.”

He highly doubts he has either of those things, but nods anyway. It's a start, and perhaps more
than his father would've acknowledged.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that. I'm not sure.”

She sits quietly for a while, a mug held between her hands. He can't tell if she's mad or
disappointed, but it feels so good to finally speak up that he doesn't even care. There's
something wrong with him, and it's screwing with his life.

Beside him, his sister squeezes his hand. He glances down at her and finds her smiling—a
small, reassuring thing that makes him feel a whole lot better.

“I know what we'll do,” his stepmom finally says. “Move back home, finish your degree
here. We'll find you a doctor.”

“...Move back home?” he asks cautiously, looking up at her. “Here?”

“Yeah. We'd love to have you back. Wouldn't we, kids?”

“Yes,” his siblings call in chorus, Sohee squeezing his hand and Jihoon clambering onto his
lap and settling back against his chest, squirming in excitement.

Jeongguk blinks and stares at his stepmom, watching her eye him with a small smile.

It's unclear whether she realizes what she's offering, but he does. It's a lifeline, a chance to
stop feeling like a leech and finally be the good kid his dad thought he was. And he wouldn't
have to be alone anymore, wouldn't have to pretend that that's how he likes it. Could eat real
food and talk to people and watch cartoons with his siblings. Could have a mom and a
normal, loving family. Could have everything he's ever wanted.

He desperately wants to say yes, feels his chest constrict at the mere thought of saying yes,
but there's one minor detail holding him back. One thing he'd lose in the process of gaining
literally everything else.

“I...I have to think about it.”

On the train back to Seoul, he finally gets to check his phone for the first time in three days.
It's been tucked away in his bag, forgotten. The battery's now at 2% and there are dozens of
texts from the neighbor. The latest reads:

I'm gonna do it.

Received 8:24 PM

'Do what?' he starts typing, but the screen chooses that second to go black, 2% be damned.
He digs through his bag for a charger, but apparently forgot to pack one. Cursing under his
breath, he drops his phone into the bag and looks around at the other passengers, eyeing the
ones with their chargers out. He imagines himself leaning over and asking his aisle neighbor
to borrow hers for a second, but can't quite bring himself to do it. Baby steps.

When the train arrives in Seoul, Jeongguk walks out of the station and tries to hail a cab the
old school way. He stands awkwardly at the curb looking interested and raising a timid hand
when cars pass by, hoping for the best. A couple drive past him, but one eventually pulls over
and unlocks the doors.

The driver talks to him on the way home, something that would typically make him damn
near piss himself, but tonight doesn't feel like that big of a deal. After what he just did,
delivering a whole eulogy without having a nervous breakdown, a few well-placed mhms and
oh reallys are a walk in the park.

The cab arrives at the building just after 10 p.m. At this hour, Taehyung should either be
home or out selling jewelry. Either way, he wants to see him as soon as possible to clear the
air and tell him exactly what happened. He exits the car with a bow to the driver, closing the
door and walking up to the building.

As he unlocks the front door, it opens from the inside, a girl about his age about to leave. It's
the neighbor he met by the mailboxes on New Year's Eve, the one who wished him a happy
New Year. He recognizes her, but can't be sure she recognizes him when their eyes meet.

“Oh, sorry,” she blushes.

“Um, no problem.”

“Goodnight.”

“G-Goodnight.”

They clumsily switch places, their shoulders brushing. As soon as the door shuts behind her,
Jeongguk presses a hand over his mouth and mentally replays the exchange with a pounding
heart.

Fucking smooth. He did that.

Taking the main elevator to the ninth floor, he feels like a Damage hero on high ground—
tough and capable and ready for anything.

When the metal doors open, he strides out with his eyes glued to unit 9A. He imagines the
door swinging open, revealing a blue-haired neighbor who gasps at the sight of him.
Imagines himself running into Taehyung's arms, hugging his skinny frame and thanking him
for existing. He stomps loudly to give the door a chance to open, but it doesn't.

When he stops before 9D, Jeongguk freezes with a hand around the keys in his pocket. The
door is ajar, a sliver of darkness all around the jamb from the unlit interior. He's absolutely
sure that he locked it before leaving.

His first panicked thought is that there's been a break-in, but he figures that any would-be
burglar would've left pretty quickly after seeing the dumpster fire they were working with.
Then he remembers something else:

I'm gonna do it.

“No fucking way,” he whispers, setting down his bag and nudging the door open.

The apartment is dark and smells like garbage and week-old pizza, making him cringe. If the
neighbor really did break in, he probably feared the worst upon entering. So much for
keeping up appearances.

“Hello?” Jeongguk calls, slowly walking in.

This, someone hiding in his apartment, was always his biggest fear. The stuff of his
nightmares, what jerked him awake at 3 in the morning when he heard even the softest sound.
Living alone makes you paranoid, or perhaps the feeling's just another product of his mental
issues. He isn't scared now, but old habits die hard. Pausing by the open coat closet in the
hallway, he reaches for his baseball bat and wraps fingers around it. Better safe than sorry.

Weapon ready, he moves over to the bedroom doorway and stops.

As he suspected, there is somebody in his room. The intruder is laying on his bed, curled over
the sheets with his face buried in Jeongguk's pillow. Even though he can't really see him in
the dark, the bright blue hair is as dead a giveaway as any.

“...Taehyung?”

Jeongguk lowers the bat, lets it slide from his fingers and drop to the floor.

The loud clatter makes the neighbor stir, his head lifting from the pillow as he stretches out.
With the light coming through the window, he can see that Taehyung's face is a little swollen,
his eyes hooded and rimmed red. He expects him to have some sort of reaction when he spots
him, but Taehyung only frowns into the dark and stares at him in silence.

Puzzled, Jeongguk walks over. It's immediately evident that the neighbor might be a little
drunk. His face is flushed a dark color and his eyes are unfocused, much like they were when
they first met. The memory tugs a small smile from his lips.

“Did you forget where you live again?” he jokes. “This is my place. Yours is across the hall.”

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows, wrapping an arm around the pillow and hugging it closer.
“So you speak now?”

“...What?”

Taehyung mumbles something incoherent, rolling onto his back and pulling the pillow over
his face. He keeps talking into it, but Jeongguk can't make out the words through the damper
of the fabric. He moves even closer.

“You're not real,” Taehyung is saying. “You're not really here. Where'd you go?”

Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, surprised and a little confused. “I am here.”

“You're not,” Taehyung hisses, ripping the pillow off his face and sitting up. He sways from
the sudden movement, narrows his eyes at Jeongguk even as his tongue catches on his next
syllables, “you're not here 'cause I checked. Looked inside every closet, even the—hic—the
kitchen cabinets. Nowhere.”

Jeongguk presses his lips together, trying to contain a smile. He might've laughed at how cute
that is if it weren't for the fact that the neighbor seems genuinely distressed, clutching his
beat-up pillow so hard there are feathers poking through the fabric. He must've been lying
there for a while if he fell asleep. Perhaps since sending him that last text three hours ago.
The thought makes Jeongguk's heart ache in a dozen different ways.

“You're in my apartment,” he says gently, crouching by the bed. “Did you pick my lock?”
“Yup,” Taehyung sighs, lying flat and rolling his head to hold eye contact. His hair fans out
over the dirty bed sheets, bright blue against dull white. “Are you really here or am I still
dreaming?”

That makes Jeongguk crack a smile. If anything, he's the one who might be dreaming.
Coming home to a beautiful thing in his bed. Not too shabby. “Were you dreaming of me?”
he asks, a little teasing. “Were they good dreams?”

Instead of answering, Taehyung suddenly lurches up and grabs him by the shirt collar,
dragging him closer. Chest pressing against the side of the bed, Jeongguk blinks in surprise
and watches him as he stares at him from under wisps of blue hair, gaze an absurd mixture of
intense and suspicious. Slowly, Taehyung slides a hand over his new chop, fingers pushing
through the shorter strands. Jeongguk's eyes flutter, but stay open. Taehyung's bottom lip
quivers when his fingers pass over the shaved sides of his undercut.

“Who are you? Where'd you put him?” he asks, voice softer.

“What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sits up with a frustrated noise, shaking him by the collar. Before Jeongguk can
react, he flings arms around his neck and drops over his shoulder. Jeongguk rocks back from
the sudden weight, nearly toppling over, but manages to balance himself with a hand on the
edge of the mattress and the other around the neighbor.

“—I miss him, please,” Taehyung starts babbling, crushing his neck like he's afraid he might
leave. “I want him back, please. I hate this. Please give him back. I need to tell him that I'm
sorry.”

“...I am back,” Jeongguk reassures in a slow voice, hand hovering over the small of
Taehyung's back before he presses down lightly. “I'm here. This is my apartment, remember?
I'm home.”

“But I came in and you weren't anywhere. I came in and you were gone, but you never leave.
You were supposed to be in here.”

The confused hurt in Taehyung's voice makes Jeongguk smile, wistful and fond. Taehyung
was really worried. He should've known to call him earlier. Shouldn't have left him hanging
for so long.

“I'm sorry. There was something important I had to do,” he explains vaguely, knowing there's
no way he can get into it now with the neighbor in this state. “Were you worried? Is that why
you're drunk?”

Taehyung squeezes the back of his neck, then pulls back slowly, head hanging low. Bangs
over his eyes, he shakes his head.

“So you drank to celebrate that you finally got rid of me?” Jeongguk adds halfheartedly.
The younger scoffs and shoves him back by the shoulders, nearly sending him flat on his ass.
“Not funny!”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Jeongguk smiles apologetically, holding onto the side of the bed. “Then why
were you drinking?”

"'Cause.”

"'Cause what?”

"'Cause I was sad, and I didn't wanna be sad anymore,” Taehyung sniffs, laying back on the
bed and reaching for Jeongguk's discarded pillow. He hugs it against his chest and flips over
to face the wall. “I just want to be happy again.”

Jeongguk frowns, staring at the back of his shirt. He knows he's to blame for Taehyung's
sadness—before they got close, the other was always bubbly and happy. Now he's usually
upset, stressed out, worried, apologetic. It's like some of Jeongguk's negativity seeped into
him, like he absorbed it as he helped him come out of his shell.

The thought makes Jeongguk's chest hurt. He doesn't want to do this. Doesn't want to burden
someone who's shown him nothing but kindness. Taehyung's helped him more than he can
imagine, but he's just a kid, a college freshman who should be having the time of his life right
now. None of this is his problem. And Jeongguk was about to turn back to him, burden him
all over again with all of his shit. So fucking selfish.

He can't keep relying on Taehyung forever. Can't do this to him anymore.

“Hey,” he says weakly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. When Taehyung doesn't
react, he forces out a smile and pokes the back of his shoulder. “What'd you think of my new
haircut? Do you like it?”

“Dunno you,” Taehyung mumbles.

“I'm that other one's better-looking twin. Flushed that ugly loser down the toilet.”

Taehyung rolls over, smacking him in the face with the pillow he's holding. Jeongguk
chuckles and grabs it on the next swing, easily yanking it away and tossing it on the floor.
When Taehyung's hand reaches out, he grabs it in midair and brings it to his lips, kissing the
blue gem on the ring around his middle finger.

Taehyung's hand goes still. Jeongguk feels his stare and meets hooded eyes when he looks
up.

“So, do you believe me now?”

“You're a twin...”

Jeongguk grins.

