Chapter Text
silk chemise
The draping silk shirt was blowing in the busy winds of Arcadia. Its overly bright orange hue would be offensively gaudy to a different sort of crowd but it was appropriate in the company of Arcadia dwellers, particularly on a night such as this. Disco Night.
His outfit was properly over the top. The billowy chemise was accompanied by ultra tight black pants and platform boots. He was playing 70s cosplay up to the highest of heights. It was not only permissible but required for clubbers to go all out every night but especially on Disco Night.
Unlike the Bingo Nights at retirement homes or the Spoken Word nights held in quiet cafès, Arcadia's Disco Night was unpredictable. There was no single day of the week dedicated to it. There was no schedule for it. Its unpredictability and sheer randomness made it popular within the community because no one knew for sure when, or even if, it would happen again. Its scarcity made it exclusive and, for those reasons, going all out on Disco Night was extremely important.
It was doubly important for our bright orange silk chemise wearing hero who was returning to the city after a lengthy trip overseas. He was happy to be home and to be with his people. What made his arrival so special was also the fact that he hadn't bothered to tell any of his friends that he was coming back. He knew them all well enough to know they wouldn't miss Disco Night and he pictured the evening, a reunion full of dancing and libation and dizzying delight, and he smiled.
Once in, he was enveloped under a show of shimmering lights and into the world he loved like no other. The Raimi District was alive in ways other places weren't and, as he felt the bass under his feet, he was overwhelmed by how satisfying it was to be home. He was welcomed to the sound of "Spring Affair" by Donna Summer which he immediately started to sway to, dancing his way into the crowd.
A stranger smiled at him as he entered their circle and held onto his hand, inviting him to dance. He knew it was partly the way people in Arcadia behaved, ever inviting and always smiling. He also knew this was just the way people reacted when listening to Donna Summer.
"All my friends have partnered off," the kind stranger said. "Do you mind doing me the honor?"
He nodded and smiled. This was what he loved about Raimi, about Arcadia. People were mostly very kind and, most of the time, even when they weren't kind, they were still good. They were welcoming. They saw friends in the faces of strangers and found their own families and they bonded for a lifetime or for a few moments, like this moment, that would be alive in their memories for a lifetime.
He laced his hands with the stranger and the two of them fell into a comfortable rhythm. The stranger wore lace and chiffon, a color scheme maroon red and golden yellow. They'd even finished the look off with a garish gold chain. It was perfect.
"I don't dance with strangers," he said. "My name's Hoseok."
"Sooil," the stranger -- well, stranger no longer -- said.
Their movements fell in synch as if this touch of familiarity was all they needed to know each other, even if just for the eight minutes it took to dance to "Spring Affair."
As they danced, Hoseok's eyes caught on two people far in the distance. They were dancing right under the giant disco ball that was only brought in for nights like tonight and they were utterly lost to the beat. The shorter one was beaming and laughing as the taller one spun him around. And the taller one -- Oh.
He recognized the taller one. Chestnut brown hair, decorated in glittery white, sun-shaped sunglasses and very familiar plush lips, shining with gloss. He had spent a wondrous evening two years prior kissing those lips for hours on end. He'd felt those lips against his neck, those fingers in his hair. In life, there were people you slept with and mostly forgot. Then there were people you slept with that you couldn't help but remember.
Seokin was the latter.
Sooil followed his gaze and turned around. When they, too, laid eyes on the dancing couple, they laughed. Turning back to Hoseok, they said, "Lovely, right? Taken though."
"Which one?"
"Both."
They looked back to Seokjin and his dance partner. "The radiant little one is smitten with the bartender over there. Not the one with the hair dye complex. The one everyone's lining up to get drinks from."
He followed the stream of people lining up to get a drink and realized how many of them were lingering to one side. Behind the bar stood two tenders, one on the left and one on the right. The line on the left side was shorter, this was the line directly in front of the first bartender. Hair dye complex. The line on the right side was longer and brimming with people who already had their drinks but were still lingering to talk to the bartender with a loose ponytail and an easygoing grin. He was mixing drinks in the shaker and making small talk while he did it.
"You know them?"
Sooil nodded. "They're here, like, every other weekend. And since ponytail over there started working here, I see them more and more. Good people. If you're trying to flirt with one of them, forget it. They're basically married. And anyway," Sooil took his hand again and spun themselves around. "The one you can't or won't stop drooling over is Seo--"
"Seokin, I know."
"Why am I not surprised? He's the best, he does my hair at the Salon on Deiji--"
"He's taken?"
"Yeah. Let's see."
Sooil turned back to the bar and looked around, craning their neck, until they found what they had been looking for.
"Okay, do you see a goth looking girl with white -- literally white -- hair and untouched roots?"
It took Hoseok a while to find her. She was nursing a drink and saying something to the guy sitting next to her. "Yes."
"Okay. The sulky guy sitting next to her with the big eyes and the perpetually lost expression."
"What about him?"
"That's Seokjin's boyfriend. You ask a lot of questions for someone who should be dancing with me."
Hoseok did a double take, looking at the bar where said sulky guy in black was leaning over something that was taking all of his attention, and then looking back to Seokjin and the "radiant little one" still dancing together.
He didn't know Seokjin well. They'd only had one night together but, on some occasions, one night was enough time to know what a person was not. And Seokjin was not a sulky person who sat on the sidelines at the club -- on Disco Night, no less -- instead of dancing. But when he looked, again, at the stranger by the bar, he realized there was something else pulling at his mind. He knew the guy sitting at the bar. His face was familiar. It was like catching a scent from the past, knowing he'd smelled it before but having not the slightest inkling how.
