Chapter Text
Choi Taeyang was like a walking landmine.
Not in the way that he exploded if you got too close—it felt more like there was something buried deep in his chest, waiting for the wrong step to set it off.
They had been dorm mates for almost two months, but Jiung still couldn’t figure him out.
He was… confusing, to put it simply.
Jiung expected someone easy to read, someone he could categorize quickly, like he did with most people. But Taeyang acted as if the word contradictory grew limbs and learned how to speak.
He was friendly and warm and knew how to talk just enough to fill the silence. At the same time, he’d stare at the wall for a little too long, or drift off into his own head with this far‑away look that didn’t match the rest of him at all.
Other times, he had so much confidence that Jiung felt like he was speaking with another Keeho.
Their first meeting had given him that impression. Even if Jiung tried to forget it, he didn’t think he’d be able to—mostly because it was embarrassing for him, too.
He had stood outside the door for at least fifteen minutes, eyes scanning the numbers 205 a million times over just to make sure he wasn’t reading them wrong. He shouldn’t have been this anxious to walk into a dorm, but his nerves were already on high. Taeyang had already been living in the dorm for months before Jiung arrived. There had been a vacancy because somebody moved out mid‑last semester, and that was how Jiung ended up assigned to the room.
He knew this, but it still didn’t prepare him for actually meeting the stranger behind that door.
In Jiung’s previous year, he had roomed with his friend Keeho. They already knew each other from high school and had gotten pretty close their senior year, so it wasn’t hard at all to move in with each other. Jiung just had to get used to Keeho’s annoying habits.
After Jiung’s military service, he thought he had gotten better at sharing his space. He had lived shoulder-to-shoulder with people he didn’t know, with barely any privacy and no room to breathe on his own. It wasn’t bad, exactly, but it wasn't like he had a choice.
So when he came back to campus, he was looking forward to something familiar. Instead, he was met with Keeho’s apologetic eyes over facetime—“Sorry, Ji. I kinda really like the person I’m living with right now.”
And of course, Jiung wasn’t a bad friend, so he couldn’t just tell Keeho to ditch someone he liked. Still, losing the safety of someone he knew made everything else feel ten times heavier.
He hadn’t always been like this. When he was a kid, he had lots of friends and was pretty well-liked in school. People gravitated toward him easily, and he used to be proud of that. But as he grew older, those traits became the sole cause of his embarrassment.
He hated the sinking feeling in his stomach whenever a conversation slipped through his fingers. Sometimes he panicked and overshared; other times he stayed quiet until people decided he wasn’t worth talking to anymore.
Friendships he once formed quickly drifted apart, relationships he once sought stopped being a priority for him, and the attention he once had shrunk so much that he felt like a background character everywhere he went.
Somewhere along the way, Jiung became used to the solitude.
It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone all the time—it was just easier. Easier for him to be himself, to not worry about saying the wrong things or watch someone’s expression change whenever he laughed.
The thought always lingered, settled into the quiet space he’d carved out for himself over the years. But solitude didn’t help much now, not when he knew he was going to be starting over with someone new.
When Jiung had gotten his dorm number, he recalled that his dormitory was on the right side of campus. It was the same as he had in his prior year, so at least he knew what to expect of the layout.
The rooms were small—just two single beds on either side and two small desks accompanied with chairs and slim wardrobes on the ends. As long as he and his roommate kept to their own spaces, everything should be fine. He had just hoped this guy he’d be living with wasn’t a jerk or had horrible hygiene.
Thankfully, his worries didn’t come true.
The downside was, however, that Choi Taeyang made all his social knowledge fly straight out the window.
The moment Jiung finally worked up the courage to step inside dorm 205, Taeyang had already been standing there, about to leave the room at the same time Jiung was about to enter.
Jiung hadn’t said anything at first, a bit too stunned by the attractive male he was met with. All the while Taeyang had been checking him out, eyes trailing up and down his body like he was prey heading into a lion’s den.
Jiung panicked and sputtered, “H–Hello! You’re my roommate, I assume?” He mentally cursed himself afterwards.
Taeyang had stared at him before responding, “That’s right. I’m Taeyang.”
Then he stuck his hand out, waiting for Jiung to shake it.
Jiung knew his palms were probably sweaty, so he didn't know if he even wanted to grab Taeyang's hand.
“What? You'd rather stare at my face all day instead?”
Jiung felt his ears warm as he shook his head. “No, uh. My hands just get clammy a lot of the times, so…”
“I don't care. I could use some sweat on me.”
Jiung didn’t think he let the words register since he just shot his hand out, making contact with Taeyang's in an instant.
He was right; his hands were sweaty.
And the contrast was criminal.
Taeyang’s hand was smooth, warm, soft.
He wanted to yank his hand back, but Taeyang held on for longer than necessary. “See?” he said lightly, thumb brushing once against Jiung’s knuckles. “Not so bad.”
Jiung didn’t even remember how he reacted after that. It was so embarrassing that he had wiped it from his memory.
Taeyang had even called him cute when he asked for Jiung’s name.
“Can I get a name to match the cute face?”
Cute was his favorite adjective for Jiung apparently. He used it often as the days went by, tossing the word out like spare change.
“You’re cute, Jiung-ssi.”
“Oh, your bedhead’s cute, too.”
“You look cute with that outfit.”
Taeyang said it all way too casually, always with that same stupid grin on his face that made Jiung question whether he was joking or not. It was teasing but not in the obnoxious way Keeho did it. It was just… thoughtless. Effortless. Like he was stating the weather.
It made Jiung self conscious more than anything.
Every time Taeyang said it, something in Jiung’s chest tightened, just enough to irritate him. He never knew where to look. Never knew what to do with his hands. Never knew if he was supposed to laugh it off or deny it or pretend he hadn’t heard it at all.
The worst part was that Taeyang never seemed to notice the effect he had. He’d say things like they weighed nothing, like they weren't detonating somewhere behind Jiung’s ribs.
And if he did notice it, he didn’t seem to care.
Jiung hated how easily it got to him.
It reminded him that he’d been here before.
People who tossed out compliments like confetti, who liked the reaction more than the person. People who made him feel special for a moment and then forgot he existed the next day.
It made him remember how stupid it felt to hope someone actually meant what they said.
With Taeyang, Jiung couldn’t even tell.
He was like a coin, the two sides flipping constantly, never landing long enough for Jiung to understand which one was real.
Yet, somehow, they had fallen into a rhythm.
They weren’t exactly close, but they were a little closer than acquaintances. They texted more than Jiung expected. Sure, they were short, random messages that didn’t mean much on their own, but they strung together into this weird, steady thread between them that Jiung couldn’t name.
Taeyang sent reels at odd hours sometimes, most of them being cat videos from his feed and usually with no caption. Jiung would just like them because he never knew what else to say. Sometimes Jiung would send things, too, like the time he saw an ad with a duck as the selling character that he thought weirdly resembled Taeyang.
He immediately regretted pointing it out, only for Taeyang to respond with a simple “send more.”
It was easier talking through a screen. Jiung could think before responding, could stop himself from spiraling whenever Taeyang said something that made his insides flutter. In person, it was harder, especially because their schedules lined up almost perfectly. Whenever they left the dorm around the same time, came back around the same time, lazed around in the same time-window, Jiung found himself consciously aware of Taeyang’s movements.
And despite all that, they still hadn’t hung out alone. Never did anything that counted as being together on purpose. Jiung had thought about asking Taeyang to study in the library after their afternoon lectures, but the timing was never right.
Taeyang always seemed to be on his way somewhere. Most days, he left campus after classes and didn’t return all night.
