Cloudy With a Chance of Supernova

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/47573140.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V
Characters: Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Kim Namjoon |
RM, Park Jimin (BTS), Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope
Additional Tags: Fake Marriage, Slow Burn, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers, Cultural
Differences, A Study of Sorts in, The Immigrant Experience™, Eventual
Smut, Mental Health Issues, Jeon Jungkook is an "Asshole", Kim
Taehyung is a Cranky Gremlin, Virgin Kim Taehyung | V
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-06-01 Updated: 2023-11-16 Words: 52,103 Chapters:
10/15
 Cloudy With a Chance of Supernova
by violetdreamscapes

Summary

Jungkook Jeon is everything Taehyung is not.

Obscenely rich for one, unnervingly arrogant for another.

Taehyung often wonders if one is the precursor for another, if he too would think he’s better
than everyone else if he had the money to afford the lie.

or;

Jungkook and Taehyung get married to fulfill the last wish of Jungkook's late grandfather.
 Cloudy With a Chance of Rain
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

Taehyung once overheard someone. A smug, prick of spotless pedigree. A diamond among a
sea of equally coveted gems at an exclusive dinner party at the Econ Department Chair’s
house.

“You’d have to be seriously deluded to believe money can buy happiness.”

It was followed by a soft gaggle of laughter, a casual affirmation from the group that
Taehyung had only been a crude bystander to.

Someone else had thoughtfully added, “Only people who don’t have money believe that,”—
like lack of wealth was some critical character flaw, a pervasive ailment that needed a swift
remedy.

If Taehyung had not been the only scholarship student at Dr. Hans’ centuries old,
meticulously preserved Tudor style mansion that night, maybe he would have spoken up. If
he had been in attendance with peers whose eyes also bugged out when they saw the
extravagant chandelier cloaking the grand foyer the same way his had, maybe he would have
said something. Something to the effect of, “well, it may not buy one happiness, but it sure as
hell sets them up for it.”

But Taehyung was the token scholarship kid, so he took a ginger sip of his Strawberry
Daquiri and kept his lips pursed. The sticky, cloying drink and an embittered desire to fit in
effectively gating his thoughts.

❝「☁」❞
“This isn't a triple shot,” Jungkook says with distaste. He has his freshly served cup of
Americano in front of his nose.

“My-my bad,” Yeonjun stutters, eyes the size of saucers. He quickly evades Jungkook’s
pointed gaze to face the espresso machine. “Let me make another for you.”

“Get it right this time,” Jungkook demands, setting the cup down on the counter.

They are short staffed today. It’s the last week of classes, and as is the norm, a lot of people
who finished their finals early have already fled campus. The library especially has
practically been a ghost town. Taehyung had counted on that to breeze through the week.

What he didn't account for was that Yeonjun has only been on the job for two weeks. His
inexperience shows when he lets the portafilter slip from his hand and fall to the ground with
an incriminating clatter. He winces, and instead of keeping it moving, his eyes fly to
Jungkook who is now glaring at Yeonjun like he is the most incompetent human he has ever
encountered in his whole life.

Taehyung works fast. “Here, let me,” he says, gently pushing Yeonjun out of the way with his
hips, and unclasping the portafilter with a triple basket from one of the group heads on the
espresso machine. His hands move swiftly, operating fully on muscle memory as he fills the
portafilter with ground coffee and expertly tamps it.

The aroma that greets his nostrils as thick, glazy ropes of espresso trickle out is intoxicating.
Nothing gets college students, even the ones who shuffle across campus grossly sleep
deprived—actually, especially them—more revved up than the prospect of free food and
more caffeine. More, because most are in a perpetual caffeinated state so you’re never truly
starting from ground zero. Taehyung is no different. The first thing he does on days he opens
the shop—even before he measures, grinds, tastes—is brew himself a nice cup of coffee.

Coincidentally, his usual cup happens to be an Americano with a triple shot of espresso as
well.

He spies Jungkook’s head bent over his phone from his peripheral vision. Jungkook doesn’t
look up as the machine whirs to life with a guttural noise, or when it stops with a loud
conclusive thump. Taehyung adds the shot to a to-go cup, pours hot water over it.

“Americano with a triple shot,” Taehyung announces in his booming barista voice even
though there are no other patrons around. It’s mostly out of habit, but Jungkook gives him an
unimpressed look. He picks up the cup and takes a whiff. Nodding, he mutters, "Thanks."
The word hasn't so much left his mouth before he's already turned around and started walking
away.

“Shit, shit, shit! ” Yeonjun swears, as soon as Jungkook is out of earshot. “My hands turned
to jelly. I’m so sorry, Taehyung. I just freeze during confrontations.”

“It’s all good,” Taehyung says, calmly. “It happens when you’re starting.”
That is not necessarily true. Taehyung juggled back to back orders during the rush of
midterms week with no problem when he first started a couple of years back. But hearing that
will neither help Yeonjun, nor would saying it out loud do Taehyung any good.

He absentmindedly picks up the cup of Americano Jungkook had taken a sip of and rejected.
No coffee goes wasted under his watch. He had been thinking about brewing a cup for
himself anyway.

“But, but, that was Jungkook Jeon,” Yeonjun exclaims, looking absolutely mortified. “Wow,
Jungkook Jeon thinks I’m a moron now.”

He probably thinks everyone is a moron , Taehyung wants to say, or alternately, He doesn’t

even know who you are, so what does it matter?

“I’m sure we’re just blips in the vast, grand world of Jungkook Jeon,” Taehyung says instead.
“He’s not even going to remember this interaction by the end of the day. Probably has much
more interesting things going on in his life.”

Jungkook Jeon is a bit of an enigma around campus. He excels in everything from academics
to intramural sports. He even has a thriving social life even though Taehyung sometimes gets
the impression that he is highly socially inept. He is everything Taehyung is not. Obscenely
rich for one, unnervingly arrogant for another. Taehyung often wonders if one is the precursor
for another, if he would think he’s better than everyone else if he had the money to afford the
lie.

“That’s the thing though, Taehyung,” Yeonjun says, in a conspiratorial hush. “Ilsung Jeon
passed away last month.”

“Who?”

“Ilsung Jeon.”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“My guy, have you been living under a rock?” Yeonjun's eyebrows almost shoot up to his
hairline. “You don’t know the Ilsung Jeon?”

Taehyung resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I mean, the name sounds vaguely familiar, but no,
I can’t say I do.”

“Ilsung Jeon, the founder of Jeon Incorporated? First Korean-American billionaire? Top
0.00001% of New York City?”

Ah.

Taehyung remembers now.

Ilsung Jeon. The self-made Korean immigrant who built an empire on the heels of a mega
successful confectionery manufacturing company. He has been credited with popularizing
Korean desserts like Hotteok and Bungeoppang in North America through their bastardized
candy bar renditions like Hot Take and Red Bbang . Today, they are as much Halloween
staples as Hershey Kisses and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

“Oh, that man,” He says, shrugging nonchalantly. "He died?"

Normally, he might have felt a little silly not correctly identifying such a prominent figure.
But his head is spinning thinking about how much money the man must have had to fit into
that preposterous income bracket.

“Yeah, that guy was Jungkook’s grandfather,” Yeonjun dramatically puts the pieces together.
“I mean, he still is his grandfather, I guess. Being dead does not change that, but you know
how people talk about dead people like they never existed at all? I don’t know, that’s always
been a little weird to me—”

As Yeonjun rambles on, Taehyung can’t help but wonder how much of the foul mood
Jungkook seemed to be in was colored by his grief. It’s difficult to tell because Jungkook is
always very curt and unflinchingly serious on his coffee runs. Taehyung sees him outside of
the library coffee shop too; marching to classes through College Walk, dining with his
boisterous group of friends at John Jay, hunched over his laptop on the Low Steps on sunny
days. He always looks the same—like he had just a few moments ago, like someone has
inconvenienced him greatly.

Gruffly, Taehyung thinks he would definitely be in better spirits if his grandfather was a
billionaire.

“—lot of eyes on the grandchildren right now. People say Jungkook was his favorite, but the
cousins are older and have real world experience, so who is to say they are not better suited,
y'know? I hear they are really tight though, like closer than brothers, so it’ll be interesting to
see how the—”

Nodding attentively, Taehyung takes the lid off of the discarded Americano. Two things catch
him off guard just as he takes a careful sip—first, the possibility that he may have brewed
coffee for a twenty-one-year old who was set to inherit billions of US dollars; second, and
more importantly, there really should not have been any reason for him to do so because
Yeonjun did get Jungkook’s order right. Taehyung instantly recognizes the heavier nutty base
and the soft undertones of sweetness of the triple shot. This is his morning pill, the only
surefire way to jumpstart his brain at the ass crack of dawn.

“Taehyung,” Yeonjun calls. “You okay, dude?”

“Uh, yeah, yes.”

“You sure? You were frowning so hard I thought it was something I said.”

“Yeah, no,” Taehyung says, reassuringly. “I was thinking about the logistics of the move. I
haven’t started packing so there’s just a lot to do.”

“Aren’t you moving like next week ?” Yeonjun balks. “What the fuck?”
Taehyung has been living out of the two suitcases he lugged from Seoul his Freshman year.
While his American roommates adorned their dorm rooms with stiff Ikea futons, mini
fridges, and many such non-essential items, Taehyung abstained because he knew he had
nowhere to dump those things when time came to move. No family home that wasn’t
thousands of miles away, no money to pay for storage pods, no stability of any sort.

So he made do with hanging printouts of his favorite paintings on his empty walls, printed
them for free from Butler. He pulled them off the walls at the end of each school year, stuck
them inside a plastic folder. They moved with him, wherever to next.

“I don’t have a lot,” He tells Yeonjun, chuckling. “You know how it is with international
students.”

Yeonjun was born in San Jose, California to first generation Korean immigrants.

To him, home is a six hour plane ride. It is going back in time, three hours he is rewarded
with upon landing to make up for lost time.

To Taehyung, home is halfway across the world. It is losing twelve hours because New York
is always staggering behind Seoul.

“Still, bro,” Yeonjun says, concerned. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung smiles, finds that he means it sincerely. He hasn’t known Yeonjun for
long, but the rising Sophomore never slacks and is easy to talk to.

“Where did you say you were subletting? On West 117th?”

“Yeah, between Adam Clayton Powell and Malcom X.”

“Oh that’s just a few blocks over. Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Guess I lucked out.”

Taehyung doesn’t tell Yeonjun that he is subletting someone's couch. It’s all he could afford
with the stipend he’s receiving from the university for his minimum wage internship. Well,
that’s not completely true. He could have found something better, something more dignified
than crashing in some random strangers' shared space, but he knows he needs to save as
much of his $5000 stipend as humanly possible. He doesn’t have a job lined up for fall. If
something doesn’t pan out soon, he may very well be relying on that money to get him
through the rest of the year.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying before?” Taehyung finds himself asking.

“Before?” Yeonjun puzzles in the way that a simple tangent in a conversation can completely
throw off your train of thought. “Oh yeah! The Jeons are apparently gathering tomorrow for
the old man’s will reading. People think Jungkook is going to inherit the biggest chunk.”

“Hmm,” Taehyung muses. “Good for him, I guess.”

“Can you imagine, man? Jungkook could probably afford to pay off everyone’s student
loans,” Yeonjun says, reverently. “Everyone at Columbia, at least.”

Taehyung can’t imagine that, not while he has less than two hundred dollars in his checking
account. He is one of the Shift Managers at the Blue Java inside Butler Library. It took him
two years to work up to the position. It earns him two additional dollars on every hour he
puts in—two more than the minimum wage in the state of New York.

He also cannot comprehend why Jungkook would lie about Yeonjun messing up his order.
Taehyung may not be a coffee connoisseur but he thinks he comes close within the
constraints of his means.

“He could ,” Taehyung says, emphatically. “But he won’t.”

“I would if I was in his place. Just think about it, what’s the point of being rich if you can’t
flaunt it?”

“I mean, you could show it off in ways that do not involve paying hundreds of millions of
dollars for the benefit of people you don’t even know.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Taehyung laments on it, Yeonjun’s frivolous claim. Depending on how he looks at it, it could
be considered deceptively noble or plain cunning. The idea that someone would carry out an
entirely selfless act with an inherently selfish cause. If the haves chose to flaunt their wealth
by dispersing it, lifting up the have-nots , the world would likely be a better place. So when
all is said and done, is the good outcome sullied if the intent had been self-serving?

Does it even matter?

❝「☁」❞

The days are longer now that they’re well into May. It’s almost nine by the time Taehyung
finishes his shift at the library, but the sky is only just turning orange. He would normally
help Yeonjun close shop, but Yeonjun wouldn’t let him tonight. He seemed stressed by proxy,
insisted Taehyung go straight back to his apartment, and start packing.

Maybe Taehyung should have told him about his two suitcases, made sure there wasn't much
to pack anyway.
Campus has always been a sight for sore eyes, but it’s particularly spectacular in spring. It
stopped raining this afternoon after days of intermittent showers, just in time for
commencement. Billowy, white tents—propped up in the South Lawns for the ceremony—
are stark against the well-manicured carpet of vibrant, green grass. Under the watchful eye of
the dwindling sun, gently swaying tulips and daffodils illume the pathways they line. A cool
breeze blows the bangs off his forehead just as the crisp smell of cut grass and wet earth hits
his nostrils. Taehyung has a lot of mixed, complicated feelings about his time at Columbia,
but he would be lying if he said he was not going to miss the thrill of physically existing in
such a dreamscape of a campus.

The walk back to his apartment is over too quickly. He is climbing up the steps to the front
door when he hears an unfamiliar voice call him.

“Mr. Taehyung Kim?”

Taehyung’s steps pause. He turns, does not recognize the man dressed in a sharp, well-
tailored dark suit. “Yes?”

“There is a matter of great importance that needs your immediate attention, Mr. Kim,” He
states with a sternness that perfectly suits his outfit. “I must ask that you come with me.”

Taehyung’s first thought is that he is being abducted. Then, his rationale kicks in, and he
quickly shakes the idea off. He has nothing—literally, nothing— of material value to offer. In
fact, he’s pretty sure if there was a measuring scale for the most appealing abduction victim,
he’d rank dead last.

“Um,” Taehyung hesitates, brows furrowing. “Do I know you?”

“Ah, I should have started with an introduction,” The man laughs, the first indication that he
is not an unfeeling android. “I am Hoseok Jung. I’m part of Mr. Ilsung Jeon’s legal counsel.”

The man extends a hand out. Taehyung has to climb down the few steps he’d climbed to
shake it.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, dubiously. “Are you sure you have the right Taehyung Kim? I
think there are a few at Columbia. It’s not an uncommon name.”

Now that Taehyung knows the man is Korean—though that’s probably followed by American
if his clean, standard American accent is any indication—Taehyung feels more confident
about conversing.

“Hm, let me see here,” Hoseok pulls a folded piece of paper out of an inside pocket, and
starts reading from it. “Are you Taehyung Kim, born December 30, 1999, graduating Senior
at Columbia University, double majoring in Economics and Computer Science, originally
from Daegu, South Korea, arrived in the US on August 5, 2019–”

“Hold on,” Taehyung interrupts, unease twisting in his gut. “How do you have all of that
information?”
Hoseok tucks the paper back into the same pocket, and adjusts the lapels of his suit. “Like I
said, I am part of Mr. Jeon’s legal counsel, and I have been tasked with transporting you to
his main residence in Midtown.”

“W-why would you do that?”

“If you just follow me, Mr. Kim, I can explain everything to you on the ride over,” Hoseok
says, pointing at a sleek black car parked across the street.

