Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air is as dry as sunburn while it smells like asphalt. The basketball court echoes across the campus; the squeak of sneakers, rubber on polished wooden floors and occasionally a whistle from the coach.

Unfortunately for Taehyung, the sound doesn’t stop. It doesn’t leave, even out here where he is.

Taehyung is currently sitting at a table in the campus courtyard with his laptop open as he half listens to his best friend, Jimin, who is standing up as he explains something important for his oral presentation tomorrow.

The laptop’s screen in front of him stares back at him and Taehyung can only wish his essay could write itself.

He suddenly hears a faint ‘hello’ with fingers snapping and just like that, he’s brought back to reality.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Jimin says, looking half annoyed and half unamused. “This is important, Tae. You know I love a good presentation.”

Taehyung feels a puddle of guilt drop to his stomach. “Sorry, Minie. I heard the first half, thought how great it was and then looked at my blank page to my essay that’s due tomorrow and now I’m in between panicking and thinking maybe I shouldn’t even start at this point.”

“Tae, c’mon. Let it marinate.” Jimin offers him a kind smile yet all Taehyung could see is the hint of pity behind it—whether or not there was.

“I’ve been letting it marinate,” he glances at the clock on his laptop before finishing, “for twenty minutes. It’s pathetic.”

Jimin shakes his head in support, “It’s not pathetic. You can’t rush art or it just won’t be good.” His best friend shrugs, “you can do it. You’re probably just having writer's block.”

Or maybe my mind’s already losing it.

“Maybe I’ll just skip tomorrow again.” He thinks out loud, partially meaning it and fully wanting to.

“Taehyung, no.” Jimin disagrees, firmly as he takes a seat across from his friend. “You know I love you babe but you’re barely passing class as it is.”

Jimin can’t hide the truth from Taehyung, no use in doing that when the younger one knows it himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not enough, anyway.

“I know, I know.” He dismisses the thought, knowing Jimin was right. He shouldn’t.

“Do you want me to help you?” Jimin offers, hoping it could make Taehyung feel better.

However, Taehyung shakes his head in disapproval. “No, that’s okay. Maybe I’ll just finish–or, well, start tonight. Thanks for the offer, though. You know I appreciate you.”

“You better,” Jimin teases, playfully rolling his eyes with a cheeky smile sitting on his lips. “Let me know if you made any progress, yeah? If you don’t, we’ll work on it tomorrow morning.”

The younger nods, replying, “thank you.”

As Jimin picks up his iced coffee from the table, he asks, “how are you doing in your other classes, by the way?”

“The same.” Taehyung shrugs, as if he doesn’t care. “It doesn’t matter. Barely passing is still passing.” He defends.

“But we both know you’re smarter than that. You have a lot of potential, Tae. You don’t want that to go to waste.”

It already has, he thinks.

“It’s fine.” Taehyung waves it off, insisting but Jimin doesn’t stop there.

The older hesitates, slowly letting out his words. “This might be a stupid thing to say but maybe you could ask Jeongguk for help?”

Taehyung tries to open his mouth, already knowing what to say but Jimin doesn’t let him just yet.

In the background, he hears a basketball thudding again and again. The sound slips into the conversation as if it was a third presence, haunting him.

“Hear me out. I know you hate the man for whatever your reason may be that I have no knowledge of whatsoever but you can’t deny the fact that he’s literally one of the top students in our grade and most specifically, in class. He’s even the captain of the basketball team. Quarterback or whatever it’s called.”

Taehyung slightly squints his eyes at his friend, “first of all, no. Not Quarterback, that term’s for football. Secondly, it was completely irrelevant to bring up his athletic status and most importantly, I would rather eat bricks than ask for his help.”

“C’mon, at least you know he works hard.” Jimin says, adjusting himself on the bench.

“He works loudly,” Taehyung corrects. “You can’t go three steps without hearing his name or seeing his fuckass face. It’s annoying.”

It’s not untrue in the slightest, really. Everybody saw Jeongguk as the golden boy–and he is. There’s endless posters with Jeongguk’s face plastered all over the campus. There’s even one right there outside the gym, clear to Taehyung’s view. The athlete has his arms crossed over his jersey as his gaze stays strong, as if he was untouchable.

And Taehyung thinks maybe the reason he couldn’t focus is because all he wants to do is mess up that stupid face that keeps staring at him.

Jeongguk was the kind of person who was naturally, simply good at everything. The kind of person who always wins as if it were inevitable and everybody constantly praises him for it. Even so far as the professors, who say his name like a goddamn prayer.

And Taehyung? Well, Taehyung already hated Jeongguk before he got his golden boy status and now he loathes him for it even more.

“If you had even half his energy, you’d be up there with him.” Jimin teases, shuffling his papers.

“If I had his energy, I’d need therapy.” Taehyung replies, placing an elbow to the table as he rests his chin on his palm.

Jimin scrunches his nose, “you already do.”

Taehyung scoffs, dramatically. “You’re so rude.”

“Just truthful.”

“I do not need therapy.” He rolls his eyes, eyes glancing back down to the empty screen on his laptop every now and then.

“Whatever you say, Taetae.” Jimin responds, sounding as if he didn’t believe Taehyung and the younger was about to say something to convince him.

He doesn’t get the chance to, hearing a new voice into the mix–interrupting them. A voice so infuriating, Taehyung sometimes wishes he’d have selective hearing.

“I see you’re still wasting space, Kim.”

Taehyung’s eyes were so fixed on the blank page that he didn’t even notice the basketball players were walking out of the gym–and now, standing to his left is none other than Jeon Jeongguk.

Speak of the devil.

The courtyard’s noises drop a few decibels as if someone turned down the volume to the place. A couple of heads swivel their way without even meaning to and as if Taehyung wasn’t already having a frustrating day, he thinks of course it’s just his luck Jeongguk came to bother him even more.

Taehyung only lets out a long exhale through his nose before putting on a fake smile while turning his head slowly, looking up to the athlete.

Jeongguk is standing about two steps away from him. Naturally, he’s wearing a basketball jersey while his gym bag slings off his right shoulder as his towel is still hanging around his neck.

His dark hair is damp and his sweat is clear as day from his forehead to his neck, a few dropping down but the rest stay put.

“Jeon,” Taehyung’s tone is flat, the syllable shaped like a smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you outside your own fan club today.”

Truthfully, they’ve both learned not to care about their words when the other is involved–hell, most of the time, they don’t even think about what they do say–they just want it to hurt.

“Didn’t expect to see you outside detention,” Jeongguk fires back, almost lazily.

Taehyung snorts, “wow, that really hit. Did you rehearse that between free throws?”

“‘Course not, I actually use my time to win. Hey, you should try that sometime.”

“I’d rather die.”

“You’re halfway there already, judging by your grades.” Jeongguk comments, pushing his damp hair back.

Jimin mutters under his breath, “here we go again,” praying that the two don’t go too far. Although, his hope lessens each day at that, knowing the line has always been crossed.

A moment passes, Jeongguk steps closer as his shadow slides over the table like a stain. A stain Taehyung can’t seem to remove.

Jeongguk’s not looming, he doesn’t have to.

His voice drops into a cleaner edge, “still blaming everyone for your own screw-ups, Kim?”

Taehyung tilts his chin up, the smile he has on doesn’t reach his eyes. “Still pretending you’re better than everyone else, Jeon?”

“I’m better than you, that I don’t have to pretend.”

“You know, you don’t have to talk either yet here we fucking are.”

Jeongguk’s lips flatten as his gaze goes darker. The gym back on his shoulder suddenly feels like it’s holding him back. He then decides to let it fall. The thud isn’t that loud but it’s still heavy, causing a few more heads to turn their direction.

They’ve always been known to catch everyone’s attention.

“You just love hiding yourself and pretending you have nothing to lose so you run your damn mouth.” He retorts, resting his hands on the table and Taehyung thinks he just hates having to look up at him.

“You’re the one who came up to me, asshole.” Taehyung fires back, “You’re really committed to that god complex cosplay, hm?”

“Better than your victim complex, don’t you think?”

Taehyung scoffs, “excuse me? You really overestimate yourself.”

“God, you’re fucking irritating.” Jungkook says, quiet enough to be private but not low enough to be missed by the people listening.

“And you’re a walking disappointment.”

“Mhm, you talking about yourself, Kim? How many personalities do you have again?”

“You know what, at least I have one. You mistake yours for arrogance.”

“Guys can we just–” Jimin tries, but he doesn't succeed.

Something about Jeongguk just irks the hell out of Taehyung—he despises him. He hates the way Jeongguk stands over him like he owns the air Taehyung breathes, every inch of him carved out of control. That once calming voice that used to quiet every noise in Taehyung’s head now only makes his blood burn.

Every word that leaves Jeongguk’s mouth feels like knives, cutting deeper into him and Taehyung can’t stop himself from throwing back his own daggers. He’s sick of the way Jeongguk looks at him, sick of how he always seems untouched, untouchable, above it all. He hates him for knowing exactly how to make him flinch.

“All that talent, Jeon, and you still look like you’re trying to prove something to a mirror.”

“Better than not giving a fuck anymore because you’ve already given up.”

Those words hit him like pieces of glass to his body. It always hurts when it comes from Jeongguk. He never yells, he just means what he says.

“You’re as pathetic as they come.”

“Me? At least I don’t talk like the world owes me sympathy.”

“Maybe that’s because you think it owes you everything when you literally already have everything at your fucking feet. Poor Jeongguk with his mother’s praises and his daddy’s big fat wallet.”

Jeongguk pokes his tongue to his cheek, laughing under his breath. A sharp exhale from anything but humor. “You really think being miserable makes you deep?”

“No but do you think being perfect makes you loved?” Taehyung tilts his head, fluttering his lashes in a way that makes Jeongguk want to punch him.

And he just might.

Jeongguk’s fists press tighter as they turn white, he’s just holding himself back now. 

“Every time you speak, Kim, it sounds like a cry for help no one’s answering.”

That crossed the line, as if it wasn’t already intense–that pushed it because it wasn’t just the words. It was how slow Jeongguk said it, wanting him to comprehend each word before the sentence jabs him straight to his soul. 

Taehyung gets up from his seat, meeting Jeongguk at their height. This felt much better for him.

“You’d rather choke on your pride than admit you’re just scared, scared that people won’t like you anymore.” The next line, he whispers, only for Jeongguk to hear. “Seems like you’ve grown to care more about what the people see than the man himself in the mirror.”

They’re close now, too close. Almost touching shoulder to shoulder as their noses are inches away from each other but their eyes never move anywhere else–they just stare at the other, nothing but hatred covers their gazes.

Steam was practically floating above them with how much fire they were burning.

But of course, it wasn’t even over just yet.

“You act like pain makes you understandable but you just ruin everything to prove you’re already broken and absolutely nothing can fix that.”

Oh.

Taehyung would never admit it out loud but Jeongguk was right.

“Get the fuck out of my face, Jeon.”

Seems like they both have had enough crossing the line.

Jeongguk only scoffs and because of how close they are, Taehyung can feel it and all he wants to do is wash his face, washing off the air that Jeongguk blew to him.

That’s what he thinks yet he can’t even move away from the other.

It’s Jeongguk who leans down to grab his bag from the ground, eyes never leaving Taehyung’s.

His hand tightens the grip on the strap of his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder again. “You’re gonna rot here, Kim.”

“Guess I’ll have company since you never fucking leave anyway.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jeongguk says, finally beginning to back away, “we both know you won’t be worth it.”

Taehyung only rolls his eyes, not responding, not even looking at Jeongguk while he walks away.

He then turns to the direction of his best friend, sitting back down. Jimin lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “You guys are actual demons.”

“He started it, it’s not my fault.”

“You both always go too far.”

“It doesn’t matter, they’re just words.”

“If it didn’t matter, you’d leave each other alone. Clearly there’s a lot more going on than just a ‘friendly’ feud.” Jimin emphasises on the word.

“Are you suggesting anything?”

Jimin shakes his head, knowing better. Knowing Taehyung won’t tell him a word of his history with Jeongguk. “Nope.”

“Good, it’s settled.”

His eyes flicker back to the laptop, the cursor just blinks, waiting for him to start–to care.

He doesn’t.

At least not right away.

Seconds, minutes and an hour or two pass by. The breeze surrounding him still feels charged, like static left over from a storm that doesn’t know itself if it’s over or not, like it wants to stay.

That’s what Jeongguk’s words are doing to him–they’re lingering, unwantedly. Somewhere inside his fucked mind he hears it over and over again, in Jeongguk’s voice which for some reason makes it a million times worse for Taehyung.

You’re gonna rot here.

Taehyung hates that they stay afloat, that the pain stays. It’s inevitable and he can’t blame anybody but himself for letting it go on like this. For provoking first at times and for the moments he didn’t, for continuing the hurt.

The bitterness remains within him on top of every other emotion he feels to the point it’s overwhelming and sometimes he can’t tell if he’s just feeling everything at once or if he’s become numb to it.

He despises the fact that even now, the blaze lingers beneath his skin.

Taehyung’s body was gasoline and Jeongguk was the spark that made them both burn.

Maybe it was the rage flowing through his body, maybe it was simply the spur of the moment. But all of a sudden, Taehyung just starts typing.

Not because he’s oh so suddenly inspired or because the essay had just clicked for him in his head– but because he absolutely refuses to let Jeongguk’s voice eat him up and be the last thing that occupies his mind.

