Chapter Text
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By the grace of god, Milan traffic is on his side tonight. After blowing up Seokjin’s phone with vague threats and crying emojis, Taehyung rushed out of practice. Now he’s speeding the short drive from Allianz arena to his apartment so he can do it in person, too. Seokjin better be there. After what Taehyung heard at lunch today, he better have a good explanation.
He pulls up in his designated parking spot, killing the engine and rushing toward the elevator. Out of spite, Taehyung repeatedly presses the button as if it’ll make it come faster. It doesn’t and by the time he makes his way inside and waits for the doors of the penthouse to open, he’s feeling dramatically wronged and betrayed. A part of him hopes that Seokjin is in there, but another part of him hopes he’ll never show his traitorous face again.
Taehyung finds Seokjin dusting the ceiling fan in his living room—exactly where he knew he would be.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
With a pinched brow, Taehyung stares at Seokjin with as much annoyance as he can muster. He throws his jacket on the floor for Seokjin to pick up later.
Seokjin raises a brow in question, not phased enough to stop what he’s doing, apparently. “Who told you that?”
“Everyone at the company is gossiping about it. Two years together, and this is how I find out…from the cafeteria ladies.”
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Taehyung would die without him. His calendars, bills, meetings, events, even his groceries, all of it is done by Seokjin. He takes care of everything so that all Taehyung has to do is show up. He doesn’t even know where the nearest grocery store is. Granted, they haven’t been in Italy long, but Seokjin knows what he needs better than he himself does. He absolutely cannot leave him behind. Fuck, Taehyung should get on his knees and beg.
Seokjin sighs. “I didn’t tell you because I’m not breaking up with you.” He stares at the wall for a second, as if the realization is a weird one and says, “Oddly, babysitting you pays better than any promotion they were willing to give me, so you’re stuck with me. Or, I guess, I’m stuck with you.”
Following the sweet relief of knowing his agent isn’t going to dump him, comes a prickling annoyance from the prospect of it. Was Seokjin seeking out a promotion? He never mentioned anything to him. They really have been together since day one, back when Taehyung signed on with the national team and Seokjin was scrambling to graduate early so he could leave with him. He was so invested in Taehyung’s success, he started learning Italian before Italy was even in the picture.
All of Taehyung’s conditions included having Seokjin by his side. Sure, maybe he does some work outside of his sport agent duties, but that’s because they’re best friends. It’s not like Taehyung doesn’t pay him enough. He pays him more than what was offered in the contract, actually. He rethinks the begging-on-his-knees part.
Taehyung scoffs. “I’m a great employer, fuck you.”
He picks up his jacket and hangs it by the door. He should play nice so Seokjin doesn’t think about leaving him again.
Seokjin drops the duster and pulls his phone out of his back pocket with a shrug. “You’re…fine. Did you look over your updated calendar?”
Taehyung’s phone dings with a notification, likely the updated calendar. He ignores it in favor of sitting on the couch and hugging a decorative pillow in a true show of hurt. “No, I was distraught because I thought you were leaving me, and you’re here to look over the calendar. So, look at it and go over it with me.”
Seokjin starts listing. “This week we’re doing the GQ Italy spread, so you’ll be doing the photoshoot and interview on Thursday. Next week you have a thing with Celine, and we’ll fly to Paris for that. You had some more interview requests, a meeting with Esquire, but I haven’t responded to any of them yet, so go through them and let me know what you want to do.” He brings his phone closer to his face and squints. “And then, you have a dinner request from Mingyu? It seems like the request is two-months old, though, so I don’t know what you want to do with that.”
Taehyung waves him off. “Just deny it. I’ll probably catch him tomorrow at a vending machine or something. We’ll share a cereal bar.”
He sees Mingyu all the time. Really, he could stand to see less of him. Taehyung likes all his teammates in healthy doses, but Mingyu is one he can’t get away from. When they’re not practicing together for team USA, they’re together in Milan. They’re good friends, and he’s the first veteran player to take Taehyung in and show him the ropes. It was especially nice to see another Korean player at their level. He likes Mingyu; likes him enough to sleep with him. But, dinner is just overdoing it.
Seokjin, evidently, disagrees. “Sure. Or, you could go to dinner with him? Mingyu’s nice.”
“I have dinner with him all the time.”
“But, like, a nice dinner. Maybe of the romantic variety,” Seokjin suggests. Why hasn’t he denied the request yet?
He’s unbelievable. Seokjin must have a hard time distinguishing between subordinate and friend duties. “Deny the invitation, Seokjin. The last person I should get romantically involved with is my teammate.”
They’d never work out anyway. They’re always told they’re similar, which is annoying, because Taehyung likes to think of himself as extremely fun. Mingyu is just okay. He likes to look at him, fuck him, but that’s as far as his attachment goes. When not in front of him, Mingyu is not in his periphery. He’s not someone Taehyung stays up at night thinking about.
Seokjin lets out a singular ha. Typical, he never takes him seriously. “Funny. I thought that was your type.”
Taehyung snaps his head in his direction with a mean glare. That was clearly ill-intended, and he won’t take the bait. “Let’s call it a lesson learned.”
Still, it sours his mood. He was already in a shit mood, though, so maybe that’s why. Today was so long, and so was yesterday, and tomorrow won’t be any different. This perpetual state of exhaustion is a feeling he’s become accustomed to. Luckily, he’s too busy to stop and worry about it. Taehyung sinks deeper into the couch, welcoming some of that exhaustion now that he’s cozy. It’s a Friday night, so there’s nothing that needs his immediate attention over the weekend. Just thinking about all of the books he’ll read lifts his spirits.
His bedroom door creaks open, and the light patter of nails on wood can be heard as the fluffy little creature that lives here makes her way to him. Taehyung reaches over the couch to scoop her into his arms, reveling in her soft purrs. He takes a deep whiff of her impeccably groomed fur. She smells like vanilla and happiness.
Taehyung coos at her, “Hi, my littlest baby angel. Did Uncle Seokjin cook for you today?”
Boo lets him play with her paws, nuzzling into his lap for another nap. She’s so pretty and perfect. Taehyung adjusts her pink bow around her neck and continues petting her head until she falls back asleep.
“I put a Delectable in her bowl if that’s what you mean,” Seokjin supplies, not looking up from his phone.
Taehyung glares at him even though he’s not looking at him. Boo requires the best of pet nutrition, and Seokjin knows this. Her stomach gets sensitive if she doesn’t eat right. Taehyung grumbles, “I should’ve hired her a personal chef.”
Seokjin snorts. “For your cat? I don’t even think that’s a thing. If anything, you should hire a personal chef for yourself. Your fridge is empty.”
Taehyung asks dejectedly, “You didn’t cook dinner?”
“With what food?”
It would’ve been nice to come home to dinner. A sandwich, at least. The gym cafeteria is okay, but it’s very Italian and very repetitive. There’s only so many days he can eat risotto in a row, and he'd rather die than eat a caprese salad.
“The food you buy with the money I give you.”
Seokjin clearly doesn’t care if he lives or dies. He stands up and starts gathering his things, offering, “Okay, well, I’m leaving. It’s date night. So, order takeout or accept Mingyu’s dinner request. Maybe, he’ll cook for you.”
Taehyung will not be doing that. He gets comfortable on the couch, trying his best not to jostle Boo too much as he reaches for the remote. He says, “Fine. Have fun on your date. I’m happy you’re not breaking up with me.”
To Taehyung’s surprise and Seokjin’s complete expectation, he’s been very popular on Italian Grindr. He has dates most weekends, and he might even be seeing someone regularly. Taehyung doesn’t ask him because it makes him feel bad about his shitty dating life. Seokjin claims that it’s ‘easy when you’re a baddie.’ Taehyung’s not so sure.
Seokjin stomps into his shoes, but he doesn’t leave. Taehyung lets him hover for a second before he gets too impatient. “What? Spit it out.”
“It’s Jeongguk’s birthday today.”
Taehyung freezes for a split second, his hand pausing mid-reach for his water bottle. He doesn’t look up, or let his expression shift, not with how carefully Seokjin is watching him.
“Yeah,” he replies, doing his best to keep any weight out of it. “I know.”
Seokjin hovers a moment longer, fiddling with his phone. Taehyung can tell from the way his eyes linger that he’s waiting for more—waiting to see how Taehyung will respond. He won’t give him the satisfaction. He’s careful not to let the comment sink its teeth. This day hasn’t been more than any other day in years, and Seokjin knows this. Why bring it up now?
“Okay,” Seokjin says softly, almost apologetically, as if he’s regretting it. Taehyung only shrugs.
“Okay,” he echoes, a little more aggressively. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Taehyung stares at the door with a scowl as the door falls shut behind him. It’s been a long time since Jeongguk’s name has been brought up between them, since it was mentioned with anything but a brief nod to volleyball. Weird. Whatever, he’s not going to dwell on it.
He orders a big, juicy, fried chicken sandwich from some fast food place. He gets a side salad with no dressing instead of fries as a mental compromise with his nutritionist. Since college, he’s gotten used to every meal tasting like cardboard. It’s even worse in the big leagues. Taehyung can’t complain too much because his body is working better than it ever has, so he’ll listen to the pros.
When Boo gets up to use her litter box, he takes the chance to grab a glass of wine from the kitchen. His selection is impressive, but it’s more for show. He always drinks the same, white wine, something similar to what Yoongi used to buy at Costco. Taehyung watches Boo fondly for a second before she starts pooping, and he looks away to give her some privacy. His eyes scan over his apartment instead as he takes sips of his wine.
Taehyung loves this place. It’s the perfect blend of homey comfort and a bit of understated luxury. He took one look at the apartment the league was offering him and he knew that wasn’t for him. He’s always lived within his means, and that’s been larger than most can say. There was no reason to settle now. He loves his decor, the high ceilings and brick walls. He’s worked hard to create a home. But, the place is big, and it gets lonely.
It’s why he got Boo, but she’s small and takes up no space at all. The couch is great, and it’d be nice to sit on it with someone other than Seokjin. Maybe, he’s not wrong. Taehyung should put himself out there. He could be a baddie too. He feels weird about bringing people here, though. He has, but they never linger, and the weird interest the media has in his private life freaks him out.
The whole thing is more trouble than it’s worth, really. So, Taehyung spends his Friday nights with his cat, re-watching Cake Boss or some tragedy if he’s in a crying mood. It’s not the most exciting, but he likes his alone time. He doesn’t get much of that anymore. It’s not like he can commit to anything, anyway. He splits his time between California and Italy, and even then he’s fitting different sponsors in his schedule. No, it’d be too much. He’s not looking, anyway.
During his brief, but very anxiety-inducing internal battle over whether he should download a dating app, his phone pings with a notification that his food is here. Taehyung refills his wine before getting Boo set up with some kibble. He dumps his food on the kitchen island, pulls up a random asmr baking video, and digs in. Seokjin left this month’s assortment of magazines and his mail. He ignores the mail, but picks up a random magazine. They get these in the office if any of the athletes are featured. Taehyung likes looking at the fashion spreads and the naked men in them. He also likes the little perfume samples.
He absentmindedly picks at his salad as he flips through, skipping all the long paragraphs written in Italian. Toward the middle, he finally gets to the fashion section, and he gets an eye-full of an impressive six pack. No words and naked men, his favorite. There’s even a perfume attached to it. His mood skyrockets as he gently plucks it off and sets it to the side for later. He flips some more until he gets to a Calvin Klein spread.
It’s a massive two-page spread of a guy sprawled out on a couch, jeans pulled down to his thighs to show off the extremely tight underwear that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The saturation on his chest is insane, and Taehyung counts all of his abs, all weight of them. The face staring back at him with crazy bedroom eyes is Jeongguk’s.
Taehyung chokes on a piece of lettuce he was chewing, dropping the magazine and rushing to the sink to dig the thing out of his throat. It doesn’t work, so he chugs water straight from the tap and prays this isn’t how he dies.
Boo pokes her head from where she was napping on the couch armrest, but he’s too embarrassed to address her right now. Slowly, he picks up the magazine and looks some more. It’s not the nakedness that’s affecting him. Taehyung’s just surprised to see him at all. To his credit, Jeongguk is wearing clothes in some of the shots. He looks good, he always does.
It isn’t the first time he’s seen him in a magazine, and it won’t be the last. Taehyung sees him online too, grainy pictures taken at clubs or in front of someone’s house. The media seems very intent on following Jeongguk’s every step, from what he’s noticed. It seems like an extreme invasion of privacy, but Jeongguk either doesn’t know or isn’t phased. Taehyung doesn’t care either way. It’s not his business.
This, though, the posing and the confidence, it’s different when it’s intentional. Jeongguk is attractive, and Taehyung isn’t going to delude himself into believing he’s not attracted to him. Of course, he is. He flips another page, and Jeongguk is in underwear in this one. Strangely, it makes him laugh, seeing him in major fashion magazines. The Jeongguk he knows wears Hanes boxers that come in a 3-pack, maybe Pair of Thieves if Target was having a sale. It was Taehyung who bought him his first pair of Calvin’s at a mall.
It’s a happy memory for him. These days, he doesn’t think of Jeongguk much. In a way, though, he’ll always be a constant in his life. Taehyung never would’ve gotten a cat if he didn’t spend so much time with Big Mac, and he might’ve not picked up a volleyball after high school. He certainly wouldn’t play at the level he does now. He never would’ve met Seokjin, his agent, who was Jeongguk’s best friend first. He never would’ve met any of his best friends. So, he doesn’t think about him, but Taehyung remembers him. His influence, the infatuation, all of the heartbreak and the good in between.
Taehyung knows he’ll never forget Jeongguk, and he’ll never try to. It was never about forgetting or pretending it didn’t matter. It mattered, deeply. It changed him, shaped him, and in some ways, it always will. It took him a long time to realize that holding on to the pain wasn’t keeping the love alive. It was keeping him stuck, bound to a version that could no longer exist.
He’s happy now, maybe even happier than he ever was with Jeongguk, maybe not. They haven’t seen each other in over three years, and he’s okay with that. It has to count for something. So, he flips through the pages with a smile, a small fondness overtaking him at seeing him so successful. He wonders if Jeongguk is happy too, if he looks in the mirror and sees everything he’s ever wanted. Taehyung hopes so.
It’s a genuine thought, one he’s happy to have. He flips to the next page and Jeongguk’s face is replaced with another model. With that, the idea of him disappears from Taehyung’s mind, and he happily rips off another perfume sample. By the time he’s done with the magazine, he has an impressive collection going.
Taehyung sets up on the couch with Boo and smells them all. By the time he’s done his nose and head sting from all the fumes, although it could also be the bottle of wine he killed. He’s not tired enough to sleep, but he’s too keyed up to keep watching TV. He grabs his phone and starts scrolling through the apps. Well, he could text Mingyu. That would certainly tire him out, and he’s kind of a horny drunk.
Taehyung looks at the time. It’s past midnight now, September 2nd. It’s not Jeongguk’s birthday anymore. “Happy birthday,” he mumbles to no one, tossing his phone down as he sags deeper into the couch.
Soon their paths will cross. Much sooner than Taehyung feels ready for. Their lives are too intertwined now for them to avoid each other forever, especially with volleyball. Taehyung sighs, rubbing a hand down his face and trying to dispel the tight knot in his stomach. He hates this, how something as simple as the thought of seeing Jeongguk could make him feel so unsteady. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to see him, exactly.
It’s more that he doesn’t know how to see him anymore. They aren’t the same people they used to be, and pretending otherwise would only make things worse. He’s thought about what he would say a thousand times, rehearsed conversations in his head, and tried to imagine a scenario where they could talk like normal. Like friends do? As if. Every time, something stops him, a small, stubborn part that isn’t ready to offer Jeongguk closure.
Is that too cruel of him? Maybe. Taehyung’s had too much wine to decide that now. Why is he even thinking about him? It’s all Seokjin’s fault.
Texting Mingyu sounds like a lot of effort. Taehyung’s not actually that horny, and Mingyu lives far. Boo also hates Mingyu, so he better not ruin her night. Resolved, Taehyung relocates to his bedroom and sinks into the bed with a happy hum. Money can buy happiness. The mattress feels like his very own personal cloud of comfort. Boo gets cozy on the foot of the bed. He covers her with the bottom of the comforter, and decides to get under the covers too. Sleep comes quicker than he anticipated.
He never ends up going over that calendar.
—
Taehyung now has an exact date for when he’ll be seeing Jeongguk, and it makes him sweat. They’re playing Padova. It’s not today, so he does his best to push it to the back of his mind and focus on the present.
Their next game is an away game. Taehyung and the team are currently in Perugia, a cute little town nestled atop a hill in central Italy. He likes it here, the nice blend between modern and medieval architecture. Everything smells like espresso and truffles and pastries, and Taehyung wants to die because he wants it all in his mouth.
They’re leaving tomorrow after the game, and he’s already planned on stuffing his suitcase full of panpepato. He takes a brief glance at the sad, little oatmeal cookie Mingyu sets in front of him. After they dropped their bags off at the hotel, Taehyung dragged Nico and Mingyu to the nearest cafe. He’s very much running on sheer willpower and the prospect of espresso shots in his veins.
He’s reading over his most recent interview he did for the GQ spread while they wait for their coffee. Of course, Taehyung’s already read it at least five times, but he always finds something new to admire, a new detail that catches his eye and really shows the depth of his intelligence. He smacks the magazine in front of Mingyu.
“I’m so smart and well-spoken. Look at this.”
Mingyu picks up his cookie, pushing away the magazine with his pinky. “You’ve made me read that three times. All you ever do in interviews is brag about yourself. They should interview me.”
“So you can brag about me, too? Aw, hyung.” Taehyung grins.
Mingyu should brag about him. He’s had an impeccable record this season, and it’s honestly because he has Taehyung.
Mingyu gives him a dead glare and argues, “No. And, in fact, if they asked me a question about you, I’d decline to comment.”
Taehyung pulls his magazine back with a shrug. “I guess that’s a nice fantasy to have…too bad you won’t be getting any interviews, so it’ll have to stay a fantasy. But, hey, maybe I’ll mention you next time.”
Nico takes a vicious bite of his croissant, clearly not pleased with Taehyung’s recognition either. Who needs enemies when he has friends like this? Nico says, “They always interview Taehyung because the girls love him. Next week, though, we’re playing Padova, so his spotlight might be a little stolen.”
Mingyu and Nico giggle over the comment like a bunch of high school girls. Taehyung’s back straightens as his body stiffens, and his neck gets hot. So much for staying in the present. He tries to push it away, that knot of old anxieties creeping up. It’s been catching up to him ever since he saw the schedule.
He tells himself It’s not because he’s seeing his ex-boyfriend Jeongguk. It’s because Jeongguk is a good player, someone he’s always admired, someone he’s promised himself he’d surpass. And that fucking setter. Taehyung absolutely can’t drop the ball and lose the game next week. As far as popularity goes, though, it’s a home game. Milan loves its players more than anything.
“Why would that have anything to do with my spotlight?” Taehyung scoffs, trying to play it cool.
Nico snorts. “The fucking Paris Hilton of volleyball is coming to Milan. And, if he’s Paris Hilton, you’re Nicole Richie.”
It’s true that the spotlight that’s been placed on Jeongguk has been somewhat of a double-edged sword. As much as he gets positive press, there’s always negativity to counter it. Jeongguk is really popular with the public. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that he’s brought in more interest in volleyball over the years. The die-hard volleyball fans feel a certain way about it, and his regular stalker accounts argue back, unless he’s caught up in some dating scandal. Love him or hate him, he’s always talked about.
It doesn’t help that Jeongguk does little to stop it. Although less of a veteran within these popularity circles, Taehyung wouldn’t say he’s entirely irrelevant in comparison. Locals like him, too. They love him back in the States. He’s talented, attractive, and people eat up his more mysterious image. That’s more courtesy of Seokjin, though. He promised to do very mean things to Taehyung if he ever spoke about something he shouldn’t.
Taehyung’s jaw drops in genuine offense. “That’s the most insulting thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Mingyu laughs dickishly, elbowing Taehyung who swats him away. “Yeah, Jeongguk has a lot of fans. Taehyung’s one of them. Are you gonna ask him to sign your shirt?”
“No. Shut up.”
It’s not like he’s shied away from praising Jeongguk. A good player is a good player. Mingyu met him back then, back when Taehyung was still trying to outpace the heartbreak. He knows who Jeongguk is to him. Now, with their reunion looming over his head, Taehyung worries that feeling will finally catch up to him again.
It’s strange. For years, he’s lived within a tightly sealed vacuum entirely void of Jeongguk. What if he sees him and feels differently? This happiness he’s worked so hard for, Taehyung doesn’t want it to be conditional. More than anything, he wants to walk on that court and look at Jeongguk as nothing more than an opponent he needs to beat. That’s something he can handle.
He rubs his chest where his heart beats wildly, trying to break some of that anxiety up. This is so stupid. He hasn’t felt like this in years.
After a while of Taehyung not saying anything, Nico picks the conversation back up. “We’re gonna block him so hard that he’s gonna cry the whole way home. If we beat him, then we’ll definitely get some interviews.”
“You’re right. Let’s beat Jeongguk so that I can get interviews,” Mingyu says, reaching over to fist-pump Nico.
Listening to them talk, an outsider would think they hate him. But, it’s nothing more than friendly competition. The two of them have been playing with Allianz for a while, and they’ve played against Jeongguk a handful of times. They’re all hitters, so it makes sense. Taehyung, on the other hand, wants to watch Matteo turn to ash and die. Italy beat them in the semis at last year’s VNL.
The tension between them has been palpable since then and everyone around them feels it. Two leaders of their teams, each with something to prove. Actually, this rivalry has probably been there since Jeongguk signed on with Padova. Jeongguk is Matteo’s now, so Taehyung doesn’t feel any way about that anymore. All he cares about is winning. To him, a hitter is only as good as their setter. Unfortunately for Taehyung, though, Matteo is one of the best. He does admire his passion, though. Only someone as good as Matteo can be that confident. Not that he’d ever admit that to him.
Taehyung says, “To me, Matteo’s Paris Hilton.”
Mingyu and Nico think it over, both grimacing like the thought is a strange one. Mingyu says, “He’s more like Paris Hilton’s chihuahua.”
Taehyung raises a brow. Is that how Mingyu sees him, too? Just an accessory while he steals the show with his flashy hits? Hitters are so insufferable.
Nico takes a sip of his coffee with a happy hum, apparently not worried at all for the game. “We got this one in the bag. They lost their last game, so we’ll kick them while they’re down.”
“Well, their defense is better than ours. So, maybe stop worrying about interviews and worry about how you’ll score against them.”
Mingyu gives him a strange look. “Are you nervous?”
“I would say I’m reasonably worried. I want to make it to finals, and they’re a strong team.”
Nervous isn’t how Taehyung would describe this feeling. Excitement? Perhaps, impatience. The thought of standing across from Jeongguk, facing him as an equal, no longer fills him with uncertainty. The thrill of competition buzzes beneath his skin. He wants to challenge Jeongguk, to push him to his limits, to show how far he’s come. More than anything, Taehyung wants to win. He wants to feel the exhilaration of besting the person he always admired.
Despite the anxiety, he grins to himself. He feels the fire stir in his chest, the same one that fueled him all the way to Italy, all those moments when he pushed past the pain, driven by the image of the very moment they met eyes through the net. Taehyung isn’t the same person he was when they first met. He isn’t the version of himself that always looked up to Jeongguk with wide-eyed awe. This time, he isn’t going to follow. This time, he’s going to win.
Mingyu snorts. “I thought you weren’t intimidated because they’re just any other team to you, but okay…” Yeah, Taehyung did say that, but he meant that they’re another team they need to beat. While Taehyung glares at him, Mingyu gives him another shit-eating grin, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Speaking of interviews, though. Did you see Jeongguk’s most recent interview?”
“Contrary to your belief, I don’t go seeking out his content.”
Taehyung turns his attention back to his cookie to show how little he really cares about this.
“Really? He said you guys are really close.”
Taehyung’s head snaps in Nico’s direction. His heart does that thing again where it kicks and stalls. Jesus Christ, he needs to meditate before going to sleep tonight.
Taehyung grimaces. “What?”
Mingyu already has it pulled up on his phone. They crowd around him, and Taehyung watches as Jeongguk comes into focus. The interview is in Italian, and although it’s impressive to see him speak so fluently, he has absolutely no idea what he’s saying. He makes Mingyu turn on the subtitles. It’s typical interview stuff, how the season is going, plans to tighten their offense, and then they ask about Taehyung.
“Your old teammate from college recently joined the league. Did you congratulate him?”
That’s a reasonable question. Probably. Taehyung’s never been asked about Jeongguk directly, but maybe this guy finds Jeongguk’s thoughts on this relevant for some reason. There’s a brief flicker of confusion on Jeongguk’s face, but he quickly masks it with an easy smile and replies.
“Not in as many words, but I’ll say it here. Congratulations, Taehyung! We’re excited to have you. I always- Um, Taehyung’s an extraordinary player, so it’ll be fun to play against him. When we were in college, we used to talk about how fun it would be to play against each other, and now we get to.”
On the screen, Jeongguk sucks his lip piercing into the corner of his mouth. Taehyung almost jumps through the screen trying to get a better look at it.
“You’re playing against each other next week. Have you talked about it? You guys aren’t strategizing in secret, right? I mean, Padova could use the win after your most recent loss.”
Jeongguk laughs, and it’s so exaggerated, Taehyung’s not sure how the interviewer doesn’t pick up on it. He’s obviously uncomfortable.
“No, no strategizing in secret. On the court, we’re rivals now.”
Taehyung nods along. That’s exactly it, Jeongguk gets it.
“And, off the court? Do you still keep in touch?”
“What kinda question is that?” Taehyung argues at the screen. Why would this matter?
“Yeah, sure. We talk all the time. We’re still close.”
An obvious lie, but the public doesn’t need to know that. Of course, they’re expected to get along. Camaraderie is what keeps volleyball alive. And, Jeongguk is definitely media trained. He wasn’t going to make it a whole thing. So, Taehyung won’t either. He doesn’t feel any way about it. Before Mingyu pulls his phone away, Taehyung looks at Jeongguk again, at his sweaty hair pushed back, how it makes way for his sharp eyebrows and another goddamn piercing. How he smiles and how his biceps bulge in the tight jersey. He never should’ve looked at the stupid Calvin Klein pictures.
Taehyung clears his throat, shrugs, and picks up his coffee again like it’s all totally whatever to him. “Well, he lied, but I mean, I would’ve said the same thing if someone asked me about him. If he said no it would’ve been a whole thing. People probably expect that we kept in touch because we were really close.”
“When’s the last time you guys spoke?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Taehyung snaps at Nico. He reels it in. “Like, three years ago.”
“You’re not going to go all soft on him when you see him and let him win, right?”
“Over my dead fucking body,” Taehyung says, and means it. “He’s probably going to do that for me, though. If they lose, Jeongguk’s going to think he played worse because he played against me. He’ll blame himself.”
That was a weird thing to say, and Taehyung doesn’t know why he said it. They’ll think nothing of it, maybe find it funny, but he knows the comment was ill-intended. It’s a vulnerable part of Jeongguk’s personality he has no reason to share with anyone. Or, maybe, it’s not that serious and Taehyung’s too in his head about this. God, this week needs to fly by so he can go back to not thinking about Jeongguk.
Mingyu asks, “And, that makes you happy, no?”
“I wouldn’t say happy, but it makes me smug.” Taehyung admits, finishing the last of his coffee before adding, “I like to win. As a player, you know, it’s a good feeling when people are intimidated by you.”
He likes the idea of him still affecting Jeongguk in some way. He must’ve well and truly lost his mind.
Mingyu says more to himself than anyone, “First season, and you’ve already got a big head about it.”
“You love my big head.”
Nico rolls his eyes, stands, and walks away to the bathroom. Taehyung shifts his attention back to Mingyu. He looks good today. He’s the kind of attractive that makes people stop and stare. There’s something magnetic about the way he carries himself. Mingyu is confident, but not overly arrogant, just enough to pique someone’s curiosity. He never has to put on a front. He looks exactly like who he is. It’s why he gets what he wants, why he’s surrounded by people, never alone, never looked down upon. Taehyung likes that about him. He likes it a lot.
Taehyung kicks his foot under the table so he’ll look at him. “You like my little one, too.”
Mingyu stares at him like he’s stupid. His mouth lifts into a smile just enough to hint at mischief, and it’s attractive, boyish and pretty. Taehyung wishes it did something to him.
Mingyu laughs. “That was so stupid.”
“Can I interest you in a dip in the jacuzzi in my room tonight?”
Their hotel rooms are crazy good this time around. They set him up with a nice little suite, with a cute jacuzzi by the balcony. Seems like a wasted opportunity not to use it. Besides, Taehyung could use some time out of his head, something more physical to fill his thoughts.
Mingyu balls up the napkin he’s holding, and shrugs. “Yeah, I got nothing better to do.”
Taehyung tuts. “And, you never will. I’ll always be the best thing you’ll ever do.”
“That was good. I’m stealing that.”
“For your other hookups?”
“Duh. I can be Paris Hilton, too. Maybe, I’m the Paris Hilton of Milan.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. Mingyu seems proud of that one, so he’ll let him have it.
“Sure. Does the Paris Hilton of Milan travel with condoms or do I need to go to the store?” he asks.
“I got you,” Mingyu replies with a cheesy grin.
Taehyung pulls out his phone to check the time. He has a massage scheduled back at the hotel soon, and it’s not the fun kind. Volleyball puts a lot of strain on his body, and his joints get the worst of it. Especially his knees and wrists. After back to back games, he tends to get weird spasms in his calves that quickly turn into vicious cramps. It hurts, but it comes with the job, so he’s not too worried about it.
