jeongguk was what one might refer to as a dreamer. part romantic, part idealist, either with his head in the clouds or buried in the sand. that bit was mostly dependent on who you asked, and what sort of mood they were in.
unless that person was yoongi. his opinion of jeongguk was quite clear. and quite loud.
“he’s just an oblivious kid, borderline delusional. there's nothing deep or profound about it.”
and he loved yoongi with his whole heart.
it’s still summer
hyyh yoonkook au
status: 90% finished
to everyone else, namjoon was a brilliant philosophy student that would make socrates swoon with pride. to yoongi, namjoon was the annoying roommate that laid awake at night mumbling things like,
“do jellyfish get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?”
and yoongi hated him.
but he liked him more than he hated him.
brilliance is in the mind of the beholder moodboard
namgi, roommate/college au
status: finished
a songbird rises and falls, with no one there to catch it. it spends decades alone, withering away in a rotting city. a shell of what it once was. and then jimin finds it, finds the songbird named jeongguk, and suddenly the silence the songbird had become accustomed to was so loud he couldn’t stand it anymore. jimin finds a songbird that had only known sorrow, and decided to be kind.
and helped the songbird rise again.
or: a sleeping beauty au where only jimin finds jeongguk beautiful
beauty must die (but I’m already dead)
fic trailer
status: part one finished
jeongguk knew that his time was limited, hanahaki didn’t wait for anyone or anything. soon he would stop breathing, soon a bouquet of perfect white roses would pierce through flesh and bone, reaching for the one thing it could not have. his days were counted in bloody petals and he was slowly running out.
or: a beauty and the beast inspired hanahaki au where both yoongi and jeongguk are the Beast
softer than petals, sharper than thorns moodboard
hanahaki/soulmate au
status: finished
info: yoonkook, teen+, hanahaki/soulmate au
genre: angst, romance | word ct: 9k
warnings: blood, violence, descriptions of hanahaki related symptoms, alcohol abuse, self destruction
summary: jeongguk knew that his time was limited, hanahaki didn’t wait for anyone or anything. soon he would stop breathing, soon a bouquet of perfect white roses would pierce through flesh and bone, reaching for the one thing it could not have. his days were counted in bloody petals and he was slowly running out.
or: a beauty and the beast inspired hanahaki au where both yoongi and jeongguk are the Beast
cross posted on ao3
Each and every single person on the planet is born with a dormant flower on their wrist. The flower only blooms once you meet your soulmate and will slowly die the longer you and your soulmate are apart. It will be revived if you return to your soulmate before it dies. The only known exception to this rule is when a child meets their soulmate their flower doesn’t start to die until their 18th birthday.
But if you have your flower removed before it dies you save yourself from a far more gruesome fate.
Once the flower on your wrist dies there’s no way to revive it. When the last petal falls you contract Hanahaki, a typically fatal disease. Your lungs are filled to the brim with the flower that adorns your soulmates skin. If you do not find your soulmate and earn their love, the flowers inside of you will multiple until you choke on the petals and drown in your own blood.
Other than earning the heart of your soulmate there is no cure for Hanahaki.
When Jeongguk’s friends asked who his soulmate was, they never understood what he meant when he simply said,
“The moon.”
wait—wasn’t he supposed to fall in love with a person? Then he’d laugh—
“Who said that I didn’t?”
—because how else was he supposed to describe someone whose pull on his heart was stronger than a full moon’s pull on the violent waves? That question was far easier to answer.
He couldn’t,
and he didn’t want to.
Jeongguk met his soulmate by accident on a cold Autumn night. He was on his way home when something—someone—caught his eye. A kid with blonde hair sitting on an old tree stump with bloody knuckles and a black eye. Despite the distance, Jeongguk’s heart stopped when their eyes connected—maybe time did too. The world could’ve stopped turning and he wouldn’t have been phased because at that exact moment, the phrase “love at first sight” had never been more fitting.
Thinking back, Jeongguk didn’t even notice that the flower on his wrist had blossomed while they stood there gazing into each other’s eyes. He didn’t see how the petals reached out to the stranger like an old friend. All he could think about was how handsome he was, how he had never seen anything more beautiful. How his blond hair glowed underneath the light of the full moon, how his eyes swirled with passion and mystery. How for the first time in his life—Jeongguk knew exactly what he needed to do.
I need to know his name.
But it was the one thing he wouldn’t learn that night—
“Can I sit here?”
—and that was okay.
For a brief moment, or maybe it was an extended period of time, they remained in silence. A silence that deafened them. Neither of them said anything, but their eyes spoke volumes. Their souls screamed and their hearts soared. Their wrists stung in pain as the flowers that had since been dormant suddenly bloomed underneath the light of the full moon. Even though the white petals that reached out towards him were mesmerizing to watch Jeongguk couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away. The delicate way that his lips parted entranced him in a way that he didn’t fully understand.
“Are you just going to stare at me all night?”
Well—
He chewed on his lip nervously.
—probably?
Because, if Jeongguk was being perfectly honest, he was at a loss for words. What do you say when you’re looking at perfection? When perfection is gazing back at you, when their blossoming wrist means that all that perfection—is meant to be by your side? It was too much for Jeongguk to process, too much for him to wrap his head around.
Am I dreaming?
No, he wasn’t.
This is more than a dream.
This is fate.
And he was right.
Which is why Jeongguk still curses himself for never getting his name. He was too busy memorizing every inch of his soulmate, every imperfection that made him even more perfect. Even if he didn’t know his name, he knew how his eyebrows knit together in thought, how his nose scrunched up in frustration. The way his cheeks puffed out in annoyance—that was more important to Jeongguk than a name. No matter how much he wanted it because—
he vanished,
almost like he never existed to begin with.
Just like that—the moon had disappeared from his sky. The only trace of him was etched into Jeongguk’s skin, a warm summer flower that couldn’t dispel the chill he felt in his heart. Each day dragged into the next and he could only look at his wrist and sigh, wondering what happened to the boy with the white flower laced into his veins. Jeongguk would wait for him on that tree stump, hoping that Fate would be on his side for a second time.
It never was.
