Chapter Text
“I have a new assignment for you,” Taehyung’s boss says, which is a relief; he was sure he was getting fired. Not because he did anything necessarily wrong but because his boss is the type to fire people on a whim. They’re in his office with the door closed and the smell of cigarettes heavy in the air from the cig dangling between his middle and pointer finger.
“Oh,” Taehyung says dumbly as questions float around in his head. His boss never calls him into his office for an assignment, actually, Taehyung is usually allowed to free write.
“Some Korean family is hosting a fundraiser for some Unicef program,” his boss reveals dismissively with a wave of his hand; the smoke from the cigarette bends in the air with his movement. Taehyung makes a strange sound because he still does not know what he has to do with this. Without further explanation, his boss slides over two passes for said fundraiser.
“Okay,” Taehyung says slowly. “But I don’t write current events I write for the creative writing portion of the paper.” He’s only saying this because his boss isn’t the type of person to remember 1) his employees’ names and 2) their job titles.
It’s a small paper, with a tiny little section where Taehyung writes some short stories, the occasional poem or essay. The pay is decent and he gets to write about whatever he wants really but it’s not worth dealing with his boss.
“Listen, I figured the family is Korean, you’re Korean... Do I really have to say more?”
No, Taehyung wants to say, I already know you’re a bigot you don’t have to make it much more evident. “No, sir.”
“Good, I always knew you were a smart one. The event is tomorrow, the other ticket is for any date or a photographer you’d want to bring. I highly suggest a photographer. It’s open for reporters so… report. Be there early, the conference is at 9 am.”
Taehyung nods grabs the two passes and gets out of the damn office before he does something he’ll regret, like strangle his boss.
As he walks back to his desk he looks down at the pass in his hand. It has the Unicef logo in the middle with the words “Reporter” underneath and on top of that, it has the name Jeon Family Campaign in a smaller font. The family name doesn't really ring a bell, Taehyung doesn’t make it a habit to keep up with South Korea’s rich and famous.
He sighs when he gets to his cubicle, pulling up google and entering “Jeon Family Campaign”. What pops up immediately are articles about the event for tomorrow, upon further reading, he quickly learns that the family’s youngest, Jeon Jeongguk will be hosting the event on behalf of his family. The same article mentions the other stops Jeon Jeongguk made while in America and around the world. He’s visited schools, charity events, even an orphanage. He’s like a modern-day prince charming. And he looks it too, his hair a bit on the longer side and wavy, styled nicely to frame his face in a delicate way. For the most part, he’s always seen wearing a suit except when he’s with kids, then he’s dressed down a little more with comfortable looking trousers and a button-up.
The articles he finds are all praising him for his philanthropy but he also notices a few from two years ago, or recent articles citing an incident from before. It’s not even directly about him, but his older brother. THE JEON’S OLDEST SON SENT TO REHAB AFTER AN OVERDOSE the article reads. It makes Taehyung think most of these appearances could have been to cover up for the eldest son’s mistakes.
Interesting to say the least.
When Taehyung walks into Namjoon’s studio he can hear Jimin’s giggles and the sound of a shutter going off at an alarming speed.
“Just like that, sweetheart,” Namjoon drawls from behind the lens. “You’re a natural.”
“Oh, Joonie, stop it.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes because he knows Jimin loves it when Namjoon compliments him. He walks further into the studio and sees Jimin in the middle of an ethereal set with an impressive outfit. Namjoon is both balancing a light bouncing sheet and his camera, trying to get the perfect lighting.
Taehyung rolls his eyes, “You need help?”
Both Namjoon and Jimin look up at the sound of his voice.
“Taehyung! Perfect timing! Yes, hold this,” He hands over the white disk and positions it a certain way so that it redirects the light perfectly back at Jimin. “Perfect. Now don’t move!”
Taehyung stands there for half an hour as the shoot continues, Namjoon and Jimin are shamelessly flirting throughout the entire shoot. Once things are wrapped up Taehyung finally speaks.
“You want a job?” He asks Namjoon, already knowing the answer.
“No,” Namjoon responds without missing a beat. “I hate your boss and would rather not make material for his piece of shit newspaper… no offense, Tae. You know your articles are my favorite.”
“I’m aware,” Taehyung says flatly.
“What’s the job?” Jimin asks as he sits down on one of the lounge chairs in front of the large windows.
“A fundraiser for a Unicef program. It’s hosted by some family called the Jeon's—”
“The Jeon's?” Jimin practically screams.
Namjoon winces while Taehyung grimaces at the pitch of Jimin’s voice.
“Yes,” Taehyung confirms. “Their youngest son, Jeon Jeongguk is hosting?” He doesn’t know why he ends it like a question. He knows Jeongguk is hosting but Jimin is making him think maybe this Jeongguk guy is a bigger deal than he originally thought. “You know about them?”
“Of course I do! He’s the most eligible bachelor in South Korea!” Jimin explains, spreading his arms out wide as he says this. His tone insinuates that he thinks they’re idiots for not knowing this. “ Everyone wants him. Seriously, there’s barely any negative press about him. At most you’ll have someone say he looks unapproachable and is really quiet. But that’s, like, it.” Jimin stares at them as if expecting this information to awaken something inside of them. When they simply continue to stare at him blankly, Jimin goes on, this time more exasperated. “Seriously, guys, he’s, like, South Korea’s prince, basically! He has charities, fundraisers… he’s Jeon Jeongguk!”
“He sounds too perfect,” Namjoon says as he carefully puts his camera equipment away. “There has to be some kind of dirt on him.”
Jimin makes this face that says he knows something. “Well…” Taehyung and Namjoon lean forward in anticipation. “There was his brother…”
“What about him?” Namjoon presses. You’d think he was the one with the journaling degree.
“A few years ago news came out that Jeongguk found his older brother overdosed in his room. He was like 15 at the time, his brother was probably around 25?”
Taehyung deflates. This is why he isn’t a reporter. He can’t write about that; about someone’s worst day of their life. Especially not in a detached way. “That’s horrible,” Taehyung states unnecessarily.
“Yeah, shit,” Namjoon agrees. “I thought he’d have a secret kid or something, most rich people do. Not a traumatic life experience.”
Taehyung sighs before showing Namjoon his second pass. “So do you want the job or not?”
“Hell yeah,” he says and grabs the ticket. “Gotta see what this kid’s all about. He has Jimin all hard.”
Taehyung looks at Jimin and then down at the front of his pants. No tent.
“I don’t have a hard-on for him,” Jimin says with a roll of his eyes before they get a glint in them. “Jealousy does look good on you though. Hot.” He turns to Taehyung, “Can you leave? I want to suck my boyfriend’s dick.”
“Gladly,” Taehyung says promptly, already turning on his heel. “Goodbye, see you later tonight. And, Joon the press conference is at eight.”