If he doesn’t at least try to distract himself, he knows he’ll be ending up wide awake tonight just replaying their argument earlier again and again.

He’ll probably get mad about it again only for it to turn into sadness a few moments later and then he’ll feel regret take over his body and eventually, the tears will start dropping and they won’t know how to stop.

So he forces himself to think–about something, anything else, for his essay. Anything that isn’t Jeon Jeongguk.

For a while, there’s not a sound coming out of Taehyung. Just the clicks and clacks from the keyboard under his fingers as he types quickly. Some words are misspelled, some aren’t finished sentences and some are just run on thoughts.

No structure, no plan and it’ll be obvious to anyone who reads it right now. Of course he’ll be editing the paper later on again but for now, he lets his mind run. It’s messy, rushed and a tad bit aggressive from his anger hanging on from earlier. But hey, at least he got to writing.

His best friend just sits with him, observing him every now and then before going back to mind his own business and just waiting for him to finish, or at the very least, speak again.

Jimin doesn’t say anything until almost an hour later wherein Taehyung finally looks up at him, a blank look upon his face.

“Well,” Jimin says eventually, “looks like rage is something that motivates you.”

“Shut up.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, picking up Jimin’s drink and taking a sip for himself. “If I stop, I’ll lose it.”

“Lose ideas for your essay or your sanity?” Jimin teases, snickering.

“Both, actually.”

That makes Jimin laugh softly, he’s no longer tense. It helps that he’s not between two very aggressive people arguing anymore.

The sun slowly goes down with every minute until it disappears for the remainder of the night. A bunch of students begin to leave the courtyard, leaving them alone.

Then, Jimin gets up from his seat and takes a peep at Taehyung’s laptop screen. “Wow, you’re about halfway there, right?”

“Mhm, guess so.” Taehyung replies in a monotone, trying not to lose his focus. “Guess spite works better than coffee.”

“You don’t even like coffee anyway.”

“Point stands.”

Jimin starts gathering his papers to prepare for when they’re ready to go later, “Hey.” 

“Yeah?” Taehyung replies, packing his stuff inside his bag.

“You know, in a way…” He slowly starts, “I guess you could say Jeongguk did end up helping you.”

Unamused, Taehyung doesn’t react to it. He continues typing on his laptop. “I will throw my shoe at you.”

“Tsk, so violent.” He responds, finishing his drink.

“The only way Jeongguk can help me is if he stays away from me and it seems like he never can.”

“It’s not like you do either. You guys are like magnets.” Taehyung grimaces as he hears Jimin’s response.

“Please, can we not talk about Jeongguk right now.”

“Is it not helping you feel more rage, hence helping you write more?” Jimin asks, part of him meant it as a tease but another part of him questions it seriously.

“No.”

“Hm.”

They stay that way a while longer, Jimin organizing his notes and going through them again once he realizes they could be there for another while as Taehyung types away. The courtyard lights eventually flick on, bathing the place in a yellow hue.

When Taehyung finally stops, his wrists ache while his eyes sting from staring at the bright screen for too long. The essay still needs to be edited, written better into actual full sentences but at least for now, it exists.

Taehyung feels a sense of relief flow through him.

“Okay, I’m done for now. It’s good enough.” Taehyung says, shutting his laptop down and closing it so he can pack his things in his bag.

Jimin glances at the time, “it’s getting late. Want me to walk you home?”

“I don’t live in the woods, Jimin, I think I’ll be fine.” Taehyung replies, zipping his bag shut.

“With how often you isolate yourself, I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did.” Jimin earns himself a side eye from his best friend as they start walking out of the big university.

“Fine, fine. Walk me halfway, then you go home yourself and don’t worry about your presentation. You’ll be fabulous and do great.” He reassures and Jimin smiles at that.

“Okay.” Jimin accepts.

They begin down the path that leads out of the campus and eventually out of the university buildings. Their shadows stretch ahead of them, long and uneven.

“You know,” Jimin says, carefully. “You two really need to take it down a notch.”

“He started it.”

Jimin snorts, “yeah, that’s real mature, Tae.”

“Thank you, I try really hard.” Taehyung slightly bows, playfully.

“I’m just saying, you guys are always trying to one up each other. Like…”

“Like what?” Taehyung asks, curious.

Jimin sighs, “like you’re trying to see who can cut deeper without using your hands.”

“It’s mutual.” Taehyung tries to justify, a long exhale goes through his nose.

“That does not at all make it better.”

“Didn’t say it did. I’m saying we both do it, we both hurt each other. We’re both in the wrong but we’re too deep into it to take everything we’ve said for the last two years back.”

“Okay but that just means you’re aware of it. You never tell me about what really happened between you too. Suddenly, he was just out of your life and it was such a weird switch from lov–” Jimin pauses, being cautious about his words. “From him being a big aspect of your life before to now, despising each other. And the funny thing is, he’s still a big aspect in your life. Just in a hateful way.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, we’ve changed. He’s the way he is right now, arrogant and cocky and never thinking about anyone else but himself.”

“Ever think you guys have changed for the worse only in each other’s view because you’ve grown to hate each other? It’s not like he’s different to me now.”

Taehyung doesn’t really know how to reply to that, how to justify his words. Maybe it’s just not justifiable.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. This is our dynamic now and it’s fine.”

“Whatever you say,” he singalongs. “Just…just don’t let it eat you alive. Don’t let it get to you so much.”

“Yes, Minie. I know, don’t worry about it.”

Of course even if he was aware of what was better to do or not, it wasn’t that easy to stop his mind from replaying Jeongguk’s most hurtful words ever so randomly.

And he doesn’t know how to stop it either.

They keep walking until their destination. Until then, Taehyung watches the cars go by one after the other as the headlights keep flashing across his face like little brief moments of certain clarity.

There’s silence that gathers upon them but it’s not awkward because it’s Jimin. Jimin is like sunlight to Taehyung.

Taehyung used to say that about Jeongguk but he would mean it in a very different way. Jeongguk to him wasn’t just sunlight per se. He was warmth–he used to be Taehyung’s warmth.

The kind that didn’t just touch the skin but settled somewhere way deeper underneath, touching him like a hug inside his body. 

While Jimin’s soft sunlight felt like safety, Jeongguk’s warmth felt like home.

He’s taken out of his thoughts when Jimin breaks the comfortable silence, “this is me. I gotta go this way.” He nods to the direction.

They stop their tracks, sharing a quick but wholesome hug.

“Okay, get home safe.” Taehyung sends him a tired smile.

“You tell me if you need any help with your essay, yeah?”

“Don’t think I will, but I’ll be fine.” He reassures.

Jimin offered but truthfully, he already knew Taehyung was gonna decline. The boy always acts so independent, never accepting help from others.

Even when perhaps he may need it.

Jimin gives him one last look, one with a mixture of concern and adoration. “Goodnight, Tae.”

“G’night, Minie.”

They separate their ways and Taehyung goes on to walk the rest of the way alone and the silence settles back in, one that was heavier since there’s no one with him to fill it.

Unexpectedly, he hears a dribble of a basketball nearby. It’s at a park where there were what seems to be teenagers playing a game by themselves, cheering with laughter.

Taehyung’s mind couldn’t help but go back to Jeongguk and his chest starts to ache yet he can’t do much but to let it. 

His grip tightens on his bag strap, his eyes landing on the cracked pavement below as the lights above him flicker once, twice.

As he walks through the quiet night, his mind drifts to the thought of how noisy it’s about to be.

It takes Taehyung another 20-25 minutes later for his house to be right in front of him. The lights outside are turned on but they flicker once or twice before holding steady like it’s actually part of the household–as if it has to remind itself to stay alive.

Taehyung pauses at the gate just long enough to feel his air leave his lungs and not come back while something drops to the pit of his stomach.

He’s getting ready to face the unwanted familiarity going on inside the house.

With one final exhale, he gathers up just enough energy to walk forward and slide his key into the lock, unlocking the door and being met with the smell of dinner.

There are shoes lined up on the rack–his father’s specifically, a larger pair placed so carefully, so neatly as if he was nothing but a guest.

Hana, his younger sibling, on the other hand has her sneakers placed crookedly. That felt more at home.

The hallway is filled with memories with many pictures on the wall. They’re all from different events; birthdays, school concerts, christmases etc.

 There was one picture at the beach that was taken two years ago. Their father wasn’t in on that one. That specific frame sits just slightly crooked enough for him to notice but he doesn’t move it.

“Is that you, Taehyung?” His mother, Kim Haeun, calls out from the kitchen, her voice loud and high-pitched.

“Yes,” Taehyung replies, taking off his shoes, tiredly. “It’s me.”

“Come hurry, wash your hands and sit. We’re almost done.” She says, firmly. It seems as if she’s two steps ahead of him, like she’s been busy her whole life.

He sinks into their routine, the rhythm because that’s what this house demands. You match its pace or you’re left behind, either way, you’d lose.

He turns to the kitchen where the dining area also takes place, seeing the same scene he’s been looking at for years.

His mother has her hair up in a very messy bun like she just threw it all up together and clipped it quickly. She moves fast from the stove to the counter to the fridge for another ingredient.

On the table is a proper spread, nothing fancy enough that says there was effort made in choosing a design or fabric. There was braised beef, kimchi and some steaming rice in a pot although his mother wasn’t done cooking yet.

“Hey, Tae!” Hana says, bubbly as if her mood had just lightened up seeing her older sibling walk in while twirling a chopstick between her fingers. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie and there’s doodles on the back of her hands. The rest that go up to her arm can’t be seen.

“Hi.” Taehyung replies, his mouth barely curves upwards. “You did that?”

Hana glances at her hand where Taehyung was gesturing, “oh. Yup.” She looks back at him, “got bored in class.”

“Not bad. Maybe you’ll end up being a tattoo artist.”

“Will you be my first customer?” She asks, tapping the chair next to him, indicating he should sit.

And he does, he sits next to her. “I don’t think I’ll ever get a tattoo.”

“Come on, I need a test subject.”

Taehyung grimaces, “no, thank you.”

At the end of the table, his father sits straight backed, attention angled at the news murmuring from the living room. He turns his head to Taehyung’s direction, acknowledging his presence. He gives a short nod, there’s a faint ‘you’re home’ from him but Taehyung’s not sure if he actually said it or not.

And lastly, there’s his older brother, Taesun, sitting across from him. A soft smile offered with light bruised colored crescents under his eyes, he’s tired too. Probably not the same kind as Taehyung. His older brother has already dished rice into bowls for all of them.

“Hey, you made it.” He says as if Taehyung had travelled across the world, as if Taehyung was the one who didn’t live in that house. “Bad traffic?”

Taehyung puckered his lips, shaking his head. “I walked.” He replies while he stares at the food right in front of him.

“Ah,” Taesun acknowledges. He doesn’t say anything else and that usually indicates an understanding of ‘I won’t ask.’”

“Have you washed your hands?” His mother, behind him asks.

Right, he already forgot.

Taehyung quickly gets up without saying a word. The sound of the chair being pushed back as he walks over to the sink should be an answer itself.

The boy doesn’t talk much in this house anymore and everybody knew that anyway.

Wetting his hands with water, his mother takes a spoon up to his mouth waiting for him to open. “Taste this, tell me if it’s good or salty.”

He accepts the spoon full of soup and tastes it. Despite it already tasting good, he responds “a little more salt.”

Taehyung has learned she needs excuses to keep moving, making sure she’s always doing something. She adds a pinch of salt before finishing up and pouring the soup into a big bowl to bring to the table, which Taehyung helps with.

They all sit down, chopsticks lifted up as they begin to take a little bit of everything that’s set on the table. 

The first few minutes are easy– or at least easier, they’re just met with silence and it’s not completely comfortable, it’s not soothing but it’s also not that bad. For now.

Nobody says anything, not knowing how to start or if they even want to risk starting something that could end up being taken in the wrong way.

It’s not like that was far stretched in their reality.

“Your professor called last week,” It’s Haeun that breaks the quiet, looking in Taesun's direction. “He said you’re doing well.”

“Mhm,” Taesun hums while chewing his food, not being able to reply verbally.

“What about you?” She asks, eyes shifting to Hana. “How’s your friend–what’s her name? The one obsessed with ribbons.”

“Ah, Duri!” Hana answers, “she’s good. We found a cat at school and she named it Pebbles.”

“What kind of name is Pebbles?” Their father asks, without looking at anyone as his eyes stay fixed onto his food. It almost sounded like a joke, if only he had at least given out the effort to put a smile at the end of it.

“A good one, its skin was different shades of pebbles.”

Their mother faintly huffs out a laugh, a smile that almost looks fake sits on her face. That was just how she knew how to smile.

“Eat before it gets cold,” her attention is now on Taehyung, pushing the bowl of rice towards him. “You’ve been losing weight again, you’re so skinny now.”

“I’m fine,” He simply replies, lying because that’s just easier than having to be truthful. He looks up at his older brother which was a mistake he regretted the second he did it because he sees a knowing look upon his face.

Taehyung ignores it and looks away.

He knows he’s been losing weight, it’s clear. It’s obvious but he pretends like it’s not, he pretends like it’s not affecting him.

Most times it really doesn’t. He just eats when he can and when he remembers to and when he doesn’t, it’s not at all what comes to mind. Most times, he just doesn’t have an appetite.

