Chapter Text
While they talked they remembered
the years of their youth,
and each thought of the other
as he had been at another time.
-John Williams, Stoner
Breezy days
deserve the union
of two old friends.
-Sanober Khan, A touch, A tear, A tempest
Jungkook sees him from across the crowded room the moment he enters, like someone installed a zoom feature on his eyes and set the automatic-focus to Taehyung. Or maybe Jungkook’s eyes have just been this way for years. Maybe they adapted to work in conjunction with his internal Taehyung-sonar—a weird resulting quirk of some new kind of rapid-speed evolutionary process.
Minus the whole natural-selection aspect, of course. Jungkook’s never been great with metaphors.
Or biology.
He’s facing the other direction, talking to someone Jungkook can’t see. It doesn’t matter—Jungkook knows the slope of that shoulder, the cock of that hip. He knows the curl of those long, slender fingers; the exact caliber of pressure they’re exerting around the smooth glass neck of that beer bottle, dewy with condensation. Taehyung’s other hand is gesticulating wildly at whomever he’s talking to.
Eight years. May as well have been eight days.
Jungkook had known Taehyung would be here, of course. He’d known it undoubtedly for the past few weeks—ever since Jimin had mentioned it, his concerned eyes searching Jungkook’s face for some sort of reaction. But also, in a way, he’s been preparing for it for years.
It’s been surprisingly easy for the two of them to avoid each other since college, their little group of seven fanned out across the globe. They tend to meet in small clusters here and there, rarely more than two or three of them at once. Jungkook will fly out to spend a weekend with Jimin and Yoongi in LA; sometimes Seokjin will come, too. Or he’ll meet up with Namjoon at Cambridge, or Namjoon will come visit with Jungkook and Hoseok in Seoul. It seems to work out fairly naturally.
But he’d figured eventually something big would happen; some sort of huge, unavoidable life event. It was inevitable, really—like death and taxes—the two of them would have to be in the same place at the same time.
So when eventually had finally turned into imminently, in the form of Jimin and Yoongi’s engagement, Jungkook hadn’t really been all that surprised. And now he’s standing here, in the middle of their engagement party, in some obnoxiously trendy Manhattan restaurant, staring at the back of Taehyung’s familiar dark, tousled hair.
To be more precise—he’s staring at the back of the head that happens to be attached to the very first (and possibly only, but he prefers to avoid thinking about that part) person he’s ever been truly, painfully, head-over-heels in love with.
The person whom prior to sixty seconds ago, he hadn’t seen for almost a decade.
“Hey, stranger.”
Jungkook jumps when he feels a warm hand at the small of his back. He turns around and finds himself staring into Hoseok’s warm, familiar eyes.
“Hey!” Jungkook says, pulling him in for a tight hug. Hoseok squeezes back just as hard, his gentle laugh tickling Jungkook’s ear.
“Good to see you,” he says, warmly. Then he arches a single eyebrow. “Though it’s kind of strange that I’ve seen pretty much everyone else more recently than I’ve seen you. You know, considering you’re the only one who lives on the same continent as me.”
Jungkook shrugs sheepishly. He hasn’t been home in a while. If he’s honest, his apartment in Seoul has been empty for the better part of the last year. He’s been jumping from project to project, and had ended up flying straight from Madrid to New York after finishing the shoot on this last one.
“I’m going back after this,” Jungkook says. “I swear. We’ll have lunch next week. Or I’ll come by with dinner?”
Jungkook has always preferred Hoseok’s place to his own. Warm and comfortable, it’s stuffed full of books and plants and art; his giant solid-oak work table scattered with all his pens and sticky-notes, dotted with teetering piles of all the manuscripts he’s endlessly sorting through. Hoseok’s place feels more like home than Jungkook’s cold, utilitarian apartment ever has.
“Sounds good,” Hoseok says. “I just sent two projects to print. I should have lots of time.”
Hoseok is an editor and translator for one of South Korea’s biggest publishing houses. He’s been steadily making a name for himself over the past few years and Jungkook couldn’t be more proud. Out of everyone he knows, he thinks Hoseok might deserve it the most. He’s been a stabilizing presence in Jungkook’s life, the two of them preternaturally single and dedicated to their respective careers.
“Well if it isn’t my two favourite overachievers!” someone yells, as if on cue.
Jungkook cracks a grin as Seokjin descends upon them, wrapping them both up at once, in what could more fairly be called a choke-hold than a hug.
“How’ve you been, how’s the home country, who are you fucking, what’s the gossip?” Seokjin asks as he lets them both go. “Tell me everything.”
Jungkook grunts as he wiggles out of Seokjin’s grip, and then stops to readjust his suit.
“You’re asking us for gossip?” Hoseok replies, eyes glittering with amusement.
Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Right, I forgot you guys actually grew up.” He turns to his left and makes an exaggerated gagging sound.
Despite Yoongi being the only one in their college friend group who was born in the US, Seokjin spent the most time here growing up, and it shows. He’s a little bit louder and more boisterous than the rest of them; handsome in an effortless, movie-star sort of way. He has the kind of presence that easily fills up a room.
Jungkook loves him fiercely.
“Some of us don’t have fat trust funds, or jobs at daddy’s billion dollar company to fall back on,” Jungkook says with a wink.
Seokjin’s unbridled laughter rings out through the room, high and clear over the din of conversation. “Touché, my young Padawan. Nice to see you’re still in there.”
