it isn't fear that curls in jeongguk's belly when his mom tells him the news, not quite. it's too dull for that, too heavy. it isn't until he's waving to her retreating back at the airport as she goes through TSA security that he realizes what it is.

 

dread.

 

but there isn't anything he can do now, there's no way to bring her back, stop her from getting on the plane. well, there is, but it involves trying to jump the security gate, being captured, probably having an invasive cavity search, then being thrown in jail. and while jeongguk really really doesn't want his mother to go back to korea – not alone, not without him to look out for her – he doubts she wants to spend their meager savings on bail.

 

so he doesn't jump the gate, doesn't chase his mother down and fireman carry her back to the bus stop. he just waves at her retreating form even when she's rounded the corner, grits his teeth against the sudden wave of panic that washes over him, threatening to rip him from shore and drown him in darkness, gasping for breath.

 

it takes entirely too long to get his legs working again, and its the sideways glances he's getting from other travelers that really spurs him into movement. even through his momentary crisis he recognizes it's not the best idea in the world to look out of place and weird in an airport with all the going on in the world, so he takes a deep breath, ribs aching as he fills his lungs to their max capacity, before heaving the Worlds Greatest Sigh and turning for the exit.

 

it's cold outside, temperatures nearing zero as the wind picks up and cuts through his winter jacket. jeongguk shivers, huddles further into the fur lined warmth of his hood, and starts the long and lonely walk to the bus stop.

 

there's no one else waiting so he stands alone, curled into himself for warmth as he kicks his shoes into the ground to keep the feeling in his toes. for a moment he considers putting in his headphones but then again it's not exactly worth risking losing his damn fingers to the cold when he could just keep them in his pockets and avoid amputation.

 

(and yeah, okay maybe he's exaggerating how cold it is outside but his chest hurts and it's like a black hole is growing where his intestines should be and it's the life out of him and he sort of wishes he could die from hypothermia so his brain would stop running through a laundry list of everything that could go wrong with her being back in korea.)

 

and his reaction is stupid, he knows it is, he knows his mom will be fine and she'll go take care of grandma for a bit then come back and make fun of him for being so worried, but he can't ing help it.

 

the bus comes and jeongguk gets on, shuddering at the sudden change in temperature as he swipes his fare card and shuffles into an empty seat. he leans his head against the window, ears tingling as they thaw, and after a moment grabs his phone from his pants pocket and unlocks it to send his mother a text.

 

be safe.

 

its not that joengguk is some sort of momma's boy or some bull. its not that he can't survive without her and needs her to hold his hand through life. but after a really ty divorce and moving across the world to get away from his father, he can't help but be protective of the woman who bore abuse and violence and pain beyond measure all to keep him safe. he helped her put the pieces back together, suture the open gaping wounds of her heart and soul, and knowing that he can't be there to protect her, to take care of her, to shelter her from the storm of life lest the torrential rains and winds strip her down to her bones is terrifying.

 

he tries to not let it affect him, he really does, but after a week in an empty apartment with nothing but his school work and ty youtube videos and reality tv to welcome him home it really starts to wear on him. he sleeps less, eats less, buries himself in his blankets when work and school don't drag him from their place, his imagination running rampant with everything and anything that could go wrong while she's away.

 

jeongguk takes more hours at his ty minimum wage part time job, works himself ragged in his dance classes, pushes himself so hard that it's all he can do to finish his homework and papers before passing out into a dreamless sleep every night.

 

his friends worry and fret over him but he just tells them he's alright, and he knows they can see through the lie, but what is he supposed to say? that he misses his mommy and cried himself to sleep three times now worrying about whether or not she's safe? so no, he doesn't tell them what's up and most of them just let him wallow, but jimin won't stop glancing at him in class and trying to get him to hang out after work because of all the people in the world, jimin knows that jeongguk really is not in any way okay right now. twelve years of friendship has made jimin practically telepathic when it comes to jeongguk's well being and he knows enough about his life in korea to know if its enough to bother him this much it's probably Serious Business, but he refuses to let him help and eventually even jimin leaves him be.

 

he misses his mom in a way that he's never experienced. the most they've been apart is a few days and now it's going on two weeks and he's running on caffeine and desperation and the fact that he hasn't passed out or had a heart attack from all the ing redbull he's pumping into his veins is a god damn miracle.

 

when he lets himself think about it, really think about her being thousands of miles away, he doesn't cry, but the lump that forms in his throat threatens to choke him.

 

 

 

its been three weeks, four days, and ten hours since she left when the first phonecall comes. jeongguk's at work sweeping the floors in the back of house before close and pulls out his phone when it starts to vibrate and he nearly drops it when he sees the name eomma bright on the screen.

 

“mom,” he gasps into the phone, and her soft voice saying his name is enough to sooth his anxiety and he smiles, shoulders relaxing for the first time in only god knows how long. he's so relieved to hear her voice that he could cry.

 

“how are you? are you well?” he asks.

 

“i'm fine, jeongguk,” she replies with such sincerity that she clearly could tell how worried he was from the tone of his voice.

 

“you're taking care of yourself, right? halmeoni is doing well?”

 

“yes yes, she's doing fine. i would have called earlier, but it took so long to get her situated after her fall...”

 

“i'm just happy to know you're okay.” and jeongguk is, he really is, so happy he could burst after feeling shriveled and dead inside.

 

she scoffs at him with a muttered, “i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” and he laughs with a “yeah yeah, of course you can.”

“but how are you doing? how is school?”
 

“school's fine, ma.”

 

“are you eating well?”

 

he opens his mouth to reply but pauses, thinking back to the entirely unhealthy diet of ramen he's been living off of since she left, and lord is his mother intuitive because she says, “if you tell me you've eaten nothing but instant food...” and he's not about to lie to her, so he just kind of hums, wincing at her annoyed “aish! this kid!” and laughing as she tuts at him.

 

 

 

after the first call she messages him little things through the day, about the fresh seafood she got at the market, about the nice lady at his grandma's church who offered to help her take care of his grandma, about all the weird little reverse culture shock things she deals with after being in the US for nearly twelve years. in turn he tells her about a dance move he can't seem to get down, about a rude customer that came in and how they all made fun of him after he left, about how cold it is and how he can't wait for spring.

 

he knows she's keeping near constant contact with him for his own peace of mind, and he appreciates it more than he can say.

 

she brings up whether or not he's eating properly, and again he avoids answering, only this time she tells him plainly that he better take care of himself while she's gone or she'll be mad. and, well, when it comes to his mom he'll do damn near anything she wants, so thats how he finds himself at one of the local grocery stores, a basket hanging from his arm as he tries to figure out what he even wants to eat.

