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"You let me know love is not the answer, not the answer, not the answer. I love to do drugs, so mind my manners. I get high when you don't decide to answer. Phone home, I need to phone home. I'm throwing rocks at your window, I need to go home. I don't wanna leave, I just wanna be with you. You, you, you."
≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺
THE dark skylight of the large city of Seoul flew past, its colorful lights brightening up its surroundings by miles and livening up the lonely road the red car was traveling on.
Taeyong rested his head on the window, nibbling on his bottom lip and disregarding the stiff, uncomfortable mood that was set in the small space. Kun was driving him home after picking him up from a drug house and reprimanding the older. The Chinese may be a few months younger, but he was certainly a lot more wise. And when Taeyong said he was at 'so and sos house' he immediately knew that wasn't where the Korean intended to find himself and came to pick him up without any trouble.
Kun was one of his only friends that was an actual friend, but unfortunately, after he stopped drinking he became more of a babysitter. Taeyong knew he didn't want to be, and he told the other many times that he didn't have to force himself to do the things he did, but Kun felt the obligation to do so because the 'what ifs' were all too real. And he didn't want to be guilty or feel regret for not helping someone that he labeled as his friend.
So here they were.
Taeyong sighed, the reflection of the city moving inside his iris, it's blinding lights filling up his dark eyes. He watched as cars zoomed past, as dark figures walked on the busy sidewalks, and as the loud, bustling metro waited for pedestrians to board.
This is what Seoul was—a city fertile of lost dreams. It was such a fulfilling place. The lights bathed Taeyong in its warmth and the chattering and lively noises that surrounded him made him feel as if he'd never need someone to talk to again. There were so many opportunities, so many things to see, and so many unique individuals to learn about.
He wondered what manifested in his mind to where he thought of Seoul of something else; a hideaway, an escape, and a distraction. It never felt the way it probably should, because he was too fucked up in the head to begin with to even let it and see the place through a lens full of anything but blurred highs and pessimism.
"You really need to stop this life, Taeyong."
The boy lifted his head off of the glass, his eyes shifting from the river to the one in the driver's seat. He rested his temple on his fist, his other hand playing with a loose string on his long sleeved shirt. Kun kept his eyes on the road despite the latter coldly staring at his profile.
The boy sighed deeply, pausing before stating uncomfortably, "You know what, I know. But I'm... I'm too scared what life would be like without all of this."
Kun took a quick glance at the beautiful one next to him, his features growing dismal. "That's surprising. I'd think you'd be scared to be the way you are, because you lose control. What are you scared of?"
Taeyong shifted awkwardly in his seat and shyly looked back out the window, his expression hidden by the strands of his pink hair. He didn't say anything, the silence dragging on so long that Kun didn't expect an answer until the boy spoke lowly,
"I'm scared of myself."
Kun tensed a bit, but he nodded as if he understood. Taeyong knew he couldn't. He didn't think anyone could. He swiftly regretted telling the Chinese that and stayed silent for the rest of the ride, fiddling with that dumb string and feeling even more alone.
-
10 notifications!
Taeyong quietly groaned, dragging his hands through his hair as his strained eyes stared at the screen of his phone. He must've got three hours of sleep last night and his phone's ringtone going off probably shook him awake. The boy's irises lulled to the back of his head, sinking back down into his bed as he hesitantly clicked on the notifications. He wished everyone would just leave him by himself. The boy didn't feel like talking or texting anyone right now.
7 missed calls from unknown.
Immediately blocked.
2 text messages from Ten.
hey u want to hangout 2night
I want u to try something and miss u ;)
Taeyong knew that was bullshit. Ten was attracted to him and all they'd be doing was drugs and meaningless sex. He deleted those messages and moved on, his thumb stopping on the last notification.
1 text message from unknown.
hi, this is Jaehyun :>
The pink haired's eyebrows lightly furrowed, but an amused smile masked his lips. He opened up the message and answered back almost immediately. He didn't think he'd ever reach out, and especially with a weird but somehow cute textmoji like that.
9:01 AM
hey jaehyun
9:03 AM
you answered ??
9:04 AM
you didn't think I would?
9:04 AM
no... not really
but anyway how are you :3
9:04 AM
I'm okay right now, you?
9:06 AM
I'm goood
I was thinking about that offer you gave me
yk, like the one where you said you'd be there
if I needed anything...
9:07 AM
oh
What is it?
9:10 AM
Well I wanted to know if you would like to go to the arcade w/me
9:10 AM
the old one?
9:11 AM
Yeah
It's okay if you don't want to
I was just wondering since we used to go there all the time together
Taeyong bit his bottom lip, nerves flaring up inside his veins. He didn't know how he felt about Jaehyun and whether or not he should hangout with him, but his impulse and gut feeling told him to.
The idea was a bit intimidating, however. A little voice in the back of his head told him he'd embarrass himself in front of the taller or that he'd make it uncomfortable for him. Taeyong didn't want it to be a miserable experience. What he did want was to put at least one good impression on Jaehyun, not the one he saw at the lodge. It seemed almost impossible for them to have a good time in his mind.