Taehyung is definitely not being abducted, but maybe he is getting deported? But that can’t
be true either. He is here on a valid F1-Student visa, and he has done nothing that could
jeopardize that status.

“Taehyung,” Hoseok says, smiling. “Can I call you Taehyung?”

He nods, mutely.

“Okay, Taehyung,” Hoseok continues, “Your presence is needed at the residence of the late
Mr. Ilsung Jeon. Mr. Jeon specifically requested your attendance at the event of his will
reading. That is happening tonight.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you get in? It’ll make sense soon enough, I promise.”

❝「☁」❞

When Taehyung started his day that morning—blanketed by a raggedy comforter, on a single
bed with a squeaky box spring—he did not think he would be ending it inside a penthouse on
Billionaire’s Row.

Taehyung sits on a plush, velvet armchair that is an almost offensively bright mustard yellow,
inside what appears to be the living room of Jeon Ilsung’s penthouse. It’s an open floor
design, so he can eye the enormous dining area as well as the professional grade kitchen to
the side. The marble floor under his feet is so polished and shiny, he feels like someone is
going to point a scathing finger at his dusty shoes, and ask him to leave the premises. He half
hopes that is exactly what happens so he does not have to deal with whatever is about to
transpire.

Close to a dozen pairs of eyes study him as he fidgets in his seat. He is trying his best to
avoid any sort of eye contact but a few quick glances across the room tells him all he needs to
know.

Taehyung is not welcome here.

Some of them look at him with abject disdain, others in puzzlement like he’s a curious
creature never before seen. All of them perceive him with suspicion laced in their gazes.

Taehyung knows next to nothing about the Jeon family, but from the looks of it, this seems
like a gathering of the core family members. An older man and two women, who look close
in age to his own parents, sit across from Taehyung on a lush, leather couch he could not
dream of subletting even in his wildest dreams. They are dressed in various shades of
expensive, more fitting for a cocktail party than a somber will reading. Behind them, a
middle-aged man is pacing across the length of the room, palms sliding against each other
like he’s trying to gather some warmth.

Across the room, standing in front of one of the floor to ceiling glass windows that wrap
around the perimeter of the penthouse, are a couple of guys who don’t seem much older than
him. They look like they have had a long day at work—their suit jacket discarded and sleeves
rolled up to the elbows.

Jungkook Jeon sits to Taehyung's left on the very edge of a sectional chaise. He has his back
turned to the room’s occupants, leaning forward with elbows pressed over his knees, as he
furiously types away on his phone.

When Hoseok had brought Taehyung in, Jungkook had spared him a single glance before
turning back to his phone. The complete lack of recognition in his eyes had weirdly stung.
Not really because he wanted Jungkook to actually know who he was. Taehyung just wanted
some sort of an acknowledgment that it wasn’t the first time they had crossed paths; that
Taehyung had punched in countless orders of an Americano, triple shot into the cash register
for him; that Taehyung was a person too, tangible with skin and bones, ripe with ideas and
ambition and tenacity, and therefore, worthy of remembrance.

A young girl is slumped next to Jungkook on the sectional. She seems to be even more
walled off, a pair of headphones over her ears and a Nintendo Switch balanced on her lap.

The last person Taehyung notices is an older gentleman with a headful of silver hair. He is
conspicuously isolated from everyone else, standing further back in the dining area. With one
hand curled over the back of a chair and a terrible posture, he seems to carry himself with less
importance than the others.

The silence in the penthouse is loud, only disrupted by the susurrus tones of the two men by
the windows. Taehyung is not sure if they’re whispering on his account or if the rest of the
folks in the room are not supposed to hear them either.

There is a distinct ding of the elevator’s arrival, and all eyes flit to the front door. Taehyung
expects a knock, but the door swings open without any preamble. Hoseok steps in first,
followed by a man who looks to be in his fifties, dressed in a clean cut suit and carrying a
briefcase. Taehyung supposes that is the attorney who would be reading the will tonight.
“Good evening, everyone,” The man greets, looking around the room and nodding. “I
apologize for the delay, but we should now be ready to begin.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” It’s the man who had been previously pacing. He now looms over the
back of the couch seating the man and two women, who look like they could be his sisters.
“Let’s go already.”

“Must you speak that way, Manny?” One of the women seated on the couch in front of him
admonishes.

Taehyung catches the man rolling his eyes, but he does not offer a counter.

“Alright.” The attorney walks up to the far back of the living room so he has a clear view of
everyone in attendance. The two men standing by the windows move over and sit on the
sectional, just as Jungkook turns around to face the room.

“For those I have not met before, my name is Pilsung Park, and I am the attorney who will be
sharing plans for the late Ilsung Jeon’s estate,” He says, looking straight at Taehyung.

Taehyung wonders if he is expected to introduce himself in return, but Pilsung moves on

without skipping a beat.

“We are gathered here today upon the behest of Mr. Ilsung Jeon, Founder and former CEO
and Chairman of Jeon Incorporated,” He says, handing his briefcase to Hoseok. Hoseok sets
the briefcase on a side table, pops it open with a satisfying click.

“Mr. Jeon requested the presence of the following persons at the event of the reading of his
will,” Pilsung announces, taking a sleek, black folder that Hoseok hands over. He cracks the
folder open, and starts reading, “Misun Jeon, Mina Jeon, Manshik Jeon, Seokjin Kim,
Namjoon Kim, Jungkook Jeon, Nora Sung, Beomseok Kwon, and Taehyung Kim.”

He looks up and around the room as if he’s doing a mental headcount. Once satisfied, he
continues, “I shall now be reading the last will and testament of Mr. Jeon.”

Someone sighs, followed by an exasperated Finally .

“I, Ilsung Jeon, resident in the City of New York, County of New York, State of New York,
being of sound mind, not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the
nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, do hereby make, publish,
and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament.”

The will makes use of legal jargon, some of which flies over Taehyung’s head, but in general,
he thinks he is following along. Except for the part about why a complete stranger he has
never met would want him, a literal nobody, here amongst his family.

“I nominate and appoint Beomseok Kwon as the Personal Representative of my estate, and
name him Trustee for the purposes of my will’s execution.” Pilsung pauses to look at the old
gentleman standing in the dining area, and offers a curt nod.
“I devise and bequeath my estate, including but not limited to all physical properties,
ownership stakes, and monetary worth, to be dispersed of in the following way—”

“To my two daughters, Misun Jeon and Mina Jeon, I leave an annuity of 3 million dollars
each.”

The two women seated on the couch—that Taehyung assumes are Misun Jeon and Mina Jeon
—betray no emotions. The man next to them, however, scoffs.

“Additionally, I bequeath to my oldest, Misun Jeon, the residence at 132 E 62nd St, New
York, New York. To my third child, Mina Jeon, I leave the residence at 8961 SW 108th St,
Miami, Florida.”

“To my youngest son, Manshik Jeon,” Pilsung continues, but not before glancing at the man
that had been pacing across the room. “I leave the property at 223 Lexington Ave, New York,
New York. Upon continued possession of the aforementioned property for ten years, he may
receive an annuity of 250 thousand dollars from thereon.”

“Fuck!” Manshik Jeon yells, prompting Taehyung to almost jump out of his own skin. He
looks around the room, hoping no one witnessed the way he had flinched, but unsurprisingly,
Manshik has everyone’s attention. Surprisingly, nobody looks particularly put off or upset.

“Manny,” The older of the Jeon daughters warns. “This is not the time.”

“Easy for you to say, noona,” Manshik seethes, hands resting on his hips. “He left you and
Mina noona plenty. No idiotic conditions either.”

“You know as well as we do that this is not what any of us wanted,” Misun snaps, sending a
withering glare her brother’s way.

“You know what?” Manshik spits, stomping to the foyer and snatching a leather jacket off the
coat hanger. “It was my mistake to assume he’d come around in his old age. Clearly, I was
wrong.”

Pilsung speaks, agitated but voice still firm. “Mr. Jeon, if you will please—”

“You will be hearing from my lawyer,” Manshik interrupts, menacingly wagging an index
finger at Pilsung. “Thanks for absolutely nothing.”

The bang of the door is deafening in his wake.

For a few moments, no one moves or speaks. Taehyung sneaks a glance at Jungkook, the only
person he can claim to even remotely know here. He expects Jungkook’s reaction to help him
make sense of this circus. But Jungkook is still looking ahead at Pilsung. He looks the way he
always has. A straight face like an empty canvas.

Pilsung sighs, looking he is not particularly surprised himself. He clears his throat, and says
in a stern note, “I should mention at this point that Mr. Jeon has stipulated that any
challengers of this will shall immediately forfeit the gifts bequeathed to them through the
same will.”
“Moving on,” He says, taking a deep breath. “To my grandchildren—Seokjin Kim, Namjoon
Kim, Jungkook Jeon, and Nora Sung, I leave my ownership stakes in Jeon, Incorporated, to
be divided amongst them in equal parts. In addition, I leave each of them the trust I set up
upon their respective births, each amounting to 25 million dollars apiece, to be accessible
when or after they turn twenty-five.”

Taehyung has never heard a more outrageous statement. He manages to suppress the gasp
before it can leave his mouth, but his eyebrows shoot up to his forehead of their own accord.

25 million dollars.

For each of them.

It’s such an incomprehensible amount of money that he expects people to jump out of their
seats, fists pumping. However, there is no such celebratory outburst. Ilsung Jeon’s
grandchildren look unsurprised, unaffected even.

“To my dear friend and confidante, Beomseok Kwon,” Taehyung hears Pilsung carrying on,
and snaps his attention back to him. “I leave a one time gift of 1 million dollars.”

The attorney nods at the elderly gentleman standing by himself in the dining area.

Pilsung turns to Taehyung. He offers Taehyung the barest of smiles, straight lips bracketed by
forced curves of his wrinkled cheeks. Then, he says something that very nearly knocks the
wind out of him.

“To Taehyung Kim, I leave a one time sum of 5 million dollars."

Taehyung’s first thought is that this is either a very vivid dream, or worse, an elaborate, cruel
prank. In his gut, however, he knows it’s neither. He knows this is real. He feels it in the way
the back of his neck is now marred by goosebumps, the prickle of sweat that has broken out
along his hairline, the gasp stuck in his throat, straining to slip out.

For the first time that evening, Pilsung has taken a deliberate pause, leaving room for
comments or questions. This must be as much a shock to Ilsung Jeon’s family as it is to
Taehyung. Maybe it’s even more shocking to them because they actually knew the man. How
does one even rationalize such an inane choice coming from their father, their grandfather?

Taehyung wants to look around the room to gauge reactions, but he does not dare. He stays
frozen for fear that moving even a hair out of inch will dispel the stupor, that it will be taken
as the green light for everyone to start flinging stones at him.

“The sum is awarded with the provision that he shall complete the task detailed in the letter
my Trustee will hand to him. This task must be completed within 1 year from the day of the
will being read. In addition, he will be awarded a living stipend of $10,000 per month for the
duration of this 1 year so long as he commits to fulfilling the condition set forth in the
provision.”

Kim Taehyung is poor.

He has never not been poor.

The realization first hit him in elementary school. When his classmates were learning the joys
of hand painting and play doh, Taehyung learned his family could not afford to fund a school
trip to an Alpaca farm in the outskirts of Seoul. Always a sharp child, he immediately knew
to pretend that he did not want to go after all. His classmates ridiculing him for being
frightened of harmless, fluffy alpacas was a chip he was happy to bear if it meant saving his
parents the heartache of disappointing their son.

“All remaining assets of mine, in any form and wherever situated, will be parceled into two
equal parts. The first part shall go to The Mirae Foundation for continued support of the
causes they champion.”

Taehyung does not know what happiness means. Through twenty-one years of his life, it has
proven to be an entirely elusive emotion. He has had moments of joy. But those are too
fleeting, barely sticking around long enough to leave a lasting impression. Sometimes he
rationalizes; maybe that’s exactly what happiness is. Ephemeral sparks that light up your
world and bring short but no less important bursts of elation so potent that the lingering
memory of it is enough to keep your heart pumping. It should not matter that you are doused
in darkness the rest of the time, so long as you are familiar with the sweet taste of what you
anticipate.

Truthfully, he finds it revolting. The idea that happiness fundamentally hinges on deprivation.
That in order to recognize how good you feel, you must feel crippling devastation first.

“I bequeath the second part, the entirety of my residuary estate,” Taehyung hears Pilsung say.
“To my grandson, Jungkook Jeon, with the provision that he shall complete the task detailed
in the letter my Trustee will hand to him. This task must be completed within 1 year from the
day of the will being read.”

Maybe he will never quite know what true happiness is. Maybe happiness is a hoax, bolstered
by wishful thinking and completely unmoored from reality. Maybe happiness will be
disappointing.

The only thing Taehyung knows for certain about happiness is that he is now, through the
hands of an unfathomable miracle, teetering on a precipice that may place it within his grasp.

Taehyung turns to Jungkook. Their eyes meet, not for the first time. Strangely though,
Taehyung feels like Jungkook is seeing him for the first time. Perceiving him in the way he
wanted to be perceived. As not someone who is not entirely insignificant.

❝「☁」❞
Chapter End Notes

🤪
hi there! i expect this will be a pretty long, chaptered story so buckle up for a crazy ride
ahead. in the meantime, i would really love to hear what you think.
 Cloudy With a Chance of Indecision
Chapter Summary

“Is this a marriage proposal, Jungkook Jeon?” Taehyung asks.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Jungkook replies, with a nonchalance that gets on
Taehyung’s nerves.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

Jungkook-ah,

You must help Kim Taehyung, aforementioned in my Last Will and Testament, secure
permanent residency in the United States.

I know you will make me proud.

I already am.

할아버지

The letter Ilsung Jeon left his grandson sits on the table, unfolded and perused. The enclosed
words are confounding. Taehyung thought he had gotten the biggest shock of his night from
the moment his name was read from the will, but the letters may take the cake instead.

His own letter feels hefty in his hands. They contain a single request but may as well weigh
as heavy as five million dollars in cash.

Kim Taehyung,

I ask that you live with my grandson, Jungkook Jeon, at his primary residence for a continued
duration of eleven months.
Jeon Ilsung

“I don’t understand,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

They are seated around a glossy, oak dining table, the lawyers on one side, and the will’s
Trustee and core beneficiaries—Beomseok, Jungkook, and incredulously, Taehyung—on the
other.

As soon as Pilsung had finished reading the primary will, people had steadily trickled out.
The women—Misun and Mina Jeon—stuck around to chat with Pilsung for a bit. The man
seated next to them, possibly one of their husband, kept giving Taehyung dirty looks like he
was at a party he wasn’t invited to. Well, he did receive an invitation so Taehyung didn’t shy
away from glaring back at the man. The jury was out on whether or not he deserved the
invitation, but that was a different question altogether.

Eventually, they left too. Mina had fixed Taehyung with curious eyes on her way out. If
Taehyung had not been experiencing everything in slow motion like he was in a haze, maybe
he would have felt a little rattled at that. But as it were, it really did not matter to him what
these snooty, rich people thought of him. He just wanted to get out of there, start to make
sense of all of it.

“Mr. Jeon left strict instructions on—”

“I don’t understand ,” Jungkook repeats, his words meaner this time.

Pilsung sighs, takes his glasses off and sets them on the table like someone who’s not getting
paid enough to do this. “Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to divulge any information outside
of what’s presented in the will. Your grandfather in no uncertain terms stated that this was
what wanted from you.”

Taehyung is very certain that he does indeed get paid enough, so he has little sympathy for
the man.