 

so far he has some veggies and bread and deli meat and cheese, easy things to throw together and shove in his mouth in what little downtime he allows himself. he even manages to find kimchi hiding in the asian aisle next to twenty five different kinds of sriracha sauce and cheap nasty american soy sauce. he hasn't had kimchi since his mom left – she didn't have a chance to make more before being whisked away to busan and he's a ing disaster when it comes to doing any sort of food related activities that take longer than fifteen minutes of prep time – so he grabs a jar.

 

the first bite he has is the last, and the jar ends up in the trash, and he goes to bed hungry for home cooked food and his mom's soft singing in the kitchen.

 

jeongguk mentions something about missing real korean food to jimin in his next dance class, and he quirks a brow. “speaking again, huh?” he says, and it's more accusation than question, but jeongguk's downturned gaze is enough to mollify jimin and he sighs. “do you wanna get food after class? i know a good place, and it's not too far off campus.”

 

jeongguk shrugs, “yeah, sure.”

 

 

 

this place not too far off campus turns out to be an hour away – fourty minutes on the bus and twenty minutes on foot – and jeongguk would be mad that it's so far out of the way if it weren't for the fact that he really owes jimin for being a for the last month for ignoring him and pushing him away and generally being a horrible friend.

 

so he swallows down his sarcastic quips and listens attentively as jimin fills him in on what he's missed while they stomp through the snow from this morning, barely touched on the sidewalk by other pedestrians. he's never been in this part of the city, always sticking to campus and a few other places. before getting into college they'd lived in a little town some three hours away, full of corn fields and tractors and big trucks. and while the city isn't that big in comparison to the major cities of the US, it's still big enough to be daunting.

 

but jimin walks like he's been here a hundred times, moving through the streets without really paying attention to where he's going and it speaks volumes about how much jimin must love this place, with how picky of an eater he can be sometimes.

 

it's tucked away in a quiet part of the city, squished between a korean grocer and a electronic repair shop. it looks decent enough, though the fact that the name of the place – Kim Cubed, how inspired – is in papyrus so jeongguk can't help but wrinkle his nose at it.

 

jimin catches the look and pokes him in the stomach. “don't make that face, gukkie,” he says, slinging an arm around jeongguk's shoulder and steering him towards the entrance. “yeah okay, the choice of font is but the food's good and that's all that matters, right? we're not here to eat their sign.”

 

“the food better be good,” jeongguk mutters and jimin squeezes his shoulder just tight enough to make him squirm in his grasp. “, dude, quit trying to crush me!”

 

“ya! you owe me for being a , so quit complaining.” jimin scowls at him and jeongguk really has nothing to say to that without sounding like even more of an so he quits complaining and lets himself be pushed through the front door.

 

the first thing that hits him is the smell. god, that smell. he takes a deep breath and his eyes flutter closed for just a moment, and when they open jimin has the smuggest ing look on his face, practically screaming “I TOLD YOU SO” with his eyes. but jeongguk will let him be smug because holy its like he can taste the gochujang in the air, spicy and sour, and the fact that he hasn't flooded the place with his drool yet is astounding.

 

it's nine o'clock on a tuesday night and yet the place is packed. it's not all koreans either; a mishmash of different ethnicities fill the tables, a cacophony of languages and accents. the fact that the place is so busy at such an odd time speaks well of its food and reputation, and it makes jeongguk even hungrier. there's a small two person table left, tucked away in a corner, and the two of them weave a path through the other tables to get to it before someone else can.

 

“how did you even find this place?” jeongguk asks.

 

jimin smiles. “it's crazy how i found it, actually. i did this thing where i go online and search google, and the—ow, , dude!” his smile is gone, replaced by a pout as he reaches under the table to rub at his shin.

 

jeongguk's phone dings in his pocket and he pulls it out, smiling softly at another message from his mom. [halmeoni is making a bunch of food for me to bring home for you so you'll grow 'big and strong'.] his smile widens and he types back a quick reply; [speaking of food, i'm eating an actual meal with jimin, so you can stop worrying about my diet].

 

message sent, he puts it back into his pocket and looks up to see jimin staring at him with a look in his eye. “what?”

 

jimin rests his elbow on the table and props his chin up on it, amusement coloring his voice. “so who was that, huh? what's his name? is he why you were being so moody?”

 

jeongguk rolls his eyes and hits jimin's arm, pushing it from under his chin and knocking him off balance for a second. “it's not some guy, you lord, it's my mom.”

 

“oh, i haven't seen her in a while. how is she?” jimin asks.

 

jeongguk struggles for a moment, just a moment – i dont know how she is jimin i haven't seen her in way too ing long and shes too good at lying for me to know for sure if shes actually okay when she says shes okay or if shes struggling or needs my help and – but swallows and replies with, “she says she's fine, but she's back in korea with my grandma so... i don't know for sure.”

 

a myriad of emotions flicker across jimin's face – surprise, confusion, understanding, worry – but he doesn't have a chance to say anything because someone behind jeongguk says, “ya, jiminie!” in the loudest, happiest voice jeongguk's ever heard (and he's friends with jimin, so that's saying something).

 

jimin looks up at whoever it is with a grin, and jeongguk turns his head to see who it is that's friendly enough with jimin to call him jiminie.

 

whatever he was expecting, it sure as hell wasn't this. he can't decide if the dude behind him his cute or weird or both, with his rectangle grin and orange hair and black rimmed glasses with no actual lenses and who even does that anymore, and an over-sized gray sweater riddled with holes. the holes are there for fashion, maybe, but jeongguk isn't sure just what kind of fashion involves ruining a perfectly good sweater and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if it's food safe to be wearing that. “whoa, wait, what?” this weirdly cute (or is it cutely weird?) says, eyes widening as he rounds the side of the table and leans close to jeongguk's face.

 

jeongguk shifts back as this guy invades his personal bubble; he smells a little like burnt rice and a lot like some fancy cologne you'd find at macy's on sale during the holidays. “uh...” he starts, shooting jimin a glance.

 

“jiminie, you didn't tell me you had friends!” orange boy squawks, and jimin is punching him in the shoulder with a “of course i have friends, jerk.” the punch only gets him another big grin and jeongguk wonders if this guy's mouth is as big as his smile and wonders what all he can fit into it.