“Remember when he was a sweet, naive, little kid?” Hoseok asks, full of overdramatic wistfulness.
Seokjin puts an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders and shakes his head in mock sorrow. “They grow up so fast.”
“You guys realize I’ll be thirty in a few months, right?”
Both Seokjin and Hoseok had been in their fourth year when Jungkook started at NYU. They’ve spent their entire lives making sure he doesn’t forget that he’s the baby.
Seokjin clutches his heart. “Stop! I can’t bear it! My sweet little angel is becoming a man!”
“Okay,” Jungkook says, swatting at Seokjin and missing when he leans out of the way. “You’re done.”
Seokjin straightens up from his dodge and looks around the room. “You guys seen anyone else?”
Hoseok nods. “I’ve been here for a while. I’ve seen everyone except Namjoon.”
“I just got here, I’ve only seen you two,” Jungkook says. “Where are Yoongi and Jimin at?”
“I saw them a minute ago.” Hoseok joins Seokjin in scanning the crowd. “I think they’re with Yoongi’s parents.”
“I talked to them earlier, with Tae,” Seokjin says.
Hoseok glances at Jungkook, and Jungkook tries his best to act like just hearing Taehyung’s name doesn’t make him break out in a cold sweat.
“You okay?” Hoseok asks.
Seokjin turns back to them in confusion. Jungkook can see the moment it clicks into place. His eyes get wide and he sucks a quick breath in before letting it out slowly. “Right,” he says. “I guess this is kind of the big night.”
Jungkook can’t help rolling his eyes. “The big night?”
“Well? Isn’t it?”
Jungkook laughs nervously. “You’re making it sound like I’m about to lose my virginity.”
“More like you’re about to have to make small talk with the guy you lost your virginity to.”
Hoseok shoots Seokjin a dirty look.
“What?” Seokjin asks. “Am I supposed to pretend it’s not the first time they’ve been in each other’s presence in a decade?”
“No, it’s fine,” Jungkook says, waving a hand in the air. He actually appreciates that Seokjin doesn’t sugarcoat anything. “Also it’s been eight years, not a decade.”
Seokjin smirks. “The fact that you know that tells me everything I need to know about your mental state. Let’s get a drink.”
They find Namjoon at the bar, leaning on one elbow, sipping from a glass of whiskey. He cuts an impressive figure as always—tall and broad-shouldered, in tortoiseshell frames and a perfectly-tailored navy suit. He looks intelligent (which he is), and intimidating (which he absolutely isn’t), until he notices them and his face splits into a silly grin. Jungkook has always loved how Namjoon’s smile can change his entire demeanor, going from imposing to child-like in the blink of an eye.
“Thank God,” he says, hugging each of them in turn, and giving Jungkook a giant clap on the back. “I haven’t been able to find anyone I know.”
Seokjin snorts. “How long have you been standing here?”
“Fuck off.” Namjoon shoots him the finger.
“I’m just saying. I’ve almost never seen you without your glasses on, but you’re the only person I know who can get lost in a public bathroom.”
Namjoon shakes his head, but he’s cracking a smile. “That was one time! And I wasn’t lost! I was just…”
“Admiring the urinals?” Seokjin finishes.
Hoseok shoves Seokjin playfully. “Stop bullying your friends.” He turns back to Namjoon. “Did you just get in?”
Namjoon nods. “I basically got off the plane, checked into the hotel, showered and came here.”
“How’s the stuffy academic life?” Seokjin asks, earning another dirty look from Hoseok.
Hoseok’s always been protective of Namjoon. They’d been roommates all through college, the two of them bonding over their tendency to take school more seriously than the rest of them. Hoseok had done a combined six-year BA/MA in comparative lit at NYU, while Namjoon had gone on to do his masters at Princeton. Even though Namjoon hadn’t gone very far and still spent most weekends with them in New York, they’d both seemed kind of lost without each other in the later years. Hoseok is a bit of a caretaker type, and Namjoon, while brilliant, sometimes needs caretaking for things you wouldn’t expect.
“Stuffy as always,” Namjoon responds.
Hoseok presses his eyebrows together and peers at Namjoon. “Stressed?”
“I’m always stressed.” Namjoon shrugs, but he’s smiling.
Jungkook doesn’t know how Namjoon handles all the pressure. He’ll be completing his PhD at Cambridge next year, and has started applying for teaching positions. But when Namjoon is stressed it usually has less to do with academic or career stuff and more to do with regular life stuff.
“There you guys are!”
They all turn to see Jimin marching over, dragging Yoongi along behind him.
Yoongi laughs as they approach. “Should’ve known you’d all be by the bar!”
Jimin releases Yoongi from his clutches and starts hugging them all one by one. “Thank God you made it, I’m on the verge of changing my mind about marrying into this family.”
“That bad?” Jungkook asks.
Jimin rolls his eyes. “Planning this wedding is going to be a nightmare.”
Jimin and Yoongi have been together since before Jungkook had really met either of them. Jungkook and Jimin had gone to the same high school in Busan, but Jimin is two years older, and they’d barely known each other back then. They’d only been forced to connect by their loving and slightly overbearing parents (who happen to be friends) after Jungkook had gotten into NYU through the same international scholarship program as Jimin.
