Chapter Text
The problem for Taehyung has always been wanting .
Wanting more than a family built on a foundation of polite disinterest and busy schedules.
Wanting more than a life trapped in a small town and the role his birth was created to fulfill.
Wanting more than a man who could barely look away from his phone to notice the aching loneliness in his partner.
He feels like the word should be written into the marrow of his bones, pouring out of him each time he dares to speak. It should seep from his pores like sickly sweat and impossible hopes.
Then, at least, he could watch it bleed out of him and know that it wouldn’t return with each new inhale and stubborn beat of his heart. It could be lanced with the bitterness of reality’s brutal, twisting blade and be forgotten aside from the scars forming a constellation across his chest. He could close his eyes and fill his head with the steady pulse of the city and a practical, safe future inside its walls.
The problem for him, he thinks as he watches two men smile at each other with their hearts in their eyes, is that no amount of wanting can make it a reality.
Present Day:
Cities are overwhelming.
Between the crowds and the noise and the smells, it’s all Taehyung can do to keep himself from turning around and retreating to the safety of the bus he’d just left. The only thing that keeps him from going back to the sleepy town he’d abandoned was the thought of the silent judgement on his parents’ face.
We told you, that look would say. You should never have tried to leave.
To avoid that look alone, he would probably walk across hot coals. Stepping into rush hour in Seoul is a far easier task.
Ahead of him, the sky peeks out in shades of grey and mottled blue between the towering edge of skyscrapers. Taehyung follows them with hungry eyes, tracing over the reminders that he’s done it. He’s escaped to the relative freedom of the open world.
It’s been years of saving every scrap of change and wages left behind by the two jobs he’s maintained since high school. Between his jobs and his parent’s shop, every moment of every day has been focused on this day. This moment where he could practically reach out and touch the possibilities waiting for him. All he had to do was step forward.
He follows the movement of the busy crowd up the steps and outside the bus station with his meager suitcase and backpack as his only anchor. Thankfully, no one seems bothered by his wide eyes and staring aside from making subtle sounds of complaint if he slows down the flow of traffic. Horns cut through the chattering and laughter of the people around him as they made their way toward the family or friends waiting for them.
Thinking back on the carefully studied list he’d made using the computers at his highschool library, Taehyung turned right and began to move in the direction of the hostel he planned to stay at as long as it would take to find more permanent lodging. Each step seemed to erase the weight of his nerves and he breathed past the smell of exhaust to the hope and excitement lingering beneath.
He’d made it out when no one had ever believed he would. He’d escaped . He’d--
Someone slams into his side and he makes a startled noise, falling back a step.
A moment later, he feels the strap of his bag being yanked out of his hand.
“H-- hey !” Tae shouts.
A younger man in a nondescript hoodie sprints through the crowd without looking back, Taehyung’s backpack--and all of his savings--in one hand.
Without thinking, he rushes after them, jerking his suitcase along after him. It rattles and clanks behind him, spinning awkwardly back and forth from one set of wheels to the next. He has to force his way through the crowds of people on the street, shouting apologies between panting breaths.
All he can think about is the money he’d withdrawn that morning and tucked into one of the inner pockets of his backpack that morning. It represented years of scraping by in hand-me-down clothes and sneakers with holes in the soles. All the hours he’d spent working terrible jobs to save up for the moment he could get away from his tiny, black-hole of a town.
Only to lose it in the first moment.
Taehyung pours on as much speed as he can while his eyes remain fixed on the black hoodie of the thief running away with everything he needs to begin again. A man in a business suit bumps bodily into him and he stumbles, nearly losing his feet before he can manage to get his balance back. He ignores the sounds of displeasure because he can’t fill his head with anything but the sound of his pounding heart and the rhythm of his feet against the pavement.
“Stop!” he shouts again. Desperate. “Stop him!”
He races out across a busy street to the tune of car horns and someone shouting for him to stop but he’s finally gaining on the thief. He’s finally--
Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and yank him backwards as a bus passes by only inches away from him.
