HIRAETH TAEJOON。

-8-

Taehyung was sitting on the lounge room floor, with a pair of scissors and his new clothes.

"Taehyung."

He looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Those weren't cheap."

"Okay?"

"Please stop cutting your clothes up."

He put the scissors down on the coffee table, and folded up his clothes.

"Okay, hyung."

We sort of... freeze, for a moment. Me, standing over Taehyung. Him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring up at me.

"I'm going out later, to find job offers. Do you want to come with me?"

Tae slowly nodded, still holding my gaze.

I blinked.

Then he started to laugh.

And I smiled, realising I had just lost a staring contest.

Then my phone rang.

My phone never rings.

I walked out of the room, accepting the call from this unknown number.

"Hello? Kim Namjoon speaking."

I hear breathing on the other end. Hitched, but slow.

"Do you know a Kim Taehyung?"