Taehyung pockets his phone and stands. “Sounds good, hyung. I’m gonna go now. I have a massage in 15. Tell Nico I’ll catch him later.”
Unfortunately, the hotel is just around the corner, so Taehyung finds himself in one of the conference rooms the trainers have set up in way quicker than he’s mentally prepared for. He thinks they’re scraping his calves today. Knowing it’ll feel much better later does very little for him right now. It’s going to fucking hurt.
Taehyung has no more than a minute of peace as he takes his pants off and gets set up on the bed, his face shoved in the head hole, before he feels the blunt tip of the scraping tool behind his knee. It tickles and burns at the same time, a throbbing kind of pain he can feel in his fingertips. Every time the tool is pressed deeper into the muscle, the trainer tells him to relax, but Taehyung’s body does the opposite. If someone were to hit him with a hammer right now he’d probably break into a million pieces from how tense he is.
The tool presses directly into his calf, and it makes him sweat. This is the worst of it. If he can go five minutes without screaming, Taehyung makes a promise to himself: he’ll eat the cannoli he saw at the hotel bakery on his way in before the game instead of a protein yogurt. He rethinks that a second later, but instead of screaming, he thinks he might pass out. The only thing that keeps his consciousness from slipping is the sharp sound of his ringtone.
Taehyung slaps around for his phone and pulls it out, ungracefully sliding a finger over the screen without checking the contact. He spits out painfully, “Hello?”
Hoseok’s voice comes through the speaker. “Hey, Tae, just checking in. We finished packing and are gonna leave for the airport soon. You remember what time to pick us up, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll track your flight.”
He gets a split second of relief when the trainer switches to his other leg, but then he’s quickly back to suffering. Taehyung stuffs his face back into the hole in case he really cries. He doesn’t want his friends to see him at his worst. It’s been a while since they’ve hung out, and all the pieces fell together so everyone could come watch the game.
On the line, Yoongi mumbles something in broken Italian.
“Is Yoongi practicing Italian?” Taehyung asks.
“He’s…trying, I guess,” Hoseok laughs.
Taehyung lifts his head to look at his phone, realizing it’s a facetime call. Hoseok and Yoongi flit around their kitchen, the phone perched up on the island. Yoongi is cooking something, undoubtedly good. Taehyung misses his cooking. When they lived together, they used to have meatball Wednesdays to go along with wine Wednesdays.
Yoongi says from where he’s chopping up some vegetables, “I’m realizing my dreams of being a polyglot. I’m already trilingual, so I might as well go for a fourth. Italian’s a great option. Three of my best friends live in Italy. That’s like…most of my friends.”
“I don’t even speak Italian. Ask Jin to teach you,” Taehyung says over a wince.
“Yeah, he’s been helping me with the conversational stuff. Jeongguk’s been teaching me how to cuss.”
Hoseok nods along, offhandedly agreeing with Yoongi. “Jeongguk’s Italian is really good.”
The trainer finally finishes demolishing his calves. Taehyung lets out a deep sigh of relief, laying there a minute longer. “Did you guys call me to talk about Jeongguk’s Italian?”
Jeongguk might just be the last thing he wants to talk about. They don’t even talk about him, so he’s surprised they’re bringing him up so casually. Should he talk to them about it, though? Taehyung’s not sure how much he should let on now. He can’t act completely uncaring or rude about it with them, but he doesn’t want to make it a thing either. The breakup was messy, they don’t talk anymore, and it’s something that can’t be ignored, no matter how much Taehyung wants to.
Of course, it’s something he has been ignoring. Taehyung tells himself to keep moving, to pretend the Jeongguk shaped shadow isn’t there, but it pulses in the back of his mind, louder and louder, knowing it’ll eventually demand to be faced.
Hoseok says, “No, we called to make sure you were still picking us up from the airport. And, you know, just to see how you’re doing.”
“Yeah, any hot Italian lovers?” Yoongi chimes in.
Taehyung sits up on the bed as he considers how much to share. They ask him this all the time, and the answer is always no. He’s okay with being the single friend. His work occupies most of his time, and maybe it would affect him if he had a boring nine to five, but he may just have the most fun job in the world. He likes doing his own thing too much to ever put himself in a position where he needs to answer to someone. A boyfriend doesn’t sound bad, but it does sound like a lot of work. The men in his life are fleeting, and Taehyung doesn’t like it when they try to linger. On second thought, a boyfriend does sound kind of bad.
Taehyung scrunches his nose as he thinks about how to phrase this. He settles on, “I got a hot…friend.”
The details of his and Mingyu’s arrangement aren’t interesting, and Taehyung won’t bore them even if they ask. His friend group is too nosy for their own good. Still, he doesn’t want them thinking he’s a reborn virgin or something. He can be the single friend, but not the lame friend.
Yoongi pops his head on the screen. “A special friend?”
A part of him keeps Mingyu away from all of this because he knows exactly what they’ll say—that this is Jeongguk all over again. Another teammate, a hitter. Which, okay. He knows how it looks. To Taehyung, though, that’s just a coincidence. There’s no immediate pull like there was with Jeongguk, the admiration and attraction that turned to more. Mingyu genuinely is just a friend. Of course, he’s going to find guys within his profession. That’s not weird. Where else is he going to find someone with the same schedule as his?
“More like an accessible one,” Taehyung explains vaguely, “but he’s a good friend.”
Hoseok nods in sympathy. “That’s nice, I think. Yoongi’s worried you’re going to freak out when you see Jeongguk.”
Taehyung sets his phone down and starts pulling his pants back up. He glances in the mirror at his calves, a deep and angry red. That’s going to bruise like crazy tomorrow. He rolls his eyes even though they can’t see him. “Ah, so that’s why you called.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s been three years, and you have to play a very intense, and erotic game of volleyball against him.” Hoseok sounds truly concerned, like what he just said isn’t weird.
“Thanks,” Taehyung says to the trainer, one of the maybe sixteen words he knows in Italian. He walks out of the conference room and down to the elevator, bringing his phone up so he can look at the two. He snorts, “Erotic?”
“Don’t act like the way the two of you play volleyball isn’t erotic,” Yoongi supplies. With the speed at which he’s cutting those vegetables, they aren’t having dinner tonight. That gossip monger.
Taehyung presses the elevator button, offering an awkward smile to the guy that’s staring at his phone after hearing what Yoongi said. He brings his phone up closer to his mouth and says quietly, “Need I remind you that we’re playing against each other? It’s a good thing you guys are coming so that he’ll have someone to cry to when I crush him.”
The guy side eyes him as they both step in the elevator. It’s dead silent now, and they both press high floor numbers. Well, hopefully Yoongi doesn’t say anything weird during the short ride.
Of course, he does. “That’s what Jimin’s for. We’re there to stare at hot, Italian babes.” He leans over Hoseok’s shoulder so they're both in the frame, glancing down at him. “Am I allowed to say that?”
Taehyung knows Jimin is coming, of course. He doesn’t know the details of it, though. The last time they spoke, Jimin just vaguely mentioned having everything taken care of by Jeongguk. It’s what pushed Taehyung into action with getting Hoseok and Yoongi set up with tickets and accommodation. Yoongi’s working full-time as a teacher, but Hoseok is still working on his doctorate, and they just bought a house and have a wedding to plan. A trip to Italy isn’t something they should worry about.
Besides, Hoseok may be a nepo baby, but Taehyung can’t let Jeongguk upstage him.
Hoseok nods his head vigorously. “We’re engaged, not blind. I’m gonna be staring, too.” He chances a glance at Taehyung’s obviously displeased expression, tacking on sweetly, “And, of course, we’ll also be there to cheer on our best friend.”
“Which one?” Taehyung asks.
“I’m gonna cheer for whoever’s winning.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes. Yoongi is so predictable. “I’m paying for your tickets, so you have to cheer for me.”
He steps out of the elevator and walks down the hall to his room. With a swipe of his card, the door clicks open, and Taehyung side steps all the crap he left on the floor so he can throw himself on the bed. It’s not as soft as his bed back home, but it’ll do. He sticks his hands out in front of him so he can hold the phone and rests his chin on the mattress.
Yoongi shrugs. “Be a winner, then.”
Taehyung flips him off, and Hoseok intervenes by softly pushing Yoongi out of the frame.
“Shut up. Go practice your Italian over there.”
Yoongi grumbles something as he leaves, but Taehyung doesn’t catch it. He’s hoping now’s a good time to hang up because he wants to take a nap. He’s about to suggest it when Hoseok turns to him with a worried expression.
“Are you seriously okay? You can be honest with me, you know.”
Taehyung blinks dumbly at him. That’s a strange pivot, one he finds somewhat unnerving. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to talk about the Jeongguk of it all. It’s been weighing heavy on him, and Hoseok’s usually insightful about these things. If he speaks it into existence and out of his head maybe it’ll go away.
“I’m not nervous for the game, not in that sense. Like, seeing him there will be fine. I don’t know, it’s always been different on the court,” Taehyung explains easily. Then, less easily he admits, “But, after the game…It’s our first, big get together with everyone in years. I guess, I always thought I’d see him again, but it never happened, so I kinda forgot. We’re different people now. I don’t know what to expect.”
It’s stupid to say that he forgot about their inevitable reunion, but that’s genuinely how it’s been. Jeongguk damn near feels like a relic of some past life. It’s only been three years, but it may as well have been ten. To him, twenty-one and twenty-five seem like a lifetime apart now. Life looks much different for Taehyung than he imagined it would back then, but he loves it. He wakes up alone, he works, and he feels what this ambition has done to him now, how single-mindedly focused he is on his career. He likes this independence so much.
The pain that once felt so endless is distant, something that has long passed. Taehyung can recall the tears, but they no longer threaten to spill. There’s a space now between him and the heartbreak, a buffer of time and growth that softens the blow. What if he feels differently with Jeongguk in front of him, though? That’s what's scariest of all.
“Just signal me if you need help, and I’ll distract him,” Hoseok offers.
Taehyung shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. I think part of me is worried that we’ll just snap back into place, pick up where we left off. That things won’t be awkward at all, and it’ll be easy just like it always was. And, then part of me is worried that it won’t be like that at all, that he’ll have changed as much as I have, and he won’t be the person I remember. I’m worried I’ll lose all the progress I made trying to get over him.”
Because that’s what this anxiety is about, really. He doesn’t know any version of Jeongguk but the one he loved. What if he’s the exact same? What if he’s unrecognizable? Would that matter to him now? Though he’s changed, Taehyung remembers himself back then, so caught up in the love, struggling to understand how something so deep, so consuming could come to an end. He fought so hard to hold on even as it unraveled in his hands. There’s a tenderness in that remembering now, a compassion for his younger self that loved so deeply.
He was naive too, though. Although Jeongguk dealt the final blow, there’s more he could’ve done. He should’ve talked to him, listened to him, assured him. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, maybe not. There are regrets on his part, how withdrawn and accusing he’d been. It’s pointless to think about now anyway. Taehyung shakes the thoughts from his head and lays on his back, out of Hoseok’s view.
Hoseok asks softly, “Are you worried feelings will come back?”
He stares up at the ceiling, not sure how to reply to that. The immediate answer should be no. Taehyung knows he’ll always have some kind of feelings toward Jeongguk, good and bad. In a strange way, he’ll always love him. But the love that had once burned so brightly is nothing more than a flickering ember. He’s not in love with him anymore. Taehyung knows this. He’s far removed from that now.
He throws a glance at his sponsored gym bag, his name written in cursive on the side. Taehyung laughs a little to himself. Stranger things have happened, he supposes. He doesn’t entertain that thought for long, though. Falling in love with Jeongguk again? No, he won’t even let that idea marinate. That’s not possible.
Taehyung responds, “If they did, I’m not in position to entertain it, so it’d feel just like then.” Bad and lonely, but he doesn’t need to say it for Hoseok to understand. “But, then again, it’s not like one night will erase the three years of no contact. I feel like we’re stuck in time. We were so in love, and then it just stopped. We didn’t get the chance to fall out of love together. It wasn’t some sort of slow descent. It just ended. I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see him, and I don’t know how he’ll feel either. We’ve never been friends, so I guess I have to treat him like less than a friend, but that doesn’t feel right either.”
Really, he just wants the night to be comfortable for everyone. It’d be nice to see Jeongguk, to hear how he’s doing instead of making his own assumptions from article headlines. Even those he doesn’t read, so Taehyung’s really hitting a wall. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to treat him. Extreme friendliness might be overdoing it coming from both of them. He’s not feeling particularly friendly, but he’s not angry either. Neutral would be his guess, but then why is he stressing over this?
It’s weird, and uncomfortable, and Taehyung is almost eager for the day to come so it could end. He was perfectly fine with not seeing Jeongguk at all. It’d be okay if they were just playing the game, but their friends are putting too much importance on this dinner. He’d feel bad if they ruined it with their awkwardness.
“Is he dating anyone?” Taehyung asks at the same time the thought crosses his mind. Fuck, he doesn’t know why he asked that.
“You swore you’d never ask about him,” Hoseok says with a light laugh.
Taehyung said a lot of things regarding Jeongguk back when he was hurt and dramatic. He’s obviously a liar. “I also said I’d never see him again in my life, so help me out here. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just curious. I guess, I wanna know where we stand, and how I should act.”
If Jeongguk is dating, it’d be weird to bring up the past at all. Not that Taehyung was going to do that, but just in case it came up. If it came up by Taehyung not bringing it up. Maybe, Jeongguk will bring it up for some reason, but then again, why would he if he’s dating someone? That’d be a weird road to go down on, considering the ins and outs of their breakup. Seems a little too involved. Taehyung frowns. Now he’s thinking about offending Jeongguk’s hypothetical partner, cool.
“What does him dating someone have to do with that?”
“I guess nothing. I don’t know. I’ll just be more conscientious,” Taehyung sighs, accepting that he’s going to think himself in circles over this: Jeongguk’s dating life and how he should intonate his hi. Is hello better?
Hoseok taps his screen aggressively so Taehyung would look at him. When he does, he accuses, “Are you going to hit on him?”
Taehyung replies as flatly as possible, “No, I’m not going to hit on him. I’m asking because I don’t know anything about him, only the things I see about him online. Just answer the question, damn.”
“Well, if you’re seeing things about him online, you’ve probably seen all the paparazzi shots of his walks of shame. He’s not dating anyone, not as far as I know.”
Taehyung goes back to staring at the ceiling. “Okay, good.” That solves that issue.
Hoseok exclaims, “Good?”
What exactly is Hoseok fishing for here?
Taehyung picks his phone back up and holds it over his face, whining, “Stop setting me up. I’m just saying, like, good as a conclusion to the conversation. I’m satisfied with your answer, that’s all. Am I supposed to say that sucks? That I wish he was dating someone so, so bad? I don’t care if he’s dating someone. I was just asking.”
Hoseok gives him a knowing smile. “Sounds like you care.”
“I mean, I don’t care in concept,” Taehyung argues, “but maybe I’d care if he brought someone to the dinner.” Taehyung sits up and glares at the phone. “He wouldn’t do that, right? If he is, you have to let me know so that I can bring someone, too.”
If Jeongguk is bringing a date, Taehyung absolutely cannot show up alone. There has to be an unwritten, universal ex rule that says either both exes show up to places with dates or neither does so the other person doesn’t feel bad. Not that Taehyung would feel super bad but, well, he wouldn’t feel great. He knows himself, and he knows he’d feel some type of way about it. He’s not going to sit there and tell Jeongguk how happy he is for him when he’s alone. He can be loved up on his own time, not in front of Taehyung. Not the first time they see each other.
“He’ll probably bring Lucia.”
“Who the fuck is Lucia? You just said he’s not dating anyone!” Taehyung’s cheeks heat up as annoyance prickles his skin.
Hoseok scowls at him as if to tell him he’s overreacting. “Lucia’s his agent, dumbass. She’s his Jin. You’re bringing Jin.”
“Jin’s invited!” Taehyung argues. “Is she pretty?”
Hoseok seriously thinks about this for a moment. Taehyung might throw up. He finally says, “Jin’s prettier.”
“Is she prettier than me?” Taehyung clarifies, rolling his eyes.
Hoseok holds up his hands in defense. He says, “No? She’s cute, and nice, and not a threat to…you potentially hitting on Jeongguk depending on how you’re feeling at the moment? This is a weird conversation.”
Taehyung stands up to dig through the wine selection, leaving his phone behind. He pours himself a full glass of white wine, downs it, then pours some more. He walks back to the bed and snatches his phone, reasoning with himself more than Hoseok.
“I’m not hitting on him. I’m serious. I do not want to date Jeongguk again. Ever. He did me dirty the first time, and I don’t have any interest in rehashing that. It’s just, you know, typical ex-boyfriend jealousy. I’m entitled to that. And, my ex-boyfriend’s a public figure who sleeps with everyone, apparently, so maybe I’m coping with it differently than other ex-boyfriends would. Who cares?”
Taehyung stares at Hoseok’s blank stare, shrugging and taking more sips of his wine. He thinks what he said is reasonable. He’s big enough to admit that Jeongguk sleeping with other people bothers him somewhat. He doesn’t know why, it just does. It has nothing to do with romance or feelings. He thinks it’s just curiosity because he’s so outside of it all. How does Jeongguk choose who to go home with? Does he go back for more? Does he talk them through it like he would with him? Does he tell them how good they look when he does something they like?
Taehyung’s eyes widen, and he directs his glare at Hoseok as if he personally put that thought into his head. He must be fucking crazy to be remembering how good of a fuck Jeongguk is. Taehyung throws his phone back on the bed and picks at his fingernails. Does he do it how he likes it—wet and messy—or does he let his hookups take the lead? Absolutely not.
Hoseok laughs, loud and obnoxious. “So, you’re jealous? Because you care.”
Taehyung doesn’t know what he is and isn’t at this point. He’s dug himself into a hole he can’t talk himself out of. He probably is jealous because he cares, in some small and insignificant way. But then he also maybe doesn’t because he doesn’t know him. If he takes away the emotional aspect of it, seeing Jeongguk with his eyes rather than his heart are two separate things entirely. He’s hot—even hotter now. He’s always been Taehyung’s type, always nice to look at. Really nice.
If he were more hurt, maybe it’d sicken him to even look at him, but now Taehyung is worried it might be the opposite. What if he’s too nice? Worse, what if he does hit on him because he doesn’t know how else to talk to him? He definitely won’t act on it; that’s insane, and who’s to say that Jeongguk would want that? But, he cannot be sure that his mind won’t go there when he sees him. The thought of that makes him feel horrible and ashamed.
“You’re making me feel bad. I’m just curious,” Taehyung complains, hoping to gain some of Hoseok’s sympathy.
Hoseok doesn’t look sympathetic, but his grin is friendly. “Uh-huh. Well, I guess you can ask him all about this yourself on Friday.”
“I don’t want to talk to him. I just wanna know things about him, and that’s why I’m asking you.” They’re going in circles now. He feels like what he’s saying is obvious.
Hoseok twiddles his thumbs. Taehyung narrows his eyes as he watches him mull it over, how he plasters on a plastic smile. He wants to say something and he doesn’t think Taehyung’s going to like it.
“It’d be nice if you guys could, I don’t know, be friends or be re-acquainted,” Hoseok says. He pauses to see if Taehyung has anything to say to that, but he stays silent and lets him speak more.
“A lot of time has passed, and everyone is close. In a way, you’ll always be in each other's lives. I’m not saying you have to be best friends, and believe me, I understand why you’d never want to speak to him again. But, you’ve rebuilt yourself, and I think you’re strong enough to face it now. Besides, you’re in the same league. Like, you guys have the same job. You’re probably going to be seeing a lot of him. I think this could be an opportunity for you to really put everything to bed and restart.”
While Hoseok rants, Taehyung pulls up his messages and texts Mingyu, asking when he plans on coming over. He catches most of what Hoseok is saying, he really does, he just doesn’t care too much to entertain it. Everyone being close doesn’t pertain to him in any way. Him and Jeongguk just aren’t there and may never be again. The idea of complete forgiveness feels like surrender, like letting Jeongguk off the hook too easily for something that left Taehyung feeling fractured.
Greeting each other during games and dinner with friends is fine. Taehyung’s more than happy to play nice when they see each other. He has no interest in being Jeongguk’s friend long term. Maybe it’s for old Taehyung’s sake, or a petty grudge he’s holding, but he has no intention of rehashing the past. Yes, he’s rebuilt himself, he’s stronger now, but they don’t know the pain of starting from zero, how hard it was to find joy in his own company.
“Did he tell you to tell me that?” Taehyung asks absentmindedly, staring at Mingyu’s text bubble appearing and disappearing.
Hoseok snorts. “Shockingly, he talks about you less than you talk about him, and you don’t talk about him at all, so…make of that what you will.”
“How can he talk about me less?”
“Well, you can at least handle us bringing him up in conversation. He cannot do that if you’re brought up.”
Taehyung drops his phone, suddenly more invested in the conversation. “Really? Tell me more.”
“You haven’t wanted to talk about him in three years, and now you want to know everything?” Hoseok laughs. With a shake of his head, he picks his pen back up and goes back to marking down his book. Poor guy.
Taehyung pushes himself off the bed so he can pour more wine. He speaks louder so Hoseok can hear him, “You cannot let me embarrass myself. He needs to think I’m cool, and suave, and cold.”
If all goes well, Jeongguk will be left at least a little intimidated by their meeting. Taehyung absolutely needs to upsell how good life is looking for him now. An air of nonchalance around his success, arrogance that’s a given for someone like him. Perhaps, something to be desired. Happiness so potent Jeongguk wishes life looked the same for him. Yeah, that’s good. Taehyung hopes he remembers all of this when the time comes.
Hoseok says, “You are all those things. You asking for all the intricacies of how he doesn’t talk about you, though, is not very suave. It’s kinda…lame. I think the best way for you to make it through is to just drink. Tell him it was a good game, and then just talk to Yoongi about fashion week or something, and don’t speak to him again. If you don’t think you can handle it or be normal, then just don’t handle it and get trashed with us instead, your besties.”
Taehyung swirls the wine in his glass as he ponders. He ignores the jab. “Yeah, that’s a good plan. I’m happy you called.”
He walks back to his bed to grab his phone. He should let Hoseok go so he can finish his work before the flight. He swipes out of facetime to check what Mingyu replied, immediately annoyed when he sees it’s just a thumbs up.
“It’s funny. I haven’t seen you like this in a while. I’m happy I called, too. I feel like you’re always so serious now. I forget how young you are.”
“You’re, like, one year older than me. Don’t think you’re better than me because you got a doctorate,” Taehyung argues.
It’s true that he’s a bit more serious now, but it’s mostly because he’s trying to uphold a certain public image. Taehyung doesn’t think he’s all that different in private.
Hoseok points his pen at him. “Almost have a doctorate. Pretty soon instead of calling me hyung, you can call me doctor.”
Mingyu texts him that he’s on his way, so Taehyung wraps up his call. “I never call you hyung, but noted. Anyway, I’m gonna go have sex now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Think about what I said. Bye!”
The line disconnects. He will not be thinking about what Hoseok said. Well, maybe about the part where he implied Jeongguk is too bothered to even talk about him. That’s new, something he doesn’t get to see in the media. Taehyung feels a little strange about that. There are memories he chose to bend, words he’s tried to dilute or conceal, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t forget them.
I don’t regret loving you. I always will.
Taehyung sits by the window, his fingers absently tracing the condensation on the wine glass, lost in thought as the city outside blurs into streaks of light. He wonders if Jeongguk truly has moved on, if his love has gone cold. He sighs, his breath fogging the window for a moment before it clears again. He hopes Jeongguk doesn’t think of him anymore.
It’s selfish, he knows. But the thought of Jeongguk still carrying the weight, of still holding onto a love that Taehyung can’t return, makes him feel trapped. Well, he’ll never know. He won’t ask. Will he be able to tell anyway?
Taehyung stands to rummage through his gym bag. He pulls out the clean pair of socks that he keeps in his shoes, digging a hand into each one until he finds what he’s looking for. His fingers brush over the lump of chain in the sock. Taehyung pinches it between his fingers so the necklace will unravel. Before he can pull it out completely, there’s a knock at the door.
Taehyung shoves the sock back into his bag, zipping it and kicking it to the side. He sets his wine glass on the table, pulling his hoodie over his head as he walks to the door. He won’t think about this anymore.
☾ ⋆*.
Jeongguk is startled awake by the fog horn ringtone blaring from his phone. His eyes flash open as his heartbeat quickens until he remembers who the ringtone is for. It’s just Lucia. She threatened death upon him if he ever silenced her, so she’s never muted, but she never said anything about ignoring her. He scratches his balls and rolls onto his side once the call drops.
After about twenty seconds of rest, the sound kicks up again. This time it somehow seems louder. He covers his ears with the pillow and tries to fall back asleep, but it won’t stop. The call drops, and she calls. It drops again, and she calls. Can he have one, peaceful morning?
“Can you turn off your phone?” The girl next to him asks, her voice tired but still snappy. Jeongguk thinks her name was Mariana, or maybe Maria.
“Sometimes I wanna sleep in, too,” Jeongguk complains, although the pillow muffles his words.
She pulls the pillow away from him. “If you don’t turn it off, no one’s sleeping in.”
Mariana—or Maria—hugs the pillow to her chest as she falls back asleep. Well, that’s about as clear of a cue to leave as any other. Jeongguk sits up, and his head pounds. He went partying last night for his and Matteo’s joint birthday party and ended up in this girl’s bed. He remembers having a good time at the time, but now his mouth tastes like something died in it, and the satisfaction of sex has long since left him. All that’s left is a vague sadness and a desire to shower.
The phone rings again, and Jeongguk picks up this time.
“Stop calling me,” he says sternly, in Italian. Him and Lucia always speak in Italian. It was something that initially frustrated him, but Lucia insisted it’ll make him learn faster, and it did. It’s like second nature to him now.
After hanging up, he rolls out of the bed with little grace, smacking his shin against a bed post. His lips press together as he withholds all the curses he wants to yell at the sudden pain, a radiating, sharp ache in his bone. Carefully, he stands up and pulls on his clothes from last night.
“I’m headed out,” he tells the girl.
“Okay, bye.”
Jeongguk walks out of her room without a second glance at her. He rinses his mouth out in her kitchen sink, puts on his shoes, and leaves. Not three steps out of the front door does he stop in his tracks when he finds Lucia standing on the sidewalk, glaring at her phone as she scrolls on it. Nope. Jeongguk turns around to walk back inside. Once his back is turned, though, Lucia stomps over and grips the back of his hoodie and begins pulling him to the car.
“Stop calling you?” She asks. Fuck, he’s in so much trouble.
Jeongguk breaks away from her and turns to face her. He offers lamely, “It’s my birthday.”
“Your birthday was last week.” Lucia gives him a look that’s dryer than her tone.
“How’d you find me? I know I turned my location off. Your answer better be good or else I’m reporting you to the police,” Jeongguk says. He pulls up the dialer on his phone to let her know he’s serious.
Lucia doesn’t react, her face still bored and judging. “Hm, I don’t know, it was pretty easy. I got the address from these pretty clear pictures of you fucking walking into this house.” She holds up her own phone to show a picture of him definitely walking into this house last night.
“Shit,” Jeongguk mutters. He pulls his hoodie over his head. “Are there paparazzi here?”
“A few,” she sighs. “But, I already bribed them into going away. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks.”
“What the fuck are you wearing? You look stupid in these pictures,” she says as her lips twist in disgust.
“A hoodie and jeans don’t do it for you?” He asks. She hates it when people get pictures of him, and he’s not wearing sponsored clothing. If he were wearing Calvin Klein last night, she might’ve been happy with him.
She rolls her eyes and pushes him toward her minivan. “Shut up and get in the car.”
“Okay, can you get me waffles, though?” Jeongguk asks as he pulls the door open and climbs in.
She doesn’t answer until she’s in the car and has buckled her seat belt. She turns the key and says, “I don’t really want to.”
“Please, Lucia. I’m so hungover, and sad, and grateful to you, and I need a Belgian waffle in my mouth,” Jeongguk whines as he fiddles with the air controls, turning the AC on max and blasting it all at his face.
Lucia’s nose wrinkles. “You need mouthwash in your mouth.”
She turns down the AC, and he doesn’t fight her on it.
“Hey, I rinsed my mouth out in the sink. I did what I could,” he tries to defend himself. To be safe, Jeongguk does a breath test and breathes into his palm. It’s not good. “Gimme some gum. I know you have some.”
“There’s some in the center console. Get it yourself.”
Jeongguk roots in her center console. It’s mostly napkins, tissues, and a few too many lighters, but he finds a nearly-finished pack of gum. He pops a stick in his mouth and shoves the wrapper into his pocket to throw out later. His instinct is to throw the bundled wrapper into the console, but Lucia might actually kill him if he did that.
“What are we doing today? I forgot.” He knows something was planned for today, but he doesn’t have the energy to scour his mind for the details or to pull up the calendar on his phone. As Lucia maintains his calendar, she knows it all off the top of her head.
“Physical therapy. Your appointment is in twenty minutes,” she answers.
“Oh. Right.” Jeongguk tries not to sound bummed out, but he fails. Physical therapy may be the last thing he wants to do hungover. “Waffles after, then?”
“I’ll grab some before I pick you up.”
Jeongguk does a mini fist pump, and he catches her side-eyeing him and smiling slightly at the sight. Only slightly, though. Lucia never smiles with her teeth. If Jeongguk ignores the fact that she’s a total grouch, he believes he has the best sports agent in the world.
They drive another ten minutes before she parks in front of the Padova volleyball gym. With a grimace, she turns to him and starts fussing with his hair, tutting as she tugs at the strands and tries smoothing them down. Pleased, she gives him one nod and pulls away to dig around in her purse.