Jungkook had heard about Yoongi endlessly from Jimin before actually meeting him, but somehow he’d still ended up being completely different from Jungkook’s expectations. While it’s true that Yoongi had been born in the US, he’d spent most of his childhood in Seoul. His Korean father had fallen in love with his Korean-American mother while on a business trip to New York in 1991, and they’d gotten married soon after. They’d decided to raise Yoongi and his brother in Korea, but they spent a lot of time in the US as well. They sent him to finish his last two years of high school at the same posh international boarding school in upstate New York that Seokjin had attended.
Yoongi and Seokjin’s families have been close for decades, and the two of them have been friends for essentially their entire lives (minus the three months longer Seokjin has been alive). Seokjin’s father is one of the most successful real estate developers in the world, and Yoongi’s father is the CEO of MinCorp, one of the biggest multinational conglomerates in existence.
Because of this, Jungkook had been prepared for Yoongi to be a spoiled, snobby brat—despite Jimin’s protestations to the contrary. But it had quickly become apparent that Yoongi was actually quite down to earth. In fact, Yoongi had seemed not only embarrassed, but repulsed by his family’s affluence. Jungkook had been instantly delighted by his dry sense of humour and quiet, restrained intelligence.
Mrs. Min also comes from a very wealthy, old-monied family, and is the kind of person for whom appearances are everything. She’s very particular about things like weddings. Which is quite unfortunate for Yoongi, who tends not to be very fond of his family’s obscene displays of wealth.
It’s even more unfortunate for Jimin, who has to deal with both of them.
“How’s Yoongi doing?” Jungkook asks quietly, so nobody else can hear.
“Oh, you know, he’s been trying to convince me to run off and elope since before he even proposed.”
Jungkook laughs. “Not surprising.”
“Hey, have you seen Tae yet?” Jimin asks.
Jungkook sighs. He wishes everyone wouldn’t keep reminding him. He’s anxious enough as it is. “Seen, yes. Made eye contact with or spoken to, no.”
“You can’t just avoid him.”
“I just got here!”
Jimin narrows his eyes. “Okay, fine. But seriously, this has to stop, okay? It’s been long enough.”
“I know! Fuck off, I just need a second. And a drink.”
“Sure,” Jimin says. “Have at it.”
Jungkook turns to face the bar. He takes a single step and looks up, and all of a sudden Taehyung is… there. Standing right in front of him. For a moment Jungkook forgets how to breathe. His lungs seize up completely like two heavy, useless boulders in his chest.
Taehyung’s face looks exactly the same, except more somehow; aged in the most unfair way so he’s twice as handsome as his already impossibly-handsome younger self. It’s sort of disgusting, really.
Or that’s what Jungkook tries to tell himself.
He’s seen photos of course. Not many, which Jungkook has always assumed was by design (either Taehyung’s alone, or more likely, a concerted effort between him and the rest of their friends). A few images had slipped through the cracks over the years, though; popping up heart-stoppingly unannounced on random social media feeds—a shot of Taehyung and Hoseok clinking glasses over dinner; Yoongi’s face squished miserably between Taehyung’s and Jimin’s; Namjoon and Taehyung smiling into the camera at the top of the Eiffel Tower, all of Paris laid out behind them.
He’d love to say he hasn’t studied those photos in minute detail, hadn’t saved every single one in a hidden album to be pulled out late at night, alone in bed, during his loneliest and most self-pitying moments.
That would of course be a lie.
He’s agonized over those photos; stared them down; studied every seemingly inconsequential detail; zoomed in on Tae’s face, his own flush with embarrassment. It’s almost too easy. A couple clicks and the slip of two fingers over his screen, and he can isolate all of his favourite parts in a single perfect frame: Taehyung’s soft, full lips; one perfect protruding collarbone; a single extended finger.
It’s different in person. It’s so incredibly, painfully different.
“Hi,” Taehyung says, simply. His voice is the same—warm and deep, comforting and mysterious at the same time.
“Hi,” Jungkook says.
He’s tempted to say something stupid, some unfunny joke to lighten the mood. Long time no see. Feels like I haven’t seen you in years. He’s too unsure, though. He’s afraid of making light of it, of being insensitive to the pain he caused. At the same time he’s afraid of giving it too much importance, of assuming Taehyung is still carrying the heavy weight of their past with him—assuming Jungkook had ever meant that much to him.
He’s thought about this moment so many times. He’s pictured it going every possible way. But in the end maybe that’s what makes it so impossible. He’s confused himself; wrapped all the varying threads of possibility into a giant, tangled up knot—Jungkook caught firmly in the center.
Instead he freezes up, which is actually so typically him. How else could it have gone?
They look at each other, cautious gazes clouded with hesitation. They’re interrupted by a small noise—a pointed clearing-of-the-throat—projecting out from behind Taehyung’s left shoulder.
Taehyung looks momentarily confused, like he’s been woken up from a deep sleep and forgotten where he is. But it’s a short-lived blunder. His acclimation is swift, features rearranging themselves in an instant as he steps deftly to the side, revealing a tall, beefy dark-haired man. He looks like he spends about eight hours a day in the gym, and another two in a tanning booth.
“Oh, sorry,” Taehyung says, as the man settles in beside him. “Luca, this is Jungkook.”
Jungkook hasn’t heard his own name in Taehyung’s voice in so long that he completely misses the strange, new name, at first. It’s like an instant time machine. He’s suddenly transported to his college dorm, to the musty old library, to their favorite coffee shop, to the very first apartment he’d lived in without his parents.
It’s so visceral he can almost smell it.