 

“so water to drink, right?” the guy asks jimin, and he nods. “the usual food too?” another nod. “sweet jimin, so predictable, so precious.” he reaches out to pat jimin's head but the hand gets smacked away with a hiss, so he turns his attention to jeongguk. “and what can i get for jimin's mysterious and adorable friend?”

 

jeongguk blinks, feels heat rise to his cheeks as he stares up at him. adorable? out of the corner of his eye he can see jimin biting his lip, trying to hide a grin and jeongguk aims another kick at his shin. “uh, do you have a menu i can look at?”

 

“menu, schmenu,” is the reply he gets as the waiter flaps his his hand dismissively. “if it's korean, we can make it.” another grin. they're a little disarming, leaving jeongguk unbalanced in the face of such overwhelming happiness.

 

“doenjang jjigae, then.” a pause. “please.”

 

jeongguk's shortness doesn't seem to phase the guy as he snaps a quick two-finger salute with a chipper “comin' right up!” before he dashes away to put in their order. jeongguk stares after him and concludes that he is both cute and weird, and wonders what his name is.

 

but jimin doesn't supply it, and when he comes back with their food he doesn't offer it, instead calling jeongguk adorable again and its enough to make him forget to ask until he's already bounding off to another table, grin already plastered on his face.

 

jimin catches him staring after him and waggles his eyebrows suggestively, jerking his legs away before jeongguk can make another attempt at breaking his leg. “don't kick me, i'm precious,” he pouts, fluttering his eyelashes then laughing at the disgusted look on jeongguk's face.

 

 

 

things get better as time passes, especially now that jimin knows why jeongguk's been off lately. when it looks or sounds like he's having another Bad Day, jimin's there at the the apartment with food and a movie, or a videogame, or just there to keep him company so its harder for him to let his imagination get away with him. he's even there when jeongguk's mom facetime's him; she coos at both of them and tells them how handsome they are, how proud she is of them.

 

but jimin can't always be there, and jeongguk has to hold his own against his own mind, has to fight to stay afloat and not let his thoughts weigh him down too much. as the seasons begin to turn and spring starts to push winter back into the frozen hell it belongs in, he starts walking more, sometimes wandering for hours until he gets lost and has to ask for directions to the closest bus stop or train station.

 

its on one of these walks that he finds himself traveling down a familiar road, and it takes him a few blocks to figure out where he is. without the snow this place looks different, but it's definitely the way jimin took him to go to that Kim Cubed place a month ago, and, hey, its the weekend and he has no plans and he hasn't had lunch yet, so he may as well stop in. plus it may be the beginning of march but it's ing cold outside and jeongguk knows his nose and ears are dark red by the way they burn and sting, and maybe it's not a good idea to walk around all day when it's only ten above freezing and he was dumb enough to leave with only a northface jacket. so he goes in, partly for the warmth and partly because being there makes him think of home and home makes him think of his mom, and damn if this isn't the closest thing he can have to having her back in the states, back in their apartment, making him kimbap after a long day of classes.

 

the place is pretty empty for a saturday afternoon, a bell chiming somewhere in the back as he opens the door. a voice floats out to him from a swinging door, “eoseo useyo!” and hearing korean soothes something in him, like fingers running through his hair as he's dozing with his head in someone's lap.

 

he rubs his hands together to get the feeling back in his fingertips and can hear a muffled conversation in the back of house over the murmurs of conversation happening at the few inhabited tables and the sounds of silverware and clinking glasses and noodle slurping. there's a shout and then someone's pushing through the swinging door backwards, hands up as if to defend themselves as a guy with a long fade and grey hair that's showing black at the roots swings a ladle at him. the person fleeing is laughing and considering the hair colors he's seen so far from the people who work here jeongguk's not surprised that this one has lilac hair, until he turns around and jeongguk sees that it's the orange haired guy but this time its ing lilac and who dyes their hair lilac? who dyes their hair so much that within three weeks it's a completely different color?

 

weirdly cute weirdos with rectangle grins and big mouths and bright eyes, that's who.

 

that all processes in a matter of seconds, because that's all the time he gets before crayola hair boy is grinning at him and waving and calling out, “jimin's adorable friend is here!” and the dude with the gray hair is poking his head out to see and there's someone coming from a side room carrying glasses who looks at him as well and what the , did crayola hair tell everyone who works here that he's 'jimin's adorable friend'?

 

(a part of him is thankful that he said it in korean because the people sitting at the table are decidely caucasian and he would probably set himself on fire right then and there if everyone was staring at him the way those three are)

 

the flush that rises to his cheeks is a mix of embarrassment and annoyance and he turns on his heel, ready to throw himself back outside with an empty stomach rather than face the three sets of eyes that are boring into him. but there's a hand on his elbow, tugging on the sleeve of his needlessly expensive jacket and when he turns he sees its the guy from the first time he came in but this time instead of looking eternally happy he looks a little apologetic and for some reason it looks so so wrong; so when he asks, “are you really leaving without getting food?” jeongguk can't help but shake his head and let himself be led to a table near the register and pushed into a seat.

 

he isn't offered a menu – again – and he orders doenjang jjigae – again – and he's given a two finger salute – again – but unlike last time jeongguk remembers to ask for this guy's name, and when he finds the right time to ask, the smile he gets in return is ing beatific and he doesn't even know if he really knows what that word means but it's the only thing he can think of for a smile so bright and so ing happy, like the sun rising on a warm summer day to bless the world with its burning kiss.

 

“my name's taehyung,” crayola hair says, and jeongguk commits it to memory.

 

 

jeongguk ends up going to Kim Cubed more often, sometimes with jimin, sometimes alone. with jimin it's about hanging out and having fun and laughing at taehyung's antics as he annoys the guy with the fade – whose name is namjoon, jeongguk finds out eventually – and tries to avoid being yelled at by seokjin, the owner of that soft voice jeongguk heard the second time he came in. it's all fun and games and good times when he comes with jimin.

 

when he comes alone its usually after waking up drenched in sweat, trembling after another nightmare where his mom is curled up on the floor as the carpet starts to stain red and no matter how hard he tries he can't scream for help. hours spent walking outside eventually lead him to Kim Cubed's door and when he walks in alone, no matter if it's balls to the walls busy or so dead you could hear a pin drop in the dining room, taehyung is still there with his grin and his weird jokes and his silly hair colors.

 

when he comes alone he's the center of taehyung's attention, gets extra banchan, sometimes even gets a sweet treat, a brownie or cookie or cupcake stolen from namjoon's stash; taehyung weathers seokjin's admonishments for neglecting other customers with that damn smile of his firmly in place, a smile that softens just a little when he has his eyes on jeongguk.