He never told Jiung when he’d be gone, never acknowledged it when he magically appeared in their room the next morning.
Jiung had confronted him once, after it happened the first couple of times. “You didn’t come back again last night.”
Taeyang lied through his teeth. “I did. You didn’t see me?”
“...I guess not.”
Jiung had actually believed him for a second. Taeyang had said it with the same casual tone he used for everything. For a moment, Jiung had thought that he really had come back, and Jiung just hadn’t noticed.
But the pieces didn’t add up. The untouched bed, the silence.
Jiung was sure Taeyang knew he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for his words.
That was when he figured Taeyang was harder to read than he had thought.
For a while, things stayed like that—distant but strangely consistent, like a routine neither of them acknowledged. Jiung had stopped thinking about it because it wasn’t his place to pry anyway.
That was until Taeyang hadn’t answered his messages.
Until Taeyang didn’t disappear for just one night.
Because this time, he was gone for three.
One night was normal. Two wasn’t that strange. But waking up on the third morning to an empty inbox and still no sign of Taeyang made an unnamed shadow appear in Jiung’s chest.
As he got ready for classes this morning, he went through a few possibilities in his head. He figured that Taeyang might’ve been staying over at a friend’s place or had gone back home for a visit. But him visiting home and coming back just to sit through his classes didn’t make sense; that wasn’t convenient at all. So it must be a friend’s place, right? Or… did he have his own place off campus?
Jiung sat through his morning lectures unfocused, the singular incident lingering in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t pull out. He didn’t want to think about Taeyang anymore, didn’t want to care. He had pushed the thoughts away by his third class, but Keeho just had to bring it up again when they were grabbing food in the cafe.
“Still no word?” Keeho asked as soon as they sat down at an empty table.
Jiung shook his head.
Keeho poked at his sandwich, annoyed. “Where does he get off acting all hot and mysterious? You have to catch him before he leaves campus again.”
“Why? Whatever it is, it isn’t my business.”
Keeho threw his head back with a sigh. “I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t in my media elective group! He hasn’t been answering my messages or coming to our project meetings at all.”
“That’s something you should handle. Not me.”
“God, I hate you sometimes.”
“Likewise.”
Keeho sulked for a moment before his expression brightened. “How about I write your English paper in exchange?”
Jiung stared at him, horrified. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m serious! Come on, my use of words is totally better than yours.”
“Then you can talk to Taeyang yourself.”
“Okay, maybe not that good—”
Jiung cut him off with a look.
Keeho frowned. “Jiung, please,” he tried again. “You’re his roommate, so you know him best! Taeyang is scary, and I’d like to avoid talking to him one-on-one, if possible…”
“Wow, Yoon Stephen Keeho is scared of talking to someone? That’s a first.”
“Can you blame me? I talked with him last week when we got assigned our groups, and he looked at me like he wanted me dead.”
“You probably just ran your mouth again.”
Keeho scoffed. “I—okay, maybe I did, but it’s not my fault he hates all joy and whimsy.”
“I think it’s just you.”
“Yah! Whose side are you on?”
“The side of reality.”
“Well, reality says that I’m going to fail this class if he keeps ditching our meetings!”
Jiung took a sip of his drink and hummed like he was considering it, but he had his answer. He just liked making Keeho squirm.
“Jiiiuuuung,” Keeho whined, dragging out his name. He looked ready to beg until his eyes landed on the cookie sitting on top of the napkin in front of him.
He gestured to it. “I’ll give you my cookie. This is a premium sacrifice.”
Jiung bit back a smile. He was already going to agree; the cookie was a bonus. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to him.”
Keeho beamed. He slid over the napkin, but then had second thoughts and pulled it back toward him. He tore off a bite before sliding it over again.
Jiung blinked. “I thought that was for me?”
“Sorry. Friendship tax.” Keeho blew a kiss.
~
Five unread messages stared back at Jiung as he opened his chat with Taeyang. His first thought was to just text him again, even if it bore no response.
He typed, deleted, retyped, deleted again. In the end, he settled for the simplest option.
Hey.
He hit send.
Waited.
Two minutes passed.
Nothing.
Jiung locked his phone and put it in his pocket. He had no choice but to look for him now and hopefully intercept his path before he left campus again.
Taeyang’s lecture ended thirty minutes after Jiung’s, so Jiung had about thirteen minutes to spare before more students erupted in the halls.
He lingered outside building three before he realized something.
He didn’t actually know what lecture hall Taeyang was in.
He didn’t even know his major.
How had he lived with someone for this long and not know something that basic? They talked, they texted, but apparently when it came to anything concrete about Taeyang’s life, Jiung had nothing.
Which was ridiculous because Jiung had shared pieces of his life before.
He had answered questions about his hometown, previous clubs he’d been in, even the stupid story about how he tripped over his own shoelaces in middle school. Taeyang had listened, nodded, laughed at the right parts. He’d made it feel easy, natural.
Jiung had talked without even thinking. Now that he was thinking about it, it bothered him. He had given Taeyang pieces of himself without noticing.
And Taeyang had given him… what?
A few cat reels and a sickening knot in his stomach.
Jiung took a breath. Honestly, he didn’t really want to look for Taeyang. But he had told Keeho he would, so of course, he was going to.
First though, he needed a mask; it was starting to get chilly, and he wasn’t going to search around outside with the possibility of catching a cold.
He headed back toward the dorms, mentally rehearsing a plan he didn’t have. He didn’t know enough about Taeyang to conjure up any of the places he might’ve gone.
For all Jiung knew, Taeyang could just be lingering around campus like a creep.
…
The image of a creep didn’t suit him actually.
Maybe he had a part-time job? Somewhere like… a music store?
That was plausible. With that thought, something else surfaced—a detail about Taeyang that had kept itself in the back of Jiung’s mind.
When Jiung had finished unpacking his stuff on move-in day, he had seen a guitar laying against the end of Taeyang’s bedframe. He figured Taeyang liked playing it then.
But now that he was thinking about it, the memory felt off.
He remembered Taeyang picking it up and leaving the dorm with it the second Jiung had settled in. It was like the sight of it in the open had suddenly become a problem.
Why hide something he clearly seemed to care about?
Jiung shook the thought away with a sigh—he didn’t need to unpack that. He and Taeyang weren’t even friends. He shouldn’t be getting this riled up.
Jiung reached his dorm and unlocked the door only for his eyes to land on the extra pair of shoes sitting by the entrance.
Worn, white sneakers that had been tarnished by dirt and scuffed at the toes—the same pair Taeyang always kicked off without looking, the same pair that had been missing for three days straight.
Jiung’s gaze lifted.
There he was.
Taeyang stood by his desk, back half‑turned, hoodie rumpled, hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. He had been rummaging through his drawer before he heard the door click.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Their eyes met.
“Ah,” Taeyang said, like Jiung had stepped out for five minutes. “You’re back.”
Jiung stood still.
I’m back? What about you? He wanted to say, but instead he blurted, “I wasn’t looking for you.”
Jiung wanted to evaporate on the spot.
Taeyang didn’t offer him much of a reaction. He gave a small smile, then returned to looking through his drawer. Whatever he was looking for, he found it quickly now that Jiung was in the room.
Jiung urged his brain to come up with something to say. How could Taeyang just show up like this after days of nothing? After ignoring every message? After leaving Jiung to spiral through a morning he didn’t even want to admit he’d spent thinking about him?
His mouth moved before his thoughts caught up.
“You were gone.”
It came out flat.
Taeyang paused. Only for a second, but Jiung noticed it.