As he grew older, as he grew taller, as his memory of that night faded into wistful nostalgia, Jeongguk slipped haphazardly into complacency. He had completely forgotten that once he turned 18, once he was old enough, that perfect night underneath the moon would slowly begin to kill him. His life would be reduced to a handful of wilted petals, and when the last one fell—Hanahaki would take root in his lungs.
Hanahaki.
He felt his palms begin to sweat.
That—that’ll never happen to me.
Except it did, he just—
—refused to believe it.
No matter how many petals wilted, even though his once vibrant flower so full of life slowly died from neglect, he couldn’t accept it. Because how would he cure his affliction? How was he supposed to find someone he had met over ten years ago, a nameless face that disappeared into the night?
At that thought, he laughed bitterly.
I can’t.
The Jeongguk that met his soulmate was one brimming with warmth, he was comforting and kind. The Jeongguk that watched his flower die was an empty shell in comparison. He was angry and cynical, he drank too much and partied too loud. His friends became accessories to his antics and his parents worried themselves sick. At nights when alcohol clouded his judgement but freed his mind he often thought to himself as he gazed up at the moon,
Perhaps he only seemed perfect because I’m so—imperfect.
and in a way, he was right.
But in many more ways he was horribly wrong.
He only came to terms with it after his 21st birthday when a sharp pain in his wrist tore him from his dreams and threw him into a nightmare. Jeongguk screamed as the flower tattoo he had lived with for years finally died and turned into a grotesque scar. He cried as the fate he tried to will away dug its ridged claws into his throat. He held his injured soul to his chest because he couldn’t believe—couldn’t wrap his mind around how he let it get to this point.
A piece of him had died, a piece he would never get back. And as much as he wanted to blame his soulmate, his younger naïve self, he was the only one at fault. He did this to himself. He had signed his own death certificate, willingly and foolishly.
“Why didn’t you have it removed?”
His friends would ask,
“I don’t know.”
he'd return,
because clearly he had never thought of it.
But, they did pose a valid point—
Why didn’t I?
—why didn’t he?
It was a question he should’ve considered before it was too late. He just—he never imagined this could ever happen to him. How could the boy he met possibly kill him? How could his soulmate kill him so beautifully, so tragically? How could one perfect night that should’ve opened so many doors be the prelude to the end? Why did the idea of ripping out a piece of his soul repulse him more than dying slowly, painfully, with little to no hope of recovering?
Why did I do this to myself?
Whatever the answer was, it wouldn’t keep him alive. So,
Jeongguk spiralled,
and he spiralled hard.
The only companion to stay by his side—
Pop.
—was the bottom of a bottle.
But even drink would betray him in the end.
As his condition progressed, as perfect white petals crawled up his throat and restricted his every breath, he became more and more reckless. More destructive. Drugs, alcohol, sex, he would do anything to take his mind off his own fate. He destroyed his body with whatever he could get his hands on, or he coaxed others into doing it for him. His veins coarsed with toxic chemicals and overwhelming regret, his skin marred with cuts and bruises. He was a broken man. If he continued down the path he had set his sights on—he would kill himself long before Hanahaki would even get a chance.
Love couldn’t destroy him if he destroyed himself.
He thought—
Maybe that’s how it should be.
He should’ve learned by now that no matter what he has planned,
ultimately it was fate that held the cards.
And usually in the most ironic way possible.
Clair de Lune,
He scoffed as he looked up at the neon blue sign.
I really am a masochist.
Stepping inside the darkened bar, Jeongguk felt oddly at home. Even though he had never been there before, his legs carried him to the counter almost subconsciously. Without realizing it he was sitting at the bar with a gin and tonic placed neatly in front of him. In the past, that would’ve worried him. But at some point in Jeongguk’s spiralling decent it became his routine. He accepted it mostly because he wouldn’t remember it within a few minutes. Soon he would forget everything except his own name, which was perhaps the one thing he wanted permanently erased from his memory.
His own identity.
At some point in the night, Jeongguk’s meager control over his aggression slipped from his grasp. It was almost like the flip of a switch, one second he was calm and collected, content to wallow in his own misery, then he suddenly had the neck of a bottle of beer in his hand. He couldn’t remember what set him off, it could’ve been nothing but a sideways glance. The only thing he knew for certain was that no matter how many times he willingly hurt others it would never compare to how he hurt himself. It was only when everything went black that he finally felt any sort of relief.
“Hey, wake up.”
The voice that pulled Jeongguk from his alcohol induced haze was probably relatively calm and quiet, but it tore through his skull like a jagged knife. His head was splitting, his eyes throbbing, his jaw, clenched too tight, was practically locked in place. It was almost as if his mind was a dam and his thoughts were the rushing water threatening to spill past. The pressure—it was almost unbearable.
Then that water covered him head to toe.
“What the fuck?” Jeongguk sputtered, suddenly far more alert and aware.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
The stranger snorted quietly. “This is coming from the punk who broke a chair against a wall and sucker punched me in the face? That’s fucking rich.”
Jeongguk’s head pulsated as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing.
Did I do that?
He cracked open his eyes and noticed the cuts up his forearm, they were superficial at best but the splinters of wood embedded in his palms supported the stranger’s story. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him, just sometimes he was surprised at how violent he could get while drunk.
“I should really be calling the cops.” The stranger sighed. “You trashed my bar and probably cost me about ten days worth of sales in damages alone. Nevermind that I had to close down three hours early because your rowdy ass wasn’t leaving.”
Stiffening at the man’s tone, Jeongguk felt some resistance. He had only then realized that he was sitting against a wall, his wrist handcuffed to a safety rail circling the bar.
He was trapped.
And he didn’t like it one bit.
“Let me go.” Jeongguk gritted out but received no response. “Uncuff me you bastard, this is fucking kidnapping!”
“Kidnapping? Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only protecting myself. You really don’t like people telling you what to do.” He replied with a smug grin. “You see this shiner?”
He pointed to the black and blue bruise reaching from his chin all the way up his jaw.
“This is what you did when I refused to pour you another drink. And this one here?”
He lifted his shirt and exposed a shallow cut to his ribcage.
“I was trying to take your keys when you pulled a knife on me.” He dropped his shirt. “So do you see what sort of predicament you’re in now? Assault, destruction of property, I could easily get your punk ass arrested for this and a lot more. I may run a shitty bar, but it wasn’t this bad until you showed up.”