 

and jeongguk doesn't read anything into it, doesn't pay attention to it, chalks it up to taehyung's eccentric ways even as his skin burns when taehyung brushes up against him when its crowded, even as his heart skips a beat when taehyung winks at him from across the dining room when he's caught staring.

 

it's nothing. it's absolutely nothing. yeah, okay, he's cute, whatever, but jeongguk doesn't know jack about taehyung besides where he works and that he's memorized every single Britney Spears song (which he learned one day when taehyung refused to answer anyone with anything but a Britney Spears lyric and almost got fired).

 

he doesn't know him, so there's nothing between them. it's that simple.

 

yeah, simple.

 

 

 

it stops being simple when jeongguk hears taehyung sing.

 

 

 

jeongguk sits in the music department's auditorium, pulling at the dress shirt he's wearing because it's a little too tight but he dresses up so infrequently he never had a reason to get one that fit him better. he wonders if he should be wearing a tie as his eyes wander to the other people sitting around them, but then again they're about to watch a college musical production, they're not on ing broadway, so he decides his dress shirt, jeans, and chuck taylors are good enough.

 

the fact that jimin sits beside him dressed similarly helps, though seokjin is wearing a god damn suit and namjoon is wearing a basketball jersey and a snapback so who the hell knows what the dress code is for this sort of stuff.

 

he's not one to come to these sorts of things – in his year and a half in college he's been to a total of two things that weren't related in some way to dance, and he's never stepped foot in the music department building before today, or any other department if he's completely honest. and yet here he sits, knees jittering with nerves as they wait for the show to begin.

 

he has no reason to be nervous, he's not the one about to perform in front of what looks like a packed house, and yet his stomach still flutters with butterflies as he checks the time on his phone. five minutes until the curtains rise on the opening night of phantom of the opera.

 

when taehyung invited him, bashful smile and downturned eyes, he hadn't said what part he played in the production and jeongguk hadn't thought to ask, and he didn't think to grab a program either. so when the lights dim and the curtain rises, jeongguk gives the stage his completely undivided attention, eyes searching for taehyung's face and then suddenly a third of the way through act one he thinks maybe, maybe he hears his voice, but is that really him?

 

that deep baritone, voice like honey, seductive and sweet yet hiding an undercurrent of derangement?

 

jeongguk's not sure, it's just the voice, but it makes his skin tingle, his bones thrum and vibrate, threatening to burst from his skin at escape velocity to orbit around the earth; the wonder and awe and thinly veiled attraction on the face of the girl playing chrstine is probably the exact same ing thing that's on his and he doesn't even think about being embarrassed when no one can really see his face.

 

but his suspicions about who that voice belonged to are proven true when mere minutes later into the scene taehyung appears on stage, and even with the stupid white mask covering half his face jeongguk just knows it's him up there in black cloak and black gloves and black outfit with his eyes glittering through the mask with unbridled passion and jeongguk can't help but stare because holy is that really taehyung what the what the and then taehyung is singing to chrstine and leading her across the stage and oh my ing god that's taehyung singing why did he not know taehyung could sing this is insane jesus ing christ

 

his voice is so deep, so strong, so emotional; it presses against jeongguk's ribcage, squeezes the air from his lungs until he feels like he's suffocating and this is like a god damn spiritual experience and how did he not know that taehyung could sing? how did he not know that taehyung was a theater major and went to the same school as him?

 

act one ends and the audience claps and jimin is grinning at him and saying, “hyung's amazing, isn't he?”

 

and all jeongguk can do is nod as he claps, skin electric, heart turning supernova with pride and something else, something even warmer that he could figure out if he looked long enough.

 

 

 

they're all out eating at a divey little place a few blocks outside of campus proper – namjoon, seokjin, jeongguk, taehyung, jimin, and even two of taehyung's other friends, yoongi and hoseok. its the first time jeongguk's met them but they seem cool enough, even if yoongi is grumpier than namjoon and paler than a corpse and hoseok keeps challenging jimin to a dance off with a face-splitting smile.

 

the table is covered in mugs of beer (and in jeongguk, jimin, and taehyung's case, soda, because they're under the legal drinking age and this place isn't divey enough to supply alcohol to people whose IDs are still vertical) and baskets of fries and fried pickles and fried cheese and every other fried thing they have on the menu, and part of jeongguk really just wants something light but the other part has eaten ten mozzarella sticks already with no plans of stopping.

 

the air is full of laughter and praises for taehyung's performance and he smiles through all of it, cheeks dusted red, a little from the compliments and a lot from the crazy strong makeup remover he had to use to get all that stage makeup off his face.

 

there's a natural lull in the conversation, and this is nice, this thing jeongguk has right now. it's enough to pull him through his worry and anxiety each day, enough to keep his mind off of just how far away his mom is and... it's just nice to have people to hang out with, more people than jimin at least. and thats not to say that jimin isn't enough, but sometimes he just needs more, and this easy comradery they all have as they make fun of each other and throw pieces of fries and sing off key to miley cyrus, this is enough, he thinks.

 

taehyung's voice breaks through the silence at the table, dragging jeongguk from his thoughts. “so this was your first musical, right, gukkie?” he asks, eyes wide and a little apprehensive when jeongguk nods. “what did you think?”

 

“i think you were ing amazing.” the words fall from his mouth without thought and his face flushes and he can hear jimin waggling his eyebrows, what the , and namjoon is making a gesture with his hand and mouth while seokjin swats his shoulder for being an , but even with the teasing, it's worth it to see the pure delight that blooms on taehyung's face. they stare at each other like that for one heartbeat, two, jeongguk's lips slowly twisting into a soft smile as taehyung grins his rectangle grin, all teeth and gums and joy.

 

the party moves on to the apartment that namjoon, seokjin, and taehyung share once the food is gone and they drink all the alcohol they can afford to buy. namjoon's ing wasted, singing lines from phantom at the top of his ing lungs as he stumbles down the sidewalk, seokjin hovering besides him with one hand out to keep him on his feet and from walking into traffic. yoongi looks properly tipsy, if the fact that his face actually has some color says anything, and him, jimin, and hoseok keep stopping to break out into random dances from this or that pop song. one of the times someone driving by even honks at them, some girl yelling “get it!” out the window as the three hip in tandem.

 

god they're all so ing embarrassing, but jeongguk just laughs at them with taehyung, the two walking close enough to bump shoulders and brush hands as they walk and this is weird but it's nice, the same way that taehyung is weird but nice, and jeongguk is perfectly okay with whatever... this is. this thing that's taken seed in his chest and is beginning to grow, the first sprouts poking through the soil to drink up the sunlight that is taehyung.

