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The first time Taesan is alone with Sungho, he has a feeling.
And not one of those warm and fuzzy feelings. Taesan can’t rely on something as flimsy as that. It was something solid and tangible. something he could’ve grabbed out of thin air. Something that he’s been craving since the day he was born. It was short and sweet, passable as fluke if you blink, but Taesan’s able to cling to anything that gleams of hope.
There was a time when Sungho was almost nothing to him. No more than just a friend of a friend. A forgettable face in a sea full of names he doesn’t dare to know. Yet another person he met through Jaehyun, ever the social butterfly who never seems to give up on indoctrinating Taesan into his group of friends. Always planning functions and making group chats that Taesan rarely even talks in. It’s a nice gesture, his inclusive mindset, but no company can quite stifle the empty feeling that follows.
It’s summer, and Jaehyun’s planning another outing with his usual ensemble of friends that Taesan doesn’t really feel like going to but he’s not doing anything and has barely left his house since he finished classes. So, he finds himself tagging along, lingering at the back of their cluster of six, as they walk to the arcade (phase two of Jaehyun’s three-phase plan for today, after lunch and before a movie night at Jaehyun’s). He’s half tuned in to whatever Jaehyun and Woonhak are bickering about and to Riwoo making fun of how terrible Leehan is at League of Legends.
He doesn’t even notice that he’s being spoken to until he feels a poke in the arm, and he turns to see the source of it, Sungho, is hanging back beside him.
“You still with us?” he chides, a smile on his face.
Taesan nods, not quite having the energy for a verbal response. The arcade’s still a good hundred feet away from them, but he can already hear the headache-inducing chaos going on inside of it.
“They’re kinda a lot, right?” Sungho asks, nodding his head towards the four in front of them.
“Kinda is an understatement,”
Sungho snorts out a laugh and nods, stopping outside the doors of the arcade while the other four pile in without missing a beat.
”If you’re feeling drained, I don’t mind sitting out here with you,” He suggests, gesturing toward a ledge against the wall of the building.
Taesan eyes the ledge, then Sungho, and shuffles his way over to sit down.
He’s not really sure what this is all about, seeing as he barely knows the guy, but at least Taesan knows he’s not the only one whose energy is being sapped up with every second he spends out here.
Sungho silently sits beside him, and the silence of it all is reminding Taesan exactly why he doesn’t do this kind of thing. It’s easy to just hang back and say nothing, and pretend like he’s not dreading every second with himself. It’s easy to do that on his own. It just makes him feel guilty when he drags other people into his distorted, fucked up bubble.
“I don’t wanna keep you… if you wanna go play.”
Sungho doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t even grace him with a response for a good thirty seconds. He just stares in front of them, at the crowds of people walking by.
“I kinda get it, y’know?” He starts, “Sometimes it’s like there’s a wall between me and them.”
“How so?”
Taesan eyes Sungho, and takes in the way he stares into space, how he’s picking at the skin around his nails, the sharp angles of his facial features, and the tone of his voice that feels a lot more serious than when they were walking over here.
“I like Jaehyun. I like all of them.” Sungho continues, “But sometimes it just feels like I'm out of place. Like, no matter how welcoming or nice they are, I just feel... I dunno…” He trails off.
Typically, Taesan has a pretty low tolerance for this type of… conversation. The soul bearing, vulnerable kind. Especially with someone so new. Any other time he’d be trying to get away, to steer them somewhere else, but he feels stuck in place. Like all he can do is listen.
“…and it's just… it’s been this way my whole life.. It's so discouraging. It makes me feel like… I dunno. Like it’ll always be like this?”
Taesan picks a rock at his feet to gaze at, and nods his head, face feeling warm and fingers all tingly.
“Sorry, that was a lot to spring on someone I barely know.” Sungho mumbles shyly.
“No,” Taesan shakes his head, not quite meeting Sungho’s eyes but making a valiant attempt, “I think I know what you mean.”
Sungho nods in return, leaning back against the wall, still fidgeting and picking.
It’s quiet for a while, and Taesan can feel his heart in his throat for a reason he’s not sure of.
Whatever it is, it's not right. He wants to say something. He wants to agree and say he relates, to ease Sungho’s nerves with his own vulnerability, to fill the silence, to hear the other’s voice. But he knows he can’t.
“You ever feel like…”
Taesan doesn’t know Sungho. They’ve never talked more than five sentences to each other at a time. And it’s so strange, because something tells Taesan otherwise.
“…You’re never really yourself,”
It’s so strange.
“No matter where you go?”
Sungho turns his head and looks Taesan in the eye, like he senses the same thing. It’s out of nowhere, no preamble, no nothing. It’s broad daylight, and certainly not the time nor place for this kind of thing. Yet somehow, Sungho reached into Taesan’s head, pierced through his skin and drilled through his skull and dipped into the flesh of his brain and said his thoughts out loud.
“Yeah,” Taesan stifles a grin, “All the time.”
The first time Taesan opens up to Sungho is also the first time Sungho lets him down.
Sungho regretted it immediately, honestly. It never should’ve happened because he knows better and he knows Taesan knows that he knows better and that’s exactly what makes it so terrible.
It’s a Thursday night, past 2am at that (so technically Friday), and Sungho has been in the studio all damn day working on his midterm architecture model. He never should've put it off until this late, but preparing for his art history exam was a heavier workload than expected and set him back pretty damn far.
Which is usually fine because Sungho’s pretty good at clutching up when he needs to but for some reason tonight just wasn’t in his favor. Midway through the construction of his model he realized the scale was off from his drawing, and had to backtrack about an hour’s worth of progress to fix it. On top of that, while checking the scale of his drawing he realized he hadn’t drawn all of the views that were required, which turned into another hour of work.
But it’s still fine because things happen and college is hard and there’s no way around it and it doesn’t even matter anymore because hunger and sleepiness are on the forefront of his mind and any concerns about his 8am crit tomorrow aren’t relevant right now.
He swings open the door to his apartment, slips off his shoes, and dumps his bag on the couch in the living area. He pads over to the kitchen and opens the fridge for his Chinese leftovers that…
“The hell?”
