Dancing with Your Ghost [on hold]

t h i r t y - t h r e e

Yeah, we were invincible
That's what they said
So indivisible
Wherever we went
...
You were my Hindenburg lover, we were flying away
Then we took a wrong turn and it was all up in flames
And now I'm staring at the wreckage tryin' to make it okay

Hindenburg Lover
- Anson Seabra

»»————-　➴　————-««

Reminiscing was Jeongguk's best friend and worst enemy. It gave him brittle hope, the kind that dissolves between his fingers and draws him towards photography.

It was January when Jeongguk first moved into his new apartment, journeying down the hallway in a hazy cloud and collecting dust on the pad of his fingers. He made it his own, scavenging for second-hand furniture and bringing home tiny cactus pots from the market.

It was a time when Jeongguk chased after solitude, so caught up in this idea that all he needed was himself, that independence was the key to his current sorrows. But as days became repetitive and silence took over his living space, he developed a habit of humming tunes. Because the truth was—

He was so fucking lonely.

He had someone who made every day mean something. A piece of the sun, practically. Now his room was vacant.

Jeongguk couldn't recall how many nights he lay on the floor of that empty bedroom, reciting speeches and pondering over whether or not he should call him.

Hey, I miss you.

Hey, I left you the bigger room in case you come back.

Hey, I hope your mom's new job is going smoothly. And that your new home is treating you well. And that you know I didn't mean the things I said when we fought.

Hey, my parents keep asking about you. What do I tell them? You know they love you.

Hey, do you still love me?

But gradually as the months dragged on, his motivation diminished. He still sent him mental notes but concluded that it was best not to make a sound.

Hey, I know you're allergic but it shouldn't matter since you're not here anyway. I adopted a cat. Well, I actually found it in a building, right outside the elevator from the dance studio my photography class was working with. No one claimed him, so we went to the vet, and then I took Socks home. Yes, I named it Socks. It was the first thing I saw when I scanned my room for a name.

Socks made Jeongguk significantly less lonely. And the cat may not have the ability to talk, but Jeongguk liked to think that it listened to his rants without judgment, that Socks enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed its.

So eighteen-year-old Jeongguk started to get his life together, finally mustering up the courage and acceptance to change what was supposed to be Hoseok's room into his studio. Signed up for every photography class he could find and found a decent-pay job as a bartender.

So here he was, serving drinks in an apron that was a little too loose around the waist, under the hazy noise of glass clinking and animated chatter.

Why did he call? he kept wondering, Why now? His hands tightened around the shaker. What if it's an emergency? I've waited so long for this, so why am I so hesitant?

"Jeongguk!"

Yoongi was clothed in a denim jacket patched with ironed-on stickers ranging from the peace sign to THICK THIGHS MAKE MY DICK RISE. Jeongguk remained unfazed.