“Did you know about this?” Jungkook turns to Beomseok. His words are still frenzied, but
the mean edge to them is apparently only reserved for Pilsung.

Taehyung has always known getting a Green Card for permanent residency in America would
be an uphill battle. The system is set up in such a way that the inconvenience and tedium of
fulfilling the requirements alone would discourage many people from applying. He always
assumed he’d have to pursue it through employment, which is a big gamble in itself.
Employment visas are determined through a lottery system. The recipients are not picked on
the basis of merit or need. In fact, they are not picked on the basis of any measurable criteria.

It’s all down to probability, down to whether or not your application happens to be part of a
small subset that gets randomly selected by a computer system. Taehyung has played plenty
of risky hands in his short life, but they were driven by informed, deliberate assessments. He
studied the factors in the equation to imagine all possible variants of outcomes, and then
made his choice.

With this, Taehyung has no control over any element, not even one.

If Jungkook had to help Taehyung get a Green Card, going through the route of employment
would be a shot in a virtually endless pit of darkness. Even if Taehyung got picked by the
lottery, the process for qualifying and applying for permanent residency would take years .

The constraint of time left only one option on the table.

“Jungkook,” Beomseok says, his soft voice an unspoken plea in itself. “This was Harabeoji's
last wish.”

Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung seated next to Beomseok, his eyes dark pools of ire.
“How did you know him?”

“I—,” Taehyung struggles, “did not.”

“Bullshit,” Jungkook spits.

“Why would I lie?” Taehyung’s response is instantaneous. It comes reflexively.

“I don’t know. But I also don’t know why Harabeoji would leave such a nonsensical clause in
his will.”

There is an insinuation in Jungkook’s words, an ugly assumption that Taehyung abhors.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” Taehyung asks, resentment bubbling in his chest.

Through the dizzying absurdity of the entire night, Taehyung has stayed reticent and
reserved. In part because it still feels like he’s in the middle of a dream—a cruel one if he
can’t reap the fruits of its bloom—so the dread that it’ll all dissipate into wisps of smoke
inside his head if he rocks the boat is paralyzing. That doesn’t mean he is going to let this guy
accuse him of things he had no part in.

“You know damn well what I’m trying to say,” Jungkook hisses.

Taehyung steels himself, jaws clenching. “If you think I somehow manipulated your
grandfather into including me in his will, then you are grossly mistaken. I have never met the
man, I didn't even really know who he was until today.”

“Well, he is not here to refute you, so you can say whatever the fuck you want.”

Taehyung feels the injustice of the accusation settle into his bones atop the lifelong
resentment of having not enough, of being not enough. Jungkook’s immediate conclusion—
that a poor person would unquestionably be the one to take advantage of the rich one—makes
his skin hot with anger. He wants to rip this guy a new one for even implying Taehyung
would do such a heinous thing.
But his bruised pride aside, he is also wary of the stakes, of the amount he stands to gain
from this transaction. He could just up and leave this very moment. There is no one tying him
to the chair he sits on, forcing him to listen to a stranger assume the worst of him.

He doesn’t want to do that though. He wants to stay, wants to make sure he fully understands
how he can secure the fortune he has been named privy to. And therein lies the fallacy of his
quiet fury—Jungkook is not completely off the mark. Taehyung would and will take
advantage of this unthinkable situation to come out the other end a person who would
hopefully not need to make such shameless choices moving forward. He knows that about
himself like he knows the sun is a universal constant, like the moon is stained by craters, like
the stars burn brighter as they approach their end. He knows that about himself like it is an
irrefutable fact of life. Because it is.

“Boys,” Beomseok interrupts, looking between the two of them. “I can assure you that
nothing untowardly or nefarious occurred to shape Mr. Jeon’s will.”

“So just tell us why he did it?” Jungkook spits out.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Beomseok doesn’t budge. “What I can tell you is that there is only one
way for you two to complete the provisions for your inheritance.”

Beomseok looks to Pilsung, as if to hand him a baton.

Pilsung considers Jungkook and Taehyung warily, and says, “You must get married.”

Taehyung had already figured it out but hearing it verbalized still makes his head reel.

Jungkook’s reaction is more volatile. He sneers at Taehyung, not Pilsung, and storms out of
the room.

❝「☁」❞

It’s well past midnight by the time Taehyung makes it back to his dorm. He is ten thousand
dollars richer. It’s real. Or will be soon.

His understanding of the situation is elemental. Clouds saturated with an absurd amount of
money loom over the horizon. Gearing up for a downpour in a year’s time. It does not feel
like it, but it is real.

As most immigrants do, Taehyung came to America with hopes of a better life. A place that
was built on the haunches of merit-based principles. Merit, that Taehyung had accumulated
plenty of in spite of the consistent shadow of his poverty.

Unfortunately, his hopes and dreams of a more dignified life in America had been dashed on
the very first day on campus. Disaster had struck when, in the spirit of acclimating to this
new place, he had tried to engage a fellow Freshmen at Orientation in the strange American
phenomenon that is ‘small talk’.

“Do you have the time?” Taehyung had asked the boy sitting next to him. He knew the time
already. The importance of punctuality had been instilled in him since he was a little boy. He
just couldn’t think of anything else to ask at the moment.

The Ralph Lauren polo wearing blond had stared at him oddly. Then, he’d laughed like
Taehyung had said something funny, and said, “No, I do not have a dime .”

The mortification had been instantaenous. Taehyung cracked half a smile at the boy and
turned away before his whole face turned beet red in shame.

Later the same night, as he tossed and turned trying to get comfortable on his new dorm bed,
his embarrassment morphed into righteous anger. The boy had known. He had known what
Taehyung meant, and still decided to be a dick.

That was one of the very first things Taehyung learned in America. He may not stand out as
conspicuously as he did for his more worn clothes or a complete lack of expensive
extracurricular activities in his specs, but his accent was a blaring marker of his status as a
foreigner. An outsider. Someone who apparently was not welcome in all spaces.

The air is chillier when he gets off the train. He was already feeling bone cold by the time he
left Ilsung Jeon’s penthouse, so now he is physically shivering. He pulls the cuffs of his long
sleeves to warm his palms as he climbs up the stairs of the 116th Street station.

“Saks Fifth Avenue.”

Taehyung startles. The street is not well lit, but Jungkook’s voice and appearance is hard to
miss.

Jungkook stands leaning against a wall right across from the station entrance.

“Huh?” Taehyung replies, intelligently.

“You need warmer clothes. You should shop at Saks Fifth Avenue,” Jungkook says, nicely
enough. Then, he sneers and adds, “With all that money you now have.”

Taehyung feels the sting like a slap against his cheek. The cold has got nothing on Jungkook
Jeon. His words whip harder. He was always cold when he ordered his coffee, but Taehyung
had never seen him be this outrightly rude. He wonders if Jungkook even knows Taehyung is
the same guy who’s rang up his order countless times at the Butler coffee shop.

“You really came all the way to Morningside to talk shit?” Taehyung asks.

“I live down the block,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “I was waiting for you though.”
Taehyung had gotten on the first train out of 28th St. Jungkook must’ve had a private ride.
There’s no other way Jungkook would have gotten here ahead of him. No one had offered a
ride to Taehyung on his way out. No one cared if Taehyung returned to his apartment.

“What do you want?” Taehyung suddenly feels drained. His brain had been working a mile a
minute trying to make sense of everything all evening. At the sight of Jungkook, looking
some type of odd combination of angry and amused, the fight just completely leaves his
shivering body.

Jungkook stares at him. Those round eyes pinning him down, trying to crack him open like a
book, and make the words bleed out.

He looks away, huffs out a big breath, and turns back to him. “The will,” He says simply.

Taehyung does not need any convincing. He has been game to do whatever the heck it would
take from the moment the will was read. But Jungkook doesn’t know that. He will need to
pry Taehyung’s pride out of his cold, dead hands if that’s what his intent is.

So he says, “What about it?”

Jungkook gives him a disdainful look. One that probably says some variation of Are you
fucking with me right now?

Yes, Taehyung would say if Jungkook asked with his words.

But Jungkook spells it out like Taehyung is a dumbass instead. “We have a shared cause in
case you have forgotten in the—,” He pauses to look at his phone. It lights up the fairly dim
corner they are standing on and casts a white light on Jungkook’s face. “—last half hour.”

“Is this a marriage proposal, Jungkook Jeon?” Taehyung asks. The words have a teasing lilt
to them, but Taehyung is actually genuinely curious.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Jungkook replies, with a nonchalance that gets on
Taehyung’s nerves. “I think of it more as a business partnership. It’ll obviously be a marriage
only in name.”

Taehyung thinks of his parents. When he was a kid with too many questions and no
inhibitions, he often asked them how babies were made. They cleverly dodged the question
for a long time until one day, his mother got fed up and told him the story of how she met his
father in high school, how they fell in love after starting off on the wrong foot, and how they
made Taehyung with the abundance of love they had between the two of them. Babies are
made with love, she said. Taehyung with the overwhelming affection he felt for his parents,
could imagine how the emotion twice fold could create a new life.

He figured out the truth not long after, but he never doubted that his parents really did love
each other that fiercely, that generously. They had so little, but still managed to keep
Taehyung, and later his younger siblings, warm, well-fed, and never wanting for care.
He never had any grand delusions about falling in love himself. He hasn’t given much
thought to the idea of marrying someone, beyond the requisite expectation that he would get
married one day. Hearing Jungkook’s marriage proposal—dry and devoid of any sense of
romance—is disconcerting.

It fully sinks in at that moment.

That he had been so completely taken by what he stood to gain from the will that he had
completely overlooked what he would have to give up in return. There isn’t particularly a
single romantic bone in Taehyung’s body. He isn’t waiting for any one person to come sweep
him off his feet or to do the sweeping for someone else. But still—

“What’s holding you back? I know you need the money,” Jungkook says, coolly. When
Taehyung raises a brow, he clarifies. “I borrowed your file from Hoseok.”

It’s ludicrous to think that Taehyung now has a ‘file’ with this dead, rich man’s lawyers. The
outrageousness of the entire evening is catching up to him, making him feel rightfully
agitated.

“So you think I’ll do anything for money?” Taehyung asks, his anger escalating. “Because
I’m poor?”

Truth is Taehyung did believe just a couple of minutes ago that he would probably do just
about anything for the amount of money that’s currently at stake. But the talk of what exactly
he would need to do to get there is making him take pause for the first time, and consider the
repercussions of his actions.

“Of course,” Jungkook says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You have nothing
to lose. And everything to gain.”

“I could say the same for you,” Taehyung challenges, with his chin raised.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“But you clearly know everything about me, huh?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be, Taehyung.”

“No.”

“Yeah, you did strike me as a very stubborn—”

“I mean no. I’m not doing this.”

The words are out of his mouth before he knows it.

“What?”

“I am sorry, Jungkook. I don’t know who your grandfather was or what he intended with this
deranged game of cupid, but I can’t do this. You can keep your money, or your grandfather
can keep it. In spirit, I guess. I don’t need any of it.”

Taehyung suddenly feels nauseous. He can’t believe he is walking away from this. He is
going to be kicking himself at some point in the future, definitely sooner rather than later. But
at this moment, this very one when the wind is beginning to pick up and his nose is numb
from the cold and Jungkook is looking at him like he has spontaneously grown a third limb,
he just can’t do it.

“Are you seeing anyone? Is that it?” Jungkook asks, brows furrowed in consternation.

“What?” Taehyung is taken aback. “No, that’s, that’s not it.”

“What is it then?”

“Nothing. I just—,” Taehyung says. “It’s late. I need to get back.”

As far as avoidance goes, this is not one of his best showings. He is quite literally walking
away from what is very likely the biggest opportunity he will ever come across in his entire
life.

And Jungkook does not follow.

❝「☁」❞

The slates on the blinds are turned up. It’s stark bright outside, but Taehyung stews in near
complete darkness inside his room, under the warmth of his lumpy comforter. He hears the
beeps and honks of the bustling morning outside, but the sound seems to filter in from a far
off world. Like he’s underwater, and the world outside will carry on regardless of whether or
not he resurfaces. He has work in an hour, but that feels like an inconsequential thing right
now.

It’s been ten hours, give or take, since he had been told he stands to inherit five million
dollars from a man he had never known. A man he has no conceivable connection to. The
first thing Taehyung did when he arrived back at his apartment the night before was google
Ilsung Jeon. The man may have once been renowned for popularizing an important facet of
Korean cuisine but in more recent years, he’d gotten some bad press for his increasingly
erratic behavior. Against better judgment, Taehyung had gone down the rabbit hole of tabloid
magazines, and now he knew far too much about the Jeon family.

Ilsung, the aging patriarch, was eccentric and unstable in his last years. His wife, Mirae Park,
had passed away fifteen years ago, not long after their oldest son and daughter-in-law—
Jungkook's parents—died in a car crash in Astoria.

Jungkook was six when that happened.

There wasn’t much on Ilsung Jeon’s two daughters but his second son and youngest
offspring, Manshik Jeon, was apparently a notorious gambler. He had squandered away
everything he got his hands on, and went on to publicly denounce his father for being
negligent and “methodically mean”. It didn’t make much of a splash in the tabloid world.
Rich people acting poorly, especially publicly, was the norm, not the exception. Manshik’s
drunken rant after being kicked out of a Miami casino got a handful of tabloid blogs talking.
But it was radio silence on the problematic Jeon son after that.

Ilsung Jeon’s other grandchildren—the two men, and teenager who had also been present at
the will reading—didn’t have much information on them. The oldest, Seokjin Kim, had
graduated first of his class from MIT and worked at NASA. Namjoon Kim, his younger
brother spearheaded an art preservation non-profit, and was gaining some attention for being
an art collector himself. Nothing else on any of them. Not even Jungkook.

Taehyung only has more questions on the other side of his Google bender. His head is a mess,
his feelings loopy like an untidy cloud of pencil scratches. In theory, there is no question
about the choice. He is an opportunistic person by nature. By default of growing up around
extreme scarcity. He’s made it this far on scraps and handouts. And what’s this if not just
another handout?

He manages to drag himself out of bed. His room is in a state of disarray, his two suitcases
laying open on the floor. Ironically, the thought that his physical environment quite accurately
mirrors his mental state crosses his mind. His body the surface light reflects off of, the only
thing he seems to have any control over.

He showers hoping it will make him feel better. And it does, but it’s not enough. It’s such a
minute improvement it almost annoys him undoing the little bit of turmoil he’d managed to
shake off.

By the time he’s running across College Walk, at risk of breaking his streak of never being
late for any of his shifts, the physical strain has somewhat removed the entire ordeal from his
mind.

Taehyung swings the glass door open, and spies Yeonjun leaning against the checkout
counter. He looks to be in no rush but still, Taehyung doesn’t want to be the asshole who
makes people work past the time they are getting paid for.

“Hey, I’m here!” Taehyung says, pulling his hoodie over his head and throwing it in the back
room along with his backpack. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Taehyung!” Yeonjun says, smiling broadly. “How’s it going?”

“Feel free to show up a few minutes later on your next shift,” Taehyung offers, tying an apron
around his waist.
“Yeah, man. It’s all good.” Yeonjun brushes him off, then conspiratorially adds. “Guess who
was looking for you?”

Taehyung raises a brow, still panting a little.

“Jungkook Jeon!” Yeonjun exclaims. “How do you know him?”

So he did know Taehyung worked here. Taehyung feels an odd sense of satisfaction that he is
not in the mood to decipher. “Um, I don’t.”

“Then, why is he staring at you?”