 

they make it to the apartment mostly unscathed – namjoon did eventually end up falling and scraping his hands, whining and pouting and puffing out his cheeks when seokjin told him “its your fault for drinking so much” – and they stumble in, breathless from laughing and yelling and acting like a bunch of douchebag college kids. they all fill the kitchen, eating whatever they can get their hands on before moving to the living room. it takes moments for someone to dig out the n64 and soon they're playing mario kart and placing bets and the room is filled with their jeers and cries and wails of defeat as rainbow road ing decimates them.

 

jeongguk lounges on the couch, watching the hyungs make fools of themselves and hes... he's just happy. genuinely happy with no reservations for the first time in a long while. on the way home his mom had messaged him so he knew she was okay, he was full of horrible but delicious food, and surrounded by people that made him feel real and whole again.

 

taehyung crawls off the floor and nudges jeongguk's shoulder to get him to sit up and make room, settling into the old battered couch with a sigh when he does. jeongguk shifts to sit up completely but taehyung's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back down until his head is in his lap. part of him knows he should be sitting up anyway, fighting against taehyung's hand and putting a little distance between them, but the part of him that basks in the warmth of taehyung's presence does not give a and is more than happy to lay here in his lap as his fingers gently run through his hair. nobody notices, and jeongguk doesn't think he'd really care if they did, he's so comfortable and full and happy and there's a bit of exhaustion creeping in at the edges as he yawns and blinks his eyes.

 

taehyung looks down at him and the smile on his face isn't big and rectangular and teeth and gums but it's soft and small and it's a smile that jeongguk's never seen, one that seems special and intimate and it makes his skin burn and his toes curl at the implication.

 

the older boy hums as he plays with jeongguk's hair. “you doing okay?”

 

jeongguk lets his eyes flutter closed and nods, leaning his head further into taehyung's hand. “i'm fantastic. you're fantastic. you were fantastic. did i tell you that yet?” and he must be more tired than he thought because his tongue is loose and words are just pouring from his mouth like a toxic spill, but taehyung doesn't seem to mind so jeongguk doesn't worry too much about it. he just hums and runs his fingers through his hair, fingernails gently scraping at his scalp and it isn't long before jeongguk is drifting off into sleep, lulled by the sounds of hoseok crying after getting last place, jimin bragging over yoongi's threats of violence, and the feel of taehyung's hand in his hair.

 

 

 

jeongguk stands in the kitchen, bagging sweatshirt sagging low on his shoulders, low enough for the hem to nearly reach the worn knees of his hello kitty pajama bottoms. he shifts from foot to foot, the linoleum cold beneath him; he yawns, his jaw cracking with the force of it as he wipes the sleep from the corners of his eyes.

 

there's someone to his left digging around under the sink and he looks down and finds his mom crouched, looking for a pan. she looks up at him with her sweet smile as if she hasn't been gone for months, and there's a lump in his throat and the edges of his vision waver with unshed tears gathering along his lower lid, and his mom – his sweet sweet mother – looks at him with bemusement a sliver of worry. “why are you crying?”

 

“because you were gone for so long, and–“ he chokes on the words, on the emotions bubbling forth in his chest, presses his lips into a fine line, bites the insides of his cheeks to hold in the sob waiting behind his teeth.

 

she stands, pan in hand, and tilts her head. the confusion on her face is clear as day and jeongguk can't understand why she's confused. she's been gone and he missed her, what is there to be confused about? but then she's pressing a hand against his cheek, swiping away a tear with the pad of her thumb and he tries so hard not to lean into her hand. “i've been here the whole time, dear. did you have another nightmare?”

 

and maybe those last three months were just a nightmare, and maybe she never left for korea and maybe everything is okay again; he entertains the thought for a moment, just a moment, but then he hears someone unlocking the front door, sees the panic that blooms on his mother's face as she pushes him down, pushes him into the kitchen cupboard by the fridge. her voice is frantic as she whispers, “hide, jeongguk, quick! – he should be at work right now, why is he – quickly now, baby, get in and stay quiet like we play hide and seek, okay?” and she's crying and he doesn't understand why but he gets in the cupboard anyway. he should be too big to fit, shoulders too broad and legs too long, but somehow he's smaller, curling up underneath a she;f as his mom shuts the door and leaves him in darkness.

 

jeongguk's heartbeat is pounding in his skull, breath loud to his ears. in the house there is silence, that sort of hush that quiets wildlife when a predator is lurking near, and it buzzes around him, electric. he can hear the front door open, the deep voice that shouts his mother's name, the shuffle of her feet as she moves from the kitchen to the living room, the quiet murmur of her response, the sound of flesh striking flesh and the sound of her surprised cry.

 

something heavy hits the ground, a dull meaty thump, and he wants to scream, wants to run, but his mom said to hide, to stay quiet, so he clamps his hands over his mouth to muffle his sobs.

 

there's heavy footsteps in the kitchen as dishes slam and something shatters against the wall, that terrible voice roaring his name as he rips open doors looking for jeongguk. his mom's voice comes again, closer, “hyeonsuk, jeongguk's at school, he's not here,” and there it is again, the sound of something fleshy and solid being hit and something skids across the floor and he can't help it he can't help the cry he lets out because he knows it's his mom on the floor, he know it's her being hit instead of him and he just can't help it.

 

and it's enough – his dad always had good hearing, the er – its enough of a sound for his dad to hear and the cupboard door is ripped open, the sudden shift from darkness to morning sunlight blinding jeongguk. he can't see his father's face but he can practically taste the rage radiating from him, can feel the hands on him, right around his wrists, dragging him from the cupboard. he wants to scream, wants to shout but it's caught in his throat and all he can do is sob silently as the hands jerk him away.

 

his eyes adjust and all he sees is his mother – his sweet sweet mother – lying on the floor with blood dripping from , eye already bruising and she's screaming his name through the copper in , “not my jeongguk! hurt me instead! please! jeongguk!”

 

“jeongguk! wake up!”

 

he sits up with a gasp, hands flailing, pushing away the arms that wrap around his shoulders, fighting to be free as his mind fights through the mental fog of sleep, struggles to catch up. his eyes blink unseeing as tears streak his face but there's a hand on the back of his head pushign his face into someone's chest and a deep voice talking to him, a deep melodic voice that reminds him of singing; “you're safe gukkie, you're okay, you're at my apartment on the couch, you're okay.”

