I.
When Taeyong is six years old, he's told that he's too compassionate.
"You're so kind," his mother tells him, "but you're far too trusting. Honey, if you're not careful, someone is going to take advantage of that kindness."
Taeyong only smiles at her concern. He thinks of it as no more than her being overprotective, being worried for nothing. He hasn't seen much of the world beyond his backyard and the city park, but none of what he's seen has been particularly concerning.
Oh well , he thinks. That's just how Mom is .
When the weather is nice and the sun is high in the sky, Taeyong visits their neighbor's house. He doesn't know much about the elderly woman who lives there, but he does know about the golden retriever puppy that stays in the backyard. The gated fence, he's discovered, doesn't actually have a lock. Summer days turn into joyful chases around the lawn, the puppy's high-pitched barks matched in intensity only by Taeyong's laughter.
To six-year-old Taeyong, he's a master of stealth and deception. It's years later that he realizes his mother was fully aware of how he spent his afternoons, turning a blind eye as long as he made sure the puppy got home safely. But for now, he gleefully keeps the secret to himself, running back inside for dinner when the mouth-watering smells of his mother's cooking creep out the cracked window. His mother pats his head, piles his plate high, tells him why his father can't make it to dinner tonight, and reiterates again, "Be careful."
And Taeyong giggles, because everything is perfect.
❦
In the last month of summer before kindergarten starts, the Incident happens.
Taeyong is exploring the fringes of the park with his neighbor's puppy, jumping in puddles from the afternoon rainshower. The puppy zig-zags in every direction so fast that Taeyong can hardly keep up, sniffing at anything from flowers to signposts.
Near the picnic benches, the puppy gets even more inquisitive. She practically sticks her nose into a mound of something Taeyong can't identify, excitedly sniffing.
"Come on," Taeyong implores her. "There's more exciting things to see over by━"
He's cut off by the puppy giving a sharp yelp. She jerks away from the mound and scrambles away, pressing her face into the grass. Taeyong almost thinks she's being playful until he sees the sea of little red creatures crawling on her nose.
"Fire ants," Taeyong can remember his mother telling him. "Stay away from them, Taeyong, unless you want painful bites."
But she'd never told him what to do after the bites started, had she? Taeyong's bottom lip quivers, eyes blown wide with fright, before he leaps into action equipped with nothing but desperation.
His bare hands wipe back and forth across the puppy's nose, staying course despite her squirming. It almost seems like it's working until he spots more ants on her cheek and the returning bites bloom in angry red splotches on his hands. Taeyong nearly starts to cry.
Before the first tear can fall, he scoops the whining puppy into his arms and dashes to the river on the park's edge. He dunks her snout into the water and continues to furiously brush the red menaces off. For those few minutes, Taeyong's world is nothing but splashing water and biting pain.
It finally comes to an end, though after how long Taeyong couldn't say. He lays bonelessly on the river bank and doesn't let the puppy go. She's stopped whimpering now, stopped trying to bury her face in the dirt, but her quiet shaking makes Taeyong's heart ache even more than his abused hands.
I would do anything to help her , he thinks sincerely. As he strokes his fingers through her fur, an unsettling tingle runs up his spine, but he pays it little mind.
Thankfully, it only takes a few minutes until the puppy seems to calm down. Her shakes fade into nothing but the steady pulse of her heartbeat, and the sparkle behind her eyes once again returns to its normal shine. With a series of excited barks, she leads a relieved Taeyong out of the park. When he sees her sniff one last flower by the entrance with just as much enthusiasm as when they'd arrived, the last weight comes off Taeyong's shoulders.
He puts her back within the confines of her fence early that day. There's still plenty of time before he has to go inside, but there's a part of him that's worried about hurting her again, no matter how unintentional. Taeyong shakes his head at the thought.
His troubled young heart grows lighter when he surrounds himself with distraction, however, and the front yard has plenty of such distractions. Taeyong's thoughts wander in any and all directions as his fingers pull out clumps of grass, twisting them together in intricate chains. There's dirt under his nails and probably green stains on his jeans, but he's content.
"Taeyong?"
The spell is broken immediately. Taeyong blinks to clear his head, twisting his body around to face the sound of his mother's voice.
"Yes, Mom?"
She looks at him strangely from the doorway, brows furrowing together. "Aren't you coming in, sweetheart? I made your favorite. The whole house smells like cinnamon."
Taeyong lifts his nose up to sniff once, twice at the air, and is left even more confused. He can't smell any trace of his favorite meal, only...no, not even the smell of grass and summer air. Taeyong can't smell a thing.
"Mom, I think something's wrong," he says worriedly. "I think my nose might be broken?"
She squints her eyes and peers at him closer. "A broken nose? It looks just fine to me."
"No, not broken broken. It won't work. It's like I can't smell anything."
His mother's expression immediately darkens. Taeyong hardly has time to uncomfortably shift in the grass before she strides outside and hauls him to his feet, gripping his shoulders with a frightening intensity.
"Where did you go today? What did you do?"
"Mom, you're hurting me!"
"Answer me! What did you do?"
Distressed tears well up in the corners of Taeyong's eyes. What did he do to make his mother so angry? Why is she acting like he's doing something wrong?
"I...went to the park with the neighbor's dog," he admits, trying not to shake. "There were ants on her nose, and they bit me when I tried to get them off. She was scared, but...she seemed okay before I came home━"
"What did you think?"
"What?"
"What did you think?" she repeats, a fire burning in her eyes. "Did you ask for her to get better? Wish to take her pain away?"
Taeyong thinks back to that pretty picture of the two of them sprawled out on the grass, the puppy's tiny form seeking solace in his warmth. He tries to remember what had run through his head.
"I just...thought about how I would do anything to make her happy again. Why does that matter?"