Taehyung turns in time to see Jungkook stand up from one of the chairs in the seating area.
He hadn’t even noticed him there.

“And walking towards you?”

Taehyung shushes Yeonjun. “For his triple shot, of course.”

Jungkook doesn’t walk up to the cash register though. He walks to the side counter where
they set the orders once they are ready.

“Can I talk to you?” Jungkook asks, voice even.

“I’m working,” Taehyung states, thankful for the excuse.

“I don’t mind covering for you,” Yeonjun eagerly offers, looking inordinately interested in
their interaction.

Junkook eyes Taehyung meaningfully. If the way he is tapping his fingers on the counter is an
indication, Jungkook has likely run out of patience.

Taehyung grits his teeth. Yeonjun is a good kid but he kinda wants to throttle him right now.
He mutters an insincere thanks , and walks out the side to follow Jungkook. He strides to a
deserted corner, still visible from the coffee shop. Taehyung quickly glances back and sees
Yeonjun openly staring at their retreating figures. Great, now he has to come up with an
excuse to explain this too.

“What is it gonna take?” Jungkook suddenly whirls, causing Taehyung to almost bump into
him.

“Huh?”

“What’s it gonna take for you to agree?” Jungkook asks. He looks more determined than last
night, like he has no time or words left to waste.

Taehyung is not any less conflicted. He does not have an answer for Jungkook, but he does
feel a great surge of annoyance at his implication that he can buy Taehyung’s compliance.
“What are you gonna offer?” Taehyung asks, not bothering to veil his annoyance. “More
money?”

“If that’s what you want,” Jungkook assented. “I don’t think that’s what you want though.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, curiously.

Jungkook looks smug, pleased to have caught him off guard. “Nah, you don’t want more
money. You want reassurance.”

Taehyung is so startled by Jungkook’s conjecture that he scoffs. “Yes, please tell me more
about what I want. I’m sure the little file your grandfather’s lawyers put together has
everything there is to know about me.”

“This is just a hunch,” Jungkook confesses. “You were acting pretty bold last night when we
first started talking, then suddenly, you shut down. You got cold feet.”

Taehyung wants to laugh at the terrible wedding pun. Instead, he kind of just feels exposed.

“Look, it was not meant to be a slight when I said you needed the money, okay?” Jungkook
assures, “It’s just a fact, isn’t it? Like you’re Taehyung Kim. You are a Comp Sci major.”

Taehyung throws him a withering glare, not convinced.

Jungkook puts his hands in his pockets, and looks around. Then, without making eye contact,
he says, “Like I need this even more than you.”

Could it be an olive branch? A little wave of a white flag? But Taehyung is feeling
combative, and does not want to be so quick to forgive. “Why? Twenty-five million dollars
not enough for you?”

Jungkook turns to him once again. He looks like he’d like to punch a wall. Or Taehyung’s
face. Grimacing, he admits, “It’s not.”

Something about hearing him say that so simply, so unflinchingly, unravels the knot that had
been twisting inside Taehyung’s chest. Maybe it’s knowing he’s not the only person who
would as good as sell their soul to the devil for money. Maybe it’s that Jungkook probably
already has more money than he’d be able to burn through in an entire lifetime, yet he still
wants more.

Maybe Jungkook is right. Taehyung does need reassurance. That he would not be such a
terrible person if he participates in this sham of a marriage for his own benefit. It will benefit
Jungkook too. It will be an equal exchange, a measured give and take.

Maybe the rest of his inheritance is just that much of an outrageous amount to Jungkook as
five million dollars is to Taehyung. Maybe walking away from it is as unfathomable for
Jungkook as it is for Taehyung.

Maybe Taehyung realized he cares about the institution of marriage more than he thought.
Maybe it’s really his parents that he cares about the most, and marrying for the sole express
 purpose of amassing a small fortune is something he knows they would never approve of.

And maybe. Just maybe. It matters little how he desecrates the love they raised him with,
because at the end of the day, it wasn’t enough. Even in excess, it could never fill all the
cracks in the face of his pride or undo the psychological damage from growing up piss poor.

“Okay,” Taehyung acquiesces, calmly. “I’ll do it.”

It’s clear Jungkook did not think convincing Taehyung would be this easy. He blinks a couple
of times as if in disbelief. Like a child who’s been told Christmas has come early, the two
seconds before the magnitude of the statement hits them and the joy slowly seeps in.

“Alright,” He says, finally. The relief in his voice is impossible to miss.

Maybe they’re both just greedy people.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

now that we're done with the set up, the fun truly begins!

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 Cloudy With a Chance of A New Beginning
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

The white shirt has seen better days.

After being worn at every semi-formal event in the last four years, it is quite literally hanging
by a thread. Or a few. The fabric over the edges of the cuffs has worn off, some buttons are in
dire need of tighter stitching, the white is really not even white anymore. It’s off white.

Very, very off.

Just the way Taehyung feels.

He graduates summa cum laude and gets married to Jungkook Jeon on a rather inauspicious
day. The sky constantly flits between clear and overcast. And, it drizzles on and off all
morning like the clouds can’t make up their minds. The distinct sense that they’re frowning
down at him is difficult to shake off. His family is not present at either of these milestone life
events. One of the myriad of reasons everything feels wrong.

Commencement goes as expected. He can’t help but feel a little sentimental after receiving
his diploma and walking across the stage. He laid many hopes and dreams to rest here,
latched on to even more of them in the aftermath. He got shattered, picked up the pieces
himself, put them back together in a different configuration that makes him up now. Even
though the resentment sticks, and likely will never leave, he is leaving a more resilient person
than when he arrived.

Jungkook is wearing a wobbly smile when Taehyung catches sight of him post-ceremony on
the South Lawns. The light, bright blue of the gown and cap encasing his tentative joy
mirrors the sweeping sky nesting the sun in the palm of its hands. Jungkook’s cousins, the
two men and teenager who had been present at the will reading—Seokjin, Namjin, and Nora
—take turns hugging him. A petite blond man with a wide, gummy smile straightens them
out into a line to capture several pictures. Taehyung has never seen him before, but he must
be someone close because right after snapping pictures of the cousins, he bounces over to
Jungkook and gives him what looks like a bone crushing hug. Seokjin says something to
make the whole group laugh, and takes the camera from the blond man to snap pictures of
him with Jungkook.
Taehyung wonders if the man is Jungkook’s boyfriend. He does not really care. He is merely
curious.

The affair at City Hall is more precarious. Though in a way, it goes exactly as expected as
well. It’s painfully uncomfortable, stuffy as hell, and the chock full of awkwardness is like
nothing Taehyung has ever experienced before. Taehyung doesn’t have anyone to invite, so
Jungkook’s older cousins—Seokjin and Namjoon—stand as the two witnesses the State
requires.

Taehyung waits in line with his groom and his cousins in complete, resounding silence. He’s
thinking this can’t possibly get any more awkward when he hears awkward, heavily accented
Korean.

“Congratulations, Taehyung,” One of Jungkook’s cousins says in Korean. “Big day today,
huh?”

“Thank you,” Taehyung responds in Korean, his body slipping into auto-pilot and bowing
before he can stop himself.

“My hangul is severely lacking,” He continues, smiling broadly. Dimples dot his cheeks,
make his kind eyes shine gentle. “But I– to have– look for opportunities to practice. Maybe
you can help me.” His grammatical syntax may need some work but Taehyung is endeared by
his attempt to communicate in Korean.

“No, no,” Taehyung tries to reassure him. “You sound great.”

“Could I sound better though, right?”

It's a rhetorical question erroneously posed as an actual question. In either case, Taehyung
can’t disagree. Tackling a language you didn’t grow up speaking is a particular kind of
challenge that can only be assuaged by consistent, intensive practice. Taehyung can
personally attest to that. Even after four years in America, he still slips up far too often. The
shadow of his slight accent makes things difficult in a way that is probably only familiar to
people who live away from the country they grew up in.

“We could all sound better,” Taehyung offers in English, smiling.

“Ain’t that the truth. I’m Namjoon, by the way,” He says, slipping back into English as well.
He gets up to offer Taehyung his hand for a shake. Taehyung carefully reaches for it.
Namjoon’s grip is strong without being overpowering. Something tells Taehyung that he
would be a very reliable person to have on your side.

That makes him immediately wary because it’s unlikely he’d ever be on his side. As things
are, Namjoon is probably acutely suspicious of Taehyung just like Jungkook.

“I’m Seokjin.” Jungkook’s other cousin, the exceptionally good looking one that looks like a
human mannequin, offers a small wave instead of a hand shake. “Is your family still in
Korea?”
“Yes, they wanted to be here for my graduation ceremony but we couldn’t work things out,”
Taehyung says. He does not mention that they just could not afford the plane tickets and all
the other costs that come with a transatlantic trip.

Seokjin looks like he’s about to say something else, but Taehyung is spared the scrutiny when
their names are called for the officiation.

Taehyung and Jungkook unwittingly exchange a glance. As much as it doesn’t feel like it,
they’re in this shit show together now. Virtual strangers standing at the altar, lying through
their teeth as they say they will love one another in sickness and in health. They’re one in
sharing the misery of this charade if nothing else.

Jungkook is dressed in a simple white shirt and black suit. It's clean cut and well-fitted.
Anyone with any sense can tell it's an expensive suit. Taehyung's off white shirt and faded
dress pants pale in every way. Honestly, they do not look like two men walking up to get
married. They probably look more like an overworked, underpaid city clerk like a Secretary
trailing behind a high ranking official.

With his arm sleeve covered, Jungkook looks a little boyish, a lot soft. It’s difficult to see past
the piercings and tattoos sometimes, but at the root of it, Jungkook is a pretty boy through
and through.

That was how he first caught Taehyung’s eyes.

Taehyung didn’t know Jungkook’s grandfather was a billionaire, or that he himself was one
in the making. All he saw was the fascinating contrast of his pale knuckles bearing dark ink,
his soft brow punctuated by a piercing, his lithe arm a canvas for his colorful ideas. And
behind it all—a devastating smile that revealed a couple of slightly protruding front teeth like
a baby bunny.

That was the only time Taehyung saw Jungkook smile. A genuine smile. Not the straight lips
awkwardly curving at the edges, polite bullshit.

It was the summer before Sophomore year. The Astrophysics upperclassmen had put together
an event to observe the Strawberry Moon from Rutherford Observatory. Taehyung went
because he didn’t have anything better to do after finishing his shift at the campus Computer
Lab.

Maybe it had been a happenstance, maybe the stars had known he was going to be marrying
the same boy in three years. Whatever it was, Taehyung saw Jungkook smile that night. Eyes
plugged to the eyepiece of the larger than life telescope, Jungkook observed the Strawberry
Moon, and smiled like a child. Taehyung didn’t even see all of his face because of the
telescope, only his pink lips stretching open to reveal his less than perfect line of teeth. The
mole beneath them anchored that moment, and it somehow remained with him. That display
of innocent, childlike wonder. A snapshot forever imprinted inside his brain for whatever
reason. So whenever Taehyung saw Jungkook around campus, as foul-tempered and
disenchanted as he always appeared, he couldn’t shake off the image of him smiling brightly,
radiantly. It always felt like a great privilege, having witnessed the vulnerability ensconced
by his usually hard exterior.
The Minister officiating the marriage is an older, white man, who beams at them as he reads
the vows. Taehyung still can’t quite believe this is happening. Jungkook fidgets in discomfort
like he’s ready to jump out of his own skin. Maybe he’ll dramatically storm out of the room,
Taehyung muses, putting them both out of their misery. But Jungkook doesn’t do any such
thing, and too soon, the Minister is proclaiming them Man and Husband.

And instructing them to kiss.

It hits both of them at the same moment. They’d been so caught up in the absurdity of it all,
they didn’t discuss how they were going to handle the kiss. Taehyung is astounded by his
own lack of foresight, and by Jungkook’s as well, if his round, wide eyes are anything to go
by.

There’s already too much Taehyung is worrying about. Somehow this seems simple enough
because there’s no way around it. Taehyung inches closer, sucking his breath in for his own
sheer audacity, and chastely presses his lips against Jungkook’s. The moment lasts as long as
the breath Taehyung is holding. When he withdraws, Jungkook’s eyes are even wider,
rounder. Taehyung is worried he has upset him, but Jungkook lets out an awkward cough, and
looks at the Minister to nod.

Namjoon claps his hands. Once, loudly. Then, he realizes Seokjin is not joining in, so the
second and third claps get progressively quieter until they peter out.

Later, after Jungkook has acquired a copy of their marriage certificate, and Seokjin and
Namjoon have said their goodbye, they stand outside the Manhattan City Clerk’s office.

“Are you all packed up?” Jungkook asks, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk with hands
nestled inside his pockets. The very peak of awkwardness.

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies. “Just have to return a few books to the library, then I’ll be all set.”

“Did you say you live in Riverside? I can send a car later,” Jungkook offers, pulling a hand
out to delicately scratch over his eyebrow piercing.

Taehyung hasn’t said anything about where he lives. Jungkook must’ve gotten the
information from his file.

“I do, but it’s alright,” Taehyung declines. “There’s a direct line over to your place.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks.

Jungkook does not look placated even when he nods. “Okay then,” Jungkook says, waving
awkwardly. “I guess I’ll see you later tonight.”

"I'm sorry about the kiss," Taehyung suddenly blurts out.

Jungkook looks away, his cheeks dusted pink. "It's okay. I should've brought it up before the
ceremony so it wasn't a surprise."
It had not really been a surprise. Not really, because how do you get married without kissing?
Taehyung was just so cut up over the real life implications that he forgot about this small,
little detail.

"Well, I forgot too," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "Didn't seem we could get away
without doing it, so I just... improvised."

"Great improvisation," Jungkook says, deeply uncomfortable.

Taehyung nods, starts turning to leave. He notices that Jungkook is still lingering where he
stands. He turns back around, faces Jungkook. “Is there anything else?”

Jungkook hesitates. He pulls another hand out of his pant pockets, pushes his hair back with
it, and sighs.

“I know, this is not something–,” He pauses, seems to let the words wash over his tongue. “I
know this is all just, very–”

“Bizarre? Preposterous? Surreal?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiles, sheepishly. “All of those.”

“It is. But it’ll be worth it,” Taehyung says, more so to alleviate the glum shadow hanging
over both of them than anything. “It’s only a year, right?”

“Only a year,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Right.”

Odd as it may be, Taehyung gets the sense that Jungkook is somehow trying to comfort him.

“It’s not the worst thing that has happened to me, okay?” Taehyung says, to let him know
he’ll be okay. “It may actually be the best thing that’s happened to me.”

As soon as he says it, Taehyung knows he’s fucked up.

Jungkook’s face, soft and sympathetic until that point, hardens immediately.

“I mean,” Taehyung fumbles to correct himself. “I don’t mean it like that–”

“Like what?" Jungkook demands. "Like my grandfather dying isn’t the best thing that has
happened to you?”

Shit.

That is the farthest thing from what Taehyung had meant, but he realizes now how his words
may be misconstrued in that way.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung starts, trying to step closer. “I really didn’t–”

“Just save it. I’m an idiot for trying to make peace with–,” Jungkook pauses, his sharp eyes
cutting like knives. “With someone like you.”
Taehyung stops dead. “Someone like me? What is that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook glares at him. “Can you think of any good reason Harabeoji would have included
you in the will?”

Taehyung fumes. He feels his skin getting hot, the rage bubbling right under the surface.

But Jungkook is right. Taehyung can’t think of any good reason why Jungkook's grandfather
would have named Taehyung in his will. There can be no good reason for the hurt Jeon
Ilsung has caused his family by naming Taehyung in his will. No good reason for the betrayal
Jungkook must feel for being so completely blindsided by his own grandfather.