“Why so early? Does the little prince have a bedtime or something?”
Taehyung hears Jimin smack Namjoon on the arm. Namjoon can come off so mature but in reality, he’s ridiculous.
“The event starts at eight in the morning but you’ll need to be there at least two hours earlier to prepare. Hence why your schedule ended so early today. We want you to be properly rested,” Seokjin says while looking down at his iPad to read out tomorrow’s schedule.
“Wow,” Jeongguk says monotonously from his bed. “A 22-year-old with a curfew. It’s like the older I get the stricter everything is.”
It’s only 10:30 now but when left to his own devices, Jeongguk can easily stay awake through the night. But he’s rarely ever left to his own devices.
Seokjin pauses what he’s doing and gives Jeongguk an analyzing look. It’s not like him to complain, usually, he does what he’s told with no ifs, buts or maybes. Seokjin opens his mouth as if to say something but seems to second guess himself and instead goes back to reading off the schedule.
Jeongguk isn’t listening when Seokjin recites the itinerary for the next day. He can’t bring himself to listen, he doesn’t have enough energy to focus. At most he varies between saying, “thank you” and “no thank you” when Seokjin paints out what gifts he’ll be receiving at each event.
“—They will be offering a free stay.”
“Thank you,” Jeongguk says emotionlessly, looking down at the crisp white sheets that are laid carefully over his torso.
“You will decline,” Seokjin says a little sharply.
“No thank you,” Jeongguk corrects himself monotonously.
If he were looking he’d see Seokjin nod approvingly before going back to reading off the list. As Seokjin drawls on and on Jeongguk feels pieces of himself start to chip away. “Thank you,” he mutters, no longer even paying attention to what Seokjin is saying at all. But he says it quietly enough that Seokjin doesn’t hear him—for the best, he was in the middle of a sentence. But Jeongguk doesn’t stop there.
“Thank you,” he says again. “No, thank you,” he goes on with barely a pause. “Thank you,” he says louder this time. “No thank you,” at an audible level. And then for a reason unfathomable to himself, he starts to yell. “Thank you! No thank you! Thank you—”
“Jeongguk!” Seokjin exclaims, looking at him in a way he never has before.
But Jeongguk doesn’t stop, he keeps yelling the same two phrases as he buries himself lower in the bed and then stuffs his face into a pillow.
“I’m tired of this! Of the schedules and the meetings and the, “how do you do’s’!” He grips the pillow hard in his fists before screaming into it with no words just screaming his heart out as his resolve leaves him entirely. He doesn’t hear Seokjin leave to get help, his body just collapses underneath himself. He’s exhausted in a way that transcends the physical. He’s tired of this, of everything.
The breakdown only lasts a while longer and once it’s over Jeongguk is in a haze of half asleep and half awake. He feels like he’s there but also not at all, like a gust of wind can just whisk him away and leave nothing behind, not even a hair.
It’s a little concerning that he wishes it would happen.
“He’s in hysterics,” Seokjin explains as he opens the door to his hotel room. Hoseok, the head of his security detail, and a doctor are behind him. The doctor raises a brow when he sees Jeongguk laying on his stomach, hugging a pillow with closed eyes.
“He looks to be sleeping,” the doctor says unnecessarily.
Seokjin sits down next to Jeongguk and rubs a warm hand down his back. “He was yelling right before I left.”
“Maybe he just needed to vent a little,” Hoseok says. Jeongguk has always liked him, he’s a bit scary and intimidating with his staff but overall a very nice person who has on more than one occasion accompanied Jeongguk outside without his parent’s knowledge for some peace and quiet. He’s kind and a great listener.
Jeongguk almost wants to make them think he’s sleeping so they can let him be. But he doesn’t want to make Seokjin look bad, he doesn’t deserve it. So, with closed eyes he croaks, “I’m awake.”
Seokjin’s hand pauses on his back until Jeongguk lets out a quiet whine causing him to continue his soothing motions.
The doctor steps forward and gently asks, “Can you sit up, sir?”
Jeongguk opens his eyes slowly, they meet Seokjin’s own concerned one’s first and he feels a pang of guilt ring through him for putting that expression on his friend’s face. Then his eyes flicker to the doctor who watches him more clinically and detached. Slowly, Jeongguk sits up and turns over onto his back, the fluffy pillows flattening under his weight.
The doctor’s cold hands press against his face, tilting it up to observe his complexion before placing the back of his hand on his forehead. “He’s a little pale, and running a bit warm”
Seokjin makes a concerned sound as the doctor gets a thermometer out of his bag. Jeongguk watches him as he sanitizes it and attaches a disposable plastic over the mouthpiece. He raises his tongue when the doctor brings the thermometer to his mouth and waits until it beeps.
Turning to Seokjin the doctor says, “His temperature is just a little high but he doesn’t have a fever.”
“Still, he was in hysterics,” Seokjin says quietly, sounding more concerned than anything.
The doctor turns back to Jeongguk. “How are you feeling?”
He doesn’t know what to say. He feels suffocated, he feels like he’ll crumble under all of their expectations, he feels small and insignificant despite all the attention he receives. And he’s tired. A tiredness that has been weighing down on his shoulders for years now.
“Sleepy,” Jeongguk settles for. “But I’m fine I swear I just—I’ll do what I have to do tomorrow and—” He sobs as he turns over and buries his head in the pillows. Just the idea of a tomorrow and having to continue on is too overwhelming for him. He wants time to stop for just a moment, let him catch up, let him rest and then he’ll be better.
“Jeonggukie,” Hoseok says worriedly. “Please calm down. It’ll be alright.”
“You see?” Seokjin asks the doctor quietly as his hand soothes down Jeongguk’s back once more. “He isn’t okay. He’s never acted like this.”
“Stress,” the doctor says. “It’s to be expected especially with how heavy his workload is. I’ll tell you what,” the doctor says, this time gently, to Jeongguk specifically. “A nice rest will make you feel better. Some rest and peace and quiet. I can help you.”
Sniffling, Jeongguk unburies his head and asks, “How?”
“I have some medicine, it will help you sleep. You’ll wake up and feel better tomorrow. Things are always better in the morning.”
Jeongguk doesn’t know how to tell them that the mere thought of tomorrow is enough to make him cry. That the exact issue is that there will be a tomorrow to have to go through.
“If you ask me the best medicine is a good night’s sleep,” The doctor continues soothingly as he takes out medicine, two large tablets with a name too complicated for Jeongguk to attempt to pronounce right now.
“Sleep,” Jeongguk says in a detached manner as he robotically takes the pills the doctor hands him and then puts them in his mouth, swallowing them dry. “Can I leave one of the lights on?”
“Of course,” the doctor says. “I think it’s good to do whatever you want for a little while.”