“You smell insane.” Lucia pulls a bottle of perfume out of her purse and sprays him down with it, a strong floral scent. He holds his breath until she’s done, and then she fixes one last piece of his hair. “Why are you sad? You said you were sad.”
Jeongguk exhales heavily. What a loaded question. He answers as truthfully as he can manage, “I’m always sad after meaningless hook-ups. Isn’t everyone?”
“Not really. I think they usually have the opposite effect.”
“Huh, interesting. I’ll think about that,” Jeongguk says, trying to mimic her dry delivery to not let on to his feelings.
He can feel it, though, the hole that sits in his chest. The feeling that was briefly sated last night, but now that the sun has risen and her name’s been forgotten, the hole feels deeper than ever. It’s always like this. He doesn’t hook up with people regularly because of it, for fear of how lonely he’ll find himself the following morning. Sometimes, though, he gets drunk, someone finds him appealing enough to take home, and he gives into it in the same way he would scratch a bug bite. Briefly satisfying, but worse than if he’d never touched it at all.
He files these thoughts and feelings away for him to bring up to his therapist later. It’s too early in the morning for him to spiral. Jeongguk opens the car door to get out, but Lucia grabs his hoodie again.
“Did you read Tony’s email?” she asks.
“No.”
“Well, read it.”
She drops his hoodie, and he steps out of the car. Before closing it, he says, “Later, Lucia.”
Jeongguk walks into the building, runs back to the athletic training office, and lets them poke at him while he sits and thinks. Of course, Jeongguk read the email. In fact, he’s been sitting on it for days now, thinking it over and over while also desperately trying to push it from his mind. The USA national team wants to recruit him. There’s no way that he’d miss that email. It’s like this every season: team USA reaches out, and he turns them down. This time feels different.
It’s not easy for him to just say yes, though. This is something he has to consider. The reason his shoulder hasn’t worsened is likely because he’s able to totally rest it during the summer months, but if he joins the national team, he won’t be able to rest it at all. Jeongguk doesn’t have the liberty of throwing caution to the wind. His training staff is phenomenal, though, and his shoulder hasn’t deteriorated since he joined Padova; it also hasn’t gotten better. He’s monitored closely enough that it’s okay, good enough for now.
Jeongguk asks them about the status of his shoulder, and they put in an order for an MRI. He wants to throw up at the thought of it, but he has to know his condition before he joins the national team, before he even considers it.
There’s also the matter of what waits for him in America. Who waits for him. Of course, he isn’t waiting for him; Jeongguk isn’t delusional enough to think that. He’s never grown out of longing for him, though. If Jeongguk joins the national team, he’ll be there. Always, not in a passing way, not in a way in which they can both pretend they’ve never met, or spoken, or loved. They’ll work together, and live together, but they won’t be together.
They’re stretching out his shoulder, but it’s his heart that feels the strain. Never again. That’s what Taehyung had said, and Jeongguk lived by that. Although he kept tabs on his socials and watched his interviews, Jeongguk didn’t ask about him; he didn’t reach out, or call, or wish on stars. And, the sadness burrowed, deeper and deeper until he grew used to the feeling of loneliness.
It never got better. That’s something he hasn’t even admitted to his therapist. It’s embarrassing how even now he clings to those memories, just like he knew he would. How all these years later he thinks of how Taehyung looked on that snowy day in Boston, drunk and loved and fleeting. They weren’t supposed to see each other again, so Jeongguk learned how to be appeased by mirages of him. Jeongguk doesn’t know how he’s meant to face him.
He’ll have the opportunity to find out tomorrow, he supposes, whether never was a promise or something said in the moment. Tomorrow, when their friend group meets in Milan, and he plays against Taehyung, he wonders if he’ll be able to look him in the eyes. Even now, he feels exposed, as if wind is constantly blowing past the burrowed sorrow within him, howling and knowing. What will Taehyung think of him? Will he feel it, too?
The trainer pulls his arm a little too hard, and the pain is enough to drag Jeongguk away from the spiral. He throws himself into the exercise, and wills himself to let it go. After his appointment, he finds Lucia parked outside. He opens the car door and finds a to-go box of waffles in his seat. He opens the box: two fluffy waffles drenched in nutella sauce, a heaping scoop of sugared strawberries and bananas, and a dollop of whip cream.
Taehyung loved strawberries. With a sigh, Jeongguk climbs into the car, buckles up, and begins tearing into the waffles with the fork he takes from Lucia’s outstretched hand.
“I can’t even eat these. I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Jeongguk complains as he takes a big bite.
“Are you just saying that so I’ll ask you what’s wrong?” Lucia asks as she pulls out of the parking spot.
“Yes, and I’m so glad you asked.”
“I didn’t-”
“I’m gonna eat these in the car if that’s cool,” Jeongguk says, taking another bite of the already half-eaten waffles on his lap. “So you just keep your eyes on the road and listen. Tomorrow is a big day for me.”
Lucia rolls her eyes, which from her is a loving gesture. She asks, “Because of Taehyung?”
Jeongguk swallows heavily. “Well…yes. I know you may find this hard to believe, but I do think he hates me.”
“I’ve heard things that are harder to believe,” Lucia says with a snort.
“Can you be nice to me for, like, two seconds?” Jeongguk asks as unbitingly as he can. Usually, he’s okay with being the butt of the joke. If he were talking about anything else, he’d laugh with her.
“Okay, I can tell you’re serious about this. Sorry.” She offers him an apologetic smile. “I’ll be nice. You can talk to me.”
“Thanks.” He takes another bite of the waffles. He’ll need the serotonin they give him to get through talking about this. “Anyway, I feel like I’m getting in my head about the game, like I’m going to fuck up by virtue of being on the same court as him. And, then we’re going out with friends after the game. Do I try to talk to him? What if he tries to talk to me? What do you say to someone you broke up with three years ago and maybe still, kinda, in a small and insignificant way hold feelings for, sorta?”
He takes another bite and another while he waits for Lucia to respond. She’s taking her time thinking it over. That’s good, maybe she’ll say something helpful.
“You leave him alone. Hang out with your friends, and then go back to your hookups,” is Lucia’s answer.
Jeongguk gawks at her. That wasn’t fucking helpful at all. Maybe, he should’ve asked Hoseok about this instead. He always has good advice.
“You want that for me? That’s so depressing,” Jeongguk whines. He takes the final bite of his waffle, closes the box, and sinks down into his seat.
Lucia frowns and nods in consideration. “Okay, maybe not. But, didn’t you talk to your therapist about this?”
“There isn’t a therapist on earth that could deal with my Taehyung issues,” Jeongguk grumbles.
His therapist has helped him with countless things, the anger and the inferiority, his tendency to never say the right thing, his relentless need to overexert himself, prove himself. They’ve never spoken about love, or the lack of it. Jeongguk’s thought about that from time to time, why he never brings it up. Perhaps, he doesn’t want the wound to heal over yet. If it’s still bleeding, he has reason to linger with it. He never was good at grieving.
“I mean, it’s been three years, Jeongguk, and you haven’t moved on. That’s why you’re stuck with all the meaningless hookups,” Lucia says. “My advice? Get closure. Talk to him if you have to, and maybe he’ll punch you, but at least you tried. Just do what you have to do to end it within yourself.”
“But, I don’t want to move on.” It’s something he hasn’t admitted before, not to anyone else at least.
“That’s weird,” Lucia says with a wrinkle of her nose. Yeah, she probably wasn’t the best person to dump that on. “You want not to be loved by someone you love?”
“I just…I don’t know. I can’t explain it,” Jeongguk says quietly. He never thought of it that way before, but yeah, he thinks he’d be okay with that. However Taehyung wants to feel about him is fine. Jeongguk can live with it so long as he can continue loving him. He won’t say that to Lucia, though, so he attempts to appease her instead. “Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe, I’ll meet him, and I won’t love him anymore because maybe he sucks, like he’ll be mean but not in a way that I like.”
“In a way that you like?”
“Yeah, like when he would make sex conditional, or like when he would yell at me on the court and call me names.” Jeongguk sighs dreamily, and Lucia fakes a gag. With a laugh, he continues, “He can’t even call me names on the court now because he’ll get a red card. Probably for the best because that’d do things to me.”
“Wait, is that what this is all about? You want to sleep with him?” She looks at him like he’s stupid. He probably is.
Jeongguk doesn’t answer her question, and instead asks some of his own, “What if I see him and fall in love all over again? What if it feels like he was never gone, like I never left?”
“I don’t think it works like that. You have seen him, online and on TV. You know what he looks like, and sounds like, and the things he says. You don’t have to make it a thing. You’re just nervous, that’s all,” she says. She tries to give him what he thinks is meant to be an assuring smile. Jeongguk’s too in his head for anything to assure him at this point, but he appreciates her for trying.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, and he drops the subject.
Jeongguk turns up the radio and kicks his feet up on the dash, ignoring her protests. He doesn’t actually think Lucia’s right, but she wouldn’t get it. She wasn’t there, not how he was. Perhaps if he spoke with his therapist, he’d have words for this feeling that sits with him, so constant and unending. Sorrow, depression, loneliness, longing. Perhaps one of those would work, but it wouldn’t do it justice. Speaking them won’t make her understand how his gut wrenches while his heart soars at the thought of Taehyung.
They won’t make her know what he knows. Taehyung doesn’t love him anymore, but Jeongguk still loves him. Tomorrow, one way or another, it’ll all come to a head. They’ll see all the ways the other changed, not just on a screen or through a written interview, but how they speak, look, move. They can’t touch how they used to, and Jeongguk can’t say what he wants to say like he used to. Jeongguk could deal with the change because he hasn’t followed through, because he clung to the past and convinced himself he was still in the process of metamorphosis. Changing, not yet changed. Tomorrow, it all becomes real.
No, she wouldn’t get it. He can’t expect her to.
Lucia drops him off at home, and he makes his way into his apartment building. It’s a newer build, and it sticks out like a sore thumb from the historic buildings surrounding it. Jeongguk greets the doorman and slowly makes his way to the elevator, keying in the special code for the top floor. Once he reaches his floor, he has to input his door code three times before it opens. He’s too hungover to deal with this bullshit.
When he steps inside, his motion-sensor blinds go off and begin opening. Immediately, he’s blinded, and he holds his hands up to his eyes to block out the light.
“Alexa, close the blinds,” he says. The blinds close. Fuck, he hates this apartment.
He takes it in now, how depressing and sterile it is. It’s a smart home, so everything is electronic and voice-activated. At first, it was cool, but now he finds it bleak. The apartment came pre-furnished, and he never bothered to decorate past that point. When people come over and ask, he tells them it’s because he’s not home enough to give a shit. Really, he’s failed to grasp the concept of home at all. Nothing has felt like home in a while.
So, he puts up with the white decor, the marble countertops, the clean walls, and matched pieces. He’s gotten used to being without color, especially here where he can fall apart as much as he wants. He stalks to the kitchen and grabs a banana out of the fruit bowl. A September towel hangs on the oven handle, and he smiles a little as he looks at it. Well, he’s not entirely without color.
Jeongguk finishes the banana and gets in the shower, desperate to clean last night off of him.
—
After a nap and a protein shake, Jeongguk takes the elevator down to the parking garage. He may not care about his apartment, but he loves his car. It’s the first thing he bought for himself after coming here, and he still feels giddy just opening the doors and knowing that it’s his. A matte-brown Maserati Grecale with a full leather interior. The first time Jimin saw it, he said it reminded him of a Tootsie Roll. Jeongguk has not been able to unsee the comparison, but he finds it charming.
He pulls out of the parking garage, blasting the Blue Oyster Cult on his speakers with his sun roof open until he stops at a red light and feels embarrassed that other people can potentially hear his music and turns it down. The airport isn’t far, and he’s surprised when he easily finds a parking spot. Before heading inside, Jeongguk puts on his incognito disguise: an oversized hoodie, a ballcap, and big sunglasses.
It’s not as if everyone in Italy knows who he is, but airports are busy, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. More often than not, he’ll be recognized when he goes out, and he’d rather not deal with the paparazzi and stalker circus today. Jeongguk makes it inside with no incident and sits down on a bench in arrivals, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok as he waits, looking up periodically to check for Jimin.
After ten minutes, he spots him, weighed down with a large suitcase, a smaller suitcase, a blanket, and a laptop bag. His hair is still blonde, and it maybe always will be. It, like all things, makes Jeongguk think of Taehyung. He went back to black hair when he came to Italy; Jeongguk saw it on Instagram a couple months ago. Tomorrow, he’ll see it in a person, the person Taehyung’s become. A person without ridiculous hair he could spot from a mile away.
Jeongguk shakes the thoughts from his mind as best he can and attempts to wave Jimin down. He yells, “Jimin, hey!”
Jimin snaps his head in his direction, and his mouth forms into a massive grin. He runs over to Jeongguk with his suitcases and laptop bag clanging around him.
“Two suitcases? You’re only here for a week,” Jeongguk laughs.
“And I’m going to serve looks and face the whole time. Take one of them, please.” Jimin lets go of the largest suitcase and begins walking away from it without waiting for Jeongguk’s agreement.
Jeongguk takes it with a smile. It’s good to have him here. He catches up to Jimin and leads him out to his car. They carefully load his trunk and begin making their way back to Jeongguk’s apartment. Jeongguk prepared the guest room for him a week ago, too excited about him coming to wait any longer.
“After this, we have to get alcohol in me immediately. I’ve been studying for a year straight, and I’m so excited to have a break,” Jimin says as he looks out of the window and at the city, the winding river and the historic buildings.
“Did you pass?” Jeongguk asks.
Jimin took his bar exam in July after graduating law school in May. Jeongguk unfortunately could not be at the graduation because he was playing in the finals, but his mom FaceTimed him in. Jimin graduated with honors, and Jeongguk has never seen him happier than when he crossed that stage and accepted his diploma.
Jimin rubs his eyes with his fingers and sighs. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’ll get my results when I get them. For now, I’m going to live a happy and free life. Just point me to the best wine bar, and we can live like we’re 21 again.” Jimin turns away from the window with a sudden smile. He smacks Jeongguk’s arm excitedly. “Oh, and speaking of, I got you a birthday gift. I’ll give it to you later.”
“How much later?”
“At dinner. We have a lot to talk about at dinner,” Jimin says, clearly hinting at something. If it’s surprise news, Jeongguk can guess what it is. The little bastard is engaged. After wiggling his brows a couple times, Jimin continues, “Until then, I prepared an itinerary for the rest of the day.”
Jeongguk snorts. “You prepared an itinerary for the place I live in?”
“Why not? Google’s free, and I knew you wouldn’t plan anything. If it were up to you, we’d sit at home watching Oceans 11.” Jimin says it like it’s a bad thing, but that sounds like a nice day to Jeongguk.
“How do you have enough energy to even move through an itinerary? Didn’t you just fly across the world?”
“No, someone else flew me. I got a first-class ticket and slept the whole way.”
Jeongguk won’t argue with him, mostly because he’ll definitely lose. Instead, he changes the subject. “What do we have to talk about at dinner? Can you just tell me now?”
“All good things. I want to save it for later. It feels like nighttime news.” Jimin wiggles his brows again. He’s too conspicuous for his own good.
“Sure.”
Jeongguk’s almost certain that Jimin and Namjoon are engaged, but he won’t force it out of him. They drop his car off with the valet but are left to carry the bags up on their own. At least the elevator in his building works. Jeongguk leads him upstairs and into his apartment. The fucking blinds open again. Thankfully, the sun has risen enough that they aren’t blinded, but he’s still annoyed.
“Alexa, close the living room blinds,” he says. It’s become the first thing he says when he gets home, sometimes the only thing he says.
“If Big Mac were here, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. She’d just bite them off,” Jimin jokes as he follows Jeongguk to the guest room.
“I don’t even want to think about that. Those blinds cost probably a month of my salary. They were just there. They came with the place like…walls or doors. Fucking smart blinds. You can’t buy those in BestBuy.” Jeongguk opens the door to the room and points down the hallway. “Bathroom is through that door. The shower has a thermostat and a whole host of controls. It’s kinda hard to use at first, so let me know when you want to use it, and I’ll help you out.”
“Seems like everything in here is smart,” Jimin remarks. He looks at the walls by the door to his room, probably searching for a light switch.
“Yeah, I call it my iHome,” Jeongguk says. He laughs as Jimin moves the door to see if the lightswitch is behind it. “Alexa, turn on the guest room light.”
Jimin doesn’t seem impressed as the overhead light comes on. “Well, I’d say I’d like what you did with the place, but it’s pretty boring. Also, what’re you wearing?”
“It’s jeans and a hoodie! Why’s everyone blown away by this today?” Jeongguk bemoans. “It’s my incognito look, okay. It’s why we weren’t mobbed at the airport.”
Jimin only blinks at him. “Why would we be mobbed?”
“Because I’m a celebrity?”
“A micro-celebrity, maybe,” he mumbles as he leaves the room and collapses on the living-room couch. He winces once he realizes that the couch isn’t comfortable.
Jeongguk has considered that before, that his celebrity status isn’t as great as he thinks it is. But, he’s regularly on the cover of Italian magazines. His name has trended several times on Italian twitter, and for the last year he hasn’t been able to leave the house without being recognized by somebody. Plus, he really has been mobbed before. It’s getting to the point where he can’t always go to certain places or do the things he wants to do.
“You’ll see, and you’ll eat those words. I might be a micro-celebrity in America, but it’s different here,” Jeongguk responds. He’s sure they’ll be stopped today at some point. “What’s first on the itinerary?”
“You change your outfit while I text the other guys and tell them I’m here. I wanna see if they landed. Oh, fuck, I also gotta call Namjoon, so take your time getting ready. Accessorize or something.” Jimin waves him off.
“Okay.” Jeongguk walks to his own room, but pokes his head back out the door to call out to Jimin, “Don’t do anything weird on my couch!”
“No promises!”
Jeongguk closes his door and sits on his bed, unable to think about anyone other than Taehyung now that he’s alone. It’s in part because he’s been stressing over their inevitable meeting, and in part because Jimin reminds him of it, now. Their lives were so intertwined that now his whole life serves as a reminder, his life back home at least. Now that Taehyung is in Italy, there really is no escaping him.
Does Taehyung see him, too? Does he see the magazine covers, the interviews? Does he care? Does he look at him in the same way? Probably not, but Jeongguk can’t get the thought out of his mind. He should look good today, just in case paparazzi snap a photo of him and Taehyung sees it. When he opens his closet door, he realizes how stupid it is that he’s thinking like this. It shouldn’t matter if Taehyung sees him. He needs this week to end so that he can go back to normal: depressed, unchanging, sad normal.
He can hear Lucia’s voice in his mind telling him to wear sponsored clothing, and he might as well listen this time. If he takes her advice, he doesn’t have to go back and forth with himself on the Taehyung thing. So, he throws on Calvin Klein from head to toe: straight-legged jeans, a white t-shirt, and a light, denim button-up. It’s unassuming but attractive. To keep his profile as lowkey as possible, he puts on a ball cap and sunglasses as well.
When he steps out, Jimin gives him a thumbs up. He changes too, into something more stylish and less comfortable, and they hit the town. Jimin makes Jeongguk drive him all over Padova. They look at statues along the river, at the Basilica of Saint Anthony of Padua, bakeries, scenic walks and sights. A few people stop them throughout the day to get pictures with Jeongguk, and he obliges them. Finally, they end up in a shopping district which Jimin promised would be the last stop before dinner.
Jimin makes him ask the sales staff at the stores a million questions in Italian, some of which not even Jeongguk is sure how to translate. While Jimin is looking over a lineup of identical silk handkerchiefs, which he swears are different shades of blue, Jeongguk gets a text from Lucia telling him his outfit is better now. She follows it up by sending him a picture taken of him and Jimin walking down the street right outside this store. Shit.
“Oh, I look good in that picture. They should tag me,” Jimin muses, comparing a royal blue and an ocean blue handkerchief.
Jeongguk is furiously texting Lucia back to get information on the photo, where it was posted and by whom. She responds quickly, sending him the post. “Fuck, this is from like five minutes ago.”
Jimin's back straightens, and he tilts his chin down slightly. “Are they here now? They should get a shot of me from this angle.”
“Can we leave?”
Jeongguk doesn’t mind when people come up and talk to him like normal people, introducing themselves and asking for an autograph or a picture. He doesn’t mind because they ask. The sneaky pictures freak him out. It’s a stalker broadcasting his location, and the only people who would actually come to find him are, well, other stalkers. It makes him feel unsafe, watched. His fingers twitch at his sides as he looks around to see if anyone’s looking at him now.
Jimin seems to pick up on it. He steps in front of him so that he’s between Jeongguk and the window outside and says, “Yeah, I’m hungry now. I made us a reservation at a really fancy place.”
Jeongguk exhales deeply and nods, offering Jimin a grateful smile. “Fancy sounds good, secure.”
“I wish we’d gotten you a more suitable outfit for it, but I guess that’ll have to do.”
Jeongguk holds out his arms and looks down at his clothes. “This isn’t a bad outfit. Why’s everyone so mean to me about my outfits?”
“It’s a fine outfit, but it’s really not the vibe for fancy dinner,” Jimin explains. Maybe he’s right. It is a lot of denim. “It’s okay, though, neither is my outfit. We’ll just look stupid together.”
They share matching grins and make their way back out to the car. Jeongguk keeps an eye out the whole time, looking for anyone who may be watching him and waiting to snap another picture, another opportunity to expose his location. He doesn’t see anyone, either because they’re good at hiding or they left already. He forces himself to relax.
When they get in the car, Jimin inputs the directions to the restaurant on the car’s GPS. Jeongguk recognizes the restaurant; the last time he went was for Matteo’s engagement party. He’d rented out the whole place, and then complained to Jeongguk for a month about how expensive it was. It’s an extremely upscale place, and reservations are in high demand.
“How the hell did you get a reservation for this place?” Jeongguk asks.
“Easy, I gave them your name.” Jimin pokes through the touchscreen on Jeongguk’s car, cycling through all the apps and finding out what the buttons do. He’s especially interested in opening and closing the sunroof. As he opens it once again, he continues, “I thought about using Taehyung’s, but you have more pull here.”
Jeongguk withholds his flinch. Jimin and him don’t talk about Taehyung, not even accidentally.
He tries to laugh it off, but no laugh comes out. He asks, “What would’ve happened when Taehyung didn’t show up? Would they have kicked us out?”
“Okay, I didn’t think that far, but it’s okay because I used yours. He was my second option if your name failed,” Jimin clarifies. He’s still poking around the car touchscreen, not sparing Jeongguk a glance. If he did, he’d see how uncomfortable he is right now.
“Would you have just told them nevermind, put it under Taehyung?”
“No. Obviously, I would’ve hung up, waited a day, and then called back and disguised my voice.”
“You sound nothing like him, though,” Jeongguk points out.
Jimin finally looks at him, although his expression is displeased. “Stop poking holes in a plan I didn’t even go through with.”
Jeongguk drops the subject, and Jimin drops it as well. Jimin begins cycling through the Italian radio stations, and then they’re at the restaurant. Jeongguk leaves his car with the valet, and they head inside. Jimin pushes him toward the host stand.
“Say your name,” he whispers loudly behind him.
Jeongguk brushes him off and offers the host a polite smile. He says, in Italian, “We have a reservation under Jeongguk Jeon.”
Immediately they’re escorted away, back into the recesses of the restaurant. Although, the word restaurant feels a bit too casual for a place like this; it’s more like a fine dining establishment. The tables are covered in cloths, with cloth napkins folded to look like swans accompanied by an assortment of silverware. The chairs are all heavy mahogany, and the lighting is subdued, intimate. Everyone seems to be wearing their finest clothes, cocktail dresses and suits. Jeongguk looks down at his all-denim outfit and breathes a shameful sigh. Maybe, he should’ve bought something to change into while they were out.
Jeongguk wishes they could go to a Cheesecake Factory; that’s about as fancy as he can stand. He hates the actual fancy restaurants. It’s all small portions that are more leaves and sauce than actual food. The diners are more taken by the thought of eating than of actually eating.
They’re seated at a table by some large windows that look out at the river. At least the view is nice. It absolutely looks like Jimin and him are on a date, though. They’re standing out a lot, right now. He sends up a prayer that everyone here is too rich to give a fuck about him or post any unsolicited photos of him online.
The waiter comes to their table quickly, providing them with water and menus. Jimin orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu, and Jeongguk lets him. He’s almost certain there’s a sommelier here who could have pointed them in a better direction, but screw it. Jeongguk’s also curious how the most expensive wine will taste. The waiter comes back out with the bottle and opens it for them. He takes their food order.
Jeongguk, in Italian, says, “The seasonal tasting menu, please. He’ll have the same.”
After a little back and forth, the waiter takes their menus and leaves. Jimin was still reading his, so he looks a little miffed as their waiter glides back to the kitchen.
“Did you order for me?” Jimin asks. Jeongguk nods. “Did you get me something good?”
Jeongguk shrugs. He has no idea what he ordered. “Probably. You’ll see.”
“Better be good…”
It’s probably going to be terrible. If he had to guess, leaves, sauce, a sliver of meat. He got the tasting menu, though, so the desert will likely be good if nothing else is. Jimin doesn’t know it yet, but they’re definitely stopping for fast food on the way home.
Jeongguk pours them both a glass of wine. They clink glasses, and he says, “So, we’re at dinner. What did you want to talk about?”
“First, your birthday gift.,” Jimin says excitedly.
He digs around in his bag, and Jeongguk tastes the wine. He grimaces a little. It’s not bad, but for how much it costs he was expecting it to taste like the nectar of the gods. Sometimes, he misses drinking wine out of a bag. Those were the days.
Jimin pulls a round pin out of his bag, unwrapped. “Tah-dah.”
Jeongguk takes it from him and examines it. The pin has his face on it, a picture from high school—his bowl cut phase. It says, “It’s my 27th birthday.” Jeongguk laughs a little. It’s hideous but in a cute way. Probably not one of the most thoughtful gifts he’s ever received, but definitely one of the more personalized ones.
“When will I wear this? My birthday passed already,” Jeongguk laughs.
“Wear it now,” Jimin demands. He reaches for it as if he’ll put it on Jeongguk himself, but that’s an injury waiting to happen.
Jeongguk pulls the pin back and puts it on. He really, really hopes no one takes a picture of him right now. He asks, “Do you want me to be wearing it when you give me my real gift, or…?”
“That is your real gift.” Jimin blinks dumbly at him, and Jeongguk blinks back. Jimin explains, “We’ve been friends for twenty years, okay, I’m out of ideas for you.”
That’s fair. Realistically, Jeongguk ran out of ideas for him years ago. Jimin held on longer than he did. He says, “You know, this makes me feel better because all I got you for your birthday is a throw blanket. I have it at the house, actually. I’ll give it to you before you leave.”
“See? You get it. Happy birthday. Now, pose or something. I want to take a picture to post on Instagram.”
Jimin pulls out his phone, and Jeongguk offers him a close-lipped smile while he does a peace sign. He snaps a few pictures before pulling his phone back. Jeongguk leans over and watches him open Instagram.
He huffs a laugh. “You just want my groupies to follow you.”
“An unintended consequence.” Jimin waves him off. After posting the picture, he shoves his phone back in his bag and looks up at Jeongguk with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, onto my thing.” He laughs while he digs through his bag again, and Jeongguk would think he was crazy if he wasn’t almost certain Jimin was looking for an engagement ring. Jimin stops his rifling and asks, “So you know how me and Namjoon are dating?”
Jeongguk tries not to let on that he knows where this is going and takes a nonchalant sip of his wine. “Sure, it rings a bell.”
Jimin grins as he pulls his hand out of his bag and holds it out to Jeongguk. He’s wearing a ring, maybe the biggest diamond ring Jeongguk’s ever seen. He extends his hand out to him, closer and closer to his face. Does he want Jeongguk to kiss it?
“We’re not dating anymore. Care to guess why?” Jimin asks as he wriggles his ring finger. “Ask me why.”
“Why?” Jeongguk asks, trying to sound as clueless as possible so that Jimin can have his moment.
“Because we’re engaged to be married!”
“Finally,” Jeongguk laughs, and he offers his friend a big smile. Jimin returns the sentiment, grinning so widely that his cheeks push into his eyes and his ears turn red. “Congrats, Jimin. I gotta say, though, I figured this would be your big news. You’re really bad at being subtle.”
“Oh, I’m the worst at it. But, wait, that’s not all.” He grabs Jeongguk's hand with both of his own, purposefully placing the hand with the diamond on top. “Will you be my best man?”
Jeongguk’s eyes get misty as soon as the question is posed. He doesn’t cry, but he could. When they were kids, and they talked about their dreams, Jeongguk’s was always volleyball. But, Jimin wanted to get married. Granted, he would always specify that he wanted to marry rich, but Jeongguk knew better. Jimin’s a lover. His dreams changed over time, grew. He wanted to go into law, he wanted to take care of his family, and then his dream became Namjoon. Jeongguk is over the moon for him, and he’s so grateful that Jimin would include him in this way.
Of course, there was no doubt in his mind that he was Jimin’s first pick for best man, but him living out of the country and being so busy complicates things. It’s been hard being involved the past few years, as if he’s been stuck in this stasis while everyone’s lives move, while everyone grows. Most days, he feels the same as he’s always been. Looking on from the other side of the world at what everyone else has become.
Maybe, this is Jeongguk’s dream, too. To love and to be loved. He got the volleyball thing, maybe it’s time he picked something else to work toward. He regrets all the distance that’s grown between them: his friends, his family. Other regrets, too, one that feels bigger than ever now. The feeling grows, a welling sadness, but he smiles through it. This is a good thing, and it feels like a good first step. It feels like belonging.
He sniffles, but still doesn’t cry as he says, “Obviously!”