Taehyung knows he should concede. He knows that no good will come out of arguing back.
But, his rage is burning his insides raw.

Is being poor a crime?

Did Taehyung choose to be born to a young couple who were always going to have to
struggle to make ends meet?

Did Jungkook do something great to merit being born as a billionaire's beloved grandson?

No.

No.

No.

It was all just fucking random. And Taehyung has had enough of people acting like his
poverty is a choice or a heinous disease.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Taehyung spits out, stone cold even as his hands
tremble in rage.

Jungkook does not even flinch at that. Without missing a beat, he shoots right back,
"Definitely not the one who's swindled his way into a dead man's will."

"Oh right, that's me, apparently," Taehyung mouths, sarcastically.

"Glad you're at least self-aware."

"Which is more than I can say for you."

"You don't know the first thing about me."

"Let's see," Taehyung mocks, beginning to list things off using his fingers. "I know that
you're a prick. I know that you think the whole world should revolve around you. I even
know that you are a big damn hypocrite."

Jungkook scoffs bitterly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, maybe I don't," Taehyung admits. "But I'm not the one going around making ugly
assumptions about people I don't know, so maybe there's a lesson here for you to learn,
huh?"

Taehyung doesn't stay to give Jungkook a chance to respond. He turns on his heels, and starts
striding towards the nearest train station. His skin thrums with the satisfaction of finally
speaking up, of unleashing the words that he's forced himself to swallow back for most of his
life.

❝「☁」❞

In the afternoon, Taehyung finds himself at the last place he wants to be.

Jungkook’s townhouse is not the biggest or the fanciest townhouse on the block, so Taehyung
is not sure he has the right place. But he sees the address Jungkook had texted him a couple
of days ago:

613 Winter Ave

And the plaque on the front door of this unassuming townhouse says ‘613’.

It came as a surprise when the address did not lead him to Morningside. Jungkook had
previously mentioned living a block away from him. It could just be that his lease ran out
since the school year ended in May. It is also not outside of the realm of possibility that he
had more than one residence in the city. Apartments and townhouses scattered throughout the
different neighborhoods for him to crash at whenever convenient. At least, that's what
Taehyung would do if he was an almost billionaire.

Hesitantly, Taehyung leaves his two suitcases by the sidewalk and climbs up the stairs of the
stoop. He knocks on the door, right below the plaque. Once, twice, thrice.

A moment passes. Then, there is a sound of clattering followed by a thud.

“Shit!” Someone exclaims.

The door swings open to reveal a blond man—not the one who was with Jungkook and his
family at the commencement. He looks even shorter than the first blond man, and is frowning
pretty hard.
“I really need to look where I’m going,” He says, sagely. Then, his face breaks into a big
smile, “You must be Taehyung!”

“Uh, yes,” Taehyung says. “Sorry, Jungkook didn’t mention there was going to be someone
else.”

“Hah, that’s just so typical of him,” The man chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Come on in. Oh, is
that your stuff?”

Taehyung nods. He climbs down the stairs to start pulling his suitcases—one with each hand
—up the stairs. However, before he can get his hand on the second suitcase, the blond man
has followed him down the stairs and started rolling it himself.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Taehyung says.

“Why not?” He shrugs.

They manage to shuffle the suitcases inside in one go. Once the man closes the door shut, he
dusts his hands off, and declares, “First order of business is a grand tour of the house!”

He still hasn’t introduced himself, so Taehyung is left guessing.

“I’m Jimin!” He shares, as if reading Taehyung’s mind. “It looks like Jungkook didn’t tell
you anything about us.”

Us , Taehyung notes, ambiguously.

Forget about the man from commencement, this guy seems to be Jungkook’s boyfriend. Not
for the first time, Taehyung wonders what Jeon Ilsung had been thinking. Why pawn his
grandson off to a stranger if he already has a partner?

“There really hasn’t been much opportunity for talking,” Taehyung says, diplomatically. He
does not want to step on any toes. There is an elephant in this room, and he certainly won’t be
the one to acknowledge it.

“Isn’t it so funny?” Jimin points out, still smiling. “You two are married, and you hardly
know each other!”

Clearly, Jimin has no scruples about bulldozing right over the hypothetical elephant.

Taehyung lets out an awkward laugh. “Funny is one word for it, I guess.”

That seems to sober Jimin up. “Sorry,” He says, sheepishly. “I know this must be very weird.
But I give you my assurance that we’ll all be trying our best to make this as comfortable as
possible for you.”

Taehyung knows that he should really be the one saying this to Jimin and Jungkook. I’m so
sorry that I have to be here. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible. It’ll be like
I’m not even here!
He is gaping a little. When Jimin raises his brows, Taehyung scrambles to say, “Thank you. I
really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Jimin says, then turns to face the house. “Now, come on, I promised a tour,
didn’t I?”

The townhouse looks less ordinary from the inside. It’s not gigantic or flashy like Jeon
Ilsung’s penthouse, but it has a lived-in feel to it that was severely lacking from the former.
The foyer they start from is a little dark, but it opens up to a living room that is bright and
airy. The curtains are drawn open, and the afternoon sunlight trickles in through the three
large windows that line the wall facing the street.

“This is the living room,” Jimin says, opening up his arms to show the room. “We don’t do
much here, except homework and afternoon naps sometimes.”

Taehyung always imagined New York City townhouses would have more traditional, gaudy
furniture, but this place has been furnished with mid-century pieces that give it a clean,
modern look. The living room gives way to a kitchen in the back that is surprisingly
expansive.

“I’m not much of a cook,” Jimin says, shuffling him into the kitchen. “But Jungkook loves to
cook. Especially at the ass crack of dawn when no one sane is awake.”

Taehyung gets the unusual urge to push for more information. Why would Jungkook be
cooking at the crack of dawn? But it’s none of his business, and in any case, Jungkook’s
boyfriend is the last person Taehyung should be asking any questions about Jungkook.

The gas stove and rest of the appliances look well-used. There’s a bit of clutter on the
countertop, which is another indication that people actually live and eat here in sharp contrast
to Jeon Ilsung’s penthouse.

“I usually just grab something on campus during the day,” Jimin is saying, walking around
the butcher block covered island in the middle of the kitchen. “But Jungkook cooks dinner on
most nights. He’s really been on a noodles bender lately. I’ve had enough kalgooksu to last
me a lifetime in the past month.”

Taehyung nods, smiles because he doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh, who am I kidding? I’d eat it again. I could never get enough of Jungkook’s cooking!”
Jimin proclaims. Then, with a wink, he adds, “Don’t tell him I said that though.”

Taehyung has met a great number of open-minded people in his time at Columbia. But Jimin
may take the cake for being so completely unaffected by his boyfriend marrying someone
else. The marriage is not real, but he is still sharing his partner with a stranger in some sense.
Taehyung can’t imagine being this blasé about the situation himself.

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Jimin says, unbothered and unperturbed. “If you’re nice to him, he
even takes requests!”
Past the kitchen seems to be a patio, with a seating area. To its right is a big room full of
books and reading chairs scattered throughout the room.

“This is the study,” Jimin says, then pointing at the books all around, adds. “And of course,
the library.”

The smell of old books hits Taehyung like a breeze of fresh lemonade on a sweltering
summer day. He takes a deep inhale, smiles despite himself. There are small rectangular
windows above the bookcases that trawl up to about a couple of feet off the ceiling. They
bring some light, but for the most part, the room is dark and cold.

Taehyung already knows this is going to be his favorite room in the whole house.

The guest room—that is now Taehyung’s de facto room—is on the second floor. It’s got the
same design sensibility as much of the rest of the house. Sleek, modern bed, nightstands,
writing desk populate the room. Giant windows encompass most of the wall facing the street,
just like the living room right beneath. The heavy, blackout curtains have been drawn open,
but a thinner, almost sheer white fabric hangs over the window panel.

It is without a doubt the nicest room Taehyung has ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

“Well, I’ll leave you here,” Jimin says, pulling the second of his suitcases into the room.
“We’re upstairs on the third floor, so feel free to holler if you need anything, okay?”

Taehyung nods. “Thank you, Jimin. I really appreciate it.”

What exactly is it, Taehyung wonders.

“No problem! We’re going to be roommates now, so I just want to make sure you’re
comfortable.”

Taehyung nods, smiling.

The sound of footsteps approaching steals their attention. Taehyung fully braces himself to
face Jungkook after their earlier fallout. But it’s not Jungkook who pokes his head in through
his door. It’s the blond guy who had accompanied Jungkook and his cousins at the post-
commencement reception.

“Oh hey, babe,” Jimin greets him, raising one of his arms to hook it over his shoulders and
pull him against his own body. The man’s blond hair is darker with wetness. He’s clearly just
stepped out of the shower.

“Look Taehyung is here!” Jimin exclaims. “Taehyung, this is Yoongi. My boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

Isn’t Jungkook Jimin’s boyfriend?

“Hey man,” Yoongi says, with a nod. He is not exactly unfriendly, but the warm, gummy
smile that he wore while with Jungkook is nowhere to be found.
 If Jimin is not Jungkook’s boyfriend, who is he? Would it be inappropriate to ask, Taehyung
is just wondering, when Jimin solves the mystery himself

“I’m so excited for us to be roommates!” He howls in joy.

It’s surprising because Taehyung did not think rich people had roommates. Jungkook in
general seems to be full of surprises, however.

Jimin passes Taehyung his phone number, and leaves him to freshen up and unpack. Yoongi
follows his boyfriend out.

The house is beautiful. Everything looks effortless and simple in that way only a lot of money
can afford. He knows that the cost of furniture in the living room alone would amount to
however much Taehyung could bag for selling a kidney.

Strange as his life has been since the day of Jeon Ilsung’s will reading, he has a distinct
feeling that it’s only going to get even stranger from here on out.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

please let me know how you're liking the story. thank you for reading!

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 Cloudy With a Chance of Mimosas
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

Living daylights apart from home gets you acquainted with many different flavors of
loneliness.

There’s the taste of home, the kimchi jjigae his mom cooked most nights. The sweltering heat
that was suffocating while growing up in a house without central air. The sound of fast, brash
satoori as the background music of his life. The sight of big, cargo ships docked at the
seaport. The smell of the fish market Taehyung used to frequent on Saturday mornings with
his dad. He found it unpleasant at the time but now he aches for it because it’d mean the
simple fact that he is home.

Sometimes it feels like Taehyung is in an alternate dimension where the life he lived in
Daegu and the person he once was never existed. Like the only version of himself that he has
ever been is the current one. The same one lying on bed, staring at the beautiful crown
molding that line the edges of Jungkook's old townhouse ceiling.

Soft padding and a tinkling sound take him out of his reverie. They’re immediately followed
by the sensation of wetness on his right hand, hanging off the side of his bed.

Taehyung raises his neck slightly, and comes face to face with a dog. Quite a large dog
actually.

“Oh hello,” he says. The dog wags his tail enthusiastically in return.

Taehyung stretches up to sit straight, looks through the door to find no one.

“Where did you come from?” Taehyung offers the hand the dog had licked, who happily laps
it up in greeting.

“Bam! Bam!” Jungkook calls from a distance. Jimin had said their rooms were upstairs so
that’s probably where he was calling from.

“Come on, boy! Where are you?”

Taehyung is still extremely annoyed at Jungkook but hearing him speak with fondness for his
dog makes him feel a little less annoyed.
“He’s here!” Taehyung yells to let him know. Only to be polite.

Bam happily barks and lolls his tongue out, likely indicating he wants to participate in this
shouting match. Taehyung reaches out to scratch his head. Bam groans approvingly.

Jungkook climbs down the stairs, and in the next moment he is at Taehyung’s door.

“Bam!” He exclaims, with a sigh. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“He was very cordially introducing himself,” Taehyung shares, still petting Bam. “By licking
my hand.”

Jungkook chuckles for a moment. Then, it’s like he remembers the sour note they left on after
the wedding, and straightens up.

“Sorry, he has no sense of boundaries.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t have much experience with big dogs, but you seem like a total
goofball,” Taehyung says to Bam, stretching to scratch him with both hands.

“Did you have a small dog?” Jungkook asks, warily.

“Growing up," Taehyung replies, a small smile unfurling across his lips. It's more in memory
of his little pal than for Jungkook's benefit. "We had a pomeranian.”

“Oh, you had a small small dog,” Jungkook says, emphasizing size in a way that clearly
alludes to disapproval.

Taehyung can’t help but scowl at that. “What’s wrong with small dogs?” He grumbles.

Jungkook raises his brows in surprise. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing.”

“How did you mean it then?”

“It’s just—," Jungkook falters a bit. "They’re small dogs. Really small. You could
accidentally sit on one and it’d just—”

Taehyung glares at him, challenging him to complete that thought. Jungkook seems to
consider it for a moment, then decides against it.

“Whatever,” Jungkook sighs, sounding defeated. “I actually did need to talk to you.”

Taehyung is in a foul mood now. He was already feeling sentimental, aching for some sense
of familiarity, and Jungkook had just introduced a rather horrendous idea to the memory of
his childhood dog.

“What?” Taehyung snips, still glaring. He withdraws his hands from scratching Bam’s ears,
lets it sit still in his lap.

“Aunty Mina has organized a brunch to kick off summer,” Jungkook says.
“The start of summer warrants a brunch party?” Taehyung asks, condescendingly.

As if he senses the elevated animosity in the air, Bam pulls his ears back and whines.

“Sure, why not?” Jungkook says, rolling his eyes.

“For starters, most people can’t afford to throw parties for the start of each season,”
Taehyung huffs, folding his hands across his chest.

“She is not ‘most’ people,” Jungkook replies, mirroring the action.

Taehyung continues glaring at Jungkook as every word out of his mouth seems specifically
chosen to aggravate him. “Neither are you.”

“What is your point?” Jungkook asks, annoyance apparent in his voice.

“Wow,” Taehyung says in mock surprise. “I knew you were a hypocrite. I didn’t know you
were also conceited.”

Jungkook stiffens, his shoulders and back straight in agitation. “I would watch my words if I
were you.”

“Is that a threat?” Taehyung challenges.

“It is a courteous reminder,” Jungkook contends, with a frown.

Bam, having given up on more scratches from Taehyung, sniffs under his bed.

“Come here, boy,” Jungkook calls again, and he dutifully but much less enthusiastically pads
over to his owner.

“Why do I need to be there?” Taehyung asks. “It’s for your family, I assume.”

“Well, Taehyung," Jungkook starts, taking a deep, exasperated breath. "I don’t know if
you’ve forgotten already, but we got married a few days ago. In the eyes of the law and the
world, we are husbands. That makes you my family. That makes my family your family too.”

“I know you are absolutely thrilled to be married to me, but you don’t have to be a jerk about
it,” Taehyung advises, scoffing. "Where is the brunch?"

“Central Park," Jungkook says, gruffly. "Look, just get ready to leave by 2:25 tomorrow.
There’ll be a car picking us up at 2:30.”

Taehyung gawks at him like he’s said something preposterous.

“What?” Jungkook asks, as Bam circles around him sniffing his shoes.

“Isn’t that kinda late for brunch?”

“Not really.”
“Well, I am not waiting until 3 in the afternoon to break my fast.”

“I didn’t say you can't eat before that.”

“But isn't that the point of brunch? It's not brunch if you've already eaten!" Taehyung argues,
if only to emphasize how ridiculous the idea is.

“Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with you?” Jungkook hisses.

