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调情| Dalliance

Chapter 9: Epilogue: Fling

Summary:

Ten minutes. Ten minutes he wasted in a stall trying to steady his heartbeat and still his trembling limbs. Ten minutes he killed to avoid the person he had promised to face if the universe would allow him. She did and here he is. Thirty-seven years old and still fearful of what caused his downfall so long ago.

Scary how a fling that lasted less than six months nags him two-and-a-half years later.

Notes:

I love you all. Not proofread, but I promise I will once I will skim through it. Either way, I hope you will enjoy the last chapter! (Song recommendation for this last chapter: Billie Eilish’ Male Fantasy or Stay Down by Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus) ❅༓

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“And then I told her to stop contacting me because I’m already married to my beautiful, amazing wife and you know what she did? She started laughing at me. Laughing! So, I asked her what’s so funny and, with the most deadpan expression I have ever seen in my entire life, she told me she thought I was gay—gay! Turns out, she wasn’t flirting with me for herself but to set me up with her brother. I tell you now, my jaw was on the floor.” 

“What’s wrong with being accused of swinging that way?” Yoongi interrogates, taking a careful sip from his red wine, fingertips brushing along the cut of the glass, stains of deep red tinting the rim. 

“Nothing,” Seokjin answers him, crossing his legs and pushing his empty plate away. “I simply wanted to share this traumatic experience with you all.”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi clicks his tongue. “What do you mean traumatic—”

“Before I came to realise I… swung that way, I had Yoongi second-guess my sexuality multiple times a day,” Namjoon butts in, sending a pointed glare his boyfriend’s way before his lips contort in a playful smile. His hand reaches up for Yoongi’s arm, kneading his bicep through the fabric of his black, button-up blouse. “I could be walking around the room during our shared lunch break and he would suddenly look up and say have you ever caught yourself staring at a man’s butt? And when I would answer no, he would give me this funny look, as if he could see right through me and my lies.”

Yoongi shrugs. “In my defense, it contributed to my work and benefitted my understanding of the current topics of that time before I would read my colleague’s articles.”

“We would cover subjects such as the deflation in Germany, love, how does that—”

“Wait, you two worked together?” Seokjin proclaims with a cadence to his voice, standing up as he collects all bowls and plates and stacks them on one another until there is a pile of dishes in front of them. Before he hobbles to the kitchen, he brings out,“Why is this the first time I hear of this?”

“We used to work together both as editors-in-chief since Namjoon was offered a position at my company after the completion of his internship,” Yoongi explains, lending Seokjin a helping hand as he grabs the empty wine glasses and takes them with him to the kitchen. “That was before I switched positions and started working as a reporter, if I may add,” he yells from the kitchen, the sound of water running down onto the crystalware in a light stream.

Taehyung watches the banter from the farthest edge of the table in amusement, eyes crinkling occasionally as a chuckle pushes up from his throat simultaneously. There is warm light casting on all of his friends’ faces, producing a plunge of chiaroscuro in which all of their features drown. To see all of them get along so well puts him in a state of pure bliss, his own little utopia. It has taken some time, but he feels like he is finally reaching the end goal of his journey, finally wallowing in his own happiness. A couple of years have slid by in a wink and here he is, dining with his dearest friends, slightly tipsy by the scant number of two glasses of wine he had chugged down earlier. 

He hadn’t dared dreaming of such a moment to ever take place, but here he is. Alive and well.

The conversation shifts in a different direction when Seokjin calls for him. “Taehyung,” he says, drawing his attention and they share gazes as his chair’s legs scrape over the wooden floor. “Isn’t Deiji graduating this fall?” 

“She is,” Taehyung speaks, smiling fondly as he thinks of his niece and her accomplishments of the past two years. “It’s still hard to believe she will be moving out in less than three months.” 

“Must be,” Yoongi mumbles as he walks in with four bowls of ice cream, setting them down on the tabletop for each eager hand to claim as their own. “On occasion she would talk to me about you. Often worried, a few times at ease. Until… until last year’s September, you know what I’m hinting at.” Taehyung does indeed know, proceeding to hold eye-contact with his friend as he continues, spoon jabbing into the few scoops of ice cream. “I don’t know if it is just me or if everyone else here agrees, but ever since you started therapy, I have been witnessing a different Taehyung. Someone much more at peace, weightless. You no longer carry your difficulties with you, do you?”

Everyone in the room looks at him, portions of sweetness lifted to their lips as they listen to what he has to say.

Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, all kinds of sorts as they failed to make a choice earlier in the grocery store across from Seokjin’s house. The same home after so many years.

Amsterdam-East, he had not been brave enough to leave her.

“Taehyung-ah, for the sake of my arms, please just choose one. I can’t hold this cart much longer,” his friend had complained, slapping him on the back to make his point clear.

“Hyung, I can’t possibly choose when there are so many delicious flavours,” Taehyung had admitted in shame which earned him another slap and a groan from his left. Ten minutes later, they exited the store with shopping bags abundant with vegetables and snacks up for use later that night.

The clock in the dining room ticks. “No, I have buried them,” Taehyung answers, honestly. “Once in a while I visit this imaginable grave to reflect on bygone days and then I just leave and move on. I have learned that the past isn’t one to dwell on.”

“You have learned well,” Seokjin compliments in between bites, wiping the corners of his lip with the twisted end of his napkin. 

“I agree,” Namjoon’s eyes meet his, pupils flashing magnanimity. “I remember meeting you at the end of March last year and feeling sorry for you. It seemed as if you reckoned each setback as direful. You have come a long way, Taehyung.”

“Thank you, guys,” Taehyung places the palm of his hand on his heart, ducking his head low. “Sincerely.”

Reaching over the table as he outstretches his hand, Seokjin grips Taehyung’s and circles his fingers around the delicate set of skin between his thumb and pointer finger, cheeks dusted in a pink tincture from the wine. “If there is someone you should thank, it is yourself. You made the decision to see a professional and untie the knot of problems and here you are now, glowing and looking so much happier. You affect us too, you know? I cannot help but to smile and feel untroubled whenever I am around you.” 

Mouth mumbling a thank you, hyung to Seokjin, Taehyung’s attention drifts Yoongi’s way. “Are you thinking of attending her graduation ceremony?”

Nodding, Taehyung retreats his hand from Seokjin’s grip to scrape out the remaining blotches of ice cream. “She asked me to, since my brother and his wife can’t make it. I’m all she has and in a way she is all I have,” sweetness permeates his tongue when he sucks his spoon clean. “Moreover, I want to be there.”

He anticipates the question that is coming, can almost taste it on his tongue beside the dominant flavour of strawberries. It sounds like the following, “What if you will see him there?” 