The grip on his shoulders somehow tightens. "It matters because it's you . Get back in the house and don't leave until I tell you to. Understood?"
A tear finally overflows, tracing a jagged path down Taeyong's face. He finds himself unable to meet her eyes.
"Okay."
When the lock clicks shut behind them, it sounds more definitive than ever.
Later, when Taeyong is banished to his room, he'll eavesdrop on his parents’ raised voices over the dinner table, catching snippets here and there about complications during Taeyong's birth, a vision just before, a strange curse that his mother seems unwilling or unable to discuss. But he'll still have no idea of the consequences ━ and the path that he's set himself on.
II.
When Taeyong is 13 years old, he's told that he's too reckless.
His mother has long since rescinded her policy of never letting him leave the house, but she still keeps him on a tight curfew, still chides him for doing anything beyond taking a walk in the front yard. The Incident lies mostly behind them in memory, but her strictness ━ not to mention the way Taeyong's father looks at him like he's not quite right ━ remains.
During the first year of middle school, Taeyong meets Youngho. To anyone who didn't know him, Youngho was tall, imposing, and mysterious. To Taeyong, he's a fast friend who's quick to laugh and impart his own personal wisdom. They grow close immediately, and even this year Taeyong's free nights are spent getting up to whatever shenanigans Youngho has planned for them.
Youngho is also, it turns out, a good shoulder to cry on. Taeyong finds this out the hard way when the puppy ━ a dog now, no longer a puppy ━ next door passes away shortly before her owner. They stand side by side at a handmade empty grave and don't say a word.
Taeyong isn't sure why he starts crying. He hasn't let the dog out of the fence to play in years, her old joints becoming too worn down to keep up with a teenage boy. But maybe it's because even at the tender age of 13, he feels like he's lost some last piece of his childhood, before all... this started. Whatever the reason, Youngho wraps an arm around him and doesn't bring it up again.
(There's a small voice in the back of Taeyong's head taking note that even with the dog's passing, his sense of smell hasn't returned. He shoves any thought of the Incident down to where he can think on it no longer.)
Sometimes, when his parents' disagreements escalate to the point of making him uncomfortable, Taeyong will slip out of his bedroom window unnoticed and head to Youngho's house down the street. Youngho seems more than happy to take control of the unexpected visits, booting up his game console or leading them to egg their math teacher's house. (That was only once, and while they luckily hadn't gotten caught, they had agreed never to do it again.)
On one such evening, Youngho gets that smirk on his face that appears when he has an idea Taeyong's parents probably wouldn't like.
"You know, Taeyong," he says. "We're outcasts, right? We don't fit in with the other kids or the bullshit that school's trying to teach us."
Taeyong nods his head wordlessly, knowing better than to interrupt.
"But if we're going to be outcasts," Youngho continues, "we need to look and act the part. That's why I need you to steal some of your dad's cigarettes."
"Youngho, I don't think━"
"I've seen the way some of those kids shove you around. They wouldn't dare do it anymore if they see you smoking like those outcasts in the movies. Have I ever led you wrong?"
"No, but..."
"But?"
Taeyong's lips press together in a thin line. Stealing doesn't sit right in his chest, but Youngho has a lot of different ideas about the world and those ideas have never been wrong before.
When he hesitantly agrees, Youngho nods like he hadn't expected a different answer.
❦
The following evening, Taeyong presents Youngho with the box of pilfered cigarettes. He still doesn't have a good feeling about this. He makes sure to tell Youngho as much. But the thing about Youngho is that as open-minded as he claims to be, he's also incredibly stubborn.
"You brought them. We're doing this," Youngho says with finality. "And besides, don't you want to get back at your parents?"
"...What?"
"I figured you would. A mother who doesn't want her son to be seen in public and a father who seems like he couldn't care less about what happens to━"
"Don't say that." Taeyong's not sure if he's more angry or frightened by hearing those words spoken aloud, but he knows he doesn't want to hear it.
Youngho holds his hands up in apology. He doesn't take back the words, but he does stop. He pulls a cigarette out of the box and lights the end with a lighter he's brought from who-knows-where. He takes a long drag before letting the smoke escape from his lips. Taeyong watches as the tendrils curl upward toward the sky before disappearing into nothing.
"It smells worse than I thought it would," Youngho admits, wrinkling his nose.
Taeyong shrugs and says nothing. He wouldn't know.
"Now it's your turn. You can use mine."
"I don't really want to━"
"Taeyong, come on. We didn't go through all this trouble just so you could wimp out at the last minute, right? Be a man."
So Taeyong does take a turn, and immediately regrets it. The cigarette drops to a smoking ruin on the ground as Taeyong chokes, his body doing its best to cough up both his lungs. He hates everything about it.
Youngho seems more amused than anything. He laughs and claps Taeyong twice on the back before starting to light a new cigarette.
Except he doesn't finish. They both lay eyes on the policewoman approaching their clearing the same moment she calls out for them to stay where they are. Taeyong is very aware they look like exactly what they are: two underage teens breaking the law with stolen goods.
Youngho must know how bad it looks, too, because he spooks. With his eyes still on the policewoman, Taeyong doesn't see exactly what happens, but there's a flash of the lighter, a yelp of pain drawn from Youngho's lips, and suddenly the two of them are sprinting in the opposite direction.
They don't end up running far. The last thing they need to top off the night is getting lost and not being able to see a way back. But their frenzied, twisted path seems to be enough to throw the officer off their trail and give them a chance to catch their breaths.
As soon as Taeyong's heart rate returns to normal, he looks over in Youngho's direction. The other boy is holding his hands gingerly to his mouth, visibly in pain.
"What happened?" Taeyong asks him.