“Jungkook, this is Luca,” Taehyung says. “My boyfriend.”
An icy cold fist closes over Jungkook’s heart and squeezes. Hard. He’s pleased with himself for swallowing the gasp that tries to escape.
“Oh,” he says. “Uh. Hi.”
Luca reaches a meaty hand out, and it takes Jungkook a second too long to reach out and grip it back. The awkwardness is painful.
“Nice to meet you,” Luca says, pumping Jungkook’s hand up and down so vigorously his entire body moves.
“Yeah.” Jungkook has forgotten how to make pleasant small talk. “You, too.”
When Luca releases Jungkook from his grip, his hand immediately coils around Taehyung’s waist and pulls him close. Jungkook can’t stop looking at the tanned skin of his fingers clutching at Taehyung’s expensive-looking charcoal suit.
He shouldn’t feel this way about his college boyfriend who he hasn’t spoken to for the better part of a decade—this twisting stab of furious nausea. He shouldn’t, and yet he does. It’s so intense that for a moment he wants to break something.
He tells himself it’s because it’s been so long; that even though it’s been years, he hasn’t seen Taehyung in those years. He doesn’t know Taehyung as anything other than his boyfriend. So it’s like the years don’t matter, like he’s gone directly from Taehyung being his to Taehyung being someone else’s. It’s jarring, is all.
That’s what he tells himself.
He’s saved from further awkwardness by the sound of silverware clinking on glass, and Yoongi’s brother shouting over the crowd from where he’s standing on a chair.
“Can I get everyone’s attention!”
No, Jungkook thinks, taking the opportunity to study Taheyung’s side profile. No, you can’t have my attention.
Jungkook never really settled is the problem.
He’d gone back home after college ended, moved in with his parents for a year while he took contract jobs and saved some money. He’d leased a little apartment eventually. And then he’d just sort of kept going like that. The contracts kept coming, with more money attached as he built up his reputation. He’d take each one as it came, sending him all over the globe—a month in São Paulo, a few weeks in Johannesburg, half a year in Reykjavik. And eventually the little apartment in Busan that had never really felt like home made way for a bigger apartment in Seoul that felt exactly the same. A little landing spot between gigs, somewhere to store his stuff and sleep, with a workspace to edit and answer emails and wait for the next job to roll in.
And that was it really. That’s been his life for the last eight years.
It makes seeing everyone easy. When he’s at home he sees Hoseok at least twice a week, meeting for lunch or dinner, going to a movie, hanging out at one or the other of their places.. And it’s usually pretty easy for one or both of them to fly out to Cambridge to see Namjoon, or for Namjoon to come see them. And Namjoon is always going to conferences and on research visits all over the place, so Jungkook frequently sees him in any number of random places around the world.
Jimin and Yoongi’s place in LA feels like home, too; their warm, eclectic apartment above the LGBTQ youth center and coffee shop they run. It’s not unusual for Jungkook to spend a month at a time in LA, sometimes even a couple. It’s gotten to the point that they refer to their guestroom as Jungkook’s. And then Seokjin flies in from New York, or the three of them fly out to see Seokjin. A few times they’ve all been together at once, the six of them crowded into one of their little spaces. But it always feels kind of sad to Jungkook when it’s the six of them, much more than when they’re in smaller groups.
When there’s six of them it feels like someone’s missing.
Jungkook knows there must have been other times too, six people minus himself. He wonders if it feels the same way for Taehyung as it does for him—like there’s a giant hole in the wall that everyone insists on ignoring.
So maybe that’s why even with all the nerves and unease, the awkward sense of anxiety, Jungkook is also feeling weirdly at peace with Taehyung here.
“Where are you having the wedding?” Namjoon asks. They’re all sitting around one of the tables, sipping on drinks—the seven of them plus Luca. Jimin is perched on Yoongi’s lap, and they both visibly recoil at Namjoon’s question.
“Hit a sore spot?” Hoseok asks.
“We’re eloping,” Yoongi says firmly.
Jimin rolls his eyes. “We’re not eloping. We’re just… negotiating.”
“Negotiating?” Jungkook asks.
Jimin sighs. “Yoongi’s parents want to pay for the whole thing. They want a whole production, you know? Yoongi… doesn’t.”
“I just don’t want my parents to do what they always do and take over the entire thing. I don’t want it to be some stuffy society affair. It’s our wedding.”
“What do you want?” Taehyung asks Jimin.
Yoongi answers for him. “He wants the giant production.”
Jimin slaps lightly at Yoongi’s chest. “It’s not that!” he says. Then, a moment later, “Well, kind of.”
Jungkook smiles. Jimin has always wanted a big wedding. He loves people, and will take any reason to celebrate. Once in college he somehow packed 30 students into the tiny dorm room he shared with Taehyung.
“I definitely don’t want to elope,” Jimin continues. “And I don’t want to be disrespectful to Yoongi’s parents. And I want Yoongi to be happy. But I also want to have some sort of say in my own wedding. So I’m just…”
“Negotiating?” Hoseok finishes, with a smile.
“Yeah,” Jimin says. “I’m working on it.”
Namjoon leans forward and grips Jimin’s arm. “Wherever it is, I’ll be there.”
“I hope so,” Jimin smiles. “We were hoping you’d officiate.”
“Me?” Namjoon asks, blinking rapidly in confusion.
Jimin nods. Namjoon shifts his gaze to Yoongi, and Yoongi just shrugs. “Who else?”