What if he will see him there? Taehyung hasn’t really thought of it, hasn’t really been thinking of him ever since he’s been seeing his therapist at the corner of his street roughly every two weeks or so. Sessions in which he can dump all of his silliest worries and thoughts in her lap, it is as if having her in his life now allows him to cleanse his overwrought mind and begin a new day blankly. She is a breath of fresh air in human form and Taehyung can only thank himself for cutting the final decision to seek help. 

For all he knows, Jeongguk could have dropped out a year ago. He doesn’t know because he never asks and neither does Deiji divulge anything. It is better that way. 

“Then he is there and so am I and everything will be okay. Years have passed and I’m certain we both have grown older and wiser. I’m thirty-seven now, I’m not the one to hold him accountable for anything, he is still—” the love of my life. “he still means a lot to me. He will for a long time.” 

“And if he does hold you accountable?”

Taehyung smiles melancholy. “Then I won’t blame him.”

 


 

Weeks later, Taehyung finds himself once again stepping on Seokjin’s porch with heavy strides, ringing the doorbell as he tries to catch his breath with a hand on his chest. The Can you come over asap? It’s urgent surely did not help Taehyung’s already racing heart. 

He had just returned from an invigorating jog around the neighbourhood at the request of his therapist when his phone had pinged and Taehyung being the good friend he is, had immediately bolted down the stairs, uncaring of the fact that his body was covered in a sheen layer of sweat and that he must have been leaving behind the sour scent of transpiration everywhere he went. If Seokjin needed him, he was determined to be there. For him and with him.

It feels good spending time with those who wish the best for him. Lately, he has caught himself wanting to contact his mother more than ever before. Maybe it is because she has proven her changed behaviour, that she genuinely wants the best for him and appreciates him for who he is. What has become of him. 

People only change when they want to. He is lucky his mother realised it could not go on any longer like that. 

The front door opens after a blink or two. “Taehyung,” Seokjin says flatly, just standing there before he flaunts a picture in front of Taehyung’s eyes, his own twinkling hopefully. And then it strikes Taehyung—an ultrasound photo, which means— “Belle is pregnant,” Seokjin fills in for him, smiling through the tears. Direct and unswerving, like he could not wait any longer. “Three weeks now. I had to tell you, I—”

Fuck, hyung!” Taehyung breathes out, feeling himself physically deflate. “Congrats, holy shit.”

“Thank you, I don’t—I don’t know how to do this, how to be a good dad, but I’m so thankful. I can’t believe it worked, we tried for so long, for a year I didn’t tell anyone because each negative pregnancy test just overcasted the hope more and more, and now—now she is pregnant, I’m actually going to be a dad, Taehyung. Can you believe that?” Seokjin rattles and rattles, cheeks stained with a pink flush and the wetness of his tears of joy. “I am beyond thankful.”

The ducts of his own eyes carry the weight of tears too and before he knows it, they roll down his cheeks one by one. One blink and the contours of Seokjin’s face are blurry.

“I can’t believe it, not yet. But I do know you have what it takes to be a wonderful father for your future kid. Even if it may be scary at the start, I know you will be good. So good,” Taehyung pulls him in a hug, hands spreading warmth over Seokjin’s back in circling courses. “I can’t wait to babysit that little devil of yours.”

A spoonful of jealousy sets in his stomach at the thought of his friend becoming a father, something Taehyung had always wanted to become. Even when he was still living in Korea at the time, with the evidence that he was attracted to men, at all times, there would be the lingering dream in his head to one day become the parent he never had. It was as plain as a pikestaff; he would cross oceans for it. 

He had crossed oceans for it in some way. 

Plenty of tears are put to waste with how they cry in each other’s arms, wetting the other’s fabric as snot slips past their nostrils. It doesn’t matter, Taehyung would not have it any other way. Standing in the entryway of Seokjin’s house, he feels the lightest he has felt in years—almost as if he is flying and a distance pushes itself between the heels of his shoes and the ground. Because the same envy is pushed aside by the flutters of joy that fly through his framework and he cannot help but to smile, smile so widely it puts the muscles of his lips to ache. There is happiness, so much of it, and he has finally found it. 

In himself, but in others too.

And the volcano of joy erupts especially when Seokjin whispers to him, “You, out of everyone, will be the first to babysit my little one.” 

 


 

“Are you excited for today?” Taehyung asks, cocking his head Deiji’s way, just for a millisecond before he focuses back on the busy road in front of them, his left hand gripping the steering wheel whilst his other plays with the gear lever as they come to a gradual halt in front of the traffic lights. When he spares a quick glance in the rearview mirror, he is pleased with the sight of his shamrock green dress suit still wrinkleless and smooth. 

“More like relieved,” she answers him, fingers tapping in a nervous rhythm on the black pantaloons she is wearing. Business chic, Taehyung’s treat. 

“I can only imagine, I faintly recall how glad I was to finally graduate after years of moiling myself to the bone. Hard work pays off, you know, but I’m happy to know you did not spend your student years buried in text books and papers. I’m happy you went out and explored the country, enjoyed your free time away from university.”

She looks at him, Taehyung can tell from the outer arc of his eye. “I feel like there is something interlaced to those words, am I wrong?” 

Taehyung smiles placidly. “There may be, but it is no longer of any importance. It’s in the past.” 

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “I am certain.” 

They take a sharp turn before the high-rise, extortionate buildings of Amsterdam’s Zuidas heave into view and that is when Taehyung knows they are nearing Deiji’s university. The radio hums one of the many pop songs he has come to learn about during his free time and it allows them to fall into a comfortable silence, a lapse nuzzling itself in between their talks. Less than ten minutes before he will find them a free spot at the university’s underground parking garage and escort her to the school’s auditorium where all of the graduates will be celebrated and addressed. 

Less than ten minutes before he will have to give elbow grease to hold the tears of proudness because Deiji has come a long way and he had not dreamed of seeing her prosper and thrive the way she has been lately.

One time on their way to the respective parking lot, Taehyung curses under his breath as the driver of another car tries to cut him off on the highway. One time the diffusion of happiness gets interrupted by an ephemeral trace of annoyance, but he doesn’t let it get to him. This is a fantastic day for October with the sky infused by an aquamarine hue and fall’s sun shining down on them.

This is a fantastic day, even if the automobilist theatrically shows him the middle finger before he passes him in a rush. Taehyung simply purses his lips and drives off the highway, heart racing in his chest, but for other, private, innermost feelings. 