Pointedly ignoring the carnage around him, Jeongguk simply glared at the stranger.
“Then why don’t you? Call them, see if I care.”
He snorted like Jeongguk had said something funny.
“Do you honestly believe that if I was going to call the cops I wouldn’t have done it by now?” He laughed. “Boy, you’ve been out cold for two hours. You should be thanking me that you didn’t wake up in a drunk tank.”
“Thanking you?” Jeongguk questioned in disbelief. “I don’t care who you are or what your game is but if you don’t let me go I swear I’ll—”
A perfect white petal inching its way up his throat interrupted him.
Fuck.
There was coughing,
and a lot of blood.
But then—
“Shit, not again, hold still.”
—the stranger was being kind to him?
“I’ve never seen someone so young have Hanahaki so bad.” He shook his head. “Who the fuck burned you kid?”
Jeongguk didn’t mean to, but he laughed.
“The moon.”
The stranger didn’t laugh though.
Because it wasn’t funny.
“Damn.” He muttered, pressing his knuckle to his mouth. “Can’t say I blame you for drowning yourself in shitty booze.”
Thanks.
“But that doesn’t mean that I can just let you get away with trashing my bar.” He sighed. “My barback quit because you freaked him out so bad.”
What do you want me to do about that?
“I was thinking that I forgive and forget all of the broken furniture and hundreds of dollars in profit that I lost if, and only if, you work for me for the next couple of weeks.”
Are you fucking shitting me. I’m dying and this asshole wants me to work for him?
“Sound fair?”
No, not really.
“Yeah, whatever.”
So the stranger smiled.
And Jeongguk had to admit—
“Great.”
—he was beautiful,
“I’m Yoongi, by the way.”
his name was too,
“I’m Jeongguk.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Kook. Let’s get you all patched up.”
and his voice was, in a word,
Perfect.
A word that he used to cherish, a word he used to associate with the one person who ruined him completely.
God he forgot how much he hated that word.
But when it came to defining Yoongi,
“Thanks.”
he didn’t mind it so much.
Jeongguk watched him as he carefully dressed his wounds. He didn’t even flinch as Yoongi pulled out slivers of wood and shards of glass from his palms. Honestly, he wouldn’t have noticed if Yoongi hadn’t been apologizing every five seconds for hurting him. By that point—he was practically numb. Pain was an old friend, one he preferred the company of. Pain was easy, pain was something he understood.
But when it came to Yoongi, with scarred knuckles and brash tattoos, he didn’t have a clue.
He had no idea why watching him wrap gauze around his injured hands made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long while.
Something he had lost the name for.
In the time it took the alcohol to leave Jeongguk’s system, he was already the new barback for Clair de Lune. Yoongi tossed him a black shirt and an apron, put his number in his phone, and got all the paperwork started. All while Jeongguk stood there in complete and utter silence.
“No drinking on the job, you hear me?”
Jeongguk went rigid.
What?
How was he expected to stay sober?
He honestly couldn’t remember what being sober felt like.
But—
“Okay.”
—he agreed to Yoongi’s terms.
Even if he was sure he would disappoint him in the end.
Wait—
—why do I care?
“Alright, that’s everything.” Yoongi smiled. “I expect you back here in 13 hours. You better head home and go right to bed because being hungover isn’t going to make the night any easier for you.”
For a moment, Jeongguk didn’t move.
He didn’t say anything.
He just looked at the clothes in his hands and the dead flower on his wrist.
But then he whispered,
“Do you honestly expect me to come back?”
Then, for whatever reason—
Thump.
—Yoongi grinned.
Thump.
“Yeah, I do.”
Thump.
And Jeongguk almost smiled back.
Thump.
Almost.
Thump.
He was back at his apartment just as the sun was coming up over the horizon feeling—confused? Uneasy? He couldn’t name the emotion that broke through his crippling migraine, he only knew that it was all he could think about. What was it about Yoongi that didn’t make him lash out angrily? If anyone else had bossed him around like that he would’ve easily gotten into a fight.
“You’re going to get yourself killed, Kook!”
Namjoon used to try and curb his behavior, to fix him. Something that Jeongguk should’ve taken to heart instead of using to further fuel his rage. Each and every person who reached out to him, who even attempted to steer him back towards a better path, they were quickly cut out of his life. Usually by his own doing. When he was drunk it feared a darkness in him he never knew he possessed. He burned bridges with violence and hatred, refusing to let anyone in close long enough to help him. Because he didn’t want their help.
So why did he accept Yoongi’s? Why was he different?
Why?
I don’t know.
He didn’t like not knowing.
He hated how Yoongi didn’t make sense.
I stabbed him, I destroyed his bar!
He clenched his fist.
Why didn’t he have me arrested?
He punched the wall.
I don’t know.
But I need to.
For hours he stood at the train station, a duffel over his shoulder and a ticket held ticket in his bandaged hand. He couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi, how he selflessly took care of him, how he knelt beside someone who had destroyed the things he cared about and still—
“Who the fuck burned you kid?”
cared about him as well?
Someone long past repair?
Yoongi didn’t make sense to Jeongguk.
But he needed to make sense of him.
“Do you honestly expect me to come back?”
He had to so he could sleep at night.
“Yeah, I do.”
And that’s why he showed up for his first shift.
To try and solve the mystery of Yoongi.
“Hey.”
Jeongguk mumbled.
“Hey.”
Yoongi smirked.
Silence.
“Are you just going to stand there all night? Or are you going to get to work?”
Jeongguk blushed.
“Shut up.”
Working for Yoongi was—a change of pace to say the least. It was such an immediate contrast to the life Jeongguk had been living, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. He wasn’t used to anyone having any sort of expectations of him anymore. Yoongi did, for whatever reason. Jeongguk knew deep down that it wouldn’t be long before he gave up on him like everyone else, yet that didn’t stop him from enjoying it while he could.
Jeongguk came into work for the first three days completely sober, an astonishing feat for him. He smiled at customers, talked to his coworkers, everything was fine. Then he started coughing up more and more flowers at work, those sickly white petals that he hated so much. People would cast those pitying glances at him, offer reassuring words, and it made his stomach churn. It reminded him that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t going to escape Hanahaki.