"Did you used to date him or something? You seem unhealthily fixated and now I'm wondering if I've just put two very nice people in danger. I need to learn how to talk less, that's my problem."
"No, no, they're fine. You're fine. I mean...I didn't date anyone. I talked to Seokjin once."
If he'd said this to anyone else, they would probably think all he and Seokjin did was, literally, talk. But because this was the gayest district in the country, in the gayest club in the district, he knew that Sooil knew very well what "talking" meant.
Sooil made a little expression, something to indicate an even combination of disinterest and amusement. "Once is once."
"Once is once, once is done. I just, um..."
"You can't believe someone like Seokjin is with someone like Jeongguk?"
There.
That was it.
Hoseok didn't have to do anymore double takes although he was internally itching -- no, burning; no, dying -- to return his gaze to the bar and stare at Jeongguk. Because that's who it was sitting there, now, unbeknownst to Hoseok, holding up what looked to be some sort of manual. Jeongguk.
He couldn't help it. His own face contorted into something resembling disbelief and he actually, legitimately -- and unintentionally -- guffawed.
He remembered Jeongguk because it wasn't often that he met people as awkward as Jeongguk had been. He told people the story about his strangest hookup, which wasn't about Seokjin but about Seokjin's roommate, and they always laughed when he told them what happened the morning after. How Jeongguk had stared at him for what felt like minutes, started to say something and ended their brief contact by running away to his room. When he left that apartment, he couldn't have imagined there being anything between them. He even assumed that Jeongguk was Seokjin's younger brother, something that Seokjin was very quick to correct him on.
Having fought the urge to look away as long as he could, he finally turned to look toward the bar and looked at Jeongguk again, this time searching for the awkward kid he remembered almost having a conversation with. And, yes, it was him. It was Jeongguk. His eyes were just as big and wondering, always observing and thinking. It was the same awkward kid but, seemingly, less awkward, more comfortable and more certain. His hair had grown longer, not as long as the ponytail wearing bartender, but longer. Then Jeongguk made a move -- holding his hand up and saying something to someone across from him -- and Hoseok saw, to his surprise, an arm mostly covered in all sorts of tattoos.
How was this the same person?
"I've wondered that, too," Sooil said. Hoseok had almost forgotten about him. "Like, to each his own and opposites attract and whatever Aphrodite said--"
"Aphrodite?"
"--but they're really so different. Jeongguk picked him up from work this one night and he came into the shop. He barely said a word. Meanwhile, Seokjin, well, you know. You've talked."
"That's..."
And there, Hoseok trailed off because he didn't know what to say. It wasn't as if he had any sort of "stake" on Seokjin. He wasn't that kind of a person. He had friends who were those kinds of people, people who branded the people they liked with their names and were offended when someone else only glanced in their direction. He didn't know Seokjin in that way. It wasn't as if he was hurt or that, while away, he'd hoped Seokjin would remember him. It wasn't pain that he felt, rather fascination. The grim sort of fascination. It was sort of, he imagined, similar to what it would be liked to wake up after thirty years in a coma and find out things about the world that simply didn't make one iota of sense.
"Wow."
He continued the evening dancing sometimes with Sooil (who later gave his phone number) and, after finding his friends, regaling them with tales of his extensive travel. Stories from Auckland, Córdoba and Oahu. He eventually made his way toward the bar, he and his friends taking one of the rare booth seats that were only a few feet away from the evening's libation. He was laughing at someone else's story when he noticed a blinding shade of white from the corner of his eye. Naturally, his gaze fell toward it.
And he saw them.
The girl with the mostly white hair was gone but Seokjin, back from the dance floor, was standing in front of Jeongguk's stool seat, arms resting on the other's shoulders. He was saying something, private words in public venues, with a sweet smile. The kind that was elated, tired and enamored. Jeongguk was looking up at him with equal affection, that bright smile of his cutting through whatever sort of sulk had been staining his features. His hands were resting on the other's waist, not gripping or squeezing. Just there.
One of them, Hoseok isn't sure which one, leaned forward for a kiss and, when they moved, the light hit them differently. Something glinted and he noticed, for the first time, a rose quartz earring. Jeongguk's ear. When he looked to Seokjin again, he was surprised to find an identical stud. Rose quartz. Matching.
He couldn't help but smile. Perhaps, it did make sense. He thought of love's rarity, especially for the outcasts of the world. He thought of lonely worlds and lonely people. He thought of his night with Seokjin two years prior and the look on Jeongguk's face when he saw him. Wounded. Head over heels. And he thought to himself,
Good for them.
cruiser in the night
As Seokjin kissed him quick, Jeongguk felt a burning. It wasn't the usual burning he felt when Seokjin kissed him, the one that sent his skin aflame and his heart exploding. It wasn't the cataclysmic fires their affections created. It was the kind of heat that falls onto the back of your neck when someone was watching you.
He would have turned to see if someone was, in fact, watching them. But he stopped himself. It had been only two years since he wrote those three words in orange chalk, three words he couldn't make himself say but still wanted, desperately, to make known. Since then, he'd almost grown used to the look on people's faces when they saw the two of them together.
