Chapter Text
“Finally! I thought we’d never find this place,” Taehyung exclaims as he pushes open the wooden door to their cabin for the night, shaking off a cloud of snow from his shoulders. He turns to Jeongguk, who is still half-buried under an avalanche of snow.
“I feel like I’m starting to look like a snowman,” Jeongguk murmurs, his cheeks rosy and his hair dotted with snowflakes.
Taehyung laughs, shaking snow off his beanie. He steps closer and helps Jeongguk wipe some snow away. “You absolutely do. Just add a carrot nose and you’re all set.”
“At least I’m a cute snowman,” Jeongguk retorts, trying to shake off the snow clinging to his coat, only to end up flinging it right onto Taehyung’s face.
“Hey!” Taehyung grumbles, wiping the snow off his face. “This is why I said we should’ve taken the sled! But nooo, someone insisted on walking through the blizzard!”
Jeongguk laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” He reaches out, brushing off the snow he had so gracefully flicked at Taehyung’s face from his cheeks. Despite the cold temperature Jeongguk’s fingers feel warm as they caress Taehyung’s skin, sending a rush of warmth through Taehyung’s body, his heart unexpectedly starting to beat faster. “And what do you mean a blizzard? You’re exaggerating. It’s more like a mild snowstorm. But I guess some things never change.”
Taehyung huffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jeongguk chuckles, taking off his coat and unfurling the scarf around his neck. “You always tended to over-exaggerate things back in college,” he explains with a grin. “Remember that time you thought you’d freeze to death during that one hike?”
Taehyung rolls his eyes, pulling his beanie from his head and shedding off his coat. “I remember that hike like it was yesterday,” he replies, tousling his hair. “You had that glorious idea of going for a hike at ass o’clock instead of studying for the exam the next day. Four in the fucking morning, Jeongguk!”
Jeongguk laughs, the sound warm and infectious. Just like Taehyung remembers. “Yeah, but it was fun! And who doesn’t love a good ass o’clock adventure?”
Taehyung can’t help but smile. “An adventure where we ended up soaked to the bone? By the time we reached the Namsan Tower, it was pouring! We looked like two drowned rats!” Somewhere on his phone in the depths of his camera roll were a series of snapshots and selfies they had taken of each other during that ‘adventure’, as Jeongguk calls it. But even with no evidence, Taehyung can still vividly recall that early morning: how they were drenched to their underwear, Jeongguk’s hair plastered to his face and obstructing his view, leading Taehyung to hold his hand and guide the way to prevent Jeongguk from bumping into a streetlight. How Taehyung’s shoes squeaked with every step he took, causing Jeongguk to laugh hysterically and call him names like ‘Mickey’ and ‘Goofy’ before admitting he had a side stitch from hell. Well deserved, Taehyung thought back then.
The photos captured it all, including the selfies they took together with a grinning Jeongguk and a slightly annoyed Taehyung who couldn’t help but smile as he watched his best friend enjoy himself so much. Taehyung remembers. All too well. He also remembers the way his heart raced every time Jeongguk looked at him with those affectionate and curious eyes as he stretched out his hand for him to put his own into. How could have Taehyung ever said no to that?
Taehyung also remembers all the times they slipped on the wet floor, trying to hold onto the other, but only ending up dragging each other down. The next morning, Taehyung’s body was covered in bruises, and not the good kind. When Jimin noticed the marks while they were getting ready for a party, he only wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, but his assumptions were wrong, and Taehyung remembers how much he had wished for him to be right instead. Unfortunately, the reality was quite different. And still is.
Something tugs at Taehyung’s heartstrings as he thinks about how that one silly adventure had felt endless at the time, but was nothing more than a memory now, a memory buried among thousands of new photos in his camera roll.
“Hey, I thought we could make it before the rain came,” Jeongguk defends, bringing Taehyung back from his thoughts. Jeongguk puts away their coats and scarfs and kicks off his boots next. “It was just a little rain, not the end of the world.”
Taehyung crosses his arms, his lower lip jutting out a little. “I was just being cautious! What if we would’ve gotten sick?”
“Sure, but you were ready to build a shelter out of empty boxes!” Jeongguk shoots back, laughing. He signals Taehyung to sit on the wooden bench in the entrance, draped with a white faux fur mat.
“It was freezing!” Taehyung insists, obeying Jeongguk with a puzzled expression.
When Jeongguk kneels down in front of him to untie his boots, heat blooms on Taehyung’s cheeks, dusting it a pretty pink. “Dude, it was 75 degrees!”
Taehyung huffs, trying to maintain his composure. “Well, I was wet.”
He watches as Jeongguk’s fingers move quickly. It’s surreal, seeing his best friend and college crush kneeling before him, untying his shoes like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It feels both ordinary and deeply intimate, as if they’ve never drifted apart. Like they’ve hit pause on their relationship and picked up right where they had left off. But they both know that’s not the truth. They’ve lost touch. Five whole years have slipped by without a single text or call. Five long years of missing out on Jeongguk’s life, despite the promises they made on graduation day to stay in touch. Needless to say, it didn’t go as planned. And that was just one of the many promises they’d broken over the past five years.
Jeongguk’s expression softens, the teasing glint in his eyes turning into something more sincere. “Yeah, and maybe I liked having you all close to me, even if you were shivering.”
Taehyung feels his heart skip a beat, but he quickly masks it with a grin. “Maybe, next time, make sure to keep me warm.”
“Am I not doing a good job right now?” Jeongguk asks, finishing the second boot and taking both off Taehyung’s feet. “You have a snowman to keep you warm.”
Taehyung snorts, though his heart clings onto the implied meaning of the last sentence. “I think I’d rather have hot chocolate, but I guess I’ll keep you around for the entertainment.”
Jeongguk stands up, chuckling as he dusts off his pants. “Hot chocolate coming right up.”
A smile breaks over Taehyung’s face as he watches Jeongguk stride toward the kitchen, the dim glow of the fairy lights strung across the room casting a warm, golden hue on his retreating figure. Taehyung hesitates for a moment, then pads after him, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He pauses at the edge of the kitchen doorway, leaning casually against the frame, watching as Jeongguk moves around the kitchen.
Though small, the little space feels like the heart of the home. The walls are adorned with well-used wooden cabinets, their corners softened by years of wear and tear, each one slightly mismatched as if they had been collected over the years rather than purchased all at once. The shelves, conveniently located next to a small refrigerator, hold a patchwork of bowls and mugs, each one telling its own story. Above the sink, a modest window reveals a winter wonderland behind its glass, decorative reindeers glowing in the darkness of the night. But what really catches Taehyung’s eye is the antique cast-iron stove, looking like something Taehyung has only ever seen on TV.
“Um… do you know how to use that?” Taehyung asks, gesturing toward the ancient piece.
Jeongguk turns to him, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes gleam with confidence as he rolls the sleeves of his sweater to reveal his forearms. He doesn’t say anything at first, just walks over to the stove with the air of someone who’s about to show off—and show off he does.
“Do I know how to use it?” Jeongguk repeats, his tone playful yet smug. “Watch and learn, Tae.”
Tae.
Even though they’ve spent a whole weekend together, Taehyung still hasn’t got used to the way his chest tightens every time he hears his nickname come out of Jeongguk’s mouth. It sounds familiar but strange at the same time, like something he longs for, the more the echo adds another cut to his heart.
Jeongguk crouches down in front of the stove, opening the small door at the front. As he reaches for a stack of neatly split kindling stacked beside the stove, Taehyung leans against the counter, arms crossed, his eyes glued to Jeongguk’s every move.
“You always start with kindling,” Jeongguk explains as he arranges it in a crisscross pattern. “Gotta give it something to catch before you add the big stuff,” he adds with a grin.
Taehyung isn’t sure if that’s another of Jeongguk’s suggestive remarks he had so cleverly hidden in a cast-iron stove lesson, but Taehyung can’t muse over it for too long, because Jeongguk strikes a match with the flick of his wrist, the tiny flame dancing in the air before it touches the kindling. The wood catches fire almost immediately, crackling as it grows.
“You’ve got to start small,” Jeongguk explains, adding a couple of larger logs. “Too much too fast and you’ll smother it.” He adjusts the wood with a pair of iron tongs.
Taehyung watches in awe as Jeongguk closes the small door and adjusts the vents on the sides of the stove. “These control the airflow,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Taehyung. “Open them wide if you want it hot fast, close them partially if you want it to burn slower… You’re not getting distracted, are you?”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. He can suppress a smile, but he can’t ignore the hot feeling pooling in his stomach at Jeongguk’s descriptions that don’t feel all that innocent. “Just waiting for you to actually do something impressive.”
Jeongguk chuckles, shaking his head, and turns back to the stove. He opens the lid on top, revealing a cooking surface that is already beginning to warm. “Now comes the best part,” he says. He pulls a small pot from one of the cabinets and fills it with milk from the fridge, setting it on the stove. “Hot chocolate,” he announces, “But not just any hot chocolate. This is going to be the hot chocolate, exclusively for the Kim Taehyung.”
“You make me feel like I’m royalty.”
“You might as well be.”
Taehyung snorts, because there could have been nothing further from the truth. “You’re right. Some things really don’t change.”
“What do you mean?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow as he opens a yellow box—a specific brand Taehyung recognizes instantly. It’s the same one he always insisted on using because it was sweeter than the others, and because it’s all he could afford back in college. No fancy, rich chocolate powder from Belgium or Switzerland, but a box with a cartoon drawing of two squirrels, filled with chocolate powder sachets loved by kids—and Taehyung.
“You’re such a smooth-talker, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk hums softly in response as he rips open three sachets of cocoa powder, dumping the content into the milk simmering on the stove. Taehyung steps closer, pulled in by a mix of nostalgia and something else he can’t name. He watches as Jeongguk adds a pinch of salt and a splash of vanilla extract, which seems to have appeared out of nowhere. It just magically appeared—Or, more realistically, Jeongguk had come prepared. He knew Taehyung was going to ask for hot chocolate, so he made sure they had everything they needed. Which may be the most likely explanation, but not necessarily the one Taehyung wants to acknowledge, because it opens a dangerous door to a reality of something that is hopeless, something that would be crushed in less than 15 hours when they will go their separate ways and return to their own lives.
Taehyung is not ready to face all of it over again. He’s not ready to let himself feel hopeful, only to end up with his heart shattered into a million pieces by the end of tomorrow. He’s not ready for another goodbye.
“You still take it with cinnamon?” Jeongguk asks without looking up.
Taehyung blinks, surprised. “Yeah. How did you—”
“Because I remember.”
Taehyung feels a lump form in his throat while Jeongguk reaches for a spice jar on the shelf above him. He sprinkles a small amount into the mixture, stirring until everything is perfectly blended, the aroma unfolding in the air of the kitchen.
Jeongguk spins around to the shelf next to the fridge and snatches a blue mug—the kind that totally reminds him of Taehyung’s favorite back in their college days, with that fancy golden rim and a chipped handle. This one, however, is a lot more faded than the one he had and is crack-free. For some mysterious reason, his mug vanished right before graduation. Maybe a dorm mate snagged it by accident during the chaos of moving out, or he had simply misplaced it in the frenzy of graduation. Whatever happened, Taehyung never replaced it.