Youngho starts to respond for only a brief moment before changing his mind, but it's enough. It's enough for Taeyong to catch a glimpse of the ugly burn marks that now mar the fleshy pinks of Youngho's mouth. Whatever accident he'd had, it was going to leave a very permanent scar.
"It hurts," Youngho finally gets out, every word clearly a battle. "My tongue...I burnt it? I can't feel it at all."
There's a desperation in those words Taeyong has never heard from him before. It's a foreign concept, seeing Youngho not in control. Taeyong hates the uncomfortable itch that settles under his skin. Youngho is supposed to be strong for both of them, always know what's best. Where does that leave Taeyong, if Youngho is shaking and whimpering with no guidance to speak of?
He really doesn't think it through. Before he gets the chance to, Taeyong takes Youngho's face in his hands, ignores the surprised "What?" he gets in return, and thinks that it should have been him. He wishes it had been.
Half of him honestly thinks it won't work. But right on cue, that same tingle from seven years ago runs up his spine, making him shiver, and Youngho freezes in his grip. Taeyong watches with bated breath as Youngho puts a hesitant finger to his tongue, revealing where those burn marks have vanished entirely. A miracle. A curse.
"I can feel it again, but how━?"
Youngho's head jerks out of Taeyong's hold. He stares at the other boy with wide eyes before taking another few steps back.
"So everything they say about you..." Youngho accuses. "It's all true."
Taeyong feels himself shrink under that unblinking gaze. "I don't know," he says in a whisper. "I don't understand how it works, or why."
The wariness in Youngho's expression finally seems to cave to curiosity. "But you don't heal people, right? You just give them something of yours. That's what the others all say."
"I don't know."
When Youngho pulls a chocolate bar out from his pocket and forces it into Taeyong's hand, Taeyong feels nauseous.
"Eat it," Youngho commands. The authority in those words is so clear that Taeyong follows them without protest, though he spits out the chocolate into the wrapper after a single chew.
"Well? Can you still taste it?"
Youngho's looking at him like he's some sort of alien. Taeyong looks instead at the worn tops of his sneakers.
"No."
They don't speak of that day again. And it's only later that night when the moment replays over and over in Taeyong's head, keeping him from sleeping, that he realizes he never got a 'thank you'.
❦
For another day or two, Youngho makes an effort to keep things normal. But Taeyong can feel them slowly drifting apart, the other obviously disturbed by whatever disease has wormed its way into Taeyong's body.
At the very least, Youngho doesn't tell the other children. Their harsh words and shoving in the hallways are no worse than usual, not fueled by the flame of new rumors. Taeyong is grateful. And so he still tags along at Youngho's side, even if it's only for the hours school is in session.
His parents notice. Over the dinner table, Taeyong's mother asks, "Weren't you going to get together with that boy tonight?"
"Youngho said he was busy." Again.
"Like you should be with your schoolwork," his father interjects.
Taeyong stares very intently at his vegetables, trying to ignore the thinly-veiled disdain in that voice. "Of course, Dad."
"Look at me when I'm talking to you."
Taeyong's eyes unwillingly come to focus instead on his father's face. "I'm sorry."
"Sure you are. Whatever made you think you were such hot shit, huh? Disrespectful brat."
Taeyong throws a glance his mother's way, but she hasn't lifted her head.
"I'm sorry."
"That all you've got to say? If you don't want to have a conversation, you can eat without me wasting your time."
The chair scrapes over the floor as he leaves, leaving Taeyong and his mother to finish the meal by themselves. The clink of silverware occasionally gives the room some life, but otherwise they eat in silence.
That's okay, Taeyong thinks with a forced smile. Everything is still perfect.
III.
When Taeyong is 17 years old, he's told that he's too much of a disappointment.
Those words come primarily from his father, who spends whatever time he isn't filling his lungs with nicotine either fighting with Taeyong's mother or taking every opportunity to put Taeyong down.
Freak, he'll call him. Monster. Freeloader. Waste of space. Really, it's not much different than what the other children have called him all his life. But this is much worse, harder to ignore, because it's his father . Who else is ever going to be proud of him, if this man can't be?
It certainly won't be Youngho, not anymore. Youngho moved away to go to a different high school two years ago, taking away Taeyong's one means to pull himself out of his deepening pit of isolation. He slips into a toxic cycle of anxiety and stress that leaves his grades hanging on by a mere thread. Long hours deep into the night are spent curled up in his room writing page after page that all too often ends up crumpled in the trash. But if Taeyong doesn't put his thoughts down on paper, he feels like he'll explode.
One late January night, when the music coming from Taeyong's taped-up earbuds doesn't entirely mask his parents' shouting, he hears their argument start to escalate. By the time he pulls the buds out to check, the sound of a door slamming shut is the only one left to hear. A loud swear from his father lets Taeyong know his mother is the one who walked out.
She doesn't come back.
The house smells more and more like cigarette smoke, Taeyong stays locked in his room, and even when he goes to school each day it feels more like moving to another prison than escaping one.
He sees the other students around him smiling, laughing, loving , and he feels a jealous sort of sadness curl in his gut until it suddenly hits him ━ love. And he thinks, What if .
At home that night, Taeyong doesn't breeze past his father like he usually does. He takes the man's arm and thinks with all his might that he would give up anything for his father to see him as someone worth of affection.
The pair are still for a long moment, before Taeyong's father shakes him off with a biting, "Keep your filthy hands to yourself."
Taeyong turns away without a word. He sprints back upstairs to his safe haven and doesn't come back down for dinner.
That day, he learns that for whatever cruel reason, he's stuck with forever holding on to his ability to love.
❦
Three months later, Taeyong's father is admitted to the hospital.