 

the memories of the night before flood into jeongguk's mind, of going to a music of fried foods and beer and mario kart, of taehyung's hand in his hair and the relief that fills him makes his muscles go slack.

 

they sit there on the couch for what seems like an eternity, jeongguk's chest heaving as he tries to get his racing heart under control, sweat and tears leaving his face a mess. he wants to pull away, wants to hide from the shame of having a nightmare on taehyung's ing musty old cough like a child, but taehyung's arms are warm, one hand still on the back of his hand while the other rubs soothing circles into the small of his back and he just can't find the strength to pull away.

 

after he feels enough in control of his emotions to speak, he mumbles into taehyung's chest, “what time is it?”

 

“a little after three,” taehyung replies, and jeongguk can feel the words rumbled against his face more than hear them.

 

he winces, curls his hands into fists where they rest in taehyung's lap. “, did i wake you up? i'm sorry, i didn't mean to wake anyone up.” jeongguk's stomach drops at the mere thought of burdening someone with all of this, of ruining someone's peaceful sleep with his bull.

 

but taehyung is shrugging and jeongguk finally, finally, pulls away enough to look up into the other boy's face and he's met with a smile. that soft smile that he never sees taehyung give to anyone else but him. “nah, i was already up. i'm at sleeping.” the smile morphs into a grin and jeongguk can't help but smile back, even if it's a little shaky, even if it's a little forced. “wanna see what i was working on?” and jeongguk knows it's just a way to take his mind off of his nightmare, the nightmare taehyung hasn't asked about yet and jeongguk is so ing grateful that he's not prying, but he takes the bait anyway and nods.

 

which is how he finds himself helping taehyung make a paper mache tree in the kitchen.

 

well, all taehyung has done so far of the completed scuplture is the tree trunk, a few sparse branches sticking out haphazardly. that, and about twenty mini drying on the counter by the sink.

 

how taehyung convinces jeongguk to actually help with this thing instead of just turning on his heel and going back to the couch is anyone's guess –

 

(it's not really a guess, let's be real here. taehyung wants jeongguk to do something so jeongguk's gonna do it whether he likes it or not because he's a er for the burning sun that is taehyung's smile and he's too tired to even try to put up a fight)

 

– but help he does, forming branches out of newspaper and glue while taehyung works on more es. he hasn't done anything like this since elementary school and it takes him back, to moving to a different country, stumbling through his english and being picked on by kids until someone took pity on him and offered to help him learn. that someone turned out to be jimin, and isn't it weird how life works out? in that small farming town there was one other korean, one that lived in the us longer than him that could help translate and teach, who ended up being his best friend.

 

jeongguk sighs and works the wet newspaper in his hand into another branch. his thoughts can't help but wander back to the past, his mind refusing to let go of the memories dredged up by his nightmare. he searches for something, anything, to distract his mind, and looks up at taehyung. “so, why were you making this again?”

 

taehyung looks up from a rather spectacular rendition of a micro – “variety is the spice of life, gukkie” – and leans forward with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“you know how people say ' a bag of ?'” he whispers conspiratorially, miming the motion with his hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

 

jeongguk nods mutely, rolling his eyes while trying to pretend he finds the sight of taehyung acting out a very interesting.

 

“well, i got to thinking. where do you get a bag of ? do you just chase down a bunch of dudes and chop them off and shove them in a plastic bag? and so i wondered to myself, 'taehyung, what if grew like plants?' and once i thought of it i couldn't stop, so i decided i should make it.”

 

he shrugs with a grin but jeongguk can tell by the set of his shoulders that he's anxious, waiting to see how he responds. so jeongguk shrugs back.

 

“okay.”

 

“okay?”

 

jeongguk shrugs again, returning his attention to this damn tree branch that won't take the shape he wants it to. “yeah, okay. it makes sense. get stuck on an idea, gotta do something about it, right?”

 

with his attention on his hands, he doesn't necessarily see it, but he hears it; the soft exhalation, the relief of not being made fun of. jeongguk's heard enough from the hyungs about how people on campus tend to treat taehyung's eccentricities and he thinks it's bull. taehyung is a full package deal, you take all of him or none of him, and he's not that weird.

 

honestly, jeongguk wouldn't change anything about him, trees and all.

 

 

 

something changes between them, after that night. it's not a huge change, nothing world ending, but it's a definite shift. jeongguk can't quite put his finger on what it is exactly that's changed, but they hold each other's gazes longer, sit closer, gravitate towards each other whenever they occupy the same space.

 

it doesn't go without notice by the rest of the group, but none of them do more than lift their eyebrows and glance at each other meaningfully when, somehow, taehyung ends up with his head on jeongguk's shoulder or jeongguk materializes at taehyung's side, shoulders pressed together, the backs of their hands brushing.

 

okay, so he can definitely put his finger on what's changed, but knowing and acknowledging are two distinctly different things, the difference between staying friends and making a mess of things, so jeongguk keeps on knowing without acknowledging, keeps resisting the urge to take taehyung's hand, to turn his head and nuzzle into his neck, to stand behind him and wrap his arms around him and bury his nose in his hair and breathe in that fancy cologne taehyung insists on spending his money on.

 

he resists, and it kills him a little.

 

 

 

the theater production stays open for two weeks, the last performance on the day before spring break officially starts. namjoon decides to throw a party to celebrate both, commandeering his parents house while they're out of town on a cruise to the caribbean. the house is a little ways out of the city, in a small suburb where fast food places aren't 24 hour and the stoplights flash yellow and red after a certain hour.

 

everyone's there. all the hyungs, some people from jeongguk's dance class, two thirds of the musical cast, a bunch of people from yoongi and namjoon's music production classes. literally everyone that's worth being around is packed into the three-bedroom-two-bathroom ranch and the air is thick with heat and laughter and the smell of vodka and cheap beer, and for a while jeongguk can handle it, can handle how loud it is, how the bass of the music seokjin has playing from a playlist on his phone pulses through his limbs, thumps in his chest.

 

he dances with people he's never met, drinks shots with jimin and yoongi, hooks an arm around hoseok's neck and raps the verses to run dmc songs. but after the fourth beer and some-number-of-shots that he can't remember, the room seems to close in around him, the press of bodies making his skin crawl.

 

jeongguk walks – stumbles – from the living room and through the kitchen, ignores the people hiding in dark corners with their hands all over each other, and out the patio door into the backyard. with the sun down the air is crisp; the faint sheen of sweat on his skin cools quickly and makes him shiver, but the air is clear out here and, with the patio door slid closed, its quiet too.