He pondered for awhile, his insecurities beginning to get the best of him.
9:20 AM
are you sure you want to go with me?
9:22 AM
I know I'm not the best to be around...
Taeyong waited in anticipation for Jaehyun to answer, expecting him to change his mind or tell him that he doesn't care if he were to go anymore. He decided to get out of bed and start the day to distract him, no matter how much he didn't want to.
9:30 AM
Of course I want to go w/you
Or else I wouldn't be asking
9:32 AM
I really do want to hangout with you taeyong
You don't have to act any particular way around me
I just miss you
11:12 AM
okay. you convinced me
11:13 AM
omg
xc
11:15 AM
I'm happy lol
Taeyong brushed a wisp of hair out of his face once the outside wind caught up to him, his black boots walking along a certain long sidewalk he'd traveled many times before. His dark brown eyes ran across at all the old shops and thrift stores that aligned along the street in brick or cemented buildings, noticing that some went out of business.
That was one of the few differences from the past—Taeyong felt like he was back to being a sophomore in high school, idly strolling across the road as the cold wind wrapped at his hair and hit his cheeks. He remembered it very distinctly, because like clockwork, he'd skip last period and walk for hours along this same path, not wishing to sit inside a tedious hot classroom or go back home to his mother that would yell and his father who was never there.
Back then after a couple hours the police officers would come to find him and bring him back to his family. At first they didn't like Taeyong because of his way of rebelling, but after a few visits underneath the bridge downtown they grew to like the kid. He was just a teenager that was emotionally pressured and wrecked by his conservative parents.
So by the third 'search', they didn't even bother putting handcuffs on his wrists and occasionally took him out to get icecream before dropping him off with an assured, "see you tomorrow, kiddo".
There was a young officer named Taemin that Taeyong became particularly fond of; he always carried an understanding aura about him and never treated the boy roughly. Taeyong felt comfortable with the older and sometimes looked forward to their conversations. He talked to Taemin like he might've chattered to his parents after school, blurting out whatever happened that day and how 'annoying' Ms. Jun was in third period, or what assignments he was having anxiety about, or how he escaped Geometry class yet again.
Their banters were usually fairly entertaining, considering Taemin seemed to have a similar childhood and a carefree and humorous attitude about things that weren't serious. He understood Taeyong, and the boy cherished that so much.
After what was a day of hell, Taeyong was escorted into a police car—and that's the only thing he looked forward to. Taemin had a way of making him feel a lot better and most importantly, giving the younger a person to rant about anything and everything.
But then a day had come where Taemin didn't get a phone call to come fetch the student and bring him back to where he belonged.
Suddenly there'd never be another day of trudging around town, laughing with Taemin, and then being dropped off with the same guaranteed, "see you tomorrow" and sad smile.
There was no tomorrow, next week, or even next year. There was no nothing, and Taeyong vanished. It was all ripped apart at once, like a bandaid that had been stuck on someone's skin for far too long.
This road brought back so many memories, and Taeyong wasn't keen on thinking too much about them because they made him nostalgically sad. It about made him regret, because he lost so, so much once he left.
He sighed and stuffed his hands into his black leather jacket, kicking the rock that made its way under his shoe onto the street. The spring breeze kissed his skin and the soft sounds of the wind danced in his ears.
It was peaceful, but his heart hurt.
And that made the vacancy of noise and chaos feel a lot more empty.
"Taeyong!"
A familiar voice rang into the air, albeit deeper and more mature. The pink haired turned around and caught Jaehyun's honey brown eyes, bright flashing lights reflecting off his porcelain skin in hues of purple, blue, and green.
Jaehyun was wearing a white hoodie along with jeans that were light wash, as well as white low top sneakers to go along with the outfit. It made Taeyong feel a little bit overdressed in his leather jacket, tight black skinny jeans, designer top and boots—and not to mention, his pastel pink hair—but he and Jaehyun's fashion sense had always been drastically different.
Jaehyun's appearance was another wisp of nostalgia for the latter and it smacked him at full force. He really looked just like he did back in high school. It made the pink haired slightly insecure, because he felt like he was the only one who'd changed, and now he felt sorta out of place at their hangout spot they'd go to every weekend in the past for hours on end.
He didn't feel like this at the party, but now that he was placed in this setting—this arcade that had people laughing, smelled of freshly popped popcorn, crazy carpet patterns, headache inducing lights, and action game noises—everything came back to him.
He was a completely different person that was lodged in little Lee Taeyong's spot.
Taeyong squinted his eyes shut and tightened his fists, Jaehyun's words brightening inside his brain. "You don't have to act any particular way around me. I just miss you." He released the breath that he held in his lungs, a meek smile dancing on his pink lips as he made his way to his old friend.
He ignored the goggling of others and swerved in between groups of teenagers and young adults, his black boots halting just a foot away from Jung Jaehyun.
"Hey, you," Taeyong chimed, and he could almost laugh again at the starstruck on the taller's face. The pink haired poked him in the chest, Jaehyun's expression softening at the action. "What's the matter?" the shorter asked with a tilt to his head.