Taeyong only half-understands what the doctors tell him over and over again, about too much smoking and that ghastly word 'cancer', but he knows it's bad. The resulting surgeries land his father in a closely monitored hospital bed with a throat so damaged beyond repair that he can no longer speak a word. Taeyong learns as much from his daily visits, watching over his father's sleeping form until school or sleep call him away. The old rusty bicycle in the garage finally turns out to be useful for something, after all.
His father remains unresponsive for around two weeks of visits, but finally he stirs when the door creaks open. Taeyong starts to leave again, not wanting to take up space where he isn't necessarily welcome, but his father gestures for him to come forward and take his hand.
When was the last time his father had looked at him like this, like he was really seeing him? Taeyong is almost tempted to say never.
Movement draws Taeyong's eyes to his father's other free hand, which slowly comes to rest against his throat. His grip on Taeyong's hand tightens meaningfully, and oh. Oh .
Taeyong understands. He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. His father has said horrible things to him, kept him at a distance when the last thing Taeyong needed was to be pushed away. But that still doesn't change the fact that he's the only family Taeyong has left. So Taeyong bows his head and asks for the impossible.
The familiar shiver runs up his spine. His father clears his throat and looks into Taeyong's eyes. And very clearly, very seriously he tells him, "Lee Taeyong...maybe your mother wouldn't have left if you hadn't been born such a monster."
Even if he still had a voice, Taeyong would be left speechless.
Rusty wheels carry him back to an empty house that day. He screams out his shattered trust with a soundless breath, curls up in the darkest corner of his room. And he cries, because nothing is ━ or ever has been ━ perfect.
IV.
When Taeyong is 19 years old, he's told that he's too cold.
He enters college with a steely resolve never to get hurt again, shutting himself off to the world and keeping everyone a more than comfortable distance away. A new set of faces means a new beginning, which means becoming the hardened loner no one wants to cross is only a matter of playing the part. It's a role Taeyong finds himself slipping into almost too well.
The college he's attending is a community one, not a big name but still a path to a degree. His slipping high school grades had been barely enough to make it in, but thankfully financial aid allows him to go there without having to take drastic measures.
The scholarship, however, provides nothing in the way of housing or food. With Taeyong's focus on relearning everything he missed in high school, that doesn't leave time for any sort of job. He's solved that problem by sleeping in the abandoned house up the road from campus, biking in, and scrounging free food off club meetings. If anyone has noticed that he's dangerously thin, they haven't said anything.
But when it all seems like too much, Taeyong reminds himself this will be worth it. Though he's ceremoniously cut himself off from his father, if he can graduate and get a job, he'll be completely independent. He'll finally be free from a family that had brought him nothing but hardship and self-hatred.
Taeyong refuses to be seen as the freak again in this new chapter of his life. The plan is simple: slip in and out of all his lectures without anyone taking notice or having to explain that he can't speak. Graduate before people realize they've never said a word to his face.
That plan comes crashing down a mere month into the new school year when the boy sitting next to him prods Taeyong's arm with a "Hey."
Taeyong ignores the voice and continues to pack up his things, not giving the boy the satisfaction of turning his way. Everyone else seems to have gotten the message that he's not someone to engage with ━ why is this boy different?
The poking continues, becoming more insistent. Taeyong finally whips around to fix him with a dark stare...and is the boy laughing at him? He's clearly trying to hold it in, mirth dancing in his eyes.
"You dropped your pen," he says, handing it back.
Taeyong takes it, feeling like an idiot, and leaves before the boy can say anything more.
Except, for the next lecture, the same boy sits next to him again. He gives Taeyong a quick "Hi" before the lecture starts, still smiling when Taeyong in turn gives him no more than a glance. It seems like nothing can faze him. This goes on for the next week, until they're packing up to leave one day and the boy blocks Taeyong's path out.
"I'm Jung Jaehyun, first year," he introduces. "What's your name?"
Panic sparks in Taeyong's chest for a fleeting moment before he swallows it down, shaking his head. The action makes Jaehyun frown.
"You can't talk, or you don't want to?" he asks.
It's a curious question, not a hostile one. Taeyong can't give it an answer, but Jaehyun must see it in his face, because he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen instead.
"You can write it if you want," he says. "Otherwise you can leave. Didn't mean to corner you or anything like that."
It's mostly shock at the lack of further questions that compels Taeyong to write his name out on that scrap. Logically, a single conversation is a hell of a risk to take a chance on, give up a mask of secrecy to. But Taeyong's logic seems to have already left the lecture hall.
Jaehyun takes the paper back and smiles when he sees an actual name written. "Lee Taeyong," he sounds out like he's trying to memorize it. "Nice to meet you."
Taeyong thinks that's the end of it when he sees Jaehyun tuck the paper back into the pocket of his jeans. When he's finished with that, however, he studies Taeyong a few moments longer, like he's debating whether or not he should say something.
Here it comes , Taeyong thinks. The beginning of the end.
"You know..." Jaehyun finally says. "You're not so hard. I can see right through the act. If you ever want to drop it, I won't think any less of you."
Taeyong shrinks back on instinct, feeling all his hard work beginning to crumble right before his eyes. Jaehyun gives him one last smile and leaves.
❦
He may have been caught with his defenses down once, but Taeyong still does his best to ignore Jaehyun's easy grins and "Hey, Taeyong"s three days a week. He refuses to give up on his original plan just because one boy decided to put a dent in his armor.
What does Taeyong even know about Jaehyun? He doesn't seem to have many close friends. He seems mature in a way that makes Taeyong think he's had to grow up too fast. In some ways, Jaehyun reminds him of a less reckless version of Youngho.
But why bother with Taeyong? Maybe Jaehyun sees him as a pity project. Maybe he sees him as someone to take advantage of. At the end of the second month, Taeyong decides to at least see if he can confirm any of his fears.
" What do you want from me? " he scribbles on a torn page of his notebook, passing it to Jaehyun during lecture.
