His Bodyguard || K.TH.

25. Drink With Friends

You take your coat off the rack, clearing your throat. "The roof's done. At least for now. Call me if there's any leakage or issues with it."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." He lingers by the doorway, back hunched from decades of hard work. "There's no need to worry."

"Alright. Then, I should get going now." Your hands stuff themselves in your pockets. "They're waiting for me outside, so..."

"Go ahead."

You turn around, facing the surface of the door. But before you open it, you swivel on your feet, question on the tip of your tongue. "Have you been eating well?"

"I have." Your dad nods. "You don't need to be concerned for me. I know how to take care of myself."

"Right. It- uh... seems kind of cold in here, so if you need me to mess with the thermostat or fix any heating issue, you can call me."

"I'll make a note of that."

You hesitate. For some reason, there's something stopping you from walking straight out the door like you should, something on the tip of the tongue that you want to spill out. You're held back and you look at your father once more, mustering the courage you don't have. 

"Let me come again. I'd like to visit again, if that's okay with you."

"You can do whatever you want," he deadpans, but then his voice warms, even just by a little. "I'll always welcome you."

You're not used to physical affection. It's still difficult to get used to how Taehyung throws his arm around your shoulder, how he holds your hand or cuddles when you're trying to watch TV. 

You hate being emotionally vulnerable. It feels like a weakness even though it isn't. And most of all, you struggle to show your dad that you care.

But you hope he can feel it, even if you don't say it out loud.

– 

"Are we going to go eat anywhere?" Jimin strolls down the neighborhood, forgetting about his duty of guarding and protecting the person beside you. "I'm starving."

"I know a good sushi place a block away," Seokjin notes to the other man's glee.

"Hey..." Taehyung nudges you, speaking in a murmur to keep the conversation private. "Is everything alright?"

"Y-yeah." You take a sigh of relief, shoulder losing their tension. You meet his eyes. "Everything's great."

He smiles softly. "I'm glad."

You did it. It hits you now as you walk away. You did it without anyone's help and it wasn't bad. It wasn't scary or frightening or terrible. He never slammed the door in your face or looked at you in disdain and disappointment. It was normal. Your dad was welcoming.

–

The next time you visit is a week later. And strangely enough, the fridge isn't empty upon your arrival. Rather, there's fresh ingredients on shelves and plastic bags. He insists on cooking dinner as a way to thank you for fixing the roof or as he says 'returning the favor'. 

But you wonder how long it took him to think of this, to learn and memorize a recipe and act nonchalantly like it came from the top of his head. You wonder how long he's been waiting for you to come back, what he would've done if the ingredients had gone stale.

He's never cooked before and you watch him mumble to himself helplessly until you help chop the carrots. For the first time there's a tight feeling in your chest– an emotion you're not quite sure of but that you've felt before.