“I’m just pointing out the fallacy in the logi–”

“You know what? Forget I asked," Jungkook counters, throwing his hands up. "You don’t
have to come.”

“Too late, I’m coming now.” There’s something about Jungkook that makes Taehyung’s
hackles rise like no one else. He has spent his whole life avoiding confrontation. Now, it
seems like he had been saving all that ire up for Jungkook.

“No, please. Don’t bother,” Jungkook huffs, then turns and leaves.

Bam turns to look at Taehyung, holds eye contact for a couple of moments, and turns to leave
slowly, snout almost dragging across the floor.

❝「☁」❞

Jungkook does not comment when Taehyung steps out into the stoop when a sleek, black car
pulls up in front of the town house. He only glances at him, sighs, and proceeds to climb into
the car. Taehyung follows with the same level of enthusiasm.

The drive to brunch is quiet. Except the honks and blares typical of Midtown traffic, nothing
graces Taehyung’s ears. It isn’t that he expected Jungkook to say anything, but he also did not
expect him to say nothing .

It’s Taehyung who ends up speaking up first anyway, as the car pulls in front of The Ritz-
Carlton.

“Wait a minute,” He says, confused. “I thought we were going to Central Park.”

Jungkook looks at him like he has a screw loose. “Yes, we are in Central Park.”

It dawns on him then. The brunch is at The Ritz-Carlton. Of course, it is.

Taehyung scoffs, with a disbelieving smile on his face.

The car halts in front of the valet booth. Jungkook steps out, rounds the back of the car, and
approaches Taehyung getting off on the curb.

“What?” Jungkook asks, straightening his lapels. With a full suit on, tie and all, he looks a bit
overdressed for brunch in Taehyung’s opinion.

“I thought it was at Central Park,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. “Like the actual park
part of Central Park, you know. Not at the fucking Ritz-Carlton.”

Jungkook’s brows straighten, as if in revelation. “Is that why you’re dressed like that?” He
asks, eyeing Taehyung up and down.

Taehyung is so taken aback, he has to take a moment to make sure he heard Jungkook
correctly.

“Excuse me?” Taehyung asks, incredulous. He is aware he is not the best dressed person in
any room he walks into, even ones not crowded with millionaires or billionaires. However,
no one has ever so outwardly criticized his appearance.

“You are wearing a dusty shirt that clearly needs to be laid to rest for good, and a pair of
trousers that need to be ironed,” Jungkook states, without blinking—casually verbose like
he’s describing the weather in leisurely observation. “You could’ve asked if you needed
something to wear.”

As with loneliness, Taehyung is familiar with many different flavors of humiliation. This one,
for some reason, cuts deeper than most.

Taehyung gapes as Jungkook steps into the lobby, without sparing another glance his way. He
follows right behind. His face is so hot and red, they could probably fry some of the eggs
they are sure to serve at brunch on his forehead. Taehyung tries to take faster strides to catch
up to him. If nothing else, to ask him how dare he. How dare he make snap judgments about
his appearance?

Unfortunately, there is a couple on the elevator with them. Once Jungkook steps off the
elevator and out into the hallway, a couple of floors above, he continues moving swiftly. He
really gives Taehyung no good opportunity to retort.

Taehyung feels like he is seeing double. A heavy pit roots itself in his stomach as he realizes
tears are pooling in his eyes. His steps halt immediately. He turns around, and walks away.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook calls after him. “Where are you going? Taehyung!”

Taehyung doesn’t answer.

 ❝「☁」❞

The balcony is colorful and isolated. It both suits his mood and violently clashes with it.
Much as he would have liked to find a dark, gloomy concrete corner at this labyrinth of a
hotel, asking for something so plain and drab would be too much of The Ritz-Carlton.

Plain and drab.

Maybe in a different world, those are the words Jungkook would have used to describe him.

Dark and gloomy would be quite appropriate as well, now that he’s thinking about it.

He bursts out laughing at the thought.

One could point at most negative descriptors in the dictionary, and they would probably be
more accurate than not in describing Taehyung. Jungkook alone has already called him
manipulative, difficult, poor, shabby, opportunistic among other things he hasn't explicitly
spelled out. The funny thing is that Taehyung absolutely believes it himself. For one reason
or another, one time or more often, he has been all of those things. And he could be much
worse. It's just pure, fucking irony that Jungkook who doesn't know the first thing about
Taehyung is able to read him like an open book.

Once he’s started laughing, Taehyung can’t stop. He’s laughing without inhibitions now,
doubling over the railing he stands in front of, looking over the great, vast view of Central
Park South. The tears on his cheeks have not even dried, but soon, he is hysterical. The
absurdity of the last few weeks is hitting him at once like this humiliation just injected one
potent reminder of everything into his veins. It’s like being hit by a truck, friction working
against momentum. But instead of bleeding, he is howling with laughter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung almost jumps out of his skin when he hears someone speak. He whips around, sees
a stranger in a sharp, navy blue suit standing a few feet away. With hands in his pockets and
an easy smile on his lips, his posture is relaxed.

“I’m sorry?”

“You were crying, then you started laughing. So which one is it? How are you really
feeling?”

Taehyung stares dumbly. “Neither,” He eventually manages to say. He straightens up, squares
his shoulders to appear more composed, less frazzled.

“If you say so,” The stranger says, not unkindly. He reaches into an inside pocket of his suit
jacket, pulls a handkerchief out, and proffers it to Taehyung. “Here.”
“I’m okay,” Taehyung says, reflexively.

“You got some,” He points to Taehyung’s face, and vaguely gesticulates. “Um, some things
on your face.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung exclaims, and self-consciously wipes his cheeks with the back of his
hands.

“Please take this,” The stranger urges, still holding the handkerchief out.

Taehyung quickly grabs it without making eye contact, and manages to wipe his face with
only just slightly more dignity.

“Thank you,” Taehyung replies, gratefully. “I’m just–, today has been less than stellar.”

“I could’ve never guessed,” He returns, smiling. “And I’m only half joking.”

Despite himself, Taehyung chuckles. “Yeah, I’m not really sure what I’m feeling either.”

“Happens to the best of us,” He says, sympathetically.

Taehyung has a self-pitying response at the tip of his tongue so he’s glad when the man’s
phone buzzes. He looks at Taehyung apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” He says, looking at his phone. “Can I ask your name?”

“Oh yes,” Taehyung says, already feeling better. “I’m Taehyung Kim.”

The man does a slight double take, an almost imperceptible raise of brows. Taehyung
wonders if he has ever met him before, but he is certain he hasn’t.

“Taehyung,” He says meaningfully, starting to walk towards the exit. “It was nice to meet
you.”

The delirium that had momentarily struck him earlier leaves with the man. Taehyung feels
more grounded, like his feet are no longer stepping on clouds, like he knows where he is
going.

Truth is that he doesn’t. He has absolutely no idea what comes next. But this kind stranger's
interruption was a good reminder that there is a whole world that exists beyond this strange,
lavish fishbowl he suddenly finds himself trapped inside. He may come close to losing his
mind. No, he knows he will come close to losing it, but all he really needs to do if he can’t
take it anymore is walk away.

With that realization, he squares his shoulders and makes his way to brunch.
 ❝「☁」❞

As soon as Taehyung steps into the ballroom, he knows Jungkook’s comment had not been
incorrect.

The room isn’t as big as he thought it was going to be. The brunch seems like a more intimate
affair than he had imagined, but the extravagance at display is still staggering. There are
maybe a dozen or so round tables scattered throughout the room. Atop them sit silverware
that shine like actual silver, plates and glasses that look like they cost more than Taehyung’s
entire net worth. It isn’t much to be clear, but he has never seen plates and glasses this
exquisite before. Taehyung had been to his fair share of ‘formal’ parties at Columbia.
Departmental dinners, scholarship galas, fancy fundraising events. But nowhere before has he
seen tableware lined with what looks like real gold. Delicate aesthetic and beautiful
craftsmanship.

The guests are dressed to upstage the beautiful set up. If Taehyung didn’t know any better,
he’d think these people had to be at some red carpet event right after brunch. Even Jungkook
is not dressed that well. Taehyung can’t quite excuse his rudeness, but no wonder Jungkook
thought he was dressed poorly.

Taehyung looks around, decides to walk over to the beverage station. He almost plucks a
glass of orange juice from the table, but goes for the mimosa instead at the last second.
Taking a sip—noting how absolutely delicious it tastes—he walks off to the side, hoping he
can somehow blend into the background.

“Taehyung!” Someone calls.

He swings around to find Aunty Mina staring at him with big, gleaming eyes.

“I’m so glad you made it,” She says, gently pulling him into a light embrace.

Taehyung is so flabbergasted, he only manages a terse, “Yeah.”

Aunty Mina is dressed in a ruffled white dress with small pink peonies stitched onto the lace.
Her hair is down in immaculately effortless looking waves, and her smile lights up her entire
face.

She is stunning.

“Jungkook said you wouldn’t be interested, but I know he only said that because he isn’t
interested in these kinds of things,” She says, chuckling.

“Oh,” Taehyung fumbles, not really sure how to respond.

“Now that you two are married, I’m hoping I can rope him into more of these,” She shares,
conspiratorially. “He may not listen to me, but he must listen to his husband.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Taehyung says, hesitantly. Jungkook seems to be so strong-headed,
Taehyung is not sure he would listen to anyone.

“Come on now, dear. There’s no need to be shy. I can’t have both of you being shy and
reticent now,” She says, in a teasing tone.

Taehyung is confused about the line of conversation. He’s not certain but it almost seems like
Aunty Mina is talking as if Jungkook and him are an actual couple. It almost makes him miss
the fact that she called Jungkook shy.

Almost.

“Jungkook still hasn’t told us the proposal story,” She continues. “I am dying to hear all about
it.”

“What proposal story?” Taehyung asks, dreading her response.

“Your proposal story, silly,” She teases. “He keeps saying it was nothing special, but I know
that boy. He’s a romantic at heart.”

At this point, Taehyung is so very confused he almost wants to blurt out, There is no proposal
story! This is a fake marriage! You should know this already!

But then, it dawns on him—maybe she doesn’t know. Only Jungkook and Taehyung were
present at the time they were asked to read the provisions of their respective inheritances.
Clearly, Seokjin and Namjoon also know. Taehyung just figured the news would have
circulated among the family members, but maybe it had not.

“There is a problem, Ma’am,” A bleary-eyed young woman steps up to Aunty Mina and
sputters.

“Oh dear God,” Aunty Mina says, voice immediately switching to a stressed cadence. “Is it
the chocolate fountain?”

The woman nods, brows scrunched in distress.

“If you’ll excuse me, Taehyung,” Aunty Mina says, turning to head into the back room. As
she starts walking away, Taehyung hears her mutter, “It sounded like a good idea in theory,
but here we are.”

He’s left gaping.

For one, he has never witnessed a ‘chocolate fountain emergency’ before this moment. The
only emergencies Taehyung has experienced involved the wellbeing of his siblings. When
they were younger, Taehyung often watched his siblings while their parents were at work. He
has rushed one or both of his siblings to Urgent Care on more than one occasion. Sometimes
it was extremely high fever. There was also a lot of tripping and falling. All manner of ways
that children could get hurt.

Second, he is not actually married to Jungkook. Well, he is. But Jungkook is not really his
husband. Not in the sense that Aunty Mina seemed to imply, in any case.

He needs to find Jungkook immediately. He needs to find him, and sort this out so he does
not make a fool of himself. Or ruin some plan to fool Jungkook’s family that he is not aware
of.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung whirls to the sound of his name, which he is now starting to find ominous.

Thankfully, it’s the man from earlier that Taehyung had met on the balcony. When trying to
recall his name he realizes that the man never offered his.

“Um,” Taehyung says, awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”

Does he realize that he never shared his name with Taehyung? Will he think Taehyung forgot
his name if he asks for it now?

“Same thing you are doing, I imagine,” The man says, smiling. “Gearing up to kick off
summer the right way.”

It takes Taehyung a moment to realize he’s joking. By the time he does, there’s been a beat
too long in silence, so the man elaborates, more sheepishly, “I’m here for brunch.”

“Ah,” Taehyung wisely replies, staring down at their shoes. Taehyung is wearing his ‘nice’
dress shoes, but they look dusty and worn in front of this nice man's shining pair that is surely
made of top tier leather.

"I'm Bogum, by the way," The man offers, and Taehyung inconspicuously lets out a huge sigh
of relief.

Taehyung had had an inkling that the man might have been Korean, even though he spoke in
American-accented English. But now he knows for certain. He isn’t sure if it’s just him, but
he seems to have a sixth sense of sorts for recognizing fellow Koreans. It’s easier with
immigrants such as him who carry traces of the popular styling and accent from back home.
But even with Korean Americans, he’s gotten it right more times than not.

“Your Jungkook’s husband?” Bogum asks, with some uncertainty.

Taehyung’s head whips up to Bogum. “How did you know?”

“Jungkook’s a popular man,” Bogum answers, still smiling. “Everyone’s been excited to meet
you.”

Taehyung’s stomach drops at that. So not only does everyone think they are actually a couple,
but they also want to properly meet him?
“Are you okay?” Bogum asks, worried.

“Yes, sorry,” Taehyung says, finding purchase again. “It’s my first time at an event like this.
It’s just been… a lot to take in.”

Bogum chuckles, sipping his drink. A chute of sparkling champagne.

“How do you like it so far?” He asks.

“Can’t say I’ve been served mimosas before breakfast before today, so alright, I guess,”
Taehyung says, raising his own glass.

Bogum laughs, easy and light. “That comes with the territory.”

“What territory is that?”

“Being rich and obtuse?”

Taehyung is surprised at Bogum’s candidness. He took the man to be a part of the group he's
denouncing himself but perhaps he is not.

“Even though it means you are rich and obtuse?”

“Rich? Not quite,” He says, laughing. “Obtuse? You'll have to be the judge of that one.”

Taehyung laughs. He decides he likes Bogum. It’s nice to finally meet someone who is not
incomprehensibly wealthy.

“That’s a bummer,” Taehyung says. “I thought maybe one of the rich was somewhat self-
aware.”

“As it turns out, self-awareness is a commodity money cannot buy.”

Taehyung laughs, relishing in the liberating feeling of talking shit.

“Taehyung.”

His mood instantly sours when he hears the voice. Jungkook approaches Taehyung and
Bogum, frowning as always.

“Bogum,” Jungkook nods at him. He offers no smile nor any pleasantry, and neither does
Bogum, who merely nods back.

Taehyung can sense some tension between the two. He is just about to ask how they know
each other when Aunty Mina starts clinking an empty champagne chute with a spoon.

“Ladies, and gentlemen,” She says, projecting her voice across the room. “If you could find
your places, we are now just about ready to get started.”

“Come on,” Jungkook says, and shockingly, takes Taehyung’s hand in his own. Taehyung
can’t even squeeze in a goodbye to Bogum before he is being dragged to the front of the
room, close to where Aunty Mina is standing.

“I am so very pleased that you could all make it to my annual summer brunch. As always, I
hope you enjoy the food and the conversations, the atmosphere and the warm air.”

Jungkook releases his hand to pull a chair out at the table Aunty Mina is standing by,
presumably for Taehyung. He wordlessly takes the seat.

“I thought about altogether canceling this brunch after my father’s passing a couple of
months ago, but my dear nephew,” She winks at Jungkook, and then turns to smile at
Taehyung. “Gave me a reason to celebrate, so here we are.”

She picks up a chute full of champagne, raises her voice with it, “To Jungkook and
Taehyung!”

“To Jungkook and Taehyung.” Everyone echoes, merrily.