He doesn't expect the " To be your friend " he gets in return. That only leaves him with more questions, ones he's not sure how to put down on paper.
' Why? ' he finally writes, but Jaehyun looks at the paper and doesn't give it back.
It's only after class that Jaehyun asks Taeyong to stay a moment, telling him sincerely, "I think you're interesting. Not to be presumptuous, but in some ways you remind me of myself. All I want is to get to know you better. No ulterior motives."
Taeyong isn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he nods his head and meets Jaehyun's eyes firmly with his own.
Fine , he wants that gaze to say. But if you're lying, you'll live to regret it.
The message must get across to some degree, because the smile on Jaehyun's face grows a little wider.
"Want to come with me to the chess club meeting tonight?" he asks, passing Taeyong his backpack. "I couldn't care less about the chess, but there's free pizza and I've been craving pepperoni."
The answering smile on Taeyong's face feels out of place, but not in a bad way. It feels like the beginning of something new.
This time when Jaehyun leaves, Taeyong tags along.
❦
The rest of the fall semester finds the pair growing gradually closer, Taeyong's grudging acceptance of the other's presence evolving into a firm friendship. Jaehyun admittedly makes lecture less painful to get through, and when they begin meeting up on campus to compare notes, Taeyong finally figures out how to study for his exams. Even if it's taken him 14 years of public schooling, it's still better late than never.
Whenever they're in the same space, Taeyong makes it a point to always have his laptop or phone handy so he can message Jaehyun with his thoughts. Jaehyun has adapted surprisingly fast to making conversation that won't necessarily require Taeyong to go the extra step, but all too often Taeyong finds simple gestures and nods fall short of what he wants to say.
Maybe we should both just learn to sign , he occasionally thinks before doubt stops him. What if Jaehyun doesn't want to go through all that trouble? What if the other students catch on and decide to make Taeyong a target again? What if, what if?
All that aside, more often than not it's a companionable silence they both find themselves enjoying. Those silences teach Taeyong just as much as their conversations do. Jaehyun is an only child, and he snores if he falls asleep on his back. One day he wants to change the world, and he has a bad habit of biting his nails when he's concentrating.
It's only when the semester winds down, bringing final exams and a pale blanket of snow, that Taeyong realizes he'll soon have to face a much lonelier kind of silence.
"What are you doing for Christmas break?" Jaehyun asks him in greeting, bumping up against his side.
Snow flies up from under Taeyong's boots when he stumbles. He shrugs the question off, but Jaehyun seems intent on knowing.
"At least tell me where you're going?" he asks. "Home?"
Taeyong shakes his head, stomach sinking.
"Staying in the dorms, then."
A beat of hesitation before Taeyong nods. He can see Jaehyun latch onto it immediately with a frown.
"You're lying to me. Why?"
Taeyong breaks his gaze before pulling out his phone, Jaehyun immediately following suit. The cold makes his fingers shake, but he manages to type out a message.
" I don't have a family I want to go back to. And with money tight, I can't stay in the dorms, so I've been living in that empty house down the road from the engineering building. For the holiday...I have no idea what to do. Suggestions?"
When Jaehyun reads the message, he looks genuinely upset. Taeyong doesn't know what to do other than reach out and squeeze his arm in apology, though for what he isn't sure.
Jaehyun finally looks up from the screen, asking forlornly, "Why didn't you tell me?"
What? Taeyong blinks at him in confusion.
"If you let me know sooner, you wouldn't have had to stay there for so long. I must really be an idiot to not have noticed."
He sounds heartbroken, and Taeyong is taken aback at that emotion being his own doing.
"I'm sorry ," he mouths. He's going to send another message, but Jaehyun's hands reach out to stop his, lowering the phone.
"Not your fault," Jaehyun insists. "But...at least for Christmas break, will you come stay with me? No awkward family dinners, I promise. I have a place to myself just off campus."
A place to stay? A helping hand? Taeyong is almost certain he's dreaming. But at this point, anything is better than starving or freezing to death, so he's not in a position to refuse. He barely feels himself nodding before Jaehyun takes his hand and excitedly pulls him toward the path out of campus.
Between the snow crunching under their feet, the near-slips on the ice, and the sound of Jaehyun's laughter, Taeyong almost doesn't notice the wide grin etched on his face.
❦
Jaehyun wastes no time getting the move-in rolling. He inflates the air mattress in the back of his closet as a second bed, and Taeyong moves his two bags of personal belongings into the narrow space between the couch and the wall. Even despite the hospitality he's been offered, he doesn't want to be a nuisance. He doesn't want to feel like before, when even breathing meant he was taking up space that didn't belong to him.
But sure enough, Taeyong's things start to mix with Jaehyun's own, spreading to the bathroom, to the kitchen, across the living room table. He lets himself feel like this place is one to call his . Jaehyun never tells him otherwise.
The two of them pass the holiday experimenting with different snickerdoodle recipes, making terrible-looking decorations to hang on the walls, and spending lazy afternoons watching whatever's showing on TV. (" Unless it's horror ," Taeyong writes in big letters. He pretends Jaehyun doesn't laugh at him.)
Three days before Christmas, when carols are blasting out of the speakers and Jaehyun starts to sing along, something like loss blooms in Taeyong's chest. The last thing he wants is to kill the other's holiday spirit, but it's a hard thing to hide when every part of him aches to join in.
Jaehyun notices immediately. Somehow, he always does. In no time he's pulling Taeyong into an over-exaggerated waltz around the living room and banishing that ache in the midst of Taeyong's own silent laughter.
On Christmas day, Jaehyun sits Taeyong down in front of their two-foot tall artificial tree. He drops a present into Taeyong's lap, grinning at the other's pout, and also takes a seat on the floor.