Jeongguk cautiously takes a sip of the steaming liquid, making sure to blow on it first to avoid burning his tongue. With a satisfied nod he pours the rest of the drink into the mug, careful not to spill a drop.
Turning around, Jeongguk holds out the mug with a small smile. “Here you go.”
Taehyung takes it wordlessly, his fingers brushing against Jeongguk’s for just a moment. The warmth of the drink seeps through the ceramic into his palms, but it is not the only source of warmth that spreads through his body. Taehyung hadn’t thought Jeongguk would remember all these trivial details of their shared past.
“You remembered,” Taehyung says.
Jeongguk shrugs lightly, leaning back against the counter. “Of course I did.”
Taehyung takes a cautious sip, and it’s spot-on—exactly like he remembered from all those nights they spent hunched over textbooks, or snuggled on the couch during rainy afternoons, watching horror films. Taehyung always got freaked out, but Jeongguk found it hilarious just because Taehyung was such a scaredy-cat.
Taehyung never would have admitted it back then, but he was totally into how Jeongguk would casually rest his hand on Taehyung’s thigh whenever he needed a little emotional boost. And the way Jeongguk always gave him a heads-up before a jump scare? Classic, lovely Jeongguk. Even with the warning, Taehyung would still leap out of his skin every single time. Sometimes, though, he did it on purpose just to have the perfect excuse to cozy up next to him.
“It’s exactly how I like it,” Taehyung says softly.
Jeongguk watches him with an unreadable expression for a moment before breaking into a grin. “Good. I’d hate to disappoint you after all this time.”
“You could never disappoint me.”
Suddenly, Jeongguk’s expression shifts. “Please, Taehyung,” he says, turning around, moving the used pan to the sink. “I’m working as a photographer.”
Taehyung furrows his brows, confused. “What’s disappointing about that? I think that’s awesome, and you always loved to take photos. What’s wrong with doing what you love?”
“It’s not what we—”
Jeongguk pauses and stares at the water running over the pan. The words hang heavy in the air, unfinished but understood.
It’s not what we promised.
Another promise they had broken over the course of the last five years.
“It’s not what we planned,” Jeongguk finally says, turning off the faucet and drying his hands on a towel.
Taehyung nods, sipping cautiously from his drink. The whole scene seems eerily familiar. Their friendship hasn’t always been smooth sailing. They didn’t clash often, but when they did, it was usually over silly things. Like that one time Jeongguk had a late-night guest over at their dorm, even though Taehyung needed to cram for a big biology exam the next day. Back then, Taehyung didn’t even realize the test wasn’t the real issue. That epiphany hit him months later.
In the heat of their disagreements, Jeongguk always had this way of burying the hatchet. He’d whip up a mug of hot chocolate for Taehyung, a peace offering to mend things. While they hashed it out, Jeongguk would busy himself with tidying up the kitchen, keeping his hands moving as a distraction.
Taehyung’s heart tightens with a familiar tension, readying himself just in case this moment spirals into one of their infamous arguments.
“Yeah,” Taehyung confirms, “It’s not.”
Because it’s the truth. This isn’t what they had envisioned for their future. They were meant to write songs and create music together, making hits that the biggest stars would perform. They aimed to break cultural and musical barriers and revolutionize the industry. But now, Jeongguk is a photographer, and Taehyung is an elementary school teacher. It’s not exactly the pinnacle of their dreams or the promises they made to each other.
Before memories could arise that would only bruise Taehyung’s heart, he clears his throat.
“But what we do is not too shabby. Don’t you think?”
Jeongguk studies him for a second, then a small smile tugs at his lips that doesn’t feel genuine. “No, it’s not too shabby at all.”
Taehyung lets his gaze wander over Jeongguk’s figure, taking in the changes five years have brought. The charcoal-gray sweater stretches across broad shoulders and a muscular chest that hadn’t been quite so defined before. Strong forearms are revealed where Jeongguk has pushed up his sleeves. His dark hair is a bit longer, falling softly over his forehead. Where there used to be a silver lip ring is now just a small scar on his smooth skin. But the biggest change is in his eyes—there’s a new depth and maturity reflected in their dark irises.
Taehyung’s mind drifts back to their college days, to the raucous parties with too much cheap beer, sticky floors and music so loud the only reasonable way of communication was through texts. Late nights spent close together, the bass thumping through the floorboards at crowded house parties. The burn of cheap vodka shots chased by the coolness of Jeongguk’s lip ring as their mouths crashed together messily in dark corners, Taehyung’s fingers tangled in Jeongguk’s hair, tugging just hard enough to draw out low groans.
One night, they’d stumble back to their dorm, collapsing on one of their beds. Sloppy, drunken kisses and fumbling hands. Clothing pushed aside just enough. Rutting against each other like horny teenagers until they spilled in their boxers, dizzy with release and something like giddy love. Jeongguk’s blissed out face nuzzling into Taehyung’s neck after, clinging to him, not wanting to let go.
But reason won out before they could take that final irreversible step into new territory. Panting, they pulled apart, putting distance between their desire-drunk bodies. The friendship was too important, what they had too precious to risk losing. With shaky laughter, they agreed not to let it happen again, not to let their hormones jeopardize everything.
And Taehyung couldn’t say it.
He couldn’t say that that night was just a mistake driven by their drunken minds. Not for him.
He couldn’t say that he had been secretly dreaming of kissing Jeongguk for months, imagining what it would feel like to have his piercing pressing against skin he hasn’t touched yet.
He couldn’t say that when he closed his eyes, Jeongguk was all he saw, and that he made his heart race whenever he was near.
He couldn’t say that the reason they were fighting wasn’t over a stupid biology exam, but something much deeper.
He couldn’t tell Jeongguk that he had fallen for him.
He couldn’t admit that he didn’t want a repeat of that night, but much, much more than that.
So, he didn’t. He didn’t say it.
He didn’t say it, taking all those secrets with him the day he left the dorm, burying them deep down in his consciousness, and promising himself to never look back.
But now, in the light of the kitchen, and under the magic spell of hot chocolate and an undeniably gorgeous Jeongguk, Taehyung’s heart thumps against his ribcage, trying to break free from that promise. He struggles to tamp it down, reminding himself that they aren’t those reckless, carefree boys anymore. Too much has changed. Still, when Jeongguk’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, Taehyung wonders just how much truly has.
Taehyung clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from Jeongguk’s lips. “So, um, I was thinking of watching a horror movie. For old times’ sake. You wanna join?”
At the question Jeongguk’s lips stretch into a soft smile—maybe he remembers too.
“I’m always down for a horror movie. Especially if it means getting to see you freak out and hide behind a pillow.”
“Excuse you, I don’t hide!” Taehyung protests with a huff. “I’m just...cautious. Prepared for anything.”
Jeongguk hums, his eyes glimmering with something that tells him that he doesn’t believe him. Well, he’s right, but he doesn’t have to know that. “Over-exaggerating again.”
Taehyung purses his lips, the tip of his tongue brushing over his teeth. “I’m gonna change into something comfier. Be ready in the living room in five!” he calls out before dashing off to his room, hot chocolate in his hand. He needs to ditch the tight slacks, the button-up, and the blush that’s crept up on his cheeks from just a few words and a daring glare. He’s determined to prove him wrong!
Inside his room, Taehyung sets his mug down on his bedside table and rummages through his Boston bag, heart racing as he pulls out a faded light blue t-shirt with the letters ‘SNU’ emblazoned across the front. Another memento from his college days. Just then he realizes what a fool he is, still clinging onto those days, when it’s long past the time to let go and move on. But he hadn’t had the heart to throw it away just yet. Because it reminds him of Jeongguk.
He remembers the day they went shopping together at the university store and decided to get matching shirts—Taehyung even bought his two sizes too big to match Jeongguk’s preference for oversized clothing at the time, secretly hoping Jeongguk would want his one day. Not because it would fit him to his liking, but because it was Taehyung’s.
But now, six years later, that shirt is only good enough to be Taehyung’s designated go-to sleepwear, with a random hole under the left armpit. Taehyung has no clue how the hole got there, especially since Jeongguk never asked to have it, let alone wear it. Taehyung takes a sip of his drink, wondering if it would have been better to just throw the shirt away ages ago and forget about it all.
Yet, he ends up wearing it, along with a pair of flannel sweatpants and fuzzy socks. Before he leaves he adds a zip-up hoodie over his shirt and zips it up to make it less obvious. After finishing his mug of hot chocolate, he leaves the room and pads down the hall to the living room where he finds Jeongguk already lounging on the couch in a dark sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants that perfectly hug his thighs, not exactly making this any easier for Taehyung.
Jeongguk lifts his head as he hears the soft thuds of Taehyung’s footsteps approaching, a grin breaking across his face. “You’re late. You said five, not seven.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes and flops down on the couch beside Jeongguk. “Well excuse me. Some of us have important things to do, like picking out the perfect outfit for a movie night.” He gestures to his zipped up purple hoodie and matching fuzzy socks. “Fashion waits for no one, not even for you and your judgy eyebrows.”
Jeongguk snorts and throws a pillow at Taehyung’s chest. “You look like a violation of fashion law. Let’s just pick a movie, I’m ready to get my scare on.”
Taehyung clutches the pillow to his chest and gasps in mock offense. “How dare you insult my cozy chic aesthetic! I’ll have you know these flannel sweatpants are the height of style. But fine, let’s see what horror delights await us tonight.”
He grabs the remote and starts scrolling through their options, humming thoughtfully. Jeongguk—the real horror connoisseur—leans over to read the description, wrinkling his nose from time to time. They quickly agree that killer clowns and creepy dolls are overdone.
“Ugh, dolls are the worst. Remember that one we watched in college? I couldn’t sleep for days afterwards, I kept dreaming of little plastic hands reaching for me in the dark.”
Jeongguk bursts out laughing and straightens. “Aha! I knew you were freaking out back then! You said you were pulling an all-nighter to study!”
Taehyung feels his cheeks heat up as he realizes he’s just let a secret slip. There’s no turning back now. “I was shitting my pants for real. I think I stayed awake for three days straight and then passed out for a whole day. I don’t even know if I missed any classes.”
“Oh, you did,” Jeongguk replies. “You totally passed out right at the kitchen table, almost face-first into your cereal.”
Taehyung frowns, trying to remember. “I did? All I remember is waking up in my bed.”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk says, grinning at the memory. “I had to drag you to your bed while you mumbled something about soggy cereal, and Jimin kept going on about how he was too pretty to end up in jail just because you were the first casualty in our dorm.” Jeongguk chuckles.
“Why... why didn’t you ever tell me about that?”
Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle with fondness as he looks at Taehyung. “I guess it just never came up. We had a lot going on back then, with classes and projects. And well, maybe I liked being the only one who knew. It felt special, having this little memory that belonged only to me, seeing you like that, all sleepy and vulnerable and adorable, mumbling nonsense as I tucked you into bed.”