Jaehyun grinned shyly, running a hand through his chestnut hair. "I'm shocked that you showed up," he uttered out honestly, and the latter's eyes fell at that.
The shorter crossed his arms, eying him conspicuously. "You thought that I would stand up my 'best late night nuisance'?" he quoted playfully, Jaehyun's cheeks layering in a fine shade of red as waves of their childhood splashed back into their memories.
Taeyong used to have a window that didn't close all the way. It was jammed and let the little bit of nature into his bedroom, like nasty bugs and spiders that decided, 'hey, his windowsill and warm room would be a great place to set camp!' He always likes bugs, so whatever. But there was another bother that would also make accommodations there as well, and that happened to be Jaehyun.
Jaehyun's voice.
The introverted, moody teenager named Taeyong wanted to throw his sister's softball at the boy's dimpled face once he realized his window was approximately three feet across from his. Night after night, where Jaehyun seemingly doesn't sleep and much rather annoy Taeyong with his singing and 'did I ever tell you(s)', the shorter came to the absolutely horrible, world-ending realization that he was stuck with him.
Stuck with Jung Jaehyun, who apparently had a taste in old love songs and had a habit of leaving his curtains open, giving poor little Taeyong an unnecessary detailed description of what he talked to himself about in the mirror after a shower (while still in his towel). Taeyong wouldn't let him get farther than that however, like hell if he was going to be forced to watch the boy get dressed without hiding his head under his covers.
And they talked. At first, Taeyong wasn't having any of it. Now to think of it, he was probably quite mean. But after a few sleepless nights and Jaehyun's never ending rambling, he decided that maybe the two weren't so different, and much to past Taeyong's demise, they made it routine to stay up late at night and speak about whatever words came to them.
That's really how their friendship blossomed, although they never spoke much during school hours. Everything was set and put in a place for later, like 'ah, I have to tell about Jaehyun that tonight. He'd find it so funny'.
They were close, and in such a weird, but fateful type of way.
Jaehyun laughed a little, shaking his head. "No, of course not," he answered back confidently, tense form easing up. His feet made their way towards the ticket booth with Taeyong naturally following in tow. "But I just thought you'd be embarrassed by how many more tickets I'm going to win," he spoke slyly, flickering his gaze back to the boy.
Taeyong raised his eyebrows, trying to suppress the beam that might've appeared on his face. "Oh. So this is a competition?"
Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders. "Not really, considering somehow I'd always be the one buying you something from the prize corner," he added, handing the man behind the counter money.
Taeyong brushed the jab off, a 'pfft' releasing from his lips. "Don't get too cocky. That was the past, player."
The taller handed him over a pouch of tokens. "We'll see about that," he teased with a wink and Taeyong nudged him with his elbow for that. They started their way towards the video games first. The pair used to begin with that section, because it was the most fun and then knocked down the rest afterwards. "How've you been?" Jaehyun questioned, lightening up his tone.
Taeyong tightly pressed his lips together, a stark heaviness placing itself on his shoulders. He ignored it and instead went to insert his coin into the machine, the left screen lighting up with 'player one'. "I've been good," he lied causally, dark orbs focused on the screen. "You?"
Jaehyun joined him in the racing game, grabbing the steering wheel out of the slot on his side. "I'm alright," he said, noticing the stiffness of the air. "—now that I'm going to totally wreck you in this game," he continued smoothly, laughing when Taeyong glared at him, the screen reflecting in his iridescent eyes.
"Sure."
"HA! Get wrecked! Big talk and no game, huh?"
Taeyong was clearly ecstatic that he won a very close match of racing with Jaehyun, catching a few other's attention by his loud, boisterous voice. The brown haired sulked, but he wasn't much of a sore player—it just lit his fire. "It was one game," he mentioned.
"You're just mad that you got wrecked, not me," Taeyong smirked, "Karma, bitch. Get 'WASTED'."
Jaehyun rolled his eyes, but his pout returned to a smile when Taeyong quickly grabbed his hand and dragged him to the next game, enthusiastic by his win and not wanting to wait. "How about we play basketball?" the brown haired suggested.
"You think I'm going to give you the heads up after winning? Nah," Taeyong stated, attitude suddenly engrossing him. He searched around the endless lines of games surrounding them until he rushed towards a Call of Duty type one, plopping into the black chair before Jaehyun could even protest.
Taeyong turned around after grabbing one of the plastic guns, piping with a cocky grin, "Well, what are you waiting for? Too intimidated?"
Jaehyun snorted, slipping beside Taeyong in the seat beside him. "You wish."
Taeyong sank into the chair, eyes adamantly staring at the screen before Jaehyun's stupid character almost immediately sneaked up and shot him in the back, coating his monitor in red. He saw the boy grin out of the corner of his eye. "No screen sniping," he sang accusingly.
"I'm not, you're just bad."
Taeyong's grip tightened on the gun once he respawned and he didn't stay in the same spot as he did last time, opting to hide behind one of the barrels. He peeked out from the corner and held his breath once seeing Jaehyun's person aimlessly run around on the deck before he jumped out and started shooting him like crazy.