That’s not something you can force to have.

Even though there are moments he wishes he wasn’t as skinny as he was right now, he couldn’t be bothered by that too.

“How’s school?” His father decides to speak. It’s not likely an actual question looking for an answer, merely a placeholder between bites.

“Busy,” Taehyung says, voice low but just enough for everyone to hear. “We, uh…had a long day.”

His mind drifts to earlier, the scene at the courtyard as if he wasn’t thinking about that hours ago right after it happened. He can’t help it, it’s the way Jeongguk had unlearned to say Taehyung’s name like it was all he ever knew. Now, he was just Kim. He was a stranger to him again.

Taehyung swallows, feeling a lump down his throat. Not necessarily him having a sore throat. It’s just him swallowing down his food with a side of feelings.

He doesn’t notice how Hana’s gaze on him lingers longer than it needed to but he didn’t owe anyone a run down of his day. He didn’t have the energy for that either, being quite honest.

“You came home late,” his mother starts and Taehyung already knows where this is going.

If he had a genie with three wishes to grant, all he’d want was to vanish; disappear and never return.

Haneun continues, complaining. “You didn’t even text.”

“I had to stay at school to finish something.” Taehyung’s responses are always vague, never wanting the conversation to go any further than it needed to.

It was just tiring to even try.

“What thing?” 

“Just something for a class.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

“What was it?” She pushes.

Taehyung sighs, making sure it didn’t come across as one. He just needed to breathe. “An essay.”

“But you can write that here, no?” 

“Well, yes but I was also helping Jimin with his presentation.” Taehyung exaggerates what had happened, he did nothing but compliment Jimin’s work.

The discussion quickly felt like an interrogation, his mother always looking for something wrong and nine times out of ten, she’d find something. It didn’t actually have to be wrong, she just had to think it was for that to be enough.

“Was it a group presentation?” Haeun presses, her spoon mid air as if she was taking a break from eating.

“Mom.” Taesun tries to cut in, trying to do something but he just gets ignored as expected.

“No, it wasn’t–”

A cut off, “You don’t eat with us anymore.” She calls out, “You’re always out late and always coming home later. Your brother visits once a week for one dinner and you should be here. It’s basic respect. The food gets cold, you should never let the food go cold.”

“I am here.” He says, taking a bite of some beef with rice, chewing slowly but aggressively. The yummy flavour is long gone– all he can taste is obligation.

“You weren’t. You’re here now,” she emphasizes. “But you’re always tired, always locked in your room. You look pale, are you sick? Have you gone to a doctor? Maybe you should get a check up.”

“I’m fine.” He only repeats and wishes time would skip over so he could lock himself in his room again, proving his mother’s point.

“What about your grades? Are you doing well? Do you submit your work on time?” Taehyung feels like he’s in a courtroom about to be convicted. “You know your father and I work hard to–”

This time it’s Taehyung who cuts her off, knowing she can talk for hours about how she had it harder and that the least her kids could do is be grateful for anything they have and for everything she didn’t.

“Mom.” He starts, putting on a forced smile. Though he really tries to make it a good one, a kind one. “Everything’s fine with me. I’m okay.”

“Don’t say it like that.” There it is, the pivot. The small but almost visible catch in her voice that just tightens the whole room, not giving anyone else a place of space to merely breathe. “You’re always saying that. Always say you’re okay but–”

“Can we just finish our blessed food?” Taesun says, tired of the constant ringing in his ear that happens to be his mother.

Haeun furrows her brows but all she says back is, “eat.”

And so they do. They’d rather that than go on and on, trying to have a simple conversation that always gets turned into a competition.

For a moment, the room relaxes. His father clears his throat while reaching for more kimchi. The air goes from tight to slack, already changing differently again. Haeun sips her soup, dropping her shoulders a little but never too much that she’s resting them.

“Did you finish the piece you were painting? An abstract painting, was it?” His mother asks, lightly this time.

Taehyung only blinks, not expecting for that to be brought up so abruptly. “Yeah. Abstract painting” He nods, “I did finish it.”

“You always come home with paint all over you, it’s messy.” She comments, eyes catching the faint color in the lines of his nails that haven’t washed off.

“I like using my hands,” He responded before he was able to think about a simple reply. Something about the honesty of it, the kind he wouldn’t prefer to admit anymore–the kind he got tired of trying to talk with because his words would get twisted– there’s a certain vulnerability to it, it’s uncomfortable.

It makes them both sort of uncomfortable.

“You’re like your grandmother,” she pauses as if a recollection were passing her mind. “She loved getting messy with paint too.”

Taehyung doesn’t feel a certain way about her reply, he never met his grandparents. Sometimes, he wonders just how much does his mom miss her parents when they themselves don’t even talk to each other anymore.

So that comment was just another new and vague information about his grandma that he probably won’t need to remember.

He only hums in response.

Her attention shifts to her husband, who’s right next to her. “Did your boss approve of your time off?”

Taehyung likes to think they continue to try having a normal conversation just to prove to themselves that there’s nothing wrong between them. 

That consistently goes wrong.

“Not yet,” He shakes his head, “maybe next week.”

It really should be nothing. It seems like nothing but a short discussion involving a man and his wife but this house has a way of turning itself and it truly doesn’t take more than wind shifting stronger. All it takes for the atmosphere to change is a small rock on the street–it shouldn’t bother you when you step on it but you can definitely tell it’s there.

“Why are you still in that major anyway?” Taehyung’’s father suddenly comments. It’s not in a rude manner per se, just abrupt and unnecessary as if he has any right to open his mouth. “Art, you know. You could do something more practical, for example.”

He doesn’t say it in a way that he’s gonna force Taehyung to do what he thinks is right or better. He says it like salt dropping in water, a suggestion so unimportant to Taehyung, it just dissolves.

Useless.

Taehyung seems unfazed as if he’s already had this discussion a hundred times with different people who never mind their own business. He could say that painting was something he loved doing and it came to him easily–usually anyway.

Or how it’s just something that always made sense to him, not to say a dream but it’s now one of the very few things that can make him feel somewhat free.

Even if he’s not. For the moments his hand holds a paintbrush, a canvas of some sort in front of him, he has freedom.

However, instead he only says, “I’m good at it.”

His father nods, a slow motion that fails to come across as anywhere significant.

Haneun’s gaze was still on her husband while her brows furrowed. Glancing at Taehyung for a moment before her eyes land back to the man beside her, something settles inside her.

Perhaps protectiveness or heavy anger—probably both.

“He is good at it,” She defends. “His professors even say so.”

“That’s nice.” His father mutters, almost too low to not even hear.

Haneun’s eyebrow lifts up in question, “nice? That’s all you can say?” She starts and while Taehyung can appreciate the sentiments behind her defense, he’d rather not do this right now.

He’d rather not at all.

But alas, nobody stops anything. They can’t.

So his mother continues, “do you know how many hours he spends painting? Have you even seen a painting of his since you’ve been back?”

The room freezes, all scared to move as if everything was incredibly fragile enough that one wrong movement could break the entire scene. They all stop eating and Taesun is looking at the nearly empty bowl below him, wishing it could speak to give him some advice.

How do you cut tension this thin without making it worse?

“I didn’t mean–” His father tried to start, he didn’t even know how to finish that sentence if he’s being completely honest.

“Of course you didn’t.” She says harshly, fuel igniting in her eyes. “You never mean to. You come home and you watch tv and you eat and ask questions like ‘how’s school?’ like you never left–”

“Mom.” Taesun tries again, soft and desperate but he has nothing else to say.

They all just wanted it to stop.

“–and now you ask why he studies the only thing he has left?” Her voice cracks as if she was about to choke and cry but she would never let it get to that.

Taehyung was more embarrassed than surprised when that came out of her mouth.

His mother knew about things getting worse for him–hell, it was getting worse for everyone at the house with his father leaving them a couple years back with the cowardly excuse of not being ready.

Not being ready when they had three kids already, as if they could just take out anything they didn’t want.

He suddenly got too overwhelmed with his new life and he called it quits. They never divorced but they cut off contact entirely until one day, Taehyung’s father stood outside their house.

Begging on his knees to be taken back, he was desperate. He promised he would be a father to his kids but he never promised he would be a dad.

And he wasn’t. It was too complicated as it was, him being out of their life from a younger age and suddenly he’s back as if he can pick and choose when he can be there and not?

It’s only been a year since he’s been back and his relationship with his kids are progressing as slow as snails crawl. There’s effort every now and then but aside from that, all he ever gives is the bare minimum.

The classic roof over their head and the expensive food on the table with a side of paid tuition fees for their education.

Taehyung could never understand why his mother took him back, they were okay on their own. It was hard but they managed and his mother did it all with no help from their absent father. But then he thinks how lonely she must be and it’s all just sad and unfortunate.

Over the years of his dad not being present, he became closer and closer to his mother at first. It was like they had no choice really, they were all they had, each other.

Complicated and dangerous, it wasn’t supposed to be normal. It’s not normal to trauma bond with your mother who’s a part of the reason you’re traumatized.

Nonetheless, they did bond.

Taehyung was nothing but understanding and appreciative throughout the years and alongside his siblings, he was the only one who noticed how truly fragile his mother was.

Despite all the aggressiveness and anger she lays out to the world through her kids, she was as fragile as the thinnest glass on an edge of a table. She never showed it and she still refuses to show even an ounce of weakness.

In her book, she’d rather be the villain than the victim everyone pities.

But then all of a sudden, there was a switch in the relationship between him and his mother because abruptly–they just didn’t click anymore. His mother would get angry all the time, most of the time she’d have no one else but him to target, to use as a punching bag.

And Taehyung would be too confused, too taken aback at the rapid mood changes that he just couldn’t say anything back.

His brother was long gone at that point and his younger sibling never was that close to their mother that way. Taehyung was as devastated as he could be. The one parent he had that was there, was still physically there but had removed herself emotionally.

He couldn’t do anything but push her away. It was always him leaving the conversation, walking out because if he didn’t–if he doesn’t, there’ll be two angry people going at each other’s throats just from being broken.

Taehyung didn’t want to see him in her, as if arguing with her seemed like looking into a mirror.

Pushing and pulling became too draining for him that he just had to push for his own good. Just so he won’t end up in a psych ward from going insane.

Though back then, when it had just started to happen, it was okay. It was doable because Jeongguk was there.

Jeongguk, the boy who would hold Taehyung in his arms while he cried for hours. Jeongguk, who’d lie down in bed with him ‘til he was able to sleep and forget. And Jeongguk, the man who’d kiss him endlessly just because.

Ah, yes, that Jeongguk. The same one who loathes his entire being now.

Over everything that has happened, Taehyung became an angry man. He’d be the easiest person to irritate and he couldn’t even stop himself at times.

Growing up in a family that never knew how to deal with emotions and only ever knew to start a mess, it’s no wonder he ended up always being angry.

He was mad at his absent father, his complicated mother, his brother who left him once he got the opportunity–he was most mad at the world, the universe. For giving him a life.

Eventually, Taehyung more or less has decided that he didn’t want to be upset and feel flames burning inside him every passing second. The fire began to rise too high, he was being burnt himself.

Unfortunately for him, it was either rage or misery from gloom.

The silence at the table isn’t empty, it’s filled with the unsaid words they never want to hear.

For the rest of the night, they don’t say much else. His mother tries to make another light conversation but evidently stops after that and timingly everyone’s finished eating.

His brother gives him a tight smile that’s almost comforting before Taehyung realizes that he doesn’t live here anymore so he gets to leave, he gets to escape the continuous rain that pours through the roof.

Taehyung eventually goes up to his room, staring between the crowded space full of mess he never has the energy to put away and the absolute nothingness in the void, only visible to his sight, only visible to his mind. 

He feels his body start to itch and all he can do is scratch at it, everywhere prickly he picks at, enough to leave marks for the night but also enough to fade by the morning.

Not having the provocation to change, he leaves his clothes on and lets himself drown on the bed. It’s not long before his eyes begin to sting yet his chest feels hollow–too full, too empty.

Taehyung often wonders how one could feel everything and nothing all together at once, yet he’s only learned to live with the absence of an answer nor the solution to it

Ultimately, exhaustion creeped up and caught up to him. After sobbing quietly into his pillow with the feeling of a building’s weight on his chest for what must’ve been an hour or maybe even two, his body caved in.

His tears dried on his cheeks and on the mattress before the stinging in his chest faded, leaving the same old heaviness behind as he drifted asleep, like always.

Nevertheless, it didn’t last. It never did.

Around four o’clock in the morning with the sun not even being up, he blinks his eyes open. His eyes were not cooperating due to how much he'd cried the night prior, feeling too heavy.

The room was still, too quiet for his own good. He tried rolling over to the other side, hugging his pillow to try and fall asleep again but his mind stayed loud, even when it just woke up.

Like the first thing his thoughts do is make him miserable.

He lays there for a longer while, desperate for sleep to come back but even if it didn’t and even if he was well aware of that, it’s not like it was easy for him to get up anyway.

The minute he lets himself fall onto the bed, he’s gone. He drowns and suffocates in it, his body disappears into it and his mind weighs over him like bricks stacking on top of each other.

Seconds pass by to minutes that turn into hours and all he had achieved was being able to roll over to his side then to his back and stomach. There was always something wrong in every position he was in.

As if no matter what, sleep was not accepting him.