Sungho all but slams the door shut because he’s not really worried about disturbing anyone because he knows his roommate is awake.
He knocks quietly, despite the fact, because at this point he still has just about an inch of composure left to grip onto. Which he does.
“Taesan?”
“Come in,”
He pushes the door open and sees Taesan lounging in his bed, looking at Sungho expectantly.
“Did you eat my food?”
“The leftovers?”
“What else?” Sungho fails to stifle his annoyance at Taesan’s trademark method of beating around the bush.
“Uh, yeah, I did, sorry,” He replies, breaking eye contact and Sungho can feel himself start to seethe at the insincerity of it all. Because he didn’t really seem all that sorry but the other thing is that Taesan often doesn’t seem like anything because that’s how he is.
So really, this should’ve been where he cut his losses and walked away. The food’s gone, it’s late, and arguing isn’t going to do anything but lose him even more sleep. But that deeper-than-it-seemed puddle that Sungho stepped in on the walk back just about derailed his typically pristine ability to de-escalate his own emotions.
“Are you fucking serious?”
It comes out more aggressive than he meant, the proof being in the way Taesan flinches at the words.
“Can’t you just make something?”
“Taesan, you know damn well we don’t have anything else to fucking eat!” Sungho can hear his voice getting louder, and can see the way Taesan shrinks into himself at the sound.
“I said I'm sorry. You don’t have to yell.”
“You’re sorry? Do you even think about other people when you do shit like this,” Sungho bites, “or do you just do it and hope they forgive you?” He hears his one voice ringing in his ears.
“Hyung, it’s just food, can you please stop yelling?”
“It’s not just about the food, it’s about you Taesan.”
He sits up a bit at that.
“The hell does that mean?”
Here Sungho knows for sure that he should just let it go. He should’ve but he’s exhausted from working and angry at himself for fucking up his model, and starving from not eating all day and wondering if he even wants to go into architecture anymore and he can feel it all spilling over.
“Just because you don’t care about anything doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”
Sungho sees Taesan’s lips mimic the words “don’t care” and realizes he really went too far.
“Ah, Taesan I didn’t mean—“
“If you think I don’t care then why the hell don’t you go and live with someone else then?”
“I didn’t mean—“
“No! Don’t fucking talk to me like that, asshole,” he shouts, hopping out of bed to get in Sungho’s face.
Sungho can see the glassy look in his eyes.
“Taesan you know I—“
“Stop fucking talking.” Taesan cuts him off, “Get out.”
He doesn’t really give Sungho the opportunity, shoving him into the hallways and slamming the door in his face.
They both know it wasn’t ever about Taesan being difficult or Sungho being stubborn. Those things were just simple facts of life. It was the statement, even the idea, that Taesan “doesn’t care”.
Because in reality, Taesan probably cares more than anyone Sungho has met in his entire life.
Sungho knows this. He’s known Taesan for a short time, but knows this better than anything. Sungho’s perceptive, and he notices how Taesan also notices just about everything. The way he remembers how Sungho likes his coffee, the times of his classes, and what he likes to do in his free time. He’s knows that Sungho cleans when he’s stressed, and picks at his skin when he’s nervous. He couldn’t hide that he cares even if he tried, because it’s so damn obvious.
Which is why Sungho can’t wrap his head around his own words. It’s been months, and he’s learned a lot about Taesan. He’s kind and means well, but he can be prickly and rude and avoidant and annoying. More than anything, and no matter how much he tries to hide it, he’s sensitive to the way other people treat him and Sungho knows the last thing he should’ve done was raise his voice at him.
He stood outside Taesan’s door for about ten minutes, debating whether or not he should apologize or let it marinate because he’s never really upset the other like this and has no clue how to handle it.
The pros of knocking would be that Sungho could nip this whole thing in the bud and apologize, and sleep with a clean conscience. The cons would be that the whole thing is still fresh and sensitive, and he might end up rubbing salt in the wound. So, he opts to stare at the pitch black ceiling of his own room, heartbeat in his ears and sinking feeling in his gut.
The next morning, Sungho’s out of bed by 5am to get ready for his crit, but also because he didn’t get more than seven minutes of sleep last night. He steps out of his room and lingers outside of Taesan’s across the hall, wondering if he’s in a similar state of unrest. He gets as far as his knuckles hovering over the solid wood of the door before he loses his courage and drags his feet to the living area.
It’s early. It’s late September and the sky is only just beginning to lighten up and there’s three hours until he even needs to be at the studio. Sungho isn’t really a breakfast guy and he couldn’t keep food down even if he tried.
“Hyung, it’s just food, can you please stop yelling?”
Sungho’s stomach twists at recalling the events of last night. It really was just food. It was never that serious, no matter how stressed he was feeling. He didn’t need to raise his voice. He never should’ve made a dig at Taesan like that.
He glances down the hall, staring at the door hoping he can telepathically send Taesan everything on his mind.
It’s been five months since they met and they’ve never fought like this before, let alone over something so stupid. Moreso, Sungho’s never seen the other get so upset. Taesan can be irritable and opinionated and a pain in the ass but above all he’s reserved and observant and when he messes up he feels pretty bad about it. Disputes with him never really go any farther than a bit of back and forth, some passive aggressive comments here and there before they settle it and make peace. Most noticeably, Taesan doesn’t really get emotional. He doesn’t cry and his voice doesn’t shake and he rarely ever yells which is exactly why Sungho is so worried because last night he was so out of character.
Sungho’s phone starts buzzing, displaying the time as 6:40, telling him that he’s been thinking on the couch for almost 2 hours and reminding him that he actually has to get ready for his critique.
His instructor’s harsh as always, but nothing he can’t handle. Or, nothing he can’t handle when he’s not being crushed by insurmountable grief. Any constructive criticism feels like twisting the knife, and bashing Sungho’s head into a brick wall, so much so that he barely even processes what he could improve on or what he did well. All he heard was that he’s a shit-ass designer and an even shittier friend and he couldn’t even pay attention to his classmates' work because all he could think about was Taesan.