"Got you," Taeyong peered over at the boy, who playfully rolled his eyes.
Jaehyun pursed his lips, revealing his dimples as he said, "Not this time."
And he was right, because after a few long minutes, he shot the boy from the other side of the ship and left the pink haired disheartened. "How'd you do that? You were so far away!" Taeyong asked suspiciously, a small frown drawn on his face.
The latter explained, "You were standing in clear sight." Taeyong wrinkled his nose before leaving the game, wasting no time pondering which game to choose next.
The next few games sorta went like this—Taeyong would think he's getting ahead, but Jaehyun managed to swipe the win right at the last minute. It was full of bickering and lighthearted competition, but was entertaining anyhow. They eventually got to the sports section, b-lining it to the basketball hoops.
It was no surprise that Jaehyun got the most hoops, so easily that Taeyong wanted to take one of the balls and hit him upside the head with it. He knew he was bad, but he didn't know he was that bad.
Jaehyun put an arm around Taeyong's small shoulders, chirping, "Don't feel too horrible. I played all throughout high school." Taeyong pushed him off and crossed his arms to his chest as he stared up at the taller, a mix of anger and admiration battling inside his mind.
He couldn't hold the stare for too long though and blushed as he gazed back around the arcade. His line of vision landed on the DDR machine. Taeyong's confident demeanor made a strong return as he flickered his gaze back to Jaehyun.
"Okay, then let's play to my strengths. Beat me in a game of DDR and I'll let you choose the rest of the games," he challenged, a cunning glimmer in his iris.
Jaehyun smirked, reaching out his hand for Taeyong to shake. "Sounds like a deal."
Taeyong ignored the gesture and laughed mischievously as he bolted to the game, Jaehyun rolling his eyes and jogging to keep up with the childish boy. Taeyong stayed standing on the sidelines, Jaehyun stopping beside him as they waited for another to finish up on the machine. Once they did, and they were lucky enough that there wasn't much of a line, Taeyong turned to Jaehyun and said, "Loser's first."
"Nice one," Jaehyun shot back sarcastically, walking to the machine and putting his token in before adjusting himself between the four arrows.
The music started up instantly, and the first part was quite easy, Jaehyun not missing a beat. But the pace got faster and faster, and the music became more intense; Taeyong was too engrossed in watching Jaehyun play rather than his gradually decreasing bar. This particular game wasn't the taller's forte, because he easily became flustered and didn't really have a natural flow without practice. Taeyong didn't mind, because it gave him an excuse to admire the boy without 'screen sniping', and on the other hand, put him in the ground.
The boy swiftly got demonetized and now it was Taeyong's turn. For some reason he felt hot with Jaehyun watching him, but he decided that now was not the time to get all embarrassed, because hell if Jaehyun was going to win again. Especially at DDR.
Like always, the first few minutes of the game weren't all that hard or impressive. Once it got more difficult, Taeyong didn't look fazed what-so-ever and continued with his reflexive, seamless steps, eyes glued to the screen.
It was admirable, really, and despite Jaehyun being scarred for having to wait hours in the mall with him when they were younger because of this stupid game, he was consistently left with his mouth hung open every single time. Taeyong's feet never missed a single note, and Jaehyun couldn't imagine that talent not being in the pink haired's DNA, because how could an average person like him ever learn how to do that?
The smaller went for so long that Jaehyun was actually relieved when he got off, Taeyong looking happy with himself as he skipped his way to Jaehyun's side. "You knew you were going to win," he mused, the tips of his ears pink once Taeyong linked arms with him, a smile dancing on his lips.
He blinked up at the brown haired, saying, "Duh. I had to beat you at something. I did it for you too, because I know for a fact that you don't wanna listen to be complain the rest of the night," Taeyong quipped, guiding Jaehyun over to the claw machine. He handed him a dollar bill, not even meeting his gaze but instead intently staring at the hammerhead plushie in the middle of the pile.
Taeyong looked back up at him, pointing to the shark. "Get me that plushie, and I pinky promise that you can plan the rest of the night." He offered his small pinky, a dimpled smile arising on Jaehyun's face as he linked his own with the smaller's.
"Got it."
Jaehyun would be lying to you if he said he wasn't the least bit nervous. It wasn't like the offer was extremely enticing—he didn't really mind Taeyong taking his hand and dragging him around the arcade—it was the disappointment that might freeze over Tae's face if he failed when all he wanted to do was make him happy.
He tried to block out Taeyong's pupils consistently locked on his profile, putting the dollar into the machine. You got three chances to win, and that was it. It didn't help that the game was probably rigged as well. The odds were stacked against him.
Jaehyun bit on his lip and tightened his grip on the gear, eying exactly where the stuffed animal was. He moved the stick into that direction, making sure the claw was right above the shark before pressing the red button. He held his breath as he watched the claw go down and then grab it...
Then it released it again. Taeyong groaned in his ear. "You literally had it perfect," he mumbled, "stupid machine."
Jaehyun still had two chances, and he went back in. Once again, the claw was directly in line with the plushie. He pressed his lips tightly together as he pressed the button once again. It went down, dreadfully slow, then opened and grabbed the shark.