Lately, he has been thinking of him more often than ever. He has finally dared to bring up his name to his therapist, as if he hasn’t been visiting her for over a year now without revealing the real reason to her—him. Taehyung wonders what he looks like now, if he is still the daredevil but nevertheless responsible student from two years ago. 

If that glitter of gratitude in his eyes still shines as brightly.

There was this boy I happened to have involved myself with,” he divulged to her earlier last week because with Deiji’s graduation progressively emerging in sight, he had been invading Taehyung’s peace of mind more than he would ever want to admit. A joke, really, for the reason that two years should be long enough for any ordinary human being to get over someone. 

But—“I do not think you can ever get fully over someone when you stop seeing them altogether for we cannot fall out of love before we pull ourselves out of the ache.” He hadn’t told her he loved him, she must have known from the way his eyes blinked slowly whilst conversing about him, how the corners of his top lip swung up in a small, expressive smile. He caught a flustered state of mind, it worried him. “I believe you are truly over someone the moment their presence starts failing to concern you,” she spoke to him ever so kindly and Taehyung found a speckle of truth in her words. For the time being, it calmed him.

Five minutes later, the tires roll over the garage’s asphalt roads, their heads swerving left and right in search of an empty spot which they find after hardly fifty seconds, shrouded between two larger cars. 

“Ready?” Taehyung calls out before they open the doors, holding his palm up. 

Deiji high-fives him. “As ready as I can be.”

So, they walk to the elevators which leads them up to the university’s grounds. The aula they are brought up to is part of the main building, green couches slouched against the large windows, students and teachers muching or typing the hours in between classes away. The sight makes Taehyung reminisce of his own college years, the image now a more-so this is the past and there is nothing I can change about that than a this is a bitter memory I wish to change

There is a small cafeteria which hides in between robust walls and piles, and Taehyung’s stomach grumbles at the view. As they are outdistanced by more and more students, little ants entering through the revolving doors, the smell of early-morning coffee and freshly baked bread snakes its way in his nose and then his stomach rumbles even louder until Deiji hears it too.

Patting his back, she gestures to the cafeteria. “Wanna grab something before I have to register my presence upstairs?” 

Eagerly nodding in confirmation, Taehyung follows her to the canteen and watches her order two cheese croissants and two latte macchiatos, too late to steal the debit card out of her hands and replace it with his own.

“I told you to stop paying for things when I’m the one with a full-time job,” he grits with feigned annoyance when she returns a little while later, heels clicking against the flooring beneath as she hands him his food and drink.

She has been too good to him lately, it does not feel fair. Even when the black playsuit she is attiring has been paid with his money, even if of the 275 days of the year so far, he has been spending approximately 240 with her on the couch, even when his lids felt too heavy to force open, even when sleep sounded far more appealing than another blatantly melodramatic romance.

“When will you learn, Deiji-ah?”

“Quit the honorifics, it won’t work with me as you can see yourself,” she reminds him whilst taking a bite from her croissant, small crumbles falling to the ground.

Groaning in disagreement, he follows her back to the middle of the aula, up the stairs until they are surrounded by well-dressed students and their family and friends, standing tables that serve them drinks and snacks, and suddenly Taehyung feels out of place in between the middle-aged parents and young-adolescent-looking siblings. 

Rollicking chatter encompasses him and before he knows it, he feels fingers interlacing with his, Deiji’s soothing, “You’ve got me, okay?” 

It is pathetic to be taken care of by someone so much younger in his eyes, Taehyung thinks. Or maybe he should stop comparing his age and maturity with others’ and see them for who they are. In this case; a philantrophical, wise adult who was forced to grow up faster than others because her parents expected her to do so. Taehyung pities Deiji, he really does and she must pity him. Their linked hands are only living proof of that. She has come to understand him, he has come to understand her.

Two years, what a time.

“Thank you,” Taehyung mumbles to her in appreciation, squeezing her hand to emphasise his thankfulness. “So when does the ceremony start?” 

“In about…” Deiji pulls out her phone from the small, pale brown bag dangling off her shoulder. Taehyung’s gift for her nineteenth birthday. She hasn’t stopped wearing it as an accessory to each and every of her outfits ever since. “fifteen minutes.”

“Mind if I’m going to use the bathroom quickly?” He asks her to which he receives a shake of the head and an uttered, “Not at all. Should be at the far left of the hall, at the corner of the stairs.” 

Bowing in gratitude, Taehyung watches Deiji walk over to one of her assumed friends, tugging them in a hug before they yell each other’s ears off in excitement. Just as he is about to turn around, his eyes land on a coupe of curly, ash black hair, lustrous underneath the pendant lights as said person crosses his arms and shakes his head. 

All the way from where Taehyung is cemented to the ground, he can see the person clench his jaw, carding frustrated fingers through the wax-slick strands of hair as the drop earring swings with each furious movement. And the person he is speaking to must be his mother because Taehyung swears they are practically one and the same. The sylphlike curvatures of her body can only mean that she is his mother because Taehyung had traced out those curves himself. It must mean she is—

He can’t do this, not now. His legs work faster than his brain and before he knows it, Taehyung is scurrying his way towards the bathrooms, throwing himself in one of the many empty stalls and twisting the lock with one bellicose movement. 

His heart hammers in his chest, in his neck, underneath the skin of his wrist, everywhere. Beads of sweat surface on his forehead, sousing the locks of his hair. He pees and the stream aims at the toilet, but the minute he is out and endeavours to wash his hands, he accidentally splashes water everywhere, dark blotches staining his grey suit. Looking in the mirror, all that he sees is the person he had tried to clear away two-and-a-half years ago, when the taste of heartbreak was still very much current in his mouth.

Pinks, reds, they all settle underneath his cheeks and no matter what he does, they refuse to go away. Taehyung doesn’t know how long he spends in the university’s restroom, but when his phone informs him of the 2:55 p.m. on display, he believes the ceremony must be starting in five minutes. 

Ten minutes. Ten minutes he wasted in a stall trying to steady his heartbeat and still his trembling limbs. Ten minutes he killed to avoid the person he had promised to face if the universe would allow him. She did and here he is. Thirty-seven years old and still fearful of what caused his downfall so long ago. 

Scary how a fling that lasted less than six months nags him two-and-a-half years later. 

There is a fleet moment in which he debates to leave, but Taehyung knows he can’t. There is a rope which from both sides tugs at him. One of the sides is his promise to Deiji to attend when no one else could. The other is the promise to himself to be confronted with the things he has put away for too long now. He being one of them. 

As such, Taehyung pushes through it and inhales a deep breath before he opens the restroom’s door and bolts his way upstairs, panic swelling inside at the thought of being late. 