Sungho leaves the studio at 10:30, the critique thankfully being the only thing on his schedule this Friday, and the whole walk back he considers how he’s going to approach this situation.
Taesan’s probably up by now, but he’s not going to make the first move. He knows about my crit, but he probably doesn’t know when it’s over so he might not be hiding in his room. He’s definitely going to try to avoid me so I need to talk to him before he runs away—
He pushes open the door to their apartment as sees… Nobody.
So he’s still in his room.
Sungho tentatively steps up to Taesan’s door and knocks, “Taesanie? Are you awake?”
No response.
“Are you hungry? I just picked up some groceries, so I can cook you something,”
Silence.
He knew Taesan was going to be avoidant, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad.
Sungho sighs and decides to camp out on the couch where he’ll catch Taesan when he inevitably leaves his room.
Except, it’s never really that easy with Taesan.
Hours go by, late morning becomes afternoon and afternoon creeps into evening, and it's nearing 5pm with no sign of Taesan. And like any normal person, Sungho is concerned, and has knocked on Taesan’s door about 4 times since his first attempt. Still no luck.
Waving off the insistent feeling that he’s being overbearing and that Taesan just needs space, Sungho pulls out his phone to text him.
sungho: hey
sungho: are you okay? can we talk?
He shuts his phone off immediately after, already feeling scared for whatever will come out of this, whether it’s Taesan ignoring him even more or cursing him out over the phone (because Taesan can be really mean if he wants to be).
Almost an entire hour goes by before Taesan gets back to him,
taesan: i’m at jaehyunnie hyung’s
sungho: oh okay
sungho: when will you be back?
seen 4 minutes ago
Sungho figures that’s about all he’s gonna get out of him.
At least he’s with Jaehyun and not alone, but it hurts to think he’s going this far to get away.
He considers texting Jaehyun himself to try to get some info out of him, and gets as far as typing “you’re with taesan right?” before deciding that might just make things worse.
It’s 12pm on Saturday and Sungho is napping because he’s still recovering from his hellish week and guilt is easier to stave off when you're asleep. He’d just started fading out of consciousness when he heard the front door click shut followed by poorly silenced shuffling and realized that there’s only one possible source of the noise..
He scrambled out of bed and swung open his door to see Taesan balancing a bag stuffed full of clothes on his arm with his free hand on the knob to his own room.
“Taesan,”
“Um,”
“Let’s talk.”
Taesan blinks and looks Sungho up and down before turning his head away and Sungho can practically hear him thinking up an escape plan.
“I gotta put my stuff down,” he says, starting to push open the door.
“Just drop it right here,” Sungho lightly tugs the sleeve of his t-shirt, “Come to the kitchen.”
Taesan, unexpectedly, does not put up much of a fight, and drops his bag on the wooden floor and allows himself to be ushered to the kitchen table.
Taesan’s looking at him with an unreadable expression, the same one he wears 90% of the time, the one that makes it impossible to know what he’s thinking.
Sungho sits across from him, script writing itself in his mind. He’s thought it over a million times, since the moment Taesan slammed that door.
“I’m sorry for how I yelled at you, Taesan. I should’ve never talked to you like that, especially not over something so trivial.” Sungho tries to maintain eye contact the best he can, but he’s noticed neither he nor Taesan are very good at it. “I knew I messed up the moment it happened, and I've been thinking about it nonstop ever since. I was stressed and upset, and I took it out on you, and I feel terrible about it.”
Taesan’s looking away, down at the table, and Sungho can’t stop picking at his nails waiting for him to say something, anything.
He sighs, and looks up to say, “It’s okay, hyung.” He pauses like he’s thinking, and looks back down again, “I’m sorry too,”
“No, Taesan, you didn’t do anything. I started it.”
“I ate your food. Plus, I yelled at you too,”
It doesn’t feel right at all, Sungho thinks, for Taesan to believe that he needs to apologize. “That’s because… What I said was really out of place. It was about my leftovers, but I said stuff about you that I didn’t mean at all.”
“Right…” Taesan shifts in his seat at that, like he’s mulling something over. “I… I’m kinda lying. I know I said it’s okay, but,”
Taesan fidgets with his hands on the table, and from Sungho’s perspective he seems so small and fragile. Like he might shatter with the next word he says. Nothing like his usual self. Reminiscent of Thursday night.
“I shouldn’t have eaten your food. I know that. I was lazy, didn’t feel like cooking, whatever. I should’ve expected that you’d be mad. It was completely reasonable for you to be mad, and I felt bad about it.” He pauses, and takes a deep breath, “But… when you said that ‘it’s about me’, that I don’t care, and don’t think about other people…”
Sungho nods along, and takes in every word the other says and he figures this might be the most he’s ever heard Taesan speak in one go.
“…It’s been a few months, and I trust you, hyung. You’ve been able to understand me in such a short amount of time. I feel more of a… a connection with you than most people I know combined. I mean, for me, it’s only you and Jaehyunnie hyung, y’know?” Taesan speaks, voice starting to waver, “So when you said those things to me… and I just can’t stand when people yell at me y’know… Like, it felt like I was being betrayed. You know I… being with people is hard for me… but I want to be better. And I know that you know this, yet you still said it.”
It already hurt enough, on Sungho’s end, just to be aware of the fact that he hurt Taesan, but it hurts even more to hear him say himself.
“I do know it, Taesan. I see all the time, how hard you try. How you push yourself out of your comfort zone for me. I know how much you care about…” Sungho wants to say us, but settles on flicking his index finger between the two of him and says, “this,”
“I know you know. I know you didn’t mean it and that you weren’t trying to hurt me but when things like this happen my brain just tells me that it’s over. That you hate me and that I have to run away and move on.”
His voice is quivering like he’s terrified and his eyes are fixed on the table and Sungho sees the way his hands fidget right in front of him and can’t fight the urge to reach across to hook his index finger around Taesan’s pinky finger.