Doing whatever he wants sounds absolutely lovely, but unfortunately unrealistic. But he can dream for now. And maybe once he sleeps, he’ll dream of himself doing whatever he wants for an entire day. No cares in the world nor obligations.
“Thank you,” Jeongguk mumbles as he settles into his bed, snuggling into the covers.
Seokjin runs a comforting hand through Jeongguk’s hair as he wishes him a good night and allows him to rest.
Jeongguk thinks it must have been at least half an hour since he’s been left alone in his room to sleep. It must be. He’s not very tired though, and the sounds from outside can be heard even in his room. He hears music, the distant sound of neo-soul and that has him getting to his feet and walking over to the balcony to see what’s going on.
It turns out to be a few street performers but they’ve gathered around an impressive crowd to watch them play. And for a very stupid moment, Jeongguk wishes he were down there. To be a random person who simply stopped to watch a performance on the street.
And it’s only when he starts to consider it that he starts to think maybe the drugs are working a bit.
Rational Jeongguk wouldn’t even think of moving from the balcony. As a matter of fact, rational Jeongguk wouldn’t have even gone near the balcony, he would have ignored his desires altogether.
But Jeongguk now is already stumbling away from the balcony with clumsy, excited feet and going to his closet to change out of his boring pajamas.
It doesn’t take him very long to find himself something suitable. A plain button shirt in a creamy color and dark brown trousers with his favorite, warn in loafers. He wishes he could wear something more comfortable like his tracksuits. But he also wants to look nice. If he’s going to break the rules and escape for the night he wants to look nice. Presentable.
He makes sure to pocket his wallet, contemplates his phone but decides to leave it, he’s only going for a night stroll at best, it's not necessary. Now he focuses on the next part of his plan.
Getting ready isn’t the hard part. Escaping is.
His parents mean well but they’re overbearing in more ways than one. Their excessive use of security guards, for instance, is one of those ways. And currently said bodyguards are the only things standing between Jeongguk and a few hours of freedom.
Ever so quietly, he opens the door to his hotel room, making sure to make the least amount of sound possible. Hesitantly, he peeks his head out and looks into the hallway. It’s a private one, his family bought out the entire floor for him and the rest of the staff.
There’s only one guard and he’s sleeping on a cushioned chair. Jeongguk exhales before quietly stepping out of his room and into the hallway. With careful steps he makes his way to the staircase, too anxious that if he waits for the elevator he’ll get caught by a passing guard or even Hoseok and Seokjin.
Once the staircase door is closed quietly behind him, he runs.
Taehyung leaves the bar before the rest of his friends, reminding himself that he needs to get some rest before the press conference in the morning. He trusts Namjoon to be there too, even if Namjoon gets home at seven in the morning he’ll find a way to get to the event by eight. Before all else, Namjoon is trustworthy and a man of his word. So, Taehyung isn’t too worried about leaving him behind, even leaving him with his photographer’s pass.
A quick glance to his wristwatch states it’s a little past midnight now. Taehyung only had a beer because it was all he could force himself to have. He never developed the taste for beer and he probably never will. He usually never even finishes his own bottle, usually nursing it until one either Namjoon or Jimin decides to take mercy on him and down it themselves.
In an attempt to get rid of the unpleasant taste of beer from his mouth, Taehyung takes out his worn-out pack of Marlboro Light. He’s had the same pack for a while now, he’s been trying to quit but every once in a while he loses to his desire to take a pull.
Surprisingly, he finds a packet of matches in his coat and gratefully lights up the cigarette as he turns the corner. Despite being a weekday, the city is still alive with people, Taehyung expertly maneuvers around them before finding a vacant spot against some of the fencing at Union Square. Well, most vacant, if it weren’t for the man laying on the bench, mumbling in his sleep. Usually, he would ignore this, seeing drunk people passed out on benches is normal as are homeless people.
But upon further inspection, Taehyung can easily rule out this man being homeless. The clothes he’s wearing are simple enough but made of good material, he can tell just by looking at them. He also looks far too clean to be someone living on the street.
“So happy,” the man on the bench mumbles. “So sleepy.”
Yeah. He’s drunk. The slurring of his words and his sluggish movements confirm it. That and no person in their right mind would put their face directly on a public bench especially not in the city.
Taehyung takes a pull of his cigarette as he stares at the man bemusedly. Part of him wants to intervene but the larger part is prepared to mind his business and walk away.
“How do you do?” The man asks just as Taehyung begins to turn his back to the stranger and walk away.
He’s almost positive the question is directed at him but when he turns, the man’s eyes aren’t even open. But he is about to roll right off the bench and Taehyung’s instincts kick in to catch him before he falls.
“Hey, watch out,” he exclaims as he tries to keep the man on the bench. He’s surprisingly heavy given how delicate he looks. “Wake up!”
Humming the man sighs out when Taehyung rolls him back onto the bench, “Thank you.” But otherwise seems to have no intention of waking.
“Wake up,” Taehyung sighs as he questions what he ever did to deserve this. He needs to get home. And it’s only a few blocks from here.
“No thank you,” the man sighs. “You may sit,” the man says, eyes still closed as one of his hands gestures to the rest of the bench with a dismissive wave.
“Well thank you, your highness,” Taehyung says with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “I think you ought to get up. People who can’t handle their liquor shouldn’t drink. You never know what someone could do to you. They could dump your body in a river for all you know.”
The man suddenly sits up, very unsteadily, and looks at Taehyung with heavily lidded eyes as he sways and recites, “ A man takes his sadness down the river and throws it in the river but then he’s still left with the river. ’ Do you know who wrote that?” The man asks him.
“Richard Siken,” Taehyung answers without a beat, watching as the stranger continues to dangerously sway. He will admit he’s impressed this man can recite a line of poetry while intoxicated.
“Yes. Siken. I love him,” and the man says and then slumps against Taehyung, his head now snug on his shoulder.
“Shit,” Taehyung curses as the man’s breathing evens out again and he’s peacefully asleep.
A part of him tells him to leave the man here, mind his business and go about his day. He has a press conference to attend in the morning and he can’t waste his time . He needs to get home, prepare some questions and sleep.
But the better part of him says he can’t leave this man here. Who knows what will happen to him, he could get robbed or worse. And there’s something about this man that feels so innocent and vulnerable. Taehyung can’t just leave him. So he does the right (stupid) thing and takes him home.
Despite only being a few blocks from his home, getting a drunk stranger there is a mission. Especially when said stranger is much heavier than he looks and practically knocked out. But by the grace of God, Taehyung gets home, with only a few questioning looks thrown his way.
For some reason, the man wakes again, still in that drowsy state and looks around once they’re in Taehyung’s studio apartment.