“But I’m not like… ordained.”
Yoongi laughs, and Jimin smiles fondly at Namjoon. “It takes five seconds online, Joon. I think you can handle it.”
Namjoon nods seriously. “Oh. Okay. Well. I’d be honored!”
“To the good Reverend Kim Namjoon,” Seokjin says, raising his glass.
Jungkook tries his best not to look at Taehyung when their glasses clink together.
Later, Jimin corners Jungkook with a serious look on his face.
“What?” Jungkook asks.
“Huh?”
“You have that look. Like you’re going to ask me to do something I don’t want to do.”
Jimin hesitates. “Not exactly. I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you about something, though.”
“Okay.” Jungkook is confused now. This seems different, more serious than Jimin turning on his charm and somehow getting Jungkook to agree to spend an afternoon moving heavy furniture around or something.
“I have a question. A request. But it might be uncomfortable.”
“Okay,” Jungkook says again.
“I’d like you to be one of my groomsmen.”
“Of course!” Jungkook says, immediately. “I’d be happy to!”
Jimin holds a hand up, palm facing Jungkook. “Wait,” he says. “I’m not done.”
Jungkook nods, indicating for Jimin to continue.
“I’m asking Tae to be my best man.”
“Okay. Sure.” Jungkook had kind of figured. Who else would it be? He sees the awkwardness, but it is what it is. He’ll deal with it.
“Yoongi and I decided we’re only having two groomsmen each. I’m having you and Tae and he’s having Hobi and Jin. And Joon will officiate. And then everyone’s involved in some way, and we don’t have to start wading through cousins and high school friends and our friends from LA, and dealing with hurt feelings. We can just say we’re having our college crew and that’s it.”
“Okay,” Jungkook says. “Makes sense.” He’s still not really following.
“So this means my only groomsmen are you and Tae. You’ll have to be around each other for the wedding. A lot. And you’ll have to stand up beside me, and sit together at the head table. And pose for lots of pictures.”
It’s true that it’s an awful lot of time to be spending with Taehyung. It will definitely be uncomfortable, and probably pretty awkward. But there are worse things. He wouldn’t even consider saying no.
“Jimin, I get it. It’s fine, okay?”
“Really?” Jimin looks uncertain. “Because I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, but also I can’t imagine doing this without you guys.”
“Really,” Jungkook says. “It doesn’t matter, Jimin. It’s your day, Tae and I will be fine. Two of our best friends are getting married. That’s worth enduring a little awkwardness.” He stops for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. “I mean, it’s worth it for me. I shouldn’t speak for Tae.”
He’s suddenly nervous. Maybe Taehyung doesn’t want to be around him that much. Thinking about it hurts more than he wants to admit. He’s embarrassed, too. Why had he made it all about his own comfort? He’s the one who did this to them. His comfort shouldn’t be anyone’s top concern.
“It’s fine,” Jimin says, coming to his rescue. “I already asked him. He’s fully on board.”
“Oh. Okay then.” He’s pleased, but still unsettled by the thought that Taehyung might feel trapped—that being around Jungkook might be torturous for him.
But there isn’t much he can do about it. “Well if Taehyung’s good with it then there’s no problem. I’m fully in.”
Jimin looks visibly relieved. “Thank you Jungkook, really.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for.”
“Well it’s one thing off my mind anyway. Turns out getting married is kind of stressful!”
Jungkook laughs. “Well, you kind of asked for it by getting engaged to the black sheep son of the Min dynasty.”
“I know right?” Jimin sighs. “If only he weren’t such a snack.”
“Hey,” someone says, to Jungkook’s right.
Jungkook looks up from the mile-long buffet table where he’s piling tiny avocado toasts on his plate, only to see Taehyung’s boyfriend grinning at him.
“Hey,” Jungkook responds, trying his best to sound casual. “Luca, right?”
Luca nods. “Sorry, what was your name again? All these new faces at once!” He speaks in heavily-accented English. Jungkook knows Taehyung lives in Florence now so it’s not a huge leap to assume Luca is Italian.
Jungkook tries not to roll his eyes. “It’s Jungkook.”
“Cool,” Luca says, following Jungkook down the table.
Jungkook wonders if it would be weird to excuse himself to the bathroom with a plate full of food. Probably. But he’s thinking he can live with that if the alternative is continuing to endure this intensely uncomfortable interaction.
“You went to the university with T and the guys, yes?”
T? Jungkook thinks. Really? He just nods in response.
“This is cool,” Luca says. “It must be exciting times for you, little reunion with the friends.”
Jungkook cannot imagine Taehyung having a serious conversation with this guy to save his life. Taehyung hates boring small talk. But then again, he doesn’t really know Taehyung anymore. He tries to move a little quicker as they reach the end of the table. He piles a couple shrimp onto his plate and then shoots Luca a quick grin as if to say so long.
Except when he turns to go, Luca is falling into step right beside him, having skipped the shrimp entirely.
“Shellfish allergy,” Luca says, as if he knows what Jungkook is thinking. “I was born with it.”
“Uh. Right. Bummer,” Jungkook replies. He has an itching desire to ask about the over/under on people who were born with shellfish allergies versus people who acquired them later in life.
He was born with it? Who says that?
Jungkook doesn’t really have a destination in mind, and he searches desperately for some familiar face. Anyone will do. He’d even take Yoongi’s dad, who would likely bore him to tears talking about his investment portfolio. But he can’t see anyone at all, so he’s left to stop awkwardly near a wall and pretend he’s interested in Luca’s shellfish allergy or whatever he’s talking about now.