For once,
just once,
he wanted to be normal.
Normal.
He wanted to be normal,
he wanted to have a job,
he wanted to forget,
but he couldn’t.
Hanahaki would never let him forget.
Each time he felt the weight lessen,
when he felt like he could breathe again,
Hanahaki tightened its grip on his soul.
What’s the point?
The point of being normal—
Normal.
—if it was all a lie?
The answer was simple.
There isn’t one.
So he went back to drinking.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
When Jeongguk practically stumbled over the threshold two hours after his shift started, his apron tied sloppily around his waist, his fate was sealed. He saw Yoongi at the bar, his fist clenched tightly around a rag and his jaw set in anger. After excusing himself from a discussion at the bar, he slammed the rag down on a table as he crossed the room, fury blazing in his eyes. Jeongguk should’ve been afraid, and maybe he was, but he didn’t show it. Even as Yoongi took him by the arm and dragged him out back to rip him a new one he didn’t waver.
Maybe because he knew it was what he deserved.
“What the hell is this?” Yoongi questioned, gesturing to Jeongguk’s haggard appearance. “Four days in and you’re already coming into work drunk two hours late? That’s all you can handle?”
He shrugged.
“Fucking typical, I really shouldn’t be shocked at this point.”
He flinched.
“Go home, Jeongguk. I’m giving you tonight and tomorrow to sleep this off.”
He stiffened.
“When you come back on Friday you better not even think about pulling something like this again.”
Thump.
What?
At first he didn’t completely understand,
he fully expected Yoongi to fire him on the spot.
It made sense,
anyone else would.
But then he remembered,
Yoongi never made sense.
“I’m tacking on another week to our deal for this, just so you’re aware.”
Yoongi paused to light a cigarette.
“You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
Jeongguk was okay with that.
Thanks to Yoongi he was able to pull himself out of the rut of self destruction he had fallen into. At least for the most part. There were still nights when he was left with nothing except his own toxic thoughts and the allure of drink was almost too much to handle, but he did his best. On his days off he still made questionable decisions, met questionable people, did questionable things, it was better than nothing.
Yet it wasn’t enough for Yoongi. Somehow he always knew what Jeongguk got up to in his off time, almost like he could smell it on him. One look and he knew everything, he read Jeongguk like an open book. How he hated that disapproving look of his, how he could lecture Jeongguk with nothing but a glance. It—it made Jeongguk feel uneasy in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. Like—like he cared what Yoongi thought of him.
That’s ridiculous.
He told himself.
There’s no way.
So why was that the only explanation that made sense?
Why did the idea of someone caring about him,
someone who had absolutely no reason to,
tie his stomach into knots?
I have no idea,
But he had to admit—
it’s kind of nice.
Even if he knew it wasn’t going to last.
Because,
like most everything else in his life,
time was not on his side.
The three weeks passed by quicker than he thought possible.
He was standing behind the bar buffing some glasses when he suddenly realized—
Today is my last day.
—and the thought alone made his stomach sink like a rock.
He didn’t want to go back to how things were, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to drift from moment to moment, hating himself and everyone around him. He didn’t want to wake up in someone else’s bed and have no idea what their name was. He didn’t want to hurt others to help ease the pain he was causing himself. He didn’t want to let anger and frustration dictate his every action. He didn’t want to use alcohol and hatred as a tool to numb his senses and forget his fate.
And, most importantly,
he didn’t want to go back to a life without Yoongi in it.
That was what terrified him most.
More terrifying than the bloodied flowers in his lungs.
But Yoongi never said anything.
Through the entire shift they continued on like it was just an ordinary day. Yoongi did his job, Jeongguk did his, neither of them brought up the deal that kept him at Clair de Lune in the first place. Maybe Yoongi didn’t know, or maybe he had forgotten. But somehow Jeongguk knew that wasn’t the case because when they were done for the night Yoongi cast Jeongguk a knowing look and said plainly,
“See you tomorrow, kid.”
Thump.
Jeongguk didn’t bother to correct him.
Even though he would say the same thing for several weeks after,
Jeongguk never corrected him.
If Yoongi was going to let him come back, he would do so gladly.
Because even though he was coughing up flowers more frequently,
when he was with Yoongi,
it didn’t phase him nearly as much.
He wasn’t afraid of death,
if life was worth living.
So for the first time in forever,
he decided to let someone else in.
And,
surprisingly,
Yoongi became his closest friend.
But Jeongguk never realized how much he appreciated what Yoongi did for him. He didn’t realize that he would do almost anything for Yoongi because of one simple fact,
he gave him a chance.
Because based on what he saw from Yoongi,
he didn’t take a chance on just anyone.
“That’s it, I’m cutting you off.” Yoongi stated simply to a customer.
“You’ve had enough.”
Unfortunately the drunk didn’t agree.
“I’ll tell you when I’ve had ‘nough.”
Yoongi crossed his arms. “That’s not how things work around here.”
“‘o th’ fuck gave you th’ right?”
“Me.”
He clarified angrily.
“This is my bar, asshole. Got a problem with it? The doors right there, it’s bright red. I’m sure even you could find it ya fucking moron.”
Jeongguk was bussing a table when he heard Yoongi dealing with the drunk sitting at the bar, the only one left besides the two. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, and for some reason it felt—personal. But not to Yoongi, to him. He didn’t like it when customers badmouthed his friend. Whoever they were, they’d been drinking for hours already and were only getting more belligerent as the night dragged on. He had spilled two of his drinks and the majority of the last beer he bought wound up down his shirt.
Obviously it was time for the man to go home.
So Yoongi dealt with him easily, cool, calm, collected. Not that Jeongguk expected anything less from someone who stared down bikers twice his size and didn’t even flinch. Clair de Lune was his territory, no one could touch him, and that pissed a lot of people off.
“Wha’ a fuckin’ bitch.” The drunk slurred after Yoongi left the bar to take a call. “‘o is he t’ tell me when I can or can’ drink? Does he know ‘o I am?”
Suddenly,
Jeongguk felt a very familiar rage build up inside of him,
for a very unfamiliar reason.
“Thinks he’s so fuckin’ special? I’ll sho’ ‘im.”