“Oh,” he says, and then looks at Taehyung, his eyes still have that severely sleepy look to them, droopy and unfocused eyes. “I’ve never been alone with a man before. At least not a stranger,” he says before his clumsy fingers start to unbutton his shirt. “But I can’t say I mind.”
No. Absolutely not.
“Stop,” Taehyung groans.
Obediently, the man stops, his hands dropping to his sides. “Alright. You may undress me, then. I’d like silk pajamas, please.”
Rolling his eyes, Taehyung walks over to the room—separated by the rest of the apartment by only a curtain—and looks for pajamas. He owns no silk pajamas, the guy is going to have to settle for his two-piece matching PJs and even that is being very generous. “Coming right up.”
“Thank you,” the man says as he collapses onto Taehyung’s couch. Well then.
Taehyung wakes up to the insistent ringing of his phone coming from the armchair in the corner of his room meant for reading but really only houses all his used clothes. Like the pants he wore yesterday where the ringing is coming from.
Groaning, Taehyung stands on unsteady feet and stumbles to the chair trying to dig his phone out the left back pocket of his pants. The ringing thankfully stops before he can get a proper hold of the phone, but regrettably starts right back up again.
“What?” He croaks when he answers the phone, not even looking at the caller ID.
“You missed the conference,” Namjoon says into the receiver.
It takes a moment for Taehyung to register those words, but when he does his eyes pop open and his heart rate increases. “What,” he exclaims as he moves his phone from his ear to the front of his face to get the time on his face. 9:17 AM.
Fuck. “Fuck,” he groans as he covers his face with his hand. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
“Relax, they canceled the conference. Apparently his highness is sick. I doubt it but—”
“Wait,” Taehyung says. “They canceled?”
“Yeah. Didn’t tell us until we were all there but… Speaking of which, how did you manage to oversleep? You left the bar before anyone else.”
“Long story,” Taehyung sighs as he slumps in his chair, grateful that the entire thing was canceled and he won’t be losing his job. He may hate his boss, but that job is all he has. He and his parents depend on him for some extra cash to pay their evergrowing bills—they have never actually asked him for financial help but he always feels as if it’s only right to help them. “But wait—Jeon is sick?”
“Apparently—”
The beeping of another call on the line has Taehyung interrupting Namjoon to check who it is. His boss’ name shows on the screen. Fuck.
“I have to go, my boss is calling.”
“Good luck,” Namjoon says, wincing. “I’m going back home to get a few more hours of sleep.”
“Alright, thanks for letting me know, Joon.”
“Anytime.”
Quickly switching over the calls, Taehyung greets his boss, “Good morning, sir.”
“So the event was canceled,” His boss says.
“Yes. I just left,” he lies as he looks down at his less than impressive PJs; a stained white shirt and sweatpants with a bunch of small holes and accidental bleach stains.
“What did they say?”
“Apparently he’s sick but they didn’t tell us much more. Only apologized and promised once he felt better they’d hold another conference.”
“Typical,” he boss sneers. “Listen, I need you to get as much information on him and his family as possible.”
Taehyung’s eyebrow twitches, “Sir I’m not a reporter.”
“You’re going to be whatever I ask you to be,” his boss practically snarls.
Taehyung inhales to calm himself down before he does something stupid like yell at his boss and lose his job. “Sir, I researched him yesterday there’s not much to tell, he seems to be as genuine as he comes off to the public. Barely any bad press.”
“Barely,” his boss repeats. “So there’s something.”
Fuck. He winces at his own slip-up.
“It’s more to do with his brother than him,” Taehyung mumbles but purposely doesn’t elaborate.
“Good. Get more information on that then. Center the whole article around it. Sprinkle in some quotes from the conference whenever they reschedule it but keep it mostly about his brother. I want it on my desk the morning following the conference.”
He doesn’t even get a chance to answer because his boss hangs up, ending the call.
“Fucking asshole.”
How is he supposed to write an entire article about this guy’s brother? Not only would it be old news but it has to be ethically wrong as well. As he walks out of his room, moving the curtains out his way, he dials Jimin’s number only to nearly jump out of his skin when he sees a stranger sleeping on his couch.
And then he remembers the night before, the events having slipped his mind during the talk with his boss. Right. Damn it. The sole purpose for him missing the conference.
Should he wake him up? There’s really no reason to, Taehyung has nowhere to go as of now. But maybe the stranger does. As he contemplates all of these things, he looks at the man, taking in all the features he couldn’t quite see in the dark of last night. He feels like he’s seen him somewhere but can’t quite place his face.
His phone pings with a notification from a newsletter he’s subscribed to, the title of the article being about the youngest Jeon falling sick and missing the conference. Instinctually, Taehyung opens the article and right there under the title is a picture of Jeon Jeongguk. The same exact person who’s laying on his coach, sleeping away. Well shit.
But no. It can’t be true. That would be 1) too bizarre and 2) far too convenient. His life is painfully ordinary, modern-day princes don’t just fall into his lap like this. Or in this case, his couch.
Zooming into the photo of Jeon Jeongguk’s face he brings his phone to potential Jeon’s sleeping face and looks between the image and the real thing. The resemblance is uncanny, the same slope of the nose, same bow-shaped lips, the hair is similar, too just longer now. But the picture being used is a few months old, more than enough time for him to grow his hair. Even the eyebrows are a perfect match.
The resemblance is uncanny.
Holy shit.
He has a prince in his living room.
Okay, technically he’s not a prince, but he might as well be.
The heir to one of the most successful businesses in South Korea and the current face of his family's global philanthropy work is in his shitty living room, sleeping on his shitty lumpy couch, in his shitty pajamas.
“Jimin we have a problem,” Taehyung says hurriedly into the phone as he paces outside his front door.
“The problem is you calling me at this time, Tae. I’m at work.”
Right, aside from his side job of modeling for Namjoon he has a normal 9 to 5 office job similar to Taheyung’s but way more about numbers than stories or news.
“I understand that but listen: I have someone in my house.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re calling me because of a one night stand at 10 in the morning on a workday. Taehyung I will kill you.”
“No, not a one night stand,” Taehyung groans. “Jeon fucking Jeongguk is in my living room!”
Another pause, longer this time. In a tone that clearly states Jimin thinks he’s an idiot, he asks, “You’re telling me Jeon Jeongguk, heir to one of the most successful companies in South Korea is in your apartment? The same Jeon Jeongguk who is allegedly sick in his hotel room. So sick in fact that he had to cancel his very important press conference for his family’s very important Unicef campaign just this morning.”
“Yes!”
“Fuck off,” Jimin says promptly and then hangs up.
Fucking hell.
Groaning, Taehyung fists his hair in his hands and pulls. What the fuck? What the fuck ? What the hell is he supposed to do?