Taehyung has never been so mortified in his life. He is not one to shy from public speaking or
presenting himself in front of a crowd, but perhaps it’s the fact that he’s currently lying
through his teeth that makes him feel so unsettled.

As people clap, Jungkook reaches for his hand again. But it’s different this time. Where
before he’d almost snatched Taehyung’s hand out of thin air, this time his hand is more
tentative. Taehyung looks to his side, between their chairs where their hands hang together.
When Jungkook squeezes his hand, Taehyung looks up to see uncharacteristic warmth on his
face. Warmth, and an understanding that Taehyung is not alone.

At least in this one thing, he is not alone now.

Jungkook stands up and Taehyung follows. They face the crowd and bow in gratitude, as
would be tradition.

When they sit back down, Taehyung sees the rest of the occupants of their table. There is
Aunty Mina and the man Taehyung had spotted sitting by her at the will-reading. He looks
neither pleased nor displeased, wearing the perfect poker face. There’s Seokjin, Namjoon,
and Nora, who all look at him, smiling.

Then, there is Aunty Misun, who glares at Taehyung like he has offended her ancestors.

When Jungkook notices, he gives Taehyung’s hand a gentle squeeze again. Taehyung looks to
him. He really looks at him. Strangely, he sees a boy all alone in this world.

Taehyung’s family may live halfway across the world, but at least they share the same reality.
He has moments of disconnect when his past feels fragmented and distant, when his future
seems bleak. But Taehyung is always at ease knowing his family will always be part of each
one of his realities. They have always been there for him, and they will always be there for
him. Even if he may not always be able to take comfort in the knowledge, it's a relief he has
them.
 Jungkook’s family sits with him on this table, and they know nothing about Jungkook’s
reality. Taehyung wonders—with his parents long gone and grandfather recently departed, is
Jungkook familiar with the ins and outs of the same variety of loneliness that Taehyung
suffers everyday?

The answer comes in the form of cold seeping into his skin when Jungkook lets go of his
hand to pick up his silverware.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

and here comes the second male lead lol

i hope y'all are getting ready to stream seven!

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 Cloudy With a Chance of A Meet Cute
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

The numbers sit pretty in stark, black ink on his checking account profile. Taehyung stares at
them, at a complete loss.

$10,635.89

They stare back defiantly.

Ten. Thousand. Dollars.

No, actually. It’s over halfway to eleven thousand dollars because Taehyung had been
skimping on his meals the past month to save for the sublet deposit. Sneaking expired
sandwiches from the coffee shop counter had become second nature to him at this point.

Subconsciously, he always knew—well, he did not know but he did hope—that he’d be able
to see this kind of money one day. He just never imagined that day would be right around the
corner.

“You doing alright there?”

Taehyung looks up, sees Jimin standing at his door, eyebrows quirked in curiosity.

“Of course.” He blinks, nods.

“Your mouth was hanging open, Taehyung,” Jimin says, amused.

Taehyung has another denial at the tip of his tongue when Jimin chuckles. “I’m just messing
with you.”

“It’s something stupid,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “Trust me, not at all interesting.”
“I believe you,” Jimin says. Straightening from the door frame, he adds, “Hey, I’m making a
quick run to Whole Foods. Do you need anything?”

Taehyung is about to shake his head when it strikes him.

For the first time in his life, he actually has money to spare.

For the first time in his life, he can buy whatever wants.

Well, not whatever . But whatever at Whole Foods at least.

“Yes!” Taehyung yelps, reflexively. “Can I go with you?”

He sets his laptop aside, leaps out of bed in barely contained excitement.

“Of course,” Jimin replies, looking some blend of entertained and pleased. “It's like Satan's
sauna outside so I didn’t think you’d wanna go.”

Taehyung doesn’t know how to tell him that he had the exact thought, but the prospect of
having no restraints on his metaphorical purse is too great of a temptation.

“It’s not that bad,” He says instead, knowing full well he’s wrong.

Outside, the heat is wafting off the concrete sidewalks. The underground subway station feels
like an oven prepped for broiling. Taehyung is drenched in his own sweat by the time they
make it to Whole Foods but he has never been more excited to go grocery shopping.

“So, like how’s it been?” Jimin asks, casually.

"How's what been?"

“You know, being ‘married’ and all,” Jimin says, using his fingers to bracket the word
married. “It must be weird.”

Weird is an understatement.

Being ‘married’ to Jungkook Jeon has mostly just been surreal. Like he is surfing through life
with a helmet over his head. Everything appears distorted, nothing feels real. On some days,
he still forgets it. Wakes up in his new room, wonders where he is before realizing.

Ah.

I’m married. I’m married to Jungkook Jeon. I’m married to a soon to be billionaire.

It oscillates between disbelief and resignation.

“It’s not too bad,” Taehyung says, and shockingly, he finds that he means it. Beyond the
constant mind fuck, he has mostly experienced positive things. He doesn’t have to risk food
poisoning to make ends meet. He is living in the nicest place he’s had the good fortune of
calling his residence. He has more money than he knows what to do with.
The only thing that makes the novelty wear off at times, that jolts him out of the bubble and
makes him feel out of place is Jungkook himself.

“You like to talk almost as much as Jungkook,” Jimin quips, reaching for a small basket by
the sliding doors. Taehyung hip-checks him, goes a bit further in to grab the bigger rolling
cart.

When Jimin gives him a look, Taehyung shrugs. “I need a lot of things."

"Gotcha."

"How did you meet him anyway?” He asks to change the topic.

“Through Yoongi,” Jimin says, eyeing the wide view of all the aisles as they step into the
store. “Yoongi and Jungkook go way back. Diaper buddies, as I like to call them.”

Taehyung makes a face. “Yeah, that’s how they feel about that too,” Jimin says, chortling. “I
pull it out whenever I want to be annoying.”

Taehyung is not really listening any longer. There are a hundred things in here that he wants
to purchase. Whole Foods has always been an elusive unicorn of a grocery store to him. He
came here once in Freshman year. Out of sheer curiosity. He left starry-eyed but empty
handed and disappointed. A few days’ worth of groceries here would have exhausted his full
month’s budget for food.

So he picks things up almost blindly. Anything that looks remotely appealing, he grabs,
throws into the rolling cart. Organic strawberries plucked out of the produce aisle, neatly cut
and pre-packaged watermelon because he always hated the ordeal of chopping the whole
thing up, a brown paper bag filled with more macadamia nuts than he can realistically
consume, a small jar of fancy kimchi that costs 12 bucks a pop, fresh scallops that look like
they were harvested the very same morning.

Jimin keeps easy chatter up through the whole thing. He doesn’t try pushing for any personal
information again. Absent-mindedly, Taehyung appreciates the breathing room Jimin gives
him to engineer the grocery cart of his dreams.

A problem presents itself as they are checking out, and suddenly, there are eleven paper bags
for him to carry. All filled to the brim, almost bursting out the top.

“Uh,” Taehyung chances, wondering if he can just roll the cart all the way back to the
townhouse. It’s around ten blocks, doable only if it wasn’t so sweltering outside. Then, he
wonders if Jimin would help him carry some of the bags. He’s just about to ask when Jimin
pulls his phone out, and calls someone.

“Hey Brian,” He says, voice bright. “Good, how about you?... Yes, we’re at the Whole Foods
on 57th… Five minutes? Fantastic, see you soon!”

Taehyung must have a bewildered look on his face, because Jimin asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung says, feigning nonchalance.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to feed an army but there’s no way we can carry all of these
bags back on our own,” Jimin says, not unkindly.

Taehyung doesn’t necessarily disagree. He just didn’t know Jimin had a personal car service
on speed dial.

“It’s Jungkook’s ride,” He says, as if he can read Taehyung’s mind. “But he prefers taking the
subway, so most days Brian’s just sitting in a garage somewhere. He's on call everyday
though, so why the heck not.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says, grateful. “And thank you. I was dreading the walk back home, not
gonna lie.”

Jimin smiles, a radiant thing that lights up his whole face. “Of course.”

Taehyung didn’t really have any opinion on the guy before, but now, he decides that he likes
Jimin.

❝「☁」❞

For all the high quality ingredients in the world, Taehyung can’t cook for shit. So, when he
offers to make lunch for Jimin as a way to say thanks, he ends up almost burning down the
kitchen.

Jimin and Yoongi step in, right as Taehyung is trying to fan the smoke away from the blaring
smoke alarm with a chopping board.

“What the fuck happened in here?” Yoongi asks, alarmed.

“I–,” Taehyung starts, but is cut off by a fit of coughs. “I was trying to cook. But the
scallops,” More coughing ensues, “–the scallops, they got incinerated. I looked away for one
second, and the whole thing was on fire.”

Jimin moves to open the windows and the back door, fanning the smoke away with his hands.
“That doesn’t sound right,” He says, brows furrowed in worry.

“Well, I might have looked away for longer than a second,” Taehyung concedes. The smoke
alarm stops blaring as wisps of smoke quickly dissipate out the open windows and door.

“Do you even know how to cook?” Yoongi asks, looking very displeased.
Taehyung wants to pull back, look offended, but the answer to that question wouldn’t support
such a reaction. Chastised, he says in a small voice, “No.”

Yoongi sighs.

“I was looking at a recipe though!” Taehyung tries to explain, panicking. “I did exactly what
it said!”

Yoongi walks over to the stove, undeterred. “What did the recipe say about the heat?”

Taehyung thinks about it for a second. “Medium high?”

Yoongi turns a dial on the front, and fire comes alive in one of the stove plates. “Show me
‘medium high’.”

Taehyung knows this is a test, and he really does not want to fail lest he be charged for any
damage he might have caused to the house. But he also cannot lie. In a bid to speed up the
cooking time, he had turned the stove all the way up to the highest setting. He slowly inches
up to the stove, and turns the dial all the way to the left.

Taehyung sees the sigh bubbling in Yoongi’s chest, before he has even let it out. “Yeah, don’t
ever do that.”

“No harm no foul, babe,” Jimin says, from behind the butcher block island. “Stop being such
a grouch.”

“He could’ve started a fire,” Yoongi says, dispassionately.

“But he didn’t ,” Jimin insists. “And we were in the house too. It’s not like he left the stove
on and walked away.”

Although Taehyung feels shame bloom in his chest, he is immensely thankful for Jimin trying
to take his side. He has never had anyone defend him, not in a manner that Jimin is
attempting to right now. It isn’t just the fact that he is insisting that things did not get as bad
as they could’ve gotten. It’s also the simple implication that even if they did, the two of them
—Jimin and Yoongi—would’ve been there to help. That they would’ve had Taehyung’s
back.

The front door bursts open as Jimin and Yoongi continue bickering.

It’s Jungkook.

He pulls his Airpods out as he sees the three of them down the hallway in the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” He asks, pulling off the backpack off his shoulders and letting it rest by
the stairs.

“Nothing,” Jimin and Yoongi say at the same time, just as Taehyung says, “I almost burned
the house down.”
“No, you did not,” Jimin contests, wrapping his arms around himself. “Stop being so
dramatic. Both of you,” He adds, looking at Yoongi and Taehyung.

Jungkook looks like he could care less about what he walked into. He turns to Taehyung,
nods pointedly. “Can we talk?”

Taehyung looks at Jimin and Yoongi apologetically, before stepping out of the kitchen and
following Jungkook up the stairs.

They haven’t spoken since the end of the brunch. Taehyung was so exhausted after the event,
he didn’t even have it in him to question Jungkook about what his extended family did or did
not know about them.

Taehyung expects Jungkook to walk them to Taehyung’s room for no reason other than it
comes first. But Jungkook walks past it, and goes up the stairs, presumably to his own room.
Taehyung has not been to this part of the house, so his eyes are busy taking in the landing
when Jungkook suddenly stops and turns around. Taehyung has barely made it to the landing
himself, and he almost knocks shoulders with Jungkook.

“We need a story,” Jungkook says, unfazed.

“A story,” Taehyung repeats, knowing what he means but still wanting him to elaborate.

“Yes,” Jungkook replies, hands on his hips like he would rather be doing anything but having
this conversation with Taehyung.

The guilt and shame of his previous blunder quickly evaporates as he is filled with
annoyance. “Come up with one then.”

Jungkook looks at him, one of his brows lifting as if in challenge. “I would, but seeing that
it’s the story about how we met and fell in love, I do need a little assistance from you.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Funny you suddenly need assistance now, when you were doing
just fine keeping things from me until yesterday.”

“I thought you knew,” Jungkook contends, sighing. “Beomseok Haraboji reached out to me
after the day of the will reading. Uncle Manshik is contesting the will, and as it turns out, the
terms of the provisions aren’t exactly enforceable by law, so we gotta play this charade now.”

“What do you mean they’re not enforceable?”

Jungkook looks at him intently. His big, dark eyes are arresting but they also make Taehyung
feel small and vulnerable.

“You can’t force people to get married,” Jungkook reveals, still holding Taehyung’s gaze.
“Especially not for a Green Card. That’s immigration fraud.”

Well, of course, marrying someone you are not actually romantically involved with for the
express purpose of acquiring a Green Card is illegal. But with how the provision is so
vaguely phrased, he thought it wouldn't be a problem.
"Shit."

“Yeah, so,” Jungkook emphasizes. “We can’t let anyone know the truth.”

But a handful of people already know the truth. Jungkook can probably read it in his face,
because he adds, “We can trust Namjoon hyung and Seokjin hyung.”

Taehyung wordlessly flicks his head to the side, telepathically trying to ask about Jimin and
Yoongi.

“They’re fine too,” Jungkook says.

But Taehyung is not assuaged. Taehyung wants to scream.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” He seethes. “Do you know that I could get deported
if I’m implicated in this?”

“I am aware,” Jungkook says, so casually it borders on callous. But then, he adds more
confidently, “It’s not going to happen.”

“And how can you be so sure?” Taehyung challenges. When Jungkook only stares at him,
offering no response or assurance, Taehyung continues, “What are you going to do if our
dirty, little secret gets out, and your Uncle reports me to the ICE?”

Jungkook remains quiet.

This is especially upsetting because a Green Card is not even what he is after. He only wants
the five million dollars promised to him. He can fulfill his part of the provision simply by
living with Jungkook, he did not need to marry him. Getting married seemed like the obvious
solution, however, because Taehyung doubted Jungkook would be cool with them living
together without Taehyung setting him on a path to fulfill the clause in his own provision. It
was supposed to be a mutually beneficial relationship. A symbiosis of sorts, where they come
together, to come out better off the other end.

Now, he's at risk of never coming out the other end, of being caught in the oblivion in
between.

“Are you even going to do anything?” Taehyung asks, feeling small. So small and
insignificant. “Do you,” He hesitates. “Do you even give a shit?”

Taehyung is not sure he wants to find out.

“Listen to me,” Jungkook says urgently, stepping forward and placing his hands on
Taehyung's shoulders. “You are not going to get deported, alright? I’m not going to let that
happen.”

If Taehyung thought Jungkook was looking at him intently before, now his eyes are blazing
something bright and icy. He looks determined, like he means what he just said with the
entirety of his being.
“I do give a shit,” He adds, softer this time.

Taehyung realizes with a quiet gasp, that Jungkook is almost chest to chest with him, closer
than he has ever been. He realizes with quiet wonder, that he can see the moles on
Jungkook’s face. Faint dots scattered across his nose and cheek like an unknown constellation
of stars.

Jungkook catches him staring at his moles, and Taehyung has the mortifying realization that
it could have looked like he was staring at his lips.