"I know we agreed on no presents," Jaehyun tells him, "but don't get mad at me until you open it."
The wrapping paper and ribbons are peeled away to reveal a paperback book. Taeyong can only read the Sign Language for Beginners on the cover for a second or two before his vision begins to swim, making it hard to see. If Jaehyun notices him discreetly wiping his eyes on his sweater sleeve, he doesn't comment.
"Maybe we could learn together?" Jaehyun asks, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "If that's something you want to do, it might be more convenient than messaging all the time."
Taeyong's not sure who he surprises more when he sets the book down and wraps Jaehyun in a grateful hug.
Thank you.
That moment of unexpected weakness turns out to be the last push Taeyong needs to start relearning how to be comfortable around another person. Little by little, he lets Jaehyun into his space, leaning into him for a one-armed hug or propping a head up on his legs to try and finally stay awake (third time’s a charm) through the end of their Lord of the Rings marathon. And sometimes, when the heater isn't working like it should, he'll spend the night in Jaehyun's bed instead, taking advantage of the fact that the other is practically a heater himself.
For the first time in a long time, Taeyong feels safe.
❦
When the spring semester starts up again, neither of them bring up Taeyong leaving. He remains a permanent resident without question, and while they don't have a class together this semester, they still meet up either on campus or back at home to study and relax.
Some part of Taeyong is waiting for it to warp, to fall to pieces. But apart from the occasional disagreement over laundry or channel control, they still get along well.
And maybe one day, Taeyong sees Jaehyun passed out on the couch with the most peaceful expression on his face, and he feels his heart give a strange stutter in his chest. And maybe that night, Taeyong fills eight pages up with words about a boy with kind eyes and even kinder words. And maybe at 3am one morning, in that strange limbo before the sunrise when both of them are half-asleep on the couch, Jaehyun leans over and asks Taeyong's permission to kiss him.
Maybe Taeyong gives it.
They don't give whatever it is a name, but Taeyong thinks that if he can somehow be important to Jaehyun, can somehow bring him half as much happiness as Jaehyun has given him, he's doing something right. Even if Jaehyun doesn't feel for Taeyong what Taeyong feels for him, it's enough.
Sometimes Taeyong thinks he would give Jaehyun his everything. The scariest part is that he could .
It's that thought that makes him sit Jaehyun down on the couch and explain from the beginning. The story is too complicated for what little signing they've learned, so he types until his fingers are sore about all of it: the fear and heartbreak that make up this sickness in his body, the people and experiences he's lost because of it, the overwhelming amount he still doesn't understand.
Jaehyun is dead silent throughout the entire string of messages. When they're finished, he pulls Taeyong into a long embrace, tracing soothing circles into his back.
"Thank you for trusting me with this," Jaehyun says softly. "I don't know how...but I'll help make sure you stay safe. I promise."
They stay like that a little while longer. And somehow, with Jaehyun holding him like this, it feels far more intimate than that hazy 3am kiss.
Taeyong closes his eyes, tightens his hold. Breathes.
❦
Two summers and two more school years come and go. There are pictures on Jaehyun's phone of captured moments: their last-minute decision to drive six hours to the theme park a few cities over, the remnants of the Great Kitchen Disaster of last February, that stupid bus stop selfie with Jaehyun's hand squishing Taeyong's face into fishlips.
But there are also far more than meet the eye, moments that Taeyong captures in pages upon pages of lyrical snippets and rambling paragraphs. Moments like when the sunlight had caught Jaehyun's profile shining in from the window and Taeyong had stopped breathing, when Taeyong had kissed his way down Jaehyun's body and memorized every curve and angle he may never see again, when Jaehyun had brought Taeyong to ecstasy and held him through the aftershocks, carding through his hair so tenderly that just for a moment, Taeyong thought he might have felt something beyond mere pleasure. Those moments are treasured ones.
But near the end of the summer before senior year, it all goes wrong.
It starts out innocently enough. Taeyong stands at Jaehyun's side while they wait for their cart-bought popsicles, watching the crowds mill about. He takes the other's hand without thinking. The action only registers in his mind as a mistake when a scowling man stalks up to them both, letting out a gruff, "Fucking nuisances."
Jaehyun bristles immediately, dropping Taeyong's hand. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Just because you two are sick in the head doesn't mean you have to ruin everyone else's day by parading it around. Maybe go get some help, instead."
"Is that right? I think the one who really needs help━" Jaehyun starts, but Taeyong pulls on his sleeve, shaking his head.
A deep breath swells in Jaehyun's chest. He's still livid, but he looks ready to walk away from the whole situation, popsicles be damned.
Except the man doesn't stop.
"You got something to say, too?" he growls at Taeyong.
Taeyong shrinks back, stepping closer to Jaehyun, and his silence seems to make the man even angrier.
"What, your girlfriend there a fucking mute?" he sneers.
There isn't even time for the remark to hit home before Jaehyun is moving, colliding his fist squarely with the man's face.
The few people near the cart gasp. Jaehyun re-takes a shocked Taeyong's hand and leads him away, both of them trying not to hear the man's swear-laced shouts of promised retribution.
When they make it back to the apartment, they sit on the living room floor in silence. Jaehyun hangs his head, ashamed.
"I'm sorry I got violent," he apologizes. "It won't happen again. When he turned on you I just...didn't even think."
Taeyong interrupts him with a gentle hand cupping his cheek, tilting Jaehyun's head up to meet his eyes.
" It's okay ," he mouths.
His sincerity must show, because Jaehyun's face softens with a tenderness that makes Taeyong's stomach drop. He covers Taeyong's hand with his own, and any memories from earlier are far gone from Taeyong's head.
It was an ugly thing that happened, but at least it's over.
