1958
LondonFalling in love was mythic.
Over exaggerated, romanticized, far-fetched, idealistic. Falling in love was anything but realistic. It was fairytales he read and simplified shortened stories he heard as a child. It was the glass wall everyone puts up in front of their ever-lasting relationship to make it perfect.
Falling in love was anything but perfect.
At least to Jeongguk, anyway.
He'd grown up around a family falling apart like crumbles of a cheaply painted wall. His mother despised her husband, who loathed his wife. They'd been together for years and years. Yet, unhappy. Unsatisfied. Un-perfect. Why were they still together? Jeongguk would never know, for he'd never ask. He'd just understood simply; Love never lasts.
"Oh he's quiet," Jeongguk heard. "Doesn't talk much. Reads a lot. He's at work a lot, rarely ever at home."
Jeongguk scoffed to himself, standing by the doorway. What was so reprehensible about being quiet? He's heard it since he was a child; you talk too little, open your mouth a bit more, stop being such a bore. Plus, reading is the one escape he has from everything that surrounds him. And his work... his work keeps him busy. He just wants to be kept busy. From- from everything around him. His own self, perhaps.
"I think it's rather charming, really! Never curses, always polite. Plus, he's so intelligent. From all those books he reads. Works at a law firm. The one by the downtown, yeah." Jeongguk heard further, and that made his shoulders relax a little. So he's not... the worst.
Jeongguk was stood by the entrance of the house he was in. Whose house, he's unsure. In fact, for the past few weeks, Jeongguk had been rather unsure. Moved to London a month ago. Barely settled into a new home, and now he'd been dragged into their neighbor's house. Loud chatter came from the living room, while Jeongguk looked around- taking in the modern aesthetic of the home. It was rather large, which made Jeongguk wonder about the number of people residing there.
The rain was pouring heavily outside. London, of course. It was night time, around 8 pm. Jeongguk saw a vinyl sitting on a little brown end table pressed against the corner of the wall, jutting out with its wooden refinery. Jeongguk placed his fingertips gently against the onyx disk sitting silently on the spinner, and then-
"It's Little Richard," A voice came, deep, and Jeongguk turned around in an instant, a chill running down his spine which startled him. "Quite impressive, innit?" Continued; referring to the vinyl on the record player.
Jeongguk's eyes were big for a few seconds, and it's like he forgot how to make speech with the vocal cords in his mouth. Talk. Jeongguk forgot how to talk. The man stood in front of him was tall. Presumably not much taller than Jeongguk, but seemed a lot bigger. Broader. Had golden hair falling on his face, slightly long, tufts of it creeping onto the back of his neck. He wore a bright red shirt, and pants.
"Well," The man spoke articulately, looking at Jeongguk, who still stood there, dumbfounded. "You lost or something?"
"No, sir," Jeongguk said, and sir?? Why did he say sir?? This man couldn't be much older than he was- Jeongguk cursed at his inner subconscious for letting that out. Dominant male authorities always scared him for reasons unknown.
A little smirk fell onto the man's lips, and Jeongguk couldn't help but feel himself look at how the corner of his lips turned up at the slightest and- Jeongguk felt flustered. "I-I'll just head back to the- um- living room now." Jeongguk let out, words muddling up a bit, and the man just nodded, the amused grin still on his face.
YOU ARE READING
somebody to love (taekook)
Ficción históricaFalling in love with another man during the 1950s was never something Taehyung or Jeongguk envisioned. Especially not when they were both married and had beautiful wives. Or, The story of two lovers who were never meant for each other, but destiny f...