It only takes him about two, almost three hours later to be able to finally sit up, running his hands through his hair as he debates whether or not he should get out of the house.

The air was cold when his feet hit the floor and became colder once he adjusted his hoodie. He didn’t think much about it–he just needed to leave. Be somewhere else before the walls in his bedroom continue to close in on him.

The house was silent when he stepped into the hallway yet he knew it was only a matter of time until his parents would wake up and get ready for their day. Taehyung couldn’t have that, he had to go before that happens so he rushed while tiptoeing to the entrance.

He moved quietly enough for no one to suspect noise as his shoes waited by the door, loyal as ever.

When he finally takes his steps outside, the world itself has the sky being barely awake while the wind forces you to remember how to breathe. The air hangs unsure of belonging to the night or the morning.

Taehyung starts walking, he knows where he’s going but the way there is good too. The streets are almost empty with the only people there are the ones who have to be. The shops are still closed for a few more hours as the streetlights keep flickering like they’re struggling to work themselves.

The only sound is his shoes against the pavement and the faint rush of the wind hushing through the trees.

He can’t ever deny the comfort the ‘in between’ life gives him. It’s where nothing is demanded nor expected from him this time around. When the earth and the people in it have yet to remember that it’s supposed to move and keep going.

For a brief moment, he feels as if he wishes he could just stay here, in this second, where all is paused, faint and even a little bit lost.

Woefully for him, like his sleep–it never lasts.

When he decided to get up and leave the house, he didn’t really decide on where to go specifically but his feet just move in the direction they’re most familiar with and eventually, he knows where they want to take him.

He doesn’t oppose.

By the time he reached the park, just ten minutes away from the campus, the sun barely had begun to rise. The skies look undecided, like someone started to paint them but in the midst of it, changed their mind and tried to cover it up.

Taehyung sat on a bench, it’s always the same one. The bench he chose was one that looked the most worn out. All the others were replaced by new ones except this one, and it just had to be his favorite.

He breathes out his mouth and watches the fog that goes with it, desperately seeking something to distract himself with. He wonders how many more bittersweet mornings filled with loneliness does he have to live through.

Until the air shifts again while the park turns gold from the sun, he stays there. For a fleeting moment, he thinks how nice it would be to vanish into dust while the sun pulls him in.

A bark is what cuts his thoughts off.

It gets louder and louder and he couldn’t shake off the feeling it sounded too familiar. Once the barking is basically right at his ear, his head turns to the dog’s direction before he could stop himself.

There it was, a dog running towards him while its leash was being dragged behind with no one holding it. Taehyung froze as a mixture of feelings washed over him, even more when he heard footsteps following.

“Chestnut!” Jeongguk’s voice was rough and deep with the morning, the familiar kind.

Taehyung stood up as the little brown dog skidded to a stop in front of him. Her tail wiggling, showing just how excited she was to meet an old friend after a couple of years. 

He had a soft spot for dogs but especially for Chestnut, she was the sweetest he’d ever met and just maybe he used to be biased because her owner was his lover.

Then, out of instinct, Taehyung crouches automatically as his hand starts to pet the dog’s head full of soft fur. She whined softly, pressing her nose against his palm.

“Hey there, buddy.” Taehyung murmurs, his voice sounding a lot gentler than he intended it to be. “You still remember me, huh?”

“Of course she does,” Jeongguk says, coming into view.

Taehyung’s eyes avert from the dog up to Jeongguk. The man stood a few feet away, wearing a black hoodie with its hood pulled over his head. His eyes seemed tired like he couldn’t sleep either but the rest of him was like a ball of energy, face unreadable in the early light.

Taehyung switched his attention back to the dog, continuing to pet her. “Oh, look,” he pauses as a bitter smile creeps upon him, “I guess Chestnut still prefers me.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “She prefers anyone who gives her attention.”

“Wonder where she got that from.” Taehyung fires, keeping his eyes on the cute dog that just wants to play.

There wasn’t a reply said to that, Jeongguk only takes a few steps forward and offers a hand out. At first, Taehyung was confused, seeing his palm out just like that in front of him. But then the opened hand was turned into a pointing finger, gesturing to the leash.

Taehyung internally scoffs, what, does Jeongguk just expect a helping hand like that?

Nonetheless, Taehyung complies but not kindly. He looks at the loop of leather in his hand and for a moment, studies Jeongguk’s face like he could just read his mind like that.

He used to be able to.

He makes sure to look annoyed while picking up the end of the leash to give to Jeongguk, pushing it into the other’s hand a bit harder than it was necessary to.

“Don’t drop it this time, yeah? Or is letting things run your new hobby?” He starts.

“That’s cute.” Jungkook responds, irritated. Their fingers touched for a second but it didn’t mean anything, it was just two hands that used to fit perfectly together. Now, it seems like the mere touch to the other just burns. “You always did love making everything about you.”

Taehyung lets out a sound that’s half a scoff while half a laugh mixed into it. “Only because you always did too.”

“It’s way too early to hear your annoying voice. Do the benches know you talk this much to empty air?”

“You literally talk to yourself while you run, you dick.” Taehyung spits back, brushing Chestnut’s fur one last time before standing up.

“What, are you a creep? Are you stalking me now?”

“Jeon, I know you’re not actually stupid so could you not pull shit out of your ass at ass o’clock in the goddamn morning?”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightened, “what the hell are you even doing here, Kim?”

“It’s none of your damn business actually.” Taehyung says, Chestnut still just happy to see him.

He hums, short and humorless. “Didn’t realize public parks came with your name on them.”

Taehyung’s brow lifts up in question. “You know exactly what this place means to me but I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were still this pressed about my presence.”

It’s quiet for a short while, they don’t really know what they’re doing. They could always move, go away, leave. They could learn how to put out a flame before it starts a fire but they don’t.

They don’t because no matter how much it burns, it’s still familiarly warm. 

“You look like shit.” Jeongguk comments, looking him up and down.

Taehyung laughs shortly but it’s empty. “You always had such a way with your compliments. You talk like you’re trying to sound superior, guess neither of us have changed that much.”

“At least I grew up.” Jeongguk says, low.

“Into what?” Taehyung’s mouth curls. “A fucking robot?”

Jeongguk shakes his head out of disbelief, “no. Into someone who doesn’t have time for your bullshit anymore.” He replies, calmly with a side of sharp edges.

“Right, because you’re always so busy being everyone’s favorite disappointment.” Taehyung mutters, looking away from Jeongguk’s empty eyes.

The younger’s brows furrowed yet his tone stays steady, “at least I’m not everyone’s burden.”

The silence that comes after those words spill out of his mouth is sharp. Chestnut shifts her weight, leash slacking between them as she lets out another whine, this time it sounded like she just wanted them to stop, as if she could understand the pain they paint on each other and the hurt they’ve caused.

“You just love hearing yourself talk, I bet.” Taehyung starts again. He didn’t want the other to have the last word like last time, he couldn’t back down right now. He can’t let himself feel weak any more than he currently looks.

“You started it.” Jeongguk shrugs.

“You sound like a kid, are you not embarrassed? You never seem to know when to shut up.” Taehyung offers him a forced smile, clearly fake.

“Funny,” Jeongguk begins and while he doesn’t intend to say the next words he’s about to, he lets it slip. “You used to like it when I didn’t.”

The smile slowly fades, “yeah, well, I used to like a lot of things about you, they weren’t good for me. Things change.”

“Clearly.” Jeongguk has the audacity to scoff, referring to how things do change. “You call anything a mistake once it stops giving you attention.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Taehyung responds, his tone sharp as he could. “You only know how to care until it’s inconvenient.”

Jeongguk huffs, tonguing his cheek. A habit he’s developed when he’s frustrated. “You think you’ve got me figured out, Kim?”

“As a matter of fact, I know I do, Jeon.” Taehyung firmly nods, not backing down.

They made it too personal.

“Oh, because you’re always right, hm?”

“About you? Probably.” Taehyung shrugs, the air is sharp and heavy, filled with the past but it’s honest.

Jeongguk steps closer, “you’re just mad that I stopped trying.”

And for a second, they only look at each other.

So much familiarity in the other’s face yet a stranger covers them up. They’re too close for people who absolutely despise one another, their nose almost touching.

Taehyung’s response is said in a whisper, as if Jeongguk is the only one who could comprehend it. “No, but you’re just mad that no matter how many people you try to let in, get close, I’m still the one who knows you best.”

Jeongguk observes the way Taehyung’s lips close after talking. “And what the hell does that say about you?”

“That I should’ve stopped giving a fuck a long time ago.” Taehyung’s eyes flicker, remembering that he and Jeongguk will never be the same. They’ll never be who they were before and he knows this is the only way because he’s accepted it. “Try not to miss me, yeah?”

“That’s easy.” Jeongguk blinks, “I haven’t in a long time.”

“Good, so stop looking like you do.” Taehyung moves past him, bumping Jeongguk’s shoulder coldly, on purpose as he continues, “It’s fucking pathetic.”

Chapter Text

The morning feels much heavier than it really should. Perhaps it’s because Taehyung hasn’t gotten the chance to sleep longer. 

Once he got home after the unfortunate events of bumping into Jeongguk, he didn’t even go back to lying down on his bed. He knew that the second he’d be comforted by his own mattress, he wouldn’t want to get up again and while that idea wasn’t opposed, Jimin’s words floated through his head.

He is barely passing his classes.

And no matter how much Taehyung either tries to deny it or tries to justify that passing is still passing, he also knows that if he keeps this up, he’ll eventually get to failing.

That’s the last thing he needs right now so he gathers the last bits of his energy to just take a shower to try and wake himself up more than he is. After that, he changes into comfortable yet casual clothes and rejects the thought of eating. He’s not hungry.

As lazy as Taehyung is most times, he still prefers to walk–most times. It’s simultaneously good for him since it gets a lot of steps in but he does it because at least outside, the air is fresh. Even though sometimes it still feels trapped inside his lungs, he figured it'd be worse if he was inside a vehicle with other people sharing space and air.

However, this time Taehyung thought he had already walked enough and his legs were getting to the point of almost giving in so he had to take the bus. He can deal with it for today.

The boy then drags himself through the campus as if he were merely a ghost pretending to be a human. He wishes that were the case, wishes he was invisible. Taehyung’s hoodie is drawn up while his hands are buried in its pockets.

Much different to the in between world of pauses and breaks, it’s a lot louder and busier now. The students laughing too loudly with their footsteps squeak on the floors from their sneakers, the buzz of the vending machines around the buildings and the sun that’s just beginning to do its job and shine for the day.

None of it reaches him.

Taehyung keeps his gaze low on the ground while trying not to bump into anyone, letting his body move on through instinct as if he’s just another minor character of the scenery passing by.

There’s a bigger part of him that wonders maybe this is good, perhaps it’s better this way when the noise is all outside almost fully distracting the noise inside–making his mind quiet.

He arrives at his destination. He stands just outside the room of his first period lecture while his back and head lean against the wall, watching the stream of students quickly come in and out of his view, shuffling past like waves that don’t ever stop.

The liveliness, the chatters, the laughters– it all feels like it belongs to a universe that doesn’t involve nor include him.

Taehyung pulls out a small carton drink that he bought from one of the vending machines, he might as well if he doesn’t eat anything. It’s strawberry milk. Perhaps it is too pink, too sweet and too childish but it’s the good kind of familiar meaning it’s safe and safe is rare.

His reflection flickers briefly from the vending machine’s glass that was across from him. The hoodie he’s wearing is a tad bit wrinkled, there are dark circles like smudges under his eyes while he tries not to look at his face too much.

It just reminds him how tired and broken he really is and maybe it’s not completely readable to the world but he doesn’t get the chance to escape who he is, unfortunately.

There’s too much noise for Taehyung’s liking that he doesn’t hear the familiar footsteps going his way.

“Tae!” Jimin’s voice cuts through the static.

His eyes avert to the boy calling his name, the tiniest bit of spark grows inside him from seeing his best friend. The slightest bit of reassurance that someone’s here who has him.

Jimin has that morning energy that Taehyung always never has although that doesn’t bother him, he’s fixed on the opinion that mornings are overrated anyway. He thinks Jimin is a little too awake for someone this early.

“I was literally about to text you,” Jimin says, smiling as bright as the sun. His expression changes from being happy to seeing Taehyung to being worried about him. “You look like you fought with sleep and lost, badly.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung takes a sip from the carton in his hand, “I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Jimin mocks, very much unconvinced. His gaze pans over to the drink and his mouth curves. “Strawberry milk, really?”

Taehyung’s eyebrow raises, “and what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Jimin grins, “it’s just that you know, we’re art students. Gulping down coffee every second of every day is part of the personality.”

“I’m glad I don’t conform to it, then.” Taehyung replies, pridefully.

“Right. Instead you drink strawberry milk and anything that has chocolate in it. Like a kid.” His best friend points out.

And he’s right. Intentionally or not, Taehyung still hangs on to the things he used to do or stuff he used to like as a kid because it’s what makes him feel safe, things he’s always known that don’t have to necessarily change.

Taehyung rolls his eyes at that despite it being true, still, there’s a faint twitch of amusement on his lips. “And you’re still talking when it’s barely 9am.”

“Well, that’s because I actually slept.” Jimin says cheerfully, looping an arm over Taehyung’s shoulder.