Something about this whole thing is still making Sungho feel sick. It feels like he’s seeing a younger, sharper-tongued version of himself across the table, fragile and pitiful and terrified. Taesan’s words sink into his skin and find home like it’s the most natural thing ever. And it hurts because Taesan’s so aware of himself, speaking like he’s said all this a million times, like it’s not even a big deal to him anymore, but Sungho knows that if he leaves him alone he’s gonna shatter from the inside out.
He’s been here before.
“I never want you to feel that way. What can I do to help you?”
Taesan shifts his hand to hold onto Sungho’s index and middle fingers, “Well for starters, don’t be a jerk,” he scoffs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I said sorry…” Sungho groans, hanging his head.
Taesan flashes a crooked grin at his response and Sungho swells over how Taesan’s forgiven him enough to crack jokes and smile. “I know, I know, I'm just messing around.”
The first time Taesan gets wasted, Sungho sees something he probably shouldn’t have.
“Hey…you gotta take him home or something,”
Jaehyun jerks a thumb in the direction of Taesan, who’s just about passed out, head collapsed on his forearms, resting on the table.
“He’s, like, gone.” He laughs out, pretty fucked up himself.
Sungho is personally a comfortable amount of drunk, definitely more than tipsy but still aware of his surroundings and down on earth. Just enough for his mind to be pleasantly calmed from its usual state of turmoil.
He’s been listlessly chatting with Jaehyun and Riwoo, over food and soju, and didn’t even consider that Taesan was so quiet because he was too fucking drunk to keep his head up.
“Yah, Taesan-ah,” Sungho says, lightly shaking shaking his arm, “Can you stand up? We’re gonna leave now okay?”
Taesan mumbles something Sungho can’t catch before slowly lifting his head. His eyes are empty and his hair is a mess and Sungho can tell that he’s definitely done for the night. “C’mon, I’ll help you up.” He says, getting up to wrap the other’s arm around his shoulder. “We’ll see you guys later,”
“Get home safe,” Riwoo smiles, and Sungho figures the two of them are gonna linger for a bit longer.
Luckily for him, they weren’t that far from their apartment, and he only had to drag Taesan a few blocks. He was able to walk with Sungho’s support at his waist, though each step was crooked and sloppy and threatened to take both of them tumbling to the ground if they walked too fast.
“Hyung,”
“Yeah?”
“…”
“Yeah, Taesan?”
“…hyung,”
“We’re almost home.”
It’s cold, the wind is biting and Sungho’s worried that the thin long sleeve that Taesan insisted on wearing isn’t enough to keep him warm. Taesan mumbles to himself the whole way back.
Sungho and Taesan are college students. And college students drink a shit ton of alcohol. It’s a natural fact of life that’s been perpetuated for decades, and rightfully so because, in most cases, extensive drinking is the only way to cope with the insane workloads and the sleep deprivedness and the questions about whether or not your degree is even worth it.
So, naturally, Sungho has seen drunk Taesan many times.
But he’s genuinely never seen him this wasted. Once he pushes the door to their apartment, Taesan’s legs entirely give out and, being practically wrapped around Sungho, almost causes them both to tumble to the floor. Sungho catches him, steadies himself, and continues to drag them into Taesan’s room to sit him down on the bed against the wall. He still looks dazed, like he’s somewhere else.
“Let me get you some water.”
“Mm,”
He steps out to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and a trash bag because it’s highly unlikely that Taesan’s gonna make it through the night without throwing up at least once. He comes back to the room to see Taesan in the same exact position he left him in, zoning out into the space in front of him.
“Here, sip on this,” Sungho instructs, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing over the water, “Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?”
“Mm,”
“Okay, well, I brought a bag, so. It’s here.”
As Taesan brings the water to his lips Sungho considers the way that despite being destroyed on soju and barely able to function, the younger is just as endearing as ever. He seems so fragile despite his height and hard exterior and Sungho worries he might up and die if he takes his eyes off of him for too long.
He sips the water and Sungho sees the glassiness of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks and feels his heart swell.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk,”
“Sorry,”
“Don’t be sorry, Taesan-ah,” Sungho soothes, “I just wanna make sure you’re okay,”
Taesan hunches over about with furrowed eyebrows and Sungho’s pretty sure he knows what that means and holds out the plastic bag. He gags into the bag and Sungho rubs his arm, something he’d probably never do if he wasn’t also a bit intoxicated himself.
“Ugh, I hate this,” Taesan mumbles, breathing into the bag, “I don’t wanna do this anymore, fuck.”
“Drink some more water.”
Sungho takes the bag and ties it loosely in case they need it again, and hands him the water back.
“I feel fucking disgusting,” Taesan slurs, gripping the bottle in his hand.
“Yeah that’ll happen,”
Taesan fixes his gaze onto Sungho, big, brown, glassy pools boring into his own. He’s not himself at all.
“Taesanie, drink more-“
“Hyung, come here,” Taesan blurts out, steadying himself on a hand to lean over to Sungho’s perch on the edge of his bed. “You’re so far. C’mere…please,” He’s on hands and knees, grabbing Sungho’s arm and pulling him fully into the bed.
“Okay, okay, just sit down. You’re gonna fall.”
Sungho guides Taesan back into sitting against the headboard and takes the space right across from him, “This better?”
“Mm,” He nods, “It… it felt like you were trying to get away from me,”
“I just thought you might need some space,”
“I don’t wanna be alone.”
The sudden confession comes out of left field, shocks Sungho and makes his mouth dry and his gut twist with the question of what could have possibly prompted that?
“I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, right?”
“I’m tired of it being like this,”
“What? Like what, Taesan?”
“It’s so suffocating,”
Sungho licks his lips, “…Do you want to lay down?”
“Mm,” Taesan hums, flopping down onto his side.
“Let me get you some clothes to change into,”
Sungho searches Taesan’s closets and drawers, coming across some of his own missing clothes, in search of wherever the younger keeps his pajamas. Eventually, he pulls out a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like his own, some sweatpants, and some makeup wipes and sits back down on the bed.
“Here, Taesanie, change into this. And wipe off your eyeliner,” and all he gets in response is a grunt, and something unintelligible.