Taehyung’s heart skips a beat. He imagines a younger Jeongguk with short hair, a skinnier frame, a lip piercing, and a beanie perched on his head, gently scooping up Taehyung’s unconscious body, holding him close with his strong arms. Taehyung can’t help but wonder if Jeongguk’s heart raced, if he paused for a second to take in Taehyung’s peaceful face before carefully laying him into bed, or if he was normal.
“I wish I could remember,” Taehyung murmurs. “It sounds... nice.”
“Plus, you looked really cute drooling on the table and then all over your pillow.”
Taehyung groans in embarrassment and playfully swats the pillow at Jeongguk’s arm. “Why are you telling me this? That’s embarrassing!”
“Not more embarrassing than your purple hoodie with matching fuzzy socks,” Jeongguk says laughing.
Taehyung’s cheeks burn as he hurls the pillow with exaggerated force, missing entirely as Jeongguk ducks.
“Purple is timeless,” Taehyung retorts, “You’re just jealous because your entire wardrobe is dark, and dull and—”
“—and cool,” Jeongguk interrupts, turning to Taehyung like a predatory animal. Taehyung pulls his legs onto the couch and scoots backwards until his back hits the armrest, using his pillow as a shield.
“Speaking of embarrassing… Remember when you tried to sneak into that lecture after pulling an all-nighter? You tripped over your own scarf and face-planted into Professor Lee’s chest in front of everyone.”
Taehyung feels another surge of embarrassment flood through him as he thinks back to that particular memory. He can still see Professor Lee’s distinctly unamused expression, eyebrows tightly drawn together. “Why do you hoard these embarrassing memories?!”
“Because,” Jeongguk replies, placing his hands on Taehyung’s knees. Instinctively, Taehyung kicks out, his foot accidentally brushing Jeongguk’s hip—a big mistake. Jeongguk grabs his ankle with warm fingers, his thumb gently tracing the delicate bone there. Taehyung’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, the touch igniting a fiery sensation across his skin.
“Y-yah!” Taehyung stutters, trying to pull away as Jeongguk’s gaze drops from his eyes to his lips. It sends Taehyung’s world spinning. “Let go or I’ll...”
“Or you’ll what?” Jeongguk taunts, daring him, yet his grip is still gentle. The playful spark in his eyes combined with his soft touch makes Taehyung’s knees feel like jelly.
“I’ll…” But Taehyung can’t figure out what comes next. His mind goes blank, and he swallows hard, feeling the weight of Jeongguk’s stare. Every possible ending to that unfinished sentence turns into visions that are definitely not appropriate or expected between ex-best friends from college.
They stay like that, Jeongguk kneeling between Taehyung’s legs, their eyes filled with a fierce mix of longing and desire, the movie search momentarily forgotten. The longer Jeongguk’s thumb brushes over the sensitive skin on his ankle, the more Taehyung feels his bones turn into jelly, losing control of his limbs, and subconsciously spreading his legs a little more.
Eventually, Jeongguk clears his throat and pulls away. “So, what about this one?” he suggests,pointing to a title on the screen. “‘A Quiet Place’. It’s got aliens and a post-apocalyptic vibe, plus John Krasinski’s in it. Sounds kinda cool, right?”
“Sure,” Taehyung rasps, though he barely hears his own voice. The air between them still hums with what went unsaid—the ghost of Jeongguk’s fingers on his ankle lingering like a brand. It’s absurd how even after years apart, one graze of skin unravels him completely. Jeongguk settles back on the couch, and Taehyung scoots up to sit properly. Taehyung swallows again, hard. This is fine, he lies to himself. Just two old friends watching a movie.
As the movie kicks off, an eerie silence fills the room like a creeping fog. Taehyung curls up in the corner, knees hugged to his chest, feeling every rustle of fabric as Jeongguk lounges next to him. The opening scene unfolds in silence, a family rummaging through an abandoned store, quiet footsteps, conversing only through sign language. Taehyung’s pulse pounds louder than any dialogue could.
Taehyung wonders if they could learn it too—if words would be easier this way, stripped to gestures and longing stares. He chances a glance sideways; Jeongguk’s lips are parted, eyes wide as the first sound of a space shuttle toy pierces the quiet. Instinctively, Taehyung’s hand flies out to grip Jeongguk’s forearm. “Shit,” he whispers, nails digging in as a horrifying creature sweeps a little boy.
Jeongguk doesn’t shake him off. Instead, his arm turns under Taehyung’s grasp until their palms slide together, threading fingers like it’s nothing at all. Like they’ve done this a thousand times before. Jeongguk’s palm feels warm against his cold hand. But then Jeongguk mutters, “You’re freezing,” and lets go, grabbing the blanket draped over the couch back and shakes it open, spreading it over Taehyung’s lap. The warmth of Jeongguk’s palm lingers even after he pulls away—a phantom imprint Taehyung tries to ignore by clutching the blanket tighter.
Jeongguk suddenly snorts, and Taehyung shoots him a puzzled glance. “This reminds me,” Jeongguk says, “of that time you tried to walk home during a heavy snowfall wearing suede loafers.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”
“You were so mad when I threw that ugly couch blanket over you—”
“It smelled like ramen broth!”
“A little human burrito of despair.”
“You’re doing it again,” Taehyung accuses now, his nose buried in the blanket in an attempt to hide the blush of embarrassment burning on his face. “That face you make when you’re mentally replaying my most undignified moments.”
The memory blooms suddenly and vividly: Taehyung stumbling in after midnight, teeth chattering, lips slightly tinted in a bluish color from waiting for a bus that never came, wearing suede loafers—as Jeongguk called them—a petrol-colored windbreaker and a brown scarf. Jeongguk had stripped off his own sweater without a word, swaddled him in every blanket they owned—scarlet plaid, threadbare fleece, even that old one from the couch they accidentally spilled ramen on once—until Taehyung resembled a human burrito. But Jeongguk had hovered anyway, pressing microwaved rice packs to Taehyung’s feet until dawn bled through the blinds.
Jeongguk snorts but doesn’t deny it. “Maybe if someone hadn’t insisted on refusing to wear a coat—”
“—Because someone,” Taehyung counters, kicking him lightly under the blanket, “forgot my favorite coat at that awful pre-christmas party! What was I supposed to wear? Your terrible flannel?”
“You looked good in flannel.”
Taehyung holds Jeongguk’s stare, the words burning to his core, neither of them managing to breathe steadily. The atmosphere crackles between them like a lit match, and Taehyung clutches the flannel sweatpants he’s wearing under the blanket, trying to hold onto something solid.
“Good thing we’ve got a fireplace this time,” Jeongguk breaks the silence.
He gets up, striding toward the hearth with tense shoulders. His knees crack as he bends down to arrange the logs, crouching in front of the fireplace they’d both ignored all evening. “We should’ve started this fire hours ago.”
Taehyung watches him do his thing: striking a match, getting the kindling to catch fire, moving the logs around with a poker, all while having that focused look on his face, just like when they were buried in one of their endless assignments together. Back when just being “friends” felt enough.
The flames dance over the birch bark, spreading a golden warmth and filling the room with the gentle sound of crackling wood. Taehyung snuggles deeper into the blanket, closing his eyes for a second, enjoying the added source of comfort.
When Jeongguk finally plops down next to him again—this time even closer—their knees touch through layers of wool and cotton.
Yet neither of the budges.
“Better?” Jeongguk asks softly.
“Almost,” Taehyung sighs, though he’s not entirely sure what he means by that.
Still, Jeongguk seems to understand him regardless, knowing him better than Taehyung knows himself, just like he did back in their college days. Jeongguk’s smiles as he lifts an arm—hesitation worn thin at last—and Taehyung slots himself against him without breathing: head on his shoulder, cold fingertips finding home beneath rolled-up sleeves where skin still burns from the proximity to the fire.
Jeongguk unpauses the movie, the eerie quietude of its theme broken only by wood snapping into embers. Taehyung tries to focus on the screen’s creeping shadows, but all the tension dissolves beneath Jeongguk’s thumb tracing idle circles against his wrist. Between scenes of cinematic terror, ugly looking creatures looming in every corner, the real world narrows to tactile fragments. The rhythmic rise and fall of Jeongguk’s chest, the faint cedar and cinnamon scent clinging to his sweater, where Taehyung’s nose nestles, a thumb absentmindedly tracing circles over his shoulder.
Taehyung’s eyelids grow heavy like melted wax, fluttering shut during a tense scene only to snap open when Jeongguk tenses beside him, fingers tightening reflexively around his shoulder like he’s afraid Taehyung might slip away. But gradually, even fear can’t compete with drowsy contentment: Jeongguk’s steady heartbeat beneath his ear syncs with crackling logs, and every inhale brings cedar smoke tangled with cinnamon. “Still awake?” comes a murmured rumble against his temple—and oh, that vibration travels straight to his marrow.
“Mmm,” he lies through cotton-thick syllables, squinting at flickering horrors that now resemble watercolor smears through half-lashed eyes. The next scenes unfold like broken vignettes: garlands of red fairy lights, a flooded basement, a silo, none of it cohering anymore except as backdrop to Jeongguk’s fingers carding gently through his hair now—how long had he been doing that?
Taehyung mumbles something incoherent about ‘soundproof basements’, cheek squishing deeper into Jeongguk’s collarbone as sleep pulls him under velvet tides. The last thing he registers is trembling laughter vibrating through ribs pressed flush to his own before darkness cradles him fully.
Hours later (or minutes?), Taehyung stirs to credits rolling in and fingers still tangled in his dark locks. His neck aches pleasantly, head pillowed in Jeongguk’s lap, limbs boneless as warmed honey as he blinks up to find Jeongguk staring not at the screen but at him, firelight casting constellations on his face. Neither mentions how Jeongguk never moved him back to proper seating distance or why there are no cushions beneath Taehyung’s neck—only thighs that stayed precisely where they were needed most through the last bits of the movie no one was really watching anyway.
“You snore,” whispers Jeongguk solemnly.
Taehyung’s eyes feel too heavy to roll, so he only huffs, trying to punch Jeongguk feebly under the blanket—a half-hearted rebellion—before surrendering again to the velvety haze of slumber. He floats on a cloud of drowsiness until a sound needles through darkness: Jeongguk’s voice threading a delicate melody. A melody from the past.
Their melody.
The one they carved into existence during a monsoon night in Jeongguk’s dorm room—rain battering windowsills while Taehyung scribbled lyrics on pizza-stained napkins and Jeongguk plucked guitar strings between gulps of banana milk. Don’t you wanna get away?, Taehyung remembers the first verse. Don’t you wanna run away?
Jeongguk’s voice is lower now, different from five years ago, but the tune remains pristine. Taehyung stirs halfway toward waking without opening his eyes, beneath his cheek he feels more than hears Jeongguk’s breath catch mid-refrain before resuming softer. As if confessing something unspeakable during awake hours. I can take you to anywhere. Ride with me anyway.