Excitement bubbled up in Jaehyun's chest as it moved to the slot, hoping that it didn't decide to be a bitch and drop the animal again.
It didn't. The hammerhead dropped right into the opening, and Taeyong's features instantly lightened up. Jaehyun handed the plushie to the boy, who was ecstatic enough to give the taller a short-lived hug, afterwards holding the stuffed animal cutely to his chest. "I knew you could do it," Taeyong beamed, having to resist the tempting urge to hug him again when his cheeks flushed.
Since they didn't have near enough tokens to get anything at the highly demanding ticket booth, they settled on getting something to eat at the food court instead. Taeyong didn't have a problem with it; his stomach had been growling since he got here.
He also noticed the faint drumming of a headache on the sides of his skull, but knew why that was there, and was determined he was not going to let it ruin his night—or show it, for that matter.
They sat down at one of the smaller tables nuzzled in the corner from the chaos of people waiting in line. Jaehyun asked what Taeyong wanted and told the boy to rest here while he ordered the food. Taeyong felt guilty, but was appreciative.
He lied his head on his shark, wrapping his arms around the stuffed animal and fluttering his eyelashes closed,wishing to alleviate the pulsing a bit before Jaehyun came back.
It worked for the time being, and the pink haired felt slightly more upbeat when the other returned with two slices of pepperoni pizza and soft drinks. They finally had room to talk—and did the both of them have a lot to say—they'd haven't seen each other for years, like there was just this black empty space in between sophomore year and where they were at now.
Jaehyun spoke about his job in business and how he was now the manager of a company; he said he was going to pay off his house by the end of this year, and Taeyong merely remembered the small home. It shocked him how much Jaehyun seemed to love it. Not because it was ugly, but so modest. Usually when you think of someone's dream home, you think of something extravagant, big, roomy, lush—but Jaehyun was more than happy to stay in his little space until he had enough funds to maybe find something larger.
It was nice to hear how Jaehyun has been doing since Taeyong's been gone, but he wasn't too sure the boy would feel the same about his circumstances.
Taeyong quietly informed that he currently didn't have a job, but had an abundant of life savings in his personal bank account from his wealthy parents. It was honestly embarrassing how well he was off, and by not even working to get there, when Jaehyun tried his best his whole life to live comfortably. The taller didn't judge him, but listened to whatever he had to say.
The shorter could tell Jaehyun was trying not to ask any personal questions, so they mostly stayed on the topic of lighthearted discussions and sometimes their childhood together.
Not once did Jaehyun mention anything about Taeyong getting drunk at the lodge or the obvious issues the boy was battling with. It made him feel content in Jaehyun's presence, not feeling pressured to add anything about what was really going on in his mind instead of surface stuff like occupation, housing, and the past.
The time flew by too quickly, both getting lost in each other's thoughts, that Taeyong was sorta sad when seeing the blackness outside starting to spread in the sky.
The pair were laughing, shoulders basically glued together as they walked out of the doors of the arcade, the moonlight dampening their skin in a soft coolness.
"So you're telling me—" Taeyong paused, trying to suppress the giggle from leaving his throat, "That you kept that stupid project we made in art class underneath your bed? Do you mind me asking why?"
Jaehyun smiled shyly as they began their tread down the street. "I uh, I don't know. Sentimental value, I guess," he explained, rather shamefully, and Taeyong was swift to make him feel better by ruffling his hair, fingers lingering on his shoulder for a bit.
He looked at the smaller who looked happier than ever skipping down the sidewalk with him. It made his heart clench and tighten, sending throbs of whatever that feverish, jittery feeling was throughout his body.
Jaehyun swallowed, adding to what he said. "Y'know, I didn't really have anything to remember you by. I couldn't just forget you entirely—" (or at all) "—so I kept it. It's kinda in rough shape now."
Taeyong bobbed his head, grinning at his feet. "I'd like to see it sometime. For 'sentimental value'," he told him softly, his own chest beginning to ache. He didn't want their time to end.
"Hey, can we sit down? My feet are beginning to hurt in these dumb boots," Taeyong made up an excuse and Jaehyun bought into it, so they sat down on one of the benches outside a small icecream parlor that he remembered going to a few times with Taemin.
A warm and tranquil silence settled between them, oddly fulfilling and solacing. There was no rush to spark another conversation to keep the ball rolling or anything—no, it was comfortable. Taeyong batted his eyelashes slowly, feeling all fuzzy inside as he gazed at Jaehyun. His button nose, his almond brown eyes, his pouty lips: he looked healthy and... and happy. It was ethereal being in this spot with him. He genuinely, like genuinely, thought he'd never ever see him again.
"I missed you," Taeyong breathed out, catching Jaehyun's eyes that were previously on the moon. He smiled, so brightly, and the smaller didn't think he could cherish this moment any more than he already had. "I really did. I just wanted you to know that," Taeyong mumbled, growing flustered as he looked down to his boots.