“...'Cause you're much meaner than the real one.”

Jeongguk drops his head with a laugh, giving Taehyung's fingers a firm squeeze and feeling a
slight tightening in return. They hold hands for a few minutes, crouched and lying there like
there's nothing weird about what they're doing. Taehyung's hand is warm and envelopes his
easily, blunt fingertips pressed against his palm. After some time, Jeongguk's thighs start to
protest the position, so he stands up and pulls on his hand.

Taehyung lets him haul him up, swaying dangerously on his feet. Jeongguk snakes an arm
around his waist and Taehyung catches himself by grabbing his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” the other mumbles. “Just peachy. You can take me home now.”

Feeling a wave of deja vu, Jeongguk supports Taehyung with an arm around the waist as they
walk out of the bedroom. Taehyung steps over the baseball bat on the floor without comment,
and together they stumble their way down the hallway and out of the apartment. They stop by
Taehyung's unit across the hall, Jeongguk's travel bag forgotten behind them.

“Keys?”

Taehyung reaches into his sweatpants and produces a familiar keychain from his pocket, a
heart-shaped plush dangling from the keys. He attempts to shove it into the keyhole himself,
missing spectacularly and nicking the wood. Jeongguk covers his hand with his own and
guides the key to the right spot, slipping it in and turning it gently. Beneath his palm,
Taehyung's skin is clammy.

Apartment 9A is just as Jeongguk remembered it, a mirrored replica of his own. This time, it
doesn't smell sweet like incense or Yankee candles, but somewhat stuffy and stale. As he
half-carries Taehyung to the red couch in the living room, he sees two shot glasses and green
bottles on the table, along with pliers and tweezer-like tools. There's a sculpture fashioned out
of copper wire at the center of the table, a project Jeongguk thinks he caught a glimpse of in
its early stages, but he can't tell exactly what it is since it's facing the other way. Stumbling
over some cushions on the floor, he helps Taehyung onto the sofa.

“Did your friends come over?” he guesses, eyeing the cushions and soju cups.

“Jiminie,” Taehyung sniffs, stretching out on his side, legs over the armrest of the couch. “He
told me to stop smotherin' you.”

“Smothering me?”

“Yeah. 'Cause I smothered all my other crushes and they eventually got sick of me,” he sighs,
pillowing a hand under a cheek. “He said I lay my cards on the table too soon. I'm too easy.”

Jeongguk doesn't know how to respond to that, is a little embarrassed that Taehyung's telling
him this when he probably doesn't mean to. But even if he wasn't meant to hear this, it doesn't
sit right with him.
“I… Well,” he clears his throat. “I think that's a load of horse shit. I'd never get sick of you,
so forget that.”

Taehyung's eyes flit up, meeting his, and there's this second where his pupils dilate and it
looks like he's about to cry or barf, but then he swallows and bites his lip, staring at Jeongguk
blankly. Jeongguk stares back, awkward, and thinks he might be blushing. I'd never get sick
of you? What the fuck, why would he say that? He hopes Taehyung forgets about this in the
morning.

Clearing his throat again, he scratches his nose and looks away. “Anyway. Need help getting
into bed?”

Taehyung rolls onto his back. “Kiss me.”

“Uh... You're kinda really drunk?”

“If you don't, I'll think you're a hallucination and go looking for the real one.”

“But I am the real one.”

“So prove it.”

Taehyung doesn't look like he's about to back down, his hands balled into fists on the couch
and his chin tipped up stubbornly. And yet, there's a tense edge to his posture that betrays
something less confident, like a part of him is bracing for a rejection. Perhaps because
Jeongguk pushed him away that time he tried to kiss him over drinks and a questionable
historical movie. Or perhaps because he doesn't think Jeongguk's forgiven him yet.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “A little one.”

Taehyung's eyes widen and he props himself up on an elbow as Jeongguk kneels by the
couch. Jeongguk can barely hold eye contact, his heart thumping in his chest from the sudden
proximity. When he does look up, Taehyung inhales and curls a hand behind his neck.

Jeongguk can't be sure who pushes in first, but it might be both of them. Their teeth knock
together and they both sort of laugh, Taehyung so breathy it makes the hairs at the back of
Jeongguk's neck stand up. He closes his eyes and his lips, pulling Taehyung's lightly between
them. Taehyung lets out a muffled hum and tightens his fingertips on his nape, exhaling
warmly through his nose. His breath smells like fruit soju, fanning his face when he parts his
lips and wraps them around Jeongguk's upper one, slick and hot and pulling.

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut, hand gripping the edge of the couch. He answers the warm
slide of lips as best as he can, strained and cautious and trying really hard not to get aroused.
He isn't used to kissing yet, even if it is easier than the first few times. When he feels a
tongue slip beneath his upper lip, Taehyung exhaling a shuddery breath that sounds
suspiciously like a moan, his eyes shoot open and he draws back.

“Proved it,” he gulps.

“Let's keep kissing,” the neighbor mumbles, low and breathy. His lips are red and he moves
them in a pouty way that makes them look very kissable. But Jeongguk knows they should
stop here.

“Look...I need to talk to you. There's something important I need to say.”

“Say it now,” he urges, stroking the curve of Jeongguk's neck and brushing a thumb under his
jaw with his big, warm hand. It takes every ounce of self-control in Jeongguk's admittedly
weak body to lean back and push that hand away.

“It's a sober kind of talk. And it's too late for that now anyway. Let me get you into bed,
okay? I'm exhausted, too.” He adds that last part for Taehyung's benefit, sensing that he's
about to complain.

Thankfully, that's enough to get the other to press his lips together, his shoulders sagging in
defeat. “Promise to talk to me tomorrow?” he asks, looking up at Jeongguk as Jeongguk
stands. “You'll answer the door when I come over?”

“Yeah. I will,” he promises, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

They make their way to Taehyung's bedroom, Taehyung staggering forward first and
Jeongguk trailing close behind to catch him if he falls. Taehyung only drops once he reaches
the bottom of his platform bed, the white sheets twisted and messy. The string lights around
the window are plugged in, casting a dim glow over half of the room.

Taehyung crawls up the mattress and sweeps aside the Juul on the pillow, lying on his side
and stretching over the sheets. “Stay with me,” he mumbles. When Jeongguk just sighs, he
adds, “please? I don't wanna be alone tonight.”

Lingering by the door, he stares at the neighbor's blue hair and dark roots and allows himself
a moment to feel glum. Will Taehyung ever re-dye his hair, or let the color simply fade away?
Will he dye it another shade, or leave it alone until the black replaces the blue? What would
he look like with natural hair?

“I should go,” he says, faltering.

“Please?” Taehyung repeats, just as weakly. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Jeongguk knows that staying now will only make some things harder when the time
inevitably comes, but god, does that sound good. Sleeping beside a warm body, having
someone to hold all night long. Waking up from nightmares and seeing Taehyung there,
gentle and smiling and ready to help. Touching his face and kissing his lips. Going back to
sleep and feeling lighter.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. He should go, but he doesn't want to be alone tonight, either.
He's had enough of being alone.

“Okay,” he agrees, “just until you fall asleep.”

Jeongguk walks over and lowers himself onto the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Still on his side, Taehyung scoots back to make room and pulls the sheets up, but Jeongguk
stays where he is and lies down, feet hanging over the edge.

They settle in facing each other, about a foot apart. This close, Jeongguk can see all the
details that make up Taehyung's face—the slight downward curve of his eyes, the dark fan of
his lashes, the light moles dusted over his cheek, nose, and lips. Taehyung is staring at him
too, pink tongue darting across his mouth, but when Jeongguk looks into his eyes, his eyelids
flutter shut.

“I know what you're gonna tell me tomorrow,” he whispers.

“...Huh?”

Taehyung swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. Jeongguk waits for him to speak again, but
his eyes don't reopen. A minute later, there's involuntary movement behind his lids, his
breathing evening out with sleep.

Jeongguk stays there for a while longer, staring at his face. Like this, it's almost like he's
already a normal person, just a regular man in bed with his boyfriend. But no matter how
good this feels, how right and easy it is at the moment, he knows that it's still just a fantasy.
He isn't ready yet, has nothing to offer anyone else when he's in this precarious condition.
He's at the edge of something, but not there yet. Far from it.

It simply isn't the right time.

Closing his eyes, Jeongguk sighs deeply and pushes off the mattress, making his way out of
the room as quietly as possible. As he's about to leave, he pauses at the sight of the wire
sculpture on the living room coffee table. After some hesitation, he walks over and reaches
out, turning it by the base to see the front of it.

As he suspected, the project is a bust, a simple head and neck slightly smaller than life size.
Copper wire is twisted and molded in several directions to form the hollow contour of
cheeks, a nose, and a mouth, like an intricate network of veins.

The sculpture has no features or facial expression, but Jeongguk immediately recognizes
himself in the thickness of the neck and curve of the shoulder. It's him, or at least something
inspired by him. An overwrought man, internal turmoil laid out for all to see. Somehow,
Taehyung's managed to make anxiety look beautiful.

Turning the sculpture back to how it was, Jeongguk walks back to his apartment.
The next day is Friday and Taehyung goes to college in the morning. Jeongguk uses that time
to do some laundry, clean the kitchen, take out the trash, and check in with his stepmom. She
sounds happy when he tells her what he's decided, calls out to the children in the background.
Jeongguk smiles when he hears the distant echo of their excited screaming.

There are still a dozen other things left to figure out, like breaking the lease, getting his
transcript, and shipping for all his stuff, but Sooyoung promises to take care of it when he
explains that just thinking about making phone calls makes him break into a cold sweat. It's
really very easy. All he needs to do is pack some essentials.

There's a knock on the door around six in the evening. He's been expecting it, so he's freshly
showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a navy hoodie. He opens the door and
finds Taehyung standing outside.

“Hey,” he smiles.

“Hey,” the neighbor smiles back.

Taehyung's wearing a dark green flannel that hangs loosely from his shoulders, the top few
buttons undone. There's a brown book bag hanging from his shoulder; he's probably coming
straight from class. Jeongguk tries not to stare too much, pushing the door open wider to let
him in. Taehyung continues down the hallway and pauses at the edge of the living room.

“...Have you been cleaning up?”

There's no more trash in the apartment, the garbage and recycling bins perfectly empty and
bagless in the corner. The blanket that had become a permanent fixture on the couch is folded
neatly on the armrest, Jeongguk's couch pillow over it.

Jeongguk closes the front door with a sniff, walking over and pretending not to see the shock
in the neighbor's eyes. “Yeah. A little.”

“A lot, it looks like. That's good. Cleaning's good,” Taehyung laughs, but sounds unsure of it
himself.

“Yeah.” Jeongguk scratches the side of his nose.

They momentarily fall silent, Taehyung looking around the room and walking in slowly, like
he isn't sure where to sit. Jeongguk watches him move in his home and commits the sight to
memory. When the thought of what happens next becomes too unbearable, he clasps his
hands behind his back and clears his throat.

“So, uh. Are you hungry? Wanna eat?”

“Sure,” Taehyung agrees, turning toward him. “Ramen? Or we could order pizza.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could go to that restaurant around the corner. You know, where
you ate for your birthday?”
“Oh.” Taehyung's eyes widen. “...A-Are you sure? We don't need to go out if you don't want
to.”

“I want to. You like that place, right?”