The bright sun itself may not always reach Taehyung but Jimin more often does, and he believes it’s one of the few fortunate things he has in his life. He’ll forever be grateful for his best friend even though he thinks he doesn’t deserve him.

 It’ll just be this once he’ll be selfish over something he wants.

They hear a notification from their phones at the same time, immediately checking the devices out of habit.

[Professor Nam: Color Theory and Application Class cancelled. (9:30 - 11:00am) ]

“Sweet.” Jimin thinks out loud.

Taehyung blinks, “cancelled?”

There’s a mixture of emotions going through him reading those words. Of course a part of him is happy that he won’t be having class this early in the morning but another side of his thoughts are almost too disappointed.

One of the few times Taehyung really tries to get up and be there on time, of course, it’s not even worth it because now, his efforts are useless. He could’ve gone back to bed, maybe get a couple of hours of sleep.

“Guess so. Which means we’re free until 11:30.” Jimin gives him a look that’s already too full of plans, oh no. ‘“So I’m thinking me, you and Hobi at that new cafe nearby.”

Taehyung’s eyes twitch, hesitating. “I fear it’s too early for that.”

“No, it’s actually just the perfect time. Free period.” Jimin says, reaching out for his hand.

“Minie–”

Jimin doesn’t let him finish whining or looking for a way out. “No excuses, Tae. You either lock yourself at your house or you’ve been buried in the editing lab all week. Sunlight is very much needed, especially for you. Or at least something that isn’t fluorescent.”

Still not fully convinced, “I don’t k–”

“Too bad.” Jimin interrupts, “you’re coming, we’re going and Hobi’s already on his way to meet us outside.”

Taehyung sighs but lets himself be pulled along anyway. He’s slightly annoyed at not being able to decline but thankful that Jimin’s there, even though it's forcing him to do something he doesn’t necessarily want to do because it's good for him.

He squeezes the now empty strawberry milk carton and tucks it into the recycling bin on their way out, the pastel pink disappearing into a sea full of dark brown paper cups and crushed energy drink cans.

While the rest of the students enter their classes, Jimin and Taehyung find Hoseok outside the campus gate, leaning against the railing with a stylish scarf wrapped up high enough around his chin. He waves when he sees them, a grin to his face. “Hey, guys!”

“Hi, Hobi.” Taehyung quietly says, not too much energy in his tone unlike the other two.

Come to think of it, Taehyung doesn’t even know how exactly he ended up in a friend group with the two brightest people in the school.

“Missed you yesterday.” His friend says and Taehyung’s mouth slightly curves up, offering a small smile.

“Missed you too.”

“Are you feeling better? You’re wearing a scarf and it’s not even that cold today.” Jimin says.

“Uhm, it’s called style, hater. It’s the cherry on top to complete the outfit, not that you would know.”

Jimin hits him on the arm but it’s not enough to hurt. “Hey! I have plenty of knowledge about style–I have style!”

Taehyung can only shake his head in response to his best friends.

They begin to walk to their destination, it’s only about a ten minute walk from the campus. “Have you both eaten?”

“I ate a full breakfast, Taehyung had strawberry milk.” Jimin admits, nudging Taehyung’s side.

“Strawberry milk is not breakfast.” Hobi calls out.

“First of all, you don’t even know if I had breakfast prior to that or not, Jiminie, and secondly, it can be!” Taehyung defends.

Jimin chuckles from his reaction, he finds his friend cute. Worrisome but cute. “You never eat breakfast at your house, Tae.” He pauses. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you never eat breakfast, period.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes in protest but again, it’s true.

He feels somewhat attacked, he didn’t ask for a reality check.

“I had a sandwich.” Taehyung responds, lying. He lies because he doesn’t want his friends to look at him the way they do, he doesn’t want them to worry.

“Really? You did?” Hobi asks as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the world. 

Taehyung nods, humming a yes.

“I bet you only took a bite.” This time, Jimin replies, wanting more information out of the other. He just cares for his being.

“No, I ate one whole sandwich. It wasn’t much but I did.”

“Okay, I’m proud of you for that.” 

Jimin’s words make Taehyung feel bad and guilty because he doesn’t like lying to his friends and it makes it worse that they praised him for something that’s such an easy activity to do and yet he still had to lie about it.

Despite it being normal that a lot of people don’t eat breakfast, they both know it’s different when it comes to Taehyung because it’s not only the first meal he doesn’t take.

It’s not a matter of importance to him and he can’t bring himself enough to care.

More topics to the conversation appear until eventually, they reach the small cafe that hums with low chatter as the espresso machines hissing behind the counters.

It’s not that busy since most students who come there are currently in class and they’re given the opportunity to pick where to sit.

They end up in the back in a corner booth where Taehyung immediately slides into. Jimin and Hobi are in line, ordering for themselves and for him and it really doesn’t take long for their order to be done.

The two gently place the mugs and plates on the tables and join Taehyung sitting down.

Taehyung didn’t really care for another drink but he decided to order a hot chocolate anyway. To make his friends content since both of them are not only drinking coffee but also eating pastries and maybe a little bit for himself because he really does enjoy a nice cup of warm chocolate.

He wraps his hands around his mug, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

“Got this for you too.” Jimin says, sliding over a sandwich that was wrapped in a plastic container.

“Minie, you know you didn’t have to.” Taehyung replies but Jimin insists.

“You don’t have to eat it now, just in case you get hungry throughout the day.” Jimin reassures and Taehyung feels appreciative, “besides, one sandwich isn’t complete. It has to be two.”

Taehyung only shakes his head at that but says his thank you while taking the container to put in his bag.

“So,” Jimin starts again. “Guess who I saw yesterday.”

Hobi raises an eyebrow at that, suspicious. “You only start your sentences like that if it’s about a person you’re obsessed with.”

Jimin fakes a look of innocence. “Whatever that means,” he blinks while clearing his throat. “Anyway, so I saw Yoongi.”

“There we go.” Hobi says, expecting that from the other.

“I mean, he’s just Yoongi–”

“Just Yoongi?” Hoseok grins, knowing this is another crush of his he can tease Jimin with.

Taehyung hides a faint but amused smile behind the rim of his mug, commenting before taking a sip. “You are kind of obsessed with him, Minie.”

“Excuse me?” Jimin dramatically replies, clutching his chest theatrically. “This is coming from you, Mr. Brooding Painter who once stayed up all night painting the same brushstroke over and over to perfect J–”

Taehyung quickly interrupts, “that was for class.” He justifies.

“Yeah, sure it damn was.” Jimin responds, his eyes glinting. “Let’s see, class Yearning 101?”

Hoseok nearly chokes on his coffee from trying not to laugh but failing in doing so. “You two are obsessed and ridiculous.”

“Mind you, that was three years ago. I could throw that painting without a care in the world.”

“But have you?” Jimin asks, pushing it.

“Have I what?”

“Thrown it out.”

Taehyung takes a second to think about it. The painting he worked so hard on, making sure it was perfect. It was for a realism project, an assignment wherein they had to try and paint a person. Of course, back then he chose Jeongguk.

Though he hasn’t seen that work of his in a while, it’s probably somewhere in the basement of his house, alone and most likely filled with spiderwebs.

But no, he hasn’t thrown it out. Just kept away, which is ironic because he hasn’t fully cut off Jeongguk himself out of his life either, just kept away.

“You know what, I’m gonna leave to throw it out right now.” Taehyung says, beginning to stand up but Jimin stops him, holding him down.

“No, you’re not.” His best friend firmly says. “Anyway, Yoongi was at the gym. The basketball team was practicing as always and he was just there talking to a teammate. Namjoon, I think? Or maybe it was Jin, I can’t remember. All I saw was Yoongi.” Jimin dramatically sighs, happily, thinking about his crush again.

The word basketball lands way heavier than it should. Taehyung shouldn’t feel like he’s about to flinch when he hears that word but, alas, he does.

Because he flinches when he’s reminded of Jeongguk. And really, unfortunately, everything reminds him of Jeon Jeongguk.

Taehyung’s hands  stay still, holding his cup on the table. For a short moment, the cafe all of a sudden feels much louder than it was with the murmurs around him, the steam hissing, cups clattering. He forces himself to move again, lifting the mug even though his throat’s gone too tight.

Hoseok, across from him, continues to talk–oblivious. “Jin’s not even a player but he’s always there. Their biggest supporter, I swear.” They share a sweet laugh.

The words are going past Taehyung’s ears, though he's still trying to listen while his eyes fix on the brown liquid inside his cup slowly swirling around.

Jimin pauses mid laugh, glancing at the boy beside him. “Hey.”

“Hm?” Taehyung tries to focus, shifting his attention to Jimin.

“You used to watch their games.” He says lightly, not realizing how sharp it comes across.

Taehyung’s shoulders stiffen before he can stop them as the words drop to the pits of his stomach, a flash of memories coming back to him.

Not only did he watch all of their games, Taehyung used to watch Jeongguk’s games. No one else mattered to him, back then. He’d make sure he had a good seat at the front to be able to watch Jeongguk play clearly and occasionally cheer loudly for him.

Years have passed, the good memories were kept in the back of their minds while they continued their feud. Naturally, Taehyung stopped watching any basketball matches their school team had. Anything to avoid Jeongguk.

Well, perhaps avoid anything that has to do with him.

Because evidently, Taehyung and Jeongguk could never ignore each other even if it meant they’d be at the other’s throat instead.

Taehyung shrugs, detached. “That was a long time ago.”

Jimin studies his face for a fleeting minute, something flickering across his face; guilt or perhaps, mere hesitation. Then, he fails to stop himself from the urge of asking, “and if I ask you to come with me to their next game?”

Taehyung turns his head to stare at him, looking to see if he was being serious or not. It seems like he had no ounce of a joke on his face. He lets out a soft scoff. “Why would you do that to me?”

“It wouldn’t be that bad.” Jimin starts, insisting. His tone is between half teasing and half testing the waters. “They’ve only gotten better and better, you know. Jeo–” He stops himself, though it’s quite too late to take back his tongue tripping over the name. “They’re really good.”

There’s a pause, heaviness filling the air.

For a moment, Taehyung actually thinks about it. Maybe he’s not on the way to even consider it but he ponders over the thought. Perhaps it was simply a weak moment for him, perhaps the memories have caught up at the wrong time.

He shakes his head as if shaking the thoughts about it, it should’ve been a clear answer. He shouldn’t have even had to wonder about it.

“Then you should go. Feel free to tell me if they win or not but I doubt I’d care about it, Minie.”

“Come on, maybe you can be my wingman! Help me get my man, my Yoongi.” Jimin pleas, desperate and although he means what he says, maybe there’s a glimpse of something else that he wants to happen too.

“Taehyung would be the worst wingman, what would he say? ‘Hi, there. My friend’s in love with you, please don’t run away from him’?”

Jimin gasps, dramatically. “That’s slander! I’ll play it cool, be subtle.”

“Subtle?” Taehyung looks up, furrowing his brows. “You literally just called him your Yoongi.”

“And he is. He doesn’t know it yet but he will be. It’s called the manifestation of affectionate branding.” Jimin says confidently, grin returning to his face. The awkwardness slips away like it never appeared.

Hobi snorts, “yeah, sure. Just keep telling yourself that.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, grin still there on his mouth. “I’ll have you know, Yoongi smiled at me yesterday.”

“Wow, congratulations! You were probably staring at him until he finally noticed you were there.”

“Hey, that’s so rude! You’re supposed to be supportive.” Jimin replies, pointing his straw at Hobi as if it were a weapon.

“Right, my bad, my bad.” Hoseok agrees, nodding his head. “I meant to say, congratulations you’re practically married.”

“That’s much better.”

Taehyung relaxes, leaning his back against the booth, letting their laughter fill the air. He joins in every now and then until eventually the comfortable silence rises upon them.

Though, it doesn’t bother him this time, a simple reminder that not every silence has to ache.

Jimin’s gaze goes back to Taehyung, his own chest beaming from seeing the countable times Taehyung looks happy. “You love us.” He states with a big grin.

Taehyung shakes his head but he himself shows off his boxy smile. “I hate you both actually.”

But he doesn’t and they all know that.

He really doesn’t. 

Taehyung and Jimin’s next class comes up after their semi outing earlier this morning. 

The classroom is already buzzing by the time they both walk in with the soft murmurs from their classmates, the backpacks being put away or put down and the projector light that flickers weakly against the whiteboard at the front of the room.

It’s the afternoon now which means the sun stripes the walls in pale gold. They slip into their usual seats that are beside each other, of course, in the third row from the back by the window.

The door opens again and Taehyung doesn’t look, he really doesn’t have to. Some things you can just feel before you see, it’s simply a gut feeling that ends up being right most of the time.

It’s Jeongguk, arriving right on time, not too early nor too late. The athlete moves through the aisles like he owns it, bag slung neatly one shoulder.

Stereotypically, as one of the top students that keeps their record up, he sits more at the front. Not the first row but near enough for his professors to keep track of him easily.

And thank god for that because Taehyung prefers their distance. Although he doesn’t like knowing Jeongguk’s just right there, the fact that he can just look at the back of his head and the boy wouldn’t even notice.

Most people would love that, but not Taehyung.

Because if Taehyung were to glance at Jeongguk, he’d want the other to know so that he’s irritated by it too. Because what business would they have looking at each other anyway?

“Good afternoon, class.” The professor announces, walking in with a stack of papers and a certain energy of someone who still has hope and believes in his students, somehow. “Today we’re gonna start a new project–a new assignment. Nothing big, very light. More specifically, an essay to be done in a week.”