“Okay, good. If you said no, I would’ve also said no when you asked me,” Jimin says, but he is crying. Not much, just a few tears he wipes away quickly.
Jeongguk squeezes his hand and laughs at him. “Who says I would’ve asked you. Maybe, I would’ve asked Yoongi.”
Jimin snatches his hands away. “You would not.”
Jeongguk takes a deep sip of his wine. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I’m so excited for you, though. When did Namjoon ask? How did he ask? Have you started wedding planning?”
He’s asking a lot of questions to cover up that sadness, trying to engage in conversation as totally as possible to take his mind off of it, but it lingers. Another pair of his friends are getting married. He’s not, but he would’ve. He would have gotten married before all of them if he hadn’t walked away.
“Last week,” Jimin says, and it snaps Jeongguk out of his mind. He chugs down the rest of his wine. “I got tired of waiting, so I accidentally left a step-by-step instruction sheet on how to propose to me in his car. Standard stuff, on a beach at sunset, after a helicopter ride to a secluded area. We’re thinking we definitely want to do it next year, probably late summer or early fall. You and Taehyung are our best men, so we want to make sure that both of you can be there. Destination wedding, of course. As for the destination…We’re of differing opinions, but I’ll win. Don’t worry.”
Jeongguk pours another glass of wine and takes a couple gulps of it before speaking again, still trying to smile so that Jimin doesn’t see the turmoil within him. He’s happy for him, truly. There isn’t a world in which he wouldn’t be happy for Jimin. Sometimes, though, he’s also sad for himself. He despises the feeling, how selfish it is. Still, it sits with him, and he isn’t sure how to make it go away.
“Do I have to help…Do I have to wedding plan…or, wait, um.” Jeongguk sighs and takes another sip. He asks, “Do I have to collaborate with the other best man?”
“Well…it wouldn’t hurt.” Jimin smiles sympathetically, but it reads more like pity.
Jeongguk snorts. “It wouldn’t hurt you. Can’t say the same for me.”
“That brings me to my next point. You have to bring a plus one.” Jimin’s smile drops, replaced with the tough-love exterior Jeongguk is used to from him.
“Lucia?” Jeongguk asks hopefully.
“Lucia’s invited, and she’ll probably bring her girlfriend.” Jimin pokes his finger into Jeongguk’s chest. “You have to bring a date, romantically.”
Thankfully, the waiter arrives with their first course before Jeongguk can respond. It allows him some space at least. Maybe by the time he leaves, Jimin will have forgotten the demand. Jeongguk takes his time ordering more wine hoping for just that.
Jimin looks down at the plate happily. “Jeongguk, this looks beautiful.”
Jeongguk finally braves a look at his own plate. It barely looks like anything because it is barely anything. “It looks like a Tostito. Like, one Tostito. And, what are these? Did they just smash some peanuts and put whipped cream on them?”
Jeongguk has no idea what to make of the plate. It really looks like they put sauce, miniature cheese cubes, baby dollops of whipped cream, and—naturally—a few leaves on one chip and placed it next to some crushed peanuts with a big dollop of whipped cream on top of them. He drinks more of his wine.
“I doubt that’s what it is,” Jimin says with a roll of his eyes.
“Then what is it?”
Jimin shrugs and tries it. His eyes widen. “I have no idea, but it’s great.”
Jeongguk also tries it. It’s pretty fucking good, savory but he can’t place it either. He mumbles, “Would be better if there were fifteen more.”
Jimin laughs. “Stop being grumpy to get out of this. I’m serious. You need to bring a date.”
“Where would I find that?”
“Anywhere. Get on the apps, I don’t know.” Jimin tries scooping up the crushed peanut things with his spoon but fails. He ends up picking the little bits up with his fingers and popping them into his mouth. “Seokjin’s had good luck with the apps here.”
Jeongguk frowns. Seokjin is another sore spot for him. It’s not that they never talk, but since he’s become Taehyung’s agent, they talk a lot less. Maybe, it’s his fault for not reaching out more, maybe it’s Seokjin’s. There’s an unspoken divide between them, though. One that they both recognize but don’t try to bridge. It’s probably for the best. Taehyung and him are together all the time most likely.
“I don’t want to get on the apps,” Jeongguk says flatly. He also eats some of the peanut things with his fingers. It doesn’t taste like peanuts.
“Your mom keeps talking about how she wants you to bring somebody home. She wants grandkids, and she’s not going to say it to you, so I have to listen to it,” Jimin complains.
“Sure, I’ll think about my imaginary kids that you and my mom talk about. Can we go back to talking about your wedding now?” Jeongguk asks, desperate to get away from the topic of dating.
“In a bit,” Jimin says. Jeongguk groans in exasperation before Jimin asks, “Are you ready to see Taehyung tomorrow?”
Jeongguk downs his glass of wine, again. He pours another. Why’s everyone making a big deal out of this? They probably won’t even talk. Hell, he’ll be surprised if Taehyung even looks at him. They’ll talk around each other, never to each other, eat and drink and dance, and the night will end. They’ll go their separate ways again, still owing each other nothing, and the status quo will maintain. And Jeongguk is perfectly, supremely okay with that. That’s what he tries to tell himself, at least.
“I’m fine,” Jeongguk says, hoping it sounds convincing. “I’m not really thinking about that, more about the big game.”
“Right.” Jimin smirks, the know-it-all. “The big game against Taehyung.”
Jeongguk glares at him. “The big game against a good team that Taehyung happens to be on. We really need this win, Jimin.”
Realistically, it’s early enough in the season that they don’t need to win that badly, but they could certainly use it after their last loss. He doesn’t trust Jimin to keep up with volleyball enough to know that, though, so he hopes the lie is convincing. Jimin hit the nail on the head the first time. The only reason he’s anxious about the game is because of Taehyung, not that he’ll admit it.
“Fine, I’ll bite,” Jimin says. He takes a sip of his own wine. “What’s Matteo saying about the big game?”
Thank god. Jeongguk’s glare drops, and he answers easily, “He also thinks we need to win, and he thinks that Allianz will give us a hard time doing that. Tensions are high.”
“What’s the outlook? Is it possible?” Jimin asks, swirling his wine. He seems bored, but Jeongguk doesn’t care.
“It’s possible. We have great defense, and we’re really good on transitions. So long as we bring our A game, we’ll have it in the bag. But, Allianz…their offense is insane. I mean, they have Taehyung. I’ve never seen someone run an offense like he does, and he’s having a really good season.”
“What about Mingyu?”
Jeongguk frowns. “You know Mingyu Kim?”
“Yeah.”
Jeongguk pulls out his phone. Jimin has no reason to know Mingyu Kim; there’s no way they’re talking about the same person. He’ll pull up a picture of him to make sure. As he opens his browser, Jimin leans over to look at his phone. It’s open to a recipe that Jeongguk doesn’t want to lose, so he opens his tabs to select a new one, and Jimin sees it all. The wall of internet searches regarding Taehyung: an interview, a google images tab, a YouTube compilation, even a Reddit thread. Jeongguk’s face burns red, and he turns off his phone immediately.
“Was that-”
“Don’t say anything,” Jeongguk cuts him off. “I was just…You know Mingyu Kim the volleyball player? The Olympian and outside for Allianz? That Mingyu?”
Jimin gives him a weird look, but doesn’t press the issue. “I’ve talked to him a few times.”
“Why?”
“He’s close with Taehyung.”
Jeongguk’s heart stops. It has no right to, no reason. It’s not his place who Taehyung is and isn’t close to. He’s not supposed to care. It’s that selfish feeling again, stronger this time. He drinks more of his wine.
“How close?” Jeongguk asks, hating how he doesn’t want to hear the answer.
“Why do you care?”
It’s a bold question to ask after getting a first-hand view of Jeongguk’s browser history. It’s also the question Jeongguk constantly asks himself. Why does he care? Why should he? Why can’t he stop? Of course, he knows the answer, but he does a good job of not saying it, not thinking it. He won’t speak it now.
Jeongguk settles on saying, “Because I do. Is he Taehyung’s plus one to the wedding?”
“Reel it in,” Jimin says, holding up his hands and gesturing to Jeongguk to calm down. “I asked about the game.”
Jeongguk sighs. “Well, yeah, Mingyu’s a good player. He’s great, one of the best. Taehyung’s really good at using him on the court.” He bites his cheek and some skin peels off of it. “Does he also use him off the court?”
Jimin gapes, and then laughs. He sounds scandalized as he asks, “How would I know?”
“Because you know,” Jeongguk points an accusing finger at him. “Because you just asked me about him, and then told me he and Taehyung are close. So, you know something.”
The waiter cuts them off by bringing the next dish. He clears away the previous plates and sets down something with more substance. Not much, but more. Three thin slices of meat, a dollop of mashed potatoes, and some smaller potatoes. Well, Jeongguk thinks they’re potatoes. Thankfully, no sauce this time and minimal leaves. He thinks he’ll like this one. The waiter refills their water and goes back to the kitchen.
Jeongguk takes a bite as Jimin responds, “I know that they’re close.”
He chews the tender meat, and is remiss to admit it’s maybe one of the best things he’s ever put in his mouth. It’s so good that it smoothes his edges a little. He asks, “As friends?”
“Yeah. I don’t have any reason to believe otherwise,” Jimin responds. He also takes a bite off his plate, and his eyes widen again. “Holy shit.”
“I know,” Jeongguk says.
“Wow.”
They polish off their plates quickly. Not that they could savor it; there’s not enough food to savor. Once it’s gone, the turmoil returns inch by inch. He scours his brain for everything he knows about Mingyu. They play the same position, but Mingyu has been in the professional realm longer than him, even though they’re the same age. He’s the captain of Allianz, and, frankly, a phenomenal player. Mingyu is generally well-liked, funny, charming, and charismatic. Jeongguk has never heard a bad word about him. They’re both Korean, and Mingyu’s taller than him. And, hotter than him. Jeongguk hates his guts.
“Fuck, Mingyu’s hotter than me,” Jeongguk mutters. He chugs his remaining wine. It hits him at that moment that he’s drunk. “Taehyung has such an obvious type. Of course, they’re together.”
“They’re definitely not together.”
Jeongguk ignores that Jimin didn’t disagree with the fact that Mingyu’s hotter and Taehyung’s type. He says flatly, “Okay, hooking up, then.”
Jimin seems to think about it for a moment, looking up. Jeongguk wants to throw up until Jimin says, “No, I don’t think so. Really, they’re just friends. I think they should, though.”
Jeongguk gapes at him. “Why would you say that to me?”
He pours another glass of wine as Jimin explains, “Because Mingyu’s hot, nice, and I also think it would be good for Taehyung. You’re both in this weird, gross limbo, and it’s time to snap out of it.”
“Don’t talk to me about that,” Jeongguk snaps. “Don’t tell me he’s not over me. He didn’t want me to know how he’s feeling, or what he’s doing, so don’t just say it like that.”
“Sorry. For what it’s worth, I do think he’s over you. He told me as much. I just don’t think he’s quite ready to date, and I think he should. But, I get it, he’s busy.”
Jimin polishes off his glass, and Jeongguk heaves a deep sigh. This isn’t worth getting worked up over. It’s been three years.
“Good. That’s…good,” Jeongguk says. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
Jimin asks, “Should I tell him to bring Mingyu as a plus one?”
“That’s not my business.”
Jimin only nods, and Jeongguk detests how all-knowing he is.
“Are you going to be normal tomorrow?”
“Relax,” Jeongguk says, sinking down into his chair. He offers Jimin what he hopes is a confident smile. “I’m media trained. I’ll be cool as a cucumber.”
—
Eight, Nine, Ten.
Jeongguk counts his breaths in his head, breathing heavily in his locker. He was okay this morning. Jimin and him woke up bright and early, only a little bit hungover from the wine. They ate eggs, took Tylenol, and brushed it off before meeting the team to travel to Milan. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that the anxiety started to set in, and not until everyone left the locker room to get on the court that it fully seized him. Once he’s out on the court, that’ll be it. Any moment from that point could be the moment that Taehyung walks back into his life.
Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty.
He exhales heavily, and his heart finally slows. The locker door creaks as he pushes it back further and pulls his head out. Matteo is still there, waiting for him. He gives him a sympathetic look and pats him on the back.
“Let’s go,” is all he says.
“Okay.”
Jeongguk says it, but he doesn’t move.
Matteo sighs. “Do you want to sit on the bench?” He’s not asking in a demeaning way, but genuinely, wondering if that would be easier for Jeongguk.
“I can’t,” Jeongguk responds, his tone pathetic and tinny even to him. “You know I can’t. That’d be so embarrassing, and you need me out there today.”
“I need you out there composed, not…whatever this is,” Matteo corrects. He laughs a little, a light-hearted sound that eases Jeongguk’s spirits slightly. “Come on, I got your back, and so does everyone else. It’ll be like any other game. Just watch the ball. That’s all you have to do. Your body knows the rest of it.’
Jeongguk nods. He asks, only half-joking, “Can I throw up real quick?”
“Swallow it,” Matteo demands.
He grabs Jeongguk’s wrist and leads him out of the locker room while Jeongguk thinks about how much he wishes he’d talked to his therapist about all of this. He’d give anything to change his thinking pattern right now, to know how to. But, he’s stuck in it. Constant thoughts of how much Taehyung must hate him, how desperately he must not want to play with him. Those thoughts are combated with reminders of what he did, that the person who walked away doesn’t have the right to worry about what he left behind. Taehyung has a right to feel the way he does. If Jeongguk feels bad, it’s because he should. It’s only fair.
So, he does.
When they step out onto the court, the rest of the team is already out there. Jeongguk wants to hide his eyes, but he instinctively looks around. Allianz isn’t on the cour yet, and he calms. His eyes sweep across the stands, packed and bustling. Most of them are wearing dark blue and white, or Allianz jerseys, but he spots a section of Padova’s fans. Many are holding signs with his name on it, posters of his face, or wearing his jersey. He waves at their section, and they scream back at him.
Unfortunately, though, he doesn’t have the most fans in this crowd. Not by a long shot. Surprisingly, considering how early into his first season he is, Taehyung seems to have quite a few. The most, though, is undoubtedly Mingyu Kim. Jeongguk’s rival in volleyball and in love, it would seem. Really, he’s who Jeongguk should be worried about, but he’ll worry about that when they’re on the court. If he blocks Mingyu, he’s sure he’ll feel much better about the whole thing.
A little removed from the crowd, in the VIP section, he spots all of his friends. Yoongi waves at him once he catches him looking and then pulls on Hoseok’s arm so he’ll stop talking to Jimin and wave at him, too. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, but he smiles and waves back. If nothing else, it’s comforting having them there.
Before they start warming up, Jeongguk makes his rounds with the crowd. It’s all part of his image, to be fun and friendly. Which, he is. That naturally became the public’s perception of him during his first season here, but he’s in too deep now to neglect doing it because he’s in a sour mood. At this point, he gets most of his money from sponsorships, and that means maintaining his image. So, even though he’d rather sit on the bench and hide under a towel, he signs autographs and takes pictures with kids.
Last year, a kid asked Jeongguk to sign their shoe. He was so endeared by the odd request that he did it, and it somehow made national news. Now, kids always ask him to autograph their shoes. He’s in the middle of signing one when he hears screams. The hair at the back of his neck stands on end, as if it already knows who’s behind him. Jeongguk finishes his signature, the same one he created with Taehyung in Boston all those years ago, gives the child back her marker with a smile, and slowly turns around to find Allianz running onto the court.
Taehyung comes out last, waving a few times at the crowd. Jeongguk doesn’t look to see if any wave back; he’s sure they do. Because he’s Taehyung, and he’s here on this court, doing what Jeongguk always hoped he would. His heart thuds in his chest as he takes him in, and it feels like the first time. Jeongguk’s fingers graze the red athletic tape on his shoulder as he remembers how he looked then.
Now, he’s older and grown into himself. His legs, once so lithely athletic, are now corded with muscle, and as he moves his arms to wave, Jeongguk can see the sharp cut of his bicep, the breadth of his shoulders. And, his face, still so gorgeous. The dark hair suits him, even if Jeongguk loved the blonde, the red, how bright he always seemed to be. The white of his jersey brings out the tan on his skin, warm and glowing. He laughs with his mouth open at something someone says, and Jeongguk’s heart skips before it thuds more, and more.
Taehyung’s knee pads are still at his ankles, and he’s too far away for Jeongguk to make out the exact design, but he has a leafy tattoo on his shin, around his knee and disappearing somewhere under his shorts. He catches the glint of his nose piercing and almost falls to his knees. Two things occur to him in quick succession. The first is that Taehyung got hotter. The second is that Jeongguk loves him.
He knew he did, that he always would. Harboring those feelings in secret, and being forced to face them are two very different things. Now that Taehyung’s in front of him, he doesn’t know how he could ever deny it or pretend those feelings weren’t there. It seems so obvious to him now, so completely undeniable.
Taehyung smiles as someone hands him a yogurt pouch. He begins sucking it down, and Jeongguk smiles softly as he watches him. Yes, this is what he always wanted for him. He seems happy here, happier than even Jeongguk hoped he would be. Allianz starts doing stretches, and Taehyung joins them. He’s as flexible as he always was, maybe even more so. Taehyung sits on the floor and stretches to grab his foot, wrapping his hand around his shoe and bending down until his nose touches his leg. His tattooed, muscular leg.
“You’re staring,” Matteo says from behind him.
“Yeah, Jeon, sorry to interrupt whatever you’re doing,” Bosco, their opposite hitter, says.
Matteo interjects, “Staring. He’s staring.”
“But, can we warm up now?”
Jeongguk doesn’t pull his eyes away, and he doesn’t think he can. Finally, Taehyung looks his way. Jeongguk doesn’t know what to do with his face, but he tries to smile a little. But, he realizes Taehyung isn’t looking at him. He’s looking behind him. Jeongguk turns to find Matteo giving Taehyung a sly smile as he waggles his fingers at him in a mocking wave. What the fuck is wrong with him?
Matteo slings an arm around Jeongguk’s shoulders and pulls him away.
Bosco yells, “Looking good, Taehyung!”
“You too, Bos!” He yells back, and Jeongguk wants to scream.
“How the hell do you know Taehyung? Why does he have a nickname for you?” Jeongguk asks him. He knows why Matteo does. They have some sort of weird setter rivalry that started when Taehyung hit the national stage, and they’ve remained neck and neck in global ranking. But, Bosco?
Bosco holds his hands up defensively. “I didn’t fuck him if that’s what you think happened.”
He says it a little too loudly, and he gets weird looks from the players around them. Jeongguk just gapes at him.
“Did I say that’s what happened? Why the fuck would that be where your mind goes?” Jeongguk asks.
“I thought maybe it was a jealousy thing,” he tries to explain.
“It’s not,” Jeongguk says firmly. “I don’t- Taehyung can do whatever he wants, I was just curious. I’m sorry that I asked aggressively. He just hasn’t looked at me this whole time, and then he talked to you, and I’ve been on edge because of our history. I really am just curious how you know him.”
Jeongguk gets like this when his anxiety is high. That’s what his therapist said, at least. He gets anxious, and he lashes out: a fight response. So, they’ve been working on fixing it or at least making him more aware of his anger in the moment. He can stop the ball from rolling now, reign himself in before it crushes someone.
“I know him from the VNL. We’ve hung out a few times on the international circuit, that’s all,” Bosco answers. “I saw him last month, actually, for the last week of the VNL. He went out with a few of us from the Italian team. Matteo was there, too.”
“Yeah, because I was offended at the idea of all of you hanging out with him without me. You know we’re enemies,” Matteo scoffs.
“Sure you are,” Bosco says condescendingly, patting Matteo on the shoulder. “But, we just got on well. He’s a cool guy.”
“I’m cooler,” Matteo mumbles. This time, Jeongguk pats Matteo’s shoulder.
“Seriously, though, can we warm up now?” Bosco asks.
Anton is already leading the team in warm ups, so they run over and join the group as they prepare for the match. Shortly after they conclude, the game is set to start. The cameras are on, and they go through introducing the visiting players. There’s not a lot of fanfare for them, just a simple listing for the starting lineup as they step forward to wave. Playing away games sucks.
Once they’re done being introduced, though, it’s Allianz’s turn. The lights go off, bright lights begin to flash, and a song with a heavy drum begins to play. The fans get on their feet, waving blue and white flags, shouting and cheering as each starting player is announced. As they’re announced, they run onto the court to high-five the person that ran out before them. Mingyu, as the team-captain, is announced first. The screams of the crowd reverberate throughout the building, nearly overpowering the sound of the music.
The last to run out is Taehyung. The cheers for him are also loud, loudest of all coming from their friends. Jeongguk almost yells with them, but he remembers himself before he does. Instead, he silently enjoys watching him run onto the court, all the high-fives he gets from his team, and the cheers he gets from the crowd. His smile is easier this time, not forced. This suits Taehyung well.
When the lights come back on, Jeongguk still looks at him. As Matteo and Mingyu step forward for the coin toss, still, he looks. Real, he tells himself. This is real, and they are both here. His stomach flips violently, a roil of anxiety and excitement all at once. It’s unfocused and unrefined, though. The game is lost on him; all he can think of and all he can see is Taehyung.
Jeongguk held true to his word. He thought of him, and he missed him. Late at night, he’d reach for him. Some nights, it’d be so bad, his finger would hover over Taehyung’s contact. Even if he got his voicemail, he just wanted to hear his voice. He never called, though, or texted. Never saw him except for in secret, scrolling on social media or watching interviews. It feels like a great betrayal now for him to be looking at him like this, a betrayal to Taehyung’s promise of never.
At a loss, unsure of how to act or who to be, unable to get a grip on his emotions—guilt and longing and love—he barely registers the blow of the whistle. Bosco serves the ball, and it arcs over the net in a quick and deadly swirl. It’s amazing how easy they make the receive look, how well they’re able to pop the ball up straight to Taehyung. Padova moves around the court, anticipating the hit before it comes.
But, the hit doesn’t come. Before any of them can register what’s happening, Taehyung dumps the ball over the net. It seems to fall to the floor so slowly as their net players drop to the floor to dig it out. But, they’re too late, and Taehyung looks down at them gleefully. Jeongguk’s feet barely moved, and they aren’t moving now. He feels stuck to the floor, entranced as one corner of Taehyung’s mouth lifts higher than the other. Jeongguk’s always liked him best like this, competitive and unrelenting.
The whistle blows again, and this time Allianz is serving. The ball comes right to Jeongguk, and thankfully, his body knows enough to get under it in time. His mind is somewhere else, though, and his distraction costs him control. The ball flies away from him and toward the stands. A couple guys from his team run to hit it before it can drop, but they’re too late. They lose the second point, and it’s all Jeongguk’s fault.
While Allianz takes a few moments to celebrate the point, Matteo runs up to him.
“You’re spiraling,” he says, worry tinging his voice.
“I- yeah. A little, but I’m fine. I’ll focus up,” Jeongguk promises.
Matteo snaps his fingers in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Stop looking at him. You either look at the ball or you look at me for my signal. You’ll have plenty of time to get lost in his eyes later. Okay?”
Jeongguk didn’t even realize his gaze was wandering again. It shouldn’t be such a hard request to abide by, but Jeongguk forgets to respond all the same.
Matteo claps a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re making mountains out of mole hills, but it’s only in your mind. This is just a volleyball game, nothing more and nothing less, but it is also our job, and your team needs you clocked in.”
Without waiting for a response, Matteo goes back to his position. Jeongguk slaps his hands on his cheeks in an attempt to ground himself and uncloud his mind. It works somewhat, but this is all so much easier said than done. His spiral rages greater in some ways because he knew it would come to this. A fear, but clearly not an unfounded one, that he would fail to perform here all because Taehyung stood opposite him. Because he knew it, he wonders why he didn’t prepare for it. What compels him to let down his team? Why can’t he play better? Why can’t he look away from him? What the fuck is wrong with him?
Anger joins his mix of emotions, and his blood runs hot. Anger at himself and no one else. Perhaps if he could project it elsewhere, he’d be able to do something about it, use it. But, it sits solely on his shoulders. He tries to throw himself into the game, but he continues to be self-deprecating. He’s playing worse than he has in a long time, and it creates a feedback loop. He fucks up, and he hates himself for it. He’s so stuck on hating himself that he fucks up again. When he spikes a ball out-of-bounds, Coach Jacobo calls for a time-out.
“Jeongguk, what’s happening out there?” he asks as they come off the court.
“I’m fine,” Jeongguk snaps.
Matteo throws his arm over Jeongguk’s shoulder and drags him away. Matteo says to Jacobo, “I got this, Coach. Talk to the other guys and tell them to pass to me better. I’m running around way too much out there.”
Matteo leads him to the water cooler, fills a paper cup with water, and watches him drink it. Jeongguk downs it in one go.
“So, care to tell me what’s going through your mind?” Matteo asks.
Jeongguk sighs and pours himself more water. “I keep fucking up. I knew I would because of Taehyung being here, but I just…I’m getting more and more in my head about it. I’m pissed because I want to play better.”
“Ah, a self-fulfilling prophecy. That’s a hard thing to kick, but I’ll tell you right now that none of us are angry with you, and we all actually have really high expectations. We never expect you to fail or fuck up, so I hope you’re not worried about what we think.”
“I know. Logically, sure, but I’m just angry,” Jeongguk responds. “Thanks, though. That means a lot.”
Matteo points over at Allianz, right at Mingyu and Taehyung. He’s ruffling Taehyung’s hair and laughing with him. They’re so close.
“You just need someone else to focus on,” Matteo says. “Not Taehyung and not yourself. A rival, someone like Mingyu. You know, your jump heights are pretty similar. So are your point averages. He’s taller than you, but you’re faster. Taehyung and him look pretty close, too. You’re gonna let him take your man and this game like that? If you’re angry, that’s okay, but make it his problem. Don’t you think he deserves that much?”
Mingyu sneezes, and Jeongguk decides he hates his stupid face. Then his face smoothes out after the sneeze, and Jeongguk mentally corrects himself: his stupid-hot face. Fuck. Yeah, he hates this guy. Mingyu can either be hotter than him or better at volleyball, but he can’t be both. Jeongguk will make sure of that.
“You’re right, and I’m going to kick his ass,” Jeongguk decides.
Matteo laughs, but then his smile drops. “Wait, like literally, or-”
The whistle blows, cutting him off. Jeongguk doesn’t try to assuage his worries, and he runs back onto the court after downing the water in his cup. This is his final net rotation before he goes to the backline, and he intends to make it count. Out of curiosity, he dares a glance at Taehyung. He’s picking at his nails and then yawns. Is he bored? That also pisses Jeongguk off, just enough to get him fired up in the right way.
The whistle is blown, and the serve comes to them. Bosco ends up being the person to receive Matteo’s set, but Allianz receives his spike. Jeongguk has a second to read where Taehyung’s sending that ball. Perhaps it’s instinct, intuition, or maybe it’s some subconscious part of him that has Taehyung all figured out, the remnants of playing with him. He knows where that ball is going. Jeongguk rushes to the right side of the net. Bosco and Matteo are there as well, and they all jump up for the block. It’s Jeongguk, though, that moves his hand just right to stop Mingyu’s attempt at a cross-court shot.
The ball falls on the other side of the net, and the point is Padova’s. Matteo is so excited that he shakes Jeongguk by the shoulders.
“There he is!” Matteo cheers. “Go serve them hell.”
With an easy laugh, Jeongguk rotates into the service position. He dares another glance at Taehyung, and he’s looking at him with an easy smile. Or, perhaps a challenging smile. The look stands in stark contrast to his bored expression just minutes before. It’s also the first time he’s looked back at him. Jeongguk smiles too, before either can look away. He wishes it would come off as menacing or perhaps mocking, but he knows that he only looks happy because that’s all he is. Taehyung’s looking at him.
The whistle blows, and it’s time to serve. This time, it’s not anger that forces that ball over the net, only a desire to give Taehyung more reasons to look at him. To be such a scourge on this court that all Taehyung can do is take him seriously, keep his eyes on Jeongguk and only Jeongguk. So, he uses the hybrid serve that he and Taehyung learned together: a fake-out to make them think he’s sending them a floater, but at the last second he whips his arm so violently that the ball approaches them like a comet.
Taehyung recognizes what’s happening before anyone else does, but he can’t save the ball alone. Taehyung rushes to receive it himself, but it’s too far from him. The ball hits the back corner, uncontested. The point is announced as Jeongguk’s team rushes him to smack him on the back and tell him to keep it up. Their crowd of fans screams about his ace serve. Still, Jeongguk’s eyes are only on one person. Taehyung laughs as he looks at where the ball hit. When he gets back into position, he’s bouncing on his feet, an excitement coursing through him now that can’t be tamed. Jeongguk recognizes that look in his eyes, that competitive glimmer.
He serves again, but they’re able to receive it this time. The ball comes back, and they receive it as well. Matteo sets to Jeongguk as he runs from the back of the court and launches himself past the 10-foot line for a pipe attack. There are blockers, but he’s higher than them. Even Mingyu can’t stop him. He hits the ball, and it tunnels a path through them, landing squarely in the center of the court. The point is his.
Cheers erupt again, from his team and the stands. Taehyung pats Mingyu’s back comfortingly, but he glances over his shoulder at Jeongguk with smiling eyes. Jeongguk feels on top of the world, and as he plays better, he feels better. His confidence continues to rise until Padova wins the first set. It’s a close win: 25 to 23. Mingyu kept up with him the whole set until the game started to feel more like Taehyung and Mingyu versus Matteo and Jeongguk.
As they switch courts, Taehyung and Jeongguk walk right by each other. They don’t meet eyes, or speak, but their knuckles brush against each other as they walk. He’s so close that Jeongguk can smell him—that familiar vanilla and sandalwood scent—so close that he can feel the heat of the game on him, the brush of air as he passes. Jeongguk can still feel the touch on his knuckles long after he’s passed like little centers of warmth on his skin.