❦
Taeyong finds out how wrong he is three days later, when he and Jaehyun are walking back from getting groceries. The sun is just starting to set, and Taeyong is gazing at the answering oranges and purples blooming in the sky when he feels arms circle his torso and yank him into an alley off the main road.
The groceries spill across the ground. Jaehyun lets out an audible yelp. Only when Taeyong sees the other restrained by a brawny stranger does he realize he's also being held in place. They're trapped at the mercy of whoever is holding them captive.
"Look who it is," a voice comes from further down the alley.
Taeyong sees the same man from the other day emerge from the shadows, flanked by more thugs. There's a cold fire in his eyes that warns of making good on that sworn retribution.
"What is this?" Jaehyun demands. He sounds angry, but Taeyong can see the fear he's hiding behind that anger. He knows every one of Jaehyun's expressions far too well.
"You fuck with me, you fuck with all of us," the man grunts, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo, and Taeyong realizes with a cold chill that Jaehyun had punched a gang member in broad daylight.
Jaehyun must realize it, too, because he visibly pales. "Whatever you're planning to do," he says, "it was my fault, not his. Let him go."
The words set Taeyong struggling against his captor, furiously shaking his head, but Jaehyun resolutely doesn't look his way.
The man shrugs, gesture conflicting with the cruel sneer on his face. "I'm a fair man," he says. "I'll let you choose: you let my boys give you both a black eye or two, or your girlfriend gets off easy and they beat you 'till you're begging. What will it be?"
Don't! Taeyong tries to yell, but only a soft gasp of air leaves his mouth.
"Fine. Let him go and do your worst," Jaehyun spits out.
There's not even time for Taeyong to struggle once more against his captor before the man holding Jaehyun throws him to the ground, Jaehyun's chin hitting the cobblestone with a sickening crack .
Stop! Stop! Stop! plays like a broken record in Taeyong's mind, but he can do nothing. He can only watch as another thug lifts Jaehyun by the front of his shirt to shove him against the building's side. A forceful punch to the jaw snaps Jaehyun's head to the side. With that first blow struck, the others don't hesitate to join in, using fists, elbows, feet, anything that will bring Jaehyun more pain.
And Jaehyun, that fool, has the audacity to look Taeyong's way with an anguished half-smile, sending him a look filled with apologies.
When you promised to protect me, that didn't give you permission to martyr yourself , Taeyong thinks with a vengeance. Only then does he realize the frustrated tears on his face, unable to wipe them away with both his hands restrained.
A sudden shout comes from the gang members' direction, a "Wait, that's not a good idea to━"
Taeyong doesn't near the end of the sentence. But he does see something sparking as it flies through the air toward Jaehyun, does see the men scatter before it makes contact. It explodes with a loud pop! that Taeyong hardly registers as some sort of firecracker through the plunge his heart takes to his feet.
The man restraining him drops his body to the ground with a muttered curse, running after the others back into the shadows. Taeyong is left to crawl toward the fading smoke, Jaehyun's crumpled form coming into view. There are angry red marks covering his face, shards of shrapnel embedded in skin, and blood, blood, so much━
"Taeyong...?"
Taeyong freezes in his hyperventilating. He reaches out to grab Jaehyun's hand, at a loss.
"Taeyong...where are you? I can't...shit, I can't see. Everything is... shit ."
His voice breaks on the last curse, sucking in a pained breath, and the band around Taeyong's chest tightens painfully. It was always going to be like this, wasn't it? The universe could only leave him be so long before getting in one more laugh. But if this is what he can do for Jaehyun...
Taeyong places a gentle hand over Jaehyun's horrible, ruined eyes, flinching when the other man cries out at the contact. He takes one last look at what he can see of that sunset-painted sky. And he thinks, I would rather give up my own sight than let you miss seeing all the beauty this world has to offer .
When that awfully familiar sensation runs up his spine, he chokes back a surge of emotion as his vision goes black. He can hear the sound of the wind blowing past the alley entrance, the sound of Jaehyun's staggered breathing, but the rest of the world is lost to him.
There's something else...a question? An opportunity? Taeyong can feel it in his bones, stirring beneath his skin. He understands it with perfect clarity, accepts what happens next before the question is finished.
"What did you do?" Jaehyun is asking, but Taeyong isn't focused on his words. He's focused on blindly reaching out toward Jaehyun once more, feeling his fingers along the side of the other man's face to find the damage he's expecting. The beginnings of a single, whistled note form on his lips before Jaehyun is pulling Taeyong's wrist away.
"Don't you dare ," he warns, finally catching on. "You can't do this to yourself, not just for my sake."
Except that's not true at all, is it? Taeyong can and he will. In a way, he's known he would since the first day he laid eyes on Jaehyun's smile.
Have my everything, anything you need , he thinks with his whole heart. And now that I've given up everything...take something from him, too. Take away his pain. Please.
The shudder this time feels like a farewell. Taeyong hears Jaehyun's protests fade into absolute silence. And for all he's been told his whole life about feeling too much, being too much...Taeyong isn't much of anything at all.
It feels as though he's floating in some endless void, drifting along uncharted shores with no sense of direction. Maybe it's peaceful, in a way. It's certainly better than the screaming, the jeering, the broken promises that are still seared into Taeyong's memories. But how can he be content with this when his heart is still fixated on sunsets and summer nights and Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jae━
All at once, a glow fills Taeyong's body. Hands cupping his face anchor him back to reality, lips pressed against his own with a warmth he's never known. Something in Taeyong's chest slides into place.
An exhale sounds from inches in front of him, ruffling his bangs with a hitched breath. He hears it.
"Why didn't you listen to me?" Jaehyun is whispering, hands never leaving Taeyong's face.
Taeyong reaches out for him, but his hands meet empty air, bumping against the top of Jaehyun's head.