Relief ripples through the room. For the majority of them, they were just happy that it wasn’t a presentation or a short film that would take weeks to achieve.

“Your task,” the professor continues, “is to explore proximity through film–the physical, emotional, psychological, whatever-ical proximity. You will be working in pairs or trios on an analytical essay, one to two pages or approximately 1000-1500 as word count. Choose one or more scenes from any movie and discuss how framing, color, sound, etcetera reveals distance or closeness.”

He picks up a piece of paper from his desk, a list. “Groups are random, so I recommend treating this as a social experiment, yes?”

That was a rhetorical question, it probably wasn’t gonna happen.

Jimin groans and Taehyung’s not happy about it either.

There’s about thirty people in this class, that’s approximately a 3% chance of getting paired with Jeongguk and a 7% chance of being in a trio group with him.

This isn’t the first time Taehyung has thought about that. He doesn’t have too that often since he only shares one class with Jeongguk but still, it could happen.

He thinks he’s gotten lucky for all the other group projects and assignments they’ve had in the past. His heart starts to palpitate, nerves starting to rise.

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, it’s just a project.

But it isn’t. Not if it’s with Jeongguk.

The professor starts listing down the students in pairs or a group of threes. 

“Park Jimin, Park Seojoon and Choi Wooshik…”

Jimin turns over to Taehyung, giving him an ‘I’m sorry I can’t help it’ look. Oh well, it’s just a week that he’ll have to suffer.

Taehyung sends over a small smile back, it’s not Jimin’s responsibility to make his life easier anyway.

The names fall into the air and then–

“Kim Taehyung, Park Bogum–”

please, please, please

“–and Jeon Jeongguk.”

oh for fuck’s sake

He thinks he’d rather jump outside the window next to him yet the most he can do is sigh, harshly.

The quiet laughter and murmurs from the class disappear like Taehyung’s will to live any further.

Taehyung doesn’t move. He doesn’t look at Jimin, he doesn’t adjust the sleeves of his hoodie despite the air feeling a lot hotter than it was and Jeongguk doesn’t turn to look at him either. Although, not that he would notice that, he wasn’t staring in the first place.

The professor observes the students before adding, “if someone in your group is absent, please make sure they get the information.”

By the time instructions finish, the room is already buzzing again. This time, it’s the chairs being dragged together, the people’s phones being taken out and the quiet debates about which film to write about.

Jimin taps his hand on Taehyung’s arm, “good luck. Tell me about it later.”

“I’ll be fine, Minie. Go.” He says but even he himself wasn’t sure how convincing his words came out as.

With one last smile, Jimin’s gone to his own partners.

Taehyung exhales, he doesn’t move though. Maybe he just didn’t want to but perhaps he also assumed Jeongguk would be the one moving towards him.

He doesn’t know if he’s just doing it to show the professor he’s willing to do the extra work or if it’s just because he still knows Taehyung like that.

As predicted, Jeongguk ends up walking to the back of the room, where Taehyung’s seat was and he sits down on the seat where Jimin was.

It’s awkward, tense.

They’ve used the last of their luck and haven’t been in this situation until now and they don’t know what to do about it.

Are they gonna keep fighting and arguing, never getting any work done? Are they gonna push all that aside and finally be civil for this one week that they need to?

It’s quiet– between them.

The professor focuses on his papers, sitting calmly at his own desk. The students are loud, talking about different movies and how they can be poetic for an essay.

The background is as loud as it can get but between them it’s nothing.

They stay like that for a while, still as mannequins but unlike statues, Taehyung and Jeongguk can feel the mere heavy presence of the other right beside them. 

Taehyung’s gaze is fixed on the window, he thinks maybe he’ll just keep doing this for the remainder of the period and they’ll just figure it out next time.

Maybe he won’t attend this class anymore, who knows.

Jeongguk decides he has other plans.

He clears his throat before finally breaking their uncomfortable silence. “You can tell Bogum.”

Taehyung’s eyes instantly darted toward Jeongguk, giving it a moment to think whether Jeongguk actually said something or if his mind was just playing with him.

Jeongguk slowly raises an eyebrow, giving him a confused expression and confirming he did in fact say something.

The older stares and slowly blinks. “What?”

“Tell him about the essay.” Jeongguk repeats, tone flat like he’s forgotten who he’s talking to.

Taehyung knits his brows together, opening his mouth trying to say something but closes it because the words didn’t spill out. He tries again, “you walked all the way here just to say that?”

“Figured we should get that out of the way and save time.” Jeongguk shrugs.

“Right,” Taehyung murmurs, his eyes avert to the wall at the front of the room, not wanting to look at Jeongguk’s face. “Wouldn’t want you wasting your precious seconds and minutes of efficiency.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “so you’re still allergic to cooperation, I assume?”

“Maybe I just don’t like being told what to do.” He shrugs, folding his arms against his chest. “Actually, let me rephrase that. I don’t like being told what to do by you.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Jeongguk scoffs out what was almost a laugh. “It’s not even telling, we’re gonna be dividing the work.”

Taehyung looks over at him, Jeongguk’s eyes already on him. “Oh, dividing work. So I’ll do the talking and you’ll do the acting like you’re better than everyone since that’s your thing anyway, yeah?”

“You’re projecting again.” The younger replies, there’s not a lot of weight behind his eyes but they stay sharp.

“Projecting?” Taehyung mocks and his cheeks instantly turn a shade of pink from the earned glances from some of the students around them, including Jimin, who peeps at them every now and then to see if they’re about to kill each other.

“As much as you like attention, you should keep your voice down.” Jeongguk smirks and although it’s meant as yet another insult, there’s a very faint tone of teasing behind the walls.

Taehyung squints his eyes at him, “ugh, shut up, Jeon. You’re the one who spends every second looking like the world’s biggest martyr.”

“I don’t look like anything,” Jeongguk simply denies, “that’s kind of the point.”

The older sends him a look that could practically burn through the walls. “You’re so unbelievable.”

“And you’re predictable.” Jeongguk fires back, almost instantly. “Always trying to pick fights when you don’t want to feel small.”

The thought of stabbing him with a pen isn’t something Taehyung is opposed to at the moment, if he’s being quite truthful.

He closes his eyes, inhaling slowly and breathing out even slower. “Let’s just–” he pauses, gesturing to the notebook on his desk, “let’s just get this over with before I say something I don’t mean.”

Jeongguk’s eyes glance from the object to Taehyung and he stares a moment longer than necessary but eventually gives in, sighing. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Alright, Kim.” Jeongguk says a bit too sharply.

Taehyung stops repeating the other’s words and gestures for him to go on then.

“Parasite or Call Me by Your Name?” Jeongguk begins to speak again.

The tapping of Taehyung’s pen stops, “huh?”

“For the essay,” Jeongguk clarifies. “We have to pick a film for the scene or scenes–pick a movie you prefer. Unless you wanna get into something else…?”

Taehyung hesitates, his shoulder stiffening. “You go first.”

He already knew what Jeongguk was gonna pick, he just wanted to test it out to see if he was right. And he is.

“Parasite,” Jeongguk says without a pause, “it fits the assignment. Proximity as power. The families stacked on top of each other, literally. From the basement, ground floor, upstairs–every frame every floor means something.”

Taehyung shakes his head, he saw it coming from a thousand miles away. “And you call me predictable? Of course you’d be something architectural.”

“It’s structural,” the younger corrects. “The whole thing’s geometry, it’s precise. Not messy.”

“That’s the problem.” Taehyung points out, “it’s perfect. It doesn’t feel.”

Jeongguk finally looks at him again, staring into his eyes, trying to study the man who sits before him. “It’s not supposed to feel, it’s supposed to show. And with Parasite, it does.”

“And you think by showing, it’s enough?”

“It’s honest.”

Taehyung huffs a laugh, though it’s definitely not from something funny. “Honest? Sure, because nothing tells the truth than hiding everything under perfect symmetry.”

“Better than wallowing in your own sentimentality.” Jeongguk states, leaning on his chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Taehyung replies, defensively.

“You always pick the movies that’s painful on purpose. You like the suffering part, pretending that the ache means some sort of depth.”

Jeongguk really irritates Taehyung. Nobody gets under his skin like he does.

And he fucking hates it.

Taehyung clenches his teeth, “I’m sorry I prefer the movies that aren’t afraid to portray what it is to be human.”

Jeongguk’s eyes notice the way Taehyung’s hands grip the edge of his desk, shortly flicking them away. “Sorry I don’t like the movies that drown in it.”

For a fleeting minute, they take a pause from the discussion–the argument, really. It’s quiet again between them until Taehyung sighs for what feels like the millionth time, wanting to just get over this.

“Call Me By Your Name.”

Jeongguk frowns, “excuse me, what?”

Taehyung quirks up a brow, wondering what Jeongguk had thought there when he just said the title. “Why don’t you write your geometry essay later, yeah? I’m choosing Call Me by Your Name. It’s about restraint–wanting to touch someone with every bit of you but using your last strength of self control to not because you shouldn’t. It’s about anything that you want to happen and everything that can’t.”

He doesn’t realize he’s rambling and quite frankly, he shouldn’t be wasting his breath on Jeongguk. 

However, the other doesn’t interrupt him. Jeongguk lets him talk and he has the audacity to just listen.

It takes a second before the younger responds. For that moment, Taehyung has the slightest bit of hope that he’ll agree.

“So we’ll write about unfulfilled desires. Great ‘cause that’s definitely original.”

Well, of course, he was wrong.

“I can’t believe you’d rather write about class struggle and basements–oh wait, let me take that back. I can actually believe that.”

“At least it means something.” Jeongguk shrugs.

“And? So does this.”

“Right. If you like pretending that heartbreak is an art form.”

“Because it is, quite literally. Even if we say it’s not, it’s still better than pretending you don’t have a heart at all.”

They freeze at that. Taehyung failed to stop the words from spilling out and it gets them quiet once more. The air has become heavy and sharper than it already was.

It shouldn’t have mattered, they’ve both said worser things. They’ve both let out much more hurtful thoughts than they’ve meant to.

Yet it does, it still does. Because Taehyung can’t pretend he doesn’t have a heart.

Taehyung gulps, looking away. “Whatever, Jeon.”

“No,” Jeongguk firmly says, “you don’t get to fucking say that and just take it back like that.”

The thought of apologizing comes up but Taehyung quickly dismisses it, they don’t do that. Not anymore and he’s not gonna start now.

So instead, he decides that it’s best to go with it. Besides, what’s a little more hurt when they’re full of it, right?

“Fine, alright. Maybe I meant it.” Taehyung responds, much harder than he actually believes but he has to, he can’t show his weakness to the other.

Jeongguk merely stares at him, a hint of exhaustion flashes through his eyes but it’s as if he realized that the moment it happened because it’s gone as if it never came. “You don’t think I feel anything, Kim, hm? I’m not the one who started this hurt train, don’t fucking forget that.” 

Taehyung blinks, his heart starts to ache the way it shouldn’t because it’s Jeongguk.

He doesn’t reply, causing Jeongguk to continue speaking. “Just forget it.”

The professor’s voice cuts through the tension from across the room. “Okay, everyone. Time’s up, class is over. Remember, you have the entire week to work on your essays and I’ll be collecting it by next week.”

The other students collectively respond with a ‘yes, sir’ before pushing their chair back to get up and leave the classroom. 

Neither of the pair move, almost as if they’re scared to.

Perhaps, they don’t want to yet. They haven’t been this close to each other that lasted longer than a minute.

But that’s probably not it.

Eventually, Jeongguk shakes his head while he stands up, swinging his bag across his shoulder before turning to Taehyung. “Library, tomorrow. Three pm.”

He’s already turning around when Taehyung responds, like he wasn’t waiting for an answer. “Don’t be late.”

Jeongguk doesn’t glance at him again, he just keeps walking with Taehyung’s eyes fixed on his back as he walks away. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

Then he’s out of the room.

Jimin comes into view again, “so, how was it?”

“It went just as expected, Jimin. Don’t act surprised.”

“Well, I’m surprised you didn’t kill each other which is a plus, really.” Jimin sends him a smile, a cheeky one.

“Don’t keep your hopes up, we’re not far from it.”

Soon enough, it’s the next day already. There wasn’t much entertainment going on for the rest of Taehyung’s day yesterday. He attended his remaining classes, almost falling asleep in most of them but he fought through the tiredness.

After that, he declines dinner with Jimin and uses the excuse that he’ll be eating with his family. Though, that wasn’t true.

It’s not like he lied about that per se, maybe Taehyung was expecting to have to deal with yet another chaotic dinner at the Kim house but once he got home–he passed out the second he reached his bed.

He plopped himself down and a minute later, he’s snoring like he hasn’t slept for years. His mother tries to call him down but after seeing how Taehyung didn’t even bother to change his clothes or get under the blanket, she figured how tired he must’ve been.

And although she understood him, her point the night before was proven to be right. Even if Taehyung was home, he’d be too tired to do anything with his family.

Not that he’d want to anyway.

So after a long while, Taehyung was finally able to have a good night and long hours of sleep. Though, not any amount of sleep would be able to fix how tired Taehyung actually is. Not when it’s living itself he’s tired about.