“Yes… Yeah, I like it.” Taehyung furrows his brows, biting his lip. He looks a bit conflicted,
shuffling on his feet and clutching the strap of his book bag, the veins on his hand jumping.
Jeongguk supposes that's the right reaction with his track record of freaking out when he's in
public.

“Don't worry, I won't run off this time,” he promises. “I was just out there for a few days. I'll
be fine.”

Taehyung purses his lips, eyes shifting over Jeongguk's face. He still looks somewhat
hesitant, like he understands that there's something big going on but doesn't want to ask what
it is. Jeongguk knows exactly what that's like, and it makes him smile sadly.

“...Where did you go, Guk?” Taehyung asks after a pregnant pause. “Where were you these
past few days?”

“I'll tell you over dinner.”

The restaurant has large windows and an aluminum door, the facade covered by a grimy
striped awning. Most of the tables inside are occupied—it's a busy Friday night, couples and
friends sharing drinks over cheap noodles. A waitress welcomes them with a set of laminated
menus, walks them over to a table at the front and tosses the menus down before leaving
them to it.

Jeongguk takes a seat across from Taehyung, his chair scraping across the concrete.
Taehyung sits close, the small table wobbling when he lays an arm over it. Jeongguk stays far
back, slouched out of habit. They make eye contact briefly, then both glance away.
Jeongguk's heart is pounding in his chest.

Silence isn't usual for them since Taehyung always gets him talking, but tonight he seems
equally nervous or even more so, dragging the decorative faux candle at the center of the
table closer as Jeongguk watches him.

“So...” he starts slowly, pinching the battery-powered flame. “Did I do anything embarrassing
last night?”

“Like what?”

“Did I say anything too personal? Was I pushy?”

“Pushy?”
“I remember asking you to kiss me,” he mutters, eyes lowered. “Making you kiss me. And
kissing you. Not much else beyond that.”

Jeongguk cracks a smile, watching him fidget and thinking he's the best thing that's ever
happened to him. He debates whether to tell him as much, but decides against it for both their
sakes. “I wanted to kiss you. I love kissing you, trust me.” Taehyung glances up, a glint in his
eye telling Jeongguk to keep going, but he moves onto safer topics, “anyway, I can't believe
you actually broke into my place. How'd you learn how to do that?”

“YouTube. And I know my way around a toolbox,” Taehyung mumbles, a smile tugging at
his lips. “Could figure out pretty much anything if I set my mind to it.”

“I bet you could. Figured me out pretty good.”

The waitress from earlier returns, flipping over their cups and filling them with tea from an
icy jug. Taehyung thanks her easily and Jeongguk stumbles over his words, then they take a
second to look over the menu and choose their food.

They sit in silence after placing their order, the chatter from nearby tables and sizzling from
the kitchen filling the space between them. Jeongguk sips his tea and waits for a question, but
Taehyung seems to be fiddling with the sleeve of his flannel under the table, his eyes back on
the fake candle. It looks like he might be waiting for Jeongguk to speak first, likely to gauge
where they're at after their argument. Jeongguk sets down his cup and clears his throat.

“You never answered my question last night. How'd you like my haircut?” he asks. “Give me
some advice, you're the one with the good hair.”

Taehyung looks up. “Your hair's just as—”

“—Yeah, yeah, my hair's just as beautiful, don't shit on yourself, I know the drill,” he cuts in.
Taehyung snaps his mouth shut, eyebrows raising. Jeongguk continues, “anyway, I'm not
trying to make a self-deprecating joke, I'm just asking you how you like my haircut since I
buzzed it myself.”

“...You did?”

He nods. “In my parents' bathroom. My stepmom's bathroom, I guess.”

“I thought you said your family lives in Busan.”

“They do.”

“You were in Busan?” Taehyung sounds shocked, alarmed, even.

“I was,” he starts slowly, suppressing a sigh. “I, um. I was at my dad's funeral.”

Taehyung's jaw drops and Jeongguk sees all color drain from his face. He can be so fucking
easy to read sometimes, emotions crystal clear on his face. When his face crumples,
Jeongguk feels the echo of his heartbreak. “Oh god, no…”
“It's okay,” he jumps in, swallowing back so his voice is less thick. “We sent him off
peacefully. I've spent the past 72 hours grieving. Seriously, no more crying. I can't handle any
more crying right now.”

Taehyung keeps his head hung low, obviously crying anyway. He wipes fingers over his eyes
under his hair, sniffling. “It's not fair. I can't believe that happened.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Me neither. It's like...” It's like there's this huge weight on my chest, intense
fucking regret and hurt that I don't know how to handle by myself. That's what it's like, but
Jeongguk stops himself from voicing it when he remembers his realization from last night,
how he's been unloading all his shit onto this empathetic person and burdening him with
some of the oppressive cloud of self-loathing he carries. “—It's hard, yeah.”

The waitress returns with Taehyung's rice noodles and his spring rolls, setting them on the
table and refilling their tea. Jeongguk feels Taehyung staring at him, but keeps his eyes on the
food as he thanks the server in a mumble and takes a slow sip of the poured drink.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Taehyung asks softly. It's all there in his voice, the million-
dollar question. What is he gonna do?

“I'm gonna reapply to college, finish my degree. See a doctor and maybe get some pills to
cure me or something,” he laughs dryly because it sounds far-fetched. Part of him believes
he'll stay like this forever, twitchy and scared. But he doesn't say that either because he wants
to stay positive. “I'm moving back home.”

He looks up as he says it. Taehyung goes very still, shoulders and posture rigid as his
expression drains of emotion. The table wobbles for a second as something shifts over its
feet, then the neighbor tilts his face down so his hair is covering his eyes again.

“I knew it,” he whispers. “I knew this day would come.”

Jeongguk can't say that he did, but Taehyung doesn't know the intricacies of his family
dynamic, his awkward and contentious relationship with his stepmother and almost
nonexisting ties to his parents. He doesn't know that Jeongguk's never once felt important, or
perhaps not before meeting him. In the grand scheme of things, Taehyung has no idea how
fucked up he really is, and Jeongguk has no intention of illuminating him.

“Yeah, well, looks like it's happening sooner rather than later,” he says, picking up a spring
roll with his chopsticks and dipping it in the sauce before taking a bite. “I'm basically just
here to pack some stuff. I'm going back tomorrow.”

Taehyung's breath hitches, his head still lowered. Jeongguk stares at the black roots of his
dyed hair and is oddly reminded of his stepmom, how she wept at his father's funeral. He
worries that Taehyung might start crying like that too, but when he raises his head, his face is
perfectly dry. His eyes, though, are—

“I understand,” Taehyung whispers hoarsely. He picks up his own chopsticks and swirls them
through the broth in his bowl, pushing around the bean sprouts. “Moving in with family,
that's great. I'm so happy for you.”
Jeongguk doesn't point out the obvious, that he doesn't look happy. Taehyung isn't even
hiding that he isn't, which means that he probably wants Jeongguk to know the truth. Even if
he won't say it.

“Yeah. Me too.”

After dinner, they head back to their building. Taehyung offers to help him pack, but
Jeongguk's already taken care of most of it that afternoon. There's a suitcase full of clothes
and toiletries in his bedroom, tucked by the desk. He'll take care of the rest in the morning.

They go to Taehyung's apartment instead since it feels much cozier than his barren one.
Taehyung heads in first as Jeongguk takes off his boots at the door. Jeongguk hears him
carrying dirty dishes from the living room to the kitchen sink. When he walks down the
hallway, there's nothing left on the coffee table from last night.

“Where'd you put that sculpture?” he asks. “The one you made with a bunch of wire?”

“You saw that?” Taehyung comes over, wiping his hands on his khaki pants. “I had to bring it
in today. It's my final project.”

“Oh. Semester's almost over, huh?”

Taehyung nods, pausing by the red couch and curling fingers around his sleeves. His green
shirt is skewed over his shoulders, one collarbone exposed widely. Again, Jeongguk tries not
to stare.

“Wanna watch a movie together?” Taehyung asks timidly, pushing a hand through his hair.
“How about Titanic?”

“What's with you and long movies?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you trying to
keep me around for 4 hours again?”

Taehyung's eyes flit away and Jeongguk realizes he just accidentally hit the nail on the head.
Taehyung's been suggesting that they watch super long movies and marathons because he
wants to hang out for longer.

The neighbor looks embarrassed that he realized, but doesn't deny it or try to blow it off. He
steps over to the couch and sits down, pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking it
with his fingerprint. “I've had a crush on you since I saw you,” he whispers, white glow
illuminating his face. “How could I not? You carried me home and took care of me. Silly me
didn't stand a chance.”
Jeongguk stares at him with his lips parted, not knowing what to say. Taehyung finally looks
up and meets his eyes, looking so heartbroken Jeongguk feels a pang in his chest. Taehyung
breaks eye contact first, tilting his head back against the couch.

“And now you're moving away,” he adds softly, Adam's apple bobbing.

Jeongguk wants to ask if he'll remain his friend, if they can go back to texting each other
memes and silly videos every day like they used to. But it seems like a big ask, especially
after this. Besides, none of his college roommates stayed in contact. No one's ever fought to
keep him around.

“You'll get over it,” he says, licking dry lips and moving over to sit on the opposite end of the
loveseat, two half cushions between them. “You might miss me for a few days, but you'll
forget eventually.”

You have plenty of other friends, he adds in his head, but doesn't have the guts to say it.

Taehyung makes a disbelieving noise, tossing his phone aside and turning to face him.
Jeongguk can feel the weight of his stare, but he keeps his eyes on the candles along the
window because he's a coward.

A hand moves onto his shoulder after a moment, Taehyung sliding a palm over his arm and
gripping the fabric of the hood bunched against his nape. “I hope someday you won't think
like that anymore,” he whispers, deep voice thick. “I hope you'll believe me when I tell you
that you're special and I care about you.”

A lump rises in Jeongguk's throat. He swallows it back and hears it in his ears. There's an
uncomfortable pressure in his chest, similar to what he now thinks of as panic, but it's tinged
in something more bittersweet than unpleasant. He isn't terrified or uncomfortable or even
sad—he just wants to do better. To live up to that.

“I read your texts, by the way. Sorry I didn't respond,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes.
“Thank you for saying all of that. I might've still been locked in my room if you hadn't sent
that.” Taehyung hums, hand still curled around Jeongguk's hood. The side of his thumb is
pressed against his nape and Jeongguk wants to push his whole body against it, have him
touch him more. “I meant to tell you this before. Before… yeah. You know what.”

Jeongguk doesn't know if he actually does, if any of this makes sense to him, but his silence
suggests that it does.

“I meant everything I said, Guk,” Taehyung replies slowly, thumbing lightly at his hood.
“What I did, it was wrong. I shouldn't have pretended not to know. I should've just asked you
how I could help.”

“You were just trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, but now I see that that wasn't very nice at all. I shouldn't have done it. I'm really
sorry.”
“It's okay,” Jeongguk sniffs, wiping a finger under his nose. “I'm sorry for yelling at you.”

“It's all good. You were upset. I knew that.”

They go silent again, the moment feeling very much like a goodbye. Jeongguk's last loose
end finally resolving itself. He keeps staring straight ahead as Taehyung strokes at his hoodie,
touching but maintaining a safe distance. Jeongguk hates it. He hates it so much.