 

for a moment he simply stands there, head tilted back as he breathes air that isn't hot and sticky from already being in someone else's lungs, and in that moment he looks at the sky.

 

the stars twinkle down at him; faint as they are from light pollution, they still shine on, and he's close enough to being drunk to think that's just the most amazing ing thing, that these stars exist even when they're not being looked at, how there are billions of the things out there burning and exploding and being born and nobody on earth gives more than two s about it.

 

he goes from standing to sitting, then to laying, the wood of the patio hard and cold beneath him, and the world is spinning just a little bit but he figures it's supposed to be spinning or there'd be some problems, so he doesn't mind so much, even if it makes him dizzy.

 

“there you in' are, gukkie!” someone yells, and jeongguk doesn't shriek in surprise, he doesn't shriek god damn it, though he does sit up and try to turn. but maybe turning when the world is still turning is a bad idea because he's hit with the worst sense of vertigo he's ever experienced and he's tipping over, hands grabbing for the patio, something solid to hold him down before he spins his way off the suface of the planet and out into the nothingness of space.

 

“oh my god, jeongguk, you little , how much have you had to drink?” there are hands on his shoulders, steadying him, and jeongguk recognizes the voice now that it isn't shouting.

 

he turns his head (slowly this time) and looks up at taehyung and grins, “taetaeeeee,” he croons, and he's so happy to see taehyung that he laughs, leaning back into taehyung's warm hands, reaching up to pat his face.

 

taehyung's face wavers in front of him and he blinks, tries to get his eyes to focus correctly. “taehyung, hyuuuuuuung.”

 

“ya, you're ing wasted.” taehyung laughs and pinches his cheek before letting him go. without his hands to hold him up jeongguk ends up laying down again, sprawled out like a starfish.

 

“m'not,” he mutters, tries to wipe his mouth but misses, instead poking himself in the eye. “ow, , what the ing .”

 

taehyung laughs at him, a full on belly laugh, and jeongguk pouts at him before breaking into a grin. taehyung's laugh is infectious and soon he's laughing as well, tears collecting at the corners of is eyes because it's just so funny. something is so funny, and he'll remember what it is in a minute.

 

“move over, maknae,” taehyung says as he tries to push jeongguk's limbs out of the way and lay down next to him. but jeongguk is drunk and he's petulant so he pushes back, hands flapping and legs swinging weakly. “come on, gukkie, would you – , that hurt! – jeongguk stop, i swear to god,” and jeongguk can't stop laughing, everything's so ing funny.

 

“aish, you brat!” taehyung lifts his hand as if to take a swing at him and suddenly his dad is there and he's going to hit him and he has to protect himself and jeongguk jerks away, hands up above his face, and taehyung is staring down at him with wide, shocked eyes and jeongguk can't stop his heart from racing, fights to tamp down the terror that rises like bile in his throat.

 

it takes him a minute to find his voice again, but when he does he stutters out a, “s-sorry, you just surprised me, and i-i just...” and he's not sober enough for this, he's not sober enough for this, he can't run away, he can't hide, he can't even string together enough words to coherently tell taehyung not to worry about it, to forget about it, to pretend it never happened.

 

and taehyung's looking at him with this look in his eye, and jeongguk doesn't want his pity, doesn't want anyone's pity, so he turns over and lays on his side to hide from taehyung's gaze.

 

he waits there, breathing deep, listening hard to hear if taehyung is going to leave or even get up or anything. waits, and waits, but doesn't hear a damn thing. after what seems like ten minutes he rolls back over and comes face to face with taehyung, though he's laying down next to him on his side, head pillowed by his hands.

 

taehyung's face is blank in that weird way he does where it looks like nothing's going on in his head, eyes void of emotion, and it makes jeongguk uncomfortable to be the target of such an empty stare.

 

but then taehyung is moving forward, and jeongguk's too sloshed to react fast enough, and then taehyung's lips are pressed to his forehead, warm and soft, and it steals the breath from his lungs, punches a hole in the center of his being in the shape of his mouth.

 

taehyung pulls back and smiles. jeongguk smiles back.

 

 

 

jeongguk decides, after that night (and the next morning's hangover), to never drink again.

 

 

 

the rest of spring break is spent dancing.

 

there's a dance recital at the end of the month, and jeongguk is nervous. about his skills, about the dance steps, about making a mistake in front of an audience and making a fool of himself and tanking his grade. so he goes to the studio every day, sun up to sun down, working his way through difficult dance steps, watching himself in the mirrors to make sure he's precise, smooth, sharp, everything he needs to be when he needs to be it.

 

if he does well, if he impresses, then he has a chance for better scholarships, better opportunities, and he'll be damned if he s that up.

 

so he dances and he sweats and sometimes he bleeds and even one time, one frustrating time, he cries alone in the studio, the recital music looping over and over and over.

 

jimin comes sometimes, as does hoseok, but in the end it's jeongguk who stays past midnight, pushing past the point of exhaustion in the hopes of becoming perfect.

 

he only stops for two things. one, his mother's messages and phone calls.

 

two, taehyung coming with lunch.

 

he comes every day of spring break with something for jeongguk to eat. sometimes jeongguk's already taking a break when he shows up, sometimes taehyung has to turn off his music and shove a sandwich in his mouth before he can complain. but no matter what, jeongguk eats at least one meal a day, and something tells him that it's seokjin making sure that jeongguk gets something to eat because, as nice as taehyung is, he doesn't seem the kind of person to think of food unless it's for himself.

 

but he's smart enough not to question it outright and instead enjoys the free meals, sometimes managing to convince taehyung to eat with him. it's on one of these rare days that, with a couple sandwiches bought from panera bread sitting between them as they sit against the wall, taehyung asks, “how is your mom doing?”

 

jeongguk pauses with a potato chip halfway to his mouth to glance sideways at taehyung, eyebrows quirked. “she's fine, last time i talked to her,” he says slowly, not really sure why taehyung's bringing her up all of a sudden.

 

taehyung hums and nods his head, takes a bite of his turkey sandwich. “jimin had mentioned once that she was back in korea.”

 

ah.

 

taehyung says it noncommittally, but jeongguk still stiffens, loses his appetite. he lowers his hand, chip forgotten, and sighs. “yeah, it's... complicated.”

 

taehyung doesn't push, just nods again, and jeongguk doesn't have to say anything else, doesn't have to elaborate, but somehow the words start pouring from his mouth.

