The next time they meet, when Jungkook orders, he gets Tae's latte in those white cups. He gets his own to go. And takes the empty paper cup with him as they separate, like usual.
On a Saturday, when they see each other at the coffee shop, Jungkook invites him for dinner instead, lifting the bag of groceries he has in one hand. It looks heavy, but Jungkook just smiles at him.
Tae says sure, and trusts his gut instincts to follow Jungkook into a cab, and to his apartment.
The apartment complex is an expensive one, that Tae feels a little intimidated to step into the elevator with Kook, wondering if they allow pets in the building. And Jungkook just stands still in the elevator, straight and looking up at the numbers counting up to 4.
He follows Kook to his apartment, watches him entering his passcode and listens to the ringing of the door as he holds it open for Tae to get in.
Somehow the apartment feels quieter than the quiet, empty corridor outside.
Kook says he wants to cook pasta as he brings the groceries into the kitchen, Tae staring at the closed door behind him, looking at the many locks on the door. And Tae asks him if he can help.
Jungkook says no, sit down and wait while he chops these onions expertly. Yet his eyes get teary anyway, and Tae laughs.
Jungkook chuckles. It's rare.
So Tae sits at the table after insisting that he gets the plates and utensils ready, reading over the bottle of wine Jungkook has placed on the table.
1834.
"I'm not good at it, but I've been practicing," Jungkook tells him, serving the food.
"You were especially good with the knife," Tae smiles at him, having watched how Jungkook has chopped things with smooth movements in the kitchen. Sometimes Tae cuts his own finger just chopping carrots. He wonders if he should tell Jungkook that, if he would be amused by the information.
He doesn't.
They eat.
And it's bland. So when Jungkook asks him how is it, Tae has to laugh and tell him the truth.
He thinks Kook blushes, dressed in a casual dark blue sweater, hair a little messy from cooking. He smiles, and Tae wants him to smile wider. Wonders what would make him do that.
"I'll do better next time," he tells Tae.
Tae stares at him, a little surprised at the thought of next time. He nods though, and feels a little elated that Kook implied there will be a next time.
After the meal, Jungkook walks him down the building, and calls him a cab. Said he's paying for it, and get back home safe.
Tae tells Hoseok and Yoongi about everything. The now dinners—no more coffee shop, the food they cooked up together once Kook allows him to help and the way Jungkook gets awkward while cooking but chops things just fine.
But they don't seem as excited as Taehyung is.
They ask him what he knows about Jungkook in the empty bar while the manager gets ready for opening.
"He's good looking, so he freelances," Tae tells them over the sound of the tv reporting the death of an important government official. "He likes cinnamon rolls. And his coffee to go."
(Yet he doesn't tell them that he calls from a private number, that Tae feels like he has no right to ask about. Why does it matter when he could hear his voice, saying he wants to meet him because he's found a new recipe for a pasta dish?)
Yoongi and Hoseok exchange looks over the bar. They sigh.
The chief of police says they will hold a tight investigation on the case at a conference on the tv.
Tae knows his friends worry. They were the ones who held back the man screaming in the hospital saying he wanted to see Tae. The ones who took the shoe box from him when he couldn't let go and buried it deep under the ground because Tae was rendered powerless, terrified down to his bones of everything, even for the very friends who were protecting him.
And Jungkook.
They don't know him. Jungkook doesn't come for his performances anymore, nor the coffee shop; he's just at his apartment now. Sometimes he asks Tae to buy the ingredients for dinner before coming.
And Tae appreciates his friends worrying over him, but he's never felt so safe, and maybe happy for so long.
"We're happy you know," Yoongi manages a smile for Tae. "You seem to like him a lot."
Tae looks down at his nails. He thinks he does. Jungkook is so kind, and gentle. He thinks he even wants to learn to bake cinnamon rolls just so he could give them to him.
But at the same time it's a scary thing.
He likes people too easily. That was his flaw. What brought the sirens and violence.
Yet there's a little voice inside him that tells him—convinces him, Jungkook isn't like that.
He's not.