Taehyung hits the pavement and the softer sensation of another person’s body and rolls bodily with the momentum of his earlier mad dash. His head snaps back against the curb with jarring force. He feels the fabric of his jeans rip along with the skin of his knees scrape along the hard concrete. For a moment, he can’t do anything but stare up at the sky fighting the shock and lingering adrenaline in his system.
“Are you okay?” A deep voice asks nearby.
The question shakes the last of his shock away and he sits up fast enough to make his head spin, searching the growing crowd for any sign of the thief.
“Woah, easy. I think you hit your--”
“Did you see where he went?” Tae cuts in breathlessly, dread building like a hurricane in his throat. Something drips down the side of his cheek and onto his his neck.
“Who?”
The confusion in the man’s voice is enough to make Taehyung look back at whoever had just saved his life and lost his chance of a future all at once.
He finds himself breathless again.
Crouched next to him is one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen. His eyes drift over soft brown eyes furrowed in concern and hair that appears artfully tousled despite the fact that they just rolled across the ground. Shoulders broad enough to block out the rest of the crowd shift with the muscles lurking beneath his soft white shirt and charcoal colored cardigan and Tae feels his eyes trail helplessly over long, jean encased legs.
Thankfully, the stranger must take his silence for a sign of injury because he leans closer. His hand starts to raise toward Tae’s face, but pauses midway. “I think you might have hit your head. We should get you to the hospital.”
The thought of a medical bill is enough to have him shaking his head hard enough to make his vision tilt dangerously. Which, maybe he wasn’t wrong about needing a hospital.
“I can’t,” Taehyung manages, fighting through the embarrassment and dizziness. “I—he robbed me.”
Immediately, the concern that colored the man’s features in softness was replaced with a fierce expression. Honey brown eyes shift away from him and he can’t avoid the soft sigh of relief at the chance to get himself under control.
“Did you get a good look at him?”
Tae shakes his head. “No. I was distracted.”
My son the dreamer, his father’s voice echoes in his mind from the memory of one of their many fights. When are you going to open your eyes to the real world?
The thought of what his parents would say about this makes him clench his jaw and force his shaking legs underneath him. His knees buckle at the weight and he’s only saved from face planting by a strong arm wrapping around his waist. He gets a lungful of cinnamon and a spicy cologne before he’s looking into eyes that flash amber in the sunlight.
“Woah, easy there,” the stranger says, seemingly unbothered by the way Tae is practically sagging against him. “You might have a concussion. Do you have someone you can call?”
Cheeks burning, Tae looks away and shakes his head. He tries to gather his stubbornness like a shield. “I just moved here. I’ll figure something out--don’t worry about it.”
The stranger considers him for another moment. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“I was going to a hostel until I could get an apartment.”
He doesn’t add that all the money he plans to use for the room has disappeared with the thief. Without it, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up on the street as soon as night falls. The thought makes dread curl in his stomach even as he tries to gather his determination. He’ll just have to find a job faster than he’d planned. He’s a hard worker, he can--
“Come on then,” the man says in that husky rumble.
The stranger keeps his arm looped around Tae’s hips to continue supporting his weight while they get to their feet. Taehyung feels like the earth is shifting like a rocking boat beneath his feet with each step. He tells himself that that’s why he continues to lean heavily against the other man.
“Where…?” he manages as he’s led in the opposite direction of where the thief had disappeared to. His bag is gently tugged free from his grasp so he no longer has to tug it along behind him.
“There’s a coffeeshop up ahead,” the man explains, “We can get you cleaned up and see if you need to go to the hospital.”
“I can’t--”
His protest dies out with another wave of nausea and dizziness. There’s a roaring in his ears that drowns out the sound of the stranger’s voice for a few moments.
“--fine. You can’t go out like this. Someone needs to watch out for you.”
“...don’t even know me…”
A soft huff of laughter. “What’s your name then?”
He considers the warnings he’s heard all through his childhood about giving away such information, but can’t seem to muster up the energy for suspicion. Besides, the only money he might have had to steal was long gone by now.
“Kim Taehyung,” he says as they cross the streets toward a shop nearly overgrown with ivy and crawling vines. A sign reading ‘Heart and Seoul’ hangs over the entrance’, “And you?”
“Kim Namjoon. This is it.”
