𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗺.

⠀ to

there had been times in the past meetings where taehyung and jeongguk would lay side by side and simply allow the slow progression of time to befriend their heavy hearts for a few moments. perhaps they'd find their fingers laced together, knuckles blushing and wrists atop a soft, grassy pillow.

no words were necessary back then, because their minds and consciences were clear of woe and they'd agreed never to speak of the time as a limiting factor to what was fast becoming a beautiful romance. therefore, silence was something welcomed with open arms, and ears learned to adapt to listen for things unspoken; find meanings in the ether as it pulls out strings of stars like tightrope for the clouds to traverse.

nowadays, whenever taehyung falls silent, jeongguk panics.

it always begins in his lungs— this sick, flooding feeling. it fills them up with a liquid thicker than treacle which pushes itself into every last crack and crevice and forms whirlpools and tidal waves strong enough to swim up into his throat (that which tries its hardest, god bless, to close up on itself to stop the flood and suffocate the boy of all words that would be used to scream his voice hoarse should the poor village boy lose his heart) and once he's at that stage, he finds himself saying absolutely anything to evoke a response to soothe his anxieties.

taehyung's caught on by now.

he notices the way jeongguk's breathing doesn't behave as it used to. it's stiff and it's automated to make as little noise as possible. all, of course, to make sure that taehyung's breathing takes the main stage.

now, the only silence they can comfortably share is that which follows when taehyung holds jeongguk's hand and stares him in the eye; following the words 'we're going to make it up the willow tree together. there's still time.' even when the words catch themselves on a breath that passes too quick.

time may never have been on their side, but never before had it felt so cruel.

kim taehyung has always been a dreamer, however.

after seeing his childhood fantasies through and ending up here today, he knows that there's nothing he can't accomplish. he is going to make it to the top of the willow tree with jeongguk. he will, because he has to. because he believes it. and, god knows, when taehyung believes in something, nothing can get in his way.

that's the one thing, jeongguk notices, that hasn't faded from taehyung's eyes. that belief. that naivety. that which he wishes he possessed himself. and he thinks that the fact that it's all that remains of the boys he'd come to know on that fateful night makes it much worse that he doesn't trust it.

but he doesn't.

he can't.

not when he had to find taehyung clinging to a nearby tree on his way here, a migraine so loud that jeongguk could feel electricity when he scooped the boy up into his arms and carried him up the hill, galaxies blooming for them only to be ignored, because all one can think about is the other, no time to look up at the sky.

"it doesn't hurt anymore, you know? i just feel tired," taehyung catches jeongguk staring at him with those eyes again and he manages that signature smile intended to help wounds that don't exist yet heal, because he won't be there to do so when they come to be.

"you'd say that regardless, taehyung," jeongguk whispers, shoulders slumping in regret for having to darken the mood of a time that should be so joyous. it was joyous. it was.

"and you'd worry regardless, jeongguk."

that cocky sort of phrase would once be enough to make jeongguk let go of his pout and fall into a conversation. one that travelled the same distance as the cosmos that came to look upon this display of a universe set into motion in the space of the glade, here between these two hearts.