“C’mon, work with me here,”
Taesan rolls over onto his back and mumbles, “Don’t wanna,”
Sungho grabs his hand and starts to take off his bracelets, “You shouldn’t sleep in your outside clothes,” He dotes, “and you’re lucky I’m not dragging you to the bathroom to make you wash up,”
Taesan doesn’t say anything, and just stares at the ceiling.
Sungho sighs and reaches up to remove Taesan’s necklaces as well. “Even when you’re drunk you’re so damn stubborn, Taesan-ah,”
“…Yup,”
He reaches up to his ears and removes Taesan’s dangly earrings that’d probably poke him in his sleep, and places all the jewelry on his nightstand. “Think you can do the rest?”
Taesan groans, and pushes himself up, leaning head-first onto Sungho’s shoulder. “I guess,”
Sungho hands him the clothes, and Taesan immediately begins to unbutton his jeans and slip them off, and Sungho whips his head in the other direction so fast it makes the room spin.
“What’re you looking away forrr?” Taesan whines out. Sungho sees his discarded jeans get tossed off the bed and hears some shuffling that must be him sliding on the sweatpants. “Hyung,”
“It’s impolite to watch people change, Taesan-ah,”
“Sungho hyung gets a pass in my book,” He argues, tugging on the back of Sungho’s shirt.
The way Taesan’s asking him to watch him change his clothes with a whine in his voice is awakening something carnal in Sungho’s mind. He’s drunk, is what he keeps telling himself to stay grounded. To keep himself from reading too much into it. Taesan’s just drunk and he’s fragile and he wants Sungho’s attention and Sungho wants to make sure Taesan goes to bed feeling okay. That’s all there is to it.
“I’m flattered,” Sungho shakes his head, shifting to face the younger again because he has a feeling he’s not going to drop it.
“You’re too easy, hyung,” Taesan slurs and Sungho wants to remind him of how he could've dropped Taesan in his room and went off to sleep half an hour ago, or gotten him a ride home from the restaurant instead and left him on his own, but chose to stay because he was worried. He wants to tell him off for not knowing his limits and drinking so excessively, but he plays along.
“I guess I am,”
Taesan reaches behind his neck to pull his shirt over his head and Sungho feels his face heat up just from the action as he realizes this is probably the most intimate thing he and Taesan have ever done, and all it is is watching the other get changed. His mind is still cloudy from the soju and when he sees Taesan’s bare skin under the dim light of his room it almost doesn’t register to him what he’s looking at.
The first thing Sungho considers is how he never noticed. It’s mid November and he hasn’t seen Taesan without a jacket or a hoodie or anything of the sort, and rightfully so because it’s cold as shit, but he thinks back to the summer and doesn’t remember anything like this. The second thing he thinks is why. He’s not an idiot. He knows why, really. Taesan’s a mystery on some fronts, and Sungho realizes he doesn’t know him as well as he’d like to admit. Taesan’s been fighting something at least as long as Sungho’s known him, and that’s nothing in the scheme of it all. The third thing he realizes is that he’s been staring. Silent, eyes fixed on an array of scars scattering Taesan’s upper arms and torso, varying in healing and some fresher than Sungho’s conscience can bear.
Sungho looks up to meet Taesan’s eyes just to see him staring back, a small, almost disturbing smile curling on his lips. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No, I—”
“It’s okay, most people usually are. I’m used to it.” Taesan interrupts before Sungho can even start, “But you’re kinda different from other people.”
He leans forward and shakily crawls closer into Sungho’s personal space, damn near into his lap.
“Can I tell you something?”
Sungho does another quick once over of Taesan’s bare torso at the newfound proximity. He doesn't know how to react. He doesn’t know what the right reaction is. All he can do is remind himself that Taesan isn’t in his right mind and that this means nothing. “Of course,” he swallows thickly.
“I really can’t stand myself. I hate myself and I never change,” Taesan admits, “I’ve been the same, fucked up person since I was born, and I never get better.”
The words sizzle with contempt as they leave his mouth, and Sungho wants to tell him to stop talking like that but he can’t think of any words and Taesan looks too sincere under the warm glow of the lamp on his bedside table.
“But,” He pauses, and grabs Sungho’s hand and places it on his forearm, “I think you can save me.”
Sungho feels the lines of raised, irregular skin under his touch, and rubs his fingers against them in fascination. It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t know what Taesan’s talking about and he doesn’t even know when taking care of him turned into this but Taesan’s grinning at him like it’s something special and Sungho thinks it might be.
“I can save you?
The first time they talk about that night is technically the second time.
It’s been 11 days since Sungho woke up in Taesan’s bed, grabbed his things and tiptoed out, and contemplated what his next move should be (accompanied by vague deja vu from their fight a couple months prior).
It’s also been 11 days since he tried to talk to Taesan about it. It being a multitude of things that occurred that night. Sungho didn’t really know where to start, not that he got the chance to.
The moment Sungho heard Taesan leave his room he stands up, waits a few moments for good measure, and steps out of the room and into the kitchen where he can hear Taesan digging through the pantry.
“Morning,”
“Morning,” Taesan replies, barely even audible.
Sungho chews his lip, trying to muster the courage to bring this up to the ever-unapproachable Han Taesan. “You feeling better?”
“Yup. All good.”
“That’s good,” Sungho mumbles, “Can we talk about… y’know, last night,”
Taesan turns to look at Sungho, a blank expression on his face that just makes Sungho even more nervous. “I’d rather not, honestly.”
“I don’t really want to either but… I think we should.”
“Maybe later,”
“Taesan, the longer we put it off it’s just gonna—“
“God, can you just drop it? Please?”
So no. It didn’t go very well.
It’s been 3 days since he last saw Taesan, since he’s been on and off sleeping over at Jaehyun’s again. A sickening repetition, just when Sungho thought Taesan was letting him in.