Tae winces a little as they awkwardly hobble through the door and are faced with a room full of people looking up at the sound. The majority of the crowd looks to be women of varying ages seated at bistro tables or waiting in line for their orders. The air is sweet with the scent of fresh tea, overlapping pleasantly with the more bitter coffee beans.
“Hello and wel--Namjoon?” They look up in time to see someone move around the edge of the counter and hurry over. “What happened?”
Namjoon leads Tae in the direction of a door leading towards a kitchen, continuing to brace him. “He nearly got hit by a bus,” he says quickly, “but he got banged up a bit when I pushed him out of the way.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit.”
Tae closes his eyes against the painful brightness of the white kitchen walls and stainless steel appliances. The space has the militant order that he remembers from his years of bussing tables while he was in high school. Namjoon settles him onto a chair set against the wall and waits with his hand against Tae’s shoulder until he’s sure he won’t topple over.
“Got it!” They both look up as the door swings open and the man from before returns.
There’s a soft flush on the smooth skin of the man’s cheeks that matches the bright intelligence in his dark eyes. His hair is a beautiful mixture of purples and pink, shifting like the edges of dusk and framing a face that looks like it was ripped from the covers of a romance book. He winks at Tae when he catches him looking at him, but settles in front of him with a more clinical focus as he opens the first aid kit.
“I’m Kim Seokjin, the most handsome barista and shop owner in Seoul. You can call me Jin though,” he says with a confident smile.
Tae blinks at him like a deer caught in a headlight and watches him rip open an alcohol wipe to begin dabbing at the cut on Taehyung’s forehead. He winces at the sting a bit, but doesn’t protest the unexpected medical treatment. Already his body reminds him just how banged up he really is, throbbing irritably with every beat of his heart.
“Do you think he has a concussion?” Namjoon says.
Jin shakes his head, eyes moving back and forth as he studies Tae’s face. “His pupils aren’t dilated. I think he’s alright--just a bad tumble.”
“That’s good news at least.”
“Why didn’t you call for an ambulance?” Jin asks Namjoon with a sharp look that’s too complicated for his addled head to interpret.
“He said he didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“He might have a concussion.”
“ He is just fine,” Taehyung interrupts irritably. The effect of his bad temper is somewhat lost with the way he can’t manage to sit upright. “As soon as I catch my breath, I’ll get out of here.”
“Easy, sweetheart,” Jin croons and Tae tries not to think about the part of himself that wants to lean forward to soak up more of the easy affection in his voice. “There’s no rush.”
“Really, I’m alright. I’ve had worse--”
“Just because you’ve had worse doesn’t mean you should.” Tae ducks his head to avoid the look in Jin’s eyes, unsettled by the understanding there. Jin must take pity on him because he doesn’t press.
Namjoon shifts next to the two of them, tossing the trash produced by Jin’s efforts to clean and wrap Taehyung’s injuries. “You should probably make a police report.”
Tae makes a derisive noise. “Even I know that’s a long shot. He’s probably already tossed all my things and pawned the rest.”
He’ll have to hope he can convince his parents to send him enough money to buy a bus ticket back home. That, or try to find a way to survive long enough to get a job and money to rent a place. Even he knows it would take time to gather what he’d need for a down payment and the first month’s rent. Once he manages that, he’ll be lucky to afford bedding to sleep on the floor.
There’s a few moments of silence as Tae’s wounds are carefully tended to and the two strangers fuss silently over each. They don’t comment on his silence when his thoughts continue to spiral with each painful throb of his heart. He has to fight to keep his eyes open as the exhaustion and adrenaline crash sap what’s left of his strength. He wants to curl up inside this warm, sweetly scented space and forget that this day ever happened. Experience tells him that this sort of comfort never lasts.
Jin reaches out and touches Tae’s hand where it’s curled up on his thigh, gently turning it over to run a finger over the faint silver of a faint smattering of scars. “I recognize these,” he muses, “Either you’re a terrible cook or you’ve worked in food prep.” He twisted his own wrist to display the same pattern. “I’ve got a few of my own.”
“I worked at a restaurant in my hometown,” Tae agrees warily, “Why?”