“It’s the first one, right?”
“Huh?” Jungkook asks.
“The first wedding?” Luca asks. “For this little college group.”
Jungkook doesn’t like how he says it. This little college group. Maybe it’s just his accent, but he thinks there’s some sort of sense of disdain behind it—a not entirely mild air of superiority.
“Yeah, I guess,” Jungkook says.
“This is nice, to catch up with the friends from your youth.”
Jungkook just chews his food and stares straight ahead. What’s with this guy? Can’t he take a hint?
Luca seems oblivious to Jungkook’s lack of interest though, because he just keeps on talking.
“I think maybe you will get another chance for this, sooner than the expectations,” Luca says in a sing-song voice that Jungkook knows is supposed to make him curious, but instead just makes him want to punch through a wall.
“Sure,” he replies. “We’ll all be at the wedding, too.” Jungkook is 99.9% sure that’s not what Luca was getting at, but it brings him a small bit of joy to think he might be irritating Luca as much as Luca is irritating him.
“I think it will be even sooner than this,” Luca says with a wink. “Perhaps an evening such as this one?”
Jungkook has no fucking clue what he’s talking about, and he’s pretty sure he’s never cared about anything less.
“Yeah, maybe, who knows. The wedding’s not for a year.”
Luca slips a bit and his face briefly flashes with visible irritation, before he masks it back up again. “I mean to say, I think maybe we will meet at another engagement party before this year is out.”
Jungkook hates himself for reacting. It’s a mistake. He can see the satisfaction on Luca’s face when he turns his head in shock.
“It’s a little secret,” Luca says smugly. “T knows nothing, so don’t say anything, please. I expect it’s safe for me telling it to you, because I know you don’t stay in the touch. I have the rings narrowed to three, so when I choose... then I propose.”
“You’re going to propose?” Jungkook asks. “To Taehyung?”
To his Taehyung?
It’s odd how bothered he is, after all these years. It hurts in a real, physical way. It’s so intense he can’t even pretend it’s because he can’t imagine Taehyung with this guy, of all people. Though that part of it is also true. It doesn’t matter how much Taehyung has changed, this guy makes no sense with him. People don’t change that much. But that’s not really the part that’s bothering him. It’s that Taehyung might be getting married at all.
To someone who isn’t Jungkook.
It’s a ridiculous thought to have about someone you haven’t even spoken to in eight years. Jungkook seems to be having a lot of those tonight.
“I am, yes,” Luca says. “It will depend on his answer of course, but I have no worries. He’s been dropping the hints.”
Jungkook is stunned. It makes absolutely no sense at all.
“Speaking of T, I should go to find him,” Luca says. “Nice to meeting you, Jungkook.” He pronounces Jungkook’s name so incorrectly that there’s no room to doubt he did it on purpose.
Jungkook stands there stunned, holding a plate full of food that he suddenly has no interest in eating.
“Well if it isn’t Jan Cook! I haven’t seen you in years!” Seokjin says, approaching from behind. “How’s the husband and kids?”
Jungkook manages a thin laugh. He wonders how long Seokjin’s been standing there. Clearly long enough to hear Luca butcher his name.
“That guy kind of sucks, hey?” Jungkook asks.
“Oh yeah,” Seokjin says, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Big time suckage. Complete and total buffoon.”
“He said they’re getting engaged. Him and Taehyung.”
“Taehyung… Taehyung…” Seokjin says with a furrowed brow, as though he’s trying to place him. “Oh!” he says suddenly. “You mean T?”
This time Jungkook’s laugh is genuine. He punches Seokjin playfully in the shoulder.
“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “That’s the rumor going around anyway. Started by Luca.”
“You think Taehyung will say yes?”
Seokjin shrugs. “I wouldn’t think Taehyung would be seen in public with that guy, but here we are.”
“Yeah. Here we are.”
They stand for a moment longer and then Seokjin squeezes Jungkook’s bicep. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “I’m fine.” He puts his full plate down on the nearest table. “Could use another drink though.”
“You read my mind!”
“I have a job for you,” Seokjin says, downing the rest of his drink and then slamming the glass down. They’re leaning against the bar, elbows propped behind them. After the conversation with Luca Jungkook has been happy to stay close to the alcohol.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Why is everyone propositioning him tonight? “What is it now? A riveting high-rise? A modern office block? Maybe a mall?”
Seokjin snorts. “Something better, actually.”
Jungkook takes work from Seokjin a couple times a year. It’s not really his thing, shooting a bunch of sparse yet tastefully decorated rooms and editing the footage into what amounts to a glorified slideshow. But he does it as a favor to Seokjin—and as an excuse to see him. Plus, if he’s honest, the money is good and it helps free him up to take more interesting projects that pay a whole lot less.
“What could be better than a luxury highrise in the greatest city on earth?”
Jungkook doesn’t think Seokjin has ever given a shit about real estate. He doesn’t really give a shit about work, is the thing. He takes a lot of judgment for it, but it’s the thing Jungkook admires most about him. He doesn’t measure his success or joy on what he does for a living. And considering he has the immense privilege that he could choose not to work altogether, it’s always puzzled Jungkook why he doesn’t—why he’d taken the job in his dad’s real estate development firm. Jungkook had asked him once and his only response had been “Idle hands are the devil’s playground, Jungkook.”