After a few minutes, Taehyung climbs off the couch and walks toward the windows, undoing
the latch and pushing the bottom sash open. He picks up a matchbook on the ledge and takes
out a match, scraping it against the lining to create a flame. He lights the candles around the
window, one by one.

“Let's stay awake all night. I know you can do it,” Taehyung glances his way as if daring him
to deny it, then laughs under his breath. “Let's see if we can make it til dawn.”

Jeongguk stares at candles as he lights them, the flames flickering under the breeze.
Taehyung walks back and tosses the matchbook on the coffee table, then continues over to
the adjoining bedroom.

“Tell me all about your family in Busan. I want to know what they're like,” Taehyung says
when he returns, vape in hand. He gives it a little shake and walks back to the window, sitting
sideways on the ledge. When Jeongguk lingers on the couch, he pats the space in front of
him, pushing the nearest candle further out. “Come on. I'll tell you about mine, too.”

Taehyung clicks the vape button several times, a light flashing around it, then presses and
holds and takes a drag from the metal mouthpiece. He turns to Jeongguk with a smile, leaning
back against the window nook and pushing fingers through blue hair. He breathes out a cloud
of white vapor, a strawberry scent wafting toward Jeongguk before it dissipates through the
open window.

“Gonna come here or make me go over there and drag you?” Taehyung taunts, raising an
eyebrow.

Jeongguk stands up, walks over to the window and stops beside him. Taehyung looks up at
him, tilting his head back, the low collar of his shirt exposing golden brown skin. Jeongguk
cups Taehyung's jaw and leans down, pressing his lips over his. Taehyung sighs contentedly,
wrapping an arm around Jeongguk's shoulders and running the other hand up his chest.
Jeongguk slips a tongue into his mouth and tastes strawberries and tangy nicotine, the hard
edge of a Juul digging into his back.

When they pull apart, Jeongguk is breathing heavily and Taehyung's lips are red and parted.
Dragging a thumb over the corner of Taehyung's mouth, Jeongguk leans back in to give him
another hard kiss, then pulls away and sits beside him at the window.

“I have two brothers and one sister,” Jeongguk starts, unzipping his hoodie and turning
toward the window to let the night air cool him down. “I think you'll like them.”
Chapter End Notes

the next chapter will serve as an epilogue!

want more? read my newest completed fic We'll Meet Again.

curiouscat
 Breathe Deeper
Chapter Summary

Breathe a little deeper should you need to come undone, and let those colors run.

Chapter Notes

this is the last one. it's an epilogue, but it's also the longest chapter in the fic :p

enjoy!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It's summer. The air is dense and muggy despite the early hour, making sweat prickle at
Jeongguk's temple. He wipes it away with a wristband, continuing on his way.

This is his 7 a.m. daily jog—although it might be more accurate to call it a walk because he
often slows down to catch his breath. It was his therapist who suggested going running in the
morning, when there's almost no one around the city. He'd scoffed at the idea at first,
assuming it was Dr. Bang's subtle way of telling him he needed to lose weight, but now that
he's been doing it for a solid month, he can see what the guy meant by it being good for the
mood.

When he's out on morning jogs, every thought, every voice, every shadow in his mind simply
evaporates. He's focused on running, not on who's looking and how they perceive him. When
he's out in the world, he's merely part of an ecosystem, ego all but abolished.

It's nice. Exactly what he needed.

“I'm home,” Jeongguk calls out when he gets back to the house, kicking off his sneakers.

His siblings should still be asleep, but his stepmom always has breakfast ready when he
returns from his runs. He can hear her in the kitchen, the sound of a knife on the chopping
board.

“Welcome back,” she returns.

Jeongguk shakes off the front of his damp t-shirt and heads in. As he suspected, Sooyoung is
slicing Vienna sausages into octopus shapes for the children. When she drops them into the
hot skillet, the sliced edges curl up. Jihoon goes crazy over those.

Pulling out a chair, he takes a seat at the dining table and wipes his forehead with a napkin.
It's 07:45, according to his watch. Sooyoung comes over with a bowl of steaming rice, setting
it before him.

“You're back early today,” she notes. “Too hot out?”

“Yeah, sorta. I stayed in the neighborhood instead of using the trails. Didn't want to cut it too
close.”

“There's still plenty of time. His train arrives at 12:45, right?”

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk feels a half-nervous, half-excited somersault in his belly. He's been counting down
the days till today, and now the day is finally here. Fuck.

Sooyoung walks back to the stove with a smile, leaving him to grab the chopsticks and start
picking off the sticky rice from the bowl.

“We'll have to get the air mattress from the closet. I'll set it up in your room.”

“I already did. Last night.”

His stepmom comes back with a second bowl of steaming soup, setting it before him with a
fond smile.

She's looking healthier these days, some color returned to her cheeks and her eyebags
completely gone. Some silver strands he doesn't remember her having before have remained
in her hair though, permanent reminders of the past few weeks. Sooyoung was going through
a rough patch when he moved in, but now that the kids don't cry every night anymore, some
weight has visibly lifted from her shoulders. He's glad. The woman has been through a lot,
and deserves to be happy.

“Thanks, mom,” he smiles.

Her grin stretches. She ruffles his hair and he allows it for a second before craning back and
smoothing down his bangs, trimmed well above his eyes.

The kids run downstairs as soon as the table is set. Sooyoung scolds them for making so
much noise, and they apologize without meaning it and find seats around Jeongguk, Sohee
next to him and Jihoon climbing onto his lap. Sooyoung barks at Jihoon to find his own seat,
but then the baby upstairs starts crying and she goes tend to him, leaving Jeongguk at the
mercy of his devilish half-siblings.

“Hyung, you stink,” Jihoon complains, reaching into Jeongguk's soup to pick out a tofu cube
with his fingers.
Jeongguk twists his nose in disgust but allows it, leaning back with an amused snort. He was
done eating, anyway.

“Oh yeah? What do I smell like?”

“Like sweat,” the boy answers, munching on the tofu. “Like sour gummy bears.”

“Ew,” Sohee shrieks, giggling. She leans closer and takes her own whiff of Jeongguk's arm.
“No he doesn't! He smells like laundry soap.”

Jeongguk lifts an arm and sniffs, careful not to jostle his brother. Yeah, he's sweaty, but this is
nothing. At least he's sweating because he was exercising, not because he's anxious. And
there's a difference, somehow. This kind of sweat smells different than that kind of sweat. He
must be insane for thinking so, surely. He should ask Dr. Bang next time they meet.

With another snort, Jeongguk pokes his brother's hunched spine. Jihoon corrects his posture
immediately, forewarned about the woes of early-onset back pain.

“If I smell so bad, why are you sitting on me? You heard mom, find your own seat,” he
teases.

“I like this one,” Jihoon declares, picking through the soup.

“You mean me? Or the chair?”

Jihoon doesn't answer, too busy sucking on his grubby fingers to speak. Absolutely filthy.
100% related to him.

How Sohee shares his DNA is much more of a mystery. She eats neatly, slurping from a
spoon and using a napkin to clean her face after each bite. When Jeongguk steals an octopus
sausage from her plate, she shoots him a sharp glare but lets him. He can only guess she has
more of Sooyoung's genes than his dad's, an extra refinement missing from his own genetic
makeup.

But when she catches him staring, she sets down her chopsticks and presses fingers over her
face, stretching down her eye sockets in a gross way. Yeah, they're definitely related, too.

Sooyoung eventually returns carrying baby Jungwoo, who's crying at the top of his little
lungs. The kid is a screamer, waking up every four hours or so to cry over one thing or
another. It's hunger sometimes, a dirty diaper usually. He feels bad that his stepmom has to
deal with all of that doo-doo by herself, but he draws the line at changing diapers.

“I hope you warned your boyfriend about your baby brother, or he's in for quite a surprise,”
Sooyoung says as she walks to the fridge. “I'll keep Woo in my room while he's here, but you
know how he gets.”

“—Uh... Taehyung isn't my boyfriend.”

Sooyoung, Sohee, and even Jihoon turn toward him, the final with soup smeared all over his
chin. Jeongguk reaches for a napkin to quickly wipe the kid's mouth when liquid drips on his
blue PJs. His baby brother smacks his lips and turns back to the food, finger-fishing some
more tofu.

“Are you sure?” Sooyoung asks, bouncing Jungwoo. “Because you know it'd be perfectly
alright if he is.”

“He isn't,” Jeongguk coughs. “—Tae and I are just friends.”

“But do you want to be Taehyung-ssi's boyfriend?” his sister asks, sipping on some soup.

Jeongguk blinks in surprise and glances at her, trying to figure out how the hell she knows.
Sure, he and Taehyung have FaceTimed a lot since he left Seoul, but the two of them have
kept it entirely platonic when his siblings are around.

It's by no rule of Sooyoung's or discomfort on his part—it just felt more appropriate. They
really aren't dating. They never talked about what they're doing before he moved away.
They're just staying in touch.

“Why would you think that?” he asks.

The first-grader shrugs. “The way you talk to him. It sounds like you really like him, oppa.”

“Mommy, more rice!” Jihoon screams.

His stepmom is busy heating up Jungwoo's bottle, so Jeongguk slides off the chair, nudging
his brother aside. Scooping up Jihoon's empty bowl, he walks to the rice cooker and starts
refilling.

“Tae and I are just friends. I'm not lying, I promise. Why would he even want to date me?”
That's what he says, but he knows it's not right. Taehyung does sort of like him. Somehow.
Mysteriously. He does. “—But the main thing is that he lives in Seoul and I'm here, so that
wouldn't work. More rice, mandu?”

Sohee scowls at the nickname, which hilariously makes her cheeks look even bigger, but he
holds back another joke and picks up her bowl when she hands it over.

“That's your business, but know that we'll support you either way,” his stepmother says,
pressing the bottle against her arm. “As long as you're happy, kiddo, we're happy. I'd just
want to know that he treats you well.”

Between his workaholic dad and absent mother, Jeongguk's never had to discuss crushes or
even friends with a parental figure. Is this the so-called "sex talk" kids have with their
parents?

If so, he'd rather it not be in front of children. Rather it not happen at all. His business is his
business.

“Can we please not talk about this? It's stressing me out.”

Sooyoung understands the weight of that warning, by now realizes that some topics that seem
perfectly fine for normies make him unreasonably anxious. He first explained this using
terms taught to him by his therapist, and while that was the most humiliating conversation of
his life, it also improved his well-being significantly.

“Okay,” she sighs. “I just hope you realize that distance isn't a big deal. You don't always
have to be in different cities. It's not like you'll be in this house your whole life.”

His stepmom turns away and goes about feeding the kids, but her words ring in Jeongguk's
head for another minute.

He won't be in this house his whole life. Now that's a thought.

The sentiment also reminds him of something else his therapist said in one of their more
recent meetings, when Jeongguk had tried to explain why he decided to move back in with
his family:

You deserve happiness, Jeongguk. Let yourself have it.

After breakfast, Jeongguk heads up to his room to wash off the sweat from his jog. Stripping
out of his sweaty clothes, he steps into the shower with his phone in hand.

It's still a little early for news from Taehyung, but he opens their text thread to check
anyway.

Taehyung was the one to send the final text last night, a response to his goodnight wish.