Luckily for him, he isn’t as when he finally makes it to the wooden doors of the auditorium, the last few people enter. He joins them silently all the while scanning the rows of chairs for empty spots. He finds one at the far edge of the third row and after ten seconds of walking to it, he sits down, overseeing the entire stage and the microphone stand, the wine red theater drapes which have been shoved aside. Proudness blooms through a smile on his face at the thought of seeing Deiji there soon. 

At the thought of seeing him there soon too. 

The ceremony starts with the main speaker welcoming the audience, briefing them about the afternoon’s schedule and from there on Taehyung listens and listens. Many students take the stage one by one, listening to their supervisors and old teachers’ heartwarming words about them. Some Taehyung recognises from the few parties Deiji hosted, but most remain mysterious strangers to him. 

Roughly an hour later is when he finally hears her name, hands tingling from the many times he had to applaud—Deiji Kim. Still, when she walks down the stairs to the stage, heels clattering against the metal steps, his hands slap against one another with vigor and excitement, never the one to mask his emotion again. The speech one of her supervisors reads aloud from their piece of paper covers nothing but praise and respect for her, reviving the day she had first shown up being the youngest in a room of seventy. How uncertain she had come across as, how confident she is now. 

It fuels Taehyung’s pride. 

Hesitantly, he retrieves memories of his own younger days, the geek he was and the antisocial his fellow classmates must have flagged him as. How, driven by his parents’ pressure, he always weighted grades over his well-being and how years later that came back to bite him. Oh, how he wishes he could relate to Deiji’s wild stories about house parties and club sessions, tell her about similar ones from his past. But there is nothing to share, nothing that springs to mind as a sudden flashback. It is all blank, a void in which he secretly lingers for the chance to relive his younger years with a different mindset. 

But, as his therapist has stressed again and again, the past is the past and there is nothing Taehyung can do to change anything. 

All he can do is accept how things occurred, find peace in the despair of regret and move on. It isn’t his fault, after all.

Taehyung doesn’t know how long he listens for as student after student follows, flustered and a tidbit jittery being exposed to such a large crowd. Some laugh nervously as they stand there underneath the spotlights, some wipe away a threatening, diamond tear. Every now and then, he chuckles just like the rest of the audience at some of the silly jokes the speakers make. In a trance and with his buttocks growing sore from sitting for such a while, he is about to stand up for an eyeblink to force the blood down his legs when he freezes in his chair, heart sinking in his stomach when the next student is announced through the squeaking microphone. 

“Jeongguk Jeon,” the lady behind the desk calls for, shifting her head across the audience in search of this Jeongguk Jeon, the one who had earned a piece of Taehyung’s heart a couple years ago. The one who is still in possession of said piece.

And there he is, Jeongguk, walking down the stairs with confident strides, bowing appreciatively when he nears the stage and accepts his diploma with the same boyish smile on his face. As he stands there, listening to his speech, all Taehyung can do is stare at him and his ears turn deaf to whatever is being said. Two-and-a-half years have done him well, according to Taehyung’s faulty calculation he must be twenty-five. His heart beats in his chest, lungs pumping air and blood in his system and suddenly the room is too warm for his liking, suit too tightly enfolded around his body. 

He is wearing a black blouse that is neatly tucked in his business chic slacks, garment more formal than Taehyung has ever seen him donned in. From far up, he can eye some new tattoos cheekily greeting him underneath the sleeves of his blouse, adorning his fingers and the back of his hand. He looks good, healthy, and happy and that is all Taehyung could honestly ask for. 

Evocations of their shared intimacy, so many of them because in that void that makes up for Taehyung’s memory rest loads of his old memories which all include Jeongguk. Him and Jeongguk, when they were still together. Not officially, not by the strings of a relationship, but with their bodies spun around each other, limps entangled and hearts shared as they would lie on the furrowed sheets, chests rising and falling after yet another intense night. Sex at the start, lovemaking embarrasingly fast after.

God, he hasn’t forgotten about them and the magnificence of what they once had. 

Before it registers, Jeongguk is walking to the back of the stage where all students seemingly gather after their moment of fame as his must have come to an end and Taehyung lets out most of the tension as his body physically shrinks.

After another long-drawn-out hour, the ceremony has finally drawn to a close, people standing up and stretching their legs, partaking in chatter and trivial conversations of “How are you doing? Congratulations with your daughter, you must be a pleased parent,” before a guide leads most of them to another room where tables and drinks stand presented as they enter through the robust, heavy doors. So many ceiling lights emit whiteness on their faces. Taehyung is alone, so alone.

God, where is Deiji when he needs her?

Socialising is one of his qualities, but right now, leaning on one of the tables with his elbow, having no one to interact with as groups of people almost automatically magnetise each other into small talk, Taehyung debates that. 

With anxiety insinuating itself in him, he makes a determined move to leave the room in search of Deiji who had promised to accompany him for the rest of the afternoon when a hand on his shoulder and a wavered, “Taehyung-ssi?” stills and stops him. Jeongguk, he could recognise that pouty and high voice anywhere, the warmth of his palm that pierces through the layers of Taehyung’s suit, into the thinness of his skin and cruelly close to the walls of his heart.

“Jeongguk-ah,” Taehyung states, purposely avoiding any formal honorifics between them. When he turns around, his eyes fall on the piece of paper held between his armpit and bicep. In English he praises, “Congratulations on attaining your diploma.” 

“I did it,” Jeongguk says a bit reluctantly, a bit softly, smiling kindly. “Didn’t I?”

Taehyung doesn’t have to ask him what he means. “You did,” he nods his head. “Look at you now.” 

“It’s kind of you to attend Deiji’s graduation, she told me how sad she was that her parents couldn’t make it. Even mine came.” Taehyung wonders how Jeongguk manages to talk so easily, as if their last ever conversation never ended in heartbreak and a promise to never see each other again. Then again, this is still the same Jeongguk he remembers, the one who adapts to any situation or circumstance ever so effortlessly, or so it seems. “You look good, Taehyung-ssi—”

“Hyung.”

“You look good, hyung,” Jeongguk parrots, eyes roving across his face. “Older, but good.”

“So do you,” Taehyung compliments him back, refusing to hold eye-contact. “A new addition to your piercings, I see?” He adds as he takes notice of the lip ring that spikes through the right corner of Jeongguk’s bottom lip.

Giggling diffidently, Jeongguk’s cheeks bloom red. “I couldn’t help myself. You know how it gets after heartbreak—some dye their hair, and some… well, I guess get piercings. Nothing special, but I like how it looks. I have had it for two years or something now. Same for the tattoos on my hand and fingers.” Brandishing his fingers and wrist as he puckers the material of his blouse up, many small tattoos present themselves, one that stands out specifically under the room’s white light. “Kalon,” Jeongguk says out loud, as if Taehyung can’t read himself. “I don’t think I need to tell you the meaning or reason behind it.” 