And considering he slept through dinner, his one meal yesterday was the sandwich Jimin offered to him. On his way home, his stomach started to keep grumbling so he figured he might as well eat it and not let it go to waste.

He wasn’t hungry–well, perhaps he was. His stomach was grumbling after all but he couldn’t for the life of him have some appetite. 

Oh well, at least he had 13 hours of sleep.

It’s currently the next afternoon when Taehyung’s walking down hallways, having a destination in mind but dreading what’s about to come.

He’s on his way to the library where he and Jeongguk have planned to meet up for their paired essay. It shouldn’t be that hard, it’s just a mini assignment and he really should be thankful it’s not a short video they’re doing.

Oh, yes. Taehyung would absolutely jump off a cliff if he were to have to act in front of a camera with Jeongguk.

He opens the doors to the big room as he smells the scents of old and new books and floor polish as the sunlight presses against the tall and wide windows but it isn’t quite able to get through the glass and paint the room entirely.

Taehyung spots Jeongguk almost immediately–almost unfortunately– at a far corner, by the emergency exit. There’s a laptop that’s opened in front of him as his headphones drape around his neck. On the desk beside his laptop is what seems to look like a cup of coffee that’s barely touched. 

Before he decides to start walking towards the lad, Taehyung lets out a slow exhale. Though, no matter how much he tries to mentally prepare for an interaction with Jeongguk, it’s no use.

He walks until he can pull on a chair to set his bag down, naturally, across from Jeongguk because there’s no way he’d sit beside him but being too far from the boy would just be stupid.

Even if Taehyung would have preferred that.

He’d actually prefer not being in the same place as him but he’s not that lucky and he’s aware of that.

“I can’t lie, Jeon, I was partly hoping you’d forget. Or perhaps, willingly not come.” Taehyung starts the conversation, his eyes not being met by the other’s.

Jeongguk doesn’t look up, as if unfazed by the arrival of Taehyung. Perhaps he noticed, maybe he felt it. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Kim.”

“I think you’re just a tad bit early.” Taehyung says as he begins to unzip his bag.

“It’s called being punctual, actually.”

“It’s called being lonely, actually.” The older mocks, pulling out his notebook, a pen and anything they might need.

Oh, one more thing they found out through their professor’s email this morning; Park Bogum, their third partner, won’t be joining them.

He’s apparently sick and won’t be able to attend class the entire week.

It’s just Taehyung and Jeongguk working together.

Jeongguk presses his lips into a straight line, he seems to be holding himself back. “Let’s just get to work, yeah? The quicker we start, the quicker we finish and the quicker we don’t have to be here any longer than we need to.”

Taehyung almost let himself think this was going to be easy–had Jeongguk actually learn how to hold back.

He only nods and they’re not even looking at each other but Jeongguk takes the silence as an agreement.

Surprisingly, for the first twenty minutes, they actually were able to get some progress in.

It’s quite uncomfortable and there’s tones of tenseness but at the very least, they’re productive. They're just two people pretending their silence is nothing but professional. For the first twenty minutes, they achieve that.

Jeongguk types with high organized precision, perfecting every sentence, every paragraph on his paper. Taehyung on the other hand works the way his art does; it’s messy–messy with a lot of back and forth debating whether the words he’s about to write and type in is actually worth keeping in. 

Their notes almost look aesthetic next to each other.

“Alright, listen,” it’s Jeongguk who breaks the long and productive silence. “We should really start with defining proximity itself. The physical versus emotional points.”

Taehyung hums, “you sound like the professor. So professional.”

“Well, it’s a film essay, not therapy.”

Taehyung ignores that, typing something on his laptop. Proximity as the distance between the simple want and the needed permission.

Jeongguk uses the limited opportunity to peer over the edge of his screen. He blinks, “that’s not a definition.”

“It’s an interpretation, mind you.” Taehyung looks at him, more annoyed than hateful.

“Right, which means it’ll be meaningless and torn apart in grading.”

“What are you talking about? It still seems a lot better than whatever corporate memo you’re trying to do.”

Jeongguk’s patience starts to thin, he already feels a headache coming and they just started talking. He exhales through his nose, “Okay, fine, whatever. You go first.”

Taehyung shifts, suddenly feeling too aware with the attention Jeongguk’s keeping on him. “So, Call Me by Your Name. There’s the scene where Elio touches Oliver’s shirt without him being there. The camera doesn’t move, it just…watches. It shows restraint–the kind that hurts.”

Jeongguk listens, his arms folded across his chest while his eyes stay fixed on the back of Taehyung’s laptop as if he could read through the damn cover. “So, it’s the matter of longing. It’s static framing. Just purely symbolic and almost too easy.”

Taehyung frowns, “it’s not easy.”

“It’s sentimental.” Jeongguk shrugs, leaning backwards ‘til his back hits the chair.

“It’s…honest, raw.” 

Jeongguk finally looks at him, “it’s simply indulgent.”

“Indulgent?” Taehyung repeats, letting out a quiet laugh out of disbelief. “You think showing and portraying feelings is self pity?”

For a couple of seconds, Jeongguk lets himself ponder over it. “I think lingering on it is.”

“Hm. That’s rich coming from someone whose favorite movie is about murdering people with metaphorical architecture.”

Jeongguk’s jaw tightens as he rolls his eyes, clearly getting more and more irritated yet his tone stays even, for now. “Excuse you. Parasite builds the meaning behind it. It’s the staircase and the smell and the rain too. Every element serves a kind of structure. It doesn’t necessarily beg for you to empathize with it, just shows you the simplicity of cause and effect.”

The other looks bored. “So, it’s geometry with subtitles.”

“It’s control, Kim.” Jeongguk corrects him. “Precision, accuracy, no bullshit, no manipulation.”

Taehyung shakes his head, his voice lowering as he says his next words. “Maybe manipulation is just a part of being human.”

At first, they only stare at each other for a moment too long until Taehyung breaks eye contact and Jeongguk follows away, turning to his laptop and seeing a blank document.

He sighs before speaking again. “Fine. We’ll just have to include both. Parasite for spatial distance and Call Me by Your Name for the emotionals. We compare, contrast. Should be simple enough.” 

“Nothing about us is simple, doofus.” Taehyung mutters under his breath, mostly to himself.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing, nothing, Jeon.” He says quickly, waving it off. “Put your fingers to use and start writing.”

Jeongguk bites his lip, stopping himself from saying anything back. He types the title Proximity in Contrast: Architecture and Desire.

Taehyung pretends that he doesn’t find it absolutely pretentious, stopping himself from rolling his eyes.

It seems they’re able to work just fine.

Unintentionally and unwantedly, they fall into an almost familiar rhythm. For a short while, it does indeed almost work.

Taehyung dictates sentences while Jeongguk edits them mid air. The scratch of Taehyung’s pen and the clicking of Jeongguk’s keyboard start to almost sync together, unwillingly, of course. Unwillingly but nonetheless harmonious.

They talk and discuss without even looking at each other and perhaps that's why it’s working more than it should, more than they expected and wanted it to.

Their voice alternated into that old, strange tempo they once had back then except they’re older now and their voices have deepened much more. But it’s as if their teamwork never tasted like rust.

Maybe it was just them painting over it to cover it up.

“The physical elevation in Parasite mirrors power–” Jeongguk types.

“–hierarchy,” Taehyung adds.

“–and isolation.” Jeongguk finishes.

Their voices overlap more or less but it’s not cutting each other off, it’s not fighting, rather simply intersecting. And for a fleeting beat, it feels too familiar but they’re too into it to notice and realize it. It’s the way their conversations used to build up on each other or the one thought bleeding into the next as they combine their words that fall harmoniously together.

A rhythm they would never have to plan.

The click and clacks of keys fade into the other background noises, steady and nearly comfortable–but it’s not. The air subtly smells of dust and Jeongguk’s black coffee, bitter and grounding spikes up to Taehyung’s nose but he used to be way too familiar with that too.

Taehyung has his elbow on the table as he rests his chin on his palm, watching the cursor blink across the page but this time, there’s a lot more words on the document.

Jeongguk is still leaning forward, he does that when he’s completely focused, elbows perfectly aligning with the table edge, his jaw tight as he bites his lower lip in concentration.

It’s quite ridiculous how much Taehyung remembers these tiny little details like how Jeongguk still always pauses for a second before hitting ‘enter’.

It’s ridiculous because he shouldn’t notice it anymore, he shouldn’t be remembering it and yet–he does.

“You still tap your pen when you’re thinking,” Taehyung thinks out loud and they both freeze at the comment. He clears his throat.

The pen stops tapping, Jeongguk’s fingers still curved around it and he makes sure not to look up. Quite frankly, he just doesn’t want to see the look on Taehyung’s face.

He doesn’t want to look at Taehyung’s face, period.

So he thinks.

The silence stretches and it begins to go back to being a lot more uncomfortable and noticeable at that.

Of course, Taehyung had to fuck it up.

He curses at himself. Fucking hell, learn how to keep your mouth shut

Finally, Jeongguk remembers how to breathe again, exhaling through his nose and responding. “And you still have to talk even when silence does just fine on its own.”

There’s no aggressive bite to it–there’s beats of sharpness but it comes out more so as simply some tired, recollected truth.

Taehyung huffs out a quieter scoff, “I guess some habits do not in fact die hard.”

Jeongguk keeps typing, “guess not.”

The moment passes cleaner than they would’ve expected it too, like a glass being tipped over as it falls hard but it doesn’t shatter into pieces. They’re cooperating in their own ridiculous way but at least it’s working–at least for the time being.

The two go back to staring at the screen or looking at the notes on their notebooks. They pretend to review, to read as they ignore and reject the internal feeling that something had almost, almost softened between them.

But they rejected it because it didn’t.

Another half an hour later, they ended up making progress to having a quarter of the essay being done. Two clean paragraphs with a partially messy outline and a long long list of things unsaid.

Taehyung reads the last line they agreed on including, aloud from Jeongguk’s laptop screen. His voice stays quiet for only the two of them to hear. “Proximity reveals not only the different kinds of physical relationships but also some sorts of emotional vulnerability.” He pauses, tilting his head. “I must say, that’s actually not bad.”

Jeongguk only shrugs as if he doesn’t care at all and it makes Taehyung want to retract his compliment–half compliment but a compliment nonetheless. “It’s factual.”

“Well, it’s true.” Taehyung corrects, “there’s a fine line between them, a difference.”

The younger looks up at him this time, slightly annoyed. “You always need to talk like feelings make things more valid.”

That seems to hit because in an instant, Taehyung fires back, “Maybe it’s because they do exactly that.” He rolls his eyes, “you always act like pretending not to feel makes you intelligent when it does quite the opposite.” 

Jeongguk makes a face, scowls. “That’s not what I–”

“Yes, it is.” Taehyung interrupts, not giving Jeongguk the space to reply or even breathe. “You treat emotion like it’s contamination, like it’s poisonous.”

The younger sits back, his arms crossing against his chest again like earlier as if it can shield him from Taehyung getting to him.

Unfortunately for him, that’s not how it works.

“Ever wonder that maybe you just treat it like currency? Like if you just hurt enough, you win.”

Taehyung mirrors his expression, anger rising up from the both of them now. “What the hell does that even mean? You’re the one who’s changed here.”

“Excuse me? Me?”

“Yes, you. You didn’t use to prefer the architectural versions of things, you stuck to emotion and– and you would choose feelings over anything else.”

“And look where that got us.”

The pair never knew how much heavier the silence could get–until now.

There’s nothing in the air but something amongst them shatters.

It’s wrong–what they’re doing.

They’re getting personal and bringing up history that’s become such a fragile topic to them. It’s wrong and unfortunate decision making because they’re both aware that they just like to bring it up to hurt each other even more.

They don’t want to talk about it in a way that leads them to fixing their hatred, they don’t have any desire for wanting anything else but despising the other and they’re okay with that.

They’re okay with that because that’s what it’s become for the last two years, this is what they’ve been building and it’s simply impossible to take back every piece of hurt they’ve stuck onto the other.

“That– that’s not–” Taehyung stutters, not knowing what to say but he’s disapproving of the thought of not being able to spit back.

“Not what?” Jeongguk continues, “Why are you acting like you can’t answer your own question?”

“Well maybe–”

“I’m not done talking. Do you seriously think that I just went from all that to suddenly stopping one day as if you had nothing to do with it? It’s–”

Jeongguk stops himself, his voice has gotten lower and sharper, almost too dangerous. His throat tightens as his eyes flicker to the window so that Taehyung’s not in his sight; not even in his peripheral vision. “Just forget it.”

Though, no matter how much Jeongguk tries to not look at Taehyung, he can’t pretend like his presence isn’t there.

For a split second, Taehyung lets down his guard of not caring about it anymore. He pushes, “no, say it. Go on.”

He pushes despite knowing exactly what the other means.

But Jeongguk declines, shaking his head firmly. “We’re not here to unbury and unpack coffins, we’re here to write.”

Taehyung almost laughs from the irony. “That’s exactly what writing is, you idiot.”

Neither of them move, too scared to as if the scene was too fragile, as if they would break the glass that wasn’t shattered yet.

The librarian passes by, shushing other students who had talked too loudly and the sound feels absurdly loud in the middle of their quietness.

Jeongguk audibly sighs, “we’re wasting our time here.”

“You started it.” Taehyung says, pettily.

“Why do you always say that when you don’t want to admit you’re just wrong?”