Jeongguk watched as the drunk stood up uneasily and leaned over the bar. After knocking over several bottles he wrapped his grimy hands around a Jack Daniel’s and popped the top off. The bottle was halfway to his mouth when he finally intervened.
“You really shouldn’t be doing that.” He started politely. “Not unless you’re planning on paying for it.”
“What’re ya gonna do about it?” The man taunted with a smug grin. “This’ll teach that lil’ bitch bartender t’ mess with someone his own size.”
Before Jeongguk could contemplate the most appropriate course of action, he had already punched the drunk right in the throat. Which he wanted to regret but couldn’t bring himself to. It sent the large man stumbling backwards, bourbon sputtering past his lips.
And he wasn’t happy.
“Th’ fuck!” He managed through gargled bursts, wiping off his mouth and struggling to catch his breath.
“Yer gonna regret tha’ ya lil’ punk!”
Without hesitating for even a second the drunk discarded the bottle and pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket. He pointed the blade right at Jeongguk with intent clear in his eyes. It should’ve scared him, but it didn’t. Despite the fact that the man in front of him was armed and heavily intoxicated, he didn’t waver. He stood strong because he knew there were far more frightening horrors in the world.
Himself included.
A drunk man with a knife was nothing to him.
When the man lunged at him, Jeongguk dodged easily. He had been in plenty of bar fights in his life, most of which he had thrown himself into without remembering why. It was how he coped. His adult years were marked with cuts and bruises, signed with alcohol and mistakes. He used his fists to say the things he was too terrified to admit to anyone, much less himself.
I don’t want to die.
Because maybe there was something left worth fighting for.
Something worth living for.
“What the hell is going on out here?”
Or someone.
“I’m Yoongi, by the way.”
He didn’t have a chance to respond, the drunk man used the small window that Yoongi unintentionally created to land a clean punch to Jeongguk’s jaw. While pain radiated through his skull it didn’t shake his resolve, it only fuelled his anger more. It stoked the flames that resided in Jeongguk’s soul, flames that had long since died out.
Waiting for a purpose again.
The second time the man tried to stab Jeongguk, he succeeded. Only because Jeongguk allowed him to. He met the blade halfway with his own hand, stopping it with flesh and bone. Courageously holding the sharp edge tight in his grasp. He didn’t move as the steel cut deep into his palm, as his own blood coated his hand and cascaded to the floor.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
“Wha’ the fuck?” The man shouted in disbelief. “What’re you—”
Whatever he had to say was silenced when Jeongguk’s forehead connected with his nose.
And he didn’t stop there.
With his grip still wrapped around the blade in his left hand he delivered blow after blow with his right. The deeper the knife cut into him, the deeper the bruises he left. He was practically blind with rage, the only thing he cared about was hurting this man. Even in his darkest days he had never been so angry, so furious, so violent. Maybe alcohol didn’t fuel his need to wreck havoc, maybe it subdued him.
It suddenly came to him that—
“Jeongguk!”
—he had no idea what he was capable of.
“That’s enough!”
He was unstoppable.
“Jeongguk! Enough!”
Until Yoongi pulled him kicking and screaming from his haze.
Blinking past the red cloud hovering over him, his fist raised to continue beating on the poor man, he saw what he had done.
There was blood,
Oh God…
there was blood everywhere.
And it all belonged to him.
“Yer fuckin’ crazy!” The drunk man all but whimpered in fright. “I’m gettin’ out of here!”
He released his grip on the blade,
Jeongguk didn’t.
The cold steel was almost calming.
As the man stumbled over his own two feet to get as far away from Jeongguk as possible,
he still had the knife in his hand.
“Jesus Christ, kid! Let go!”
Clang.
It clattered against the ground.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Yoongi asked, pulling Jeongguk aside and pressing a rag into his palm. “Who the fuck thinks that holding onto a sharp blade is a good idea?”
Jeongguk didn’t respond.
“Holy fuck—” Yoongi exasperated. “This is bad, you’re gonna need stitches kid.”
Silence.
“What got into you?” Yoongi continued to press. “I’ve never seen you like that. Even when you’re drunk you’re never that—that—”
Say it.
“Terrifying!”
Yoongi shook his head in disbelief.
“You were a completely different person!”
I know.
“There better be a good reason why you decided to punch the living daylights out of some drunk. We see dozens of those everyday and I can’t have you getting violent with everyone that walks in—”
“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.”
Yoongi paused,
his cold eyes softened.
“What the hell…” He mumbled, pulling another rag from his back pocket. “That wasn’t necessary, y’know that? I can handle myself just fine, Kook. And I don’t usually wind up worse than the other guy because I know not to grab onto sharp things!”
“I couldn’t stop myself.” Jeongguk admitted honestly. “I—I don’t know what came over me.”
Thump.
“If he knew the real you—”
Thump.
“Then he wouldn’t have said all those things.”
Yoongi cast his gaze towards the floor,
“Do you even know the real me?”
He questioned quietly.
Do I?
The question was simple,
but the answer was not.
Because Yoongi was a mystery,
Do I really know him?
one he was determined to solve.
So he decided to be honest.
“No.”
Thump.
“But I’d like to.”
Jeongguk could’ve sworn that he saw a ghost of a smile on Yoongi’s lips before he quickly turning away. It was a rare sight, a small window that closed too quickly. Despite knowing Yoongi for months, he rarely got a glimpse into who he really was. Yoongi kept the whole world at bay with sarcastic comments and harsh jokes. That’s how he liked it, being alone. He claimed that those who stayed by his side were either masochists or idiots.
“What does that make you?”
He had asked Jeongguk jokingly.
“Neither.”
When he had really wanted to answer,
“Both.”
because there was no place he would rather be.
That’s why Jeongguk spent all of his time at Clair de Lune. Whether he was working or not. Yoongi and his coworkers were the only ones who cared about him. His old friends had abandoned him long ago, his parents had given up on him, there wasn’t anywhere else for him. Even after getting sober he still spent most of his time in a bar.
He chuckled at the small irony.
Eventually, after working there for about half a year, Yoongi trusted Jeongguk enough to work behind the bar. Not just as a barback,
as a bartender.
“Don’t fuck this up, kid.”
Were his words of encouragement.
It made Jeongguk smile.