Staring at the artwork right under his nose, Taehyung gulps the lump in his throat away. “It’s beautiful,” he stutters.

“Yeah? You think so? Thank you,” he grins as Taehyung nods. “My parents hate ‘em.”

“I don’t,” Taehyung states flatly, lifting one of the drinks to his lips as he sips.

“How have you been, hyung?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he answers. “I’ve been good. How have you been, Jeongguk-ah?”

Taehyung swears he sees a hint of sadness peeking through Jeongguk’s orbs. “I’ve been alright. I’m happy to have graduated, school definitely took a toll on me at some point. I...” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’m happy to see you with your diploma in your hand. You made it.”

That surfaces a dazzling smile on Jeongguk’s face, one that is so infectious it almost has got Taehyung beaming radiantly too. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he cocks his right hip up, the heel of his shoe scoffing at the floor as his eyes fly across the room and take in the faces of the strangers, wondering who they are, what their life stories sound like if he would ask. “I’m happy too, relieved mostly. I didn’t actually think this day would ever come, but here I am.”

“Here you are.” 

“Here we are.”

“Jeongguk…”

“Fuck, I don’t want to say this here, but I missed you like hell, Taehyung-hyung.” When Taehyung finally risks to dive into the black pupils, he doesn’t know how to get out, finds himself drowning until he is afraid he can’t breathe. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. For fuck’s sake, I thought of you this morning as I got ready for the graduation ceremony. Was hoping to see you here.” There is a female voice calling for him with, what seems, a yell of frustration and Jeongguk shakes his head concurrently as he spins around. “I have to get back to mom and dad, they can turn a bit…impatient when I leave them, but can we please continue this conversation? Hyung, I want us to have another conversation.”

He speaks with maturity, something that was not there before. It ushers Taehyung to accept the proposal and proceed their conversation elsewhere. But before he can even make out a single sound, Jeongguk witters on. 

“Please? I would love to grab dinner with you at this bistro I discovered not too long ago, but I promised to take mom and dad out for tonight. Tomorrow evening? Does that work for you?” Taehyung bobs his head in acceptance, albeit a bit hesitant. “I, uhm, I unblocked you. Some time ago. I’ll send you a message, is that okay with you?” Jeongguk fidgets with his fingers, nervous. “That is, if you still have the same phone number as all those years ago.” 

“I do,” Taehyung’s answer is firm and curt. “And you can send me a message.” 

“Thank you, Taehyung. I—I gotta go, but I’ll text you, I promise.”

“All good, Jeongguk-ah,” Taehyung waves him off, sending him a small curl of the lips as he watches Jeongguk bow and stroll to the other side of the room where his parents must be waiting for him.

It is then that Deiji comes to stand beside him, snickering at him as she pokes his side and talks to him about her plans for after graduation, a slight drunken slur to her words as she downs yet another glass of sparkling wine and sets it on the table with a clink.  

If she overheard anything of Taehyung and Jeongguk’s conversation, she chooses to stay silent. Taehyung can only thank her for that.

 


 

As promised, later that evening Taehyung receives a message from a number he never really deleted. Jeongguk it reads because although at the time, Taehyung could not bear to erase his contact forever, Jeonggukie sounded too hopeful, too optimistic for something that withered in sorrow and lost its petals of meteoric love. For a long while, he had prayed to hear something back from Jeongguk, even just a laconic text that would fill him in on Jeongguk’s whereabouts. If he was doing okay or not.

Sitting in the recliner in his living room with a piping hot cup of tea in one hand and his phone in the other, Taehyung leans back as he reads the text for all to hear. It doesn’t matter, Deiji is not home, anyway. 

 

café george in the centre of amsterdam tomorrow evening? (8:33 p.m.)

Who is this exactly? (8:34 p.m.)

you know exactly who i am (8:35 p.m.)

Café George sounds exciting (8:35 p.m.)
I’ll be there (8:35 p.m.)
Time? (8:35 p.m.)

i will book us a table for 6:30 ish (8:36 p.m.)

Lovely (8:36 p.m.)

 

All he hears is the sound of the clock ticking the hours away, heart drumming in his chest and redness settling underneath his cheeks. The thought of seeing Jeongguk tomorrow is an exciting one but Taehyung feels anxious mostly, unsure of what to expect and what to say when they will be taking their seats across from each other. 

Clad in his favourite set of pajamas, he yawns the minutes away, his active mind a recipe for a sleepless night.

Café George, huh? When Taehyung looks the name up he is met with a fancy looking interior, cream-coloured brick walls welcoming him before he has even set foot inside. Jeongguk seems to know his places and Taehyung wonders if he has taken other people there before. His lovers, perchance. Taehyung too wonders if he even has had past lovers, if he luxeriated himself in other faceless bodies, or if he fell in love with someone who wasn’t him. If he moved on before Taehyung could. He for sure missed him, Taehyung is incapable of stopping the iteration of those words, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

He cannot help but to hope it is tomorrow evening already, numerous questions burning the insides of his head.

 


 

The walk to the restaurant is an unnerving one. For a Dutch day in October, the weather is pleasantly calm, a soft breeze circumnavigating that crashes on his bare cheeks when he unwraps his scarf right before his hand pushes the door of the café open. 

It is 6:27 p.m. when he steps inside, eyes drifting around nervously in search of Jeongguk. He finds him sitting at an empty table in the deep ends of the place, oblivious to Taehyung’s arrival as he types away on his cellphone. The cap of his hoodie falls over the backrest of his chair, one of his legs bouncing on the floor, uptight. It is too far to be certain, but Taehyung thinks he can make out Jeongguk’s bottom lip pinched between his teeth, an anxious manner of his. Somehow, it permits some of Taehyung’s own nervousness to dissipate. 

Greeting the girl behind the bar, he promenades his way over to the table, considering different ways of announcing his arrival. Should he tap on Jeongguk’s shoulder and hope that it doesn’t startle him? Or should he clear his throat for a desperate hi to escape? 

Taehyung is awfully close to making the final decision when Jeongguk angles his head his way, eyebrows lifting up as if he can’t quite believe Taehyung actually came. “Hyung,” he says, but it comes out more as a squeak than a stable statement. “It’s good to see you again. Thank you for joining me for dinner tonight.” 