As a last resort, he pulls up his chat with Namjoon and simply texts: call me ASAP it’s an emergency. Like more urgent than that time you got a dildo stuck up Jimin’s ass and needed to go to the ER.
Locking his phone, he enters his apartment just in time to see Jeon Jeongguk stirring awake. The prince groans, stretching his arms over his head and extending his bent legs before yawning.
Taehyung watches as he wakes up slowly, immediately turning to his side and curling into himself after his yawn. It takes a moment, some wiggling to get comfortable before he seems to realize that what he’s sleeping on is not, in fact, a bed, nor is it up to par with his usual sleeping quality. Slowly, his eyes open, brows furrowing slightly when he sees Taehyung’s banged up coffee table, with tea stains, paint marks, and scratches.
“Huh?” He mumbles in confusion before looking around, sitting up and taking in the very unfamiliar surroundings. “Where—”
“Um, hi,” Taehyung says from his front door—the apartment is so tiny that he’s really only a few feet away from the couch.
Jeon whips his head away from the balcony doors—the only saving grace of his apartment—and turns to Taehyung. His eyes widen comically—they’re huge, just like in the picture, there’s no doubt he’s him — and then he speaks.
“Who are you?” He asks cautiously as he fists the covers Taehyung threw on him last night tight in his hands. His voice is surprisingly light, much lighter than Taehyung expects. Then again people tell him all the time that his own voice is much lower than expected.
“I feel like I should be asking you that,” Taehyung says with a raised brow. “Afterall, I did save you from sleeping on a bench all night.”
Jeongguk blinks, blinks again and then his face turns a shade of pink as he blushes. “A bench?”
“Yupp,” Taehyung says, popping the ‘p’. “A very public, very dirty bench. You seemed a little out of it so I brought you to my place where you demanded I undress you and give you silk pajamas. I don’t own silk pajamas so my shitty ones had to do.”
Jeongguk gapes at him before looking down at his clothes and noticing that yes, he is very much wearing pajamas and not the clothes he originally had on. And then his eyes widen and his hands shoot down under the covers, lifting his ass a little to—oh, oh.
He thinks they may have had sex. Well, that is surely unexpected.
When he finds that he’s very much not deflowered or whatever (Taehyung very much doubts a man with that much money and that face has never had sex, but then again one can never know), he sighs in relief, closing his eyes and slumping on the couch.
“I’m very sorry to cause you trouble,” he says remorsefully with a bow. “And I’m sorry for however I may have acted last night. I—um—I was under medication.”
He hates that a voice in his head that sounds very much like his boss whispers: like his brother?
“Don’t worry about it. My name’s Taehyung,” he says as he extends his hand for a shake, resolutely ignoring the voice in his head. “What’s yours?”
“Jeongguk,” he replies as he shakes his hand.
He didn’t even think to change his name. Interesting.
Before Taehyung can ask him more, like what he’s doing and why he’s here his phone rings with a call. Namjoon.
“I have to take this. Your clothes are right there and the bathroom is right across from my room if you need it.”
“Thank you,” Jeongguk says as he gingerly stands—in his full height he’s only a few centimeters shorter than Taehyung but a bit broader.
Taehyung smiles and then exits the apartment to talk to Namjoon outside his door.
“Is it really more urgent than the dildo incident?” Namjoon asks as soon as Taehyung answers.
“Yes, Namjoon, it is,” he exclaims in a hushed whisper.
“What is it then? Did you get a dildo stuck up your ass?”
“No, I did not get a dildo stuck up my ass because I’m not a fucking idiot. I have the supposedly sick Jeon Jeongguk in my apartment!”
“Jeon Jeongguk? Like the guy that was supposed to hold a conference today and didn’t?”
“Yes, him.”
“Did you get high without me again? That’s not cool dude, we’re like smoking buddies.”
Taehyung groans and contemplates getting new friends. “I am not fucking high. He’s in my apartment. Listen I found him on my way home last night, he was passed out on a bench and—I didn’t know it was him at the time, I swear, I was just trying to help a person in need but I saw a picture of him in this article about the canceled conference and unless Jeon Jeongguk has a twin the media isn’t aware of I’m like 99% sure he’s in my apartment.” He takes a deep breath, having said all of that in one breath.
The urgency in his voice must be what makes Namjoon realize he’s not fucking around because his friend curses under his breath.
“I mean this could be a good thing right?”
“What?”
“You can write an exposé or something. Listen clearly he ran away and he must have done so for a reason. Show him around the city, let him open up to you and then publish a piece about it. The Untold Truths of Young Philanthropist: Jeon Jeongguk.”
“I’m not doing that, Joon. That’s fucked up.”
“Listen, you need the money, it can help you and your family and you’d finally be able to see your grandma again. Do you know how much a story like that can sell? What’ll that do to a millionaire anyways? His parents will do some media clean up and it’ll be forgotten in a few days. Weeks tops.”
The thought of all the money he’d make off that article, of being able to see his grandma is almost enough for him to agree but—
“Joon, it’s fucked up. My boss already wants me to write some piece about his brother—I can’t .”
“Then get some info about his brother.”
“Joon, no. I’m not fucking up someone else’s life for this.”
“It seems to me like his brother’s life is already fucked up.”
“Well, I’m not adding flame to the fire.”
“Fine,” Namjoon surrenders. “It won’t hurt though to find out more about him. Maybe not anything personal but his views on things… on everything. No personal information, just a more indepth look into him than any conference could ever give people.”
That. Doesn’t sound so bad. Not like an exposé necessarily, more like a conversation with him.
“You could use the money, Tae.”
He thinks it over, weighs out the pros and cons. As long as he doesn’t get personal it shouldn’t be an issue or wrong… should it? No. It should be fine. He’ll only write about appropriate topics. Yes. He can do that.
“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “Bring your lighter. You know the one. I’ll give you a cut.”
“Sure thing. Text me where to meet you.”
“Will do.”
He hangs up with a heavy heart. Everything will be fine.
Back in his apartment, Jeongguk is dressed in his own clothes once more, looking down at the city from Taehyung’s balcony. Stopping at the open balcony doors, Taehyung really takes him in. Like this, he does look like a prince, he managed to style his hair a bit so it’s not so much of a bed head and his clothes are in good condition, and maybe it's the sun and the way it’s shining on him that makes the idea of him being a prince all the more believable. He’s glowing, he looks like he belongs in one of those photos romantics at heart carry around of their long-distance lover. When Taehyung comes up next to him, Jeongguk turns to him. Yes. A prince indeed.
“I have to go,” he says with a regretful smile. “I only stayed to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye? But we just met.”
Jeongguk looks sad as he shakes his head, looking back down at the people. “I really have to go. They’ll be looking for me.”
“Who?”