Taehyung’s lips part before his mind catches up, sleep-slurred words slipping loose: “And the light will guide us to a million stars…”
Jeongguk’s fingers still in his hair. Taehyung feels his own pulse trip at the thought of the next lines, the words already lingering on the tip of his tongue, wanting to finally get out. When they wrote those songs together, they were totally in their creative zone. Songs about struggles, about friendship, about life, about heartbreak, about love. But Taehyung couldn’t ever let Jeongguk know just how much he thought of him while writing those songs—especially this one. Every line was something Taehyung was too scared to say to Jeongguk’s face back then. But he poured everything he had into those lyrics, hoping to at least immortalize his feelings forever on paper.
Jeongguk exhales shakingly into the next line, while Taehyung keeps the rhythm going, eyes closed, lost in the moment. Words once scribbled on a greasy napkin during late-night study sessions so long ago, surrounded by empty ramen cups and textbooks at 4am, newly shaped by older voices, harmonizing anew: “My love, just hold my hand. In the end it’s you and I.”
Taehyung’s eyelids flutter open. Above him, Jeongguk’s face hovers, with all those refined edges, softened by the firelight gilding his face.
“You stopped singing,” Jeongguk murmurs, voice quiet as if afraid to fracture the moment. His thumb brushes a curl from Taehyung’s forehead—a touch too deliberate to be casual.
“You stopped writing,” Taehyung counters softly, reaching out to trace Jeongguk’s sharp jawline, brushing over the moles he had memorized in college.
Jeongguk’s laugh sounds fragile. “Became a cliché instead. A disillusioned artist trading melodies for... shadows.” A wry smile tugs at Jeongguk’s lips. “Bet that disappoints your poet heart.”
“Stop,” Taehyung says, sliding his fingers to Jeongguk’s lips, softly touching them. “Stop saying that.” Taehyung sits up, turning around to face Jeongguk. “Why would you ever think that?”
“We swore we’d fill notebooks,” Jeongguk says, his voice suddenly cracking.
“We did,” Taehyung whispers. “We filled three notebooks,” he adds, voice gentle but insistent, as if piecing together fragments of who they used to be. “Remember? That last summer before graduation… you wrote that song about cicadas screaming at dusk because you hated how loud they were.”
Jeongguk’s throat bobs as he looks away, but not before Taehyung catches the first tear slipping free. Jeongguk’s hands tremble slightly as they clutch onto the edge of the blanket. “And then what?” he chokes out. “I traded my guitar for a zoom lens. You swapped your pen for… glitter glue and lesson plans.” He laughs bitterly. “We let it die.”
Taehyung’s chest tightens at the words. He reaches out instinctively, thumb brushing the damp trail on Jeongguk’s cheek. “Jeongguk-ah—”
“No!” Jeongguk leaps, quickly wiping his hands over his eyes, keeping his back to Taehyung. “No, you listen to me,” he demands, spinning around to face Taehyung again, pain flashing in his eyes.
“Do you even remember?” Jeongguk asks, not waiting for an answer. “How you used to keep lyrics in your coat pockets? Every damn cafe table we sat at became a battlefield of crossed-out verses, trying to create the perfect ones. You’d steal my highlighter to circle the words you wanted to keep at all costs.”
Taehyung’s throat tightens. Of course, he remembers. Every single detail about Jeongguk is etched in his mind. All their shared moments, all the songs they created together, every little promise they made.
“A week after we wrote ‘Travel with me’...” Jeongguk chokes on a sob that cuts through Taehyung’s heart like a knife. “You stole soju from Yoongi’s room and we got drunk on the rooftop of the library. You kept shouting that we’d sell out the Olympic Stadium before we turned thirty.”
Taehyung sees the crumpled piece of paper in front of him: ‘Taehyung & Jeongguk - World Tour 2020’ scribbled in a bold, red marker. That paper was always with them, tucked into their backpacks, nestled between the pages of their textbooks, or clamped between the strings of Jeongguk’s guitar. It was their dream.
“You’re turning thirty this year.” Jeongguk’s words hit Taehyung like a punch, twisting his stomach into knots. Jeongguk’s eyes are brimming with frustrated tears, and his face is drawn into an angry frown. Instead of the crumpled paper, marked with a dried coffee ring and stained with grease from the junk food they once shared, there’s just a gaping void—a dream that had slipped away with time.
“Jeongg—”
“And now?” Jeongguk chokes out, tears streaming down his face as a broken laugh escapes him, filled with heartache and frustration. Taehyung feels the sting of it too. “You teach a bunch of kids how to finger paint sunflowers while I snap photos of random people for some fashion magazine.” He storms toward Taehyung, tears glistening on his cheeks, his lower lip trembling. “When did we become so… ordinary and plain? Just faded dreams?”
A soft whimper slips from Taehyung’s lips, his mouth forming silent words—Apologies? Excuses?—before Jeongguk grips his shoulders.
“We used to burn, hyung! You used to burn! We burned so hot I thought we’d turn every song into a wildfire!” Jeongguk’s voice is sharp as he shakes him. Each of his words cuts deep. “But now, everything just turned to smoke! That night by the Han River, you promised we’d never be... just ordinary. But look at us now!” Taehyung struggles to breathe, clutching Jeongguk’s wrists. “We swore we’d etch our lyrics on subway walls! Did you mean any of it?!” Another shake, another cut. “Staying up till dawn because you said the bridge needed one more layer. Like, what even—” Jeongguk hiccups.
“Jeongguk, please,” Taehyung pleads, his voice trembling.
“—What even happened to those songs?! Do you even remember them? The titles and verses we came up with?”
Taehyung remembers. Oh, he remembers all too well. But he’s spent years trying to forget. Every time he catches himself humming, it’s a melody from their past, and each realization flips his world upside down. All that’s left of Jeongguk is the ghost of his voice and the old melodies they once shared. And it stings. It rips open old wounds that never really healed.
“We were supposed to be together, building our future side by side, but instead, we just let it fall apart! We let it rot, hyung! We buried it and let it die!”
Jeongguk’s eyes overflow with tears as he shakes Taehyung, almost as if he’s trying to bring him back from a five-year-long slumber. Taehyung’s own eyes fill with tears, and his vision blurs, creating the image of a nineteen-year-old Jeongguk before him.
“Do you even remember what color my guitar was that last summer?” Jeongguk chokes out between hiccups, collapsing to his knees. “Answer me!” he yells through his tears, incinerated by grief that had developed across years of silence and suffocated dreams.
“You think it doesn’t kill me?” Taehyung suddenly rasps, tears burning hot on his cheeks. “Every single riff, every chorus, every random ad-lib you added to every possible word?!”
Jeongguk squeezes Taehyung’s shoulders, while Taehyung clutches Jeongguk’s wrists just as fiercely; both desperately holding onto each other like a lifeline. “You really think I don’t hear you everywhere? Like I’d ever forget that sunburst guitar you painted yourself because the black one was the only one we could afford back then? And now it’s—” He breaks off, tears spilling down his cheeks, the salt stinging his lips. The memory floods Taehyung’s mind: Jeongguk at nineteen, sitting cross-legged on his bed at 1am, painting his guitar while humming to yet unnamed melodies while Taehyung sorted their freshly washed laundry, the air filled with the scent of cheap lavender detergent.
“You—” Taehyung stutters, “You used to write lyrics on my arm with that nasty ketchup from the cafeteria.” His hands shake as they trace along Jeongguk’s forearms. “You promised,” Taehyung murmurs, “we’d build a studio by the sea. With… with those stupid butt chairs I was obsessed with from that vintage store.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitches as Taehyung presses their foreheads together, tears mingling hot between them. “I kept every setlist,” Taehyung confesses wetly against his lips. “Even… even that crumpled one from our first gig where you misspelled ‘euphoria’ as ‘uphoria.’ You laughed until you cried into my neck.”
Jeongguk’s fingers tangle through Taehyung’s hair, more tears streaming down his face. “Hyung,” he whispers, and just like that, Taehyung feels twenty-one again; cradling Jeongguk’s smaller form as he sobbed over a little Doberman puppy in a pet shop window, knowing he couldn’t bring it home—he feels twenty-three again; sharing a close hug beneath an overpass, sheltered from the rain after failing an audition neither ever admitted they wanted solely for each other’s sake—he feels twenty-nine; realizing, that he mistook forever for something you could hold, instead of something that holds you long after you’ve let go.
Taehyung cries, holding onto Jeongguk tightly—because here he is, the love of his life, back twenty again; learning ‘Oh!’ by Girls Generation on a secondhand keyboard Yoongi got for his birthday—here he is at twenty-two again; putting together another mixtape for Taehyung’s birthday, acting like he doesn’t listen to the same songs as Taehyung—here he is now at twenty-seven; brilliant and broken in equal measure beneath layers of unsaid symphonies, still humming the same four-note melody that once lulled them both to sleep.
“Then why didn’t you call me?” The words hit hard, filled with the weight of five years of silence, stretching between art shows and parent-teacher meetings, eroding the dreams they once had. “When you stopped wearing that stupid oversized SNU t-shirt we bought together a few sizes too big… when your Instagram became all lesson plans and zero poems… why didn’t you scream that it was killing you too?!”
For a heartbeat, Taehyung stills—the truth hanging between them. “Because I was scared, I was terrified,” Taehyung whispers, “I was terrified that it would ruin everything.”
“Why?”
Taehyung crumbles, further into Jeongguk, further into all their almosts and what-ifs, further into all those unsent messages.
‘Jeongguk-ah, I bought headphones just to drown out how much I miss your laugh’,
‘Jeongguk-ah, I saw a puppy today that looked like the one we named but never adopted’,
‘Jeongguk-ah, forever was never long enough.’
“Because I loved you,” Taehyung gasps—finally—the words raw and sweet and bruising all at once. “Too much. Always. Still—”
Jeongguk kisses him, fierce and starved, a crescendo more than five years overdue, suffocating a whimper bubbling in Taehyung’s throat, wanting to break free. Somewhere beneath their mingled tears trembles the ghost of two boys, dreaming of a future together, learning too late that some silences aren’t shelters but slow-acting poisons.
Their mouths crash together with no gentleness: Teeth clack, tongues swipe salted streaks left by years-long voids and unwept tears, every shuddering breath feels like resurrection. Taehyung tastes like hot chocolate and cinnamon and Jeongguk tastes even better than Taehyung remembers. Jeongguk licks into him with a low sound that’s equal parts fury and hunger, his hands pushing away the blanket pooling around Taehyung’s waist, sliding under his hoodie and tracing long forgotten curves and lines. Skin sears where they touch, prompting a soft sigh out of Taehyung.
“Still?” Jeongguk rasps against Taehyung swollen lower lip, stealing the word from his mouth like a thief reclaiming what he already had stolen once under cheap neon lights, in a narrow corridor on the way to the only toilet at a house party, his shoe sticky from spilled beer on the floor. “Say it again.”
Taehyung scoots closer to the edge of the couch and Jeongguk closer between Taehyung’s legs, his hands roaming over Taehyung’s thighs, squeezing the flesh.
