Some people aren’t meant to be friends, lingering on the edge of each other as nothing more than acquaintances. This is how Jungkook feels about Hoseok. They’re not enemies; he doesn’t dislike the older man in any way, in fact, they share the same circle of friends and are generally invited to the same functions. They have spent more than their fair share of time together, so the fact that they’re not closer is somewhat disconcerting. It can’t be helped; it seems there’s just a general mutual discomfort whenever they are around each other.

“You okay?” Taehyung’s voice pulls Jungkook from his thoughts.

“Mmm,” he hums a response.

“How was your time with Namjoon hyung, did it help you remember anything?” Taehyung looks hopeful, and Jungkook contemplates whether to answer the question truthfully or not.

“Nothing about our past, but I remembered something unique to you.” He keeps his voice steady, not wanting the betray the excitement that still bubbles within him at the memory of Taehyung’s gaze.

Taehyung turns, eyes wide in what Jungkook can only assume is surprise.

“About me? You remember me?” Taehyung's voice is barely above a whisper.

“I remember your eyes. Nothing tangible or specific, just brief moments, fragments, you know; just things like the way they shine when you smile or the glint of mischief that twinkles in them at times. I, uhm,” Jungkook wishes he hadn’t opened his mouth because now he needs to say everything. “I remember sadness too, when the sparkle disappears. I wish I didn’t have that memory because a part of me knows I’m the cause.”

There’s a stilled silence, a heaviness in the air, and Jungkook’s finding it hard to breathe. He wonders how many times he made Taehyung cry, how many times he single-handedly dimmed the light in the man’s eyes.

“Not always,” Taehyung answers, holding his head down, and Jungkook releases the breath he’s been holding. “You didn’t always make me cry, Jungkook, in fact, we laughed a lot. We were happy more than we were sad.”

They sit quietly at the breakfast table, each trying to avoid the other’s gaze. Much to Jungkook’s surprise, neither of them makes a move to leave or escape. The moment feels charged like a live wire, and there’s a shift, a change, albeit a subtle one. Something’s different. Maybe it’s because Taehyung looks soft, so soft sitting across from him at the table, the sun's rays peeking in from the window casting a spotlight on the boy, crowning him in a halo of light. Jungkook swallows hard around the lump in his throat, stunned by Taehyung’s beauty.

“I’m glad,” he finally gets words to pass through his lips. “I hate thinking that I’m the cause of all your unhappiness.” He his lips and leans forward. The urge to grab Taehyung’s hand is great, almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t do it. “I want to remember, Taehyung. I want to fill all these empty gaps in my life, but mostly I just want to remember you, not just your smile, but your taste and your smell and the way we were together. I want all of it back. Every time I look at you I feel like I’ve been robbed—l just…I just want it back.” He slouches back in his seat.

He doesn’t have the right to feel like this, Jungkook thinks silently to himself as he sits back, continuing to survey Taehyung. He, from what he's been learning, is the proximate cause of this distance, of them no longer being together.

A stray tear travels down Taehyung’s face, and Jungkook notices it the moment it appears, he’s so intently staring at the older boy. This time when he leans forward, bending over the table until he’s so close he can feel Taehyung’s ragged breath hitting his skin, creating goose bumps, he does touch.

“I miss you so much,” Taehyung cries. “It hurts, and it because you don’t deserve it, you don’t. It’s been a year, and I’m not over you. I should be, but I’m not. Every day since the day you walked out, Jungkook, I’ve missed you, and I hate myself for it; which is stupid, because I should hate you instead—but I don’t. I just miss you.”

Silk, it’s what Taehyung’s skin feels like under the tips of his fingers, and Jungkook marvels at the sensation. Words aren’t forthcoming, and even if he could form sentences, he’s not sure how to respond. Instead, he continues Taehyung’s skin and wiping Taehyung’s tears and drowning in Taehyung’s beauty.

It happens unconsciously, naturally, without any thought or premeditation, him moving closer and Taehyung tilting his head upward at just the right angle, lips trembling and tear stained lashes fluttering shut. Home, home is what Taehyung’s mouth feels like against his, warm and soft and welcoming. He’s home, and as Taehyung opens up, allowing his tongue entrance into the wet domain, Jungkook wonders again, and not for the last time, why he ever left.

When they pull apart, Jungkook expects tension. He expects awkwardness, for Taehyung to look at him with accusing eyes. None of those things happen. They stay close, not touching or talking until Taehyung breaks the silence.

“Please remember, Kookie, please. I need you to remember.” With those words, the older man gets up from the table, leaving