See you tomorrow! <3

Received 11:49 PM

It was Taehyung's idea to come visit for a few days, one he sprung on Jeongguk about two
weeks ago. Taehyung's on summer vacation from college, so he's been sending all sorts of
selfies from Daegu. Jeongguk hadn't expected him to say anything—much less plan a whole
trip—when he told him that seeing his face made him miss him more, but Taehyung bought
tickets without consulting him and so it became a thing.

Jeongguk can't wait. Needs to see him, spend some time with him, even if just as a friend.
It's only been three months since they said goodbye in Seoul, but to him it feels like an
eternity. He misses the feeling of living across the hall from the blue-haired neighbor, of
knowing he'd be there when the doorbell rang. Taehyung was always right there but he was
too chickenshit to take advantage. And now he's miles away, out of reach.

God, Jeongguk fucking misses him.

He types out a quick message before setting his phone on the sink so he can get on with
showering.

Good morning.

Can't wait to see you. xo

Delivered 8:49 AM

Taehyung's train arrives at 12:41, which Jeongguk knows because he's there, waiting at the
train station.

He hears the announcement on the speakers first, then gets the text:

I'm here!

I'm so excited!!!!!!

Received 12:41 PM

Meet me at the exit, Jeongguk replies, then puts the phone away. His stomach is fluttering, the
swirl of nerves and anticipation he's felt all morning reaching a crescendo. But it isn't the
scary kind, doesn't make him want to run away.

Instead, he plants both feet firmly on the ground and looks strangers in the face in hopes of
spotting the one who makes him most comfortable.
He emerges from around a corner wheeling a small suitcase. He's wearing glasses and his
blue hair is windswept and pushed back, so faded it's almost more green than blue now. Even
dressed simply in a black t-shirt and black slacks, Taehyung stands out in the crowd,
Jeongguk's eyes immediately drawn to him.

When he notices him, Taehyung breaks into a wide grin and waves frantically, Jeongguk
waving back and only barely resisting the urge to meet him halfway.

Taehyung stops when they're an arm's length away.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hey,” Jeongguk returns.

He reaches for Jeongguk's hand, and Jeongguk immediately curls fingers around his, giving
ringed digits a firm squeeze.

“It's good to see you. You look well,” Taehyung says.

Jeongguk's heart is thudding in his chest, his fingers clutching the other's hand likely too
firmly for comfort. He loosens the grip, but holds on. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung steps closer. He's smiling so brightly, looks so happy to be there.
“Thanks for having me, baby.”

They're in public and Jeongguk's stepmom is probably still in view in the car, but suddenly
none of that matters. Jeongguk knows what happens next before his mind has fully caught
onto it, free hand lifting to Taehyung's cheek while his legs close the remaining distance.

He slides his mouth over Taehyung's just as the other leans forward, a hand hooking over his
shoulder. Taehyung's fingers grip his shirt, a tight fist that tugs him impossibly closer. He is
warm and soft against him when Jeongguk wraps an arm around his waist, the rise and fall of
Taehyung's breathing pushed against his chest.

Jeongguk parts his lips and slips a tongue into his mouth. Taehyung makes a surprised noise,
a low hum into the kiss, and curls arms around his neck, sinking fingers into his hair.

Jeongguk meant it when he said they aren't dating, but the idea seems to hang there between
them, an unspoken suggestion: If you were mine, this is how we'd greet—an arm around a
waist, a hand on a cheek, a subtle press of hips.

When they inch apart a minute later, Taehyung's lips are kiss-bitten and his glasses skewed
over his nose. He looks adorably wrecked and mighty pleased about it, lips curled in coy
approval. Jeongguk swipes a thumb across his cheek to fix his glasses, staring into his eyes.

“You only have one double eyelid,” he realizes. “A monolid and a double eyelid.”

Taehyung blinks, lashes fluttering. He wets his lips and drops his gaze to Jeongguk's mouth,
eyes lidding further. That look is dangerous, Jeongguk thinks, itching to drag him back into a
kiss. Reluctantly, he lets his arm fall away and grabs the suitcase.
“My stepmom's waiting in the car. Let's go.”

Taehyung latches onto Jeongguk's free arm and hangs on as Jeongguk rolls the suitcase
across the parking lot. Jeongguk catches a glimpse of him leaning in and inhaling his shirt,
and is thankful he remembered to spray on deodorant.

“Hello,” Sooyoung greets when they climb into the waiting car. “Nice to meet you,
Taehyung-ssi. I'm Sooyoung.”

“It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Jeon. I've heard a lot about you.” Taehyung bows politely.
“Jeongguk didn't tell me how pretty you'd be, though.”

His stepmother laughs, tucking her loose hair behind her ears and starting the car.

“You're such a gentleman, Taehyung-ssi. Thank you very much.”

They drive back to the house, Jeongguk's stepmom asking Taehyung all sorts of questions
about his family and home. Jeongguk notices she avoids the topic of their time spent as
neighbors though, and has a suspicion that that's for his benefit. And while she's partially
right that the reminder can be painful sometimes, he thinks he'd have no problem reminiscing
about his days with Taehyung.

When they arrive at the house, Jeongguk carries Taehyung's suitcase up the porch steps. As
soon as the front door opens, his little brother comes running downstairs with a Buzz
Lightyear figure in hand, a frazzled nanny rushing to keep up.

“Mommy!” Jihoon shouts, rushing right into Sooyoung and wrapping little arms around her
legs.

“Hoonie, please don't run around the house,” she sighs, stepping into her slippers. Jihoon
stays silent, staring up at the new arrival as they all remove their shoes at the entryway. “Do
you know who that is?” she asks, noticing. “Do you recognize him?”

The boy nods.

“Who is he?”

“I... dunno,” Jihoon mumbles, looking over at Jeongguk with a question in his eyes.

Grinning, Taehyung crouches with his elbows folded over his knees, hands propped under his
chin. “Do you like blue, Jihoon-ah?”

Jihoon's gaze moves to Taehyung, curious eyes boring into his fading blue hair for a long
moment before he detaches himself from his mother's side with a nod.

“Want to touch it?” Taehyung offers, removing his glasses and carding fingers through his
hair. The longish strands fall in waves around his face, black at the roots, pale blue
throughout, yellowing at the tips. He lowers his head.
The toy figure slips from Jihoon's hand, the boy reaching out to press a palm over Taehyung's
head. Knowing how filthy those tiny hands usually are, Jeongguk pities Taehyung's hair, but
the other doesn't seem to mind. He's grinning from ear to ear, face angled toward the floor.

“What's your favorite color, Jihoon-ah?” Taehyung continues, pushing back a lock that falls
over his eye. “Mine's blue. Some of the most beautiful things in life are blue. The sky, the
ocean, hydrangeas, sapphires… Even people, sometimes.”

Taehyung's eyes flit over to Jeongguk, who just stares at him wordlessly, fingers caught
around his shoelaces.

“—So I woke up one day and my hair had turned blue,” Taehyung says with a smile. “What
color would you like your hair to be?”

Jihoon blinks like he's just as bewitched by Taehyung as he is, enamoured by his words and
his heart and his looks. But alas, Jeongguk has a history of projecting his own thoughts onto
people, and his little brother is only four years old.

“Black!” Jihoon screeches, hands flying to his bed of black hair. He takes off in a fit of
hysterical giggles, running into the living room and forcing his flustered nanny to collect his
toy and follow.

Taehyung chuckles, standing up.

“Are you hungry, Taehyung-ssi? I was just about to reheat lunch,” Sooyoung calls out from
the kitchen.

“Yes, I could definitely eat,” he returns.

They walk into the next room and Jeongguk starts laying out the tablecloth. Taehyung offers
Sooyoung a hand and she instructs him to set the table, stacks of plates and bowls waiting on
the counter. He carries them over and Jeongguk takes half of the load.

“Where's your little sister?”

“Probably in her room, drawing. She's shy.”

“Just like her brother, then,” Taehyung grins. “Although you only pretend to be.”

“Pretend to be what?”

“Shy,” Taehyung says, pulling out a chair and sitting. He puts his elbows up on the table and
folds hands under his chin, tilting his head as he watches Jeongguk sit beside him. “You're
actually surprisingly confident.”

Jeongguk bursts into a laugh. “You must've forgotten who I am already. In three months,
really? Damn, that was fast.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You can't fool me. I know the real you.”
That sobers Jeongguk up a little, giving him pause.

The real him. Who is the real him? What is he like now, when being a hermit isn't his whole
life?

He's still figuring it out.

Jeongguk's little sister does come downstairs eventually, although it's only when her mother
announces that lunch is ready. She sits across from Jeongguk, stiff in her chair and with eyes
firmly on her plate. Jeongguk tries to tease her about her skewed pigtails to get her to relax,
but she still acts all shy and mumbly, refusing to look at their guest.

And honestly, who can blame her? She has eyes, can see how intimidatingly gorgeous
Taehyung is. Jeongguk couldn't look at him properly when they first met, either.

“Do you like drawing, Sohee-ah? Your brother told me you do,” Taehyung eventually speaks
up. “I wish I could draw. I can't, so I only paint.”

That catches the girl's attention. Sohee's been obsessed with tracing paintings these days. She
glances up timidly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. Want to see?”

She nods, and Taehyung reaches into his pocket for his phone.

Jeongguk peers over and sees him browsing through his photo gallery, scrolling through
pictures of his home in Daegu. He sees a lot of jewelry, Taehyung's parents and younger
siblings.

“Here. I painted this a few years ago.”

Taehyung sets the phone on the table and pushes it toward Sohee, who leans closer to look at
the screen. The photo is upside down for Jeongguk, but he can make out a face composed of
basic geometric shapes, swirls of watercolors only around the outline. Sohee stares at it with
wide eyes.

“Told you I can't draw,” Taehyung grins, prompting her to giggle. “You should draw a prettier
face that we can color together.”

“Okay,” Sohee agrees immediately, blushing.

Jeongguk presses his lips together to hide a smile. He won't be surprised if by the end of
Taehyung's stay, his sister has a crush.

The two of them are related, after all.

The kids finish eating first, their nanny taking them upstairs for a nap. Sooyoung, who had
been nursing Jungwoo upstairs, comes down to load the dishwasher, tidying up.
“Thank you for the food, Mrs. Jeon,” Taehyung says. “I'm very happy to be here. Thanks for
welcoming me into your home.”

“Oh, it's my pleasure. You're the first friend Jeongguk has ever brought over.”

It's clear Sooyoung means well, but that still sends a twinge of embarrassment through
Jeongguk, who hunches a little lower.

Of course he's never brought anyone else home, he doesn't have any other—

“That makes me so happy,” Taehyung replies, dropping a hand over Jeongguk's fists where
they rest on his lap. Jeongguk jolts, staring at his face. “Your son is very important to me, so
I'm glad I could finally visit him in person.”

The kitchen faucet turns off, Sooyoung turning around to face them. She wipes her hands on
her dress, a smile as wide as the moon stamped across her face. Jeongguk hasn't seen her
smile like that in quite a while, perhaps not since his father passed away.

“I'm glad you're here, Taehyung-ah. Please, call me mom.”

They go out to celebrate Taehyung's first day over that night, all of the children coming along
for a big family dinner. In the car, Jeongguk rides shotgun and Taehyung rides in the back at
the kids' insistence, Jihoon and Sohee making him help them fill out their puzzle book.

It's chaos at the restaurant, the kids bickering over what crayons to use and Jungwoo tossing
his nasty baby formula everywhere. If Taehyung is bothered, he doesn't show it, talking to the
older two in between bites of his stew. Jeongguk almost wants to complain that they're
monopolizing his attention, but he doesn't, because it's kind of cute.

