Fire On Fire [TK]

(4) All we know

"All we know is that we don't know
How it's gonna be
Please, brother, let it be
Life on the other hand
Won't make you understand
We're all part of a master plan"

— Masterplan, Oasis

❀

— Jk —

Jeongguk lounged on one of the stools in the corner to catch a break, letting his body sink into its flimsy metal frame like it might hold him together. Every bone in him ached with that deep, hollow soreness that lingered after hours of movement while he fantasised rather seriously about never getting up again. If he could just melt into this seat and dissolve into the floor, he might be content. Across the room, their instructor was outlining the remaining choreography to the others, voice crisp and measured, hands slicing through the air in precise counts. Jeongguk let the words wash over him without really listening.

November's thin wintery breath had already clouded the skies in a dull, washed-out grey, a silvery frost feathering across the glass panes, obscuring summer's bright memory like a fading photograph, it's warmth gradually slipping further into memory. It had been three months since the night he had manically run behind the elder after seeing him take off. At the time, he had been convinced that something had been lurking in the darkness. A monster. Or worse, an alien, like the ones in the low-budget horror movies he sometimes watched late at night. In his mind, Taehyung had seen it first and bolted, leaving Jeongguk with no choice but to sprint after him in pure, blind panic. Looking back, it was ridiculous.

Hilarious, even.

And a little terrifying.

Still, accident or not, that night had done something strange to Jeongguk. It had chipped away, just slightly, at the wary distance he kept from the elder. Running for your life beside someone had a way of binding you together in an embarrassing, inexplicable kind of solidarity. Taehyung was two years older than him, yet often felt younger. He talked constantly—nonsense more often than not—reminding Jeongguk of a puffy, chattering bird, with his soft brown hair and full cheeks, as if he were permanently stuck between boyish innocence and something dangerously charming. He was overly touchy, dramatically expressive, and unabashedly extra in everything he did.

But for all that, Jeongguk had come to realise something undeniable.

Objectively…Taehyung was beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that made people look twice, whether they wanted to or not. The kind that felt almost unfair, like a trick of genetics or some cosmic favour Jeongguk had not been privy to. And yet, as much as Jeongguk appreciated that beauty in a detached, almost artistic way, it was also irksome, because that beautiful face had a terrible habit of invading his personal space.

He had found Taehyung sitting on his bunk morning. Not that he had a problem with someone sitting on his bunk, but Jeongguk had been asleep, his dream evolving into an anxiety fuelled nightmare in which his legs got cut off and he couldn't run away from the zombies that were chasing him, his body helpless—only to snap open his eyes to find Kim Taehyung sitting on his bunk, perched there with his whole weight on his legs, playing temple run on his phone without a care in the world. No explanation, no apology, just Taehyung.

Sometimes it felt like ever since Jeongguk shared his ice-cream with him, the elder had taken a free pass for his entire existence. He dropped in like a spider, descending from the ceiling, popping up beside him at any given time with an endless stream of questions ranging from his hometown, to his school, and to his life, and when they ran out, he switched to mind-boggling facts of knowledge about the strangest things, which led Jeongguk to believe he was a reincarnated mad-scientist from the 18th century, trapped in the body of an idol trainee. And yet, despite the frustration of having his personal bubble constantly violated, Jeongguk found himself incapable of truly rejecting him.