Then he straightened, closing the drawer with a soft click. “I had stuff to take care of,” he said.
And that was it.
Jiung felt that sink in his stomach again, that feeling of a conversation slipping through his fingers like sand. “Right.”
Taeyang finally looked at him then, eyes steady and unreadable in that way that made Jiung feel like he was on the lower end of a seesaw.
The silence stretched between them, thin and taut.
Jiung swallowed. He needed to say something. Then he remembered Keeho.
“Oh,” Jiung said. “Keeho’s been trying to reach you.”
Taeyang blinked. “Keeho?”
“Yeah. For your media elective project.” Jiung tried to sound casual and not like he was panicking on the inside. “He said you haven’t shown up.”
Taeyang’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture did. “I know.”
“Then why haven’t you—”
“I’ll deal with it.”
Jiung stared at him, frustration starting to simmer under his skin. “Why didn’t you respond to any messages?”
Taeyang didn’t answer right away. His gaze flicked downward, jaw tightening for a split second before he looked back up. The lines around his face smoothed out, neutralizing his expression again. “My phone broke.”
A beat of silence passed between them. Then before Jiung could inquire further, Taeyang turned toward him fully. “Anyway, I’ve been gone for a bit, yeah? Let’s hang out.”
Jiung froze.
“Come eat with me,” Taeyang said, stepping closer to Jiung.
“I—what? Why?”
Taeyang looked up at him, head tilted, eyes warm. “Because I want to,” he said simply. Then, with a half-grin, “What, are you afraid to go out with me?”
There it was again—that teasing way he talked.
Jiung stuttered. “N–No.” It didn’t sound convincing.
Taeyang’s grin widened but was soft at the edges. “Good. Come on then.”
He brushed past Jiung toward the door, humming under his breath as if the conversation had gone exactly how he wanted.
Jiung stood there, heart doing something stupid and hot in his chest, wondering how Taeyang could switch moods like flipping a light switch.
Wondering why it affected him so much.
Wondering why he was already reaching for his shoes.
~
It was quiet, except for the mechanical whirring of the bus. There weren’t a lot of people needing transportation at this time—they boarded just before rush hour.
Jiung let Taeyang have the window seat.
Taeyang was leaning the side of his head against the glass, eyes fixed on the blurred world outside. The fading light washed over him in soft gold, turning the edges of his hair a warm shade.
Jiung might’ve appeared calm, but his insides were tangled. He couldn't even focus on the fact that he was sitting so close to Taeyang or the fact that he smelled like peaches and ash—a weird but strangely comforting scent.
He could only think about the broken phone and how Taeyang had asked to hang out even if they were just grabbing food.
He asked me out as a distraction. That has to be it.
What other reason would Taeyang have? Whatever ‘stuff’ he had to take care of obviously affected him enough to put a crack in his demeanor.
Suddenly, the bus jolted.
Taeyang’s shoulder bumped into Jiung’s. It was a second of contact, but it was enough to make Jiung jolt, too.
He flinched, jerking away in a sharp, instinctive recoil. His body moved first, his brain second, and the embarrassment hit him immediately after.
Taeyang turned his head just enough to look at Jiung, one eyebrow lifting. “Did I scare you?”
Jiung’s ears burned. “No. That—was my bad.”
Taeyang’s mouth curved in amusement. “You’re like a startled rabbit.”
Jiung peeked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not a rabbit.”
“Mm. You’re right. You’re more like a hamster.”
Jiung felt the heat rush to his face. He didn’t know what kind of expression he was making, but he wanted to disappear underneath the seat when he heard Taeyang laugh.
It was soft and bright. Quick, as his voice dropped a little. “Relax,” he said, nudging Jiung’s knee with his own—gently, slow enough that Jiung could see it coming. “I’m not gonna bite.”
He sounded sincere, but Jiung knew it wasn’t true. Taeyang bit. A lot. More than Jiung could handle.
Jiung cleared his throat, desperate to redirect his brain before it combusted.
“So… um.” He stared straight ahead. “About Keeho. About your project… will you be on campus tomorrow?”
Taeyang didn’t answer immediately. His eyes narrowed at Jiung, like he was trying to figure something out. Then he leaned back against the window again, lashes lowering.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
“You will?”
Taeyang nodded, the motion slow, almost tired. “I won’t be gone for a little while.”
Jiung didn’t know what that meant. He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure if Taeyang would actually provide him with an answer.
Then Taeyang continued, slipping back into that casual facade like it was a jacket he could shrug on whenever he wanted.
“I’ll show up. Wouldn’t want Keeho to fail because he misses me too much.”
Jiung stared at him. “You know, he’s scared of you.”
“Perfect. That means all my threatening worked. It’d be weird if he missed me anyway.” He turned to Jiung. “You did though, right?”
Jiung averted his gaze, at a loss for words again.
Taeyang laughed under his breath.
They sat in silence after that.
The bus hummed along the highway, the city slowly shifting outside the window as they headed toward the city square. The bus made a couple more stops. People got on, got off, but their row stayed untouched, like they were in their own little bubble.
Taeyang had asked if Jiung was craving anything before they got on.
Jiung had said no.
So Taeyang had shrugged and said he was craving yukhoe.
Now, about thirty minutes later, he still looked like he was thinking about it—eyes half‑lidded, temple pressed lightly to the window, breath fogging the glass every few seconds.
Jiung tried not to look at him.
He focused on the window instead, on the blur of buildings and pedestrians passing by as the sun started to dip lower.
After a while, he saw the rows of stalls and awnings come into sight.
Taeyang shifted, stretching his legs out in front of him. Then he lifted his head, peering over the seats. “Oh, this is us.”
Jiung gripped the pole as the bus lurched to a stop. He stepped into the aisle, trying not to think about Taeyang’s presence following behind him.
The cool air hit his face as soon as he stepped outside. He realized he never actually got that mask when he went back to their dorm.
Behind him, he heard Taeyang hop down the last step with a soft thud. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, rocking back on his heels once Jiung stepped aside.
The bus doors closed; they were the only ones who got off.
Taeyang’s eyes flicked toward the street ahead. “The market shouldn’t be far.”
As Taeyang began walking, Jiung lingered a few steps behind. The crowd became busier the further in they got. People spilled out of shops, tourists stopped abruptly to take pictures, locals weaved through the gaps like they were born knowing the pattern.
Jiung tried to keep up, but the space between him and Taeyang stretched and shrank unpredictably. The bodies surrounding them were swallowing every movement.
He took one step too slow.
Someone cut between them.
Before Jiung could blink, Taeyang’s hand shot toward him.
He almost jerked back again, but Taeyang didn’t grab his hand—he grabbed his sleeve.
A firm pinch of fabric between Taeyang’s fingers as he tugged Jiung forward without looking back.
“Come here,” Taeyang said, but Jiung barely heard his voice. “You’re gonna get lost.”
He just pulled Jiung up beside him, releasing his sleeve only once Jiung was close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
Then Taeyang kept walking, like nothing had happened.
Jiung peeked at the side of Taeyang’s face, neck warm against the chilly air.
They made it to the market, the smell of smoke and grilled meat drifting through the air. It was loud and even more crowded than it was outside.
Taeyang slowed, glancing back at Jiung. “You really don’t want anything else?”
Jiung shook his head. “I’m okay.”
Taeyang hummed, unconvinced but not pushing. “Alright. Yukhoe it is.”
He led them through the maze of stalls with the confidence of someone who’d been here a hundred times. Jiung followed close, trying not to lose him again.
They reached the yukhoe stand—a counter where the vendor was mixing beef with sesame oil and pear slices.