"Taeyong?"" Jaehyun asks. He sounds like he's been crying. "It's okay, I've got you. I know you can't hear this, but...I'm still here."
What is this? What's going on? Taeyong shouldn't be hearing those words; he should be back on that uncharted shore.
A faint white light appears behind his eyelids, and slowly Taeyong's vision dissolves into colors and hazy shapes that sharpen into the familiar lines of Jaehyun's face. His face...the burns and shrapnel are gone. Taeyong hasn't gone entirely unanswered. But that still doesn't explain why he can see that truth, why━
Their eyes meet. Jaehyun must sense something has changed, because he asks softly, "Can you...?"
Taeyong gets exactly one nod in before he starts to break down, weeping into his hands before Jaehyun gathers him in a tight embrace. That glow from earlier is back, that impossible warmth. And Taeyong doesn't mind so much this time when he openly cries into the fabric of the other's ruined jacket. These tears are ones of joy, of understanding.
Because Taeyong thinks he does understand the miracle that had taken place tonight. Who among the others, he thinks as Jaehyun's hands tangle in his hair, had ever given him something in return? Who among the others had stayed and tried to understand?
Who among the others had loved him?
"I love you," Jaehyun answers for him. "I'm an idiot for not telling you until I almost lost you, for making you think it was all just for fun, but...god, Taeyong, somewhere along the line you became my whole world."
Stop making me cry, Taeyong's half-hearted punch says, but the kiss after that screams I love you, too .
They must look like a pair of fools, clinging to each other by their bags of upturned produce. But what does it matter? What does any of the rest of the world matter when Taeyong has finally found a place where he belongs?
V.
Exactly one year later, which for all intents and purposes is the one-year anniversary of their love story (Jaehyun insists it's earlier, but Taeyong flatly signs a " You pulled the friends-with-benefits card " and the argument is lost), Taeyong is in the kitchen cooking up what he hopes is a spectacular dinner.
Jaehyun would normally be right beside him pitching in, their new residence finally large enough to have two people in the kitchen, but work has kept him cooped upstairs for most of the day. It's times like these that Taeyong is especially appreciative of the flexible hours that come with his own freelance songwriting. Even if it does mean he's in charge of dinner more often than not, Jaehyun has taught him enough recipes for his lack of taste testing to be a non-issue. Taeyong has it under control.
Or so he thought. The vegetables in the frying pan suddenly erupt with a tall flame, ripping a yelp from Taeyong's mouth before he moves them off the heat and extinguishes━
Wait.
Taeyong's hand moves to rest against his throat. Surely he's imagining things, his mind filling in gaps to the point it confused itself with reality.
Very quietly, very gingerly, he tries, "Lee Taeyong... oh ."
His voice is deeper than he remembers, not quite as thin, but it's there. Taeyong can feel his hands shaking, heartbeat accelerating to the point he feels light-headed.
It's still vivid in his memory, that day exactly a year ago from now. He remembers the sense of abandon when he thought he was giving it all up, the sense of wonder when he didn't have to, after all. Are his other missing pieces finally coming back to him? Is his body finally healing, reversing the damage from within this haven of trust and love from━?
"JAEHYUN!" Taeyong shouts.
There's a loud crash from upstairs, before quick feet are flying down the stairs. And eyes full of fire, baseball bat ready to swing, Jaehyun bursts in with a loud "WHO THE HELL━? Wait. Taeyong?"
Taeyong takes a slow, deep breath. "Hi, Jaehyun."
The bat clatters to the ground, forgotten, and the breath is knocked from Taeyong's lungs when Jaehyun pulls him close.
"Oh my god," Jaehyun gets out, sounding just as shocked. "Just now? How?"
"I have no idea. Jaehyun...I haven't spoken since I was sixteen ."
Taeyong's voice cracks on the last note, bottom lip trembling, and Jaehyun pulls back to see his face.
"Hey, no tears, okay? This is a happy moment! We need confetti, music loud enough for noise complaints, everything.”
"Easy for you to say when━ oh." The waterworks start despite Taeyong's best efforts.
"What? Is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?"
"No, it's not that." Taeyong hiccups. "Our dinner...it smells delicious."
Jaehyun insists, then, on holding onto Taeyong's hands as he dances and bounces them around the room in a congratulatory serenade, making Taeyong laugh through his tears. He thinks he could implode from the rush of emotion he's feeling.
A familiar ringtone interrupts their celebration, bringing the pair to a sudden halt. Jaehyun fishes his phone out of his pocket and groans when he reads the display.
"Shit. Boss. Give me a second."
He answers the call, though he still keeps Taeyong's hand in one of his. "Hello, ma'am?" Taeyong hears him say. "Sorry to interrupt, but I actually need to buy a cake for my boyfriend right now. Yes, completely serious, ma'am. Thank you. Have a good evening."
The call ends, and Jaehyun catches sight of the dumbfounded expression on Taeyong's face.
"What?" he asks, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. "You really think your first real meal in years is going to be my B-grade pasta recipe? We're buying you a double-tier fudge monstrosity and that's that."
Taeyong sends him a frown. "Jaehyun...you're doing it again."
"Doing what?" The other man sounds genuinely confused.
"Making me fall more in love with you."
An undignified snort flares Jaehyun's nostrils before he pulls Taeyong in for a kiss. Taeyong can taste him this time, lose himself to the sensation. And when Jaehyun whispers a grinning "You'll be the death of me," he can't wipe the answering smile off his face.
Forget that talk about 'too much'. Taeyong wants to feel it all, be it all. If opening himself up to the lowest lows will bring him these highest highs, he'll take that plunge with arms wide open. He'll be reckless, he'll be compassionate, he'll be everything his heart desires. And at the end of the day, he'll be loved all the same.
This is what it feels like to belong.