He hesitates for a moment, trying to come up with a believable lie, Taehyung is sure. “My school,” he settles on. It’s believable, he supposes, Jeongguk does look like he’s in college at least. “I came with my school for a study abroad program.”
“Yeah?” Taehyung humors him, impressed with the decent lie and seeing what more he can make up. “For what?”
“A humanities program.” He lies easily. Or well, maybe not. His campaign is meant to help children and families in poverty from all over the world. “They must be worried by now.” Jeongguk steps away from the balcony fence where he had been leaning on to look down at the city below. “I really have to go.” He starts to step around Taehyung in order to leave.
Taehyung gently grasps his wrist to stop him, his heart beating hard in his chest for some reason. Jeongguk stops, cautiously looking at him with question in his eyes but something else too that Taehyung can’t name before looking back down at his own wrist where Taehyung’s fingers are still gripping tight.
He hesitates, he doesn’t want to be pushy or make Jeongguk feel uncomfortable but he needs to get the story, an exclusive interview with the dubbed prince of South Korea. Fucking Namjoon.
Recovering quickly, Taehyung lets go of his wrist and smiles. “Let me walk you out then.”
“Okay.”
He and Jeongguk walk out of his apartment in silence. Taehyung fiddles with his house keys while Jeongguk plays with his fingers, not looking his way as they wait for the elevator. The silence is awkward and uncomfortable until Jeongguk says, “Thank you for last night. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if you weren’t there.”
Taehyung wishes he can say he would have been fine but that’s a blatant lie. “Just be careful from here on, okay? Promise me.” He holds up his pinky and Jeongguk stares at it for a moment before smiling.
“I promise,” he says as he wraps his pinky around Taehyung’s and shakes them once.
The elevator door pings open and they both step in with a lighter atmosphere.
When they make it outside of Taehyung’s apartment building Jeongguk smiles at him. “Really thank you so much. I wish I can repay you somehow… if you give me your address I’ll be sure to at least send you something—”
“Absolutely not,” Taehyung says with wide eyes. He ignores the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Jimin saying the least a millionaire can do is pay him back even a little. “It was the decent thing to do. Don’t worry about it, really.”
“But—”
“Just be safe,” Taehyung says as he takes his wallet out of his back pocket and hands him some money. “Take it,” he says as he tries to hand the money over.
“No,” Jeongguk balks. “I have money, trust me.” He shoves the money back at Taehyung, not rudely but more urgent and insistent. “I really am fine I promise!” He takes a step back to prove his point and throws him another smile. “Goodbye.”
Taehyung watches him walk away, he has a bit of a spring in his step and he can’t help but think Jeongguk isn’t going back anytime soon. Taehyung does the stupid thing and decides to tail him.
Jeongguk walks down the street feeling like a completely different person, being an anonymous person amongst the swarm of people is wonderful and so is being alone. He’s not used to this, being able to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants without any bodyguards or assistants or Hoseok or Seokjin following him.
Truth be told, he doesn’t know what he’s planning to do, he just knows he wants to make the best of the day. He keeps walking down the street, looking at all the stores and people feeling giddy with excitement.
Taehyung’s apartment is very close to St. Marks Place, just a few blocks, and as he walks down the street he’s instantly intrigued by the plethora of tattoo and piercing shops. Some are spots that sell hookah and vapes and offer tattoo services in the back, some are exclusively tattoo and piercing shops. Some look very shady but others look so legit. He sees one that catches his eye; it’s up a flight of stairs with drawings in the classic tattoo design and the name “Andromeda”. It’s above a fresh tea and juice shop called CoCo.
He only stares at it for a moment before his instinct has him walking up the flight of stairs without really thinking about it. It’s mid-afternoon so the shop is open and it being a weekday means it’s not overly busy. When he walks in there are two girls, they look like sisters, sitting on the plastic chairs and filling out a sheet with their information on it. The walls are a deep red with silver accents and a huge acrylic counter separating the work area from the customers as well as holding body jewelry and aftercare supplies.
“Can I help you?” A woman says from his left behind the counter where all their jewelry is out on display. She has a thick Russian accent and she’s tattooed from the neck down with multiple face piercings including two hoops on either end of her nostrils.
Jeongguk turns to her and smiles, “Yes, do you have an opening for a tattoo?”
“Give me a second hun, let me check with Kris.” And with that, she walks over to a set of doors in the back and walks in.
As he stands there waiting, he can hear the sisters chat about the piercings they’re getting. From the sound of it, one is getting her cartilage while the other both her nipples.
The lady comes back rather quickly, followed by a guy with tan skin, curly hair and a sleeve on his right arm and half a sleeve on his left. He looks really friendly, it might be the round glasses or the beanie but he looks really approachable.
“Hey, Ana says you’re interested in a tattoo?” He has the slightest hint of a Spanish accent, enough to hint that Spanish was his first language.
Nodding his head, Jeongguk says, “Yes.”
“What do you have in mind? I don’t have an appointment for another hour and a half so I can do something for you depending on the size.” The guy gestures for Jeongguk to follow him down to the very end of the counter as Ana takes the girls’ IDs.
“I’m not sure,” Jeongguk says truthfully. “Something small… it’s my first and I didn’t really think it through.”
The guy nods, remaining nonchalant. “That’s cool. We have some pre-draw sketches you can choose from if you can’t think of anything.” He takes out a book of tattoo designs and lets Jeongguk look through it. They’re all very nice but none of them scream “tattoo this on you” until he comes across a rather simple design. It’s a circle with the numbers 134340 curved around a side of it.
“The asteroid number for pluto,” Jeongguk says softly.
(It reminds him of his older brother when he had finally woken up from his drug-induced coma in the hospital. They were alone for once in the room, Jeongguk only 15 and trying his hardest not to cry because despite thinking he’d never see or speak to his brother again he didn’t want to make him feel bad. Their parents’ tears made him feel guilty enough. His brother had purposely kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, wearing his lips between his teeth in that way which means he was trying not to cry as well.
Unlike their parents, Jeongguk never asked his brother why he did it, or what he was thinking because a part of him understood. The pressure and expectations were becoming too much. Jeongguk understood because he was only 15 and he could feel himself cracking under that same pressure too.
“I felt alone and forgotten,” his brother had explained suddenly. “I didn’t feel like a person, everyone noticed me but not me.”
Then he had paused in a way that made Jeongguk swallow nervously.
“I felt like 134340.”
“Pluto,” Jeongguk had whispered. It was the first word he uttered since he walked into the hospital room.
“Alone and forgotten,” his brother said and for some reason, Jeongguk had started crying uncontrollably despite his best efforts not to.)
Jeongguk swallows the lump in his throat at the memory and says, “I want this one.”
“Nice,” the guy says. “Since it’s an original sketch it’ll be $120, it’ll also be closed afterward so no one will have the same tattoo as you.”