Taeyang’s eyes lit up in a subtle way that you wouldn’t notice unless you were actually looking.
Jiung wasn’t aware that he was.
Not until after Taeyang had ordered and turned his head to look at Jiung. “Aren’t you gonna order, too?”
For one horrifying second, Jiung held his gaze.
Taeyang’s brows lifted a fraction.
“Ah—” Jiung’s voice cracked slightly. “Yeah. I’ll—I’ll get one.”
Only then did he tear his gaze away, snapping his attention to the vendor like the plates were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
They both paid separately. While waiting for the vendor to plate the meat, Jiung let his eyes wander, anywhere but Taeyang’s face. Then his gaze landed on the sign above the table.
Seoul Good! the red letters spelled out. There was also a little pun about food right under it, and Jiung couldn’t help but release a small giggle.
Taeyang turned his head. “What’s funny?”
Jiung stiffened. “Uh, nothing. Sorry.”
Taeyang didn’t look away. He kept staring at Jiung like he was trying to read the apology off his face. His brows pulled together curiously.
“Why are you apologizing?” he asked.
Jiung’s mind scrambled. He hated this—the way his instinct was to apologize first, explain later. The way he panicked like he had done something wrong without realizing it.
Quickly, Jiung said, “I wasn’t laughing at you.”
Taeyang blinked once. “I didn’t say you were.”
Jiung’s neck felt hot. He was still for a few seconds before he weakly gestured to the sign above them.
Taeyang followed his movement upwards, his lips parting slightly as he tried to decipher whatever had made Jiung laugh.
“What’s so funny about it?” he sounded genuinely confused.
“It’s just… it says Seoul Good. Like so good.”
Taeyang stared at him for a beat. Then he exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “That’s dumb.”
Jiung’s mouth gaped slightly. “Well, the funnier pun is the one underneath it.”
He pointed a finger at the smaller, red words.
Taeyang leaned in a little, squinting at the sign. He read it slowly under his breath. Then he looked back at Jiung.
“I don’t get it.”
“Really? It’s… not that difficult.”
Before Jiung could stop himself, he was already slowly explaining the pun and why it worked so well. He gestured a bit too much with his hands, his voice picked up a bit, and he talked about how the consonant swaps in the phrase made it clever.
He didn’t even realize he was rambling until he was halfway through a sentence about phonetic substitutions.
And Taeyang… hadn’t interrupted once. He just stood there, their plates of yukhoe already done; Jiung didn’t know for how long.
Jiung finally trailed off. He swallowed again. “Um. Anyway. That’s… why it’s funny.”
Taeyang leaned back a little, lips tugging upward in a small, almost reluctant smile.
“You’re such a nerd.”
Jiung’s face dropped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say so much—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Taeyang said. “It’s cute. You should tell me more stuff.”
More… stuff? Jiung stared at him, trying to analyze the muscles in his face. They were all relaxed, and his gaze was steady on Jiung.
“Like what?” he asked, voice small.
Taeyang shrugged. He grabbed his yukhoe and handed the other one to Jiung. “How about that biology test you had today,” he said as they moved to the side.
Jiung raised his eyebrows, surprised. He had mentioned it last week offhandedly. He had been studying in their room, half-muttering formulas under his breath when Taeyang asked what he was doing.
Taeyang recalled that tiny detail?
“Oh,” Jiung said, blinking. “Right. Uh, it went well.”
Taeyang took a bite of yukhoe, nodding. “That’s good.”
Jiung stared at him for a second, thrown off balance. “You remembered I had it today?”
“Yeah.” Taeyang didn’t elaborate. He didn’t look embarrassed or proud or anything. He just said it like remembering things Jiung said was normal.
Jiung looked down at his plate, his gut doing stupid backflips again.
~
The rest of the evening wasn’t very eventful.
After they finished with their yukhoe, they wandered through the market with no real destination. Taeyang would point out random things he saw as they walked, laughing.
Jiung found himself laughing with him, feeling lighter than he had earlier. He appreciated these little moments between them, when everything felt less tense, when he let loose and stopped overthinking. It didn’t happen often.
When they rode the bus back, it was packed way more than before. The air was thick with heat despite the cold weather outside. There were no seats left, so they had to stand near the front, both gripping the same pole for balance.
Taeyang’s hand rested above Jiung’s. They didn’t speak the whole way back, but Jiung felt like the silence said more than words ever could between them.
The minutes flew by, making the trip seem shorter than it was. They made it back to their dorm and fell into their usual night routine, thoughtless.
Jiung checked over his classwork while Taeyang washed up first. Then they switched, except Taeyang didn’t check over anything—he never did.
By the time Jiung stepped out of the bathroom, Taeyang was already fast asleep.
Jiung paused by the side of his bed, quietly observing the sleeping male. Taeyang was curled slightly on his side, brows drawn together, fingers twitching against the blanket like he was fighting off a cramp or something deeper. Every few seconds, he shifted with small, restless movements.
Jiung hadn’t seen Taeyang act like that in his sleep before. Not that he’d been watching or anything—it was just that Taeyang was normally a still sleeper.
Jiung turned away before he could make something more of it. He climbed into his own bed, turned off the lamp, and lay there staring at the ceiling.
Today was… fun? For a lack of a better word.
Hanging out with Taeyang had been less nerve-wracking than Jiung had thought. He figured he wouldn’t mind doing it again.
Classes the next day went by like normal. Jiung took notes, zoned out once or twice, drank water—the usual. Except he didn’t feel usual, not after this morning.
Taeyang wasn’t in the room when Jiung woke up. For a moment, he was scared that Taeyang might be gone again only to find a small piece of paper on his desk.
Went to class early.
Jiung had probably stared at it a little longer than he should have, analyzing how Taeyang’s handwriting looked on the yellow post-it note. His eyes kept retracing every letter like he wanted them ingrained in his mind.
It was stupid how warm and relieved he felt to know Taeyang cared to leave a note at all. Or maybe it was just convenient because Taeyang’s phone was still broken. But it didn’t matter because, at least now, Taeyang was communicating his whereabouts.
Jiung also usually ate with Keeho, but when he reached the entrance to the cafe, his phone buzzed with a text.
Keeho
Jiung guess what
?
Keeho
I managed to talk with taeyang without getting my head bitten off :D
I’m honestly surprised you got him back
I guess he likes you
Jiung stopped walking, causing a couple students to have to swerve around him. When he noticed, he repeatedly said sorry before resuming his steps.
Keeho really needed to stop spouting nonsense.
Is that all you wanted to tell me?
Keeho
Ykw he said when I sat next to him in class
“I’m tolerating you because of choi jiung”
You did smth to get him in a good mood huh 😏
Stop saying weird things
Keeho
I’m right tho
Anyway I need to get him caught up before our group meeting later
Eat without me <3
Jiung responded with a thumbs up emoji before locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket.
He sat alone once he was in the cafe. He tried not to imagine what else Keeho and Taeyang could be talking about because, knowing Keeho, he was probably yapping embarrassing things to Taeyang right now.
Jiung pressed his lips together, staring at the same paragraph in his online textbook without absorbing a single word. Sure he and Keeho had been friends for a few years, but he still didn’t trust him with sensitive information—especially information about him.
And the thought of Keeho revealing anything about him to Taeyang just made his anxiety skyrocket.
He exhaled and shook the thoughts away.
Afterwards, he went to study for a bit in the library, then decided to go for a run. It was nice out today, and it would be a waste to not utilize good weather before it became colder.
The clear sky came with a slight breeze. Jiung took the path around campus, letting his thoughts drift as his feet hit the pavement in steady beats. He didn’t know how many laps he did, but he stopped when he noticed the sky starting to grow orange.