“Good to see you too,” Taehyung greets him back, shoving the chair back as he slips in the empty seat, but not before he undresses himself from his coat and tosses the piece of outerwear on the wooden rest. The café is filled to the brim and it makes it quite the challenge for them to hear each other over cacophonous prattle. “Thank you for inviting me.” 

Jeongguk smiles for a split second, but then his face contorts back to the previous furrow on his forehead. “Of course, not a problem.”

“So, what have you been up to these days?” 

Reaching for the menu, Taehyung scans the options, spasmodically daring to sneak a glimpse at Jeongguk’s face. When his tongue laps over his mouth, he sees the tongue piercing still in its full glory, the silver ring that has been bored in the corner of his bottom lip that moves along when he talks. For not more than the blink of an eye, Taehyung wonders if Jeongguk has really grown up, if he is still caged in that teenaged behaviour of his, but then he begins to speak and Taehyung feels bad for basing his opinion of on someone’s outer appearance. If anything, he should wonder if he has matured after all, if he’s still led by the idea that he is better than anyone else.

It is crystal clear he is not.

“Nothing much. Mostly surviving.” 

Looking at him with his nostrils flared, the corners of Taehyung’s mouth twitch. “That does not sound too optimistic.” 

Tilting his head heavenward, Jeongguk shrugs his shoulders. “It’s not like there was much to be optimistic about.” 

That, Taehyung recognises and he would be lying if he said it didn’t send a pang of pain down his body. “What about your life outside of school? What about student parties and going for drinks after school? Deiji told me she would do that. What about enthralling skies and cute dogs you pass on the streets? What about the small things in life? Weren’t those promising to you too?” 

Blinking at him, Jeongguk’s eyes flicker with old traces of hurt. As if they were tucked away for long and now resurface. “They weren’t, not when I had lost the most promising thing in my life at the time.” 

“Jeongguk…” 

“No, listen. I mourned for years, until I saw you yesterday. And it’s all my fault because I ruined what we had by being this childish piece of garbage to you. I allowed my doubts to overpower what I felt for you.” Felt, past tense. It should not hurt the way it does. “I could have told you how I felt and we could have worked it out because I know we would, but here we are—practically strangers who meet again after almost three years. Fuckin’ pathetic, Taehyung-hyung. I messed up and I experienced the consequences of my mistake.” 

“It was not just your fault,” Taehyung puts the card down, having made his choice. He gives Jeongguk a once-over before his eyes trail off to the other restaurant goers, their conversations seeming to be much more light and debonair, mayhaps idle too. “I should have treated you better.  Maybe not from the start, but as soon as something shifted between us.” 

The waitress interrupts their talk as she comes to stand beside them, asking them if they have made up their minds yet.

As they order, Taehyung’s eyes continue to draw back to Jeongguk’s face and how it changed. How his jaw is markedly leaner now, bonier as baby fat must have disappeared over time, how his cheekbones are more prominent now, jutting out, how the slope of his nose has grown into his face, no longer as big as it was before. But two things remain the same—those large, doe eyes that brighten when he passes on his order and the overbite of his two front teeth. 

He recollects his previous thoughts—when I see you again, I hope all that I memorised will be saved from fading away. That you are older and wiser but still carry the same goodwill and love similarly. 

Taehyung didn’t know it was possible, but as the woman repeats their orders before she walks away and Jeongguk nods with his eyes crinkled in moon-shape figures, smiling so incandescently it urges the sun to shine even brighter as it looms through the clouds, he sees someone who carries more love and goodwill than ever before. Despite everything, he is still the same Jeongguk who owned the biggest part of his heart. The same, but someone even better.

A second chance is what he accepts gratefully. The privilege has always been his.

“So what now?” Jeongguk is the first to lay the question bare on the table. 

What now? It renders Taehyung speechless for a cloud burst, rain suddenly trickling down the glass windows. His mind is canopied by many questions, but there is one that outshines the others. “How do you feel about me now?” 

“Hm?” Jeongguk’s pupils flare, the muscle in his jaw tightening. He pales. “What do you mean, hyung?”

“How do you feel about me?” Taehyung reiterates, pressing on. But Jeongguk stays silent, presumably seizing up as he prods a finger around the rim of his drink, staring absentmindedly. Growling under his breath in annoyance, Taehyung volunteers as the one to lead the conversation in effort to steer them somewhere, but then Jeongguk cuts him off, delineating what was once their presence and future, and now is simply their past. His fingers thread through the many strands of his hair that plummet as a fringe in front of his eyes, remotely blocking his sight, or so Taehyung thinks. 

If there was a flame between them before, he stubs it out with his words. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about you.” 

With a clipped tone, Taehyung nods mindlessly. “Alright, that’s fine. That’s—”

“No!” Jeongguk exclaims in a rush, eyes almost bulging out of his face. There is a hand that grips his wrist in panic, heat penetrating Taehyung’s skin. “That’s not what I mean. I-I just… I don’t know, I don’t want to be hurt again, hyung. There is so much to say—about how I feel about you, but it is all muddled up and I’m having a hard time making sense of it.” 

A couple comes to sit next to them, at the empty table and as a result, Taehyung lowers his voice when he encourages, “Then unveil your thoughts and help me understand you.” 

“I’ve never stopped loving you,” Jeongguk blurts. Most of his face blanches, but his cheeks wink at Taehyung with reds and pinks. The couple next to them cant their heads their way momentarily, giving them a look of concern before they resume whatever passionate conversation they must have been having before. “That’s the truth and that’s the core of most of ‘em.”

When you start to get to know someone, they tell you it is the start of a bath in their energy. There is a shell, an outer appearance, mostly a mask they wear before, but it often vanishes and what is left is the soul of someone. Taehyung thirsted Jeongguk’s body at first, the hard set of muscles of his abdomen, his lithe waist and strong thighs. He lusted after Jeongguk’s stamina and his beauty. But when he got to know him, he felt a joint of their souls, those being on the same wavelength at the time and craving to interconnect. It had been scary, so scary that they both messed up. He loved Jeongguk with more than his avid eyes. He loved him with his heart.

He still loves him with his heart.

“What do you suggest?” Taehyung speaks slowly, calculatedly and careful not to come across as too frankly. It feels like this is his last chance. 

“What do you suggest?” Jeongguk throws back at him. Touché. It is only fair after Taehyung did not acknowledge his love confession. 

“I was wounded in the past, but I’m willing to give this another chance. I’ve always secretly thought you were the one for me,” Taehyung, as a result, reveals, brushing Jeongguk’s fingers that are still curled around his wrist with his other hand, heart speeding up its pace. He feels warm, but it is a good type of warmth. One that mirrors a homey, crackling fireplace during snowy winter days. “Only if you are willing to give this a chance too, by all means.”