Partially because he trusted him,
mostly because he got to spend to spend more time with him.
He shadowed Yoongi for a couple of weeks, learning how to make drinks and how to deal with customers. While he usually managed to scare off all interested bartenders within a couple of days, Jeongguk stayed. Yoongi used to say to him in the most polite way possible that his people skills were shit,
and he was right.
The last time Jeongguk really tried to be personable and get along with others was well before the flower on his wrist withered and died. Everytime Yoongi would chastise him for being too blunt or for being rude, he’d look at his scarred skin and somehow manage to smile.
I wonder what Yoongi’s flower looks like?
He contemplated that almost daily.
Yoongi always wore long sleeves when he was at work and he never rolled them up. He almost made it a point to pull his sleeves down every other minute. Everything about Yoongi was a complete mystery. Even his own skin.
It only made Jeongguk want to know more.
Because he had already memorized every single inch of him, from his split eyebrow to the perfect shape of his lips. The way he could silence a room with nothing but a glance, how his nose scrunched up when he was dealing with a difficult customer. How sometimes Jeongguk would catch him gazing into a mirror almost as if he was afraid his own reflection would disappear.
Despite knowing all of that,
it wasn’t enough.
There was more to him,
much more,
and Jeongguk was determined learn it all.
No matter how long it took,
no matter how many times he coughed up blood,
how many times he choked on petals,
he would endure it because Yoongi was worth—
Everything.
—everything.
“If you have any questions feel free to ask me.” Yoongi offered on Jeongguk’s last day of training. “I’ll be here with you behind the bar at all times so there’s really no reason for you to worry.”
Thump.
“Thanks.” Jeongguk mumbled.
“What did I tell you about mumbling?”
Jeongguk blushed.
“Sorry.”
Yoongi grinned, patting Jeongguk on the back.
“No worries, you’re just really fun to pick on.”
Thump.
“It’s your fault for being so cute.”
Thump.
“Very funny.”
“It’s the truth.”
Thump.
I think—
Thump.
I might like Yoongi.
Thump.
That’s crazy right?
Thump.
How could I be so selfish?
Thump.
So stupid?
Thump.
Loving someone who could do so much better?
Thump.
When I’m going to die anyway?
“Whatever you say, Yoongi.”
“Those are some dangerous words.”
Thump.
“You better be careful what you say.”
Forget Hanahaki,
he’s going to be the death of me.
And just as that thought crossed his mind—
Oh no…
—he felt the flower in his chest try and claw its way towards sunlight.
He felt stems and leaves rake against his esophagus, felt petals soaked in his own blood rising like bile. But he put on a strong face for Yoongi. He didn’t want him to know how bad it was getting, how every day they spent together was another day closer to his violent end. Maybe it was selfishness, maybe it was denial, he wasn’t sure which it was. All he knew was that he couldn’t bare the thought of Yoongi looking at him with sadness in his eyes.
I’m fine.
He lied to himself because,
it was an easy thing to say,
I’m fine.
but a harder thing to be.
I’m fine.
I’m
fine.
“Jeongguk, are you okay?”
For Yoongi—
“Yeah.”
I’ll be fine.
For months he was able to pretend like Hanahaki wasn’t slowly filling his lungs with beautiful flowers. When he was at Clair de Lune he could act like nothing was wrong. He didn’t care that it meant he would be sitting at home coughing up petals until the sun came up, Yoongi didn’t need to see any of that. Jeongguk could handle that much and a lot more if it made Yoongi smile.
Jeongguk would do anything for Yoongi,
Anything.
he would even live a little longer.
All for him.
All for
him.
Because I love him.
Because he loved him.
And sometimes,
just sometimes,
love is enough.
Then, faster than he thought possible, he’d been at Clair de Lune for a whole year.
Which, to be fair, didn’t seem accurate.
Have I really only known Yoongi for a year?
It felt like much longer.
It felt like Yoongi had been a part of his life since the very beginning.
He really couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t at the bar cleaning tables or serving drinks. The drunk that first stumbled in and picked a fight with the person who eventually hired him no longer existed. Maybe it had something to do with how often he worked there, but it felt like more than that. It felt like his whole life had revolved around Yoongi for so long.
Only a year.
Strange, how time played tricks on the mind.
Jeongguk thought only alcohol could do that.
Yoongi taught him otherwise.
And somehow that didn’t surprise him.
“Happy Anniversary!”
He was standing at the door when a confetti bomb went off in his face. For the entire shift Yoongi made no inclination that he had any idea what day it was, or how important it was to Jeongguk. Which he didn’t mind, Jeongguk had no expectations from him. Yoongi was just his boss, just his friend. Friends don’t make big deals about work anniversaries.
Unless they do?
Thump.
“You thought I forgot, didn’t you?” Yoongi accused him with a smirk. “Don’t try to deny it you asshole, it’s written all over your face.”
Jeongguk blushed.
“Whatever.”
“Whatever.” Yoongi mocked. “You’re not fooling me, kid.”
I wish I could.
“What do you want me to say?”
“How about a thank you you ungrateful brat.” He chuckled. “Better think up something fast or I’m going to eat this cake I got for your rude ass all by myself.”
Thump.
“Fine.”
He muttered.
“Thank you.”
Yoongi grinned.
Thump.
“That’s more like it.”
Thump.
“Now sit your ass down and keep quiet. I’ve got a cake to cut.”
His heart racing a mile a minute, Jeongguk could only nod and do as he was instructed. He took a seat at the bar while Yoongi grabbed the cake from the back and did his best not to stare.
Behave.
“I didn’t really know what cake you’d like, so I just got chocolate.”
Thump.
“Chocolate’s fine.”
“Good.”
Thump.
“Because that’s all you’re getting from me.”
And that’s okay.
Thump.
I don’t need anything else.
You’ve already given me so much.
While Jeongguk was doing his best not to make an obvious fool of himself, he noticed something—
Yoongi rolled up his sleeves.
and his heart stopped.
His eyes darted back and forth between Yoongi’s wrists, searching for something—
that wasn’t there.
That’s not possible.
There was no flower.
There was no tattoo.
His skin was completely bare.
“Here ya go, eat up!”
Jeongguk looked at the slice of cake in front of him,
but he had no appetite.