“Looks like we might have this in the bag, boys,” Bosco says as he takes a seat beside Jeongguk and Matteo.
“Not even a little bit, so you better not slack out there,” Matteo warns.
Jeongguk agrees, “Taehyung will lose a battle to win a war. That whole time, he was watching us, looking for weak points or spots he could exploit, weighing his team against ours. This set will be a lot harder. I guarantee he’s over there giving them his game plan now.”
“Doesn’t matter if they can’t keep up with us, and I don’t think anyone can keep up with your right now.” Bosco smacks Jeongguk on the shoulder lightly.
“Thanks,” Jeongguk laughs. “But, Taehyung can keep up. He will. I’m telling you now, we’re playing five sets.”
“Have you been watching them? Do you have any ideas?” Matteo asks.
Jeongguk snorts. “You know I’ve only been watching Taehyung. He’s…a little diabolical. He’ll try to trick us, get us to make mistakes or misread him on purpose. That’s the best I can tell you. Just keep your offense fast, and we may be able to outpace them. As for everyone else, that’s your job. So, I don’t know, you tell me.”
“Their defense is a little weak at times, depends where they’re at in the rotation. They lose a lot in receiving power when Mingyu’s rotated to the front, even if he’s a good blocker. If you guys diversify your spikes, hit cross shots, cut shots, line shots, dinks, all of that, I think we stand a chance. I’ll do my best to avoid blockers, and you do your best to confuse the backline.”
“It’s a deal.”
Jacobo calls them over to begin his spiel about what he wants to see in the second set. Jeongguk passively listens. He’s basically saying the things Matteo’s been saying already. That’s what good setters do; they know the best way forward before anyone else does. It’s more than the physicality of setting the ball. How they set matters less than where they set and why. Matteo’s particularly skilled in it, in the same way that Taehyung is. They tend to take different approaches, but each move is methodical.
When they get back on the court, Jeongguk can feel it, Taehyung’s weighted stare as it sweeps across all of them until each move he makes feels scrutinized. Every breath feels like a tell, as if Taehyung can read him by this alone. He wondered once how it would feel to play against Taehyung. It’s intimidating in a way no other game has ever been. A weaker mind might cave in under it, but Jeongguk likes a challenge. He cracks his neck and drops down into position as the whistle is blown.
Taehyung serves, all power and no indication that his serve would be anything other than power. He’s being open about his serve because he’s that confident in it; it’s a big showing to make them even more intimidated. The ball is coming right for Jeongguk, and he dives to receive it, but Taehyung’s serve has always been of a trickier sort. The ball veers from him slightly, just enough to make it impossible to reach. He slides his palm across the floor. The ball hits the very tips of fingers which do nothing to prevent it from hitting the ground.
The point is called for Allianz, and the entire stadium goes crazy over the ace serve. It’s the second set Taehyung started with a point. Jeongguk stands up and looks down at his hand, curling it into a fist. Setters aren’t supposed to be this flashy. He laughs, genuinely amused and enjoying how arrogant Taehyung has become.
Servers usually aim for weak receivers, but Jeongguk is the strongest receiver on this team after their libero. Taehyung did this on purpose, betting that Jeongguk wouldn’t receive the ball. He did it maybe to humiliate them, or maybe to take a chunk out of their morale. Mostly, he likely did it to exert his own prowess, to sow fear in Padova and deepen that intimidating presence. It worked, for now Taehyung stands before them like a god on the court. Something divine made flesh as the whistle blows again, and he serves.
This time, the ball does not go for Jeongguk, but it’s still not received. The receiver manages to get his arms under the ball, but it flies out of bounds after he’s unable to control the force of it. Allianz celebrates as Taehyung receives another point off an ace serve. Matteo and him share worried looks. That cannot happen a third time. They readjust their positions to prepare for Taehyung’s third serve.
Jeongguk watches him carefully, how he gears up for the hit, the way his shoulders tilt and the shape of his hand at his side. It’s subtle, but he can see it. He’s going to float this one. As the hit comes, Jeongguk rushes forward. The ball snags on the net, losing all of its momentum. The team moved too far back to receive this. If it hadn’t snagged on the net, they would have been fine. This would have been easy. Jeongguk throws himself to the floor with an outstretched arm and prays.
The ball hits him squarely on the back of the palm and is forced back into the air. Matteo runs up for the set, and Bosco ends it with a line shot. The point is Padova’s. The pressure they all felt from Taehyung diminishes slightly, and the best they can do is heave sighs of relief. There’s little celebration amongst them. Jeongguk’s quick thinking is the only thing that allowed them to avoid what would have been a catastrophe. Starting a set with two ace serves is bad enough, but three? They may not have been able to come back from that.
Jeongguk looks at Taehyung again, excitement buzzing in the tips of his fingers. His look must be one nothing short of awe. Before Taehyung loved him, he was his teacher. This is what Taehyung sought to teach him, just how greatly a serve could change the course of a game. Jeongguk’s never seen someone do it as well as Taehyung just did. He’s phenomenal.
Matteo clears his throat, and Jeongguk snaps out of his reverie. He turns to him and finds that Matteo is giving him a betrayed look. He doesn’t say why and only offers, “Good receive.”
Jeongguk doesn’t have time to unpack that right now, so he just says, “Thanks.”
The game continues, and though Padova is able to keep up, they continue to stay one or two points behind Allianz. Matteo’s getting increasingly frustrated, and it seems everyone else is as well. Jeongguk feels it a little bit, how desperately they have to work to keep up with Allianz’s next play, then their next play. Still, he can’t help but have fun with it. Matteo seems to pick up on Jeongguk’s energy, though, and seems more upset by it as the set continues.
Padova calls a time-out, and they rush over to the line. Jacobo gives them a quick speech intended to boost morale, but it doesn’t do much. Before they head back onto the court, Jeongguk stops Matteo.
“Hey, just so you know, I’m happy you’re my setter. I mean, I’m having fun playing against Taehyung, but I just want you to know that you’re the person I want to play with,” Jeongguk says, suspecting Matteo’s mood has something to do with jealousy. He takes his rivalry with Taehyung very seriously.
“Whatever,” Matteo scoffs. He looks away but doesn’t move. Finally, he turns his gaze back to Jeongguk. “Do you really mean that?”
“I do.”
Matteo pulls him into a crushing hug for two seconds, pulls away, pushes Jeongguk back, and then sprints onto the court. In all, the interaction was maybe five seconds long. Jeongguk laughs. He meant that; he loves playing with Matteo. They’re good friends now, maybe even best friends. He’s so strange sometimes that Jeongguk wondered at first if it was a cultural difference, but that’s just Matteo. He reminds him of Jimin in that way, odd in all the right aspects. Their friendship has been a bright spot of his stay in Italy, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s good that he remind Matteo of that from time to time.
They get back on the court, and they’re finally neck-in-neck. Taehyung and Jeongguk are both at the net, openly looking at each other but still saying nothing. Taehyung plays with his nose ring in. Jeongguk replaces his lip and eyebrow piercings with rubber jewelry before he gets on the court, but Taehyung wears the gold. It still suits him so well. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead, and Taehyung wipes it off with his palm as he pushes it back into his hair. The last time they faced each other at the net like this, Jeongguk kissed him through it.
The whistle blows, and the rally begins, long and drawn out. They need to end it. A little too fast, and not at all precise, Jeongguk spikes the ball in a cross-court shot. The receive fails, and the point goes to Padova. Jeongguk turns around to celebrate with his team, but immediately Taehyung yells at the referee.
“He touched the net!”
Jeongguk stops in his tracks and turns around and marches back to the net.
“No, I didn’t,” he argues. He might have, but he doesn’t think he did.
“It was so obvious,” Taehyung responds. He’s still not speaking to Jeongguk, but to the referee.
“I think I would know-”
The referee cuts Jeongguk off. “We’ll review the footage.”
“Can I speak?” Jeongguk asks him.
“No,” is his quick response. They begin reviewing the footage, and they all stand there tensely.
The point is taken from Padova and given to Allianz. Well, fuck, maybe he did touch the net. Taehyung doesn’t even look at him long enough to gloat. He merely turns away and begins saying something to Mingyu. Jeongguk feels his face turn red. It would have been better if Taehyung bragged, or teased, or argued with him instead of the referee. This is humiliating, and it makes Jeongguk feels like he’s not worth the time of day. A deep frustration settles beneath his skin, and he’s pissed once again.
They lose the set after that, their morale too low to keep up with the pressure Allianz was putting on them. When they switch courts, Jeongguk avoids Taehyung this time, giving him a wide berth as he stomps over to sit down and have a drink of water.
Matteo joins him quickly. “Hey, man, that was fucked up. I didn’t think you touched the net.”
“It’s not our job to decide what I did and didn’t do. I can respect their decision. We all touch the net sometimes, so who gives a fuck? But, he didn’t look at me, or speak to me at all. Just pointed a fucking finger and let me fall,” Jeongguk complains. He sips at his water.
Matteo rolls his eyes. “I think you’re getting too worked up over it. How else was he supposed to issue that challenge?”
“I dunno, but he didn’t have to tattle like that. Like, ‘Teacher, teacher, Jeongguk touched the net!’”
“That’s exactly what he should have done,” Matteo laughs. “That’s how challenges work. Think about it. If it were any other player, you wouldn’t be upset.”
Jeongguk crumples up his water cup, and then immediately regrets doing that. “Shit, I wanted to get more water.” Matteo gives him his cup, and Jeongguk drinks from it. “Maybe, I don’t know. But, that referee was a dick, and Taehyung…I don’t know. If he’d been smug, I’d be fine. I’d probably be into it. But, he just acted like it was nothing, like the fact that it was me was nothing. I should expect it, but I don’t have to like it. I hated it, actually.”
Matteo rubs circles on his back. “Do you want me to get a net touch to make you feel better?”
“If you touch that net, I’ll issue the challenge myself. We’re drowning out there,” Jeongguk responds.
“I was kidding. C’mon, let’s go try to cheer up the guys before we go back out there. If this continues, we’ll lose the third set for sure.”
Matteo stands up and walks toward the rest of the team. Jeongguk pouts a moment longer before getting up to join him. He’s right. They have to get the mood up. Unfortunately, Jeongguk is not the right person to spearhead this initiative. He thinks his sour mood only worsens everyone else’s, and when they get back on the court, they’re all still on edge.
They play through the third set as best they can. They don’t lose by so much that it’s embarrassing, but a loss is still a loss. As they make their way off the court, Jeongguk looks over at Mingyu and Taehyung as they talk. Mingyu smacks his ass, which wouldn’t mean much to Jeongguk if it weren’t the two of them. Even on his team, they smack each other’s asses all the time, but Taehyung almost leans into it. He’s laughing with Mingyu about something, holding onto his arm. It’s so disgustingly flirty that Jeongguk can’t help but read into it.
“Matteo,” he whisper-yells as he bounds for his setter. “Matteo, we need to talk.”
Jeongguk drags him to the other side of the court as they switch sides. He says, “I have something to tell you.”
Matteo looks intrigued. “This sounds promising. You have an idea for how we can win the fourth set?”
“No,” Jeongguk says. He looks around to make sure no one’s listening. “I think Taehyung and Mingyu are sleeping together. Like, for real.”
Matteo frowns and walks away.
“Where are you going?” Jeongguk calls after him.
“Bosco, you’ll never guess what Jeongguk just told me,” Matteo says. Fuck, Bosco is the biggest gossip in the league.
“What?” Bosco asks.
Jeongguk joins them. He clamps a hand over Matteo’s mouth. “Nothing, it’s not important. You’d hate to hear it.”
Matteo licks his hand and Jeongguk pulls it away, grimacing as Matteo rushes out, “That Mingyu and Taehyung are sleeping together.”
Jeongguk smacks a hand to his forhead. The rest of the team is around now, and they all definitely heard that. Jeongguk addresses the group, “I said that I thought, maybe they were, and I only brought it up because I know that I’m making it up in my head and wanted Matteo to tell me I was being crazy. It’s not true, guys.”
“I don’t know,” Bosco says. “I definitely caught that vibe.”
“Fuck you, no you didn’t,” Jeongguk snaps.
“Oh,” Bosco says, his eyebrows raising. “Okay.”
Jeongguk grabs Matteo’s arm and pulls him away again. “Not cool, man. Now everyone’s going to be talking about it.”
Matteo rubs his eyes and drops his hand with a sigh. “Dude, we’ve talked more about Taehyung than we have about strategy. We gotta lock in. If we lose the fourth set, I’ll go up to Mingyu myself and tell him to fuck Taehyung.”
“Well, you won’t have to, because he already is,” Jeongguk hisses. He crosses his arms. “And, what about that time we lost a game because you were stressed about proposing to Sara? I was really nice about that. Remember?”
“That was different!” Matteo exclaims. “It was only one time, and then when I proposed to her and she said yes, we won our next five games. It was a net-positive.”
“This is also one time!” Jeongguk exclaims. “Only mine won’t end well. I’ve been in love with him for four years, and now I realize he’s probably fucking the guy I decided an hour ago is my rival. He hasn’t said a word to me, and he seems intent on methodically pissing me off. And, then after this, I have to go get dinner with him and all of our friends because we still have all the same fucking friends, and somehow figure out how to navigate that bullshit of a situation. Can you blame me? I’m crashing out here, dude. I’m losing it! Be nice to me!”
Matteo pats him on the shoulder. “Okay, okay, I get it. Usually, you’re sad about it, so this is a different vibe from what I’m used to.”
“I am sad! This is sad!” Jeongguk whisper-yells more. He smacks Matteo’s hand away. “Did you know I Google him? Excessively?”
“I did, yeah.”
“I can’t stop.”
Matteo pulls him into a hug, one he doesn’t run away from this time. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know this is hard, but it’ll be okay. If nothing else, think of it this way, it’ll end. Tonight isn’t eternal, but how we play tonight matters. Do you think you can compartmentalize just a little longer?”
Jeongguk sighs into the hug. “Yeah, I can do that.”
When Matteo steps back, he feels a little better. All he has to do is delay his breakdown, not write it off all together. He can do that.
Matteo smiles. “Good. You feeling better?”
“For now,” Jeongguk says.
“Are you going to apologize to Bosco for snapping at him like you did before?”
“No,” Jeongguk says sternly. “He deserved it that time.”
Matteo laughs and agrees with him, and they rejoin the team in preparation for the fourth set. Weirdly, with a little bit of gossip to pass amongst themselves, they seem to be in higher spirits. Of course, Jeongguk hates what they’re gossiping about, but he’s compartmentalizing. That’s just another thing that he’ll be angry about later, probably tonight once he’s back in his hotel room.
They get back on the court, and the game is afoot. They’re keeping up much better this time. Hell, they’re even pulling ahead. Despite the rough start they’ve had to the season, this is a good team, and they play well. They’re getting back into the swing of things still, and this set is shaping up to be a good one for them.
After an underwhelming serve, the team manages a perfect pass to Matteo. He’d already signaled to Jeongguk how this was going to go down: a shoot set. Jeongguk leaps with all his might and meets Mingyu at the net, there and ready for the block. Jeongguk slams the ball down with all his might, catching the top of Mingyu’s fingers in a wipe. The ball goes out of bounds, and Jeongguk begins celebrating the point before it’s announced. They give the point to Allianz.
Jeongguk rushes to the referee. “He touched the ball. That’s our point.” The referee looks to Mingyu. Jeongguk adds on, “I want a challenge on that.”
Mingyu scratches the back of his neck. “No need. I did touch the ball. It should be Padova’s point.”
Just like that, they get the point back. Jeongguk doesn’t feel pleased with it, though, not when Mingyu so valiantly owned up to it. What did Taehyung tell him? He likes good boys who listen. Mingyu seems to fit the archetype, the fucking suck-up. He didn’t even let it go to challenge. For him to do this after Jeongguk contested his net touch? Jeongguk hates his guts.
He huffs away, back to his position, and waits for the game to kick off again. There’s an unsettling feeling in his stomach now, and he can’t place it, but his eyes keep finding Taehyung. He’s not playing as aggressively with Jeongguk as he has been, which would offend Jeongguk if he didn’t feel like he was being evaluated. Taehyung’s tracking him. To what end, Jeongguk isn’t sure, but he’s sure he’ll find out soon. He tries to swallow down his unease as they play through the rest of the set. Padova wins by four points, and the game isn’t over yet. Just as Jeongguk predicted, they’re playing a fifth set.
They switch courts once again. This time, Taehyung eyes him down purposefully. Jeongguk doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how uncomfortable he feels, so he stares back. Their eye contact doesn’t break until they pass each other. Still, he can feel the eyes on the back of his head, as if Taehyung continues to stare at him. If this is some sort of tactic, Jeongguk has to not let it work.
They all sit and drink water while Jacobo lectures them. They’re tired now, sweaty and breathing heavily. Allianz doesn’t look much better. They’re all ready for this game to end.
The fifth set starts with a bang. Bosco serves in a way he never has before, and it rockets over the net. An ace serve. Immediately, the scale tips in their favor, any holes in their morale being filled with one, fell swing. Bosco serves again, and this time Allianz receives it. The volley is long and arduous. Finally, Matteo tosses to him, but when Jeongguk goes to hit, Taehyung is on him. His arms extend up like a wall, and Jeongguk has milliseconds to rethink his attack. Deftly, he pushes the ball over Taehyung’s hands, just slightly, a dink as it falls to the floor, and they win the point.
When they hit the ground, Taehyung immediately turns around and gets back in position. The unease settles into Jeongguk again. They continue playing like that, long volleys for a pittance of points. With each go around, Taehyung is there. Wherever Jeongguk goes, he’s there. Jeongguk finally realizes what he was doing in the fourth set. Yes, he was watching him, tracking him, but it was more than that. He was making note of all his movements: where Jeongguk spikes and how, his approach, his reactions to blockers, his jump height. Storing it all away so that he could use it now. He’s trying to pin him down, corner him so that he can block him.
Jeongguk almost feels overjoyed at the revelation, even as it puts him on edge. He’s always loved a cat and mouse game. As long as he’s being chased down, though, he’ll remain the mouse. He’ll have to put Taehyung on the defensive, put more heat on his hitters. When Jacobo calls a time-out, Jeongguk relays this to the team.
“Taehyung’s trying to get us worked up,” he says. “He wants us to feel trapped, so be careful and smart with your hits, and don’t let him do anything crazy, either. He might try another dump or a set-over. Keep an eye on him.”
They break and get back on the court. Jeongguk eyes Taehyung cautiously, like prey unsure if it should scurry or not. The volley kicks off once more, and they watch each other. Taehyung knows he’s caught Jeongguk’s attention now, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He keep tracking Jeongguk as he has.
The game is nearly done now: 15 to 14 with Padova in the lead. If they get this last point, they’ll win. The thought of winning here, of beating Taehyung, pushes fresh adrenaline through Jeongguk’s veins. He feels it like a buzz from his head to his toes.
Jeongguk watches the volley carefully, and he hits, but the ball won’t drop. When it’s back on Allianz’s side of the net, he tenses up. This point can’t be theirs. They pass the ball to Taehyung, and he jumps with only one hand extended. A dump. Jeongguk calls for it, and he and Matteo leap at center net to stop him, their arms towering over so that they can block it. At the last moment, Taehyung pulls his other hand up as if to set the ball, but it’s too late. Jeongguk catches the ball on his fingers and it slams to the ground.
The point is called for Allianz, and he holds his head in his hands as he groans. He just fucking stopped a setter from setting; a reach over. Taehyung set them up for a reach over. Jeongguk should’ve known. Taehyung does not telegraph his sets, he would never give away where he’s going to set. He knew how on edge they were, how anxious they would be for this final point, and he used it against them to make them mess up on purpose. Did he plan this from the beginning? Did he start the game with a dump so that it would stick with them, keep them scared?
Jeongguk catches Taehyung’s smile as he turns and walks away. His heart might beat out of his chest.
He may be the best volleyball player in the world. Jeongguk isn’t remiss to admit it. In fact, he delights in it, how someone so exceedingly perfect would size him up as a threat. The reality of it, though, is that Taehyung is a very real threat to them at the moment. A threat that’s trying to pin Jeongguk down in a game that’s already gone into overtime, when they’re all exhausted and ready for it to end. Jeongguk doesn’t know how much longer he can keep up with him, but he’ll try. Now that they’re here, he doesn’t want to lose.
They play another volley, and another, until the score sits at 16 to 17, with Allianz in the lead. They can’t lose this point. Matteo signals to him that he’s going to toss to Jeongguk. Taehyung probably already knows. He’ll be anticipating it. Jeongguk will just have to beat him to the net.
When the toss comes, it’s perfect, everything Jeongguk needs it to be. He’s put all of his strength into this jump, all of his desperation. Taehyung is there, and Jeongguk knew he would be. He angles his arm to hit a line shot, and as he slams the ball, Taehyung moves his arm just enough. The ball doesn’t hit the floor, not on Taehyung’s side of the net. It tumbles down in front of Jeongguk, bouncing right of Taehyhung’s wrist. Down and down until it bounces off the vinyl.
The point is called. Allianz won.
Jeongguk is initially heartbroken by the loss. He squats down on the court and wipes the sweat from his forehead as he breathes, in and out, and again. He lost their game of cat and mouse. Taehyung finally pinned him down. When Jeongguk glances up to dare a look at Taehyung, he finds him smiling with his team as they smack him on the back and pull him into hugs. The devastation wears off. He remembers something Taehyung told him, that his dream had been to play against Jeongguk and block him. He finally did it.
Besides, this was good volleyball, and they were worthy opponents. Jeongguk would be more upset if this was a qualifying game, but it’s fine. He’s still the top scorer; not even Mingyu could beat him in that regard. Well, Jeongguk might still be upset that Taehyung winning means Mingyu also won, but he’ll get over it.
Jeongguk stands up and wipes the sweat from his brow as a prideful smile grows on his face, for Taehyung and what he’s done today. In a moment of stupidity or bravery, he isn’t sure, Jeongguk hangs off the net and yells, “Congrats, Tae. Good game.”
Taehyung’s smile doesn’t drop as his gaze turns from his team to Jeongguk. He offers him only a wink in response, and goes back to his conversation. Jeongguk feels satisfied with that, and a little shocked that he did it as well. Taehyung didn’t spite him, though. He…smiled. Jeongguk grips his chest as he joins his team, grieving the loss. Matteo is taking it the worst of all, so Jeongguk tries especially hard to cheer him up.
They line up to touch hands under the net. Taehyung’s still smiling, and though he doesn’t look at Jeongguk as they touch hands, he does touch him. They both finish out the game like this and put the whole thing to bed. Now that it’s over, Jeongguk feels like a weight is lifted off his chest. He reaches the end of the line before everyone else and turns back to watch the rest of the guys. Matteo is also smiling now, but when Taehyung passes, his smile drops. Jeongguk laughs at him.
“Hey, Teo, don’t let it get to you. We’ll get them next time,” Jeongguk offers as Matteo walks over to him.
Matteo frowns. “You’re really not upset?”
”Nope.”
“Well, I’m upset. That was embarrassing for me,” Matteo whines. He tugs on his hair as they make their way over to the chairs to grab their towels.
Jeongguk comforts, “It wasn’t embarrassing at all. You were everywhere all at once. It just didn’t work out.”
“I should’ve seen the dump.”
Jeongguk laughs, “Have you been thinking about that the whole game?”
“Yeah, and I’ll think about it tomorrow, too. I should’ve known. Dumps are, like, his thing. And, my thing is winning. It’s not fair that he got to do his thing, but I didn’t get to do mine. And, we lost our last game, too.” Matteo sighs as he picks up his towel and slings it over his shoulder. With a shake of his head he declares, “A bad week for Matteo Bracci.”
“Stop sulking,” Jeongguk says, lightly punching his arm. “You’re one of the best setters in the world, and even the best are allowed to have bad weeks. Next week will be better.”
“So, you’re saying it was my fault that I had a bad week? It’s my fault that we lost?”
Jeongguk scratches his head. “Did I say that?”
Matteo nods slowly. “I think it was implied.”
“It wasn’t. I’m just saying bad weeks happen to everyone. Go shower. You’ll feel better,” Jeongguk says, pushing Matteo toward the locker room.
“I guess. Wanna drink tequila at the hotel bar later?” he asks.
“Can’t. I have a thing, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, your friend thing. Remind me why I’m not invited?” Matteo asks. This feels like a set up, but Jeongguk just laughs it off.
“I don’t trust that you won’t bite Taehyung’s head off. Plus, it’s all of my college friends. We haven’t met up in a while, so we’re keeping it to just us.”
“Ugh, you’re going to celebrate his win with him, aren’t you? I should kill you right now.”
“No, he’ll probably ignore me the entire night, so I won’t be celebrating shit,” Jeongguk says. It probably doesn’t sound very convincing because he’s still smiling, but he’s sure this good feeling will wear off soon. Tonight will likely be hell. He offers, “I’ll hang out for a bit, find an excuse to ditch, and then we can probably drink at the bar.”
“Okay,” Matteo agrees easily. He pokes his finger into Jeongguk’s chest. “Don’t sleep with him.”
Jeongguk pushes his hand away. “Obviously. I would never do that to you, not when you’re this vulnerable.”
Matteo raises a brow, suspicion lining his every feature. “You’d do it when I’m less vulnerable?”
Jeongguk makes a show of thinking about it. He shrugs. “I might consider it.”
“Thanks,” Matteo deadpans. “I’m gonna go shower.”
Matteo heads to the locker room and Jeongguk runs over to his group of friends, still waiting in the stands. Taehyung isn’t there, so now’s his best chance to talk to them. They all greet him enthusiastically, yelling his name and waving their arms, even Seokjin.
“Jeongguk, I forgot how high you can jump,” Hoseok says as he approaches.
“Well, it’s higher than the last time you saw me play, so…” Jeongguk shrugs as he trails off.
“Show off,” Yoongi mumbles.
Jeongguk ignores him. “I have to go shower and get packed up, but I’ll meet you guys there.”
“Okay. You remember where we’re going?” Jimin asks.
“Text it to me,” Jeongguk says, already walking away.
He joins his team in the locker room, and as he runs shampoo through his hair, the happy feeling fades bit by bit until he’s confronted with all of tonight’s possibilities. The anxiety returns anew, and he wonders what Taehyung will say to him if he says anything at all. He wonders which of those options would be preferable.
Jeongguk leaves his bag with Matteo and begrudgingly goes to join his friends at the bar.
The entire taxi ride over, he’s fraught with nerves. He admittedly picked out this outfit for Taehyung, something he knows he looks hot in: a pair of blue jeans that hug his ass just right, a white t-shirt that does wonders for his chest and waist, a pair of bitch boots—courtesy of Jimin last Christmas—his nicest watch that isn’t the one Taehyung got him, and gold jewelry. He looks hot, maybe too hot. Luxurious, too.
Something in him doesn’t want Taehyung to see him as that college guy he dated, the one with mismatched love seats and decade-old t-shirts. Tonight, he wanted Taehyung to see his success, the money he now gets to dress himself in, how well it suits him. Stupid. He’s so stupid. If he could go back in time, he would pack a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt.
What if Taehyung thinks his piercings look stupid? What if he hates his short hair? What if he hates his new look, and clothes, and jewelry? What if he takes one look at Jeongguk and realizes that he dressed up just for him? This is the most humiliating thing he’s ever done. He should open the door of the cab right now and jump for safety. They’re only going maybe 25 miles per hour; he could make it.
The cab stops in front of the restaurant, and it’s too late to regret his decisions now. If anyone asks, he’ll say that he dressed up for Hoseok. He cares about fashion, so it’s probably a good excuse. Jeongguk pays the cabbie and heads inside. As he approaches the table everyone stares at him.
“You’re wearing the boots I got you,” Jimin says, his mouth dropped a little as if that’s shocking.
“Well, yeah. I had to dress up for Hobi,” Jeongguk responds.
Jimin gives him a knowing look, but Jeongguk ignores him. Hoseok says, “Well, I think you look great. Can I have the boots?”
“My Prada boots that are two sizes too big for you? No, you can’t.”
Yoongi offers to buy Hoseok a pair of boots, and Jeongguk tunes them out as he looks around the place. Taehyung and Seokjin aren’t here, yet. That’s good. It means Taehyung gets to be the one to awkwardly come in instead of him which is the least he can do for Jeongguk after that block. Jeongguk takes a seat at the end of the table, across from Jimin.
He grabs the drink menu and begins flipping through it as he bubbles, “I’m so fucking excited you guys are here. First round’s on me.”
“Thanks, hyung,” Hoseok says with a smile. Jeongguk can’t help but genuinely return it as it eases some of the tension within him. It’s the Hoseok effect. “It was really cool seeing you on the court again. Good game.”
“Until Taehyung gets here, we can pretend you won, if you want,” Jimin offers. He takes a long sip from his water glass as he eyes Jeongguk down.
Jeongguk laughs good-naturedly, now feeling nostalgic and sentimental. Jimin and him don’t get to talk like this much anymore. He used to be annoyed by how Jimin would often try to gauge how Jeongguk was feeling rather than just asking about it, but now he loves it. It’s quintessentially him to be nosy and obvious.
“All good. He won fair and square,” Jeongguk responds. He doesn’t feel any lingering resentment about the game.
Yoongi snorts. “Man, therapy’s really doing you wonders, huh? If this had happened in college, you’d have killed a man.”
“Probably,” Jeongguk laughs. He waves him off, though, purposefully trying to show off his watch. “I make too much money to be bitter about it now, though.”