By the time he jogged back to the dorms, his legs felt like jelly, and all he could think about was a nice, cold shower.
When Jiung entered his room, Taeyang was already there, sitting at his desk with his laptop open. His face was leaning on his palm, eyebrows scrunched inwards like he was thinking too hard.
He glanced over when Jiung shook off his shoes. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Jiung replied, hand grabbing the hem of his shirt.
He pulled it up to his face so he could wipe off some remaining sweat before it could fall into his eyes. The fabric stuck to the long-sleeve underneath, dragging it up with it. He only wore two layers in case it would be chilly by the time he finished running, but with the way he sweats so much, it didn’t even matter.
His stomach flashed into view—pale skin, tattoos and all. He dropped the shirt back within a few seconds, still breathing hard.
Jiung looked back at Taeyang only to catch him staring. “What’s wrong?”
Taeyang flicked his eyes away, clearing his throat. The tips of his ears seemed to faintly turn pink.
Huh? Was Jiung imagining that?
Taeyang shifted in his seat. “Nothing. I’m just working on something. That media project.”
Jiung swallowed as he inched further into the room. “How’s that going?”
Taeyang exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “Keeho told me to add on to this infographic they started, but I’m lost. I suck at organizing the information on here.”
“Do you want help?”
Taeyang looked up at him again. He studied Jiung for a moment, which made Jiung avert his eyes. He shifted uncomfortably on his heels and almost said actually, I have work to do, too, but Taeyang’s voice came out soft.
“Yeah.”
Jiung nodded. “Okay. Let me shower first.”
Taeyang hummed, eyes dropping back to his laptop. “Alright.”
Jiung didn’t take too long washing up—he didn’t want to keep Taeyang waiting. When he got out of the bathroom, hair damp and clothes clean, Taeyang had moved to sit on the floor in between both their beds but closer to Jiung’s. The laptop was open and the infographic draft was pulled up.
Jiung settled next to him, their backs pressing against the edge of the mattress. He looked over what was there so far, noticing how there were too many blocks of text. It wasn’t pleasing to the eye and made it hard to navigate what to read when.
Jiung wasn’t a design expert, but he thought he was pretty good at making things look neat. He started explaining layout ideas, clicking various elements in the program to show Taeyang.
Taeyang nodded along, and he did ask a few questions, but he rarely put in any input. Whenever Jiung asked if something looked good, Taeyang said yes without a thought.
Jiung forgot to ask when this had to be done by, but with the pace they were working at, it could be done by tonight. He moved his finger on the mousepad to adjust one more bubble of text. Once satisfied, Jiung backed up with a smile. He tapped Taeyang’s leg to get his attention to look, but the male beside him didn’t respond.
He looked over.
Taeyang’s head was pulled back, leaning on top of the mattress. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes closed, breaths even. He had fallen asleep.
Jiung just stared at him.
Taeyang looked peaceful. Different from how he looked when he slept the night before. His face looked softer like this, illuminated by the yellow light of Jiung’s desk lamp.
Jiung knew he should wake him up. He still had work to finish.
But Jiung didn’t move. He just watched him—the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks. His expression twitched ever so slightly.
Then Taeyang tilted his head sideways.
And landed on Jiung’s shoulder.
Jiung froze.
He stopped breathing, but his chest was pumping fast like the adrenaline he had gotten from running earlier came back with this single touch. His pulse thudded against his ribs, loud enough that he was scared it might wake Taeyang up.
Jiung didn’t dare move.
Taeyang’s hair brushed the side of his jaw, and his warm breath ghosted over Jiung’s collarbone in slow, steady waves. The weight of Taeyang’s head wasn’t heavy, it felt… comforting. Jiung wasn’t bothered by the contact, surprisingly.
His right arm started to go numb as he felt like he was being pinned down by some invisible force. But he couldn’t bring himself to move.
He didn’t know how many minutes passed. His shoulder tingled, his legs started to prick with pins and needles. His back ached from sitting too stiffly.
Jiung finally glanced back at the laptop and noticed that it was nearing midnight now. He had let Taeyang sleep on him for almost an hour. Time had passed by so slowly yet so quickly—Jiung couldn’t even process it.
He wasn’t sure why he was still sitting there, letting Taeyang snooze on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what this meant to him, wasn’t sure why his own chest was feeling hot and stupid.
But he stayed like that, letting himself fall apart quietly on the inside.
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, too.
~
Jiung’s mouth was dry when he gained consciousness the next morning. He licked at his lips, smacking them a bit as he wet them. He felt the warm light seeping in from the blinds as it warmed the side of his face.
His neck ached, like it was stuck in this position for too long. He moved an arm around, expecting to feel the hard floor beneath him, but it was soft. Firm but soft.
He was on top of something that was moving. Floors didn’t move.
Jiung’s eyes flew open when he realized where he was.
He was on Taeyang.
His cheek was pressed against Taeyang’s chest, right above his heartbeat. One of Taeyang’s arms was around his back, loose but undeniably there. Their legs were tangled, Jiung’s knee hooked over Taeyang’s thigh like he had climbed onto him in his sleep.
Oh god, Jiung hoped he hadn’t done that.
But he knew he was a clinger—that was why he always had a big pillow with him in bed. Nothing else could explain how he ended up in this embarrassing situation.
He lifted his head in panic, hoping Taeyang was still asleep, but he met Taeyang’s very awake eyes instantly.
Taeyang was already looking at him, hair messy and flattened on one side, expression amused like he enjoyed waking up to see Jiung sprawled on top of him.
Jiung scrambled back so fast he nearly hit his elbow on the bed frame. “I—sorry—I didn’t—”
Taeyang laughed. He stretched his arms above his head, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly, and grinned at Jiung with an expression Jiung had never seen on him before.
“Am I comfy?”
Jiung’s whole body short-circuited. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His face burned so hot he thought he might combust. He just blamed it on the morning sun.
He stood up immediately, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I–I’m sorry. I guess I was tired.”
Taeyang yawned as he stretched again, sitting up on his elbows. He looked up at Jiung. “It’s okay. I know I fell asleep, too.”
He glanced over at the laptop that was still open on the floor, screen black from being left out all night. “Don’t tell me you finished it. I’d feel bad.”
Jiung shook his head. “No, I, uh, just re-adjusted a few more things.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll finish it in class later.”
Speaking of class, Jiung hoped they hadn’t slept in for too long. He looked around for his phone, finding it on the floor a few inches away.
He bent down to grab it, thumb tapping the screen awake.
7:43.
If they hurried, they’d only be late by a few minutes at the least.
Taeyang pushed himself up from the floor, brushing off his sweatpants. “You don’t have to wait for me. Just go.”
Jiung turned to him. “What? No, I’m not leaving you.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Jiung realized the implications there. He only said it because he and Taeyang always left for class at the same time since their first lectures lined up. They left the dormitory together then parted ways once they stepped outside.
It made much more sense for them to just leave on their own devices.
Jiung’s face didn’t cool. “Actually, yeah, I’ll go when I’m done,” he said, words spilling out fast.
He walked to his closet to pick out clothes for the day, trying to ignore the burn of Taeyang’s stare from behind him.
“Alright,” Taeyang said. Soon, he was shuffling his feet around to get ready, too.
The days continued to pass, another two weeks flying by before Jiung realized it.
Taeyang got his phone fixed somewhere in the middle—Jiung only noticed because Taeyang stopped asking him to check the time for him and started sending reels again. Other than that, the only big change was the fact that Keeho kept inviting Taeyang to eat with them at the cafe; they apparently got along really well now after finishing that project.