Their food is being served on their table. Steam travels upward as it evaporates into thin air and Taehyung blows lightly. 

“I went back home each summer,” Jeongguk then whispers, playing with his silverware, slicing it through the ends of his napkin. “Each time my mom saw me, she begged me to contact you. I guess she saw how broken I was left behind. I know I told you some things shouldn’t be fixed as there is a chance they will return even more broken, but I am now of the opinion that it is always good to try. If you do not shoot, you do not score, y’know?” The paper rips apart, but Jeongguk doesn’t stop. “I like to believe I’ve matured, that I’ve grown as a person. It is the only thing that kept me going for years. I want us to try, hyung—” Swallowing, Jeongguk meets his eyes. “—but I’m terrified and I don’t know where to start.” 

His thumb circles around the skin between his fingers and Taehyung lightly scrapes his blunt nail across the blue and purple veins that protrude from underneath the back of his hand. “Do you trust me to lead us the way?” 

Over candlelight dinner, Jeongguk gifts him a piece of his trust. “I do.” 

It is not all, but Taehyung is more than willing to accept it for now. 

 


 

The walk back home is a refreshing one.

They chit-chat about everything and anything, laughter filling the cold air as they are mindful to avoid the puddles that have been created in each loose tile. The scent they breathe in smells after the rain, a petrichor Taehyung has always enjoyed. An overcast sky that hovers above them doesn’t bother them the slightest as their own happiness wins the battle against it. 

It is after fifteen minutes of ambling almost aimlessly, nearing Taehyung’s home, that Jeongguk shyly holds his hand and interlaces their fingers hesitantly. As if to test the waters. “Is this okay?” He still asks, looking for consent. 

Taehyung nods in confirmation but doesn’t say anything in return. Like that, they continue their trip, shoes clicking against the cobblestone pavements until they morph into flagstones when they enter a small park at the side of the road. Some of the benches they pass are occupied by couples pecking each other on the cheek or resting their head on their partner’s shoulder in a loving manner. The sight makes Taehyung yearn for a similar feeling. It has been a while since he has been delighted in intimacy. He likes to believe Jeongguk was the last one.

As abruptly as they had entered the park, they exit the park too and then, unexpectedly after ten more minutes, they reach the corner of Taehyung’s street, a light drizzle crashing down from the thick, grey clouds above. 

“So, I guess I will see you soon?” Jeongguk brings out with a lilt to his voice, words dipped in uncertainty. He just stands there with his back rested against the brick wall and it is as if all the butterflies are awoken from an almost-three-year-long sleep, fluttering the inclement weather away. “I will text you, okay. I—” If there was more he wanted to say, it is left in the back of his throat when Taehyung scoots closer, the palm of his hand cupping Jeongguk’s cheek. In such close proximity, they can inhale each other’s air, warm breath ghosting across the dips and swells of their faces. “Taehyung, what are you—”

“Can I kiss you?” Taehyung asks, although it comes more out as a desperate request than a question. “I know we need to start over and try again, get to know each other, but can I kiss you? I want to kiss you, so badly, Jeongguk-ah, but only if you are okay with it.” 

“I’m okay with it,” Jeongguk is fast to push out, eyes following Taehyung’s each and every move with diligence. “Kiss me, please.” 

So, Taehyung does. Their lips meet in a reluctant brush of skin on skin at first, their breaths spiraling around one another. The hip of the roof they stand underneath juts out enough to shield them from the heavy downpour. When their lips finally crash against each other, the air is knocked out of Taehyung. Here he is, a sloppy two-and-a-half years after their farewell with the man of his dreams, kissing below the eaves of a rooftop that is inhabited by someone he doesn’t know. Jeongguk’s lips are softer, plusher than he remembers them to be and there is a desperation interlaced in the way he kisses back, a misery he can finally relinquish. 

His hands find grip around Jeongguk’s waist, the latter’s around Taehyung’s nape as he tugs him even closer, angling their chins so that they can deepen the kiss before a timid tongue pries his lips open, licking the insides of his mouth with a curl of the tip before it finds Taehyung’s own. A slow dance is what they partake in, sensual and exploratory.

Seasons have waved him hi and goodbye many times. It has been so long since he last kissed him, too long. Now, they are simply learning about each other’s bodies again. What they still like and what is newfound. 

When they part, Jeongguk’s face lights up and then he places one more peck at the centre of Taehyung’s crimson cheek. “Goodnight, hyung. Text me when you’re home.” 

It is safe to say, Taehyung does text him when he finally enters his apartment with a flushed face and a racing mind, exorbitant amounts of love creeping inside him and residing in his heart as he wiggles out of his shoes and unzips his coat, inhaling the vanilla that discharges from the incense sticks in the corner of his hallway. His effervescent spirit is a brilliant one and it leaves him skittish and powered with love, operated by the hope that this time, he and Jeongguk can make it work.

Deiji must notice the blossom of rose petals on his cheeks, his sudden vivacity when she asks, more likely states, “Jeongguk?” 

How incredible it feels to nod his head and confess, “It’s always been him.” 

 


 

It started as a spontaneous idea to visit Jeongguk as a surprise, but now Taehyung finds himself located in front of Jeongguk’s apartment block, not too sure if he is still living here after the many years they let pass when he presses the bell of the door system. 

Without any comment or greeting, the door opens with a buzz and Taehyung is sceptical at first to enter the hallway, but then eventually decides against his uncertainty and climbs up the stairway. The trip to Jeongguk’s room is silent at first, Taehyung is deep in thought when two people suddenly come to a halt in front of him, blocking his way from walking up. As he pushes his eyes up from the sight of his shoes, he instantly recognises one of the men—Jimin, Jeongguk’s alleged best friend.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks them flatly, cocking a brow. 

“You’re Taehyung, right?” One of them, Jimin, questions. Taehyung bobs his head. “Okay, then I have a question for you.” 

“Go ahead,” Taehyung gestures to him to continue, crossing his arms as he leans his weight on one leg. 

“What are your intentions with Kook?” Straight to the point, a tidbit blunt. Rude, if he did not know these people were Jeongguk’s dearest friends, the ones that must have picked up his shattered heart and nurtured it for him until he was ready to move on and move away. The ones that must have called Taehyung many names, carry a dislike towards him as they arguably regard him as the enemy. This Jimin boy certainly does not equivocate. “What are you doing here?”

But Taehyung is not the one to retreat in fear when one serves him something he is unfamiliar with. Jimin, if this man even is named Jimin, may be scowling at him with eyes that glint with forgotten anger, mouth set in a hard line, a brow that quirks up in awaitance of what Taehyung has to say, he refuses to let it get to him. If one thing is clear, it is that he wants Jeongguk and doesn’t let anyone baffle him. Ever since he switched jobs to become an executive assistant for Seokjin’s newly-founded company, nothing has managed to discombobulate him. 