“Still,” Taehyung gasps, arching into Jeongguk’s touch, pulling him flush, until there’s no space left for ghosts or regrets or phantom puppies that never found a home. “Always—”
Jeongguk silences him with another kiss, deeper and slower, despite their frenzied hands clinging onto each other. “I’ve missed you so much,” Taehyung whispers brokenly, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Every day without you has been torture.”
Jeongguk hushes him with a tender kiss, despite the tear that trickles down his own cheek. “I know, I know. Me too.”
Jeongguk’s tongue delves past Taehyung’s parted lips, tasting the sweetness of homecoming mixed with a hint of desperation. He swallows Taehyung’s plea, muffling it against his own mouth as he brushes over Taehyung’s bulge, feeling Taehyung writhe under his touch. Taehyung’s fingers thread through Jeongguk’s hair, tugging lightly, urging him on.
As they break apart for air, Taehyung lets his head fall back against the backrest, exposing the slender column of his throat to Jeongguk’s fiery kisses. Kisses that linger like ghostly sensations, tormenting Taehyung with the possibility of temporary bliss. But Jeongguk is solid and warm and real beneath Taehyung’s hands, he’s not only a mere memory anymore, he’s not a ghost or an illusion, he’s not just a profile picture in his app.
“Please,” Taehyung whispers hoarsely, arching into the heat of Jeongguk’s mouth on his sensitive flesh. “I need you.”
Jeongguk pauses, lifting his head to gaze intently at Taehyung. His eyes are dark with desire but also something softer, more tender, more Jeongguk at nineteen. “I’m here,” his voice cracks. “I’m here now. We’re together again.”
A sob tears through Taehyung and he captures Jeongguk’s lips once more, kissing him with a fervor that leaves Jeongguk breathless. He cups Jeongguk’s face with both hands, pulling him closer, until Jeongguk is hovering over him, one knee perched on the edge of the couch between his legs.
Taehyung slips his fingers beneath Jeongguk’s sweater, feeling the hard planes of his abdomen. A soft moan spills from his lips as his fingertips take in this refined, older version of Jeongguk, travelling up his chest. Jeongguk moans back against his lips, the subtle vibration sending a rush of arousal straight to Taehyung’s cock. “Fuck—” Taehyung sighs, his fingers brushing Jeongguk’s nipples. He feels Jeongguk buckle his hips, pressing his knee against Taehyung’s bulge, eliciting a throaty moan from Taehyung—a sound too loud in the quiet room. It spurs Jeongguk deeper, and when his knee rubs against Taehyung’s cock, another gasp leaves Taehyung’s mouth and he arches off the couch, searching for more friction. “More, please… don’t stop—”
When their eyes meet, there’s a flicker of mischief in Jeongguk’s gaze. That same reckless glint that once made him drag Taehyung to the Namsan Tower in the middle of the night. “I still make you feel like this? After all this time?”
Taehyung can’t answer, words dissolve as Jeongguk’s hand cups Taehyung’s cock through the flannel sweatpants. Taehyung bucks into the delicious friction with a choked moan. “Jeongguk…. Please…” he whimpers desperately, liquid desire pooling hot to his core.
“That’s it, let me hear you,” Jeongguk rumbles encouragingly against his temple. “Let me hear you say everything you couldn’t in the past five years.”
“Jeongguk,” Taehyung whispers, rutting against Jeongguk’s hand while he tugs at his sweater, pulling it over his head, revealing Jeongguk’s bare, toned chest. “Fuck, Jeongguk,” Taehyung breathes reverently. “You’re so goddamn sexy.”
Jeongguk laughs softly, his thumb finding its way to the sensitive tip of Taehyung’s cock and he’s spot on. Taehyung arches instinctively, his body alive under Jeongguk’s teasing touch, his lips parting in a breathless, silent moan. His hands grip Jeongguk’s bare shoulders, nails lightly grazing the skin. “Just for you,” Jeongguk whispers, leaving gentle kisses along Taehyung’s neck. His tongue traces a tantalizing path across Taehyung’s skin, lips marking a passionate bruise on his collarbone. He guides Taehyung’s hand to rest on his chest, where his heart races beneath the firm muscle. “This is all for you,” Jeongguk breathes, the fervor in his eyes and voice spinning Taehyung’s world into a dizzying whirl of desire.
Jeongguk withdraws his hands, leaving Taehyung huffing for the sudden loss of touch. With a teasing smile, Jeongguk hooks his fingers into the waistband of Taehyung’s sweatpants, tugging them down to reveal Taehyung’s hard cock pressing insistently against the thin fabric of his boxers.
Jeongguk lowers his head, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Taehyung’s inner thigh, savoring the shaky breaths escaping Taehyung’s lips. His cock throbs in his own sweatpants, but he ignores it for now, focusing entirely on Taehyung, who threads his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair as Jeongguk mouths at his clothed cock. “Please,” Taehyung whimpers needily. “Want your mouth on me.”
“That what you need baby?” Jeongguk murmurs, voice rough with desire. “Want me to suck this pretty cock?”
“Yes, fuck yes,” Taehyung gasps out.
Jeongguk hooks his thumb into the waistband of Taehyung’s boxers and drags them down, exposing Taehyung’s cock that springs free, hard and already leaking. Jeongguk swallows thickly at the sight. “Fuck,” he breathes, running his fingers along Taehyung’s inner thighs, watching as goosebumps erupt over the skin. “You’re so perfect.”
Taehyung flushes at the praise, biting his lip hard as Jeongguk pulls the boxers off his legs. Jeongguk’s lips trail down to Taehyung’s hip bone, teasing lower, while Taehyung’s cock twitches eagerly as Jeongguk buries his face into his groin, his breath warming Taehyung’s skin. Suddenly, an intense wave of embarrassment hits Taehyung, realizing his ex-best friend from college is positioned between his spread legs, mouth hovering dangerously close to his throbbing cock. It’s like a snapshot from his wildest fantasies, only this time it’s not just a figment of his imagination—it’s happening right here, right now. How could he ever confess that? Instead, Taehyung wraps a leg over Jeongguk’s shoulder, pulling him closer, wordlessly begging for Jeongguk to finally use his mouth where he desperately needs him the most.
“Jeongguk…”
“Kinky, Teacher Kim, where did you learn that?” Jeongguk asks with a hint of a grin in his voice, his breath fanning hot against Taehyung’s skin. Taehyung’s cock throbs at the title spilling from Jeongguk’s lips, his body arching up involuntarily as a shudder of arousal runs through him. He bites back a moan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure even as his legs tremble with impatience.
“What are you—” Taehyung starts, but his words are cut off by a strangled gasp as Jeongguk’s mouth finally wraps around his aching cock. The wet heat engulfing him is overwhelming, better than anything Taehyung could have ever imagined in his wildest fantasies. Jeongguk’s tongue swirls around the sensitive head, teasing the slit before taking Taehyung deeper into his throat.
Taehyung rocks his hips up, urgently seeking more friction, but Jeongguk is having none of that. He grips Taehyung’s thigh firmly, stilling him as he releases the head with an obscenely loud pop.
“Not so fast,” Jeongguk purrs, dragging the flat of his tongue along Taehyung’s length. “I’m going to take my time savoring this, after you ghosted me for five years.”
“I didn’t—” Taehyung stammers, before he’s cut off once more by another strangled gasp as Jeongguk takes him back in, relaxing his throat and swallowing around him. He sets a torturously slow but pleasurable pace, slow withdrawing sucks followed by deep throating plunges, driving Taehyung to insanity.
The wet sounds of Jeongguk’s mouth fill the room along with Taehyung’s breathy moans and pleas for more, mixed with the crackling of the logs burning as hot as the ball of warmth that pools in Taehyung’s stomach.
Jeongguk can feel his own cock straining uncomfortably against his boxers, slick with pre-cum, aroused by the way Taehyung’s body thrashes beneath him, so desperate and needy for his touch. Taehyung’s eyes are brimming with raw lust; hungry and foxy, locking onto him with a burning allure has Jeongguk moaning around Taehyung’s cock. Taehyung’s voice, rough and beautiful, spills out sounds never captured on any of their countless audition tapes from years back. These sounds are only for him to hear. Only for Jeongguk.
“Jeongguk,” Taeyung babbles breathlessly as his cock kisses the back of Jeongguk’s throat. “Jeongguk please, please, please… I want you to fuck me.”
Jeongguk pulls off, his lips swollen and shiny with spit. He looks up at Taehyung through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. “You want me to what?” Jeongguk asks teasingly, his voice sounding rough, his hand leisurely stroking Taehyung’s cock.
Taehyung flushes, but he refuses to back down. “You heard me,” he says boldly. “I want you inside me. I always… I’ve always wanted it, always wanted you.”
Jeongguk straightens up and captures Taehyung’s lips in a searing kiss. He doesn’t hold back, pouring every ounce of pent-up longing and yearning he had to endure for many years into that kiss. Jeongguk bites at Taehyung’s lower lip, sucking it between his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue.
“I’ve wanted you too,” Jeongguk murmurs against Taehyung’s lips. “For so long. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”
As if to make the point any clearer, Jeongguk grinds their hips together, letting Taehyung feel just how hard he is. Taehyung bites his lip to stifle a gasp and wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, pulling him closer, kissing him more, chasing the friction.
“You drive me crazy,” Jeongguk confesses between kisses and stifled moans. “I’ve been dreaming about this, about you, for so long.”
Tears well up in Taehyung’s eyes at Jeongguk’s confession, transporting him right back to college, where he had lied awake at night countless times, listening to Jeongguk’s steady breathing, wishing for things to be different, for his best friend to love him back. But he was always too scared to mess up what they already had, too afraid of ruining something that was already perfect.
Yet, this feels perfect too.
“Maybe you can tell me about all your dreams,” Taehyung says before he continues to kiss him. He can feel Jeongguk smirking against his lips, one of Jeongguk’s hands sneaking down between his legs. A finger teasingly circles his rim, pressing lightly but not quite pushing in. The touch sends a jolt of electricity up Taehyung’s spine, making his head spin in a hot, dizzying whirl. He briefly wonders how long they can keep this up—just touching and kissing, barely any fucking—before they completely lose it.
As if reading his mind, Jeongguk suddenly thrusts his spit-and-pre-cum-slicked finger past the tight ring. Taehyung gasps, arching into the initial burning stretch, which soon melts into a delicious ache as Jeongguk slowly works his finger in and out. “Maybe,” Jeonggk whispers huskily, planting a kiss on Taehyung’s cheek, “I can show you my dreams.”
Taehyung feels Jeongguk’s mouth back around his throbbing cock again, and before he can utter another word, Jeongguk starts pumping his finger faster and harder into him, twisting and curling it just right to rub against that bud of pleasure while Jeongguk’s tongue swirls around Taehyung’s tip, greedily sucking up every single drop of pre-cum.
Taehyung moans brokenly, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch, on Jeongguk’s head, shoulders, trying to find something to ground himself. He can feel how close he is, already toeing the edge, overwhelmed by all those sensations and new emotions—by Jeongguk.
“Jeongguk…” he whimpers warningly when he feels the orgasm build in his stomach. “Stop, please… I’m… I’m gonna… I don’t want to cum yet, please!”