When they get back, the kids are so tired they go brush their teeth without protest, nothing
short of a miracle. Sooyoung brews some tea that he and Taehyung drink as she puts the little
ones to bed with a bedtime story. When she returns, she has a grateful smile on her face.

“Thank you for all the help today, boys. The kids had a great time.”

Jeongguk motions to Taehyung. “Thank him. I don't think they're ever letting him leave.”

Taehyung laughs, face pink, glasses fogged by the tea. “It's my pleasure.”

Sooyoung announces she's going to bed, reminding Jeongguk to keep the TV down if they're
watching later. When she leaves, Taehyung and Jeongguk exchange a look. Jeongguk can't be
sure of what Taehyung is thinking, but there's only one thought in his head:
Finally alone.

After they finish their tea, they head up to Jeongguk's bedroom. Jeongguk walks straight to
the couch, sitting over a pizza sauce stain he tried and failed to remove when he first moved
in.

Nearly everything he owned in Seoul was moved to his room, save for the kitchen furniture.
He might not have an apartment's entire square footage to take over anymore, but at least his
living arrangements don't look so sparse anymore. The couch is against the wall, his full
mattress on a nicer bed frame, and the huge desk is tucked in the corner. It's a tight fit, but
that makes it almost cozy.

“I love your family,” Taehyung says as he rounds the room, taking everything in. “They're so
sweet.”

“You're sweet,” Jeongguk smiles, stroking the armrest idly. “You're really good with children.
And parents.”

Taehyung chuckles, turning toward Jeongguk's dresser. He slides a hand across the smooth
top as he walks past it, no dirty clothes or empty noodle cups in sight. “This still feels like
your old apartment,” he says. “Only more compact. And neater.”

Jeongguk snorts. “Cleaner, you mean.”

“Sure, cleaner, but also more organized. You're actually way tidier than me. My stuff's always
everywhere.”

Taehyung stops by the desk, Jeongguk's gaming desktop and double monitors powered off
and dark. It's the same setup he's always had, only transferred to this room. Leaning in,
Taehyung brushes a finger over the keyboard.

“Do you still play Overwatch?”

Jeongguk shuffles on the seat, scratching his nose. “Not as much. Maybe for about an hour
every couple of days.”

“Really?”

He nods, leaning back and folding arms across his chest.

Taehyung hums, pulling out the gaming chair and running a hand over the red leather.
Jeongguk watches him do it, staring at the golden rings and jewels around his fingers. It's
weird seeing Taehyung touch his stuff like it's somehow familiar to him, like he might even
miss it.

“So, what made you stop?” Taehyung asks. “It must've been hard to make yourself quit when
you did it so much.”

It was extremely hard, as difficult as Jeongguk imagines quitting drugs or cigarettes must be.
The first few days he went without it were the worst, Jeongguk so irritable that even his
siblings didn't want to be around him.

But that was the very first rule Dr. Bang gave him when he started seeing him: stay away
from Overwatch. And so he did.

Without day-long blocks to dedicate to gaming, the urge to play gradually became easier to
handle. The longer he went without it, the more distance from it he gained. If playing usually
felt like the only way to enjoy life, as time went on it became an activity like all others, no
more rewarding than watching cartoons with Jihoon or helping Sohee with her homework.

Overwatch was a much-needed distraction when he didn't want to think, but now he struggles
to remember what thoughts were so overwhelming that he couldn't just ignore them.

“Let's just say I'm working on minimizing my escapist tendencies,” he parrots his therapist,
lips tugging in a self-conscious smile. “I've been trying to replace them with healthier habits.”

Taehyung spins around, an eyebrow raising curiously. He stops before Jeongguk and mimics
his pose, arms crossed over his chest. “Like what?”

“Exercise. Journaling.”

“Journaling?”

He nods. Taehyung looks even more curious.

“Can I see it?”

“My journal? Hell no. It's private.”

“I don't mean can I read it. Just see it. I want to know what it looks like.”

Taehyung explains it like it's obvious, but Jeongguk can't help but laugh under his breath.
“Why? So you can steal it while I sleep and read all of my deepest, darkest thoughts?”

Taehyung frowns, brows furrowing. He nudges Jeongguk's foot. “I'd never read your journal
without your permission, baby,” he mumbles. “I would never do that.”

Jeongguk gets a strange feeling, a tingle in his stomach, an urge that appears out of nowhere
as he stares at Taehyung's face. He wants to drag him closer and completely unravel him,
press him down and make him call him baby again and again until he's crying it out. The idea
overwhelms all other coherent thought in his brain until it's a vivid picture. A vivid picture of
owning Taehyung, binding him to his side.

He must be fucking crazy. Absolutely psychotic. Definitely something to bring up to Dr.

Bang.

A hand lands on his head, Taehyung combing fingers through his hair and pushing it back
from his forehead with a wide palm. “What are you thinking, Guk? Look so serious. You
don't believe me?”
“I do,” Jeongguk says quickly. “I believe you.”

He believes him. About wanting to help, about liking him, about wanting to take care of him.
Thinking back to how he yelled at Taehyung when he discovered he knew his secret, he only
feels regret. It all sounds so wrong now, that he could've ever believed this person was
anything but kind and compassionate. It seems so clear now. Why didn't he see it before?

“Shit. I'm so fucking stupid,” he chuckles. Curling fingers behind Taehyung's free hand, he
tugs him closer so he can hug him around the waist. “I'm dumb, I'm sorry for saying that.”

“Ah, none of that. That's what we're not doing anymore,” the younger clicks his tongue,
wiggling a bent finger into Jeongguk's cheek. “Look at me.”

Jeongguk does. Taehyung is looking down at him with a raised eyebrow, locks of bleached
hair framing both sides of his face. His double eyelid on the right side is more pronounced
again, emphasized by the angle. Jeongguk is surprised he's never noticed it before, and
realizes it's probably because he was never truly looking.

For the whole time he and Taehyung have known each other, his attention has been turned
inward. At his failings, his shortcomings, the thoughts that caused him the most grief.

“You always beat yourself up over nothing...” Taehyung murmurs, a hand running to the back
of his head. He pulls him forward until Jeongguk's nose is tucked against his tummy, head
cradled. “Don't be mad at yourself, okay? You're only human, baby.”

“God, I love it when you call me that,” he admits, squeezing Taehyung around the hips. “Say
it again.”

“Baby... Baby.” Jeongguk can hear the smile in Taehyung's voice, feels goosebumps flee over
his arms as long fingers card through his hair. “My handsome baby.”

Jeongguk basks in the touch for a second, breathing in the faint scent on Taehyung's shirt.
The other starts it, fingers tracing the shell of his ear in a way that has gotta be meant to stir
heat in his belly. And it does.

Jeongguk shivers, sitting up straighter and tightening his arms around Taehyung's hips, hands
dropping lower. Taehyung takes a deep breath, sternum filling out under his cheek, and cups
the nape of Jeongguk's neck in a warm palm as Jeongguk starts mouthing at his shirt, kissing
him through it.

This is what he wants, to get closer to Taehyung and feel his skin on his again. He pushes
hands beneath the other's shirt to do just that, trailing fingers up his sides all the way to his
nipples.

Taehyung sighs as he runs the pads of his fingers over the soft peaks, around and across, and
something like pride shoots through Jeongguk when they pebble under the touch.

“God, you're so fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, pinching them between his fingers and smiling
when the other keens. “Say it.”
Taehyung is breathless. “Say what?”

“Call me baby,” he tells him, pinching again. It's probably a little mean but Taehyung moans
and rocks his hips so he repeats it a third time. “Come on, I'm waiting.”

“Baby,” Taehyung exhales, the word rushing from his lungs. He pushes forward and climbs
onto the couch, giving Jeongguk a sudden lapful of his weight.

Thick thighs spread across his lap, Jeongguk inhales deeply as the younger presses closer and
wraps arms around his neck. He traces his hands down Taehyung's sides and grips his hips,
yanking him closer. Taehyung shifts, ass resting over his crotch.

“You're beautiful,” Jeongguk murmurs, skimming his nose over Taehyung's neck, closing lips
around his earlobe. The noise Taehyung makes goes straight to his cock, length pulsing inside
his jeans. He wants Taehyung to feel it. “Remember that time we swam in a pool? I was so
turned on, kept trying to hide my boner from you.”

“Ah...” Taehyung sounds airy, already breathing heavy, and that proud feeling returns,
settling deep in Jeongguk's chest. “Is the door locked?”

“Yes.”

“You locked it?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk gives his hips a squeeze. “Trapped you in here with me.”

“Shit...” Taehyung rarely curses, so that has his smile curling further. “Are we really doing
this?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” Taehyung asks, wide ass dragging over his groin as he rolls his hips. “Are you
fucking me?”

God, yes, and Jeongguk has never wanted anything more. He drops both hands to Taehyung's
slacks, fingers splaying over the fabric, taut over his thighs.

But it isn't just him who wants this desperately—no, he can sense the arousal rolling off
Taehyung in waves, sees the bulge of his cock where it's pressed against his fly, fuller than it
had been a minute ago. Kneading his inner thighs, Jeongguk watches Taehyung's hips rock up
into nothing, like he's powerless in the face of how Jeongguk makes him feel.

“You want it bad, don't you?” he teases, hands smoothing up and down Taehyung's spread
thighs, thumbs digging into the inner seams of his pants. When he reaches the part that's
warm with body heat, he veers off course and hooks fingers into his belt loops, pulling. “Say
it, Tae.”

“Baby,” Taehyung chokes, shivering. “I do. I want you so bad.”

Jeongguk takes a deep breath. It's hot, hearing it, even if he doesn't necessarily need
confirmation to know that's true. It's so obvious Taehyung does, obvious in how his breath
hitches when he slides thumbs over the spot where his belly bulges above his waistband, in
how he leans closer to brush lips over Jeongguk's temple and shudders, letting out a quiet
breath.

Taehyung wants him, has always wanted him, ever since he saw him.

Jeongguk cranes his neck back to look up at him, licking dry lips. “You're my baby, too.”

Taehyung's eyebrows raise, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I am?”

“Obviously.”

“Not obvious. Call me that sometimes.”

Jeongguk thinks he already knows the answer to the next question, but he asks it anyway, just
to hear him say it.

“You wouldn't mind it?”

The other huffs, cupping Jeongguk's chin and tilting his face up. “Not at all. Obviously.”

Jeongguk smiles, dropping his head to press into those fingers. “Good. Now get on the bed.”

Taehyung does, quickly, unfolding from his lap and slinking over to the mattress. Jeongguk
plays some music on his phone to drown them out as he gets him on his back, stripping him
leisurely. Taehyung shivers under his lips when he kisses his jaw, mouths down his neck to
suck on his nipples as he pulls down his pants and underwear. Once he's fully bare beneath
him, Jeongguk has him turn around and climb on all fours, pert ass facing him.

“Bend over,” he adds, fully clothed on his knees behind him.

Taehyung obeys, knows to drop his face on the mattress and arch his back to lift himself
higher. Jeongguk's eyes land on his plump, round, and fucking perfect ass, flared out and
tapering into shapely thighs. Pressing a hand over his tailbone, he stretches down a thumb
and circles it over his hole, feeling it twitch under the touch.