“You’ve got the second round too, then?” Yoongi asks. He reaches for Jeongguk’s watch, and Jeongguk holds his hand out to him and lets him fiddle with the clasp. Yoongi slips the thing off his wrist and starts putting it on his own.
“And the third if you guys are nice to me,” Jeongguk says pointedly as he snatches his watch back.
“We’re always nice to you,” Jimin says. He sounds like he believes it, too.
Jeongguk sides eyes him as he clasps the watch back on his wrist. Jimin stares at him dumbly long enough for him to not disagree with him. Instead, he asks, “Have you guys ordered anything yet?”
“No, we were waiting for everyone,” Hoseok answers.
“Let’s get some starters,” Jimin says, opening his menu. “We don’t know how long Taehyung and Jin will be, but we do know that Taehyung’s always late.”
“I had to look beautiful for you, Jimin. Being this hot takes time.” Jeongguk startles as the voice comes from right behind him, Taehyung’s voice.
Is Jeongguk supposed to turn around or sit still? He can’t not turn around, can he? He goes back and forth with himself a million times in the milliseconds it takes for him to decide to just peek over his shoulder, acknowledging but not eager. Shit. Should he say hello?
Jimin saves him from that debate when he says, “You’ve always been my hottest friend. Congrats on the win. I knew you’d pull through.”
Jeongguk would usually argue with Jimin about the the-hottest comment and the win comment, but he bites his tongue. After all, Jimin’s right. Taehyung is the hottest person here, and he did win. As Taehyung walks around the table to sit between Hoseok and Jimin, Jeongguk gets a good look at him. For him, this is more of a casual look, at least from what Jeongguk remembers. He’s wearing dark jeans, a thin belt that matches his leather jacket, and a couple of stacked necklaces. It’s simple, classy. Jeongguk nearly starts drooling as he catches a whiff of Taehyung’s cologne, that sweet, earthy scent that he still dreams of. Taehyung’s hair is styled away from his face, a few strands dangling along the side of forehead and showing off his thick, straight brows.
As Taehyung licks his lips, Jeongguk’s gaze instinctively drops to them, so pink and pretty. Fuck, he’s staring again. The light hits Taehyung’s necklaces, drawing his eyes down lower, though. He’s not wearing the ‘J’ necklace. Of course, he’s not. Jeongguk looks away. He doesn’t even know why he thought he might be, what instinct that lay within him that told him to expect it. No, he probably threw that thing out a long time ago. Jeongguk pouts and grabs Jimin’s water to take a sip from it. With any luck, Taehyung pawned it. It was real gold.
“Thanks, Jimin,” Taehyung says, drawing Jeongguk from his thoughts. “Let’s eat now. I’m starving.”
He doesn’t address Jeongguk, and Jeongguk doesn’t address him. As Seokjin sits down between him and Yoongi, he pats Jeongguk on the back in greeting. Once he and Taehyung open the menus, Jeongguk knows it’s too late for him to say anything. Though he feels stupid once again, he reasons with himself that it’s probably not his place to make the first move here. If Taehyung wants the ice broken, then he’ll break it. Jeongguk doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable for the sake of appeasing his own nerves.
“Drinks are on me tonight, of course,” Taehyung says to the group.
Jeongguk perks up. This is his opportunity to say something, to open a line of dialogue. He just has to tell them that he already said he’d pay. As soon as his mouth opens, though, Hoseok steals his thunder. “Jeongguk already offered, but we’re happy to drink enough for both of you.”
Jeongguk looks down at his lap, dejected. So much for that plan.
“Oh,” Taehyung says, somewhat haughtily. He flips through the menu pages, not looking up. “Okay. I’ll get dinner, then.”
“Can we do oysters?” Jimin asks.
Jeongguk and Taehyung both fix him with a glare as they simultaneously say, “No.”
Jeongguk’s face gets hot, and he looks away from everyone before they can see it, shoving his head in a menu as well. He knows that he and Taehyung thought of the same thing. When they were in Boston, they tried oysters, and Jimin choked on one. Taehyung almost did the heimlich maneuver on him, but Jimin managed to cough the slimy thing up before he turned purple. The way it flopped out of his mouth was so nasty that none of them could finish the meal. They ended up picking up bodega pretzels for dinner instead and lounging in his parents’ living room watching nature documentaries. Jeongguk laid between Taehyung’s legs, with his back pressed to his chest, and he fell asleep early like he always did. Is the memory as happy for Taehyung as it is for him?
Jimin sighs, also probably remembering the same thing. Jeongguk doesn’t understand why Jimin would want oysters after that. Jimin says, “Fine. What’s good?”
Again, at the same time, Jeongguk and Taehyung say, “Veal Milanese.”
Only, this time they don’t look away from each other. They make eye contact briefly, and then seem to simultaneously get uncomfortable with that as they both begin to look anywhere else. Luckily, the waiter arrives and saves Jeongguk from himself. Everyone tells Jeongguk what they want and then stare at him, waiting for him to order for the table. Except Taehyung who just asks for his drink in English.
Jeongguk turns to the waiter and speaks in Italian, “Put everything on my ticket. We’ll start with two bottles of wine, whatever the bar staff recommends.” Seokjin laughs a little after Jeongguk says it. “What?”
“Just funny.” Then, Seokjin says in Italian, his tone unbearably teasing, “Whatever the chef recommends.”
Jeongguk blushes, embarrassed. He mutters, “Shut up.”
He eyes Taehyung out of his periphery; he’s looking between the two of them, clearly confused. He must not have learned much Italian yet. Cute.
“Did you want any appetizers?” The waiter asks. Jeongguk shoots the question back to the guys.
Jimin absolutely butchers the word, but he says, “Bruschetta.”
Jeongguk orders a couple of other appetizers, and the waiter hurries away to put in the order and get their drinks. As they wait, he chats with Seokjin, mostly about his dating life. The apps really have treated him well. Taehyung is distracted, talking with Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin. Jeongguk uses the opportunity to sneak glances at him.
He feels as if a rock is sitting in his chest. Taehyung’s acting like nothing’s wrong as he laughs with their friends. Perhaps, nothing is wrong, and this is another storm Jeongguk’s crafted in his imagination. This is how things are meant to be; it’s what he asked for when he walked away. In truth, he expected Taehyung to be angry, and he’d made his peace with it already. Well, he tried, at least. He knows, though, that he could’ve handled the anger. This, though, isn’t angry; it isn’t even cold or dismissive. They’re simply existing in the same place, and he doesn’t seem to care. It’s the nothing of it all that Jeongguk can’t wrap his mind around. He feels as significant to Taehyung as the chatter of the strangers around them: background noise. Not anything worth mentioning.
Their waiter returns with the wine and bruschetta. Jeongguk orders another bottle and asks for a few more minutes to look over the menu. Jeongguk immediately pours himself a glass and begins sipping from it. Jimin lifts his own glass, and Jeongguk moves to fill it, but Jimin tugs it back and offers him a scowl. A harsh reception considering he was just trying to be nice. Jeongguk sticks his tongue out at him and sets the bottle back down.
Then, Jimin picks up his knife and tries to cling it against the glass, but it only sounds a dense clang. Jeongguk snorts as Jimin looks down at the tableware like it betrayed him. Oh, he’s slipped on his ring. He must be ready to announce his engagement to the others. Everyone else is talking loudly now that they’re settled in, and no one sees Jimin’s struggle or pays him any mind. After a few seconds, Jimin slams his hand down on the table.
“Look at me!” he hollers, loud enough to catch glances from other restaurant patrons.
Everyone cuts off their conversations and looks at him. Jimin smiles brightly, but the frustration of being ignored is still evident in the cut of his eyes. He holds up his hand and that massive, brilliant diamond. “I know this may come as a shock, but I’m officially engaged. Clap if you care.”
They all clap awkwardly, except for Jeongguk who makes a big show of being excited. Jimin shoots him a grateful glance.
Seokin says dryly, “Wow, congrats, Jimin. I had no idea that your big thing that you were insisting you had to tell us when we were all together was going to be this.”
Hoseok imitates his tone, “Truly, a shock. So happy for you.”
“Can I be your best man?” Yoongi asks excitedly, leaning over the table so he can see Jimin past Taehyung.
“Obviously, you can’t,” Jeongguk chides, poking a finger into his forehead and pushing him back into his seat.
“Why not? Jimin’s my best man,” Yoongi argues.
Jimin doesn’t seem excited about that. Instead, he seems stumped. “I am?”
“Well, no,” Yoongi admits.
“I’m your best man, idiot.” Seokjin also reaches over to poke Yoongi in the head.
Yoongi smacks his hand away and pokes him back. “You’re the idiot.”
Jimin sighs dramatically. Seokjin and Yoongi continue poking each other, so Jimin sighs again, louder this time. They look over at him, and Jimin says, “I wish Namjoon were here so we could share the news together. I hate Dubai, and I hate business.”
Hoseok pours himself a glass of wine and gives Jimin an amused look. “I mean, you gotta pay for the wedding somehow, right?”
“You’re so right,” Jimin responds, snagging the open bottle. “I love Dubai and business. I’m going to have my dream wedding, even if it has to be at a stupid time because of Jeongguk and Taehyung.”
Taehyung laughs loudly, one, sharp ha. “Well, I don’t think it matters when weddings happen, more like the union, but congrats Jimin. Welcome to the family.”
“I hate your family,” Jimin complains. Taehyung nods as if he finds that reasonable. “And I want a June wedding, but…love prevails and all that.”
Jimin takes a few chugs of his win. He was initially sucking up to Namjoon’s parents, but he eventually came to the same conclusion Jeongguk did: they’re the absolute worst. Unfortunately, he sees them somewhat regularly since he and Namjoon are living in Chicago. It’s about all Jimin could talk about this year: the stress of the bar exam and the bigger stress of having to be in the same room as Namjoon’s mother.
What’s Taehyung’s relationship with his parents now? As soon as the thought comes, Jeongguk tries to brush it off. It’s too personal, too strange to be wondering these things. It’s a question Jeongguk will never ask and one Taehyung will never answer. He has no right to know anyway. Namjoon, at least, seems to get on with them as well as he always has. At least from what Jeongguk has gleaned from their occasional conversations. They get along now for the most part, catching up from time-to-time when he’s on the phone with Jimin. They aren’t close, though. To be fair, they never have been.
“All of you can be my groomsmen,” Jimin announces proudly, although it sounds more like a demand. “I have to get you before Namjoon does, so maybe it’s a good thing he’s gone. I already gave him Taehyung, and that was a great concession.”
Taehyung groans, “Namjoon’s groomsmen are going to be his gross football friends. You guys remember the old roommates.”
Without thinking, Jeongguk responds, “Ew.”
Taehyung’s lips twist in a wry smile, but he doesn’t look at Jeongguk or acknowledge the comment.
Yoongi laughs, “God. I was cleaning beer stains out of the ceiling for a full year after they left.”
“And, they’re still there. Cheers to that,” Hoseok says, holding out his class. Jimin clinks it with his own, and then Hoseok pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “I really hope you survive that bachelor party.”
Taehyung frowns while everyone except Jeongguk laughs at him. He says, “I miss rooming with you guys, even if the house was nasty. At least Jin still cooks for me.”
The conversation has taken a turn to the college years that Jeongguk missed, and that no one told him about because of Taehyung. He downs his glass of wine and pours another.
“We’ll move in right now,” Yoongi offers.
Hoseok pensively runs a finger over the lip of his glass. “Living in luxury with Taehyung does sound better than finishing my thesis.”
“You guys are welcome anytime. If you do plan on an extended stay, though, I’ll have to give Seokjin a raise so that he can feed all of us.” Taehyung gestures at Seokjin who looks a little too elated at the prospect.
Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s hand, holding it desperately between his own. “Please stay.”
Jeongguk can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Surely, Taehyung pays him well. He offers, as an attempt to get in on the conversation instead of sadly blowing through another glass of wine, “Oh, that reminds me Jin, I heard about your promotion. Congrats.”
“No promotion, didn’t take it. The pay was somehow worse,” Seokjin says. He tuts and shakes his head. “Taehyung pays me more, but he treats me worse. Capitalism.”
Taehyung laughs. “I pay you more than any assistant should be paid. You literally have access to my bank account.”
“I’m not an assistant, though. I’m your agent.”
Taehyung hums, somewhat mocking and somewhat amused. “The difference?”
“The dif- The difference?!” Seokjin sputters. “I went to school for this.”
“Okay,” Taehyung laughs. “Would you like a raise?”
“No,” Seokjin answers immediately. “I’d feel bad. You do pay me a lot, and I feel like asking for more would be taking advantage. You’re not that bad. I just love to complain about my bosses.”
Jeongguk snorts. “You should hang out with Lucia. I think you two would really get along.”
“How is Lucia?” Hoseok asks, his words drawn out in a sweet lilt. The few times he’s met Lucia, he’s adored her. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Jeongguk shrugs but smiles. For some reason, he’s happy that his friends are curious about her. Her friendship is one of the few, really good things he’s gained here. “She’s fine, I guess. She’s been going to church with her grandma on Sundays, which she always complains about on Monday. Other than that, same old same old.”
“I actually do see Lucia from time to time,” Seokjin says. Lucia never told him about that, so he makes a mental note to ask her about it later. “Jeongguk, you stress her out too much.”
“She stresses me out, actually,” Jeongguk responds. “I love her to death, though. I’d be nothing without her.”
Taehyung coughs at that, choking on the wine he’d been sipping on. He glowers into the glass as if he’s annoyed by the conversation. Or, perhaps it’s more than that. Is he bothered that Jeongguk’s speaking? At the thought, Jeongguk retreats a little into himself. Maybe, he should’ve taken more of a backseat here.
“You should bring her to the wedding,” Seokjin says, giving Taehyung a weird look.
Jeongguk shakes his head, but that’s too vague of a response, so he settles on saying, “I already asked Jimin if she could be my plus one, but he told me she’s invited.”
Taehyung’s gaze shoots to Jimin, something accusatory in his gaze. Seriously, what’s his problem? Even Jimin looks confused as he stares back.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Taehyung announces.
He stands up to leave and then looks back at Jimin who is picking up a piece of the bruschetta. Taehyung grabs him by the back of his shirt and drags him away. The bruschetta falls out of Jimin’s hands, and he tries to squirm away from Taehyung the entire way to the bathroom. As soon as they’re out of eyesight, Jeongguk drops his amenable smile and lowers his head onto the table. He’s a little tipsy now. He’s drank a bit of wine already, and he hasn’t eaten since lunch.
“This is going terribly,” Jeongguk groans into the table.
Hoseok says, “I don’t think so.”
Jeongguk lifts his head back up and slumps down in his chair. “Did you see that? He was upset that I was, like, speaking.”
“Well, actually…” Hoseok starts, but he shakes his head as he cuts himself off. “He wasn’t. Just trust me.”
Jeongguk doesn’t. “Should I just leave? I’ll go drink with Matteo at the hotel, and you guys can have fun. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s night.”
“No, you shouldn’t leave.” Hoseok looks at him stupid. “We want you here.”
Seokjin chimes in, “Yeah, We basically live in the same place, and I never see you. I was really excited to see you.”
Jeongguk eyes go wide at that, his shock at something so simple probably too much for him to not explain it. “I’m glad you said that. I thought that, maybe, you hated me now.”
“Why would I hate you?” Seokjin laughs. “You know we’re both just busy. You’re one of my best friends.”
Yoongi shoves Seokjin’s head to the side so that he can look Jeongguk in his eyes. He says, dead serious, “Jeongguk, if you leave, you’re not my best man anymore.”
Jeongguk smiles and doesn’t argue. “Thanks, Yoongi. I knew you’d pick me.”
“The title really holds no meaning to you, does it, Yoongi?” Seokjin asks, his head still tilted back.
“Very little,” Yoongi admits.
Jeongguk laughs at them, and Seokjin sits back up. Jeongguk says, “I know I’m the last person Taehyung wants to see, but I thought we’d be fine during dinner. We didn’t even say hi to each other. I wanted to say hi, but then I didn’t, and then it was too late. And, then I was thinking maybe it’s not my place to initiate conversation? Is that stupid?”
“No, he probably feels the same way you do,” Hoseok says. “It’s just a little weird, but we’re okay with a little weird. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together, so don’t worry about us. We’re just happy seeing you.”
“Thanks, guys,” Jeongguk offers. He’s having a hard time believing them. “I need a real drink, though. I’m gonna head to the bar. If the waiter comes back, get me the Veal Milanese.”
“Okay. Take your time,” Yoongi says. As Jeongguk walks away, he hears him ask the table, “How are we going to order without him?”
“I’ll order.” Seokjin already sounds endlessly exasperated. “I’ve been teaching you Italian for months now. Did you forget.”
“Sorry, panic clouded my memory.”
Jeongguk laughs and makes his way to the bar. He orders a whiskey on the rocks, and when it’s given to him, he ends up sitting at the bar and sipping it, forgetting to go back to the table. Maybe, he doesn’t want to. It was ridiculous to think he was ready for this. He’s been in his head all night, and all the happiness he’s felt getting to see his friends has been cut by fear of his own inadequacy, assumptions he’s made about Taehyung’s feelings, and assumptions he hasn’t made. He definitely didn’t seem eager to have Jeongguk around when he went to the bathroom.
With a sigh, he makes a decision. He’ll eat his meal and then go join Matteo. This is too much for him.
“Did you like my present?”
Jeongguk startles a little and then turns to his left as Taehyung slides into the stool next to him. Jeongguk can’t help but gape. Taehyung is the last person he expected to come looking for him.
Not believing it, Jeongguk looks behind him. It’s just the two of them. To be sure, he asks, “Are you talking to me?”
Taehyung’s lips twitch. “Yes.”
“Oh,” is all Jeongguk has the wherewithal to say. He takes a sip of his whiskey, and the sweet warmth of it is soothing as it pools in his chest. “What present?”
“The block. Happy birthday.”
Jeongguk laughs even though he doesn’t want to. He almost forgot how absurd Taehyung is.
“Right. Thanks. My birthday passed,” he reminds him. “It’s better than what Jimin got me, though.”
“The pin? Yeah, I saw the pin.” He must’ve seen it on Jimin’s Instagram. Taehyung points at his chest. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”
Jeongguk gives him a pointed look. “Do I have to answer that?”
Taehyung laughs, something genuine and not pained. “Good game. You had me on the ropes for a while.”
“Until I didn’t,” Jeongguk responds. His voice is a little too quiet, breathless and obvious. His laugh is deep, pooling in Jeongguk’s chest better than whiskey warmth ever has. He tries to shake off his awe and continues, “Not often that I get blocked. I should’ve known you’d catch me.”
Taehyung shrugs. “It could’ve gone either way. I’m glad it went my way though, if only to see the look on Matteo’s face.”
“Oh, yeah, he was pretty devastated,” Jeongguk responds. The words sound flat even to his ears, but he still can’t believe this is actually happening.
“Can you order me one of those?” Taehyung asks as he points at Jeongguk’s whiskey.
Jeongguk hesitates. Is this a thing? Does Taehyung want to talk to him right now? As he tries to think of the best response and how to say it so it doesn’t make him look pathetic, he forgets to respond entirely.
“Do you want me to leave?” Taehyung asks. Shit, he almost looks upset at the implication.
“No,” Jeongguk rushes. “Uh, no, sorry. I’m trying this whole thinking before I speak thing, and sometimes I have to think for a long time.”
“Okay,” Taehyung says, and it’s intoxicating the way his smile grows. Close-lipped until he’s grinning. “Well, I’ll let you think, and I’ll order my drink.”
Taehyung waves down the bartender to order, and Jeongguk continues to think about what he can say, something that makes Taehyung want to stay but doesn’t scare him off.
When Taehyung gets his drink, Jeongguk says, “It’s good to see you.”
Taehyung laughs, probably finding it funny that’s what took Jeongguk so long to say. “You too.” Then, he looks Jeongguk up and down, his eyes heavy and slow as they rake up his torso and back to his eyes. He licks his lips. “I like your piercings.”
Jeongguk’s chest tumbles, and his breath catches. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Taehyung just checked him out.
“Thanks. I- I like your hair,” Jeongguk responds, feeling the need to compliment him back. There are a million things about him he likes more than his hair, but it feels safe to comment on the most obvious difference since they last saw each other. He doesn’t think he can look at Taehyung the way he just looked at him, not without getting hard in his jeans at least.
Taehyung frowns. “You’re just saying that.”
Jeongguk can’t hide his confusion at the response. He frowns back. “No, I’m not.”
“You liked it blonde.”
“And that means I can’t like it like this?” Jeongguk’s disagreeing with him for the sake of keeping up appearances, but Taehyung has him pegged. The blonde was better.
“No, I just need a reason to go back to blonde, someone to validate it. Jin won’t let me.” Taehyung pouts as he sips at his drink.
Is he teasing him? Jeongguk thinks he might be. He’s not sure what to make of that, so he answers earnestly, “Well, I don’t think my opinion is that important, but, yeah. I liked the blonde.”
Taehyung seems pleased with the response. If he actually dyes his hair blonde after this, Jeongguk might never recover from it.
“Sorry for earlier,” Taehyung says, grabbing a straw. He swirls the ice in his glass. “I should’ve said hi when I came in.”
“I could’ve said something, too,” Jeongguk says, again too fast, too eager. He sips at his glass to force himself to slow down, but there’s only ice left. He pulls the glass from his lips. “So, I’ll be sorry with you.”
Taehyung’s smile is pained now, maybe even disappointed. “I figured you wouldn’t, and, maybe, I was being a little mean about it on purpose.”
“I wanted to. I just don’t know how to…”
“Say hi?” Taehyung asks.
Jeongguk’s cheeks get hot. “To you, yeah.”
Jeongguk can’t admit to Taehyung that he wants him to take the lead on any interaction they have because he’s too guilty to start anything himself. Jeongguk left him. It’s a fact that hasn’t ever been as clear to him as it is now, as they try to navigate how the other changed in all the years they’ve been apart. Taehyung looks older, his hair is darker, and he has a tattoo. He’s how he was when Jeongguk first met him, confident and a little condescending, teasing and absurd. Not withdrawn and burdened how Jeongguk left him.
In some ways, maybe he reverted to who he always was. That person’s new to Jeongguk, too. They spent as much time hurting each other as they did loving. Admittedly, he spent more time doing the hurting. He won’t say any of that to Taehyung, though, so he hopes that he’ll understand.
“Well, we have at least two weddings to attend together, and we’ll see each other a lot in the league. So, we should at least say hi to each other,” Taehyung says after a few moments of staring at Jeongguk’s still-red face. He’s enjoying this. There are parts of him Jeongguk still knows well enough to know that.
“Okay,” Jeongguk agrees easily. “Let’s say hi to each other.”
Taehyung takes a sip of his drink and Jeongguk mirrors him even though his glass is empty.
“You know, since we’re really close apparently.” Taehyung leans as he says it, his voice teasing in just the way Jeongguk likes.
If he were actually drinking something right now, he would’ve choked on it. Taehyung’s chest shakes as he polishes off the last of his whiskey. Jeongguk can’t tell if he’s laughing with him or at him, but he’s elated either way. He didn’t think they’d laugh at all tonight.
“You…saw that interview,” Jeongguk says slowly. Taehyung nods, and he seems anything but upset. Jeongguk runs with it and decides to laugh with him. “Whatever. What would you have said if they asked you that question?”
“Probably the same thing you did,” Taehyung admits.
The bartender comes back around and Taehyung orders them two more drinks.
He turns to Jeongguk when he’s done. “If you’d answered differently, they probably would’ve been asking me about it. So, thanks. We’re athletes, not reality stars.”
Jeongguk snorts. No one understands that sentiment better than he does. “I wish they’d understand that.”
“You’re pretty popular. You probably get more of it than I do,” Taehyung says offhandedly.
As Taehyung eyes him with a little more interest than his words convey, though, Jeongguk understands the subtext of what he’s saying. The tabloids. Right. Jeongguk can’t do anything without it ending up in a gossip rag or plastered all over Twitter the next day. Everyone seems especially concerned with his sex life, a phenomena he’s grown somewhat jaded to. He never sees anything like that about Taehyung. Is he really good at hiding it or does he keep to himself?
Another question Jeongguk absolutely won’t ask. He responds, “Yeah, it’s been one of the harder adjustments.”
Taehyung gives him an understanding nod. The bartender sets their drinks down in front of them, but neither picks up their glasses. Taehyung has fully swiveled his stool so that he’s facing Jeongguk now, his foot stuck in the rungs of Jeongguk’s stool to keep it from swinging back. It forces Jeongguk’s chair to face him as well, not that he’s complaining.
“How’s it been otherwise? How have the past few years been for you?” Taehyung asks.
Jeongguk tries to gauge his expression to get a feeling for how genuine the question is. He can’t get a read on him. Taehyung’s wearing that same amused smile.
“You want to know that?” Jeongguk asks.
Taehyung laughs, “Yeah, I’m curious. You’re someone I saw everyday, and then I just didn’t see you again.” His smile drops, and he gives Jeongguk a knowing look, as if his answer to the next question doesn’t matter because he already knows it. “Aren’t you curious, too?”
“I am,” Jeongguk answers easily. Taehyung’s not stupid, so he must know that much by now. “I guess, I wasn’t sure if you were.”
“Don’t give me that. You wanted me to be.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he says it. He’s not saying something he knows, but something he’s demanding Jeongguk admit. Bossy, just how Jeongguk remembers.
“I did.” It’s another easy admission. He takes a swig of his drink. “Okay, well, let’s see. The past few years have been good. It was a hard adjustment learning another language, and I didn’t know anybody, but the team’s been really helpful. I finally feel like I found a place where I fit in.”
It’s true. This experience has been good, probably even better than he thought it would be. Still, it’s not the whole story. He won’t tell Taehyung about the loneliness that grips him so frequently, about the anxiety and listlessness. Maybe, he never will, and he can forever exist in Taehyung’s mind as this person. Taehyung had told him that their breakup should be worth it, and Jeongguk wants him to think that it was. It’s too late to backtrack now.
“Are you going to stay with Padova next season?” Taehyung asks.
“I am,” Jeongguk answers easily before he remembers it’s supposed to be a secret. He rushes, “Don’t tell anyone I said that. That’s breaking news for the tabloids.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Taehyung promises.
Taehyung swirls the ice in his cup more, and Jeongguk knows that’s his cue to ask Taehyung about himself now. He looks back at their table, somewhat obscured by a half-wall separating the bar from the dining area, but he catches a glimpse of Seokjin. He’s laughing at something someone said. It looks like they’re getting on okay without them. What’s a few more minutes spent over here, catching up with Taehyung?
Jeongguk looks back at Taehyung. “What about you?”
Taehyung shrugs as he drinks some of his whiskey through the straw. “Milano’s good, but there’s better. If I get a better offer next year, I’ll take it.”
Jeongguk thought somewhat similarly his first year, but he ended up clicking with Padova. They pay him well enough to keep his eye from straying. If Matteo ever left, he might be tempted to as well, but that won’t happen anytime soon. It’s a weird feeling for him, though, to have settled in somewhere and not have any intention of leaving. His whole life, he’s been on the run. All that’s left for him to do now is maintain, but to what end? He hasn’t figured that part out yet.
Jeongguk only nods to convey his understanding. He asks, “And, the national team? How’s that going?”
“Well, they don’t pay much,” Taehyung laughs. His smile is genuine. “But, it’s good. Great, even.”
“I watched the last VNL. You did really well,” Jeongguk compliments. Really, he’s underselling how well Taehyung did, and he could say more. Taehyung knows he played well, though, so he won’t say more than that. The USA national team got bronze, and Taehyung set the whole time.
Taehyung gives him a smug smile. “Isn’t it crazy that we’re talking about our professional teams now? We just played against each other on a big, international stage…And, I beat you.”
Jeongguk holds up his drink with a snort. “I’ll drink to that.”
They clink glasses and take a drink, polishing off what’s left in both of their cups. Jeongguk signals the bartender to pour them two more.
“Okay, weird question, but actually a great question,” Jeongguk says as he turns back to Taehyung. He rests his elbow on the bartop and holds his chin up with his hand. “Did you meet Ran?”
Taehyung raises his eyebrows as he asks, “Did you not?”
“How could I?” Jeongguk whines. The alcohol is hitting him now. “He left Italy for Japan as soon as I came, and I don’t play for the national team. It’s starting to feel personal. I should’ve met him by now.”
‘Well, when you come to the national team you can meet him,” Taehyung offers. He offers the bartender a thank you as he places two new drinks in front of them.
Jeongguk doesn’t reach for his glass and instead stares at Taehyung, slack-jawed and speechless. Although it doesn’t show on his face, Jeongguk is screaming internally. He said when, not if. Does he want to play on the same team as him again? Does he know about the national team’s offer? Is he expecting Jeongguk to accept it?
Taehyung seems to know what he said if his sly smirk is anything to go by. He grabs his straw from the empty glass and licks the moisture off the bottom of it before popping it in his new glass. Jeongguk watches his tongue, his lips. Taehyung meets his eyes as he pulls it out of his mouth, slow and teasing with the movement. When he pulls his eyes away, Jeongguk snaps back into himself. He’s had too many drinks to look at Taehyung’s lips and then emotionally regulate.
What were they talking about again? Oh, Ran Takahashi. Jeongguk asks, trying to appear unbothered, “So you totally did meet him.”
Taehyung nods. “You’re the same height. He’s pretty cute, really nice. He jumps high, too, just like you. You’re harder to block, though.”
“You’re being so nice right now,” Jeongguk says with a roll of his eyes. “Thanks, but, I’m not harder to block than Ran Takahashi. He’s, like, perfect.”
Taehyung scoffs. “I’m not being nice.” He leans in a little, only a slight shift as he gets more comfortable, but the change in distance feels near-tangible to Jeongguk. “I told you back then, too, that you’re better than him. Also, you should trust by now that I’d tell you if you sucked.”