Outside of Heeyeon and Jisoo, Seokjin's friends, acquaintances and co-workers were equally perplexed when Jeongguk was introduced to them. Be it in the midst of parties, the work day or chance encounters on the sidewalk. They always looked at him, then at Seokjin as if to say, 'Really?' It didn't really bother him at the time because he'd felt the same way. Every time Seokjin took his hand, took him to bed, took him to the end of the world and into a new one, he himself couldn't help but think, 'Really? Me?'
Weeks, however, turned into months which then turned into years and he'd come to reach a point where that expression of surprise annoyed him more than anything.
'Yes,' he wanted to say to those who couldn't disguise their wonder, 'Yes. He picked me. I know I'm lucky. We both are. Fucking deal with it.'
Taehyung and Aecha would tell him other people didn't matter. Relationships between two people were simply between two people, they did not, nor would they ever, belong to the world or to anyone who didn't get it. Love didn't have to be "got" by anyone other than the people in love.
So, as he felt the burning subside, both the one on the back of his neck and the one in his stomach, he resisted the urge to turn around. Seokjin pulled away from the kiss, smiled at him and took away his drink, downing the rest of the sparkling water. It was one of the only things Jeongguk ordered whenever they came to the Arcadia. Drinking was fine, he'd discovered, but it wasn't for him.
"Having fun?" Jeongguk asked, trying his hardest to fight a smile.
Seokjin was a fallen angel in front of him. Decked from head to toe in a shimmering white getup that had taken Jeongguk a lifetime to redesign. It was during the summer that they had found, among heaps and heaps of sweater vests and spring cardigans, a lonely and terribly extravagant white dress. It wasn't shimmering then, not when they found it, for it had been a plain satin frock with a draping of sheer chiffon.
Jeongguk knew it was going to be something even if he couldn't for the life of him figure out how he was going to get it that way. But he believed in it which was why he paid more for it than he'd ever paid for anything at the thrift store. After he'd taken it home, Seokjin asked him what it was that he saw in such a thing and Jeongguk promised him that the next time he saw it, he would know the answer with no shadow of a doubt.
The dress spent weeks laid out on the floor in his bedroom, conveniently hid under a blanket each time Seokjin came to visit, before he could manage to make the first cut. Once he did, everything else came together. It was the dress that made him discover just how much he liked making things. He liked making food, he liked making art, he liked making something new out of something old. It was him who added the glittering beads, who cut the dress into what was now a wide pant legged one piece suit with all sorts of flair. When he unveiled the end result, he was certain that the sight of it nearly had brought Seokjin to tears.
"The time of my life, of course," Seokjin said breezily. His white and silver eye makeup was still in tact and it brought to mind the first time Jeongguk had gone to Disco Night. "And are you? Having the time of your life?"
"I would be if you'd let me dance with you."
Taking another sip of the sparkling water, Seokjin exhaled his response slowly, the words dripping from his mouth like honey. He fluttered his eyes shut as he did it. Everything graceful, everything in slow motion. "When encountered with sudden weather changes like, say, rain or fog or snow, how much do you need to decrease your speed if you're driving over 60 kilometers per hour?"
Jeongguk knew well enough know he should have known the answer to that question. It's a good kind of ignorant, he was once read, to know enough to know that you don't know anything just yet. As an answer, he offered a smile and laced their hands together. "One dance," he said.
Seokjin leaned forward again and kissed the top of his head. He set down the now empty glass and reached a hand out the opposite way for Jimin who was returning to them.
"Study," he said. "And that doesn't mean watching me dance."
Jimin, offering a brief smile in his direction, took Seokjin's hand and the two of them were off to return to the dance floor. Jeongguk called to their backs. "I was studying."
Seokjin didn't look back when he called, "Okay."
They were both smiling and they both knew that. "I was."
"Okay, I said."
Only then did Seokjin turn back to smile at him before getting swallowed up in the crowd of rhythmic, writhing bodies. Once they were no longer in sight, Jeongguk looked away from the crowd and down at the manual laying out in front of him.
The latest driver's manual looked back at him, pages open to the section on basics like traffic signals and street signs. There were bits of text he'd highlighted in bright pink and bright yellow, residue from pencil marks that didn't erase all the way and then more marks in red pen. Next to the manual was a notebook with a page full of bulleted rules and regulations. He'd written them down in the hopes that writing it would make it easier for him to recall. So far, the method was proving to be offensively ineffective. Next week would mark his second time taking the written exam for the first step in getting his driver's license.
He'd failed the first written exam which came as a shock to him and, if he was being honest, still shocked him when he thought about it because he knew the answers. Most of them. Okay, he didn't know the answer to the question Seokjin had just asked him, but he knew the basics. He knew the right-of-way laws, he knew how to safely pass, how to safely change lanes, the rules of the road when it came to bus lanes and bike lanes. There were a few questions on the exam that had thrown him off but he felt that he'd done well.
When he found out his actual grade, he was mortified. And the more he studied, the more mortified he became. Because he knew the answers to those questions. As he studied, there was nothing he read that made him go, Ah-ha, and recognize the exact point where he messed up. As he read back on everything, marking up pages and pages of driver's manual, he felt frustrated. He didn't know how he failed but he presumed it had something to do with everything that was happening that day.
The day of his exam was the same day that he and Seokjin had their first, most significant "fight."
Calling it a fight was difficult for him because it wasn't like the couple fights he saw on TV or in movies, nor was it like the fights he witnessed in the Arcadia between hot-headed lovers. It was a quiet fight. There was no yelling but there were a lot of tears (on both parts), a lot of pleading (on Jeongguk's part) and a lot of repeating (on Seokjin's part). So, by the time he went to take the exam, his mind was abuzz with the detrimental What Ifs that had the power to kill drive and ambition.