Jeongguk’s movements slow down until they come to a complete halt, letting Taehyung’s cock to slip free from his lips with a soft, barely perceptible pop. Taehyung feels the orgasm simmering deep in his belly as his cock lies flushed, slick, and heavy against the fabric of his hoodie.
“I’ll grab lube and condoms,” Jeongguk declares as his hands trace gentle, reassuring paths over Taehyung’s thighs. The gentle touch causes Taehyung’s cock to twitch with pleasure, bringing a blush to his cheeks. “Okay?”
Taehyung nods enthusiastically, his attention fixed on Jeongguk as he stands up. His eyes are immediately drawn to the bulge straining against Jeongguk’s sweatpants, clearly showing the outline of a throbbing erection. It’s huge, way bigger than Taehyung had anticipated. Sure, there was that one night in college when they frantically rutted against each other, but this? This is a whole new game. Exciting, yet uncharted territory. Taehyung gawks unabashedly, drinking in every part of Jeongguk—his ripped, athletic torso, chiseled chest, and slim waist leading down to the waistband. Taehyung bites his lip, his eyes dragging back up to lock with Jeongguk’s.
“Don’t worry, you can take it,” Jeongguk asserts confidently when their eyes meet. What the fuck? Taehyung thinks to himself, but then Jeongguk’s lips curl into a suggestive smirk. His next words ignite a fiery twist in Taehyung’s gut, and he barely manages to choke back a moan that threatens to spill over his lips. “I’ll make sure of that.”
“God, get that fucking lube and those stupid condoms,” Taehyung murmurs, swating a cushion at Jeongguk’s chest. Jeongguk laughs, a sound that’s charmingly youthful, a bit deeper than before, but still like his old self. It somehow makes him even more attractive, only turning on Taehyung even more. Whatever!
Jeongguk strides away, and Taehyung seizes the chance to move. He snatches up two cushions and heads over to the fireplace, the crackling of the burning logs echoing in the room as he sprawls out on the fuzzy, soft white fur carpet laid out in front of it. He briefly questions the wisdom of placing something so flammable near a fire but dismisses the thought almost immediately. He props one cushion under his neck and shoves the other under his hip, feeling the fireplace’s heat prickling against his skin. This is what Taehyung wants to hold onto. When they leave this place and slip back into their dull, mundane routines, he wants to cling to the memory of how fiercely he burned for this moment.
We used to burn, hyung! You used to burn!
Taehyung wants to burn again. In more ways than just one.
He reaches behind himself, face flushing as he slides his hand between his ass cheeks, while his other hand wraps around his aching cock, languidly stroking himself. He’s too impatient, too fucking hungry for Jeongguk, wanting him in every way imaginable. He needs him close, on top of him, around him, inside of him; before they chicken out again, laughing it off with awkward smiles, agreeing that their friendship is too precious to fuck up. But Taehyung wants to be fucked up, ruined by Jeongguk.
Taehyung angles his hips and then slowly pushes a finger past the ring, groaning softly at the stretch. There’s not enough lubricant to add a second finger, even when he swipes all the pre-cum staining his hoodie. Still, he fucks himself faster with his finger, determined to be ready so he can finally feel Jeongguk inside him. He imagines Jeongguk’s hands all over him, rough and possessive, gripping his chest and thighs, marking his skin without quite bruising, but leaving no doubt who he belongs to.
You can take it.
I’ll make sure of that.
Taehyung lets out a shaky moan, his cock pulsing with an almost unbearable ache in his grip. Lost in the haze of lust, he barely notices when he slips in a second finger, his hips involuntarily jerking at the delicious stretch. Images of Jeongguk’s cock filling him flood his mind, fueling the fire in his belly. His legs start to shake, and just as he’s on the brink of coating his hoodie with his own cum, he abruptly lets go. Breathing heavily, he opens his eyes, realizing he hadn’t even noticed when he shut them tight.
He hears footsteps approaching, and moments later, Jeongguk appears, heading directly for the couch, oblivious to Taehyung sitting on the floor by the fireplace. Taehyung suppresses a laugh, quietly enjoying the sight of Jeongguk staring at the couch in confusion, picking up the abandoned flannel sweatpants like they’re some sort of clue to Taehyung’s whereabouts. Unable to contain himself any longer, Taehyung snickers and tosses one of his fuzzy socks at Jeongguk’s bare back. “I’m here, you dummy.”
Jeongguk whirls around. “What are you doing there?” he asks, striding over and tossing condoms and lube next to Taehyung on the rug.
“You fucking me in front of a lit fireplace has always been one of my fantasies.”
Jeongguk lets out a derisive snort. “Upgraded your fantasies, huh? I remember when you used to fantasize about basic stuff, like sex in the backseat.” Jeongguk gets rid of his own sweatpants, his bulge still fully evident.
Taehyung wets his lips at the sight, his heart pounding as Jeongguk strips down his boxers next, his hard cock finally springing free, the tip flushed and glistening in the warm glow of the fireplace. And he’s gorgeous. Taehyung swallows hard, feeling his own cock twitch. “Well, we don’t exactly have a car right now, do we?”
Jeongguk grins down at him, then drops to his knees, settling between Taehyung’s open legs. “Not at the moment,” he says as he leans over him, trapping him beneath.
Taehyung wraps his legs tightly around Jeongguk’s waist and loops his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I really need you right now, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk’s eyes trace every detail of Taehyung’s face, as if searching for something, before he leans in for a kiss. It starts slow but quickly ignites into a fiery passion that leaves Taehyung gasping for air. A familiar click echoes in the room—probably the lube, Taehyung figures. “You have me,” Jeongguk whispers against Taehyung’s lips. It sounds like a promise. “You’ve always had me.”
Tears start to prickle behind Taehyung’s eyelids, so he urgently crashes their lips together to suffocate the sobs threatening to escape. The lube feels icy as it touches his entrance, sending a shiver through him. A finger slides in effortlessly, and Taehyung pants into Jeongguk’s mouth, refusing to break the kiss even as a second finger joins, exploring deeper within. Jeongguk grins against his lips, but Taehyung pulls him closer, not wanting him to ruin the intensity of the moment with some smart-ass remark like he usually does, because they both know. They both know Taehyung had been prepping himself while Jeongguk went to grab condoms and lube.
Jeongguk’s hard cock grazes Taehyung’s, lying throbbing and heavy on his stomach. Taehyung’s hips jerk at the delicious sensation, craving more friction, his eyes closed shut. “Gods, Jeongguk. Fuck—” Taehyung pants against his mouth. Suddenly, three fingers stretch him wide, and Taehyung has to clutch Jeongguk’s muscular arms to keep himself from losing his mind. Jeongguk speeds up, fingertips stroking Taehyung’s tight, slick heat, curling and teasing that sweet spot that drives Taehyung wild, making him moan needily. Taehyung shamelessly grinds against Jeongguk’s fingers, fucking himself on them, their cocks rubbing together, drawing out soft moans from Jeongguk that blend with Taehyung’s desperate ones.
“I–I’m… fuck—”
Jeongguk moans into his ear, sending a rush of heat straight to Taehyung’s core. He’s teetering on the brink again, too damn close to the edge, but he’s too helpless to stop, his body refusing to pull back. “Jeong—”
Taehyung barely registers Jeongguk thrusting his hips in sync, the friction of their cocks intensifying. Flashes of their college night rush back: grinding against each other, desperate, needy, craving every inch of contact, every bit of intimacy—it’s a vivid déjà vu. Taehyung gasps and writhes beneath Jeongguk’s strong frame, feeling the swell of orgasm rising. He knows there’s no stopping it this time. “Please… I’m gonna—”
And then it stops.
Jeongguk abruptly pulls back, settling back on his heels, panting heavily. Taehyung’s arms drop onto the fur rug, his hole twitching and clenching around nothing, his legs trembling with unreleased relief.
“Shit, I almost came,” Jeongguk rasps between ragged breaths.
Taehyung forces his eyes open, admiring how Jeongguk looks both wrecked and somehow innocent. The glow from the fireplace dances on Jeongguk’s chest and abs, glistening with sweat and likely mingled pre-cum.
Jeongguk flashes a grin, and Taehyung’s heart stumbles, his brain too hazy to string together a coherent thought.
“You’ve been fingering yourself when I was gone, haven’t you?”
There it is.
Taehyung huffs, his lower lip jutting out a little. “How long are you going to let me beg for you to fuck me?”
Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. “As long as I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to do it.”
And Taehyung doesn’t hesitate either. “Jeongguk, please,” he whines. “Please. Make me yours. Don’t make me wait any longer. I can’t take it anymore. You have no idea how badly I want you—”
“I need to see how beautiful you are,” Jeongguk cuts him off, tugging at the zipper of Taehyung’s hoodie. Taehyung, his mind too foggy to remember what he wore beneath it, observes Jeongguk’s expression morph from confusion to realization, and then to something indescribable as Jeongguk's gaze locks onto him.
“I—”
“You still have it?”
Taehyung feels embarrassment burning hot on his face. “I’ve been wearing it every day to sleep,” he confesses.
Jeongguk strips Taehyung’s hoodie off and tosses it aside, keeping his eyes locked on the old shirt underneath. Taehyung feels flustered and embarrassed, exposed in this worn-out college tee that hangs awkwardly on his frame—a relic from a time that has long gone.
Taehyung starts to lift the hem of the shirt, ready to take it off, but Jeongguk stops him. “No,” he says.
“N–no?”
“No,” Jeongguk insists, smoothing the fabric back over Taehyung’s stomach. He grabs a condom, tearing the packet open with his teeth, his eyes never leaving Taehyung’s. “I want to fuck you in it,” he states, rolling the condom on with practiced ease before positioning himself with intent.
Taehyung bites his lip, feeling both nervous and aroused, his heart pounding in his chest. Jeongguk spreads Taehyung’s legs wider, teasingly pressing the tip of his cock against the eagerly clenching entrance. “Relax, baby…” he whispers.
Taehyung complies, sinking into the cushion, his fingers digging into the plush fur of the rug, surrendering to Jeongguk.
With a slow, steady thrust of his hips, Jeongguk pushes forward until he’s fully sheathed inside Taehyung’s tight heat. They both moan at the sensation, their bodies fitting together like they were made for each other.
“Oh god, Jeongguk…” Taehyung gasps.
“I know, baby,” Jeongguk says through a low groan. “You feel so good.”
He gives Taehyung time to adjust, and Taehyung welcomes the slight pain, revels in feeling so utterly full of Jeongguk.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Jeongguk murmurs, his hands running over Taehyung’s thighs. “My beautiful Taehyung.”
Taehyung blushes at the praise and arches up to meet Jeongguk, wrapping his legs around Jeongguk’s waist to pull him closer as a sign for him to start moving. And Jeongguk understands, setting a slow, deep rhythm as he thrusts into him.