“Yeah, you would.”’ Jeongguk’s voice is quiet, and his eyes are locked to Taehyung’s. He palms blindly for his drink which he knows is somewhere on the counter. When he grabs the cold glass, he pulls it up to his lips and manages to close his eyes while he takes a deep sip.
“Exactly. You’re cuter and nicer than him, too,” Taehyung says, matching Jeongguk’s quiet tone. It forces Jeongguk’s eyes to snap open again. Fuck, did Taehyung get even closer? “Really, I’m glad I’m sitting with you here tonight and not Ran Takahashi.”
He says it like he means it, and Jeongguk finds it funny in an unbelievable sort of way. He laughs breathily as he responds, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but me too.”
Jeongguk can’t tell if Taehyung’s flirting with him or not. His body language, the things he’s saying, and the way he’s saying it all feels flirty. He’s drunk a bit already, though, so it may just be his imagination. If Taehyung’s not flirting, Jeongguk wonders if he acts this way with everyone. He must have the whole world wrapped around his finger if that’s the case. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker to his lips again as the light catches the barest hint of moisture on them. After Jeongguk left, did he buy his own cherry chapstick? Does he still wear it?
“Do you want to come over?” Taehyung asks. Jeongguk’s eyes snap from his lips, and he blushes as if he just got caught.
Wait, what did Taehyung just ask him?
“To fuck?” Jeongguk responds without thinking. His blush deepens as soon as the words leave his mouth. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with him?
Taehyung openly gapes at him for a moment, before huffing a surprised and delighted laugh. It’s not awkward, but happy in a stunned way. He picks up Jeongguk’s drink and slides off the stool.
“To finish your drink,” he says, smiling.
“Right now?” Jeongguk asks because he can’t stop saying stupid things for some reason.
“After dinner,” Taehyung answers with another laugh. “The guys want to go to a club. We could slip away for a bit.”
Jeongguk should say no, but there isn’t a world in which that’s a possibility. He’s told Taehyung no enough in the time they’ve known each other. This time, he wants to say yes.
“Okay.”
Taehyung gives him a little smile, that laughter still lingering in his eyes, and he walks back to the table. Jeongguk follows him, simultaneously uncertain and giddy. He’s embarrassed that he’s done anything but think before he speaks throughout this conversation, but Taehyung seemed to like it. Maybe, that’s something he’s always liked about him. Still, asking if he wanted to fuck may be one of the craziest things he’s ever said. Jeongguk almost feels possessed, and he doesn’t think it’s his fault.
Taehyung’s being insanely forward, and Jeongguk is so into it that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s better to lean into it, to follow Taehyung’s lead and let him do whatever he wants with him. When they were together, it was normal for Taehyung to be forward with him. Now that he’s on the other side of it, though, he wonders if this is how other people feel when they talk to Taehyung, as if they’re being mind controlled.
Jimin shoots Jeongguk a glare as he and Taehyung approach the table. Jeongguk holds up his hands and shrugs as if to say he has no idea what’s happening either. Jimin’s glare doesn’t soften, but he looks away to pick his conversation with the rest of the group back up. Jeongguk sits down and gets roped into the conversation as well. Finally, he feels like he’s enjoying himself. They finish dinner on a comfortable note, all of them settling back into place.
They walk out of the restaurant drunk, full, and ready to dance. Jeongguk waves down a taxi for them, a van they can all pile into. Hoseok and Taehyung get into the back-most seats. Hoseok almost immediately passes out. He got a little too drunk, but he promised that all he needed was a nap in the car and then he’d rally. Yoongi tries to climb in to join them, but before Jeongguk can make a better decision, he grabs Yoongi by the back of his shirt and pulls him back so he can get in before him.
Taehyung scoots to the middle seat as Jeongguk collapses next to him. It’s a tight space, too tight, really. The sides of their bodies press together, and Jeongguk feels it the most on his thigh where it feels as if the heat off Taehyung is seeping into his jeans. After accidentally elbowing him while trying to get adjusted, Jeongguk swings an arm over the back of the seat and, coincidentally, Taehyung’s neck.
“I was hoping you’d sit next to me,” Taehyung whispers, quiet enough that no one else can hear it.
Jeongguk tries to swallow his smile, but it peeks through as the corners of his lips raise. Taehyung probably doesn’t mean it. They’re drunk and high off the moment of a long-overdue reunion. It’s a good night, so he’s in a good mood. Regardless of that reminder, though, he can’t help but feel smitten.
Jeongguk whispers in response, “I wanted to, but now I kinda regret it. It’s really cramped back here.”
Taehyung doesn’t reply for a few seconds, and then he laughs.
“What?” Jeongguk asks.
Taehyung looks away from him. If Jeongguk didn’t know him any better, he’d think he was feeling shy. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You were thinking it, so you should say it.”
Taehyung smiles softly, the way he used to. Jeongguk melts at the sight of it. He decides to stop thinking any of this is stupid, stop thinking about all the things he should and shouldn’t do. Anything Taehyung wants, Jeongguk will give it to him.
As they drive through the city, Jeongguk tries to take in the sights, but his eyes keep wandering back to Taehyung, to that soft and contemplative expression that he’s always loved so much. When they were together, Jeongguk would ask him what he was thinking, and Taehyung would usually say he was thinking about how cute Jeongguk looked. If he asked him now, what would his answer be?
Taehyung leans over him, balancing himself by placing a hand on Jeongguk’s knee and pressing down on it as he points out the window.
“That’s the Milan Cathedral,” Taehyung says. “It’s the largest church in Italy, and it took them six-hundred years to complete. They do tours on the rooftop. I heard it’s the most beautiful at sunset.”
Jeongguk wants to look, but he doesn’t. His eyes stay locked on the side of Taehyung’s face, and all he can focus on is the weight of Taehyung’s hand on his leg. Taehyung rolls the window down halfway and then turns to look at Jeongguk, meeting his gaze. The wind blows his hair until it isn’t framing his face perfectly anymore, and the street-lamp glow moves across his face, again and again, catching the light in his eyes and the wetness of his lips. Jeongguk can feel Taehyung’s breath hitting him stronger than the wind whipping at his hair.
“I really want to go,” Taehyung says, so close he might as well be speaking the words into Jeongguk’s mouth.
He turns away and looks back out the window. Jeongguk’s response is quiet, so quiet. “Then, let’s go.”
“What?” Taehyung asks, turning back. He didn’t hear him.
“I said that you should go,” Jeongguk says, speaking at a normal volume now.
“Maybe.” Taehyung shrugs. He rolls up the window and falls into his seat, pulling his hand back into his own lap. “It feels like a romantic thing, and I don’t want to go alone.”
Jeongguk bites his tongue. Hard.
He manages to ask, “There’s nobody that you’d want to take with you?”
“Hm, maybe. You?”
“No.” Jeongguk’s response is immediate. Taehyung raises a brow in question, and Jeongguk rapidly tries to think of a reasonable excuse, something that doesn’t make him look pathetic. He settles on, “I mean, I just found out about the rooftop. I’d have to think about it.”
Taehyung’s been smiling at Jeongguk like he knows something he doesn’t all night. It feels teasing, but not in a bad way, almost as if he’s trying to push Jeongguk’s buttons on purpose. Jeongguk is into that, though, and Taehyung is intimately aware of this.
He keeps that smile on his face as he asks, “You have a lot of options, then?”
“Not as many as you’d think,” Jeongguk answers slowly, trying to be as vague as possible.
Taehyung’s never been able to stomach ambiguity, though. He asks, “How many do I think?”
With a sigh, Jeongguk admits, “I’m not dating anybody if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I didn’t ask,” Taehyung says simply. He looks straight ahead, but his eyes peer over at Jeongguk again as he whispers for just them to hear, “But, good to know.”
If Jeongguk could short-circuit, he would be. He has no idea what’s going on. He presses his head against the window and focuses on breathing. Taehyung knows he’s a horny drunk, so he probably knows what he’s doing to him. Whatever happens, Jeongguk can’t get hard right now. Unfortunately, the only thing that’s physically grounding at the moment is Taehyung’s thigh pressed against his own, which is the opposite of helpful for his current predicament.
When they get to the club, Jeongguk practically explodes from the car. He runs up to Jimin as he gets out as well.
“Tell me about what flowers you want at your wedding,” he demands.
Jimin begins a lengthy lecture concerning the various floral arrangements he’s interested in and why, just like Jeongguk expected he would. It’s the driest conversation he’s ever been part of, and it’s exactly what he needs. His arousal lessens and lessens as Jimin drags on. While they’re talking, Taehyung shakes Hoseok awake. Hoseok also explodes out of the car, although his exit is more excited than anxious. It’s the best rally Jeongguk’s ever seen.
They all cheer him on as they walk up to the entrance. They get in the VIP line thanks to Seokjin and Taehyung’s connections. A few paparazzi are outside the place, snapping pictures of them as they walk in. That will for sure be in the news tomorrow, and his mom will definitely call him about it. She always keeps up with his news, although she doesn't call him about all of the headlines she sees. A headline about him and Taehyung will be sure to draw her attention.
They’re ushered into the club quickly where they’re then led to their private table. A couple shot girls come around and drink with them before bringing them a bottle. After getting even more drunk, they hit the dance floor. Hoseok and Jimin are so wasted that they’re millennial-white-girl dancing with their arms over their heads. At some point, a dance circle forms around Seokjin, and he impresses everyone with the world's greatest cabbage patch. Yoongi tries to join in, but it quickly devolves into a dance battle which then devolves into what can only be described as a dance fight.
Taehyung and Jeongguk linger next to each other, passively dancing as various people approach him for pictures. Once he’s sure he’s taken a picture with almost everyone in the club, his eyes find Taehyung again. He’s standing close to him, only a foot or two away. A girl is talking to him excitedly, holding up her phone. He nods his head, but he looks uncertain as he does. Jeongguk can clearly see him mouthing the word sure.
As she passes her phone to her friend and stands next to him, Taehyung reaches out and grabs Jeongguk’s arm, pulling him into it. Jeongguk doesn’t resist it.
Taehyung says to the girl, yelling over the music, “I figured you should get the two-for-one deal. Do you know Jeongguk?”
She absolutely beams. “This is the best night of my life!”
Taehyung leans in and says into Jeongguk’s ear, “Play along. You know, since we talk all the time.”
Jeongguk laughs and nods his head. They look at the camera and smile. The girl thanks them a few times and once they give her permission to post the photo, she dashes away happily. Jeongguk gestures his head toward the table and Taehyung nods.
He yells at their friends, “We’re going to take a breather.”
When they sit back at their table, their friends quickly pile in after them. Jeongguk leans into Taehyung so he can hear him. “There are going to be so many articles about us tomorrow.”
It was something of an open secret that they were dating in college, and Jeongguk wonders how many of the articles will focus on that angle. The thought doesn’t bum him out as much as it usually would.
“As long as I look good in the photos…” Taehyung jokes.
Jeongguk laughs, and they fall into a usual banter with their friends. As they sit there, rating Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s performances, Jeongguk checks the time on his watch. It’s getting late. He wonders when they’re going to leave to do whatever it is they’re going to do at Taehyung’s place.
Once Seokjin’s declared the winner of the dance fight, Taehyung stands up. “I’m gonna go find somebody to dance with.”
Jeongguk’s eyes widen and then drop. Maybe they’re not going back to his place. Taehyung taps him on the shoulder, though, and gives him a pointed look. Oh, Jeongguk gets it. He stands as well.
“And, I am also going to find somebody to dance with.”
No one looks up or appears to be listening to them. They’re all arguing with Yoongi about why he lost to Seokjin.
“I don’t think they care,” Taehyung laughs.
“Good. Let’s go.”
The crowd is daunting as they try to make their way through it. Well, Jeongguk tries. Taehyung is making expert work of it. It seems that everyone is intent on bumping into him or cutting him off. A group of girls fully stop him, clinging to his arms. One of them holds out her phone and starts taking pictures without asking. Jeongguk holds up his hand to try to block the phone camera, but someone suddenly grabs it and pulls him away. He gives Taehyung a grateful smile as he tugs Jeongguk into him.
“You guys are fucking weird!” Taehyung yells at the girls before dragging Jeongguk the rest of the way through the crowd.
Jeongguk laughs as they walk, as he reminisces on all the times Taehyung stood up for him just like that. It’s crazy how some things have snapped back into place. What hasn’t changed about them, between them, feels so much bigger than what has. Taehyung will always defend him. It’s something Jeongguk knows for sure now.
They leave the club out of a back exit and step into an alley. A black car is already there and waiting for them. Jeongguk whistles as he looks at it. Now that’s the kind of car that rich people get chauffeured in.
“I called for the car ten minutes ago,” Taehyung says.
Instead of letting go of his hand, Taehyung tries to pull him to the car. He manages to drag him a couple steps before Jeongguk plants his heels in the ground. When Taehyhung turns back to look at him, Jeongguk is breathless and grinning.
“Tae, wait,” he laughs as he pulls him back. Taehyung’s eyes widen as Jeongguk says his nickname. “What are we doing? Sneaking out of the club through a back alley, going back to your place in the middle of the night?”
Taehyung takes one step closer to him even after Jeongguk’s stops pulling. “We’re having fun, catching up, whatever you want to call it. It’s too loud to talk at the club, and I want to keep talking to you.”
Jeongguk spares a glance back at the door. “What if the guys notice?”
“We’ll come back, and they won’t,” Taehyung assures him. He looks down at their hands, still holding onto each other. He pulls his hand away slowly. “We’re dancing with other people right now, remember? Now, let’s go.”
Jeongguk misses the warmth of his hand, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He wonders if that’s all they’ll do, talk and nothing else. That would be for the best, and it’d be nice to catch up some more. If they do have sex, he’s worried he’ll be in over his head.
They get into the car. Jeongguk pulls out his phone to text Matteo.
—
Teo
Jeongguk: Hey, remember how I said
I’d join you at the hotel bar? I can’t.
Teo: :( wtf. i told everyone you’d
be here, and now i look like a jackass
Jeongguk: Something came up…
Teo: what? what are you doing?
Jeongguk: I honestly don’t know. I’ll
tell you about it in the morning.
Jeongguk: If I survive it.
Teo: umm ok… bus leaves at 9 i guess
—
Taehyung is looking over his shoulder, and as Jeongguk turns off his phone, he realizes he was subconsciously showing Taehyung his screen. He quickly slides his phone back into his pocket.
“It’s, uh, my mom,” Jeongguk lies, unconvincingly.
Taehyung snorts. “You were going to join your mom at a hotel bar tonight?”
“Okay, not my mom.” Jeongguk always conceded so easily to him on things like this.
“Matteo, right?” Taehyung gives Jeongguk that obnoxious, teasing smile again, the one that sends blood straight to his dick. He says, “Cute that you got a nickname for him. Less cute that it’s similar to mine.”
Jeongguk argues, “His is two syllables, actually, so…it’s different.”
Taehyung turns his body so it’s facing Jeongguk and leans back against the door. He kicks his legs up and throws them over Jeongguk’s lap. Jeongguk swallows deeply as he tries to pretend that doesn’t do something to him.
“It’s literally my name with just with an ‘oh’ sound at the end,” Taehyung argues back smugly.
Jeongguk leans back in his seat as well. He slides a hand under Taehyung’s jeans and rubs small circles on his ankle. “Is this a hill that you’re choosing to die on?”
Taehyung’s eyes flicker to Jeongguk’s hand, smiling. “No, just an observation.”
“Okay, well, everyone calls him Teo, and everyone calls you Tae. I’m just following the crowd.”
“Not everyone calls me Tae.”
Everyone does, but Jeongguk understands what he means, especially as Taehyung’s eyes linger on his fingers, making slow and easy rolls over his ankle. Jeongguk decides to test his luck and glides his hand further up Taehyung’s calf.
“I call you Tae,” he responds.
“You don’t call me anything. I haven’t seen you in three years.”
Jeongguk’s hand stops, and he pulls it away. The smile he gives Jeongguk is more biting than happy. That took a fucking turn. Taehyung keeps his legs propped up on Jeongguk the rest of the way to his place, but they don’t say anything else. Perhaps Jeongguk is supposed to say something, maybe it’s his turn to talk, but he can’t find the words or the motivation to spit them out. Silence is fine. They were comfortable with it once.
The driver parks in front of an unassuming apartment building, standard Italian architecture. When they step into the building, though, Jeongguk’s breath is taken away. They enter into some sort of grand hall, all marble floors and columns. Even the elevators look gorgeous, freshly polished steel with a frame embossed in lines of green and gold. Jeongguk is so invested in looking up at the chandelier that he doesn’t hear the elevator doors open. Taehyung grabs him by his shirt and pulls him into it.
His apartment is on the uppermost floor, a penthouse. Jeongguk tries to guess what it’ll look like as Taehyung unlocks the door. Green, if he had to guess, probably cozy. He hasn’t been in Italy very long, though, so it might still be underwhelming. Taehyung opens the door, and Jeongguk feels as if he’s stepping into a new world. He kicks his shoes off at the door and steps further inside.
One wall is entirely exposed brick. It leads into the living room where a gorgeous fireplace is nestled into the wall. Atop the mantle is a large TV and two wooden vases on either side of it. There’s a large, plush rug on the dark-wood floors and a couch that looks like it’d be heaven to sleep on. It’s all dark, warm woods and browns with pops of color in varying shades of green in the wall decor and throw pillows. It’s remarkably cozy, but in a wealthy way. There are tall bookshelves around the space, all completely filled. A chaise lounge that matches the couch is tucked into a corner between the shelves, a little reading nook. A few books are stacked on the coffee table with bookmarks sticking out of them. At the top of the stack is the Kindle that Jimin got Taehyung for Christmas all those years ago. Jeongguk knew Taehyung liked to read, but he barely had time to do so when they were in school. He’s happy to see that he can spend time on it now.
If Jeongguk hated his apartment before, he absolutely detests it now. If he’d been shown a thousand apartments, he would have been able to guess this was Taehyung’s in a heartbeat. That’s how much love he put into the space, how much of his personality exists in every detail. Jeongguk breathes in deeply, inhaling that familiar woodsy scent. Well, Taehyung is a homebody, so this makes sense for him. Jeongguk tries to read the spines of the books stacked on the coffee table when he notices a magazine sticking out underneath them. He pulls it out; it’s the magazine that featured his recent Calvin Klein spread.
“I think I’m in this magazine,” Jeongguk says, holding it up so Taehyung can see the cover.
“Really?” Taehyung asks, too nonchalant for Jeongguk to tell if he’s feigning ignorance or not. “I’ll have to look.”
Taehyung walks behind the bar that sits on the opposite side of the living room, existing almost in a space of its own. A lit case sits behind the bar, illuminating various bottles in a muted, warm glow.
“What are you feeling? Whiskey, wine, or tequila?” Taehyung asks.
Jeongguk grimaces as he tucks the magazine back where he found it. “A pass on the tequila. You got any good wine?”
“Red or white? I have it all.”
Jeongguk walks around the couch and takes a seat on a bar stool. He rests his elbows on the bar. “Red, dry.”
Taehyung nods as he turns to examine his collection. After a moment’s contemplation, he pulls a bottle out of the wine rack. “How does a 2010 Ornellaia sound?”
Jeongguk has no idea how it sounds. He’s never heard of it. That’s probably a good sign, though. He says, “Expensive. I’ll take it.”
Taehyung laughs and pours Jeongguk a glass. After, he pours himself a glass of white wine.
Jeongguk takes a sip. Fuck, Taehyung can really pick a wine. He takes another sip as he swivels on his chair to look around some more. “Your apartment is beautiful. It makes me want to burn mine to the ground, and I’m not just saying that.”
“I know. It’s a good spot,” Taehyung brags. “Why do you hate yours?”
Jeongguk shrugs. “I’m not in there much, so I haven’t put any effort into it. It’s all just light, bright, pre-furnished bullshit. Everything is smart, too. I call it the iHome.” Taehyung fully giggles at that, and Jeongguk leans over the bar, closer, as he laughs with him. “I thought you’d find that funny.”
Taehyung nods, still smiling. “Nothing smart here, except me. It’s an old building. Let me show you around a little.”
Taehyung gives him a mini tour; mini because it’s not a large apartment. There’s a study filled with even more books, a guest bedroom and bathroom, the kitchen, and then Taehyung leads Jeongguk into his room. Jeongguk fidgets with the hem of his shirt as Taehyung opens the door.
It’s big, obviously the master bedroom. More than any other spot in the apartment, there’s a lot of Taehyung’s personality in the room: knick knacks on the nightstand, a crumpled shirt on the floor, a marble tray covered in jewelry. It all draws Jeongguk’s eye before he finally looks at the bed, the king bed covered in a thick duvet. In the middle of the bed, causing a dent in the duvet, is a sleeping, white cat. In fact, it’s the most beautiful cat Jeongguk’s ever seen. Instead of a traditional collar, she’s wearing pearls which are secured to her neck with a big, pink pow that sits behind her head.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen, then tremble. She’s so perfect. “You have a cat? Is that a cat?”
“What else would she be?” Taehyung asks, laughing.
He walks around the side of the bed and scoops her up. She meows as he jostles her, but she doesn’t fight him. Actually, she begins purring as he pets her head and shoves her face into the crook of Taehyung’s armpit.
“She’s really clingy,” Taehyung says with a soft smile as he looks down at her.
Jeongguk feels like he’s falling apart at the seams. Looking at Taehyung as he pets his cat, a species he was so adamant he hated, Jeongguk once again becomes aware of how much he still loves him. He knows, too, that if it weren’t for him, Taehyung never would have gotten a cat. Maybe, this is one of the ways that Jeongguk lingered in Taehyung’s life, an influence Taehyung wasn’t able to let go of.
“I can’t believe you have a cat.” Jeongguk gapes in clear awe. “If you’d led with that, I wouldn’t have hesitated about coming over.”
“You hesitated?” He asks with a smile. He’s doing that thing again where he’s being dickish and all-knowing.
“Uh, well, yeah.” Jeongguk sits down on the bed. “What’s her name?”
Taehyung sticks his chin out, prissy as he looks at Jeongguk down his nose. “Boo.”
Jeongguk blinks, waiting for Taehyung to finish. When he doesn’t, Jeongguk asks, “Just Boo?”
“Yeah, she’s white like a ghost,” Taehyung explains. “Boo.”
“That’s actually so cute. I can’t even tease you about it like you teased me with Big Mac.” Jeongguk coos, “Hi, Baby Boo.”
He reaches out to pet her head, and she pulls her nose out of Taehyun’s armpit to lean into it, rubbing her cheek against Jeongguk’s palm. Jeongguk would die for this cat.
“Aw, she likes you,” Taehyung says as he looks down at her, speaking with a little bit of a baby voice. “She’s usually shy with other people and only really likes me and Jin.”
Jeongguk takes pride in that. Being liked by Taehyung’s cat is a huge honor. He also takes that to mean that only Taehyung and Seokjin are usually here. That’s good.
“She doesn’t like Mingyu at all,” Taehyung continues.
At that comment, Jeongguk wants to fall to his knees and cry. He won’t, though. Instead, he tries to make Mingyu look bad by making himself look great. “Cats usually like me.”
Taehyung doesn’t disagree with him as he watches on with a soft smile as Jeongguk scratches under Boo’s chin. It suits Taehyung to have a cat like this, so pretty and girly. She’s elegant and well-behaved, and she weirdly looks like Taehyung. Jeongguk supposes in the same way that Big Mac suits him. He couldn’t have any cat other than a crazy one.
With a sigh, Jeongguk pulls his hand back. He says, “I miss Big Mac.”
Taehyung sets Boo down on the bed. She immediately scampers off, and Taehyung sits in her spot. “Me too. Does she still eat her wet food?”
“Yeah. She’ll still only eat that stew, though.” Jeongguk shakes his head disapprovingly, but chuckles because he can’t help but be endeared. That’s one of the parts of Taehyung that lingered in his life: cat stew. He says, “My parents special order it online now because Petco stopped stocking it.”
“She’s still with your parents, then?” Taehyung asks, taking a curious sip of his wine.
“How do you know she’s with my parents?” Jeongguk asks, wondering who was talking about him with Taehyung.
“Jimin told me.” Of course, it would be Jimin. Taehyung continues, “I asked because the initial plan was that she’d stay with me, and I was curious where she went. It’s hard being a child of divorce.”
Jeongguk laughs, a little shocked Taehyung would phrase it like that. “I’m sure she’d agree. She must be so miserable in my parents’ big house, with a backyard and a catio.”
Taehyung smiles, not dickishly this time, but genuinely as he asks, “So, you did it? You bought a house for your parents?”
“Jimin didn’t tell you that?” Jeongguk teases.
“I didn’t ask him about you. I asked about Mackenzie,” Taehyung responds, condescendingly enough that Jeongguk wants to kiss him for it.
Jeongguk chooses to ignore that impulse, and the comment. “Yeah, I did it. They still work despite me telling them they don’t have to, but they work less, and most of their money is being put in their retirement fund. They didn’t have a retirement fund before.”
Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t have a retirement fund.”
“You’re 24 with a trust fund. I think you’re good for now,” Jeongguk laughs.
“You’re looking at my trust fund,” Taehyung says proudly, holding his arms out to gesture at his room. “You think the league paid for my apartment? I probably also would’ve gotten an iHome.”
Jeongguk groans at the mention of his iHome. “It’s bad. One time I got locked out of my house because the power went out.”
Taehyung laughs breathily at that, probably imagining Jeongguk sitting in a dark hallway. Which is exactly how it went down. He was stuck out there for hours.
“Don’t they have user manuals for that, like, troubleshooting?”
“Yeah, but it was inside. I don’t carry that with me,” Jeongguk says. He polishes off the rest of his wine.
Taehyung gives him a warm smile. “Well, I’m happy you got your iHome even if it’s stupid, and everything else. It sounds like you’re doing well. Like, you’re doing everything you always wanted.”
Jeongguk is, and he won’t deny it. He doesn’t know if he’s doing well, though. Not how people think, or think he should be. He doesn’t know if he’s happy. Certainly, he’s been less happy than this. There have been worse days, but he lives with a near-constant regret. Now, he’s here, sitting in the middle of that regret’s apartment.
“You seem like you’re doing well, too,” Jeongguk deflects the conversation away from himself. “I, um, I always thought you might continue with volleyball, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Does it make you feel better that I’m doing well?” Taehyung asks, ruining Jeongguk’s attempt at deflection.
“What makes you think I felt bad?”
“Because you’re you,” Taehyung answers simply. He also finishes his wine. “You can make millions, and move across the world, but you’re still you.”
“I guess so,” Jeongguk agrees quietly. He stares down into his empty glass and says, “Yeah, it makes me feel better.”
It’s the truth. Perhaps the only thing that could make him feel better about all this is seeing that Taehyung is doing well without him. He is, so there shouldn’t be anything left to regret. Having seen all this, he should be able to move on. But, he can’t because his heart is still skipping beats when they make eye contact, because he agreed to come back to Taehyung’s just to talk, because he whispered to Taehyung that he wanted to take him to that cathedral in the car, because he was sad when Taehyung didn’t hear him. Because even if seeing him doing well makes him feel better, he still wishes that they were doing well next to each other—with each other.
It’s a ship that’s long sailed. The regret lingers because he wishes that it hadn’t.
“You don’t look like you mean that,” Taehyung says, and although his smile isn’t dickish this time, it’s still all-knowing.
“I do,” Jeongguk says. He clears his throat. “You’re right, I got everything I wanted. This is what I wanted for you, so why shouldn’t I feel good about it?”
Taehyung giggles, “You’re still a liar, then. Some things really do never change.”
Even if Jeongguk had all the time in the world, he couldn’t think enough before responding to that. He stands off the bed. “I’m going to get more wine.”
Taehyung hops up and swipes Jeongguk’s glass from him. “I was kidding, relax. You’re the guest, so I’ll go get it.”
He leaves, and Jeongguk is left reeling in his absence. He could get caught up in it, this game of hot and cold they’re playing, the way Taehyung is saying such devastating things with so much levity, or he could distract himself. Jeongguk opts to distract himself.
There are two doors in Taehyung’s room that he hasn't been shown yet. The first one he opens leads into the master bath which is remarkably similar to the guest bath. Jeongguk closes the door and opens the other one. It opens to the most stunning closet he’s ever seen, so spacious that it’s practically another bedroom. Taehyung’s clothes, accessories, shoes, and jewelry are all sorted and organized gorgeously. Jeongguk takes a step inside and reaches forward to pull out some sort of shiny shirt hanging up when Taehyung’s voice comes from behind him.
“You’re a bad guest.”
Jeongguk startles and pulls his hand back. Taehyung passes him his refilled glass while Jeongguk retorts, “Not bad, just nosy.”
“I’m not mad,” Taehyung says. He takes a sip of his wine as his expression drops into something a bit more serious. “About you being nosy and everything else.”
“Oh,” Jeongguk says. He touches his chest, the warmth there. They stand in silence for a moment while Jeongguk thinks of what to say, and Taehyung allows him the space to do so. Finally Jeongguk says, “Good to know. It’d be okay if you were, though. You could tell me.”
Taehyhung leans against the doorframe and shakes his head with a small smile, as if he’s proud he gets to tell Jeongguk this now. “I let go of that a long time ago.”
Jeongguk’s well and truly at a loss now. It’s nice that one of them was able to let go of things. He always knew Taehyung would eventually, that he’d be fine. In the same way that he knew he wouldn’t be. It’s one thing to face that thought in his mind and another thing to see it play out in front of him. To look at the man he’ll never stop loving as he tells him he’s no longer angry that he left. When the anger left, did the love go, too?
“Things happen. We move on,” Taehyung says after Jeongguk is silent for too long. “It’s the same for you, right?”