Then, suddenly, he failed.
Seokjin was very understanding and very gentle with him after that. He said he'd help with the studying and that, by the time Jeongguk took the test again, he would be ready. So far, Seokjin was keeping good on his promise. At first, he objected to going out on Disco Night but seeing as it was the last Disco Night of the year, Jeongguk insisted and he even promised that he would still get his studying in if Seokjin just promised to have a good time tonight.
He didn't have the heart to tell Seokjin that he'd taken his exam again two days after he initially failed it. And that he passed. And that he had his permit currently. It wasn't that he wanted to keep secrets from Seokjin. Truthfully, it was the hardest thing in the world not to tell him, to be so excited about something and not be able to tell the only person he wanted to tell. But he also knew Seokjin, who loved him dearly, would be scared, although he'd never admit it, when he heard the truth.
Because although Jeongguk thought a license to drive a car would be cool, that wasn't his priority. He had to get one anyway in order to get what he really wanted but it wasn't his number one goal.
He looked at the dance floor once more to ensure no one was returning for a drink or a kiss for the bartender. Then he slid the driver's manual to the side to pick up the motorcyclist manual that Aecha was helping him study for. Well. She said she wasn't helping him study for it because she didn't believe in being dishonest in relationships but she also reformatted his flash cards so who's to say?
Jeongguk shuffled through his flashcards. His road test was tomorrow and he felt quite confident as a driver. Ever since that day two years ago when they got caught in the rain, he'd driven Seokjin around as much as possible, getting used to the feel of the Stellar. The car was veering close to the edge of death, the engine sputtering at every press of the gas pedal, one of the side mirrors started hanging off and was now held together only by a meek strip of duct tape.
The failing car was part of the reason he desperately wanted to earn his motorcycle license. Buying a new car would be expensive. Buying a lightly used motorcycle from the infamous Sijangbuk-ro street was easy. So easy, in fact, Jeongguk had already laid claim to a beautiful Yamaha V-Star 250. It was in great condition with shining chrome features and a body painted with a deep shade of purple, so deep that it almost looked black. It was gorgeous and, in about twenty-four hours -- give or take -- it was going to be his.
He read through the flashcards, quizzing himself, and pictured taking Seokjin on a ride through the Raimi District. Maybe they'd go up to the quiet beachside town a few bus rides away and spend an evening by the ocean. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
He realized, halfway into his stack of flash cards, that he had no clue what he was reading over. He needed help, otherwise his brain just turned itself inward and fixated itself on creating all sorts of dreamy scenarios. Aecha was still in the bathroom so he sat and waited patiently for Taehyung to finish serving a drink to a guy with reverse cat eye makeup and loads of body glitter. Cat Eye was clearly flirting. He was laughing a lot, using every excuse he could to get closer to Taehyung -- as close as he could provided the bar separating them -- and lowered his gaze in the way that's most appropriate for the bedroom. And Taehyung, being the friendly and polite person that he was, simply made conversation, simply made Cat Eye's drink and simply carried on without reciprocating any of it.
When Taehyung caught his eye, he took a few steps toward him and leaned forward, picking up the stack of flashcards. In the past couple of years, he'd decided to let his hair grow out, a decision that Jeongguk questioned inwardly but a decision that turned out to be a wise one. His hair fell under his chin, just a touch above his shoulders and it grew out in ocean waves. At one of their dinner parties, Seokjin made his case for why Taehyung should get caramel highlights and why Seokjin would be the perfect person to do it. Two weeks later, the look was complete, Taehyung got a job as a bartender and had been in the business of making people at the Arcadia swoon ever since.
"Did Jimin already tell you about dinner tomorrow night?"
"He never tells me anything."
"Well, Jimin's planning a dinner for tomorrow night. Seokjin already bought the wine, I'm bringing the dessert and that just leaves you. Don't show up empty handed this time."
Jeongguk could only stare. "Last time I almost didn't show up because no one ever tells me anything."
Ignoring him, Taehyung flipped over one of the cards incredulous and asked, "Why a motorcycle?"
"It's like a bike. But faster."
"But more dangerous."
"I happen to have it on good authority that the fatality rate for bike riders is a lot higher than the fatality right for car drivers. So, maybe, I'm making a safer decision."
"I happen to have it on better authority that bikes are the second most dangerous way to get around. Do you want to guess what the first is?"
Jeongguk resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Part of the reason he hadn't told Seokjin about his plan to get his Class M license was because Seokjin, free spirited as he was, could be a worry wart when it came to safety. He was good at masking his concern, about being casual, but he worried about things like that. About motorcyclists on major highways, about dangerous people lurking in shadows, about the safety of those who held dear to him. Taehyung was like a preview to what Seokjin's reaction would be.
"I have all the necessary gear. I'll be safe."
"Does that account for the other drivers on the road?"
"I read that seat belts are only 60% effective, did you know that?"
Taehyung sighed but he was smiling. He shuffled through the cards again and, when they were mixed up enough, picked one up and read: "When riding with a group of motorcyclists, a staggered formation is A) recommended at all times, B) should not be used when entering or exiting a highway or C) should be used when riding on curves?"
"When am I really going to be riding with a group of motorcyclists when all my friends can do is tell me how dangerous it is?"
From behind, Jeongguk heard Aecha's voice chiming in, "Just answer the question."
"Is recommended at all times," Jeongguk said.