Taeyang didn’t look like he minded, Keeho obviously didn’t mind, but Jiung, on the other hand, felt like he was sinking deeper every time they were close.
They ate together frequently, even in the dorms. Jiung could cook a few dishes, and not many people utilized the dormitory kitchen, so it was him in there most of the time. He cooked for Taeyang once, too, and only because Keeho pestered him about it.
Keeho insisted it was ‘good bonding time’ and ‘Taeyang needs to socialize more so people can stop saying how scary he is.’
But Taeyang didn’t just sit back and let Jiung do all the work—he helped. Well, tried to, anyway. The only decent thing Taeyang could make was egg fried rice.
Most times Taeyang hung around the couches, but sometimes he’d hover around Jiung just to see what he was doing. He’d lean over Jiung’s shoulder to watch him chop vegetables, or stand behind him while Jiung stirred a pot, close enough that Jiung could feel the warmth of him.
Jiung didn’t mind it. He actually liked it. But he pretended to complain anyway because Taeyang’s quiet reactions were starting to become a problem for his heart.
And Taeyang still left campus.
Jiung counted five days spread throughout the two weeks where Taeyang didn’t return to the dorms. But instead of lying straight to Jiung’s face this time, he just said he actually had a part-time job.
That surprised Jiung but didn’t surprise him at the same time.
It was normal for students to have a job. Jiung himself didn’t have one only because he promised his parents he would earn his first degree before working since his major was time-consuming. He was thankful that his parents still sent him money every month.
But he wondered why Taeyang hadn’t just told him that in the first place instead of acting all mysterious. Every time he wanted to ask, he missed the opportunity—Taeyang would leave too quickly, Jiung would lose his nerve, or the moment just wouldn’t feel right.
And every time Jiung didn’t ask, it bothered him. Because he wanted to know, but he didn’t want to seem nosy.
He and Taeyang weren’t that close. Not as close as he was to Keeho or as close as Keeho had somehow gotten to Taeyang.
Jiung had to admit he was jealous of Keeho’s ability to befriend people so quickly, even more so that the person he managed to befriend was Taeyang.
He wanted to be someone Taeyang trusted enough to tell things to without Jiung having to ask. Keeho didn’t have that problem because he didn’t hesitate. He just did what he wanted. He just talked to Taeyang, dragged him places, got him to open up without even trying.
Jiung envied how easy it was for Keeho, but he’d never say it out loud. He didn’t know why every interaction with Taeyang felt like he was walking on thin ice—anything he said or did could be the move that caused their half-built relationship to crack.
Jiung sighed, rubbing his forehead as he stared at the document he was supposed to be annotating. He was highlighting another sentence when his phone buzzed loudly on his desk.
He flinched before glancing at the screen.
Keeho.
Jiung picked up reluctantly.
Keeho didn’t even say hello. “Jiung, it’s urgent.”
Jiung closed his eyes. “What did you do?”
“Hey, why are you assuming I did something??”
“Just tell me.”
“Okay, just listen before you say anything—a few departments are having a karaoke night right now. We rented three big rooms because, you know, a lot of people came. They keep asking me where Taeyang is since they think we’re close and all. But he doesn’t even answer my messages half of the time, sooo… could you pretty please convince him to come? You can come, too! Actually, yes, come. My roommate is here, and I can finally introduce you guys.”
Jiung didn’t answer for a moment, soaking in all that information. “Wait, why are they asking for Taeyang anyway?”
“Um, because he’s popular? You see him everyday, you know how hot he is! Also there’s rumors that he has a killer voice, and everyone wants to hear it, but he never sings for us.”
“What do you mean, sings for you? Is he in your department?”
“Duh! … wait, you didn’t know?”
No, Jiung didn’t know. He didn’t even know his major until now.
He had assumed—what? That Taeyang was in business? Engineering? Maybe English?
But music?
Taeyang was in the music department.
With Keeho.
Now that Jiung knew, it made total sense.
He recalled that guitar Taeyang had a few months back. Jiung hadn’t seen him with that guitar again, and he thought it might’ve been a hobby.
Keeho kept talking. “He’s in composition or something—I don’t know, I don’t stalk him. But everyone in the department knows him. Someone said they heard him singing once, and it was like, angelic or whatever. My singing is definitely way better though. Anyway, everyone wants him to come to karaoke, and they’ve seen us talking, and I might’ve told them I can get him here. News flash: I can’t.”
Jiung was quiet for a few more seconds before he finally agreed. “Fine, I’ll ask him.”
“THANK YOU!” Keeho exclaimed, and it almost burst Jiung’s eardrums through the speaker. “I’ll give you a big smooch when I see you. Don't take too long, bye!”
The line went silent with a beep.
So. Taeyang was part of the music department and apparently had a voice worth whispering about. It was like the list of things Jiung didn't know about Taeyang kept growing.
He sighed again.
He just realized he had basically told Keeho he’d be coming, too. Jiung didn’t hate karaoke, but he did hate being in front of people he didn’t know. And he knew that karaoke room was full of people he didn’t know.
Jiung glanced behind him where Taeyang was sitting at his own desk. He had headphones on, scrolling through his phone, so he probably didn’t hear any of that phone call.
Jiung returned to highlighting his paper. He would finish this first before asking.
~
Twenty more minutes went by before Jiung was done. In between that time frame, Keeho had sent a message.
Keeho
Don’t make it obvious that I asked 🙏🙏🙏
Don’t make it obvious?
Jiung stared at the screen, deadpan.
How was he supposed to not make it obvious when Keeho had practically dumped a whole mission on him? What was he supposed to say—Hey, Taeyang, want to go to karaoke for absolutely no reason at all? Definitely not because half the music department is expecting you to show up on Keeho’s behalf.
Jiung sighed through his nose, then set his phone down. He almost stood up but had another idea instead. He picked his phone up again, opening his chat with Taeyang.
He scrolled through the sticker packs, thumb hovering over a few options—cats, bears, a weird dancing blob—before stopping on the ducks. He found one where the duck had a round face, tiny wings, and an expression that looked like it was shyly peeking around a corner.
Perfect. He sent it.
A second later, he typed:
Are you busy?
He felt ridiculous, but it was better than walking up to Taeyang and fumbling with his words.
He watched the screen and listened behind him for any sort of reaction. Jiung couldn’t tell if Taeyang was reading the message or not.
Then three dots appeared.
Jiung’s heart jumped.
Choi Taeyang
No
Okay. A typical response from Taeyang.
Jiung thought about his next message before typing again, slowly.
Do you want to go out for a bit?
Choi Taeyang
With you?
Jiung’s stomach flipped.
Yeah
There was a pause before the response came through.
Choi Taeyang
Okay
Suddenly, the soft scrape of chair legs sounded behind him.
Jiung turned slightly, knowing Taeyang was going to say something. Probably something like Why are you texting me when I’m right here? That was dumb.
But when he faced Taeyang, he saw him pointing his phone screen at him, the duck sticker in view.
“It’s cute,” Taeyang said simply.
“Huh?”
“The duck,” he clarified, glancing at his screen. “And you texting me like that.”
“... yeah, it’s pretty cute. I mean—the duck is,” Jiung agreed.
Taeyang looked back at him. “So where are we going?”
Jiung tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes kept wandering. “Um, I was thinking… karaoke…?”
“Karaoke,” Taeyang repeated.
Jiung nodded. “I heard there’s some departments gathering there tonight.”
“And you want to go? With me? Why not Keeho?”
Jiung panicked for a split second. “W–Well, he actually asked me to come.”