“You’ll find out eventually. I’m still sorting out the details. I think you’ll be surprised.”
“Well hit me up when the details are sorted.”
Jungkook is curious, despite himself.
Jungkook wanders out onto the balcony to get some air, and maybe to get a little space, too. He’s been thrown off ever since that conversation with Luca. Maybe he’s been thrown off since he spotted Taehyung’s shoulder on the other side of the room.
It’s warm out, and the sky is clear and twinkling. Jungkook rests his arms on the edge of the railing and looks down to the street below, at the traffic and lights and people. The city smells the same as it did in college, so he has this odd feeling like he’s 18 again, young and naive and hopeful. On another night it would be comforting, but on this one it’s only disconcerting. He feels strange and out of place, like he’s floating through a dream world.
“Hey,” he hears a voice say softly, approaching to his left.
“Hey,” he replies, eyes still glued to the street below.
It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to look to know it’s Taehyung.
“You okay?” Taehyung asks, leaning down on his forearms in the exact same way as Jungkook.
“Yeah,” Jungkook lies. “Just needed some air.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
They stand there for a long time, and Jungkook wills his brain to say something, anything. He doesn’t even know where to start. It’s too much anyway—more than he could possibly say on this balcony, at their friends’ engagement party, Taehyung’s soon-to-be fiance lurking somewhere in the shadows.
He wants to say he’s sorry, for all of it—for not paying enough attention, for taking what they had for granted, for taking Taehyung for granted. He wants to say he’s sorry for not letting Taehyung know how much he mattered, how maybe he’s the only person that’s ever really mattered. He wants to say he’s sorry for how it ended, for not trying hard enough to find him. He wants to say he’s sorry for letting it go on so long, for letting them end up like this, here—two strangers standing side by side with too much and nothing at all to say. He wants to say he’s sorry for a million other little things. But he doesn’t have enough time.
Enough time doesn’t exist.
“It’s nice seeing you again,” Taehyung says.
“Is it?” Jungkook is surprised. He’d assumed it’s the last thing on earth Taehyung would have wanted, being forced to spend an evening in his presence.
“Yeah, Jungkook. It is. Believe it or not I wish you no ill will.”
“It’s nice seeing you again, too,” Jungkook replies.
It isn’t altogether true. He’s not sure nice is the word he’d use. It’s painful. Awkward. Intensely bittersweet. Uncomfortable to the point it’s excruciating at times. And yet somehow, somewhere in all this mess of emotions, he’s elated. He’d endure all of the bad feelings just to stand here beside Taehyung forever.
“It’s weird being back here.”
Jungkook nods. “It always is. It’s like going back in time.”
“I haven’t been here since college, actually.”
“Really? Not even once? To see Jin?”
Taehyung shakes his head. “Nope. He’s come to see me. And we’ve been at Jimin and Yoongi’s. We both spent a weekend at Namjoon’s last month. But never here.”
Jungkook wants to ask, but he doesn’t. He thinks he knows what the answer would be, and he doesn’t think he could hear it. He doesn’t want to make Taehyung say it, either.
“I’ve been back a few times. It’s been a while though,” he says instead
“I heard you went back to Busan.”
“I did for a while. Seoul now. But I’m not really anywhere. Or maybe I’m everywhere. I don’t know.”
“I’ve seen some of your work,” Taehyung says.
“You have?”
“Yeah. Not much. A few things here and there.”
Jungkook is surprised. It’s not like he works on a lot of high-profile stuff. Most of it is niche—travel videos, nature documentaries. And then the corporate and commercial bullshit that he takes to pay the bills so he can work on travel videos and nature documentaries. Someone would have to seek those things out.
Oh, Jungkook thinks.
“It’s not much,” he says. “Nothing groundbreaking.”
Taehyung shrugs. “It’s what you’ve always loved, though. Small things. Attention to detail. Seems like you carved out a nice little career.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook replies. “It keeps me busy.”
They’re quiet again, and Jungkook is desperately searching his mind for something else to talk about—anything so Taehyung won’t leave, so this can last just a few moments longer. It occurs to him he hasn’t really asked about Taehyung’s work.
“What about you?” he blurts out.
“What about me?”
Jungkook laughs self-consciously. “Sorry. I mean, how’s your work? Do you like it?”
Taehyung smiles warmly. “Yeah,” he says. “I do. I’ve been lucky. I got hired at a really good firm. But it’s not too big. I have space to be creative. It’s nice.”
“Good,” Jungkook says genuinely.
It had always been a fear of Taehyung’s—getting stuck in a job where he didn’t have enough creative freedom. He loved architecture. He could talk about the specific curves and angles of buildings for hours. Jungkook had always loved listening to him, even though he’d never really understood more than ten percent on a good day. But Taehyung’s face would light up and he’d be off.
But then he’d get such bad anxiety sometimes, about getting stuck in some dead-end job designing utilitarian office buildings.
And that first job he’d had out of school had been brutal—long hours doing menial tasks. Taehyung had sort of shrunk into himself.
Thinking about it brings back too many awful memories, too much pain and shame. They’re heading into dangerous territory.
Taehyung must be thinking the same thing because his face has clouded over. Jungkook’s brain switches into desperation mode again.
“Are you staying here long?” he asks. “In New York I mean.”
Taehyung shakes his head sadly. “No,” he says. “We have an early flight tomorrow.”
The we makes Jungkook inwardly seethe.