Aecha took a card from the deck at the same time that she took a sip from her drink which was the exact same shade of green her hair had been when they first met. "A primary cause of single vehicle motorcycle collisions is A) motorcyclists' tendency to drive too fast for weather conditions--"
"That's victim blaming," Taehyung uttered with an inappropriate laugh that made all three of them giggle.
"B) Motorcyclists running wide in a curve or turn and colliding with the roadway or a fixed object," Aecha continued. "Or C) Motorcyclists running off the road while trying to avoid a collision with another vehicle."
With more confidence than he knew what to do with, Jeongguk answered: "B) Running wide in a curve, colliding with fixed object."
"I don't know why you're even studying," Aecha said. She settled her fingers on the crown of her head and waved her hand from side to side, intentionally shagging her hair which had probably, in her eyes, become too neat. "You know all of the answers."
"I like being prepared," he answered, taking his stack and flipping through it again.
"You're prepared."
"Exactly." Taehyung nodded in the direction of the floor. "Dance with your boyfriend. It's Disco Night."
He stashed away his study materials into his backpack and, without even asking for permission, dropped the bag onto Taehyung's side of the bar for safekeeping. He and Aecha made their way into the crowd where they found Seokjin and Jimin almost immediately. They were the only two people who fought tooth and nail to dance right under the disco ball and somehow, even after leaving the dance floor twice, they managed to get the spot back.
The disco ball was spinning patterned silver lights onto them as they twirled in the center. The music had changed from Donna Summer's entire Four Seasons of Love (reprise included) to Diana Ross' "It's My House." Jeongguk slid up, tapped Jimin on the shoulder and, when given the attention he was seeking, put on his most proper voice and asked,
"May I cut in?"
Jimin nodded, smiling at Seokjin as he walked away, their hands lingering together. His smile grew bigger when he saw Aecha was standing in as Seokjin's replacement and immediately started dancing with her instead. Over the years, with ample exposure to Seokjin's music collection, Aecha's aversion to disco had subsided. In fact, she'd come to appreciate it and had a growing fondness for Grace Jones who she considered to be punk rock.
Pretending to be upset used to work really well on Jeongguk. He'd catch the wrinkle in Seokjin's forehead, the furrowed brow, the slightly pursed lip and think he'd done something to upset him. But he knew Seokjin now better than he'd come to know anyone, had the pleasure of learning him like a book that was just too good to put down. He recognized the telltale signs of disguised amusement, the lip that Seokjin was struggling to keep still, the gleam in his eyes that gave away his affection.
Jeongguk had gained the ability to read Seokjin just as well as he read the books on his shelf and every book that he was able to get his hands on. Of all the greats he's read, of all the Pulitzer prize winning and highly esteemed novels, of all the poetry and philosophy, Seokjin was his favorite literature.
"I take it you've mastered everything," his love said, putting his hands on his hips in mock disappointment. "You better pass with flying colors."
"Maybe I will," Jeongguk answered over the music. "Maybe I won't. But I couldn't resist. I just had to have at least one dance."
And Seokjin opened his arms gracefully, allowing Jeongguk stepped into them, allowing him to placing his hands on broad shoulders and to sink into the body he came to adore so much. As soon as they were next to each other, hands on each other, breaths exchanged, the rest of the world quieted. Jeongguk couldn't even hear the song, couldn't even hear the crowd. He could only hear their heartbeats beating the same rhythm at the same time, could only hear his voice when he said, earnestly, by the shell of Seokjin's ear:
"Do you know why? I couldn't resist?"
"I have an idea."
And Jeongguk said it, the words he made sure to say often, the words he credited with opening up his world the way it had been opened, the words that made him who he was today. He whispered it like he whispered it the first night he said it, held onto Seokjin and breathed:
"I like you so much."
The first fight they had was one that gave Jeongguk something akin to a panic attack. He hadn't experienced one of this before and legitimately thought he was going to die. His chest felt tight, it was impossible to catch his breath and the world around him was spinning. It wasn't even that explosive of an argument. Actually, neither one of them had even raised their voice, not even the slightest decibel.
But when you love someone, the threat or the mere idea of no longer having the option of loving them had the potential to make one, especially one as fragile as he had been back then, panic. And panic, he did.
The panic didn't start until after the fight. To this day, he remained unsure as to whether what they talked about could even be considered a fight. But it had started, the way most fights start, quite innocently. They were in Seokjin's apartment where, despite having moved out of only months prior, Jeongguk spent a fair amount of his time. They were washing the dishes. Seokjin, washing. Jeongguk, rinsing. And he'd been in utter love with the moment, in love with the simplicity of it.
After leaving home, he learned what it meant for a place to be home. He learned that sometimes a person could be home. And he learned, to his surprise, that home was supposed to be a place of comfort. He learned that home with Seokjin, with Jimin and Taehyung, even with Aecha who rarely invited him anywhere, felt like wrapping up in a blanket on a freezing day. Wrapping up in a blanket, sitting in front of the fire, reading a good book and drinking something hot. Home was supposed to feel like that. And he felt like that in the moment, completely immersed in safety, completely immersed in love.
And he told Seokjin, as he set one of the dishes onto the drying rack, that he loved him.
'So much,' he wanted to say. 'So much, I didn't know it was possible to love someone so much.'
It wasn't the first time he said it either. Of the many nights they spent losing themselves to each other, he said it a thousand, perhaps a million, times over. Sometimes he used the words, three of them, simple and direct. Other times, he used other words, more or less of them, that always said the same thing.