The first time they had sex, Jeongguk was too nervous and shy to fully act on his fantasies,
every move hesitant and over-calculated. Now, there are no more nerves, nothing to hold him
back from whispering filth as Taehyung shudders and presents himself to him, wriggling his
hips against the pad of his thumb like he's ready to be fucked.

“I'm so hard for you, baby,” Jeongguk murmurs, undoing his fly and reaching into his pants
to caress himself through his boxers. That right there, watching confident Taehyung pant and
wait helplessly for him to give him something, anything, makes him feel invincible. “Beg,”
he tells him. “Beg for my cock.”

“Please, Guk,” Taehyung moans, fisting the sheets as Jeongguk's thumbnail pokes into his
asshole. “Please, ah— please fuck me.”
Jeongguk can't contain the pleased smile that pulls at his lips, drops his hand aside to lean
over and wrap an arm around Taehyung's hips, tugging his thighs back against his face. He
fits his mouth around his rim and licks him out, deciding to get him off this way since there
are no condoms around.

Taehyung moans and shudders under his arm, wiggling so much as he's held back that he gets
spit everywhere. Jeongguk slaps a hand over his ass, grabbing a handful of flesh, and
Taehyung goes still, gasping into the sheets. As a reward, Jeongguk pushes his tongue inside
him and reaches between his parted thighs to fondle Taehyung's cock and balls, stroking them
in time with pistons of his tongue.

When he comes, Taehyung's deep voice pitches higher and he shudders like a leaf, spurting
heat all over Jeongguk's hand. He then falls boneless and twitchy on his belly, knees spread
wide.

Jeongguk is still painfully hard, but feels compelled to get up and grab some tissues to wipe
him up. Taehyung stops him with a hand around the wrist, easing him onto his back with a
hand on the chest.

Jeongguk obeys this time, letting Taehyung pluck away the tissues and slide over his lap, still
clad in denim.

“You've got a dominant streak in you, Gukie,” Taehyung breathlessly determines, spit-slick
asshole settling over Jeongguk's erection through the open fly. He leans forward tiredly,
hands on Jeongguk's chest, and starts rocking his hips back and forth. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

Jeongguk groans, head dropping back. He doesn't quite know what the other means, but has
no chance to voice a question with him grinding onto his cock like that, damp heat sliding
over his length. Taehyung knows exactly what he's doing, and when the flared head of
Jeongguk's cock catches on the dip of his asshole, his breath catches and he smiles, cat-like
and pleased.

Grabbing onto Taehyung's thighs, Jeongguk grinds up into that heat and bites his lip to
suppress any noises, cock fit snug between his ass cheeks. He ruts into the inviting crease
until the dam bursts and he comes with a cry.

A wet patch grows over the front of his boxers. It sticks to Taehyung's skin when he moves
off.

“Made you come in your pants,” Taehyung grins coyly.

And it wasn't even pathetic, Jeongguk thinks, contented.

The next morning, Jeongguk's phone rings bright and early, before his alarm.

Jeongguk is still in bed, sheets twisted around his ankles. Taehyung is asleep beside him, eyes
shut and an arm around his bare waist, air mattress forgotten on the floor.

Jeongguk stretches over him to grab the phone on the nightstand. The number is already
saved.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Jeon Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?”

“Just wanted to confirm your appointment tomorrow at 11 a.m. with Dr. Bang Sihyuk.”

“Ah, actually—” Shit. He'd completely forgotten. “I'm gonna have to cancel my appointment.
Sorry, I should've called earlier.”

“In that case, I'll transfer you to Dr. Bang. Just a moment.”

“Oh, um, you don't have to. I just need to move the date,” he explains quickly, glancing down
at Taehyung, whose eyes are now open and blinking sluggishly.

“Dr. Bang requests that all patients talk to him before cancelling or pushing back
appointments. Please hold.”

Jeongguk suppresses a groan, closing his eyes as the receptionist transfers the call. He can
feel Taehyung's gaze on him as he waits, but pretends that he doesn't.

“Hello? Jeongguk?”

“Hi. Yeah. It's me.”

“You need to cancel tomorrow's session?”

“Um, yeah. There's nothing wrong, I just have a friend who's in town so I can't take an hour
off my day.”

“A friend?” Dr. Bang asks, sounding like he already knows who.

Jeongguk risks a glance at Taehyung, who's now openly watching, eyebrows raised curiously.
'Appointment?' he mouths. Jeongguk glances away, trying to appear less flustered than he
feels.

“Um...Yeah.”

“Would he like to come? I would like to meet him.”

“Meet him?” Jeongguk blurts, then squeezes his eyes shut when he realizes he probably
shouldn't have said that out loud. He really didn't want to explain this to Taehyung, that he's
seeing someone for his issues. It simply isn't sexy, might even make him seem weak.

Taehyung's already seen him at his worst—Jeongguk doesn't want him to think of him as
weak anymore.

The bed shifts beside him, a hand landing on his lap. Jeongguk opens his eyes to find
Taehyung smiling at him, blue hair falling over his eyelashes.

“Who is that? Can I talk to them?”

Jeongguk is at a loss for words, his will tenuous in the face of Taehyung's curiosity and
interest. When Taehyung stares at him like that, eyes big and brown, he could get Jeongguk
to do virtually anything.

“Put him on, Jeongguk.”

And so against his better judgment, Jeongguk hands Taehyung the phone. Taehyung lays
back on the bed and presses it over an ear.

“Hello?”

Jeongguk can't make out what's being said on the other end of the line, but Taehyung only
responds with a sequence of yeses, eyes firmly on the ceiling. When he hands back the phone
not a minute later, Jeongguk presses it over his ear but the call is already disconnected.

Tossing the device away, he glances at the other as he gets comfortable on his side of the
mattress. “So? What did he say?”

“You're still on for your appointment tomorrow,” Taehyung yawns, scooting closer. “And he
said not to be late this time.”

“...Anything else?”

“Oh, and I'm coming with you.”

“What?” Jeongguk gulps. “Really?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

Is it? He considers it for a second, an irrational part of him concerned that his therapist might
reveal something untoward about him. But logically, he knows that won't happen—patient
confidentiality and all that. Besides, he hasn't told Dr. Bang anything that Taehyung doesn't
already know—didn't already witness.

“I guess that's fine, it's just...” he trails off, furrowing his brows. “I just wonder why he wants
to meet you.”
“Guess we'll find out soon enough,” Taehyung murmurs. He kisses Jeongguk on the cheek
and Jeongguk sighs, closing his eyes. They're silent for a moment, Jeongguk breathing slowly
and Taehyung with his chest pressed against his arm. Then Taehyung reaches for his hand,
curling long fingers around it. “If you don't want me to come, no matter how far we've
gotten, just say the word.”

Jeongguk gives his hand a squeeze.

“Okay. Thank you.”

It's still too early to be up, virtually still last night, but Jeongguk can't fall back asleep. Not
with Taehyung's nose tucked against his ear, breath right next to his nape. Taehyung shifts
closer and he's made aware of the morning wood he's probably been sporting this whole time.
Oh, the joys of spooning.

Condoms, he thinks. He needs to get his hands on some.

“Let's go to the convenience store,” Jeongguk proposes. “We could grab snacks and condoms
before the kids wake up.”

Taehyung props his head up. “Like, right now?”

“Yes,” Jeongguk tells him, slipping out of bed and pulling him along by the hand.

They wash up before heading out, tiptoeing down the hall past the closed doors of the kids'
rooms. It's too early even for the baby.

Once they're outside, Jeongguk locks up and slips the keys into his sweats before turning to
look at the sky. It's sunrise, pink and purple colors blooming over the blue. It would've been a
really nice morning to go running.

When he turns to face his former neighbor, Jeongguk finds him smiling, eyes twinkling under
the blooming light.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Taehyung grins, holding out a hand.

It's quiet out on the street, the area much more family-friendly and residential than their old
corner of Seoul. They walk down the sidewalk to the 24-hour mart down the block, only one
car passing them along the way. There's companionable silence between them, and Jeongguk
feels Taehyung looking at him a few times.

At the store, they choose snacks and drinks to cover all of Taehyung's stay, filling their basket
until it's overflowing with goodies. Taehyung then leads the way to an inner aisle, walking
straight to the shelf holding condoms and lube. He picks out a familiar purple box and turns
to face Jeongguk with a wide grin. Jeongguk grabs a second box, tucking it under an arm
with a joke about them needing more than just one.
They're laughing as they head to the register, Jeongguk slipping the basket onto the counter.
When the cashier steps from behind the display of fried foods, his eyes connect with
Jeongguk's.

“Jeon Jeongguk?”

Shit. He knows him.

That's Kim Yugyeom, Jeongguk's high school classmate and former friend. They were on the
baseball team together, Yugyeom their star catcher. Once upon a time, they walked home
together nearly every day after cram school, their houses in the same general direction.
Jeongguk hasn't heard from him since he moved to Seoul.

“Hey,” he greets, trying to smile. “It's been a while.”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom agrees, lowering his eyes and shuffling on his feet. He grabs the bag at the
top of their stack and starts scanning items.

It's obvious that he is uncomfortable, and that makes Jeongguk's stomach twist anxiously. He
glances at Taehyung, who's eyeing him with brows slightly furrowed, probably recognizing
this. Jeongguk swallows and looks away, reminding himself to breathe. Setting the condom
boxes on the counter, he reaches for his wallet.

“So, um… How have you been?” he asks.

Yugyeom's hand pauses on a bag of shrimp chips before he resumes the task. “...I'm okay,” he
says after a second. “Are you here to visit family?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I just moved back home. My, um, my dad passed away recently,
so I've been helping my stepmom around the house.”

Yugyeom's hands still again, and this time Jeongguk manages to work up the nerve to glance
at his face. The guy is frowning apologetically. “I'm sorry for your loss. I didn't hear.”

“Yeah, um. It's okay. Thanks.” Jeongguk clutches his wallet tightly, hands getting a bit
clammy. When his old classmate reaches for the condom boxes, he reminds himself that
there's nothing to feel ashamed about. He's doing nothing wrong.

“Since you're back home, we should, ah, we should grab a drink sometime,” Yugyeom
suggests, sounding unsure. When Jeongguk looks up again, he seems flustered. “—I mean, if
you want to. If you aren't too busy.”

“I'm not,” Jeongguk blurts. Loosening his grip on the wallet, he wipes his sweaty hand before
reaching for his card. “I'm free.”

“Great,” Yugyeom grins. He looks relieved somehow, though still a little bashful. “Are you
still on the same number?”

“Yeah.”
“Cool. I'll text sometime, then.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Thanks? Jeongguk feels dumb for having said that, but Yugyeom's smile widens. He hands
over bags with all their stuff, slipping the receipt inside and shooting Taehyung a smile when
he helps Jeongguk collect them.

“See you soon!” the guy calls out as they leave.

Once they're back on the street, Jeongguk lets out the long breath he's been holding and
glances at Taehyung, who's watching him with a small smile.

“Old buddy?”

Jeongguk nods.

“That's nice. He seemed happy to see you.”

“Did he? I don't know. He looked a bit uncomfortable.”

“I think he was embarrassed,” Taehyung says. Jeongguk raises a questioning eyebrow,

prompting him to continue, “you know, 'cause we caught him at work and all. He must know
you went to SNU, so maybe he thinks you'd judge him for working at 7-Eleven.”