Jaehyun's eyes shimmered, and the boy hesitantly reached his hand to intertwine their fingers together, the heat of his skin paired with the cool metal of the rings on his fingers alone sending Taeyong's heart into a spasm. "I missed you too, Taeyong. A lot more than you probably know," he whispered, his gentle grip tightening.
"May—may I ask you something?"
This inquiry shot Taeyong's head up. It made his insides feel all tender and his skin feel hot, all mushy and vulnerable like. He wasn't sure whether he despised it or if he should welcome the feelings. It was a strange mix between panic and being flattered: flattered that somebody actually cared enough to ask anything that had the prenotion of being important.
"Sure," he managed to squeeze out between all the conflicting emotions in his mind.
Jaehyun knitted his eyebrows together and it was clear he was also internally struggling with something, his expression troubled and glassy orbs stuck on the cracks beneath their feet. Taeyong gazed at him in concern, letting his soft fingertips play with the boy's ring.
If he was being true to himself, he would say that Jaehyun looked like he was going to cry. But he didn't want to admit it, because he didn't want to believe that he had an impact strong enough to irk that reaction in someone. He was supposed to be the shadow that nobody cared for, the one that got away with hardly anyone noticing.
"Why did you leave us?"
Jaehyun closed his eyes, merely regretting what he'd just questioned as if it were some untouchable subject and the words 'leave' or 'why' were forbidden from leaving someone's mouth. Suddenly the pink haired's small hand felt clammy, and that certainly didn't make the taller feel any better. There was no accusations, no bad intentions, he just wanted to know why.
There wasn't an answer, and unlike before, a stiffness lodged itself between them with only their hands managing to grasp onto each other. Taeyong harshly bit his lip, barely able to hold himself together. It was so dumb. Like really, so so stupid, he didn't know why he felt so much. So stunned by such a reasonable question, and so utterly drained despite not answering.
Taeyong stayed silent for a long time, but at this moment he didn't have a styrofoam cup of alcohol to distract him. It pained him not being able to muffle away any hint of negative turmoil or ounce of anxiety.
"I uh," he stumbled on his words, not quite knowing what to say. "I didn't think I b-belonged. I didn't fit in. Nobody... nobody cared about me. All of my friends seemed to have no problem letting me go once I had enough of trying. I went silent. My grades started dropping and everyday at my house was a living hell as long as my parents were there. They were so disappointed in me." Taeyong drew in a shaky breath of air, not very keen on elaborating anymore than that.
Jaehyun nodded slowly, another quiet enveloping the two.
He then rephrased the inquiry, voice just a little shaky,
"Why did you leave me?"
Taeyong's gaze flickered to the boy's eyes. He was staring at him with this steady, heavy look despite his orbs making it seem like his whole demeanor was preciously fragile. Jaehyun looked dreadfully jaded and lost, desperately hoping for an answer, and it was like a knife stabbed right into Taeyong's chest parallel to where his heart was located.
Now he was really at a loss for words. Taeyong let go of Jaehyun's warm hand, placing it in his lap as his bangs hung over his eyes. "I thought I was a burden to everybody," he spoke lowly after a beat, "I didn't think I mattered much to you."
He kept his head held down. He never talked about this before, but here he was, nearly spilling all of his suffering to a boy. How ridiculous and pathetic could he possibly be?
Taeyong didn't want to, but he flickered his gaze back up. Jaehyun stared at him, his eyelids heavy and features delicately soft just like they'd always been. Taeyong kept his guard up and held his bubbling, overwhelming feelings tight to his heart; they were not worth putting on show.
"You mattered a lot to me, Taeyong," Jaehyun uttered. "Do you know how much it hurt to sit at my window and expect to see you in your bedroom across from me at night, but no one was there for weeks on end? I waited everyday for you to come back home, and you never did. You never came.
"I regretted not opening up to you as much as I should have. When months started to fly by, I came to the realization that you were gone. I thought about you every singe day, just to come to the conclusion that you weren't ever coming back. I wanted to see you so badly and it felt like it would never happen. I felt like I lost you. It was the worst thing I've ever experienced in my life, because—"
Taeyong waited for the chestnut haired boy to continue his sentence, clinging onto the last few words of what he said like his life depended on it. Jaehyun's gentle eyes fell from his face, and now he was the one to hang his head.
"—because I think I'm in love with you."
Taeyong's heart thumped against his ribcage, nearly every bit of oxygen escaping from his lungs. His eyes swarmed with tears and he shook his head, entire body trembling as he stood up with wobbly knees and a weight of a thousand pounds on his back. Jaehyun stood up as well, humiliated facade morphing into one of immense worry.
The pink haired continued to shake his head, wet, salty tears trailing from his glistening corneas. "No," he mewled out. "No—you can't be in love with me."
Jaehyun stood there limply, heart aching and mind scattered in the passing wind. "I love you, Taeyong," he repeated abjectly, like a kicked puppy as his words shook.
Taeyong wiped his reddened face with his sleeve, over and over again, but the tears wouldn't stop falling. "You're not in love with me, Jaehyun," he hissed, and he could see the pain flicker on the boy's face. His makeup started to smudge, eyeliner getting in his contacts.