“That’s too bad,” he chokes out. “Might have been nice to stay a while. Take a walk down memory lane.”
Taehyung stares straight out into the night, at the building across the street. Only it seems like he’s looking through the building instead, at some curious object on the other side—something only Taehyung can see.
“It’s okay,” Taehyung says softly. “I think it’s for the best.”
It guts Jungkook something fierce—the sound of his small voice, the implications of the words. He’s lost in the feeling, some sick sense of sadness and guilt and excruciatingly painful nostalgia. He’s so lost in it he can barely react when Taehyung moves to leave.
“On that note I think we should head out. Early flight and all.” He takes a couple steps back and Jungkook shifts himself over, so his hip is leaning on the railing and he can face Taehyung, but not head-on. That still seems like too much.
He won’t allow it.
“Have a safe flight,” Jungkook says. It comes out flat.
Taehyung nods and turns to go, but he hesitates for a moment and glances back over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Jungkook. It really was nice seeing you again.”
And then he’s gone, walking back out of Jungkook’s life as swiftly as he’d entered.
Jungkook supposes he wasn’t really back to begin with.
Jungkook takes another swig of his drink and drops his head down onto his arm where it’s resting on the table. He’s sitting with Namjoon and Hoseok, drowning his sorrows after his unfortunate encounter with Taehyung.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” he groans. “Why can’t I just do something right for once? It’s like I’m back here and I’ve immediately morphed into my old college self.”
Namjoon laughs. “I don’t think it’s quite that dramatic, Jungkook.”
Jungkook sits up again and points an accusatory finger at Namjoon. “That’s what college Namjoon would’ve said! It’s happening to all of us! We’re in a time warp!”
Namjoon rolls his eyes. “College Namjoon would’ve said something vague and wordy that sounded kind of deep, but ultimately meant nothing.”
This makes Jungkook laugh, because it’s true. He leans forward and puts on his best Namjoon voice. “Here’s what you have to understand, Jungkook. Life is full of directions. You can go left, or you can go south, but in the end you’ll be exactly where you land.”
Hoseok howls with drunken laughter. “My turn!” He rips Namjoon’s glasses off his face and perches them on his own, then sits back in his chair and puts a hand to his chin. “It’s like what Johann Wilder von Nietzsche always says: the path is laid out in front of you, but the steps you take are perpetrated by your own two feet. Know this, Jungkook—you have the sturdiest of feet.”
“Okay!” Namjoon says over their wild cackles. “We all get it. Also Johann Wilder von Nietzsche is not a person!”
“No,” Jungkook says seriously, putting a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Getting it isn’t the point. To really understand something, to get to the very heart of the question, we first must dis-understand it. We have to take it apart completely and forget it ever existed.” He pauses for effect. “Only then can we truly become enlightened.”
“Are we doing Namjoonisms?” Jimin asks as he approaches the table, followed by Yoongi and Seokjin.
“No!” Namjoon protests loudly. “We aren’t!”
“Why’s Hobi wearing your glasses then?” Jimin asks, grabbing Namjoon’s drink out of his hand and taking a big swig.
Namjoon mutters something under his breath and snatches his glasses back off Hoseok’s face.
Jimin makes a disgusted sound and holds Namjoon’s drink up to the light. “What is this? It tastes like old socks!”
Namjoon grabs his drink back and glares at Jimin. “It’s an old fashioned!”
Jimin shrugs. “Whose turn is it?”
“We’re not doing Namjoonisms!” Namjoon shouts.
“Yes we are,” Jungkook says.
Namjoon fixes him with a solid stare. “Actually, if I remember correctly we were dissecting your failure of an attempt to patch things up with Taehyung.”
Jungkook groans and drops his head back onto his arms.
“Your what?” Jimin asks.
“Nothing, nothing,” Jungkook mumbles, lifting a hand and waving it vaguely in Jimin’s direction. “I’m over it.”
“He’s not over it,” Namjoon says.
“Definitely not,” Hoseok echoes.
“Jungkook.” Jimin’s tone is even, but scolding; a touch incredulous. “You did not attempt to patch things up with Taehyung after eight years, at my fucking engagement party!”
Jungkook sits up again and slumps back in his chair, trying not to pout. “No. I didn’t.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow.
“Well not really, anyway. I botched it. And I wouldn’t have actually gotten into it, even if I hadn’t completely messed it up,” Jungkook continues. “I just wanted to say… something. Just like an apology or… I don’t know. An acknowledgement? I feel like I left it all awkwardly hanging.”
“Oh,” Jimin says. “Well I mean... It’s not like he’s dead.”
“What?”
“You’re acting like this was your last chance and you’ll never get another one. You can start anytime. You could’ve started any time over the past eight years, too, but you didn’t and I don’t see you crying about that.”
Jungkook thinks about it. Maybe that’s true. Obviously it’s true. He’s just been operating on the assumption that it isn’t true for so long that it’s hard to suddenly switch gears.
“Look on the bright side,” Namjoon says. “The wedding isn’t until next July. Now you have a whole year to figure out what to say.”
Namjoon is right. He wasn’t really prepared for this tonight. He hadn’t had much time to come up with a game plan. And he’d been too caught up by the fact of it—of Taehyung finally being there in front of him, in the flesh. With Luca, no less. He has a whole year to figure it out now. A year to think and plan and organize his thoughts. To work out what he wants to say and how.
Next time he’ll come prepared.