Hips rocking and sweat beading between them, Jeongguk leans down to capture Taehyung’s mouth in a searing kiss, tongues tangling languidly as he continues his steady pace. Jeongguk trails his lips along Taehyung’s jaw and down his neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin to mark Taehyung, to leave evidence of their shared night. Taehyung tilts his head back with a moan, offering more of himself to Jeongguk’s hungry mouth.
The room fills with the obscene sounds of their skin slapping together and their mingled moans and sighs of pleasure.
“So good baby,” Jeongguk pants into Taehyung’s ear. “You feel incredible around my cock.” He picks up the pace gradually, lost in the sensual haze and angles his lips, thrusting straight against Taehyung’s sweet spot.
Taehyung whimpers helplessly, trying to hold back the pleasurable tension that coils tighter and tighter in his core as Jeongguk drives into him harder, faster.
“J-Jeongg—” Taehyung struggles to utter Jeongguk’s name, his voice breaking with choked moans.“ Jeongguk—please. Please touch me, I—”
With a deliberate, almost agonizing slowness, Jeongguk wraps his hand around Taehyung’s throbbing cock, his thumb teasing the sensitive tip. Each stroke is electric, sending shockwaves through Taehyung’s bones. With just a few deft strokes, Taehyung’s eyelids flutter shut, his body arching involuntarily off the plush rug and soft cushion beneath him, his brows knitted together in pleasure.
“I’m gon–gonna cum—”
“Do it,” Jeongguk growls against Taehyung’s throat, increasing his pace. “Come for me.”
With a strangled cry, Taehyung obeys, his release crashing over him in waves as his whole body trembles, spurts of cum spilling over Jeongguk’s hand and staining his SNU shirt. His hole tightens around Jeongguk’s cock in rhythmic spasms, as the aftershocks ripple through him, leaving him soft and boneless.
“That’s it,” Jeongguk encourages breathlessly, “Squeeze me just like that baby.”
A few more deep thrusts and Jeongguk’s hips stutter, until he buries himself deeply into the unbearable heat, tensing, cumming inside the condom with a raw and hoarse moan.
Taehyung slowly opens his eyes, feeling the throb of Jeongguk’s cock ebb inside him. He loosely wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s neck, pulling him close. Jeongguk collapses into Taehyung’s arms, nuzzling his face into Taehyung’s neck, breaths coming hard and fast. They melt into each other, just basking into the softness of the moment, listening to the crackle of the firewood.
Jeongguk peppers gentle kisses against Taehyung’s neck and shoulder, waiting for his strength to return. Once he feels steady, he carefully pulls out and disposes of the condom. Despite his brain urging him to get up and clean himself, Taehyung can’t muster the will to move. He feels too drowsy and blissful to move, his limbs heavy like syrup, gently slipping into slumber. He has never felt this… satisfied. Loved. Cherished.
I love you…
He doesn’t even realize Jeongguk has slipped out of the room and come back a few minutes later. Taehyung can hear him talking, can catch the words, but they don’t register in his head. Instead, he’s focused on the warm, slick sensation sliding over his thighs and groin, gentle and precise. Taehyung mumbles some nonsense under his breath, a soft sigh escaping his lips. There’s a pull at his legs, his right foot, his arms, and then suddenly, a chill sweeps over his bare chest—Where the hell did my shirt go?—before he’s wrapped up in something cozy and soft that faintly smells of Jeongguk and that cheap lavender detergent they used back in college.
A drowsy smile forms on Taehyung’s lips, he turns on his side, nuzzling into the sleeve of his new shirt as he mumbles: “Mmmfyours.”
A lock of his hair is being tucked behind his ear, a heavy blanket falls over his body and the fire pops softly like a lullaby rocking him to sleep. Everything feels perfect, but it’s truly complete when Jeongguk’s warm body shuffles closer, spooning him, with an arm possessively slung over his waist. Jeongguk presses a kiss on Taehyung’s cheek, his breath fanning over the shell of Taehyung’s ear.
“Always yours,” he hears Jeongguk whispering back, and that’s all he needs to know to fully slip away.
─── ･:*❆⋆°❅°⋆❆*:･ ───
Morning arrives in honeyed streaks peeking through the windows, painting the room amber as Taehyung stirs awake. The world comes alive in layers: first, the rhythmic heat of Jeongguk’s breath against his nape; Then, the dull ache in his shoulder from staying cocooned all night in the same position. He shifts minutely, only to feel Jeongguk’s arm tighten around his waist instinctively, fingers splayed possessively over his stomach.
Jeongguk’s legs bracket his own, a tangle of limbs beneath the heavy blanket that doesn’t smell like ramen broth. Taehyung smiles at that thought, lazily blinking at the dust motes swirling in sunbeams above them.
A twitch of Jeongguk’s body betrays his wakening. He lets out a muffled groan into Taehyung’s hair before nosing along the curve of his ear. “Mm’rnin,” he slurs into the skin. ‘Morning’—Taehyung translates in his head, decoded through years of studying Jeongguk’s morning-language. Taehyung huffs a laugh that shakes them both.
“You’re crushing me,” he lies, delighted in how quickly Jeongguk loosens his grip, only to squirm closer again like a starved thing. His palm finds Taehyung’s ribs, caressing them through the shirt that isn’t Taehyung’s.
“Missed this,” Jeongguk mumbles against Taehyung’s skin, lingering longer than necessary. The world outside spins on, but in this cozy little cabin perched on a hill in Pyeongchang, sprawled on a soft fur rug beneath a heavy blanket, wrapped up in the arms of his college best friend, the love of his life, here, time stands still.
“You called me a dummy,” Jeongguk suddenly remembers, his voice still thick with sleep. “I’ve been called worse, but somehow ‘dummy’ stung me the most.”
Taehyung recalls the moment and bursts into laughter. “I guess that’s what I get for spending too much time with my kids.”
“Guess so,” Jeongguk mumbles, nuzzling back in Taehyung’s hair. Then he freezes, tensing up before quickly propping himself up on his elbow, staring down at Taehyung. “Wait, what kids?!” he asks, wide-eyed.
Taehyung turns his head to the side, puzzled by Jeongguk’s sudden panic. “My kids,” he repeats, watching Jeongguk’s face for any sign of understanding. But Jeongguk just blinks at him, eyelids still heavy from sleep and his hair wildly tousled. “My students,” Taehyung adds. “At school… because I’m a teacher.”
With a relieved sigh Jeongguk flops back onto the cushions, snuggling closer against Taehyung’s back again. “Seriously! Why did you call them your kids? For a second, I thought—”
“How on earth could you think I had kids?”
“I don’t know! I haven’t seen you for five years, a lot can change!”
“Don’t you think I would have told you that? And the others?”
“There’s a lot you didn’t tell me before last night.”
His words feel like a sharp jab to his chest.
Taehyung falls silent, staring at the dust motes, floating in the air like they’re dancing in a moment of suspension, weightless and carefree. Taehyung wishes he could be like them—free and light, just like during his college days. Back when life was hectic, but life itself was good. Back when they knew they would see each other every day, no matter how busy they were. Back when they knew they would have each other, no matter what. Back when there wasn’t this enormous, dark cleft between them, carved by their own hands over the span of five years. Five years leading to this, to five years unlived but still suspended between them. Maybe, they are dust motes, after all. Dust motes that stopped dancing a long time ago.
“Don’t you think this is a little unfair?” Taehyung finally speaks up, rolling onto his back. “You could’ve called too.”
Jeongguk’s eyes are sad and a bit shiny. He worries on his lower lip.
“I thought you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
“What?” Taehyung asks, breathless, his insides twisting at the idea that Jeongguk could ever think Taehyung wouldn’t need him. “What are you even talking about?”
“On graduation day, you promised to call as soon as you got to your parents’ place. You said you wanted me to visit Daegu, so you could show me where you spent all your childhood, I—” Jeongguk’s voice wavers, and he takes a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. “And then you never called. I waited for months for a call that never came. When you left campus that day, you hugged me goodbye by your dad’s car,” Jeongguk recalls, tears welling up. “You held me tighter and longer than anyone else. You didn’t just pat me on the back like you did with Namjoon, or high-five me like you did with Jin, or give a quick squeeze like you did with Jimin. You hugged me goodbye. I think, deep down, you already knew you weren’t going to call once you got to your parents’ house.”
Taehyung feels his stomach twist into knots. This is not how Taehyung had pictured their morning to go, or how he wanted their reunion to end. He sits up and Jeongguk copies him. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I still wanted all those things. But not just as friends,” he confesses. “Remember that night after Hoseok’s birthday party? When we ended up in your bed, making out and grinding against each other like a couple of teenagers discovering everything for the first time? We laughed it off, blaming it on the alcohol—”
Jeongguk’s eyes widened. “You… you told me it was nothing.”
“Because I thought you felt nothing! You looked horrified!” The confession tears at the wound that had been trying to heal for so long. Raw and vulnerable, laid bare. Taehyung swallows hard, his throat tightening. After all these years, you’d think he’d run out of tears, but the pain is still so real that he can’t hide it. “You pulled away and looked terrified! All I could think was that I’d lose you if I admitted how I really felt. I was terrified you wouldn’t love me back, and that would have truly been the end of our friendship. I couldn’t have stayed just friends, Jeongguk.” Tears gather in Taehyung’s eyes, and though he tries to blink them away, one escapes and rolls down his cheek.
Jeongguk’s breath is shaky as he reaches out, grazing Taehyung’s cheek to catch the tear. Before he can pull back, Taehyung leans into his touch, and Jeongguk is all too eager to keep caressing his face. “Hyung,” he says softly, his voice trembling. Another tear slips from Taehyung’s eyes, and he presses Jeongguk’s hand tighter against his cheek. “You were never just my friend. But I…”
Jeongguk struggles to hold back his own tears, and Taehyung turns his head to plant a soft kiss on his palm. It only makes things worse, as Jeongguk’s eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t realize... not until you were gone.”
Jeongguk sniffs and it’s like a crack tearing through his façade; tears begin to fall from his eyes. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know what it meant, I didn’t know that… I didn’t know then,” he sobs, his body shaking.
“Jeongguk-ah…” Taehyung gently holds Jeongguk’s face in his hands, brushing over his cheeks with his thumbs.
“That night… when I pulled away—” A sob wrenches free. “I wasn’t terrified, I was confused. Because for the first time I realized that I wanted more. I didn’t understand what was happening, why I kept thinking about you like that.”
Taehyung leans forward until their foreheads touch, his thumbs still trying to wipe away those countless tears spilling from Jeongguk’s eyes, but it’s futile.
“After graduation I kept waking up while dozing off, stumbling out of my bed to tell you about some stupid meme or a melody I came up with, hoping you’d turn it into a song. But you weren’t there anymore. You were in Daegu, miles away, teaching kids, posting photos of art classes and museums… and me?” He laughs, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “I was stuck in our old college dorm, strumming my guitar on your bed while you looked for matching socks but ended up with mismatched ones anyway.”
Jeongguk snorts through his tears, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Taehyung can’t help but chuckle at the fond memory. “Are you hating on my mismatched socks?”