Because some things never change, Jeongguk lies again, “Yeah, totally.”
Taehyung gives him that knowing smile again, and Jeongguk wants to die. He should stop asking Jeongguk questions if he already knows the answers. Jeongguk takes a sip of his wine only because it’s something to do, but he barely tastes it, too caught up in Taehyung’s gaze, the way he looks at him like he can read him down to every synapse, every thought in his head, every memory and feeling.
Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath when Taehyung pushes himself off the doorframe and takes a step toward him. Jeongguk exhales easily when Taehyung asks, “You want to watch Cake Boss?”
Jeongguk bursts into laughter at the question. The tension between them doesn’t disappear but it fizzles with something lighter and easier to withstand. “You invited me here to watch TV?”
“I don’t know why I invited you over,” Taehyung laughs as well. “I think I just wanted to talk to you.”
“You told me to never talk to you again,” Jeongguk says before he can remind himself to think before he speaks. He regrets the words immediately as he thinks of a thousand better way he could have responded.
Taehyung huffs a laugh, a singular and contemplative ha. He takes a step back and leans against the doorframe once again. “Well, what’s one night after three years? Pretty negligible, don’t you think?”
Jeongguk doesn’t want to be negligible, and Taehyung will never—can never—be negligible to him. He knows it, too.
Taehyung continues, “This time next year, we’ll have forgotten this day even happened. You’re going to get on your bus home tomorrow, and then we can go back to not talking.”
It’s a bleak thought for Jeongguk, one he’d rather not indulge. So, he doesn’t indulge it, and he smiles. “Well, if we’re going to pretend today never happened, I don’t know that I want to watch Cake Boss.”
Taehyung smiles, and it’s almost predatory as if he finally got him where he wants him. Maybe, the cat and mouse game wasn’t reserved only for the court. Jeongguk may have been prey this whole time.
“Come here,” Taehyung demands, his voice deep. He’s only a few steps away, and Jeongguk bridges the gap. “If you don’t want to watch Cake Boss, does you previous offer still stand?” Taehyung asks, looking him up and down and reaching out a hand to untuck Jeongguk’s shirt.
“What?” Jeongguk asks, his eyes snapping down to Taehyung’s hand, slowly pulling his shirt out of his waistband.
“Maybe, it would be better to do something worth forgetting.”
When he gets his shirt untucked, Taehyung gets his hand underneath and drags his finger in a line across Jeongguk’s stomach, right over his jeans. He’s talking about Jeongguk’s previous offer to fuck. Jeongguk wants to, and he wants to, and that desire continues so far and deep within him it feels unending. Anyway he can have him, he wants him.
But…Jeongguk takes a step back. His voice is gruff as he says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Taehyung seems only mildly disappointed. With a shrug, he turns around, “Okay.”
It’s his nonchalance that rattles Jeongguk’s resolve. He throws back the rest of his wine and drops the glass on the floor as he steps forward. “Fuck it.”
It takes him less than a second to make probably the stupidest decision he’s made all night: Jeongguk kisses him. Before Taehyung can fully turn around, before he can change his mind, Jeongguk grabs his arm and pulls him in, knowing this was as inevitable as it is dangerous. Despite him initiating the kiss, Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat as soon as they touch. Is this really happening right now?
Taehyung’s wine glass also clatters to the floor as his hand finds the side of his face, fingers brushing against his jaw, and the warmth of that touch sends Jeongguk reeling. Even as his socks get wet from the spilled wine, he leans into it, eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself fall into the kiss, into the sensation of being so close to someone he wanted for so long. His fingers twitch, hands almost trembling in his need to hold him. He doesn’t. His arms hang limply at his sides as he lets Taehyung touch him.
Like live wire connecting them, a jolt of electricity shoots through him, sparking from his skin and igniting something deep in his chest. Jeongguk knows he should put it out. This feeling between them isn’t real, and he shouldn’t let it get to him. How could he not, though? When Taehyung licks into his mouth, when his hands push under his shirt and grip him tighter, how could he feel nothing? He tastes exactly how Jeongguk remembers, sweet like that cherry chapstick they’d share.
“Tae,” Jeongguk breathes out, pulling away for a moment so his brain can catch up with his pounding heart.
There’s that look again, the one that’s been driving him crazy all night. Taehyung blinks slowly, his pretty lips twisting in a subtle smile. There’s a shyness in the way he averts his gaze, like he’s letting a little vulnerability show through, but the curve of his lips and the way his fingers play with the hem of Jeongguk’s shirt tell him this is intentional. Taehyung is teasing, and Jeongguk takes the bait easily.
“Touch me,” Taehyung says softly, so soft Jeongguk would’ve missed it if he wasn’t hanging off every word. “Please?”
Jeongguk’s fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the pull to reach out, to close the space between them, to break whatever game Taehyung is playing. Will he really let him win everything tonight? His head tilts slightly in question, gaze never leaving Jeongguk. The same teasing smile plays at his lips, one that lets him know Taehyung is in control. He knows exactly what he’s doing to him.
There’s no point in putting up a fight. It’s a battle Jeongguk knows he’s going to lose. He knew when he saw Taehyung today, when he agreed to come back with him. His hand finds its way to Taehyung’s wrist, just a soft brush of fingers over his pulse. This may not be what he meant, but he lets Jeongguk’s touch linger there.
He looks down where Jeongguk is holding him with a curious glance, at the hand that’s still under his shirt. He’s waiting. Jeongguk feels a wave of something rush over him, something equal parts nervousness and thrill. Touching Taehyung always felt like this. Like he was on the verge of something powerful, something uncontrollable.
“Are you shy?” Taehyung asks, a little surprised. He laughs cutely, and the sound shocks Jeongguk. Before he can respond, Taehyung gently pries his wrist from his hold and cups him through his jeans. “What about now?”
For once, he tries to shut his brain off and think with his dick. It’s an easy feeling to give into with a hand working over him, especially with the way Taehyung is looking at him, so amused by him. Jeongguk should feel humiliated by it, feel it chip at his pride, but it has the opposite effect. Even now, his natural reaction is to be puppetered at Taehyung’s whim.
Jeongguk grabs the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. His skin is warm, and his pulse beats wildly beneath his fingertips. It only fuels his desire. Taehyung’s lips part as his eyes fall nearly shut. Jeongguk stares at him a second longer, at his perfectly placed moles and cute nose that he’s missed so much. Before he does something stupid like tell him how much he loves him, he pulls him in for a bruising kiss.
His confidence comes back in full swing as Taehyung gasps into it. Jeongguk touches him now, hands gripping under clothes wherever he can reach. His jeans are too tight for him to sneak a hand under, but he still gets a handful of his ass over them, nearly weeping when he finds that it’s still as perfectly soft and plush as it’s always been.
“I want you,” Jeongguk whispers softly when they separate. In the second that Taehyung doesn’t respond, Jeongguk gets too in his head about how he could interpret that so he quickly adds, “I want to fuck you.”
Taehyung gives him a cute smile and quick peck that’s over too fast before he can return it and he steps away from him completely. Instinctively, Jeongguk trails after him out of the closet and into the bedroom, watching closely as Taehyung starts shedding his clothes. When he drags his shirt over his head, the muscles of his back move beneath the skin. There is something mesmerizing about the way Taehyung moves. His frame is slender, all long lines and angles, but beneath that graceful exterior is a strength that makes Jeongguk’s dick hard. Jeongguk’s eyes trace the smooth curve of Taehyung’s arms, the way his shoulders taper down to his narrow waist, down the lean lines of his legs.
“Where are you going?” Jeongguk asks a little breathlessly.
Taehyung tosses his shirt on the floor, throwing him a glance over his shoulder. “The door. I don’t want Boo to come in.”
Right. Boo can’t be in here because they’re going to fuck. Holy shit, Jeongguk can’t believe this is actually happening. Taehyung closes the door shut and leans on it, and now he’s left there to deal with the consequences of his decisions. Well, he’s here now, and he’s not going to tuck his tail between his legs and act like he regrets it. He’ll worry about the fallout later.
“Come here,” Jeongguk beckons, holding out his hand.
Taehyung steps over and takes it, letting himself be pulled into another kiss. It’s different from before, less urgent, more careful. They’ve kissed three times tonight, and each catches Jeongguk by surprise; a stutter in his chest, a flutter in his stomach, a happiness he can’t describe. This fleeting, fragile moment is all Jeongguk has. He’s a little tipsy and in love, so he’s not going to bother making rational decisions right now. All he wants is Taehyung.
His lips sting where Taehyung bites them, but he soothes it over with more kisses. Strangely, intimacy feels easier than talking. He may not know what to say to him, but Jeongguk knows where to touch, how to kiss him until Taehyung’s gasping into his mouth. He’s done this enough times in the past to remember. Jeongguk hugs him tighter, splaying a hand on his back to keep him there. Suddenly, Taehyung pulls back with a small laugh.
Jeongguk looks at him. His cheeks are flushed, spit-slicked lips pulled into a smile. It amazes him how, even now, Taehyung can look at him with those dark eyes and make him feel like he’s the only person that matters. Jeongguk falls for it without a second of doubt, and it must be written all over his face. How desperately he wishes to be wanted, too.
Taehyung runs a thumb over his piercing, and Jeongguk catches it between his lips playfully. “Take your pants off,” he whispers.
At the same time Jeongguk steps away to take his clothes off, Taehyung does the same, quickly getting out of his pants. For a brief second Jeongguk wishes he could’ve done it for him, but then he throws himself over the bed and Jeongguk forgets anything that isn’t Taehyung’s naked body. That’s probably for the best, anyway. He could’ve spent all night unwrapping him like a present, touching and kissing where his fingers brush.
“Lube?” Jeongguk asks, voice tight as he watches Taehyung arrange himself on his hands and knees.
Taehyung leans over the bed to dig through his nightstand, pulling out a condom and lube bottle. Jeongguk tries to focus on how his body looks from this angle and not how the bottle is half empty or how there’s condoms missing from the pack. It shouldn’t matter, and it certainly shouldn’t hurt. He sleeps with people too.
He kneels behind him, taking the condom and lube from him. Taehyung meets him halfway, pushing his ass against him. Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath when his cock touches soft skin, stopping him from grinding back with a tight grip on his thigh. His hand trails up, gripping and kneading the flesh so hard Taehyung spreads open.
“Yeah, there,” Taehyung sighs softly as he drops his shoulders on the bed. Like this, Jeongguk can’t see his face. Maybe that’s for the best.
As he runs a dry finger over Taehyung’s asshole, he reminds himself that this is just sex. When he adds lube, Jeongguk wills himself to forget the sight of his arched back, the sound of his sweet whines and the warmth around his fingers. Taehyung opens up easily, and Jeongguk almost wishes he didn’t know his body, that it took him longer to figure out where to touch. Tomorrow, their lives will be absent from each other again. After all, this is something they’re supposed to forget.
“Another?” Jeongguk asks softly, running a hand down Taehyung’s back and rocking him back on his fingers.
“Yeah—Oh!” Taehyung’s reply is cut off by a sharp moan when Jeongguk adds a third finger.
Well, if they’re supposed to forget about this tomorrow, then Jeongguk should give him something worth forgetting. He reaches around to grip Taehyung’s cock.
“You were teasing me earlier, at the bar,” Jeongguk says quietly, stroking his cock slowly, too slow for it to take the edge off. He can tease too.
Taehyung finally turns to look at him over his shoulder. His eyes are glossy and wet, hazy as he pulls his lips into a pout. Really, he looks so fucking cute like this. Taehyung can be a little demanding, but he’s soft and pliant when touched how he likes. Jeongguk has always loved the push and pull, the mean teasing and sweet begging.
“What?”
“The flirting, the staring, inviting me over…You wanted me to want you,” Jeongguk tsks. He gives a mean curl of his fingers, but Taehyung pushes back into it, never the one to shy away.
He laughs a little breathlessly, lashes fluttering as their eyes meet. Jeongguk stares so intensely he thinks his heartbeat matches the rhythm of his blinks. “Well, you wanted me anyway. Don’t put that on me.”
Is Jeongguk supposed to tell him he’s wrong? If he was going to lie, he should’ve done that back when Taehyung asked him to come over, not now when he’s knuckle-deep inside him. He’s the one who brought sex to the table, after all. Sure, it slipped out, but what’s that if not subconscious? There isn’t a world in which he doesn’t want to sleep with Taehyung.
“It’s okay. I wanted you, too.” Taehyung drops his shoulders back on the bed, the movement making Jeongguk drop his cock and sit back. He reaches a hand behind him to spread himself open as if to show him where he’s stuffed full. Jeongguk looks, of course he does. “C’mon, then. Take what you want.”
Taehyung says it a little plainly, like he’s the one doing Jeongguk a favor by letting him fuck him. He probably is. Jeongguk almost shoves his cock in raw in his eagerness to please. He doesn’t say it, but Jeongguk can hear it in his voice. Be a good boy. Yeah, he wants to be good for Taehyung. For as long as he can, he’ll be whatever he needs him to be, whatever he wants.
Jeongguk pulls his fingers out and shakily fumbles with the condom, hissing as he slides it on. As he pulls Taehyung’s hips back and lines up, he sends up a little prayer that he doesn’t bust his load as soon as he’s inside him. He doesn’t, but it’s proven harder when Taehyung arches into it, knees falling open wider as he pushes back. Jeongguk moves with him, feeling shaky and all kinds of insane. There’s a part of him that’s still in disbelief of what’s happening, likely the part that’s keeping him tethered to reality.
He knows how Taehyung likes to be fucked, and it doesn’t take him long to find the right angle. He wishes it did, though, so he could stay here longer, listening for tell signs and finding his rhythm. It would last longer, but it wouldn’t feel as good. Jeongguk knows this will be over before he’s ready, but he couldn’t live with himself if he walked out of here letting Taehyung think he’s a lousy fuck.
“Good?” Jeongguk asks, smoothing his hand over Taehyung’s asscheek for leverage.
Taehyung nods frantically into the sheets. “Yeah. Yes, please. Fuck.”
Jeongguk fucks him slow and deep, pulling all the way out then pushing in. Taehyung’s body jumps with the movement, but he holds him down. He grits his teeth and wills his orgasm away, but it’s so hot and tight and Taehyung is moaning so sweetly. Moaning for him. It’s stupid how good this feels. It must be the Taehyung effect, because he’s slept with so many people and it’s never felt like this, like there’s something burning him from within.
He tries to savor it, but he can’t because it feels too fucking good. His hips kick faster, and Taehyung’s breath comes out like a choked moan. Jeongguk tells himself that it’s okay, as long as Taehyung feels good it’s okay. He’s so tight, and he’d be worried he’s hurting him if he didn’t know any better, if he didn’t know Taehyung’s clenching on purpose so Jeongguk can feel good too. The thought overwhelms him until he feels like he might cry over it.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Jeongguk gasps out, breathy and rough. “So good. I want you to come like this, don’t touch yourself.”
He wishes more than anything that he could see Taehyung’s face when he laughs, so he could swallow his breathy giggles and kiss him more. Maybe it’s good that he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how he’d walk away if he did.
“Okay,” his voice comes out whiny. “Whatever you want, Jeongguk.”
His name falling off his pretty lips sounds so foreign at this moment. It’s something he’s wanted to hear for years, but right now, when they’re doing something that’s meant to be forgotten, Jeongguk wants so desperately for Taehyung to call him baby, to pull him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear like he used to. Can Taehyung pretend for a moment? That Jeongguk is his, that he’s someone that’s meant to stay?
Instead of asking him that, though, Jeongguk tightens his grip and thrusts faster. This may be the worst possible time to be crying over spilled milk. This feels amazing too, and it’s enough to soothe the heartache for now. He shifts his hips, and Taehyung’s moan turns into a sob, and Jeongguk forgets that anything is meant to hurt at all.
“Tae,” Jeongguk breathes out, “Taehyung.”
He says his name just to say it, to let it roll off his tongue after keeping it locked away for years. Except, when he calls him this time, Taehyung is there to answer. He looks back at him, and Jeongguk gets lost in it. His big, wet eyes, searching and wanting. Maybe he’s just deluding himself, but he swears he can see it there, that Taehyung wishes to be closer too. Without a second thought, Jeongguk leans forward and grabs his arms, pulling him backward so he’s sitting in his lap.
This angle makes him completely drop down on his cock, and Taehyung’s sharp gasp echoes throughout the room as his head falls back on his shoulder. Jeongguk doesn’t move, lets him adjust as he kisses any skin his lips can reach. His cheek, his neck, his shoulder. He’s so warm Jeongguk feels drunk with it. Like fire spreading through his chest and setting him alight, it sears through his skin down to his bones.
“Tae,” Jeongguk calls for him again, quieter this time.
“Oh, Jeongguk,” Taehyung sighs softly, lifting an arm over his head so he can grip Jeongguk’s hair. It stings, but he lets him.
Jeongguk moves one hand up Taehyung’s chest and the other down his thigh, tracing patterns with his fingers over the tattoo there. His heart is pounding so hard Taehyung must feel it through his back. How it’s trying to escape and run back to him. He kisses him more, gently guiding his head so he can reach his mouth. It’s not a good angle; he kisses cheek more than anything, but Taehyung does his best to lick between his lips and it makes Jeongguk’s heart soar.
“Lean on your hands,” Jeongguk instructs.
He can’t see his face from this angle either, but at least he can touch more of him. When Taehyung leans forward, Jeongguk fucks up into him, holding him still with a steady grip on his hips. He surges forward to kiss the back of his neck, licking and biting and panting because it’s too much for him to focus on one thing. It’s dizzying, overwhelming, the way his body reacts without hesitation, like it’s been waiting for this—waiting for Taehyung.
Taehyung pushes himself back slightly until he’s fully sitting on his knees, and the sound that escapes him is deeply embarrassing when Taehyung starts lifting himself up and down on his cock. Jeongguk moans without reserve now, doing his best to meet him halfway. Whenever they connect, it feels as if he’s striking a match. His fingers tingle where he’s holding him, and he hugs him tighter, so tight Taehyung lifts completely into his lap.
“Yeah, yes, right there. Don’t stop, please,” Taehyung whines some more.
“Tae,” Jeongguk chokes out in response. He means to tell him that he’s close, but he can’t form the words.
Taehyung nods frantically, begging, “I know, me too. Come inside me, please, I wanna feel it.”
It’s so messy and uncoordinated, Jeongguk’s every muscle hurts from trying to keep them both upright. He can’t actually come inside him; there’s a condom separating them. A habit, perhaps. Taehyung always liked it like that, and Jeongguk always liked when he would ask. The moment when it would happen, how hot and wet it would feel inside him, the squelch of the glide as he’d empty his cock. Finger it back inside as Taehyung would come down from his orgasm.
“I’m-”
Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat as that burn zaps through him viciously, an inferno in the pit of his stomach that explodes out of him until he feels that wet heat, but it’s only for him. He feels the condom fill with his cum, and he’s painfully aware of it now that it sticks. Jeongguk’s ears ring from the intensity of his orgasm, and he shakes through it as he uses every ounce of strength to reach for Taehyung’s cock.
As soon as he touches him, Taehyung comes over his fingers. Jeongguk strokes him through it until his hand is pushed away. He presses his forehead against Taehyung’s back as he breathes through it.
“You okay?” Jeongguk asks softly.
“Yeah,” Taehyung laughs. It’s breathy and beautiful and it punches a hole through his chest. He wishes so desperately that he would look at him, but he doesn’t. “Better than okay.”
Jeongguk’s heart is still racing, but it has nothing to do with the sex. Despite his best effort to contain it, every second spent in Taehyung’s vicinity feels like his feelings are rising closer to the surface. Jeongguk is trying—really trying—not to let it show. Taehyung looks at him then, a soft smile overtaking his tired face. He tries to fix his face into something neutral, but he’s completely drained and it’s hard to keep his guard up when Taehyung looks at him like that.
Taehyung’s eyes linger, warm and gentle, not cold and pained how Jeongguk remembers them. Does he feel it too? He can’t tell. He studies Jeongguk’s expression as if he’s searching for something. He tries to smile back, something less tortured than he feels, but his stomach twists in anxiety. Suddenly, Taehyung’s expression drops. The softness, the curiosity, all of it vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn cold and empty, like a door slamming shut.
The realization hits Jeongguk with a crushing force, and he scrambles to pull himself away from Taehyung. He knows. Fuck, of course he does.
“Um, tissue?” Jeongguk asks, his voice caught somewhere between panic and helplessness.
Taehyung reaches for a box of tissues on his nightstand and hands it to him, gaze still blank and voice level. “Here.”
Jeongguk ties the condom off with shaky hands. Thank god he spots a small trash can before he has to ask about that too. When he turns back, Taehyung’s putting a silk robe on, tying it off with hurried hands.
“You should go back,” Taehyung says, so disinterested, so uncaring.
“Now? Alone?” Jeongguk asks. He has half a mind to take a step closer to Taehyung, but he knows better to press his luck. So, he stands there, naked and confused, unmoving as he’s caught between loss and longing. It’s now, the moment that he regrets is now.
“Yeah, just tell them I went home with somebody. We’ve been gone too long,” Taehyung explains.
He pushes his hair back, and when he turns around, Jeongguk sees the droplets of sweat at his hairline. He’s so beautiful. It’s only now that Jeongguk’s had him again, though, that he understands how unattainable Taehyung truly is.
“Would it be that bad if we just went back together?” Jeongguk asks. He’s trying not to sound pathetic, trying to keep his voice from breaking or quieting.
“It’s late,” is Taehyung’s icy response. He begins fluffing his pillows. “I’ll see them tomorrow.”
“You won’t see me tomorrow.”
Pathetic. He sounds so pathetic.
Taehyung pauses and then lets go of the pillow. He smoothes the blanket instead as he says, “Business as usual, then.”
Jeongguk thinks he understands the feeling of crashing to earth now. Perhaps because he hasn’t felt the grief so aggressively in so long, he feels as though this time it’s harder. This time, he had a bit of hope that they could be anything to each other, that at least when Jeongguk left here tonight, Taehyung would smile at him. Even if this were a one-time thing, even if it meant nothing, at least they would smile at the end. This, the cold eyes and dull voice, is what Jeongguk was expecting from him. How unfair that Taehyung would act so warmly before this, slip through Jeongguk’s defenses, and find him at his most vulnerable.
It’s fine. Jeongguk’s throat is tight. This is only what he deserves.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Jeongguk whispers. He won’t pretend to be bigger than his feelings anymore; Taehyung knows them all already.
Jeongguk gets dressed in a rush, grabbing whatever he sees and tugging it on. He opens in the door and stops just short of walking out of it. Jeongguk can’t leave it like this. He turns his shoulders and angles his gaze back toward the bed where Taehyung is now sprawled out under the duvet.
“It really was good to see you,” Jeongguk says, earnest and needing to say it.
There were a lot of things Jeongguk thought Taehyung knew when they were together, too, a lot of things he didn’t say because of it. Whatever Taehyung knows or doesn’t know, whatever he feels or doesn’t feel, Jeongguk was happy to see him tonight. Taehyung should know that much at least.
With a grin, Taehyung says, “Definitely worth forgetting.”
Though it wants to, Jeongguk’s soft smile doesn’t falter. He nods once and leaves without saying anything else. When he steps out of Taehyung’s apartment, his chest rises and falls rapidly as Jeongguk moves as fast as possible down the hall, to the elevator, and out the front door to the building as he struggles to make sense of what the fuck just happened.
He whistles loud enough the whole block can hear him and holds out a hand. A taxi pulls over, and Jeongguk hops in, giving the cabbie the address to the club. He doesn’t know what he was expecting after they slept together. Was he supposed to stay the night and let Taehyung spoon him to sleep like the good old days? Was he going to wake up late from Taehyung shoving his finger in his open mouth? Were they meant to laugh like they used to, shower together like they used to, eat breakfast, and play with the cat, and talk about their plans for the day?
Jeongguk holds his head in his hands. The loss of Taehyung feels new. Fuck, maybe he had made some progress. Sure, he was jaded, tired, lonely, but he wasn’t self-loathing or breaking down in the back of cabs. He wasn’t fucking delusional. But, for a moment, it wasn't a delusion. For a moment, Taehyung looked at him like he meant something to him, like he was happy to see him, too. It would have been better if Jeongguk hadn’t seen that, if he hadn’t thought he had a chance.
If he had a chance, really, he would never walk away from him again. If there’s a chance now, he won’t shy away from it now. This is rock bottom, and if he hadn’t reached it, maybe nothing would ever change. He’d stay here forever, lonely and rotting until the white walls of his apartment blinded him to how tragic his life has really become. This is rock bottom, and Taehyung still cares about him. Somehow, some way, he does.
Jeongguk would be stupid to let that care go to waste. The cabbie drops him off in front of the club, and he steps out of the car feeling more determined than he has in a while. He has a goal again, and just like his first dream of playing professional volleyball in Italy, this one is impossible. Not even he’s convinced that it’s possible, but he’ll do his best. It’s Jeongguk’s turn to chase Taehyung.
He casually approaches the front of the club where he finds Jimin staring worriedly at his phone. He’s alone for some reason.
“Jimin-”
“Jeongguk? Where the fuck were you?” Jimin asks, his head snapping up as soon as Jeongguk says his name. He storms over to him. “Did you see my texts?”
“Oh, um, not exactly,” Jeongguk says, scratching the back of his neck. His phone was vibrating, but he didn’t check it. He had bigger fish to fry. “I was with someone.”
Jimin looks behind him as if that someone would be here now. “Who?” Jeongguk doesn’t answer him fast enough, and maybe it’s the way his eyes dart away from Jimin’s nosy stare that makes it all click. Jimin gasps. “Taehyung?” He pulls at the sleeve of Jeongguk’s T-shirt. “It was Taehyung! This is his shirt. Jeongguk-”
“Okay, yes, fine,” Jeongguk rushes, cutting Jimin off before he can scold him. He looks down at the white shirt, so alike his own. It really is Taehyung’s. “I was with Taehyung. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
Jeongguk looks at the ground. “Yes.”
“Why would you do that to yourself?” Jimin’s voice is soft as he asks the question, not the judgmental tone Jeongguk was expecting.
Jeongguk looks up and offers him a sad smile. “You know why.” Jimin only nods. “On the bright side, it’s not like I made much progress to begin with, so this doesn’t really change anything”
Jimin pulls him into a crushing hug, and it’s only once he feels the wetness on Jimin’s shoulder that he realizes he’s crying. Yes, this is rock bottom, and it’s exactly where he needs to be. So, he wallows in it for a bit, in the heartache of expectations, of hopes he never knew he harbored. He hugs his friend back, and he doesn’t pretend that he’s okay.
“You’re so stupid,” Jimin whispers. Jeongguk agrees, but he doesn’t say as much. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
Jeongguk pulls away from him and wipes his eyes. He asks, “Where’d everyone else go?”
“They went to Jin’s. I was looking for you, you know?”
“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk says, and he means it.
Jimin smiles and bumps into him with his shoulder. “Don’t be. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and laid down.”
Jimin waves a taxi down. They drive back to the hotel in silence, but it’s not loaded or heavy. Granted, Jimin does seem a little angry. His jaw is set in a harsh line as he looks out the window. If he were angry at Jeongguk, though, he would’ve told him already. If Jeongguk had to guess, Jimin’s angry at Taehyung, for what he let happen, for what he made happen. Taehyung was right, after all. Jeongguk hasn’t changed much at all. He knows him; he knew what that would mean to him.
Maybe, Jeongguk should be angry too, but he’s not. He loves him enough to let it happen, and he means it: however Taehyung wants him. Jeongguk would do it again tomorrow, and leave heartbroken all over again, again, and again. Taehyung is his dream now.
They get back to the hotel, and Jeongguk showers first. He smells himself before he gets in the shower, the vanilla that clings to his skin from Taehyung’s sheets. Carefully, he folds Taehyung’s shirt and puts it in his bag, and then he washes the night off of him. Jeongguk no longer smells like Taehyung, and that status quo remains, for now.
While Jimin’s showering, Jeongguk opens his laptop and reads over Tony’s email:
—
—Forwarded Message—
From: Tony Mancini <[email protected]>
Subject: USA Men’s Volleyball Inquiry Jeongguk Jeon
Jeon,
Here’s what they sent me. Let me know if you want to do this thing, and if yes, when. Hope to hear from you soon.
Tony
— — — —
Hello Tony,
We have prepared the offer for Jeongguk and are ready to complete the contract at your earliest convenience. Please respond back with a date and time both of you are available. The attached files include the itinerary for the upcoming season and information about housing and training. We will discuss the details of the contract in person.
Warm regards,
Susan Murphy
USA Volleyball Headquarters
4065 Sinton Road, Suite 200
Colorado Springs, CO 80907
—
The cursor blinks in the empty reply box, staring Jeongguk down. It’s time for him to make the decision. For years he’s turned them down, running away from the past and avoiding his regrets. Now, though, he’ll say yes, and it will be the first thing he won’t regret. Jeongguk will not look behind and spurn what lies ahead of him. He misses him. He always has.
—
From: Jeongguk Jeon
Subject: Reply: USA Men’s Volleyball Inquiry Jeongguk Jeon
Let’s do it. Schedule the meeting as soon as possible.
Best,
Jeongguk
—
After sending the email, he stares at his inbox in a daze, as if Tony will email him back to let him know it’s done. It’s late, though, and Tony’s a busy man. He’ll have to finish out the season here as well. Summer won’t come quickly enough, and Jeongguk laments how he’ll pass the time as he stares and stares at that inbox. Perhaps, he’ll finally get around to decorating his apartment. Maybe, he’ll throw himself into wedding planning with Jimin. One thing he knows, though, is that this is his last night of wallowing. Today, he chose Taehyung. Tomorrow, he’ll become someone who Taehyung will want to choose too.