“That’s fine,” Jeongguk says, already pulling out his credit card. The one he can use internationally.
The guy, Kris, gets his laptop and pulls up the sketch’s digital file, and asks, “Where do you want it?”
Jeongguk pulls a blank because he never thought of where to put it. Somewhere hidden preferably, to keep from his parents and the media. But a part of him doesn’t want it hidden at all, he wants this one tiny act of rebellion to be seen by everyone, to take back some control in his life and silently tell everyone this is my life and I can do what I want even if realistically he can’t. Not only that, but it’s also more for his brother than anything and he wants it to be seen, a symbol of his love for him that says no matter what he’s going through, Jeongguk will always love him.
Because regardless of everything, Jeonsoo has always been an amazing brother to him. Jeongguk could never resent him even at the worst times of his addiction and his recovery.
“My hand,” Jeongguk decides spontaneously. “The back of my hand,” he points to the space between the bones of his pointer and thumb finger.
Kris’ eyebrows raise but not in judgment, more out of appreciation. “Bold for your first tattoo, I like it. Lemme just get a few sizes of the sketch up and we’ll figure out how big it’ll be.”
Jeongguk nods, leaning against the counter as Kris does exactly that in front of him.
“Do you want it to fit between the bones there?” Kris asks, his pointer tapping once on each bone.
Jeongguk looks at the patch of skin and thinks. “I don’t mind if it’s a bit on the bone. I want it closer to my wrist than my fingers.”
Kris nods before handing him the necessary papers to read and sign and gets back to duplicating the original sketch and then resizing each one without distorting the linework.
Jeongguk waits and looks around at the pictures on the wall, normal pictures—not sketches of tattoos. There are some of Ana and some of Kris and some other people who Jeongguk assumes work there or are just close friends. The older pictures show the same ensemble of people except instead of Kris there’s a woman that looks a lot like him, just more feminine, softer delicate features in contrast to his sharper ones. He wonders if they’re twins.
“Do you have a sister?” Jeongguk asks quietly. When Kris looks at him, Jeongguk gestures to one of the highest pictures on the wall.
“Ah,” Kris says, looking a bit uncomfortable as he rubs the back of his head. “No. No that’s me. Or was me. Me before I was comfortable with myself.”
“Oh…” Jeongguk says and then asks, “Are you a lesbian then?”
Kris kind of laughs but not really. “No. No, I’m not a lesbian. For a while, I thought I was? Because some lesbians have the whole “masculine” aesthetic going on but no. I’m gay and trans.”
It takes a moment for that to process. Jeongguk just kind of stares blankly while blinking. “Oh,” he says and then blushes. “What pronouns do you use?”
Kris finally smiles authentically since Jeongguk asked about the pictures. “He/him is fine.”
Nodding, Jeongguk says, “Me too. The pronouns I mean.” He’s not sure if it’s the right thing to say but he just doesn’t know what else to say.
Kris snorts out a laugh, giving Jeongguk this kind smile before shaking his head and focusing back on his laptop. “Noted.” Then he taps the tabletop and walks towards the printer just as it starts printing out the design.
Jeongguk watches as Kris walks back with the paper and cuts each design out. “Let’s see which size you like more.” They compare all three to the space on Jeongguk’s hand and design on the second size that’s not too big or too small.
“Give me a minute to transfer it.
It takes about 5 minutes for Jeongguk to be in the backroom seated with all the equipment laid out next to him. Kris sanitizes everything and sets up his space in front of Jeongguk. He thinks it’s to reassure him that the space is thoroughly cleaned and all the needles being used are brand new. Kris takes out two different shades of black and two different sized needles with his gloves on and secures the tiny ink holders to the plastic-wrapped table with vaseline.
“Okay,” Kris says and turns to Jeongguk. “Don’t be nervous. To be honest the hands are usually the body part that hurt the most but everyone’s pain tolerance is different. If it gets to be too much just let me know and we’ll take a break. Okay?”
“Okay.”
All in all the process does not hurt nearly as much as Jeongguk thought it would. It stings more than anything but eventually, the vibrations from the tattoo gun make the surrounding skin go numb.
“So are you visiting?” Kris asks as he draws over the outline on Jeongguk’s skin
“Yeah,” Jeongguk nods. “Is it obvious?”
“A little. You have this wide-eyed look about you as if it’s your first time.”
That’s not true. Jeongguk has been in New York City before, just not with this context. Not completely alone with the ability to do whatever his heart desires until he goes back.
“It is in a way…” Jeongguk admits.
“Are you all alone here?”
Grimacing Jeongguk says, “It feels that way. I’m kind of hiding in a way. Letting myself do what I want for a day. I’m not usually allowed to do anything outside of my schedule.”
“Schedule? Are you a celebrity or something?”
Jeongguk chokes on air. “No! Gosh, no. My parents are just really strict and protective. I’m not allowed out on my own much…”
“Oh, so you’re suffocated.”
Yes. Suffocated is the perfect word for his situation.
“Yes,” he breathes out. “It’s exhausting being what people want you to be, especially when who they want you to be isn’t you.”
Kris makes an understanding sound. “I get that. Trust me.”
And for a second Jeongguk feels guilty. “Sorry. I must sound ungrateful.”
“No,” Kris says, still mainly focused on the tattoo. “No matter what the circumstances not being true to yourself sucks.” Kris pauses to lean back and look at the tattoo so far with a critical eye before nodding to himself and going back to tattooing. “If you ask me you should go all out today, do whatever the hell you want and just be true to yourself.”
Jeongguk is quiet for a moment, he agrees he should but—
“Can I ask a personal question?”
Kris pauses, lifts the needle off of Jeongguk’s skin and he looks up at him. “Depends on the question.”
That’s fair. Jeongguk nods in understanding. “Um. Are you out?”
Kris snorts out a laugh again. “Yeah, I have been for a few years now.”
“H-how did people react?”
Kris sighs and turns off the tattoo gun, the sounds of the vibration seizing and for a moment Jeongguk is scared he’s offended him by crossing a line. “To be honest,” Kris starts before Jeongguk can apologize. “It was the whole being trans thing they didn’t understand more than the being gay thing. My parents, I mean. Mainly because they didn’t understand how my liking boys could be considered gay when to them I was their little girl, not their little boy.” Kris sighs and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “When I told them I don’t feel like a girl on the inside. That I hated what I saw when I looked in the mirror because it didn’t match what I felt on the inside… they didn’t understand.”
And Jeongguk hates where it’s going. He doesn’t know what he’ll say or do if it keeps going the way he thinks it will.
“I moved out shortly after,” Kris admits. “But… I think one thing you’ll learn is that made-family is just as strong if not stronger than blood.”