It clouds his mind every second of the day, the sight of Taesan’s littered skin, his delicate demeanor, the way he begged Sungho to stay close to him, and the tenderness of the whole night despite the underlying, disturbing tinge to it. Sungho can’t sleep, eat, work, exist without it running rampant in his mind. And if it’s fucking with him this bad he can only guess how bad it’s affecting Taesan. His empty room, vacant seat at the table, black strands of hair that Sungho couldn’t mistake even if he tried, it’s all haunting him. Haunting him like a ghost, like Taesan’s dead when all he’s really been is absent but something about that makes Sungho’s chest hurt really bad.
The only thing, Sungho finds, that remotely helps with the insistent aching of his heart and twisting of his intestines is something Taesan always teased him for.
He’d always ask, “Hyung, what’s your obsession with keeping everything clean?”
And Sungho would always just shrug him off, say he just likes it, and that messiness kind of irks him. He never thought that much into it. He’s been a clean person for all of his life. But, for some reason, that wasn’t good enough for Taesan.
“Why do you have to make it seem like this place hasn’t been lived in?”
“I don’t know. It just makes me feel better.”
Sungho starts with his own room of course, though, there’s not a lot to be done in there. He supposes that it’s quite reflective of how he’s been feeling, if you equate the cleanliness to Sungho’s mental turmoil.
There weren’t any dishes in the kitchen sink since the usual offender isn’t around, so he just wiped down the counters and organized the fridge. He bleached the bathroom until the fumes made him dizzy, and cleaned off the furniture in the living room.
When it comes to the shelf, Sungho ends up standing and staring. It’s small, but filled with trinkets and pictures of friends, some games that he and Taesan like to play, a couple of Sungho’s cardboard models, and some of Taesan’s vinyl overflow that wouldn’t fit on his own shelf. It feels like an amalgamation of both of their lives, and an incessant reminder that Sungho’s alone in this house again.
Taesan’s room is off limits, typically. He’s not here to enforce it, and Sungho respects it, but his door just feels like another wall between the two of them that Sungho just can’t break down. Neither of them are good at this, really. Sungho knows Taesan’s relying on him to catch him when he falls, but he’s unsure if Taesan knows that Sungho’s relying on him in turn.
“Hello?”
“Sungho-yah, you’ve gotta do something, dude,” He hears Jaehyun whine over the phone. “This kid’s a mess and me and Riwoo don’t know how to help him.”
“I think I'm the last person he wants to talk to, honestly.”
“What even happened?”
Sungho sighs, because if Jaehyun doesn’t get to know then he’s definitely screwed. “You’ll have to ask him that.”
“He won’t tell me!”
“Then you don’t get to know, sorry.”
Jaehyun groans, “Then you need to come get him or something. He’s eating all our food and keeps kicking me out of my room. Why am I sleeping on the couch in my own apartment?!”
Sungho scoffs at the thought of poor Jaehyun being shoved off of the bed by Taesan. “I dunno Jaehyun-ah, you should be happy that he’s confiding in you,”
“I mean, of course I am. But I'm starting to wonder what the difference between confiding and freeloading is for him.”
“Hah, good luck with that one,” Sungho laughs. He thinks for a second, that he wishes it were as simple as showing up at their door and bringing Taesan back home and talking it out and making up. He just doesn’t have the guts to be his usual forward, confrontational self anymore. There’s too much on the line. “Tell him to text me, if you can. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”
“Yeah, yeah, I will. But you should really tell him yourself.”
“Yeah, I know. Bye Jaehyun.”
The next morning, around 8am, Sungho hears a knock on the door and jumps out of his bed and speedwalks a bit faster than he’d like to admit to answer the door.
If he thought about it for more than 5 seconds and wasn’t so out of his mind he’d realize that if it was Taesan he’d have a key and open the door himself, and wouldn’t be so surprised when he saw Riwoo standing in the hall.
“Oh. Hi.”
“Hey, um, sorry for coming by like this, but I wanted to talk to you.” He says, shyly.
“No, no, you’re okay, come in.”
Sungho rubs the sleep out of his eyes and leads Riwoo to the couch in the living room. He slept like shit, just like he has every day since the incident, but Riwoo wouldn’t be here this early if it weren’t important so he’s gonna suck it up. “Can I get you anything? A snack, or a drink, or something?”
“No, that’s okay,” He replies, visibly nervous, “I’m here about Taesan.”
Sungho tries to stifle a visceral reaction to the mention of his name, and be as calm as he possibly can be. “Taesan? Did something happen?”
“No, nothing new. He told me what happened by the way,”
“He told you and not Jaehyun?”
“Yeah, I was surprised too, but he only really told me a little bit. It was very vague. I think he thought Jaehyun would ask too many questions or try to step in.”
“Well, isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”
Riwoo chuckles to himself and smiles at Sungho, “Yeah, I guess I am.”
This whole situation is making Sungho feel weird. That he’s talking about Taesan like this. It’s something he’s always tried to avoid, he’s always wanted to keep their business between them, and it’s upsetting that it’s come to an outside source.
“I just can’t watch you guys do this anymore. I heard your phone call with Jaehyun last night, and he’s right. You need to come get Taesan because he’s not gonna leave on his own.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No… I'm just guessing, really. But I think it’s safe to say that you’re the best person for him to see right now.”
Sungho can’t deny that it feels good to hear that, but he can’t help but doubt it. “I don’t know, if he wanted to see me he’d just come home.”
“Sungho, you should know better than anyone else how stubborn he can be.”
All Sungho can do is laugh. It’s true but he doesn’t want to pull when Taesan won’t push. He wants to help him but he doesn’t want to hurt him even more.
“Right,”
Riwoo just stares at him, like he knows he’s still unsure. “I’m serious, Sungho.” He sighs and looks around the room like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know him well. I’ve only heard things through Jaehyun. But I can tell. He needs you. It’s only gonna get worse if you keep waiting.”
Sungho chews his lip, peels the skin and feels it sting, “Yeah, I know.”
The first time Sungho sees Taesan cry it feels like a resolution
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Knock
Knock
Knock
Jaehyun’s face lights up the second he swings the door open, and pulls Sungho into the apartment.