Another beat passed.
Then Taeyang made a noise of acceptance. “Okay. I’ll go.”
Jiung watched him get up from his chair. “Just like that?”
Taeyang shrugged. “You want to hang out, right? Then let’s hang out. I don’t care where.”
Jiung gulped. He didn’t expect it to be that easy.
~
Keeho texted Jiung the room he would be in and the address of the place. It was actually not a long walk from campus.
When he and Taeyang arrived, they spoke to the person at the front and told him they were with a large group of people. They were directed to their room with no problems.
The moment Jiung slid the door open, he was in awe.
The room was huge, bigger than any karaoke room he’d ever seen. There were about fifteen people scattered around couches and tables. Some were drinking, some were laughing, three of them were singing loudly.
The second Taeyang stepped inside, though, it was like a celebrity had entered.
Whispers rippled throughout the room.
“No way… is that Choi Taeyang?”
“Yah, Keeho, you actually got him here?”
“He’s even more handsome up close, what the hell—”
Taeyang ignored them all. He walked straight to an empty seat in the corner, unbothered.
Jiung followed him, but he didn’t make it far.
Someone suddenly wrapped their arm around his shoulders.
“Jiung!” It was Keeho.
Jiung looked at his friend, noticing how his cheeks were tinted pink, and his smile was wide and silly. He was definitely drunk.
“I love you sooo much,” Keeho laughed, then planted his lips on Jiung’s cheek with a loud pop.
Jiung winced. “Keeho—”
Keeho’s hand grabbed Jiung’s. “Come on, I have to introduce you to Intak!”
Before Jiung could be dragged away, Taeyang was back at his side.
He stepped forward and flicked Keeho on the forehead, earning a few gasps around. “Yoon Keeho,” Taeyang said, voice low, “mind your manners.”
Keeho yelped, clutching his forehead. “Ow—hey!”
“Don’t just grab people like that.”
“Wha–? I’m just trying to introduce my friends. Do you have a problem?”
Before Taeyang could answer, Jiung broke up the conversation. “Okay—okay, stop. Both of you.”
He looked at Taeyang, apologetically. “I’ll just go meet Intak real quick, then I’ll come back.”
Taeyang didn’t hesitate. “I’ll come with.”
Keeho perked up. “Oh, yeah! You know Intak already, haha. I forgot—no, wait, I didn’t forget, I’m just, uhhh…”
Taeyang ignored him, stepping closer to Jiung just enough that Keeho’s grip on him loosened.
Keeho stumbled a little. “Hey—Taeyang, watch it—”
Taeyang gave him a look.
Keeho shut up immediately.
Jiung was suddenly very aware of Taeyang’s presence beside him.
“Anywaaay… he’s waiting over here.”
Keeho led them to the other side of the room where Intak was laughing along with other people.
Intak looked up the moment they approached, his smile bright. “Oh, hey! Jiung hyung, right?”
Jiung blinked. “Hyung?”
“Can I call you hyung?” Intak asked, already nodding like the answer was yes. “Keeho told me a lot about you.”
Jiung looked over at Keeho. Keeho pretended to be fascinated by the ceiling.
Well, Jiung wasn’t too surprised that Intak knew about him. Keeho told Jiung a bit about him, too, since he was the roommate that stole Jiung’s spot.
Intak’s eyes flicked over to Taeyang. “Oh, and Taeyangie hyung! You came, too!”
Taeyangie hyung?
Jiung looked over at Taeyang who didn’t flinch whatsoever.
“I’m surprised. Jongseob told me it’s impossible to get you out of your man cave.”
Taeyang stared. “How could I have a man cave when I live on campus?”
Intak snorted. “Hyung, we both know the only other place you actually go is to the studio. Anyway, I didn’t know you had another friend other than Jongseob. He always said you only talk to him and professors.”
Taeyang bore no reaction. “Tell that brat to stop talking so much.”
Intak just burst out laughing.
So this was how Jiung learned more bits about Taeyang’s life? He had always assumed Taeyang kept to himself, that he didn’t talk to many people, but Intak’s rambling painted a different picture: a studio, friends, inside jokes, people who knew him well enough to tease him.
It hit Jiung harder than he expected. Taeyang had an entire world outside their dorm, one Jiung had never seen and would probably never know.
Intak kept yapping, bouncing between topics, even managing to drag Jiung into a drinking game while more students went up to sing. Jiung tried to keep up, but the room was loud, and he was getting exhausted from the way Intak was talking a mile a minute. Did everyone just get more chatty when they were drunk?
A few people tried talking to Taeyang, too—someone even tried flirting with him—but he shut down every attempt with the same expressionless stare that made people retreat like they had touched something hot.
As the night got longer, Jiung noticed a small bowl of mint candies sitting near the drinks on the table. He grabbed a few without thinking, slipping them into his pocket for later.
Luckily, Jiung only had to take two shots. At some point, he realized Taeyang wasn’t beside him anymore. He didn’t know when Taeyang had slipped out or for how long—he only noticed when someone shouted for Taeyang to come and sing.
Heads turned as they tried to find Taeyang, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Jiung felt relief wash over him, seeing this as a chance to escape the social situation. “I’ll go find him.”
No one protested.
Jiung left the room. He didn’t bother checking the other rooms or around the building because he had a feeling that Taeyang was outside.
He stepped out, the chilly air hitting his face immediately. He looked to his right, and sure enough, Taeyang was there.
Taeyang stood at the side of the building, leaning against the wall, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke curled lazily upward, catching the glow of the streetlight.
Jiung stopped a few feet away, heart thudding.
Taeyang didn’t look surprised to see him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. “You came out.”
“They were looking for you.”
Taeyang’s mouth curved, barely. “Of course they were.”
Jiung stepped closer, walking until he was right beside Taeyang. He could smell the ash radiating off of the other male.
He wasn’t aware that Taeyang smoked. Jiung had tried once in high school, but it didn’t feel as good as everyone made it out to be.
“You left without saying anything.”
“Yeah, well, someone was a little busy talking with everyone else.”
Jiung swallowed. “I’m sorry. I asked you to hang out, but I did the opposite.”
Taeyang kept his gaze forward. “Stop saying sorry, seriously. I’m not mad or anything. I’m only annoyed with Yoon Keeho. That guy—I should flick his forehead harder next time.”
Jiung huffed a quiet laugh. “So… you smoke?”
Taeyang glanced at the cigarette between his fingers, then let out a small breath through his nose. “I don’t usually. Just needed a minute.”
He took another drag, then paused. “You're accompanying me?”
Jiung nodded once. Hopefully no one came out to look for him either.
He stepped toward Taeyang and leaned his back against the wall next to him, his hand in his pocket, fiddling gently with the edges of the mint candies he had taken earlier. He considered offering one to Taeyang before deciding against it because the taste of mint after cigarette smoke probably wasn’t good.
For the next few moments, neither of them spoke.
They basked in the sound of a few vehicles driving past the street, in the smell of the ashy clouds that twirled up with every breath Taeyang took.
Jiung shifted his weight, thinking if he should maybe ask Taeyang about what he heard from Intak. Standing beside him like this made Jiung realize how bad he suddenly wanted to know.
Taeyang took another slow drag, both of them watching the smoke curl out in ribbons. Then, without looking at Jiung, he asked first, “Have you smoked before?”
“Only once,” Jiung replied. “Years ago.”
Taeyang hummed. “Thought so.”
Jiung glanced over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look like someone who’d cough their lungs out.”
Jiung scoffed. “I wouldn’t.”
Taeyang’s mouth curved. “Wanna test that?”