'Have you eaten?' (I love you).
'Are you okay?' (I love you).
'Do you need anything?' (I love you).
'Did you get home safe?' (I love you).
'Good night, love' (I love you. I really do).
But it was the first time he'd gotten the reaction that he did. Seokjin said it back but his voice was empty and absent. Then, after they'd finish the dishes and had retreated to the bedroom, Seokjin added:
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you love me?"
There are questions with answers so obvious that answering them feels unnecessary. It called to mind something like someone asking him why he was breathing or how he was existing. He just was. He just did. Because it made sense, because that was how it came to be. Still, he tried to answer it to the best of his ability. He came up with obvious things like how he felt, how alive and how loved. Then he reached for the obscure reasons, the more specific reasons, citing things about Seokjin, little quirks that he'd come to fall in love with over the time they'd spent together.
After he was done bleeding from the chest, he wondered why this was being brought up at all. He asked if his love was doubted. If, after all of this time, his love was still uncertain in the eyes of the person receiving it. Seokjin told him that wasn't it.
"What is it then?"
"How do you know you're in love with me?"
This, he'd realize much later, was where the panic started. Where his heart rate started to increase and his breath started to hasten. This was the beginning because it felt like an end. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't doubt what you feel," Seokjin said, placing a hand on his arm to placate him and usually it would work. But Jeongguk was growing more worried, his stomach knotting up. The touch was doing anything and everything but calming him down. "I know you love me. I do."
"Then why are you asking?"
"Because I don't think you've been in love with anyone else. And I don't think you've..."
"What?"
"You say things sometimes about spending the rest of your life with me and it all sounds so romantic, it does, but how do you know that for sure when...when you've never had anyone else?"
Jeongguk almost rolled his eyes then but he didn't. He did, however, groan something so fierce and almost annoyed. No matter what, it always came down to experience or the lack of it. No matter what, it always came down to the things he was trying so hard to make up for. He stood from the bed and started to pace. He did it to calm himself but it, much like Seokjin's touches, wasn't working. He shouldn't have been getting so worked up but the conversation sounded like a prelude to a breakup and it was ripping him up inside.
"Jeongguk."
"Don't call me that," he said with no bite in his voice, just a gentle plea. He paced back and forth. "So...So, what, you want to break up now?"
Seokjin's eyes widened so much. He looked so shocked. So wounded. "No. I didn't say anything close to that. Are you listening to me?"
"Of course, I'm listening. Are you hearing what you're saying?"
"All I'm asking is if you're sure. Because, honey, think about it, there's so much you haven't gotten to experience. I mean, with other people. How can you know that I'm the one for you when you haven't been with anyone else?"
He stopped pacing for a moment to look at Seokjin. He knew, felt, that he must have looked ridiculous. "I'm not an idiot, Seokjin. I'm not stupid. I know you're the one because you're the one, what do you want me to say?"
"I don't know, I just..."
He trailed off and Jeongguk continued, "I don't need to be with anyone else to know that where I want to be is here. With you. Do you need to go to Hell to know you'd rather be in Heaven? Look at Taehyung and Jimin, they've been together since they were kids. They're the only people they've ever been with and they're happy. Aren't you happy?"
"I am."
"So, why can't you believe that I might be, too?"
That's when the tears came. From both of them. If fights were supposed to happen while crying, Jeongguk decided then and there that he didn't want to ever have another fight in his life. He couldn't understand Seokjin's point of view and Seokjin couldn't understand his. So, instead of sleeping over that night, Jeongguk went home, fell into his bed and listened to the EPs of My Bloody Valentine while bemoaning the world.
Much later, they revisited the topic again. And only then was Jeongguk able to begin to understand. Even though Seokjin was confident at being and good at life, there were some things that brought him anxiety. He had a past and people with pasts were inclined to the dreadful when the past looked like it was returning to them. Just as Jeongguk was anxious about the topic of God (he was still working through everything that happened in his childhood), Seokjin was anxious about people not being ready to commit to him. He had experiences with boys like Jeongguk, boys who said they knew who they were but, in the end, proved to be so uncertain that they recanted everything. All their promises and declarations of love. Gone.
So, Jeongguk could understand even though what he wanted to say was, 'I'm not them. I love you. There isn't a whole lot that I'm sure of anymore, but I'm sure of that.'
Instead of arguing his case in a fight, he put the topic to bed and chose to instead shower Seokjin with the kind of affection that he wouldn't be able to question. To remind him every day that he was loved and that it was real, that years ago when he said things like 'I like you so much' and wrote three word sentences on chalk walls, he really, truly, madly, deeply meant every word.
glittered turtles
It was always, without fail, the turtle that greeted him first.
The thing that woke Seokjin on the mornings he shared with his boyfriend wasn't the bed being empty, it was when there was no longer warm breath gently fanning his face and no hand wrapped around his own. Each morning, by the time he opened his eyes, Jeongguk's back was facing him as he rolled out of bed and it was always the turtle that Seokjin saw first.
The turtle was the first tattoo Jeongguk got. On his back, close to his left shoulder. It was a simple design but one Jeongguk spent weeks, if not months, trying to figure out. He fret over every minute detail. He wasn't sure if he wanted a hyperrealistic turtle or a bare, minimalistic turtle. A big one, taking up most of the blank canvas that was his skin or a tiny one that would be almost imperceptible. A black turtle or a colorful turtle. He wasn't even sure where he wanted it on his body. But he knew, with resolute certainty, that he wanted a turtle.