Jeongguk snorts, such a thought having never crossed his mind.

But when he thinks about it… It isn't infeasible.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

How odd, Jeongguk thinks. How strange to realize you aren't the only one with insecurities.
Kim Yugyeom had always seemed like such a confident guy. And he was popular, too. But no
one's immune to overthinking, he supposes.

They walk back to the house, Jeongguk mulling this over. He feels Taehyung staring at the
side of his face, so when he speaks, he already expects it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When did you start doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Going out without trouble?”

Something in Jeongguk's stomach shakes—pride mixed with fear. “I wouldn't say that's the
case yet,” he admits sheepishly. “I'm still in the danger zone.”

“Danger zone?”

“Yeah. It's like I'm McCree right now, picking off every enemy, but one meeting with
Widowmaker and I'm done for.”

The analogy spills from his lips before he's given any thought to saying it aloud. With anyone
else, he'd probably feel embarrassed, but right now, he doesn't feel embarrassment. This is
just Taehyung, who looks charmingly confused but still interested. Jeongguk laughs under his
breath.

“—What I'm saying is that it's very hard. I'm still vulnerable. There's a lot working against
me.”

Taehyung hums, the bags he's carrying switching hands. He drops his head on Jeongguk's
shoulder and circles an arm around his waist.

“Don't worry, baby,” he says. “You'll crush it. You'll be the Faker of your life.”

Jeon Jeongguk, top pro gamer of Life 2.0.

The thought has a laugh bubbling from his chest.

The next morning, Jeongguk wakes bright and early, detangling himself from beneath
Taehyung's loose limbs to climb out of bed.

He can hear the distant echo of voices in the kitchen, his mom probably feeding the children
breakfast. Taehyung is dead to the world, snoozing on his stomach with his mouth wide open.
Jeongguk tiptoes around the room, putting on his dry-fit shirt and airiest shorts.

Fully dressed, he steps out and shuts the door quietly.

“Morning, kiddo,” Sooyoung greets when she spots him descending the stairs.

Jihoon drops his spoon and runs to him from the table, latching onto his leg.

“Morning. Mom, Taehyung's still asleep in my room, so don't let anyone open the door,”
Jeongguk says, pushing away his brother's sticky fingers as he sits to put on some shoes.
“You hear that, Hoon? Don't go into my room.”
“Is blue-hyung in there?”

Jeongguk's lips twitch as he ties his laces. “Yes. So don't disturb him, okay?”

Jihoon runs off to the kitchen, retaking his seat and returning to the food. Jeongguk doesn't
trust him to listen, so he figures he'd better get going soon so he can be back before the
children get too bored.

Straightening, he pulls the front door open.

“I'm off.”

“See you later.”

He steps outside.

The morning air is warm with summer but still crisp, filling his lungs as he takes his usual
jogging route toward the shoreline.

There, he runs down trails until his shirt is drenched in sweat, his legs shaking with the effort.
He's probably pushing himself too hard but it feels good to release pent-up energy this way,
to know he's been productive so early in the day.

It feels like an accomplishment.

When he returns an hour later, it's to find Taehyung at the dining table surrounded by his
siblings, Jihoon on his lap and Sohee standing by his chair, the three of them using crayons
on a page of their coloring book.

Taehyung looks up when Jeongguk steps in, a smile breaking across his lips.

Jeongguk returns the grin.

After lunch, he and Taehyung head out to meet with Dr. Bang, taking the train into the city.
The office is on the 18th floor of a tall building downtown, a dressed-up room among
countless other offices.

When they arrive, Jeongguk gives his name at the reception and they sit and wait to be called.
Taehyung pulls out his phone and Jeongguk leans against his shoulder, watching. He expects
Taehyung to angle the phone away, but the other doesn't seem to mind him looking, so
Jeongguk watches him reply to texts and update friends on his whereabouts.
Jimin, fiery leather bestie Jeongguk remembers well, asks if Taehyung's been 'smooching bae
a lot.' Jeongguk grins and laughs low when Taehyung replies with a 'ofc <3.'

A while later, the door to Dr. Bang Sihyuk's office opens and out comes the man himself,
wearing his usual black-turtleneck-gray-coat ensemble. He pushes round glasses up a large
nose and assesses Jeongguk and Taehyung through small, calculating eyes.

Jeongguk sits up straighter.

“Hello, Jeongguk,” Dr. Bang says in his usual pleasant, calm tone. “And you must be...”

“Taehyung,” Taehyung says, standing up and bowing at the small man. “Hello. We spoke on
the phone. Thanks for everything you've done for Jeongguk.”

The therapist laughs, shaking his head. He waves at Taehyung to follow him, but when
Jeongguk stands to go with them, he holds up a hand. “—I'd only like to talk to Taehyung
today, if that's alright.” When Jeongguk's eyes widen, he adds, “Just to have a conversation.”

Jeongguk swallows, eyes landing on Taehyung, who's smiling expectantly.

It looks like Taehyung's eager to talk to Bang, which he does not get at all. He'd be terrified if
he were in that position. But then again, they probably won't be talking about Taehyung in
there.

“What do you say?” Bang asks.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, reminding himself that his therapist is ethically bound to
secrecy. And he gets a pass today, won't have to talk about himself. Not a bad deal.

“Alright. Sure.”

Dr. Bang smiles and heads back into his office. Taehyung lingers for a moment, glancing
back at him, and only follows the therapist when Jeongguk gives him a nod and an
encouraging smile.

When the door shuts behind them, Jeongguk sags in his chair, exhaling.

Shit. What now?

For the next 45 minutes, he leafs through four old magazines and plays several rounds of
Fruit Ninja on his phone. His therapy sessions never feel this long when he's in there talking.
He wonders what it feels like for Taehyung. Wonders what the hell they're talking about
behind that door.

Then, finally, the door reopens. Taehyung steps out first, turning around and bowing with a
few quiet parting words. Bang is right there behind him, waving at Jeongguk before pulling
the door shut.

Taehyung walks back to the waiting room, a dazed look in his eyes.
“You okay?” Jeongguk asks.

Taehyung nods, pushing a hand through his hair. He sits and takes Jeongguk's hand,
immediately linking their fingers.

“He says to schedule your next appointment before leaving,” Taehyung says distantly, staring
off into space somewhere over the receptionist.

Jeongguk takes a long look at him before standing up and doing just that. He schedules the
next appointment for a week from now, when Taehyung will already be back home. Dr. Bang
will probably tell him about his meeting with Taehyung next time they meet.

Once they're outside, Taehyung stops in his tracks, as if he just changed his mind about
leaving. He grabs Jeongguk by the hand, pulling him toward the side of the office building.

Before Jeongguk can react, Taehyung rounds on him, tugging him into a sudden hug, arms
wrapped around his neck.

Jeongguk goes very still.

“...Is everything alright?” he asks.

The younger keeps his face tucked into his arm, just beside Jeongguk's face. “Yeah,” he
sniffles. “Let's just stay like this for a minute.”

Jeongguk stops breathing, his arm going around Taehyung's waist. “Okay,” he tentatively
agrees, but just because he knows that things can get overwhelming, recognizes that the other
needs a moment. He takes a step back so they're not blocking the sidewalk. “Did he say
anything bad?”

“No, he didn't. We didn't even talk about you.” Jeongguk raises his eyebrows, and Taehyung
sniffles again. “—I mean, I guess we did? But indirectly, I don't know. It was mostly just me
talking.”

Not unlike his own sessions then. And Bang talks to his stepmom, too, which she says is so
he can gauge his progress. Whatever the end goal there may be.

“So why are you…?” he trails off, but his meaning is clear. Crying.

“It's just a lot. I just. I love you.” Jeongguk's heart sinks, burning inside his chest cavity
before vanishing somewhere around his legs. Taehyung's hands grab at the back of his shirt
and pull. “Please believe me. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you wouldn't, but
please do. I love you.”

Jeongguk stands there, burning on his feet. His throat is tight, and he doesn't know what to
say.

“He said that this would be hard for you and I probably shouldn't say it, but I'll say it
anyway,” Taehyung continues, squeezing his shirt so hard Jeongguk can feel the press of his
knuckles. “He said you have to love yourself to believe that anyone could love you and so I
have to wait, but I want you to know now that you're everything to me.”

Taehyung peels away, staring at Jeongguk with swimming eyes, pressing both hands over his
cheeks. Those eyes stare at him and Jeongguk is shivering.

“Tae…"

“Don't say it back,” Taehyung blurts, Adam's apple bobbing. “Don't say it, okay? Not yet.
Just know that I do.”

Jeongguk's chest is still aflame, burning worse than that time when he ate nine cups of
noodles. There are a dozen responses racing through his head, but it's like his tongue has been
glued to the floor of his mouth, his lips sealed shut.

If he speaks, the illusion of the dream will shatter and he'll wake up in an apartment in Seoul,
heaps of clothing everywhere. All of this will have been a hallucination (he's enchanted,
bewitched, back inside unit 9A on Christmas Eve), or perhaps he and the blue-haired
neighbor will never have met at all (he's behind a door, peering through a hole, far removed
and voyeuristic).

But right then, everything is suspended. Time, law, doubt, and distance.

He is outside. The sun is shining. Taehyung drags a thumb across his cheek, collecting some
moisture. All of his thoughts melt away, everything apart from the present moment abolished.
He's here, he isn't alone, and there's nothing to fear.

Jeongguk closes his eyes and takes Taehyung's hand, kissing a blue gem on his ring.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers. “Please wait for me.”

[+181 -23] The moment man stares into the abyss, man finds his character. And that's what
keeps him out of the abyss.

Jeongguk comes across that movie quote slash random piece of internet wisdom on the
NEET forum the next time he logs in. The post has hundreds of replies:

[+29 -12] But what if you have no character to find? What if you're empty and unlovable?

[+15 -1] i haven't left my home in 7 years... i'm going to die alone.

[+38 -0] I don't want to stare into the abyss (>_<)

 [+20 -7] You really think it's that easy? Fool ㅋㅋㅋ

It's like reading thoughts dissected right out of his brain, his biggest fears written out by users
who know exactly what it's like.

In truth, he knows that being part of that forum isn't good for him. Whenever he allows
himself to wallow in those thoughts, he can feel something start to crawl up his throat, a scaly
fist ready to choke him and drag him down.

You really think it's that easy? Fool.

But he can't let that happen. Can't sabotage himself when he's finally earned his shot at a
fresh start. He needs to stay out of his comfort zone, and the NEET forum has been his
comfort zone for far too long.

So he upvotes the original post before moving onto the entire reason why he logged into the
forum in the first place.

> Are you sure you want to deactivate your account?

> This action is irreversible.

[...]

<Yes, deactivate>

Because Jeongguk has seen the abyss, and he's not going back there, no matter what.

Chapter End Notes

.
I started writing this in December 2019, and it's crazy to look around and see how much
the world has changed. It's never a good time to deal with mental health issues, but 2020
posed some unique challenges. Wherever you are, I hope you're safe and healthy.

Thank you for reading this fic. It's fiction but it's also not, and I just hope it reaches and
comforts anyone who feels they need it. We see you and we love you, okay?

Alrighty. Thank you to everyone who supported me this year with comments and kudos
and kind messages. You made a hard thing to write about easy. I had so much fun.

See you next time.

> playlist
> moodboard
> twitter
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