Namjoon and Jin exchange a look that has a myriad of hidden meanings before the barista looks back at him. “Do you know how to bus tables or man a till?”
“Yes,” he answers again, frowning.
“Excellent,” Jin replies cheerfully as he stands upright. “It’s settled then.”
Tae frowns, looking between them. “What are you talking about?”
“You can work here--my other worker just quit to run off with his boyfriend. You’ll be saving me from weeks of overtime work while I find and train a replacement.”
“I’m not a charity case.” His frown deepens into a scowl, shame prickling beneath his skin.
Namjoon starts to protest, but Jin only meets Taehyung’s gaze steadily. “Did I say I’d be charitable? You’re looking at dealing with obnoxious customers all day long to save me from having to deal with them. Besides, I have a reputation for having handsome workers at the front counter--you’ll be perfect for that.”
Taehyung flushes, surprised by the directness of Jin’s statement, but is saved by Namjoon clearing his throat pointedly. Jin gives him an unrepentant grin.
“I--” Tae hesitates. Even with a job, he won’t be making enough to pay for housing for a few months. And that’s only going to work if he only eats ramen once a day until then. The smarter thing to do would be to return to the relative safety of his parents home and lick his wounds in peace.
“I have expectations for my staff, of course,” Jin continues as though Tae has already agreed. “You’ll have to be on standby at all hours. Do you have somewhere nearby to stay?”
“No.”
“Even better--you’ll stay in Chanyeul’s former apartment.”
Without waiting to see if Taehyung was doing anything but gaping up at him, Jin walks back through the door leading to the cafe to the sounds of feminine gasps of delight. Namjoon shakes his head and lets out a huff of a laugh.
“You’ll get used to him...eventually,” he tells Tae.
“Is he always like that?”
“Usually he’s worse.” Namjoon grins at him before reaching out a hand to pull him to his feet. Once Taehyung is standing, he grabs the handle of his bedraggled suitcase and carries it in one hand. “Come on, the apartment is above the cafe. Not much of a commute.”
There’s a myriad of emotions fighting for control in Taehyung’s mind, but he decides to settle on remaining bemused. This day has cycled far beyond his usual tolerance for drama and he isn’t sure he’ll be able to manage another unexpected twist. He can’t decide if Namjoon and Jin are leading him back to murder him or if they’re both in danger of falling victim to every person with a sob story.
Honestly, how is this his life? He thinks as he follows Namjoon up the stairs. This seems like the plotline of some k-drama or a spicy fanfiction. Nothing like this ever happened in real life without consequences.
He keeps this in mind as they make their way up to a simple doorway that Namjoon opens with a small flourish. Inside is a simple open concept apartment with a small kitchenette and comfortable looking sofa across from an older tv mounted on the wall. He can see a bathroom leading through one of the other doors in the room so it’s easy to guess that the other door leads to the bedroom.
“Jin has the only other key, but he’ll bring it up at the end of his shift,” Namjoon says. “There should be fresh sheets in the closet in the bedroom. Can’t say there will be groceries in the fridge, but I doubt Jin will let you go hungry when he’s expecting you to start work soon.”
“What time does the cafe open?”
“Doors open at six, but Jin will be in the kitchens by four to start cooking the day’s menu. The second shift steps in around two in the afternoon and they stay until eight. I hope you don’t mind getting up early.”
Tae is willing to tolerate a great deal of discomfort if it means that he could still have a chance at the life he’d fought so hard for. “I don’t mind. I’ve worked early shifts before.”
“How’s your head?”
“Nothing a few aspirin couldn’t fix,” he says easily, resisting the urge to fidget with the bandage on his forehead. As he speaks, he continues to scan the simple apartment.
There’s dust in the air and the stuffy scent that comes from disuse, but Taehyung finds himself staring at a space that can be truly his for the first time in his life. The potential of this moment hangs like the flickers of lightning waiting for him to dare to reach out and touch it. Play it safe or risk it all, he thinks as he slowly walks through the space before turning back to face Namjoon waiting by the door.
Namjoon gives him a soft smile, eyes far too knowing. “Well? What do you think?”
Are you going to stay?
Taehyung stares at him for a moment longer before slowly nodding. “It’ll do.”
I’ll stay.