Jiung hesitated for a second. He didn’t remember how he had reacted back then; all he knew was that he didn’t enjoy the feeling.
There wasn’t much harm in trying once more. He nodded. “Fine.”
Taeyang angled his body toward him, Jiung followed. “Come here.” He held the cigarette up to his lips, leaning in.
Jiung’s breath caught as the distance between their faces closed ever so slightly.
“Breathe in when I breathe out,” he murmured. “It’s easier this way.”
Jiung nodded, though he wasn’t looking at the cigar anymore. His focus had narrowed to the shape of Taeyang’s face. His expression was soft, and the streetlights cast a glow over the side of his face. His lashes were longer than Jiung expected, but it accentuated his round features.
He stared at his lips, plump and a little chapped. They puckered out, and Jiung didn’t even realize that Taeyang had taken a drag and blew out the smoke. Jiung inhaled, catching the substance between his nerves too quickly.
The burn hit instantly.
He coughed hard, doubling over.
Taeyang straightened in alarm.
Jiung wheezed, his hand on the wall to keep him steady.
Taeyang stepped closer, one hand landing on top of his back to help. “You’re supposed to sip it, not inhale it like a vacuum.”
Jiung coughed, face burning. “Y–Yeah. Helpful advice. Thanks for telling me after the fact.”
Taeyang let out a laugh, a real one. It was short, low, and it tugged at the butterflies on Jiung’s torso.
He straightened slowly, wiping at his eyes as the last cough left him.
A few seconds passed before Taeyang asked an unexpected question. “Hey, do you have a tongue piercing?”
Jiung’s head snapped up. “What?”
Taeyang tilted his head, studying him for a moment. “When you coughed just now, I thought I saw something. Just curious.”
Jiung had forgotten about that, funnily enough. It had been in his mouth for so long, he hardly noticed it was there anymore. He had gotten it a while ago, back when he was still figuring himself out.
He cleared his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of his tongue. “Yeah. I… do.”
“Huh,” Taeyang said softly. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Should I be offended?”
Taeyang shook his head. “No, it’s just—”
He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s just that you look so…” he vaguely gestured at Jiung. “Innocent. Like a goody-two-shoes.”
“That’s how you see me? I can promise I’m not.”
“I know, but I'm just saying,” Taeyang said.
“You know?”
Taeyang tapped the cigarette once, eyes flicking down—not at Jiung’s face, but lower, like he was remembering something. “That one time you came back from running, I saw your tattoos. When your shirt rode up.”
Jiung’s ears began to burn at the knowledge that Taeyang had seen him basically shirtless. “You saw?”
“Mm.”
“You could’ve said something then.”
Taeyang shrugged, changing the topic. “I have a few, too. On my arms and… other places.”
Jiung stared at him, trying to imagine it—Taeyang with ink on his skin, adding more to the many layers he already had. Why did the fact that he also had tattoos make so much sense?
Then, with that same casual curiosity Taeyang always had, he asked, “So what’s it like? Having a tongue piercing?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never known anyone who had one. I’m just wondering if it felt weird.”
“Well… it was strange at first,” Jiung admitted. “I kept biting it by accident. And I talked funny for a week.”
Taeyang snorted. “I can picture that.”
Jiung rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
A beat passed, then Taeyang tilted his head against the wall behind them. His eyes flickered up to Jiung's face then down to his mouth. “Does it feel good?”
Jiung looked back at him, clueless.
The question hung there, heavier than the smoke between them. The way Taeyang’s gaze stayed fixed on Jiung’s lips made it clear what he was asking about.
Once Jiung saw Taeyang’s curious eyes gleam, he immediately averted contact.
He was feeling warmer than he should on a night as chilly as this. His tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth like it could hide the metal ball sitting on it. “Uh… sure,” his voice cracked on the word. “I mean, yeah. It’s fine.”
Taeyang shifted, and Jiung could feel the heat of his smoky breath burning against his probably red-shaded ear. “Just fine?”
Jiung’s pulse hammered in his throat. He didn’t expect their conversation to shift in this direction. His mind flashed to every half-hearted kiss he’d had before—quick, awkward things that never lasted long enough for someone to notice his piercing, let alone feel it.
He didn’t want to look over, afraid of what might happen. But he did anyway—his head moving on its own. Taeyang was right there, gazing down at him.
He gulped. “Just… fine.”
This wasn’t new. Taeyang had been like this since they met, but still, Jiung’s heart reacted like it was the first time.
“You don’t sound so sure.”
Jiung swallowed hard. The metal ball clinked against the back of his throat, a feeling he never lingered on because he never had to. Taeyang’s observation just heightened all his senses.
Looking at the taller male hovering beside him, his mind went soft around the edges. Like someone had picked in his brain and had taken an eraser to get rid of all the logical parts, leaving behind only panic and fluster. Usually, he’d have stepped back by now. He’d have run away and brushed it off because he wasn’t supposed to know what to do.
But right now, his feet stayed planted, feeling defenseless against those stupidly captivating pupils.
“I just… haven’t really…” Jiung trailed off, his chest fluttering under the light of the stars.
He lost count of how many seconds passed. He didn’t know when his head started moving. He didn’t know when he tilted his chin up so he could brush his lips against the plushness of Taeyang’s.
There was no motion at first, like Taeyang himself was caught off guard by Jiung’s action. Jiung almost pulled back, regret filling his mind, but Taeyang met his lips again, engulfing them softly.
Jiung could count how many people he had kissed on one hand, and none of those experiences matched the one he was having right now.
Taeyang’s mouth pressed firmer, his taller frame shifting over until Jiung felt the solid weight of him close the last inch between their bodies. Jiung’s lips parted under the pressure, and Taeyang slid his tongue past them with no hesitation, brushing straight against the small metal ball resting on Jiung’s tongue.
The wet contact made Jiung’s breath hitch. It felt like his face was melting in hot wax, and the taste of cigarettes dispersed in his mouth. Taeyang slowly dragged his tongue over the piercing, causing it to roll slightly. It sent an electric shock down his spine, and his hands squirmed, trying to find a place on the wall behind him.
Taeyang didn’t pull away; instead, he licked across the stud again, slower this time, like he was testing how it felt, how it moved, how Jiung’s mouth reacted.
Jiung’s knees felt loose. He brought his arms up, fingers curling around the front of Taeyang’s hoodie to keep himself steady. Every stroke of Taeyang’s tongue made the metal clink softly against teeth, and each tiny sound seemed to spur him on. He tilted his head, sucking lightly on Jiung’s lower lip before pushing back in to chase the piercing once more.
Jiung tried to keep up, but his inexperience showed in the clumsy way his mouth moved. A small whimper slipped out of him, muffled instantly as Taeyang swallowed it down like he was starving for the sound. Their tongues slid together again, the stud rolling and clicking, until Taeyang finally tore his mouth away with a sharp inhale.
They both breathed hard, the air around feeling way too hot. Taeyang’s eyes were darker now, pupils blown wide, lips shiny and swollen. Jiung was dazed, completely out of it.
Jiung didn’t know how long they stayed like that, breathing in each other’s space, staring into each other’s eyes. He tried to gather himself, tried to breathe normally again. His fingers were still curled in the front of Taeyang’s hoodie, and he didn’t know when he had grabbed him or why he hadn’t let go yet.
Taeyang didn’t seem bothered.
If anything, he looked focused. On Jiung. Entirely.
“We should,” Taeyang managed to mutter, his breath still hot against Jiung’s, “get back to the dorm.”
Jiung blinked hard, head still spinning from the kiss. “Y–Yeah. Okay.”