In fact—
he felt sick to his stomach.
Maybe he really was sick,
Of course I am.
because blood and petals spilled past his lips.
“Oh shit—fuck. Stay here, I’ll go get a clean rag.”
Jeongguk had been so distracted by Yoongi’s missing tattoo he wasn’t able to control the coughing fit he was enduring. Each time his diaphragm contracted he felt the roots digging deeper into his lungs, the pain was excruciating, crippling. It was too much for him to keep hidden from Yoongi, he couldn’t stop the blood as it pooled in his mouth and spilled past his clenched teeth. All he could do was watch helplessly as the white petals swirled hypnotically in the puddle of blood.
“Holy fucking shit, just hang in there Kook it’ll be okay.”
His heart ached in response because no matter how much he wanted to be fine—
I can only pretend.
—he would never be fine.
“I’m okay, Yoongi.”
For you I’ll be okay.
“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, I know this is probably killing you.”
Jeongguk didn’t mean to but a bitter laugh slipped past his lips.
“It’ll take a lot more than this—”
Cough.
“—to kill me.”
He wondered if he was the only one who sensed the irony.
“I think it’s about time you tried to find your soulmate, Kook.” Yoongi said quietly, cleaning off his mouth. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
he reached out for Yoongi’s bare wrist.
“What if I don’t want to find my soulmate?”
Thump.
“What if I—”
Thump.
“—only want you?”
Yoongi stiffened at Jeongguk’s confession, shocked at how easily the heartfelt words left his bloodied lips.
“Jeongguk—”
He sighed but didn’t move.
“do you have any idea what you’re saying?”
Thump.
“I do.”
Thump.
He dusted his thumb against Yoongi’s pale wrist, pressing lightly against his pulse.
“You’re crazy, Kook.”
Thump.
“I’m sorry—”
Thump.
“I don’t feel the same way.”
Thump.
Jeongguk expected that much.
Thump.
But he really didn’t care either way.
Thump.
He was still smiling,
Thump.
because the racing heartbeat he felt,
Thump.
wasn’t his own.
Thump.
And that while Yoongi could hide behind words,
Thump.
he didn’t realize that he was far more honest than that.
Thump.
Even when he didn’t want to be.
“That’s okay, Yoongi.”
Thump.
“I didn’t expect you to.”
And apparently neither did you.
They didn’t talk about his confession after that night, they didn’t let it change their relationship either. It wasn’t anything awkward, it was something Jeongguk had to get off his chest. Afterwards everything went back to normal, just two coworkers who happened to be really close friends. They would laugh together, smile together,
perfectly
normal.
The only difference was that every now and then—
Jeongguk would catch Yoongi staring.
Or at least he thought he did because before he could get a good look,
Yoongi had already turned away,
his red ears saying more than his mouth ever would.
But Jeongguk kept his distance,
he stayed away.
If Yoongi was going to push,
Jeongguk wouldn’t pull.
He would wait,
and wait,
and wait some more.
Until Yoongi was ready.
“Hey, you got a second?”
Which was sooner than Jeongguk could’ve hoped for.
“Of course, what’s up?”
“Do you wanna go for a walk with me? I think I—I owe you an explanation.”
Thump.
“Sure.”
They didn’t go far, just down the street to the park. For a while they sat there in silence, and at first Jeongguk thought their walk was an excuse for Yoongi to go out and smoke a cigarette. He felt his lips pull into a frown. Yoongi’s habit was the only thing Jeongguk hated about him. He hated watching Yoongi fill his lungs with toxic chemicals, hated how something so ugly would probably kill him someday.
He deserves better than that.
“So—”
Yoongi started, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“—this isn’t me like, taking back what I said or anything, okay? Just needed to like—get that out of the way.”
Jeongguk nodded.
“Cool, awesome. But—I still think you deserve to know why. You’ve been honest with me so I—I should be honest with you. That’s fair, right?”
Nod.
“Great. This is going better than I thought.”
He said, pointedly ignoring how his hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“You—you saw my wrist, I know you did. You know that I—that I had my flower removed.”
Nod.
“I met my soulmate when I was still some snot nosed brat who could barely go a whole day without picking a fight.”
That sounds familiar.
“So when I realized that the chances of ever seeing him again were less than desired I—I had my tattoo removed.”
Jeongguk reached out for him. “I wish I had done the same thing.”
Yoongi pulled his hand away.
“That’s not the point, I wish I hadn’t.”
Jeongguk froze.
What did that mean?
“Because I was so afraid of being alone I took away the one thing that would help me find him, that would help him find me.”
Jeongguk swallowed nervously.
“I was such a little bitch that I would’ve rather let my soulmate die than risk never finding him again.”
I never thought of it like that…
“I’m not proud of what I did, Kook.”
He sighed.
“I’m a coward that doesn’t deserve love.”
Thump.
“You deserve the chance to live a long life, you won’t get that with me.”
Thump.
“I don’t like you like that, so there’s no reason for you to stay. It’s best for you to move on.”
Thump.
“Tonight’s your last night working at Clair de Lune. The deal’s off.”
Jeongguk didn’t even flinch.
“The deal’s been off for months and you never let me go. You wanted me to stay as much as I wanted to be here.”
Yoongi’s cheeks began to turn a light pink.
“Stop kidding yourself kid, I just—I forgot is all.”
Thump.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He challenged, scooting closer to him.
“If you really want me to go, say it.”
Silence.
“Say Jeongguk, I don’t want you in my life and I’ll be gone.”
Silence.
“I’ll get up from this bench and you’ll never see me again.”
“I—”
Yoongi hesitated, almost tripping on the words.
“I don’t want that.”
Jeongguk couldn’t help but smirk.
“I don’t want that at all.”
Thump.
“Okay.”
Then, under the light of the full moon,
Jeongguk kissed Yoongi.
And,
despite all his best efforts,
Yoongi kissed him back.
Jeongguk had seen perfection in his life,
he saw it twice.
Then he saw it and heard it every day.
But how perfection felt against his lips—
he had no words to describe.
There wasn’t fireworks,
or electricity surging through his soul,
and somehow that perfect moment underneath the stars still managed to take Jeongguk’s breath away.