Jeongguk says nothing because he doesn’t know what to say. It’s not what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want to have to find a made family, he wants the one he has just with less pressure and more honesty. He doesn’t want to replace his parents or his brother, he loves them. He thinks he’ll always love them even if they don’t love him after—
Kris observes him while he’s lost in his own head before saying. “It’s different for everyone though. Are you…?”
“Not trans but…” Jeongguk pauses because he’s never said it out loud. Not once. He’s never even thought of admitting it out loud. Because admitting it out loud makes it too real and once he does he can’t go back. Nothing will be the same.
Kris doesn’t push him but he does give him this look, a look of deep understanding and even a little encouragement.
“I’m gay,” Jeongguk gasps out as if it’s been punched out of him. The words spilling out as if they’ve been lodged in his throat building up for years, just waiting for the moment to spew out. “I’m gay,” he repeats his voice getting thick from the tears building up.
Reaching for some tissue to give him, Kris nods, puts his hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “And that’s okay,” he says gently. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I—,” Jeongguk cuts himself off, his free hand gripping the tissue and dapping his wet eyes. “I’ve never said it out loud.”
“That’s okay too,” Kris says, still gentle.
“Thank you,” Jeongguk says and he means it.
Another reassuring squeeze and Kris goes back to the tattoo.
The rest of the time is mainly quiet, Kris focused on tattooing while Jeongguk is far too lost in his head, mind swirling with everything he’s been holding in.
The whole process takes only about half an hour and by the end of it, Jeongguk feels lighter in more ways than one.
When it’s done and Kris wipes away the vaseline and the blood there’s a clean tattoo left behind with crisp lines. “Like it?”
Something delicate inside of Jeongguk starts to rise and a huge grin spreads out on his face. “I love it. I love it so much,” he says.
Kris grins, looking pleased that Jeongguk is so happy with it. “Let me take a picture of it. Do you want me to take a picture with your phone?”
Jeongguk didn’t bring his phone, it would be too easy for them to track him and bring him back. Thinking about it now so will his credit card… he’s hoping it’ll take at least a few hours for the payment to post. “I left my phone in the hotel,” he admits sheepishly.
“Ah right.” Kris looks at him for a moment. “Hey, are you doing anything tonight?”
Jeongguk pulls a blank. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “I know I have to be back before the night ends.”
“That’s enough time,” Kris says vaguely.
“Enough time for what?” he asks as he watches Kris gently wrap up his tattoo. He’s starting to think everything about Kris is gentle.
“There’s a place in Greenwich Village… Well actually there are a lot of places in Greenwich Village but there’s a club of sorts there. It’s for the LGBT community exclusively. You should come by. I know the owner, just let the people in the front know I invited you.”
“I—”
“You owe it to yourself to be true to yourself for one night, Jeongguk.” Kris gently interrupts. “Live your best life today so no matter what happens afterward you can always look back on this day and remember this feeling.”
Stunned, Jeongguk nods, when put like that he can’t say no. Kris writes down an address on a piece of paper and hands it to him. “Tonight around 10 or 11… come by. Live a little.”
Taehyung is walking down St Marks when he spots him again. Somehow he lost him in the crowd and the painfully ordinary clothes he’s wearing do not help. You’d think a millionaire would dress a little more flashy. But then again it seems like he ran away last night, blending in must have been part of his plan.
He spots him by luck. Jeongguk is just walking out of a tattoo studio and stops at the top of the stairs to hug a guy with a red beanie and round glasses. Jeongguk has a huge smile on his face as he says something and pockets a piece of paper.
Taehyung watches as the tattooist walks back into his shop as Jeongguk practically skips down the steps.
“Jeongguk,” he calls.
Jeongguk startles, whipping around with almost fearful eyes as he tries to see who recognized him. Recognition floods his features as well as relief as he realizes it’s just Taehyung.
“Taehyung,” he breathes out in relief. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just going for a walk,” he says as he vaguely gestures around.
Jeongguk nods slowly. “It’s a weekday,” he says slowly, measured. “Don’t you work?”
“My boss gave me the day off actually.”
“Oh.”
There’s an awkward moment of silence to which Taehyung asks, “What are you going to do from here?”
Jeongguk finally looks at him, narrowing his eyes as he processes the question. “I—,” he cuts himself off as he bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth. “I don’t know,” he says with a soft giggle. The sound is nice. Very pretty. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He looks so excited by that.
Nothing about him adds up. A 22-year-old millionaire with no freedom, who giggles at the notion of living his life by the minute for only one day. Maybe the story will be juicier than Namjoon or even Taehyung had predicted. It still doesn’t mean he wants to write it.
Taehyung doesn’t really know what to say so he gestures at Jeongguk’s bandaged hand. “I see you got a tattoo.”
Jeongguk looks so happy that he noticed, smiling genuinely as he lifts his bandaged hand. “Yes! It’s small but it’s mine,” he says with so much fondness as his other hand gently touches the bandage, caressing it to his chest.
An unknown feeling rises in Taehyung’s chest as he watches him. “What did you get?”
“It’s a little silly,” Jeongguk says with a hint of embarrassment, his cheeks have the slightest blush.
“But it’s yours,” Taehyung repeats his words with a reassuring smile.
“Yes,” Jeongguk says with that dazzling smile again. “It’s Pluto,” he confesses. “Just an outline with its asteroid number. Despite what people say, it didn’t hurt very much.”
Taehyung chooses not to ask him if the tattoo means anything important, most people won’t even elaborate if their tattoos do stand for something. He’ll need to get Jeongguk to trust him first. He decides to change the subject for now. “What time do you have to get back to your group?”
If Jeongguk forgot about his cover story he doesn’t show it, instead, he looks considerate as he thinks. “We leave tomorrow around noon. I’d like to get back to them before the night ends.”
Taehyung pulls up his sleeve to reveal his wristwatch and reads the time. It’s only 11:30 right now, he’s sure there’s lots of information he can get out of him in the hours before daybreak. “That leaves us with a lot of time.”
“Us?” Jeongguk asks with a raised brow, but he looks more amused than put off.
Humming, Taehyung nods, slightly concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly immediate trust with a virtual stranger. Sure Taehyung helped him last night but still. He’s starting to see the naivety in him, maybe he is more sheltered than Taehyung thought. “Yes, us. How about a personal tour of New York City from an actual New Yorker?” He holds out his elbow for Jeongguk to hold with a welcoming smile.
Jeongguk hesitates, he looks so close to saying no but then something flashes across his face, something akin to determination and he links their arms together as if it’s the bravest thing he’s ever done. Maybe it is.
Smiling widely, Jeongguk says, “I like the sound of that. Just promise we’ll be done before I have to leave.
“Before tomorrow morning we’ll be done. I humbly promise,” he replies without missing a beat.