He said the idea for it was that turtles lived for a long time. That they carried on in the face of adversity, that they took advantage of each second on Earth they were given, that they were perseverant and patient. It was the spirit of the turtle that he wanted to carry with him. To be brave in the face of fear, to make the most out of the time he was given -- to make the most of the time they had together, to be perseverant and patient even when he felt like giving up. Seokjin told him that, although he didn't think people needed to have special reasons for wanting to get tattoos, it was the most beautiful reasoning he'd ever heard. When the design of the turtle was set, they made a visit to a tattoo shop near Flower Island and, since that day, Jeongguk's body, little by little, became covered in more and more stories.
Flames, ocean waves, lines from favorite poems and favorite songs, words that were precious, words that were funny and symbols that Seokjin knew, even if Jeongguk would claim otherwise, represented him. He told, perhaps even begged, Jeongguk not to get a tattoo of his name. He knew all too well about lovers and tattoos. The two didn't go together in any capacity. He could see a future where the two of them would cease to exist and he imagined, to great anxiety, what word Jeongguk would turn his name into if they broke up. He made a list of all the words his name could become and the most damning ones were "seokhoe jintong" which made no sense and "seok jindan" which made less sense. Jeongguk agreed but he was clever enough to find ways around it. For one, there was the arrow etched on the inside of his wrist that looked suspiciously like the symbol of Sagittarius. Then there was a tattoo of a plumeria flower on the right side of his neck, one that looked suspiciously like the flower pattern on all of Seokjin's Hawaiian shirts.
If it was anyone else, Seokjin would think he was conceited for even thinking that. But he knew, just as he knew the color of the sky and that the sun would always rise, that Jeongguk loved him. It also helped that he noticed how one of his Hawaiian shirts went missing the day Jeongguk got the tattoo of the plumeria, only to return the next time he spent the night.
Seokjin let him leave, listened to his soft footsteps trail out of the bedroom and into the living room then, from there, into the kitchen. He waited for Jeongguk to come back but he heard the unmistakable sounds of the kettle starting to boil and he knew coffee would be made for him soon. So, he sat up and stretched his arms outward, set his legs on the edge of the bed and rotated his ankles to wake them up. He rolled his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders and then sat with the quiet for one more lingering moment.
The bedroom was still dark, no hint of sunlight beginning to color the curtains. No songs from the birds outside. The morning was still young. He looked around the room, his eyes seeing well in the dark, and smiled a little. He, naturally, was all over this room. Pictures of himself and his friends, his grandmother, his accessories on the dresser. But Jeongguk was here, too. His vintage Bauhaus shirt strewn on the foot of the bed, his headphones lying on the side table, his reading glasses sitting on the dresser next to Seokjin's star-shaped sunglasses.
Before he gave himself a chance to dwell in it -- it being the way his life changed so quickly, right before his eyes -- he got up, slipped into his slippers, wrapped himself up in a pale silk robe and left the bedroom.
Music was playing softly on the stereo when he got out, so low that he almost didn't hear it but as he got closer to the sound, it became clearer. In the kitchen, Jeongguk's back was facing him as he started to whip something up. The kettle was on, Shinji Sato was singing about the atmosphere of a country and the hiding of melodies and Jeongguk was humming along. This was the soundtrack to his life. It was candy to his ears.
He slid up behind Jeongguk, leaned into his back and kissed his right shoulder, close to the spot where his favorite tattoo was. There, etched into his body, were two verses from his favorite Moon Taejun poem, "The Snowy Night."
외로운 천체에
성스러운 고요가 내린다
a sacred quiet descends
upon the lonely planet
Those words weaved together were so pleasant that the first time the poem had been read to him, Seokjin asked if they could be repeated. Thinking of those verses, he kissed the spot on Jeongguk's shoulder again. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Nervous," Jeongguk answered and he sounded like it, like his body was too wired for sleep. He exhaled heavy and slow, dropping a slice of butter onto the pan atop the stove.
"You're gonna do fine."
"I really hope so. I'm so," he paused and then turned around, facing Seokjin. His smile was soft, sleepy and anxious. He looked so different from the boy who knocked on his door and it had Seokjin in awe every day. "First of all, good morning."
Seokjin beamed and fell into his arms. "Good morning."
"How'd you sleep?"
Each time he was asked that question, he gave the same answer and he knew, following the nights they spent together, it was a question Jeongguk asked in part so he could hear the answer. "You already know what I'm going to say, let's not make a thing of it."
"Oh," Jeongguk laughed, snickered. "Babe, it's already very much a thing."
Seokjin pulled away from his embrace and shrugged. "I don't know, is it?"
"Just say it. You know you're dying to."
Really, he looked like the same kid. But more certain. When he walked now, he didn't look down. When he said things now, he didn't second guess himself. His eyes were still so big and so curious, wide open for him to read every single book he could get his hands on, to fill his personal library with the likes of James Baldwin, Hwang Son Yong and Rosario Castellanos. Even with the tattoos, new clothes and reading glasses, he looked like the same person. But what changed was not really physical. It was the way he carried himself. It was the newfound confidence that colored the way he spoke, the way he wondered, even the way he breathed.
He leaned forward and mussed Jeongguk's hair which bedhead had already turned into an unruly nest of all sorts of curls going in different directions. "Better with you."
Seokjin waved his hand and turned around, spinning himself out of Jeongguk's arms and taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Now, what were you going to say? You're so...?"