Yoongi was raw and unforgiving, generous and kind. Everything that Jeongguk came to love about him was present in his kiss, in the warmth that he gave back to him. He took Yoongi’s bare wrist in his hand, gingerly caressing the piece of his soul that he lost a long time ago. He wanted him to know that he would never be alone, that he would be by his side for as long as he could.
Don’t be afraid.
While it wasn’t possible, he felt that maybe Yoongi heard him somehow because suddenly he was gripping Jeongguk’s shirt as if he was scared he would disappear. A chill reverberated down his spine, he felt butterflies beating their delicate wings against his ribs, whatever Yoongi was trying to tell him—he heard it loud and clear.
Don’t leave me.
I won’t.
Promise?
Promise.
Then,
for the first time in years,
it didn’t hurt to breathe.
Which Jeongguk knew wouldn’t last,
but he didn’t care.
After ten years of waiting,
the moon had returned to his sky,
brighter than it ever was before.
“God—what the hell have you done to me?”
Yoongi said with a smile.
Jeongguk shook his head and laughed.
“I think I should be the one asking you that.”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
And that’s okay.
They knew their time together was limited, Hanahaki didn’t wait for anyone or anything. Soon Jeongguk would stop breathing, soon a bouquet of perfect white roses would pierce through flesh and bone, reaching for the one thing it could not have. His days were counted in petals and he was slowly running out.
Somehow—
they didn’t care.
When they looked into each others eyes everything else slipped away. Time would stop and they would fall happily into ignorant bliss. They chose to ignore the inevitable to enjoy the memories they had yet to create. It was their one comfort, the one thing they held dear because soon—
it would all be over.
“I wonder what would’ve happened if you never walked into my bar.”
Yoongi mused as they laid together in a field of flowers.
Jeongguk stifled a laugh.
“I would’ve wandered into another bar, gotten into the same fight, and would’ve probably woken up in prison.”
Yoongi chuckled.
“Then I’m glad you picked my bar that night.”
Pause.
“In more ways than one.”
Jeongguk smirked, lacing their fingers together.
“If it wasn’t for the moon we never would’ve met.”
“What is up with you and the moon?”
I fell in love with it.
“I wish I knew.”
I love the moon
that filled my lungs with flowers,
I love the moon
that never fails to make me smile,
and I love the moon
that’s slowly killing me.
Because it brought me to you.
The last stages of Hanahaki are always the worst and for Jeongguk it was no different. As his days dwindled he couldn’t hide it any longer. He couldn’t hold in the flowers that were set on destroying him. When he passed out at work, when no matter how hard he coughed he couldn’t dislodge the flower from his airway, Yoongi finally knew the truth. He stood in the corner of the bar while everyone else rushed to Jeongguk’s aid. He watched in horror as blood pooled around him because his worst nightmare had come true.
Hanahaki was about to steal the most important person from him.
And in his own mind—
it was all his fault.
So,
he vanished.
By the time Jeongguk came to—
Yoongi was gone.
He didn’t leave a note,
what would he say?
He didn’t leave a trace,
almost like he never existed to begin with.
Jeongguk sat at the bar, tears streaking his face and a smile twitching at his lips.
Despite everything—
Everything…
—he was still happy.
Happier than he ever thought he’d be.
If he had the option to go back,
to find his soulmate and live a happy life,
he wouldn’t.
He wouldn’t trade the handful of months with Yoongi for anything.
Because they were
perfect.
As he held a perfect white flower in his hand, stained red with blood, he didn’t feel any malice towards it. Towards fate, towards his soulmate, he would no longer be angry at something he had no control over. Sometimes mistakes happen, sometimes fate gets it wrong.
People like Jeongguk—
they don’t get happy endings.
He had grown to accept that.
With Yoongi gone from Clair de Lune, Jeongguk felt no obligation to stay there. As much as he loved that quaint little bar, it wasn’t the same without him. He decided to spend the last few weeks of his life mending the bridges he had burned. He called his friends from school, apologized for how he pushed them away, and made amends where he could.
People who had no reason to take him back did so with open arms.
He made a trip back home to see his parents, to let them know he was happy. They cried when they saw him because the son they had lost came back only to lose him again. He apologized for that, apologized for his selfishness, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. Even for him that would be far too cruel.
The last place he made a point to visit—
was the clearing where it all began.
He came back to the tree stump under the light of the full moon, a bittersweet smile on his face. No matter how much time had passed since that fateful night he could still remember every last detail of his soulmate as he sat there angry and alone. How perfect he was. He remembered falling in love with someone who was more beautiful than the stars that shined overhead. He remembered falling in love with someone who made it seem like time had come to a complete halt.
He remembered a perfect night when love was innocent and soulmates meant forever.
How a red hibiscus had blossomed on his wrist,
how he first caught a glimpse of the flower that would one day kill him.
And he still loved it just the same.
Turning to leave, he noticed that at the base of the stump, a handful of white flowers reached up towards the moon. It was odd, seeing something so beautiful without the sun to sustain it. Curious, he crouched down and let the petals rest on his fingers. They were soft, graceful, and hummed with mystery. He couldn’t help but smile at their persistence, they reminded him—
of Yoongi.
Of Clair de Lune.
A beautiful flower that only opened up its petals to the cool warmth of the moon.
Carefully he plucked one and pulled it in close, realizing that not only did it remind him of Yoongi—
There’s no way…
—it was the same flower that had been draining his life for years.
For so long he had been certain it was a rose that plagued him,
and he wasn’t sure why that suddenly filled him with such hope.
Because it didn’t matter what the flower was,
only who it belonged to.
But—
if Yoongi could be personified by a flower,
it would be the one in Jeongguk’s hands.
He felt crazy for considering it, like a flower had cut off oxygen to his brain, but what if—
what if
Yoongi was the moon
that first brightened his sky
all those years ago
on a perfect night
just like this.
It’s impossible.
But—
“Hey.”
what if it’s not?
When Jeongguk turned around,
there he was.
His own definition of perfection.
“Are you just going to stare at me all night?”
Well—
He smiled.
—probably?
Because, if Jeongguk was being perfectly honest, he was at a loss for words. What do you say when you’re looking at the one person you thought you had lost forever? The one person that gave love, gave life, more meaning than he ever imagined?