Jaehyun swallowed thickly, a cold tear rolling down his fair skin. "I'm sorry that I love you."
He was heartbroken and felt as if he stooped to the lowest of lows, outright confessing his love to the beautiful boy who even looked pretty when he cried. His soul was barren and Taeyong was stripping every bit of it that he had left, and he was forced to let him.
Because he was the one in love, and it felt like absolute shit.
Taeyong sniffled. "You are such a fucking liar."
Those few words tumbled out of the pink haired's mouth, and before Jaehyun knew it, he was standing by himself in front of that wooden bench.
Taeyong was gone,
again.
-
Taeyong sat on his bathroom floor, thin form slouched down against the bottom cabinet of the sink. Bottles surrounded him, some of which he finished off and others he dumped down the bathtub drain in a frenzied high, a piece of him not wanting to impulsively drink them too.
This was a familiar setting he found himself in more often than not.
But no, he was not usually throwing glasses up against the walls every time he remembered somebody saying those exact same words Jaehyun had uttered this evening. There's pain in those words.
I love you.
This time it was his mother. Her soft, solacing voice dancing gracefully in the air as she cradled his head in her arms and combed through his hair with her slender fingers. He felt content here, being in somebody's arms that he knew he could trust for the rest of his life. Taeyong trusted this woman with all of his heart, to protect him, to have his best interests mind, to scold him maturely when he did something wrong.
He loved her too. He knew she'd take care of him, no matter how old he got. Forever. Mother's love was endlessly warm, full of an instinct to shelter all her children with a gentle ease and an assertive, but soothing tone.
The boy was comfortable with her, not worrying about small things like his tone of voice or clothes in her presence. Where she was, was a place called home. She was his home. He'd go wherever she went until he grew out of high school and went on a different path. But until then, he was happy.
When Taeyong started to grow out of his middle school trousers and soccer shirts, they'd get into arguments more frequently. It would be over stupid stuff, like the television being too loud while he was trying to study for an exam.
"Please turn the tv down," Taeyong implored as he stood at the bottom of the staircase, his voice carrying a bit more attitude than it should've.
His mother crossed her arms, a menacing look in her coffee brown eyes. "You think you control everything, Taeyong," she suddenly spat, a lot more harsh than the usual bickering the two had in the past. "No, I'm not turning it down."
"Please, I'm trying to study!"
The woman hardened her glare, her red lips tugging into a deep frown. This is when it started. "You're such a spoiled brat. Like seriously, just mind your own business. If you were a good student you'd join one of the study groups outside of school and not come down here to deliberately start an argument. You came down here to pick a fight and I'm not having it. You just start trouble: you're a troublemaker."
Taeyong's jaw dropped, and he tried to ignore the sudden shakiness in his hands and the lump that formed in his throat. "But I only came down here to ask you to turn down the tv," he retorted back, eyebrows furrowed in incredulity. He ran those insults she spat at him through his mind, and mumbled, "I'm sorry that I'm such a burden to you—that I just start trouble."
The woman raised her eyebrows. "You come down here to beat down all of us. What happened to you?" she asked, the boy's chest aching despite the irrationality of the jabs. "Why don't you go outside anymore? Go into the real world. Go get a life, Taeyong. The only hobby you have is to manipulate us into getting what you want."
The freshman felt hot as boiling tears claw at his eyes, a wave of anger wafting over him. Was this seriously just because he wanted the tv turned down? He was getting all this, all these horrible, horrible insults from his own mother? He didn't even want to be near her anymore, let alone in the same house.
And it was like that every time they fought, and his mother would always play the victim card when he called her out for instantly attacking his character out of nowhere. It didn't change anything. If he spoke a single word about what he was feeling she would then accuse him of being self pitying.
And it hurt. It tore a tear inside his heart and left a deep, unsettling scar full of insecurities and pungent self hatred. Everything he thought about himself in the reflection was verified by his mother who told him it everyday.
Manipulative.
Self pitying.
Controlling.
Pessimistic.
A brat.
Selfish.
She didn't love him. She lied all these years, because how could you say such terrible things about your own son like that, purposely deteriorating his self esteem?
The worst part of it all was that she was sober.
And the worst thing an intoxicated Taeyong could do when thinking of her was throw a glass at the wall.
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He was so disappointed in her. He wanted a mom that was tenacious and tender towards him, not one that would rip him apart from the inside out. He trusted her, more than any human being on this Earth, just to offer him something as simple as love. That's all he wanted.
The bottle shattered against the tile, bits of clear, sharp glass flying everywhere around the large en-suite. Sometimes the glass would cut into Taeyong's skin, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything in this state.
I love you.
Those boys; they'd tell Taeyong that about every time. He'd get all excited every time, almost believing that it might be a start of a relationship, his heart swelling in ecstasy.
He was so dumb for falling for that every time. They'd go to each other's own house or apartment and would have sex—it was something intimate to Taeyong, something you only shared with your most beloved one, so he thought these people really did care for him on a deeper level. But once a few weeks past, they would move on.
Break up with the pink haired without a single glance back. Not even a phone call.