“Follow me, he’s in my room,”
Sungho can feel his heart threatening to come up his throat and out of his mouth with each step towards Jaehyun’s room, the walk feeling like it’s in slow motion. Jaehyun knocks on the door, “Taesan-ah, can I come in?” and Sungho wants to laugh at the way that Jaehyun asks for permission to enter his own room.
“Yeah,” and just the sound of Taesan’s voice after this long is enough make Sungho nervous.
Jaehyun pushes open the door just enough to poke his head in, “Hey,” he shuffles in and looks back in Sungho’s direction to gesture for him to come in as well.
Taesan’s laying on Jaehyun’s bed, the setup feeling all too familiar, with wide eyes like he’s seen a ghost.
“I’m just gonna let you guys, uh. Yeah.” Jaehyun prattles, scrambling to get out and shut the door behind him.
The silence in the room is deafening, and the air is heavy and Sungho kind of just wants to turn on his heels and run back home and be miserable like before, and Taesan looks like he’s thinking a similar thing.
“Um. I’m here to bring you home,”
“Yeah, I figured,”
The attitude’s not necessary, really, but then again, what else is there to say to that. This whole thing is so painfully awkward and Sungho doesn’t know what the right thing to do is so he just stands there and hopes that maybe Taesan knows.
It’s silent for a few more seconds before Taesan sits up and says, “I’ll pack my stuff,”
Sungho sits in the corner on Jaehyun’s desk chair picking at his nails and messing with the things in Jaehyun’s desk. Lots of knick knacks, pictures of their friends, a lot of pictures of Riwoo, and some of his family as well.
He watches Taesan as he slowly moves around the room, shoving clothes and other things he brought along into a bag, the same one he used last time, Sungho notices, and Taesan occasionally eyes him like he might’ve disappeared while he wasn’t looking.
After they give their thanks to Jaehyun and Riwoo, they leave. Sungho lends Taesan his coat because yet again Taesan is trying to walk around outside in the cold without any source of warmth and Sungho almost can’t believe how reckless he is. Almost.
“Let’s sit on the couch, c’mon,”
Sungho’s not too worried about Taesan trying to get away from him because he’s fairly certain that he wants them to talk too but Sungho’s really tired of beating around the bush.
They didn’t speak on the walk back. It was silent, more awkward than in Jaehyun’s room, more awkward than the morning after that night, and on a whole new level than their first quarrel.
So, by the time they got home, Sungho’s itching to break the ice.
“I can’t believe Jaehyun let you take over his room like that,”
Taesan shrugs his shoulders, “All it took was for me to kick him off of the bed a couple times. He gave it up pretty easily.”
“He’s too nice for his own good.” Sungho sighs, “How long were you planning on staying there?”
“…Dunno,”
“Until I showed up?”
“I guess so.”
“Didn’t wanna see me that bad, huh?”
Taesan sighs and looks around the room like the answer’s on the wall. “Look, if you're trying to ask me what we are, or something, I don't know either. I was wasted, you were drunk too, stuff happens, and I'm sorry if I messed things up. Can’t we leave it at that?”
Sungho can’t catch himself before he lets out a loud scoff, because Taesan has to be playing dumb. He’s not stupid, and he knows Sungho’s no idiot either.
“That’s not what this is about, Taesan.” Sungho corrects, “Maybe it was two weeks ago. Maybe it was about our relationship, what you said to me, what you showed to me. But it’s not just about that anymore.” Sungho can feel his temperature rising, his overwhelming feelings clouding his vision around the edges. He can barely even see the face in front of him. “It’s about the avoidance. Shutting me down and running away. So much so that you’re affecting other people’s lives, people who aren’t even involved.”
Taesan’s quiet now, only mustering a small “sorry”, staring somewhere past Sungho’s eyes, face vacant and fingers interlaced.
“Yeah, I had questions about our relationship, but more than anything I was worried about you.”
“I’m sorry,”
“I want you to be able to trust me. I want you to tell me when you’re struggling. I thought we agreeing on that.” Sungho grits out. He can see Taesan practically trembling in front of him, and he can’t get used to it no matter how much he sees it.
“Why do you only talk to me when I back you into a corner like this?”
Taesan’s eyes are glassy when they meet his, threatening to overflow with tears. A sight Sungho’s rarely seen in the months he’s known him. He’s chewing his lip and furrowing his brow as if trying to fight them to stay in, and Sungho wants to reach out and hold him, tell him that it’s okay and that he’s not mad but they’re in this mess because Sungho always reaches out first.
“I… I don’t know,” Taesan replies, voice quivering. “Why do I do any of the things I do? Nothing about me makes sense,”
Taesan’s voice is barely above a whisper. It’s throaty and hoarse like it hurts to talk and his eyes are fixed downcast. “You’ve seen it hyung. You know me. How much I have to fight myself to do the simplest things. How it affects the way I am with other people. How I never let myself get what I want,” He brings a hand to his face and rubs at his eyes, trying to catch the tears as they spill. “and how I'll always be alone.”
Sungho rises out of his seat to scoot closer, and cups his face, lifting it to wipe the tears properly.
“Taesan, you’re never going to be alone as long as you have me,” He soothes, “but you have to let me help you. I can’t be here for you if you keep running away from me.”
“I know, I know that.” Taesan sniffles, “I’m just… I’m too much. I don’t wanna scare you away. After that night, I woke up and you were gone, and I just knew I probably freaked you out.”
The way he’s crumbling apart in front of Sungho’s eyes breaks his heart, but at the same time he feels like this needed to happen. Sungho holds Taesan’s face in his hand, and intertwines their fingers with his other.
“If you think a few scars are gonna scare me away you’ve severely miscalculated how important you are to me, Taesan-ah.”
He can see Taesan try to fight off a smile and is utterly endeared, more than he thought was physically possible, but Taesan knows how to surprise him. He stares at Sungho like he’s done fighting back, like he’s finally ready to let Sungho win this game of push and pull.
“How important am I, hyung?” Taesan asks, a slight teasing lilt to his voice, and Sungho’s just happy to see him act like his usual self.
“I mean, is that really something I can measure?”