Busying himself with making the rest of the coffee and cracking an egg into the pan of melted butter, Jeongguk carried on, "I'm so tired of catching up. I feel like I'm running a race with no finish line."
"Honey, if what you're alluding to is the race of life, there is a finish line. It's called death."
"Right, duh, but every thing has a ... I don't know a lot about racing. Help me out here."
"Me? You know my idea of extreme sports is sex outside the bedroom, right?"
Jeongguk laughed more than he should have. "I don't know. Rites of passage, then. Everyone else, they've already experienced everything they're supposed to experience by now. And I'm...I don't know, I'm trying to figure out. They have this all figured out. This life thing. But me, I'm late to the party. I'm trying to catch up but I'm so behind on everything and I'm tired of trying to catch up."
"You're not behind, love. You're in bloom."
"What?"
"In bloom. You know, like a flower or that Nirvana album you adore--"
"I don't adore it, it's just a classic."
"It's really loud."
And there, Jeongguk made a little familiar sound. Almost like a squeak of adoration and did his best impression of Seokjin: "You're so lucky you're cute."
Jeongguk didn't wait for Seokjin to even be able to think of a clever response. He finished it before it could start by setting a mug of coffee in front of him, kissing the top of his head and immediately changing the subject:
"If all goes well and, according to you, it will; I'll be picking you up after work. Just don't be surprised when you see me."
"Why would I be surprised? I know you'll pass this time."
Jeongguk smiled sheepishly, saying nothing, and it wouldn't be for another eight hours that Seokjin would learn why.
Seokjin never really considered himself to be relationship prone. He, of course, had friends and family. He could easily spend time with his grandmother, with people like Heeyeon and he had his fair share of lovers that lasted the length of a summer evening. But relationships required commitment and patience, two things that he felt deeply evaded him. At first, being in a relationship with Jeongguk felt like the most natural thing in the world. He couldn't fathom it being any other way. From the moment they kissed, loving him felt akin to fate, something so deeply out of his hands that he needn't think about doing anything.
It was easy. He figured that perhaps in some ways, love was always easy in the beginning. That's why they give it names like 'puppy love' or 'honeymoon stage' because falling in love and falling hard is easy. Sometimes, though, love wasn't enough to sustain a relationship and he was learning that every day. Even without the external issues, the issues that exist between two people trying to gel even when they want to in two different directions, the internal issues were a nightmare. The self-doubt could start eating away at him in the night and by morning, he would have convinced himself that they'd made an awful mistake, that he had made an awful mistake. And undoing that took so much longer than it took to do it at all.
Love was equal parts loving someone unconditionally and loving oneself unquestionably. It meant never allowing oneself to slip into self-doubt for so long that they could ruin a thing. And Seokjin often came close, perilously so, to ruining a good thing with Jeongguk. Like when he was afraid of them being together, afraid that one day Jeongguk would realize being with one person wasn't something he wanted and he broke it off to have experience. Everyone deserved to have experience. And somehow, Seokjin had convinced himself that the experience was more important than the love.
It took words said to him on a night they'd spent away from Casi Cielo; in the quiet, little neighborhood that Jeongguk and Taehyung moved into simply called The Avenue; for him to remember what they had and to remember why he was being plagued by self-doubt.
The Avenue had only three complete apartment buildings as the rest were still being constructed. It made sleeping over quite a hassle because there was always the sound of metal scraping, jackhammers pounding or whatever else could be found on construction sights. Always in the early hours of the morning. Of course, it made sense for the workers but it really was a pain to wake up to.
Despite the noise, the apartment was very nice, neatly decorated with the help of a very tasteful Libra and a very elegant Sagittarius. The entire space was lovely but it was Jeongguk's bedroom that Seokjin adored the most. Probably because it was Jeongguk's. There was something special about the private space of an individual. What people kept said an awful lot about them, what they read said an awful lot about them, the state of their rooms -- full clutter or neatly organized -- said an awful lot about them. Jeongguk's bedroom was full of books, new and old, polished and dusty.
Books on his shelf (the first piece of furniture he bought), books stacked on the floor by the bed, books on the dresser, books on the nightstand. His glasses, which he had a case for, were rarely put away in a place to be expected. Seokjin typically had to enter the room slowly and carefully, paying careful attention to where his feet were going, because Jeongguk's glasses could often be found lying next to whatever book he was reading. Where there was a book, open and flipped over with the cover facing upward, there were a pair of black and red pantos glasses, the temple tips of which were slightly chewed.
Along with books, there were albums. There were vinyl records, CDs, two pairs of headphones that were alternated between rock records (every possible rock sub genre) and jazz records (everything that wasn't rock).
On that day, they were lying in bed, one of the records playing low on the stereo. Jeongguk's head was in his lap and he said, slowly slipping off the edge of sleep, "People date other people to find the one they love," he said. "And I found you when I wasn't even looking."
Seokjin said nothing. He thought and he thought. The silence returned, almost louder than the music and it was lulling him to sleep when Jeongguk continued,
"I think about the end all the time. Death, destruction. I used to think it was because of fear but now I think it's because of love. Because I love life, I think about death. Because I love you, I think about what happens when it's over. Because i don't want any of it to be over," he took a shaky breath and rolled over a little. "And I think that's why you worry, too. Because when you get something you care about, all you can think about is it being gone."
Then Jeongguk looked up at him, eyes so tired and mind half gone to slumber. But for just a moment, he looked clear and present. "But I'm not going anywhere. Are you?"
Seokjin shook his head, slow and steady. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Okay."
"...Okay."