“I am here to see him and spend time with him,” he tells both men calmly. 

Jimin makes a sound of declination, declaring, “Wrong answer. You can’t move past us.”

“What is this?” Irritation begins to simmer in his stomach, jaw grounding. “Some silly game? Who are you even to begin with?” 

“Jimin,” Jimin says, bowing in politeness, much against Taehyung’s expectations. “And this is Hoseok—my boyfriend.” And oh, Taehyung remembers the name Hoseok and how he was introduced as Jimin and Jeongguk’s friend who, together with Jimin, could not make it to the club that one night. At least, that is what Taehyung thought. He didn’t know Hoseok was Jimin’s boyfriend. That and Jeongguk’s supposedly best friend, or something. 

“Alright, and what exactly are you—”

“Jeongguk wants to stay here. He always told us he would move back home as soon as he had graduated, but all of a sudden he doesn’t want to leave the Netherlands and I think it’s because of you,” Jimin ejaculates in a haste, narrowing his eyes at Taehyung. “I think he can manage it, all he needs is a working permit, but I don’t want him to go through what he went through again. Taehyung-ssi, you don’t understand, he was literally—”

“I will take care of him,” as he says it ever so determinedly, Hoseok’s brows lift in expectation of what else Taehyung has to disclose. “I want to take care of him. I-I—I don’t want to lose him again, I promise you.” 

“You broke him,” Hoseok begins and Taehyung had not anticipated such a kind, honey-smooth voice to come out of such an angry-looking man. Then again, this man, Hoseok, seems to hide a lot beneath the infuriated mask of his and Taehyung would not be surprised if he was a paragon of virtue underneath. “But I’m positive he broke you too. In the end, all you did was break each other. How can we be sure that that won’t happen again?” 

Everything falls silent around him and suddenly, all eyes are on him. It is now or never.

“Because I love him and I wasn’t ready to tell him that before, but I am now. Order me to scream it from the rooftop of my building and I will. I am in love with Jeongguk and there is nothing nor nobody who can stop me this time. I am determined to fix what has been broken.”

“Hyung?” It then sounds from the other stairway above them, the one Taehyung was blocked from ascending. “Taehyung, is that you?” 

“That’s our cue to get moving,” Jimin mumbles before he makes his way past Taehyung. Adds, “You’re off the hook for now. Don’t fuck this up.” And then the both of them bolt down the stairs and in the background, Taehyung can register the weak sound of the door opening and closing, but it is drowned out by the white noise in his own mind, the throb of his heart and the flutters of his heartstrings.

“It’s me, Kook-ah,” he yells from below, finally working his legs up the stairs until he is met with Jeongguk’s searching look. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jeongguk greets back, smiling abashedly and lopsidedly. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Let’s go inside?” 

Taehyung smiles back, petting his hair and ruffling his fingers through the strands. Two weeks since they reconciled and crossed paths again. What was once a dalliance flowers now as a growing romance. What perished as a tragedy is now merely prosperity. They were always meant to be, they just needed to find themselves first. 

“Let’s,” he says as he allows Jeongguk to escort him to the entrance of his apartment, hopeful of the future. 

 


 

“Hyung, how do we move on from all of this?” Jeongguk dares to ask as they are hunched over the window board, overseeing the city’s night sky. Stars twinkle at them, Taehyung likes to believe they cheer the two lovers whose heads peek above the board as they point at rattling airplanes and flickering planets. Jeongguk is thoughtlessly tracing patterns on Taehyung’s arm, skin breaking out in goosebumps where he touches and strokes. 

The question has never been an easier one. “Together.” 

“It will take time,” Jeongguk warns before he turns to look at Taehyung. “I understand if you are not willing to wait for me.”

Cuddling his cheek with his fingers, Taehyung blinks at him slowly. “Remember what you called us back then? Before everything went downhill.” When Jeongguk doesn’t respond, presumably taking a trip down his memory lane, Taehyung lends him a helping hand by outing the answer. “Dalliance—you called what we had a dalliance. In a way you were right because what we had refused to reach deeper, more intimate levels. I want that to change, I want to get to know you and your thoughts. I know you have a unique outlook on life, I want to hear about it. But more importantly, I want to love you. For all I know, I’ve never stopped myself too.” 

Giggling, Jeongguk slaps him lightly on the back. “Such a sap, hyung. God, can’t believe I’m the anti-romantic, mature one now.” 

“Wait until you really start to get to know me,” Taehyung jokes, chortling. There is an itch to caress Jeongguk’s cheeks with his lips, but Taehyung can wait. He wants to wait. That one kiss in the rain served as a compensation for years of suffering for the both of them. One day they will be intimate again, underneath the sheets and preferably many other places too. The bathroom, the kitchen, anywhere their love will drag them to. 

But that day is not tonight and Taehyung is more than okay with that. Patience is not something he is necessarily outstanding at, but for Jeongguk, he is willing to learn. Gosh, he is willing to do so many things for Jeongguk. For the future them too. 

And he is not the only one.

Jeongguk smiles and says, “I am looking forward to that day.” 

 

Notes:

I guess this is it. Thank you so much for all the love, kudos and comments this story has received. I am so appreciative of each one of you and I hope you are satisfied with the ending. Please, vote on my Twitter account whether you woud like to see a sequel of this story. I am thinking of writing one in the future, just don’t know if anyone would ever be interested! Also, my curiouscat if you wanna chat or have any questions! ୭

Small edit: if you're new here and finished the story, I would appreciate it so much if you could leave a comment with your thoughts! Thank you so much in advance <3

The second part is finally published. Feel free to check it out!

Notes:

That’s it. That’s the ending.

First of all, thank you so much to those who helped me write this by continuously liking and commenting on this fic, or by sending me sweet messages on Twitter or Curious Cat. Thank you for being so kind and helping me become a better writer. Your engagement truly motivates us writers to continue our work(s)!

Then, thank you so much to my sweet friends who always cheered on me from the sideline and never failed to assist me when I experienced a writer’s block. Once again, there is a poll on my Twitter, please leave behind your thoughts on a potential sequel of this fic! Don’t hesitate to message me on Twitter or somewhere else, I’m always excited to make new friends or talk to kind strangers on the internet about Bangtan or other topics.

Lastly, I hope you will proceed to follow me and my future works, stay tuned because I’ve got something in mind!

So much love for now.

✧*̣̩⋆̩☽⋆゜M.

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