That was a constant cycle for a couple months before Taeyong stopped caring for relationships at all, assuming that everyone really did just want him for his small body and doll-like face.
He didn't think about something more than that anymore. It was clear that no one wanted an actual connection with him; he was objectified, and do to his crippling inner confidence, it wasn't hard for him to comply to this idea.
A wine glass screamed against the tile, a piece of the glass cutting open Taeyong's hand.
I love you.
Jaehyun's face began to bloom in his head, slowly but surely, materializing so distinctly in his memories that it almost felt like he was sitting right in front of him.
"You can't be in love with me!" Taeyong screamed hysterically, pearly, jagged lines of tears swelling his red cheeks. He reached for another bottle, this time backing up to the edge of the bathtub and swinging it straight at the mirror.
They collided against each other, causing an ear-splitting smash to resonate in the room, echoing off the tiled walls. Taeyong got hurt again, quite a few scratch marks on his pale skin while a minimal amount of others were visibly deeper and red—mostly on his hands from holding the chipped material.
Taeyong put his hands on the nape of his neck, burying his nose into his knees. Why'd it have to be him? Why was this person, that he hoped he could keep forever—at least as a friend—have to be the next predator, ready to squeeze every bit of self-respect and love out of the boy's little melancholic heart?
"You don't love me," he sobbed, tears dripping from his waterline and into a small puddle on the floor. "You c-can't, you dumb liar."
He felt his eyes become heavy and a gloomy notion settle deep within his heart, the lethargy making the sadness so much worse. Jaehyun was his only friend that began to feel like a real friend again, and the boy slipped out of his fingers right before Taeyong got too happy.
This one ached the most.
The small boy was merely awoken from his slumber on the bathroom ground when loud, hefty knocks pounded on the door. He rubbed his eyes, noticing the sharp pain right in the middle of his back as he came fully into conscious. The knocks continued, and he yelled, "coming!" despite not knowing who that could've been.
Taeyong forced himself off of the floor, avoiding the complete wreck of glass crystals as he quickly shuffled to his bedroom, pulling out semi-decent clothes that wasn't his plaid pajamas. He didn't have time to get mad at himself for the mess in the bathroom, barely having time to slip his pants on before the knocks came again, this time more aggressively.
He rolled his eyes when bolting it to the front door and whipping it open, stomach dropping once meeting two police officers on the other side. "Hi," Taeyong spoke kindly, tension airing around between the three males. "Can I do something for you?"
The young officers looked surprised to see a petite boy with unkept, pink hair that stuck out every which way answer the door. "Hello, Mr. Lee," the one on the left greeted himself with a small wave, and his pupils dilated when meeting the boy's eyes. Taeyong leaned against his doorframe with his hands stuffed in his pockets, strong eyebrows furrowed and a jut on his lips. "I'm officer Kim Doyoung and that's officer Moon Taeil."
Taeyong shifted his eyes to Taeil, who beamed at him. The act was very contradictory considering what kind of news he delivered next.
"We are here, because we received various noise complaints from the this floor and the one below it. I'm sorry to say this, but the landlord decided to evict you," he explained, handing the boy over a paper.
The pink haired boy felt like he was going to cry, but swallowed it down and asked quietly, "Do you need to search the place? To see what damage is done?" He cringed at his choice of words.
"As long as you didn't damage any walls or counter space, you should be fine," Doyoung said empathetically.
Taeyong drew in a deep breath, somehow managing to smile at the pair. "Thank you." He closed the door gently on them, resting his back against the wood. He felt himself getting choked up, letting his legs cave and back slide down the length of the door and to the kitchen floor in a ball.
The resident stared at the paper, which had stated he needed to be out—and by tomorrow.
How the fuck was he going to manage that?
His sullen eyes ran around the apartment that he stayed in for years, anxiously grabbing and letting go of his sleeves. This was the place he holed himself in, where he hid himself from the real world since he ran away. Everything was white, bland, clean.
Empty.
It all felt empty.
He started to wonder if he even cared. Why the fuck did he care? He'd never felt at home, so is losing this one actually that bad? It's not like he didn't have enough funds to afford a new one. But why was it so hard to let go of?
Taeyong unlinked his arms from around his legs and stood up, wiping the tears from his skin. He immediately went to go get a few bags and the one worn suitcase he rarely used and started folding and neatly putting his articles of clothing in. That's the only things he wished to take. He didn't care about anything else. The boy didn't have anything of actual value to want to keep.
He was going to get the hell out of here. He didn't even want to look at the place anymore, it made him nauseous.
Thoughts of who he was going to stay with for the time being slowly passed through his mind, and one of the only people he could think of is Ten. But Ten's house was most certainly not a good setting. He had a boyfriend, for fucks sake. What was he going to tell his boyfriend? He was just a friend? Because he knew for a fact that Ten didn't think of him in that way.
If he wasn't such a goddamn emotional wreck, such a fucking pathetic piece of shit, he wouldn't be having this problem right now.
The pink haired cried as he packed up his things.
He couldn't do anything right,
couldn't even find a home.