Taesan reaches for the hand that’s on his face and places his own over it, face suddenly serious, “Would you bleed for me, if I asked?”
Sungho doesn’t even know what kind of face he makes, but it must’ve been funny because Taesan bursts into laughter, leaning forward into Sungho’s chest, “Oh man! Your face, hyung!” He chokes out between giggles, “I’m just messing with you, hehe,”
Sungho rolls his eyes, playfully shoving Taesan out of his space but can’t help the grin creeping onto his lips. “You’re lucky I like you so much. You’re annoying.”
Taesan smiles his usual, crooked smile, and leans in, just a couple inches from Sungho’s face, “As long as you like me.”
The first time Taesan says I love you, he doesn’t actually say it.
Taesan feels warm for multiple reasons. He and Sungho are laying in the older’s bed, limbs overlapping and cuddled up watching a movie on Sungho’s laptop. Yeah, he could say he’s physically warm from Sungho’s arm slung around him, hand playing with messy strands of hair. Or his torso that Taesan’s practically laid on top of. But anyone that’s ever met Sungho knows that his presence is enough to warm someone from the inside out. Taesan’s heart beats in the comfort of the man next to him, and his blood flows spreading the warmth from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The warmth could also be attributed to the pleasant buzz from their homemade vodka lemonade concoctions that they’ve been sipping on (since it's a Friday night and neither of them have anything to do tomorrow so why not), but Sungho makes Taesan feel more than any depressant or stimulant ever could so it’s probably insignificant.
He doesn’t even really know what this movie’s about because Sungho picked it since Taesan doesn’t really love movies like that, and he’s been kinda preoccupied the whole time. It’s really hard to focus, or even care about anything that’s not Sungho because Taesan’s kind of obsessed with him and being with him makes him the happiest he’s ever felt so the movie is a bit lost on him right now.
Taesan turns his head so his face is in the crook of Sungho’s neck, and lightly blows into the skin.
“Yah,” Sungho scolds, barely above a whisper, and Taesan just giggles.
“Are you bored?”
“A little,”
Sungho sits up a bit so he can look down at Taesan, “Do you wanna do something else?”
“If it’s okay with you,” Taesan mumbles, because as much as he likes getting what he wants Sungho’s opinion is important too.
Sungho smiles, “Yeah, that’s okay.” he says, petting Taesan’s head and closing his laptop.
Taesan lays on his side, and props himself up on his elbow so he’s able to see Sungho’s face, looking fond as ever. He’s so pretty that Taesan can’t understand how he’s even real, let alone how he got lucky enough to have the eyes of such a beautiful boy look at him like Taesan holds his heart in his palm. It’s easy to get stuck admiring every one of his features, a game Taesan’s been playing for such a long time that he could probably sculpt them out of clay from memory (not that it’d compare to the real thing). Obsessed isn’t nearly strong enough, Taesan thinks. Captivated, enthralled, infatuated, enchanted, none of it does justice to how he feels about Sungho.
“Well?” Sungho says sweetly and Taesan figures he’s been staring for too long.
“Hi. I like you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sungho grins, tucking some hair behind Taesan’s ear, “Are you gonna kiss me or just stare?”
Taesan can feel the goofy grin that creeps onto his face as he leans down. He’s kissed Sungho before. A lot of times, at this point, but repetition doesn’t make Taesan feel any less feverish when Sungho kisses him back with the same hunger. Taesan swings his leg over to straddle Sungho’s lap for a better angle and Sungho pulls him impossibly closer. Taesan feels a squeeze on his ass and gasps into Sungho’s mouth, who smiles and licks into Taesan’s own.
Taesan runs his hands under Sungho’s shirt to feel up his firm abs and revels in the way he groans under his touch. He drags his hands all the way up to Sungho’s chest, riding the shirt up and tugging on it. “Off,” Taesan breathes against the other’s lips, sounding more pathetic than he’d meant to. He feels Sungho smile against his mouth as he pushes himself up, briefly recapturing Taesan’s lips before pulling his shirt over his head.
He pulls Taesan back into another kiss, deep and tender and dizzying and just the way Taesan wants it, digging his fingers into his hips like they’re a lifeline. He’s melting, falling apart in Sungho’s hands, and there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. His heart is full of love and each kiss overflows and overflows into his lungs and stomach and intestines until it’s all he’s made of. Taesan digs his fingers into Sungho’s long hair, and kisses his lips and hopes and hopes and hopes that he understands.
“Arms up,” Sungho pants out between kisses, and Taesan obeys without a second thought, raising his arms over his head. Sungho lifts his shirt up from the head and pulls it off and takes in his form. Taesan’s not shy around Sungho, not even with the way his eyes shamelessly rake across his skin and drink up every inch of it. It makes him feel attractive and wanted and loved and any of Sungho’s attention is enough to make heat pool in his stomach.
Sungho kisses him again, and starts to trail open-mouthed kisses up his jaw and down his neck, across his shoulder and lifts up his left arm. He knows Taesan loves this, the way he licks and kisses the scars on his arms, dragging his tongue along the jagged, raised lines and kissing them with wet lips. Taesan loves the sensation of it, and he gets butterflies in his stomach at the sight of Sungho soothing, worshipping the healed lacerations (and he’s got a feeling Sungho’s got a thing for it too). He makes his way to Taesan’s forearm, lifting his eyes to gaze up at Taesan as he tongues at the skin, cheeks red, pupils wide, and eyes glassy and it goes straight to Taesan’s dick. He can’t help the way he grinds down into Sungho’s lap, affection overflowing so much that he’s losing composure.
“Ah, hyung, you’re so—” Taesan can feel his face flushing, he feels words on his tongue that he doesn’t know how to say.
“Sungho hyung, I… can I tell you something weird,”
He hears Sungho groan some vague affirmation under him, and takes it as a yes.
“If you ever asked, or ever needed it… for whatever reason it would be… I’d let you eat me, bones and all, Sungho hyung,”
Sungho doesn’t flinch, doesn’t miss a beat, maybe because Taesan’s got a knack for saying strange things, but he just huffs out a laugh.
“I love you too, Taesan-ah”