Jeongguk gives a sad smile. “Mismatched socks, fuzzy socks, no socks, I don’t care, hyung. I just need you back.” He nudges Taehyung with his nose, and Taehyung feels his heart shatter all over again. “I don’t think I can live without you, hyung. Please… please don’t leave me again.” The plea dissolves into silence for three heavy breaths and a hiccup before he rasps: “You mean so much to me… and I think… no—fuck, I–I know I only figured that out when there was nothing left of us.”
Taehyung’s breath hitches as Jeongguk’s words hang between them. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to the space where their foreheads are pressed together. When their lips meet, it’s a collision of memories and might-have-beens—Jeongguk’s mouth soft and insistent, Taehyung’s sigh melting into the kiss.
Then a phone rings.
A piercing, relentless noise cutting through the room, shattering the delicate silence Taehyung and Jeongguk had been trying so hard to maintain. They pull back, looking at each other like they’ve just woken up from a dream, their tear-streaked faces confronting the aftermath of their five-year stretch of radio silence.
They both know what the alarm means.
They’re running out of time.
Jeongguk fumbles around for his phone, lost somewhere in the mess of pillows he had crashed on. The screen’s blue glare casts a harsh glow over his tear-streaked face. “Our ride’s gonna be here in an hour,” Jeongguk says, his voice shaky as he hesitates, thumb hovering over the snooze button as if that could magically delay the inevitable.
“It’s okay,” Taehyung says softly, but it’s a lie. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever be okay. The air shifts to something heavy and dreadful, something unspoken.
Jeongguk swipes at his tear-streaked cheeks and sniffles, glancing up at Taehyung with a faint smile. “I will tidy up a bit. You can hit the shower if you want,” he suggests, “I cleaned you up yesterday, but you might want to—”
“—Yeah,” Taehyung cuts in, nodding. “I definitely need a shower.”
Taehyung stands up, stretching as Jeongguk begins collecting the scattered cushions and blankets from the floor. Jeongguk takes a moment to ensure the fire in the fireplace is fully extinguished, while Taehyung slips into the shower. The warm water cascades over him, washing away the last traces of their night together. He watches the water swirl down the drain, taking with it the ghost of Jeongguk’s touches and kisses that had lingered on his skin.
The steam clings to Taehyung’s body as he towels off, leaving the mirror clouded and the bathroom in a misty haze. He dresses slowly, slipping into a cream-colored, knitted sweater and dark slacks. Carefully, he folds Jeongguk’s borrowed shirt, fingers tracing the soft fabric. For a fleeting moment, he thinks about sneaking it into his bag as a keepsake but ultimately shakes off the idea as he leaves the bathroom.
He stuffs his Boston bag, making sure to grab his SNU shirt that was drying in the washroom. With everything packed, he heads to the entrance, where a black backpack lies on the floor, its zipper half-open, like it’s waiting for one last thing. So Taehyung crams Jeongguk’s shirt into the gap.
“Want some coffee?”
Taehyung glances up, catching Jeongguk’s gaze as he leans casually against the kitchen door frame, a steaming mug in his grip.
“I wasn’t sure if you’ve jumped on the coffee bandwagon yet. They say caffeine love hits when you get older.”
Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head. “Still not into coffee unless it’s half sugar.” He nods toward Jeongguk’s mug. “Looks like age got you hooked?”
Jeongguk flashes a grin, though it doesn’t quite light up his eyes. “It’s my morning survival kit.”
The silence between them feels like a heavy weight, pressing down with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. Neither of them has a clue how to deal with the impending separation or how to manage the awkwardness of it all. They know so much about who they used to be, but barely anything about who they are now. What if they just don’t fit together anymore? What if, even though they still care about each other, everything else has changed?
“For the record,” Taehyung says, “I want kids. One day. When things are more settled, like financially and emotionally. When I have a solid foundation and a reliable supporting system.”
Jeongguk blinks, taking a moment before he hums and sips his coffee. Taehyung feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He doesn’t even know why he mentioned it and tries to backtrack quickly. “Uh—thanks for washing my shirt and hanging it up to dry.”
“Don’t mention it. I wasn’t sure if it would dry in time.”
“It did.”
“The hole under the armpit—”
“Ugh, yes, I know!” Another wave of embarrassment washes over. “I honestly can’t even remember how it got there, but I was always too lazy to fix it.”
Taehyung can feel Jeongguk’s gaze burning into him, and he does everything he can to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks, feeling bashful under Jeongguk’s intense scrutiny.
Jeongguk takes a deep breath. “Hyung—”
Before he can finish his sentence, a car horn blares, two quick honks that make them both jump. Jeongguk drains his coffee and vanishes into the kitchen, while Taehyung clumsily pulls on his boots and shrugs into his coat, fumbling with the scarf around his neck. The awkward tension hangs in the air, silent yet overwhelmingly loud. Taehyung fakes texting on his phone while Jeongguk gets ready.
As Taehyung leans down to grab his bag, Jeongguk’s hand is already there, their fingers accidentally touching over the handles—a quick jolt that sends a shockwave through both of them. Jeongguk pulls back, letting Taehyung take the bag. They push open the door, and a blast of icy air hits them right in the face. Outside, everything is blanketed in thick, white snow, glistening wherever the sunlight catches it, making the surrounding forest sparkle like a scene straight out of a fairy tale.
The driver, an old guy, just gives a silent nod as they toss their bags in. They plop down onto the worn vinyl seats, and the driver double-checks the destination with them before steering through the snow-draped streets, leaving the countryside behind. Taehyung gazes out the window, watching the cabin get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until it’s just a tiny blur on the horizon, peeking through the branches of trees glittering with icy snow.
With each mile they cover, the distance between Taehyung and Jeongguk grows, like a chasm filled with all they won’t say. Taehyung’s at a loss, unsure how to bridge the divide or what words could even begin to fill the silence, even though they’re right there, stuck in his throat, pressing on his tongue. So they stay quiet; Taehyung keeps his eyes on the blur of pine trees outside, while Jeongguk taps a rhythm on his knee. It makes Taehyung wonder what kind of song Jeongguk is composing this time. Is it about heartbreak and goodbyes? Or a love song?
Moments later, the train station sign emerges in front of them, glowing under the bright fluorescent lights. People are bustling all around, chatting loudly on their phones or furiously typing away on laptops, while suitcases rattle against the pavement. Quick, emotional farewells, a kid crying, a couple locked in a passionate kiss by a vending machine, and an elderly man meticulously folding his newspaper. Taehyung’s heart is pounding like crazy, and his palms are getting all sweaty. The anxiety of what’s coming next is making him feel queasy.
He’s so zoned out that he doesn’t even notice Jeongguk pulling a few bills from his wallet to cover the ride. It’s only when they’re out of the car, grabbing their bags, that he realizes what happened. Every time Taehyung tries to argue about splitting the bill, Jeongguk just waves him off like it’s no big deal. At least Jeongguk agrees to Taehyung’s offer to grab a hot drink while they wait for their trains. Jeongguk goes for another coffee, straight up black, no sugar or cream, while Taehyung opts for a tea.
The scent of fresh pastries and brewed coffee fills the air while they want in line silently, shoulders pressed together, a warm contrast against the chilly silence that lingers between them, no one daring to voice out their thoughts. Occasionally, the speaker buzzes and a robotic voice drones on about departures, sending Taehyung’s heart racing every time it crackles out ‘Busan’.
On the way to the platforms, Taehyung grips the handle of his Boston bag tightly, like it’s a lifeline, wishing it was Jeongguk’s hand he was holding instead. They arrive at Jeongguk’s platform first, platform seven, where the tracks stretch out like endless silver threads disappearing into the horizon. Taehyung’s stomach twists with anxiety, and he can feel tears threatening to spill as emotions swell within him.
An announcement echoes across the platform, sending a jolt through Taehyung. His heart starts to race.
“For the record,” Jeongguk says quietly, finally breaking the silence between them. “Do you remember that time I wore my SNU shirt to gym class?”
Taehyung nods, surprised by the choice of topic. A train rumbles in the distance and Jeongguk turns towards it, then looks back at Taehyung, a hint of smile playing on his lips. Soft and fragile at the same time.
“I ripped it that day,” Jeongguk admits as the train approaches with a screech, doors sliding open. Taehyung glances at him, trying to understand.
“Namjoon always joked that I’d outgrow my shirt if I kept up with my workouts. I wanted to be just as cool as he was, so one day, while showing off with some pull-ups, it just... ripped.” Jeongguk chuckles softly, his voice tinged with a bit of nostalgia.
Jeongguk stares at Taehyung like he’s memorizing every detail, and Taehyung holds his gaze, still trying to make sense of Jeongguk’s words.
“I ripped it, hyung.”
Another announcement booms through the platform. People rush past in blurs of color and noise, but all Taehyung sees is Jeongguk’s face.
“It tore under my armpit.”
Even though they’re both standing still, Taehyung feels like he’s falling as the realization dawns on him. His shirt…
“I—” Words get stuck in Taehyung’s throat along with everything else that’s been caught there since this morning. His throat closes up, and his vision blurs.
“Promise you’ll call me.”
The words hit him harder than any goodbye; they make everything real. Taehyung nods, knowing it’s not enough but unable to do more.
The speaker comes alive again, announcing the departure of Jeongguk’s train one last time.
“I need you to promise me, Taehyung,” Jeongguk insists, his voice wavering as he cradles Taehyung’s face in his hands. Taehyung instinctively lets go of his bag, dropping it with a thud on the pavement.
His lips part, but all the words—the promises, the apologies, the I love yous—collapse into a fractured exhale. He wants to say always, to press his forehead to Jeongguk’s and let the tears fall between them. Instead, he nods, quick and jerky, as the platform lights blur into halos. Jeongguk’s face crumples, just for a second, before he smiles—a fragile, fleeting thing.
Jeongguk steps back slowly, reluctantly letting go.
“I’ll be waiting,” he calls out as he boards the train, his voice rising above the chaos of travelers hustling to board the train, yet he stays put, standing firmly in the entrance.
A sob claws up Taehyung’s throat, hot and sudden, and he swallows it. Jeongguk’s eyes look glassy, his lips part.
“Taehyung—” he starts, but the rest is swallowed by the slam of doors that now separates them.
Taehyung watches Jeongguk from the outside as he shuffles to find a seat by the window. Once he’s settled, he looks out onto the platform where Taehyung is rooted in place. Jeongguk presses his palm to the window, and Taehyung’s heart aches to reach out, to match his hand on the glass. But before he can move, the train jolts into motion, slowly at first, then faster, until Jeongguk becomes a hazy blur through the tears Taehyung didn’t even realize were streaming down his face.
And just like that he’s gone.
Taehyung stands frozen by the tracks, his eyes glued to the speeding train until it’s just a blur. He keeps watching until he can’t catch a single glimpse of Jeongguk through the windows anymore; until everything is lost in the white veil of snow engulfing the station.
Until Taehyung feels twenty-four again, but this time, their roles are reversed: Jeongguk is the one who’s swallowed by the horizon, and Taehyung is the one who is left behind, crumbling under the weight of all that went unsaid.
Just tell me you love me then I could give everything.
And that will be the best part of me.