“Maybe I’m just tired of being wrong for the both of us.”

A pin dropping could be heard louder in the silence that dims between them. From all the things they’ve left unsaid, they continue to choose the ones that’s always the most painful for each other.

Jeongguk’s expression falters–just faintly before his eyes fix back on the screen. He stays quiet and Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to care for the words Jeongguk is typing quickly on his device, he’ll just have to find out later.

A moment passes, Jeongguk closes the document with a decisive click, closing his laptop soon after.

“Let’s stop.” He starts. “We’ll finish another time.”

Taehyung scoffs, “we’re not even halfway done.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re just gonna give up like that? We fight all the time but all of a sudden it’s too much for you?” Taehyung throws a hit.

“I’m not giving up, I’m taking a damn break. You’re not that important for me to fail at a simple essay.”

He gathers his notes into a pile and starts to pack his things inside his bag. Taehyung watches his every move, like he wants to say something he shouldn’t.

“You still think control keeps things from breaking.”

Jeongguk zips his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. He doesn’t walk away just yet, “Maybe you just think breaking them makes them more meaningful.”

They stare at each other across the table, Jeongguk looking down at Taehyung since the other is still sitting down while he’s about to leave.

They seem to have fallen into a different rhythm as time passes them by. Two hurt people who say too much and yet nothing at all.

“I’ll send you what we have.”

“Don’t bother,” Taehyung mutters as he folds his arms, “I’m just gonna fix it.”

“You always try to, don’t you? Not that you’re ever successful.” He spits.

Taehyung frowns, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeongguk huffs through his nose, “nothing. Forget it, Kim.”

And just like that, he’s gone like a ghost that keeps coming back to haunt Taehyung.

Taehyung stays seated for a while longer after the door closes, tapping his leg rapidly. He stares at the screen as two neat paragraphs sit there, impersonal and hollow.

He scrolls to the bottom and types a line,

Maybe sometimes distance only feels safer than it is because it promises you nothing

He stares at it, feels it and then ultimately, deletes it.

It’s just one week, he reminds himself.

By the time Taehyung arrives at his house, the lights have dimmed. A part of him feels even more guilty than he was this morning when he woke up because he has yet again, proven his mother’s point.

You’re never here.

And when you are, you’re tired.

In his defense, it’s not like he was escaping tonight. He genuinely was held back by having to meet Jeongguk in the library and working with him for their assignment. After that, Jimin held him back to have a light dinner.

Usually, he’d decline that but he’s already avoided his family for almost two nights in a row so he decided why the hell not.

Okay, so maybe a small part of it was avoidable and he could’ve had dinner at his house tonight. He just didn’t want to.

If there’s any chance to avoid his mother and his father, as much as he’d feel guilty about it, he’d still choose to do that.

So, here he is, arriving much later than he should with an excuse that won’t fly past his mother once he tells her.

But he’ll try avoiding that too for as long as he can.

There’s a strange kind of quiet at the house, it’s not comfortable nor intolerable–it’s just…absence. The TV mumbles somewhere down the hall, the volume low enough that he can’t hear the actual words being said, it’s just noise.

It would most likely be his father watching the news or a new show he’s become obsessed with. Taehyung wonders what else he does other than wake up, eat, sleep, watch tv and work. He can’t for the life of him think of an answer.

Taehyung slowly takes his shoes off and puts them away on the shoe rack as quietly as he can, not wanting to let anybody know he just came home. He doesn’t bother going down the hall to the living room to say hi to whoever may be watching tv.

It’s not like he would mean the greeting anyway.

Instead, he goes directly up the stairs, not making any sound as if he was a ghost in his own house.

Taehyung can’t recall the last time he felt at home at his own home.

To him, it was just a house with no significance and unfortunately enough, he feels more at home if he wasn’t here.

He walks past his parents’ room, especially being more careful this time around because he does not want to interact with his mother tonight. He’s already argued almost the entire afternoon with Jeongguk, he doesn’t have the patience to hold himself back if his mother were to be a dear and start a fight with him too.

Up next is Hana’s room before his. He can see the lights being on from the tiny gap on the floor right at her door. He decides he wants to bother her.

Taehyung knocks twice before opening the wooden door. “Hey, still up?”

She looks up to him, a faint amused smile sitting at her lips, “obviously. Come in.”

Hana is currently sitting cross legged on her bed as her sketchbook is opened across her lap. A tablet that looks to be a few years old glows dimly beside her, earbuds half dangling from one ear, making sure she can still hear people in case she’ll be called.

She gets a closer view at him as Taehyung comes in and closes the door shut. “You kinda look like shit.”

“Hello to you too, sunshine.” Taehyung knows not to take it to heart though, not when it's from her.

“Hi, Taetae.” Her mouth smiles wider into a grin. “Long day again?”

“Something like that.” He drops his bag on the floor near the door and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Did you eat?” She asks carefully.

Taehyung hums vaguely, not giving her a clear answer.

“Is that a no?” She picks up a pencil and starts to scribble on her sketchbook. “There’s leftover food in the kitchen.”

“I’m good. I ate out with Jimin and Hobi tonight.”

Hana raises an eyebrow, almost like she doesn’t believe it. “Was there a special occasion?”

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Because the last time you chose to willingly go out was about, hm, six months ago?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “okay, missy. You don’t have to keep track of everything. I went out ‘cause I miss them.” He shrugs.

“Okay, I’m glad you did.” She nods, not looking up. “Did you actually eat though? You need to fill up your stomach even if you don’t have the energy to, you know.”

“I’m a couple years older than you, I think I would know that, yes.” He states, moving to lean his back against the headboard.

“Well, just because you’re aware of it doesn’t automatically mean you do it.”

Taehyung huffs out a laugh, “hey, now when did you grow up and actually learn how to form sentences?”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m 17, Tae. It’s been a while from what I can recall.” She shakes her head.

“They grow up so quick.” He sighs, dramatically.

“Okay, dramatic much?” She snickers. “I’m not your kid, dude.”

“Don’t dude me, I practically raised you.”

She finally glances at him for a moment, grinning. “Yes, you did. Thanks for that, I owe you one.”

“Welcome.”

A beat passes, it’s quiet aside from Hana’s hums and notes of music. “So, what are you up to in class nowadays?”

Taehyung thinks for a moment, wondering if he should mention his big assignment but there’s no reason why he should hide it from her. “Well, we have this essay to write.”

“Cool, I’m getting into writing too these days.” She nods, liking the idea of essays and writing articles. “What’s it about?”

“Proximity.”

She raises an eyebrow, “are we talking about romantic proximity where it’s about reading in between the lines or people being too close when they stand next to each other in line at the supermarket type of proximity?”

“Technically, both?” He questions himself. “Specifically film proximity. Like, actual distance but also emotion.”

“Ah,” she pauses after emphasizing her initial response, “so basically, you’re writing about feelings without talking about said feelings.”

Taehyung shrugs, “basically, yes.”

For another short while, the only sound is the scratch of her pencil against the paper. He observes her work, the way her hands move without hesitation, it’s just full of confidence that you won’t mess up. Or perhaps it gives her confidence that she knows she has an eraser.

On the page, he sees rough outlines, sketches of a living room. It looks similar to their own downstairs but with her own little version to it.

“What’s that for?” He asks, nosy.

“Art class. We’re supposed to draw people through places, like– well, I don’t know? How a room tells a story about someone?”

“And who’s this room supposed to belong to?”

“Ours.” Taehyung could’ve guessed that, he thought, but he wanted to ask for confirmation. “Kind of, anyway.”

Taehyung leans forward, looking at the sketch more clearly. It’s not much, it’s not supposed to be yet but he can see her vision.

“That’s,” he pauses, not knowing if he should continue. “That’s a bit depressing.”

Hana only chuckles, “you’re not wrong. But at least it’s honest.”

Taehyung’s gaze land her once more, taking a longer look at her side profile. The years of growth have shown in subtle ways. Her sharp jawline, chipped nail polish on both her hands and feet and her messy hair in a messy bun. 

She’s still young, not even a full adult yet. But it’s not as soft as it once was anymore.

“How’s school?” Taehyung decides to ask because it’s the easiest question to.

She shrugs, not giving it much thought. “It’s alright. I have my exams next week but they shouldn’t be that bad. I’ll survive.”

“You always do.” He replies, perhaps softer than he meant to.

“That’s the bar, isn’t it?” She smiles faintly, “low but achievable.”

They share a small laugh at that.

A few minutes later, she sets the pencil down and stretches her neck. “I talked to mom today.”

Taehyung snorts, “did you?”

Hana looks at him, shaking her head softly. She thinks he’s silly.

“My mom, Taetae.”

He blinks, initially a bit confused and taken aback for a second until the realization hits him.

She’s not talking about Kim Haneun, she’s talking about her biological mom, Haneun’s sister.

Hana is biologically Haneun’s niece, she’s actually Taehyung’s cousin. She was adopted by Haneun when she was a small child because her biological mother was not in a good place.

She was too into the world of drugs, she almost killed herself with it had she continued living her life the way she did before.

Once, maybe twice, Hana’s actual mother tried to sell her when she was a little girl for drug money and that was Haneun’s last straw. Taehyung’s mom couldn’t help but involve herself because she wasn’t about to let a young baby girl get robbed of a good life before she even knew how to talk.

Times have changed and many years have passed since then but Hana will forever be grateful for Taehyung’s mom.

Taehyung himself feels the same way too because he found a special bond with her. It’s a bit strange that he has a bigger bond with her rather than with his older brother but nothing is normal with the Kims anyhow.

“Oh, you did?” Taehyung asks, this time, he’s the one being careful.

Hana hums, “she called during lunch, just for a few minutes. She said she still works at the bakery and she even showed me a picture of a croissant that looks inedible.” She laughs for a moment, “She was still really proud of it, though.”

Taehyung smiles, faintly. “That’s good to hear, it sounds like a lot of progress.”

“Right?” She grins widely, sighing softly. “She’ll be five years sober next month.”

“That’s really good, Hana.”

“Yeah, she’s trying.” She says like it’s the simplest truth in the world, as if this wasn’t a big deal per se.

“You’re happy about that, hm?” He says and despite always having a certain feeling about her mom from what she’s done, Taehyung also feels content about that because she’s still her mom and she is trying.

“Yeah.” She ponders for a fleeting beat, tapping the pencil on her thigh. “It’s a bit weird, though, isn’t it. Talking to her more and more as I get older, it’s like she’s a whole different person but also like she’s still the same. I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, it’s normal.”

“Sure, but it’s also scary.” She admits. “Like, think about it. If she can change that much, anything and everything else can change too.”

He hums, watching the light flicker on her face. “That’s not always bad.”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” she says, mirroring Taehyung’s position beside him. “Sometimes, you still look at me like I’m fragile.” She discloses.

“Old habits, you’re still my baby.” He boops her nose as she scrunches her face from the action.

“Well, unlearn them.”

He almost says ‘I’ll try’ but the words don’t fall out of his mouth.

They stay in their comfortable silence for a long moment, probably thinking similar thoughts.

How, they’ve both survived a lot of trauma as children not even because they wanted to, it was just one of the first things they went through and learned.

In addition, they think about how normalized certain tragedies are to their family that if anyone were to say anything at all, despite the darkness of it, they wouldn’t be that surprised.

They’d sympathize but to them personally, they’ve only heard and experienced similar wounds that some injuries are too familiar, they left scars.

And it’s not like the world isn’t known for its cruelties.

After a quiet stretch, Hana looks at him, studying his face. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“That guy you used to bring around sometimes–Jeongguk.”

Taehyung’s body stiffens first before his body catches up. “What about him?”

She tilts her head, only continuing to observe him and his reactions. “You two still talk?”

“No.”

“Did you guys fight?”

He laughs, short and almost empty. “You could say that, I guess.”

“Oh,” her eyes don’t leave his face but aside from the moment of weakness from being caught off guard, Taehyung’s expression stays unreadable. “You looked happier when he was around.”

“You need to notice less.” Taehyung has to look away, he can’t risk showing anyone anything when it comes to Jeongguk. “I was younger.”

She snorts, “you’re not old, Tae.”

“Really? I sure feel like it.”

“You sound like mom.” She states, seeing the bitter face she expected as Taehyung turns back around to her.

“God fucking forbid.”

That earns him a loud laugh, “you know,” she pauses. “She still brings him up sometimes.”

Taehyung’s eyes stare at Hana’s, trying to see if she’s kidding or not. He does that often to people. “What?”

“You heard me,” she says as she closes her sketchbook. “She does it randomly, though. Like, ‘remember that polite boy who used to come over often?’”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t really know what to say. A part of him has sort of expected something like that but he hasn’t invited Jeongguk over in a couple of years so the thought wasn’t necessarily on his mind.

“She liked him a lot,” Hana adds. “So did I.”

Taehyung shrugs, “who didn’t? Seemed like everyone did.”

“Yeah, well, everyone also thought you’d either end up together or kill each other.” She stops, “guess the second one won.”

Taehyung groans, grabbing a pillow to hide his face. “Why are you saying all this right now?”

“Because at least one of us has to be honest.”

He lifts his head up to look at her, “you shouldn’t care that much.”

Hana leans her head to the side, resting her head against Taehyung’s. “Too bad. You’ve always been my favorite.”

Taehyung grins at that, “I better be.”

For the rest of the night, he tries his hardest not to think about Jeongguk.

He fails.