 

the yelling, the fighting, the beatings, the bruises and broken bones and the blood, so much blood. the escape, divorce, trial. all of it. having to rebuild in a new country, having to help teach his mother to smile again, having to teach himself to smile.

 

somewhere in the middle of it all taehyung took his hand in his, holding it tight as he stared at jeongguk as he unloaded everything, everything, that has been weighing him down for the last twelve years. taehyung takes it all in without saying anything, and after a while jeongguk trails off, bites his lip, stares down at his lap and picks at the hem of his tank top with his free hand.

 

“i'm proud of you, jeon jeongguk.”

 

his head snaps up and he stares at taehyung, brows furrowed. “what?”

 

tahyung's lips quirk into a small smile. “i said i'm proud of you, jeon jeongguk. you survived.”

 

and... yeah. jeongguk survived. his mom survived. and they lived on and made new lives for themselves and became new people, better people. broken, yeah, but reformed into something stronger. like that japanese pottery, whatever it's called, put back together with gold filling the cracks.

 

his thoughts must show on his face because taehyung's smile is growing into a grin and he's tugging on his hand with a whined, “you're thinking so loud it's giving me a brain aneurysm,” and jeongguk smiles back, leans his head back against the wall and laughs when taehyung pouts at him, cheeks puffed out.

 

 

 

the next time his mom calls he tells her about taehyung, about his smile and his laugh and his idosyncricies that jeongguk would mind if it were anyone else.

 

she tells him she can't wait to meet him, and jeongguk says, “i can't wait for you to meet him, too.”

 

 

 

the recital comes faster than jeongguk wants. he doesn't feel prepared, he doesn't feel confident. in fact, he feels like he's gonna hurl all over his shirt and he's sweating ing buckets and his mouth is so dry he thinks he may die from dehydration before he even takes the first step onto the stage.

 

backstage is ing chaos as people get some last second practice in, fix their hair, try to find their shoes – is that jimin wailing about not knowing where his shoes are? how in the hell did jimin lose his god damn shoes, how is he a human being allowed to exist without a handler. it distracts him from his own inner child, who is currently screaming at the top of its lungs at the mere thought of performing in front of what sounds like a full house.

 

the crowd is currently losing its collective over parris, who is lighting the stage on fire with her no-s attitude and jeongguk hopes he can turn it out as hard as she does. she's gotten a free ride for the last three years because of the talent that fills her veins, and with what she's doing right now she's sure to score a fourth.

 

it's a while yet until he goes on, and the minutes tick by too fast but too slow, individuals and groups rotating on and off the stage. jimin goes before him, the bass of justin timberlake's 'y ladies' pounding beneath their feet as he moves, and then more people he never took the chance to talk to and get to know, and then suddenly it's his turn, and he's being called onto the stage, and the lights are so bright and so hot and he squints againt the glare as he tries to walk like he's confident, like he believes he can do this without making a fool of himself.

 

but then the music starts, and the beat drops, and fingazz is blaring through the speakers, and it's just him and his body and the music.

 

no crowd, no lights.

 

just him.

 

and his body.

 

and the music.

 

and then it's over and the music is fading out and the crowd is screaming and other dance majors in the crowd are throwing their hats and shoes on the stage and he's on ing cloud nine because that was... that was... amazing. pure amazing.

 

he bows and waves before leaving the stage, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and finds all of the hyungs waiting for him behind stage, even jimin, who is still catching his breath and wiping his face from his own solo. they rush him, laughing and cheering and shouting, patting him on the back and ruffling his hair.

 

all except taehyung, who hangs back a bit, eyes alight with pride and something else that jeongguk recognizes and should probably stop ignoring. “ya, taehyung, this was your first dance recital, right?” jeongguk grins and waggles his brows when taehyung nods. “what did you think?”

 

taehyung steps forward and the rest of the group makes room for him, as if this was all planned, just another dance to another song that everyone else can hear but him; taehyung steps forward and puts his hands on jeongguk's shoulders, steps right up into his personal space that stopped being so personal when it was him that invaded it. “i think you were ing amazing.”

 

and in that moment jeongguk throws caution to the wind, finally listens to his heart instead of his head, closes the gap between them, presses his lips to taehyung's, swallows the surprised 'oh' that slips from his mouth.

 

 

 

the airport's crowded (the airport's always crowded, he doesn't know why he expected anything else) and it makes him antsy. jeongguk shifts his weight from foot to foot outside the international flight arrival gate at CMH, head swiveling and eyes scanning for his mother's face. it's been half a year since he's seen her – the summer sun is already beating down on them – and a small part of him is worried he won't recognize her or she won't recognize him, or he'll miss her and she'll walk right by.

 

(a bigger part of him is worried he'll burst into tears the second he sees her and cause a scene in the airport and get them kicked out or investigated or something else equally stupid.)

 

“find her yet?”

 

jeongguk turns towards taehyung, who is coming back with an overpriced coffee from an even more overpriced starbucks a terminal away, and shakes his head. “not yet, no.”

 

taehyung stops next to him and slides his hand into his, giving it a squeeze. jeongguk smiles and twists his hand until their fingers are linked. “nervous?” taehyung asks, and jeongguk nods slowly.

 

“yeah, a little.” he takes a deep breath, holds it, releases it. “more nervous about her meeting you than i am about seeing her again though,” he jibes, smile widening at the scandalized look on taehyung's face.

 

“you act like i'm not the posterboy for morals and good decisions and common sense,” he pouts, pouting harder when jeongguk laughs in his face. “you're an , gukkie, i don't know why i keep you around.”

 

“you keep me around because i put up with your and i'm hot,” jeongguk states simply.

 

“well, yeah, but besides that.”

 

they smile at each other, those soft smiles they reserve for each other, ones that no one else gets to see.

 

“ya, jeongguk! my jeongguk!”

 

oh he could recognize that voice anywhere, that sweet voice, like a windchime in a gentle breeze, and he doesn't even have time to react before he's enveloped in a warm, familiar embrace. “oh my jeongguk, i've missed you so much!”

 

and, yeah, here come the tears, running down his cheeks to drip onto his mother's shoulder as he lets go of taehyung's hand to give her a proper bone-crushing hug. “eomma, welcome home.”

 

they pull apart after a moment, both of them wiping their faces and laughing; his mother finally sees taehyung, who is watching the entire thing with eyes that are shining suspiciously and a little red rimmed. “who is this?” she asks, turning back to jeongguk and he looks at taehyung, at his (now) orange hair, his jeans with holes worn in the knees, his chuck taylors and his baggy tshirt, and smiles.

 

“well, this is...”