He jolts out of Jungkook's grasp as if electrified. That in itself is embarrassing too. What a
moronic overreaction. But anything is better than Jungkook thinking Taehyung wants to kiss
him.

He does not.

To his credit, Jungkook only looks surprised for a split second.

“I have too much to lose in this too,” He says, smoothly letting his hands fall to the side.

The breath Taehyung didn’t even know he had been holding fizzles out of his lungs. Like a
balloon pricked, he deflates.

“I’m going to make sure both of us get what we want out of this.” Jungkook takes a step
back. Suddenly, he's looking uncomfortable too. Like they’re talking to each other for the
first time. Like they’re strangers.

Taehyung supposes they are strangers.

“How?”

How do I trust you?

“You'll just have to see.”

You shouldn’t.

Jungkook is stubborn, Aunty Mina had said. With a set jaw and hard, unblinking eyes, he
looks like it right now. Like he will bend the rules of the universe to keep his word. Like he
really does mean it when he says he gives a shit. Maybe he doesn’t give a shit about
Taehyung specifically. But he clearly does want his grandfather’s fortune. He has twenty-five
million dollars to his name already, likely much more.

And yet.

"I just need your help, okay?" Jungkook admits, eyes imploring. "I need you to be fully
onboard for this to work. This needs to work."

He still wants the rest of it.

Whether or not money can buy happiness is perhaps the wrong question. Money gives people
purpose. It gives them drive. It plain gives. The sky's the limit as to what and how much.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

It has to be enough.

Maybe that’s why Jungkook is ready to slum it out with the likes of him to get the rest of his
inheritance.

And maybe that’s why Taehyung is ready to tell a colossal, life altering lie.

To live it.

Even at the risk of self-sabotage.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, finally. “We need a story.”

❝「☁」❞

“You two are disgusting,” Jimin says, with a scrunch of his nose.

Jungkook scoffs. “It’s sweet and savory. What’s not to like?”

“You can’t argue with that,” Taehyung agrees, stuffing his face with a slice of the Hawaiian
pizza Yoongi had ordered for lunch.

The kitchen is still a mess after Taehyung’s early afternoon cooking debacle. But they still sit
around the butcher block island, sharing a large New York pie, half pepperoni and half
Hawaiian for lunch.

“And pepperoni is basic as hell,” Jungkook says, picking up a new slice. “Maybe look at your
own life choices before commenting on others’.”

“Jungkook Jeon,” Jimin gasps, feigning offense. “How dare you mock pepperoni? It’s
sacred.”

“Sacred like your ass?” Yoongi teases, and Jimin promptly swats his arm. “Ow!”

“So anyway,” Jimin says, taking a big chunk off of his own slice. “You need to concoct a
story about how you two fell in love? Did I overhear that correctly?”
Taehyung almost chokes on a mouthful. He’s knocking his chest with his fist when Jungkook
hands him a bottle of water wordlessly. He takes it gratefully, pulls a big chug, and lets his
throat settle.

Jimin is looking at them with an amused smile. Taehyung is just about to ask if he has
something on his face when Jungkook says, “Don’t mind him. Nothing ever escapes him.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Yoongi adds, ruefully.

“Will you two stop making me sound like some horrible gossip monger? You know the walls
in this house are paper thin. And it’s not my fault you guys were out there in the open, talking
quite loudly,” Jimin defends himself. The pout on his lips makes it difficult for Taehyung to
take him seriously.

Jungkook chuckles, actually lets out a little laugh. The corners of his eyes scrunch in mirth.
They make him look soft, boyish. From up close, he is dazzling. Taehyung is so taken aback
he fails to mask his fascination.

Jimin clears his throat. Taehyung whips his head to turn to Jimin—fortunately, before
Jungkook notices he has been staring—who looks at him smugly. He isn’t sure what Jimin is
on about, but he decides now is not the time to ask about it.

“Why not go with the easiest story? You guys had a class together,” Yoongi says, shoving the
last of his crust into his mouth.

“We never had a class together,” Taehyung shares, disappointed. That would have been the
most obvious, simplest story to tell. What a missed opportunity.

“Yeah, we did,” Jungkook corrects him, playing with the uneaten crust of his slice. Taehyung
turns to look at Jungkook in question.

“Freshman year, first semester,” Jungkook says, looking at him. “Astronomy I.”

Freshman year, first semester had been an exercise in struggle for Taehyung. His first time
away from home and family had hit him harder than he anticipated. He remembers very little
from that semester. Only that he almost flunked out of a couple of classes, because he could
barely get himself to get out of bed and go to classes. The homesickness had been unexpected
and debilitating.

“You had Higgins for Astronomy I?” Taehyung asks, drawing a complete blank about seeing
Jungkook in that class.

Jungkook nods. “You didn’t come to class very often.”

Taehyung blinks, and in his surprise, the words easily slip out. “I thought coming to America
had been a mistake. I seriously considered going back home.”

The word home spills funny from his tongue now. After four years in America, he is no
longer certain where his home is. Or what it even means.
“Oh,” Jungkook says, clearly at a loss. He looks almost apologetic, but before he can say any
more Jimin chimes in.

“Well, that’s great!” Jimin exclaims. “You two met in class!”

Taehyung is faltering a bit. The first time Taehyung saw Jungkook he couldn’t look away all
night. How had he missed him for a whole semester before that?

“Oh, do I have a story for you two,” Jimin says, excitedly clapping his hands. “Let’s say the
TA mixed up your graded papers, and you had to go on a goose chase across campus to find
each other.”

“Err.” Taehyung is skeptical.

“No, no, listen!” Jimin continues, looking much too enthusiastic about a made up story. “It’s
the perfect meet cute!”

“Meet cute?” Jungkook asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah, when two people meet each other for the first time in a cute way,” Jimin provides,
impatiently. “It’s a romance trope, Jungkook. Keep up with me here, please.”

Jungkook looks even more puzzled than before, and despite himself, Taehyung is amused.
“What comes after the meet cute?” He asks to indulge Jimin.

“Jungkook,” Jimin points at him, assertively. “You were the one who first noticed the papers
were mixed up. Taehyung had a busy week, so he just shoved it away so you had to go
through many friends of friends to locate Taehyung. And when you finally did,” Jimin
pauses, for dramatic effect. “It was the wrong Taehyung Kim!”

Jungkook takes a moment to digest this, then scratching his head, asks, “Why can’t it just be
the right Taehyung Kim?”

Strangely, Taehyung's stomach swoops hearing Jungkook call him the ‘right’ Taehyung Kim.

“A good story needs twists and turns. Trust me,” Jimin insists, waving his hand dismissively.

“I don’t know about that,” Jungkook says, looking at Taehyung uncertainly.

“Well, I do,” Jimin says, adamantly.

Yoongi nods in agreement.

“Because get this—the wrong Taehyung Kim did happen to know the right Taehyung Kim so
he led you to him,” Jimin continues the story, merrily pointing at Taehyung now. “But only
after a whole weekend of going off the grid because he lost his phone at some frat party.”

“This seems a bit–”

“Detailed and pointless?” Yoongi asks, smiling wryly. “That’s why it’ll work.”
“I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm following,” Taehyung says, confused beyond measure.

“It's a boring story,” Yoongi deadpans, shrugging. “You gotta say more than is necessary.
That’s the only way to make sure people don’t ask questions. Just inundate the story with the
most mundane minutiae to exhaust them. Leave them not wanting more.”

"But weren't we going for a 'good' story?" Jungkook asks. "Jimin just said a good story needs
to be convoluted,"

"That's not what I said," Jimin protests. "I said it has twists and turns."

"That would quite literally make it convoluted."

"Jungkook," Jimin says, sternly. "You're missing the entire point."

"No, actually," Jungkook says, doubling down. Shaking his head, he adds, "I don't think I
am."

Taehyung has never seen Jungkook talk this much. He has never seen him engage with his
friends in a manner that demonstrates they are actually friends. He always seemed stiff and
closed off when he moved with his circle around campus. But maybe that's the difference.
Taehyung hasn't seen any of those friends around Jungkook since graduation.

Now, Jungkook looks relaxed—his shoulders loose and lips curved into an imperturbable
smile.

"Listen," Jimin says, hands sitting heavily on his hips. "You're getting caught up in details
that don't matter. We need to devise a story that is, first of all, convincing. Nothing easier to
buy than two boys crossing paths in a class. Then, it needs to be ordinary enough that it
inspires absolutely no sense of awe. That really is the key. You don't want to impress people,
you want to do the opposite of that."

Jungkook eyes Jimin, doubtfully.

"'Good' in this case means something that'll serve the purpose, not necessarily something that
is qualitatively good."

Jungkook turns to Taehyung, an eyebrow raised in question.

What do you think?

Taehyung honestly does not have a better idea so he just shrugs.

“It’s decided then!” Jimin yells, victoriously.

Taehyung catches Yoongi looking at his boyfriend fondly.

“It’s a great relief to society at large that you are a dancer, not a writer,” Jungkook says,
shaking his head.
 “And yet, you are going to be using my story,” Jimin says, triumphantly.

Jungkook just continues shaking his head, smiling.

"Now, we need a story for the proposal!" Jimin declares, with excitement.

Taehyung and Jungkook both groan in unison.

Luckily, Jungkook has to go pick up Bam from daycare shortly after. Before leaving,
however, he exchanges a look with Taehyung. A meaningful look as if to reassure him.

Everything'll be okay.

Later that night, as he lays awake in bed, Taehyung thinks about the way Jungkook’s moles
were situated on his face. About how he had said the ‘right Taehyung Kim’. About how he
had all but promised to make things work for Taehyung.

It’s cooled down considerably since the afternoon, so Taehyung has left the windows open.
The moonlight filters in through the gently swaying curtains, dancing with the shadows like
two entangled threads spinning round and round.

Taehyung watches the light and shadow waltz together.

He wonders about how Jungkook Jeon had not only noticed but also remembered him since
the very beginning.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

* ICE denotes U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement

seven killed me, y'all. i'm posting this from my grave. damn, jk.

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 Cloudy With a Chance of Wishful Thinking
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

Several layers of clothes line Taehyung’s body. He is cold. He can’t feel his ears, nose, or lips,
but he can see his breath.

It’s the dead of winter, and he sits alone in a cold, gray room.

Taehyung lifts his gloved hands, brings them to his mouth and blows hot air on them. He rubs
them together, like one might with two twigs trying to spark a kindle. Hoping to do the same.

The scene suddenly changes. Now, he is in the living room of his house. The one he grew up
in. Seated on the floor, at the little table they lug into the sparse, open space to eat together.
There’s an electric heater running in one corner of the room. His siblings quarrel, pushing
each other, wanting to claim the seat closest to the heater to keep their back warm while they
eat. Taehyung has the thought to chastise them, to make them stop and leave the seat open for
their mother, who has been experiencing back pain as of late. She works as a maid, has spent
the whole week cleaning after some rich brats.

But he knows his mother will only shush him. Pretend to be fine, so the kids can claim the
prize. A measly prize, but on this bleak, winter evening, a win none the same.

Taehyung notices there’s food on the table. It wasn’t there just a moment ago.

Across from Taehyung, his father scoops the rice out of a small bowl, dumps it into a bigger
bowl of kimchi jjigae.

The pungent smell of ripe kimchi suddenly floods his nostrils. The scent is so overpowering it
illogically messes with his eyes. His father slowly morphs into his mother, who pushes the
bowl of kimchi jjigae with a dunk of rice across the table, to him.

“Taehyung-ah,” She says, smiling. “You have been eating well, right?”

Taehyung jerks awake.

Everything is dark, but it is not cold.

He realizes he’s sweating, and kicks the comforter off.

His eyes are open, but they see nothing.

He thinks about his mother, isn’t sure why seeing her in his dreams, even the perfectly
innocuous ones, leaves him feeling rattled like he’d had a nightmare.

He checks his phone, sees it’s almost 4 in the morning. It’s the day his internship officially
begins.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, finds the ripe, tart scent of old kimchi still hanging in the air.

His first thought is that his dreams have started invading his conscious mind. But then, he
hears a clatter. A loud one.

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Taehyung makes to get out of bed and walks to his door. The
smell is even stronger now.

With a start, he realizes it’s not his dream bleeding into his senses anymore.

He’s fully awake, and the smell is real and makes him ache for home even more.

Tentatively, he opens his door and peaks out. The hallway is mostly dark, pierced only by a
slice of light that slithers in from the foyer downstairs. Taehyung steps out, and starts making
his way down.

There is more noise filtering out from the kitchen. Whoever is in there is trying to be quiet,
Taehyung can tell. But now that he’s awake and inching closer, it’s easy to identify the
sounds.

A delicate cling of ceramic placed on the marble countertop. A small clatter of a spoon
placed next to it. A sigh, tired and anxious. And lastly, a sound that is one of Taehyung’s
favorites—the insistent bubbling of hot stew simmering gently.

Taehyung sees Jungkook staring into the refrigerator, hands holding the doors open. He has a
baggy black shirt and pinstripe trousers on. Clearly, Taehyung is not the only one having
trouble sleeping.

“What are you doing?” He asks, simply.

Jungkook startles, almost bumping into one of the refrigerator doors.

“Jesus Christ,” He swears, a hand flying to his chest. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Taehyung shrugs.

“Who the heck walks without making any sound?” Jungkook asks, clearly irritated. “Are you
a ghost or something?”
“You were loud, Jungkook,” Taehyung accuses, even though he would have never heard
Jungkook if he hadn’t already been awake.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook grumbles, scowling. “I try to be quiet but, you know.”

“What are you making?” Taehyung asks, more interested in Jungkook’s culinary outcomes
than his excuses.

He knows before Jungkook even answers that it’s Kimchi Jjigae. The smell is divine up
close.

“Kimchi Jjigae,” Jungkook says, as expected. “It’s just about done.”

Taehyung eyes the pot on the stove, and his mouth waters. His eyes flit to Jungkook
expectantly.

Jungkook stares at Taehyung like he expects him to say something, but when he doesn’t, he
sighs. “Do you want some?”

“Yes, please,” Taehyung blurts out.

“Wow,” Jungkook says, brows raised in surprise. “I’ve never gotten a response out of you
faster.”

Taehyung’s cheeks feel hot, but his embarrassment is no match for his hunger for a taste of
home. “I’m hungry,” He says, gruffly.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who gets the munchies in the middle of the night.”
Jungkook turns to a cabinet, and picks another ceramic bowl out.

Realizing he will need to engage in conversation, Taehyung tries to show interest. “You have
trouble sleeping often?”

“My sleep cycle is all fucked up,” Jungkook says, setting the bowl next to his on the counter.
“I’m up till 5 most nights. Or mornings.”

“Till 5?!” Taehyung blanches, tearing his eyes away from the pot of stew for the first time.
“Don’t you have things to do in the morning?”

Like the rest of us plebeians , Taehyung wants to add but doesn’t.

“Not right now,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “I have a week until my internship starts.”

“Oh lucky,” Taehyung says. “Mine starts in about,” He plucks his phone out of his pocket,
and looks at the time. “—Four hours.”

“Oof. That’s rough,” Jungkook says, sympathizing.

He turns off the heat on the stove, and moves the pot to a placemat on the counter. Taehyung
notices the rice cooker is on the other end of the counter. He pulls a couple of rice bowls out
of one of the cabinets, fills them to the brim with scoops of rice.

Jungkook doesn't miss Taehyung’s familiarity with the kitchen. “Have you been cooking a
lot?” He asks, pouring the stew into their bowls with a big ladle.

“No,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. “I’ve been eating a lot though.”

Jungkook laughs, eyes scrunching. Taehyung’s stomach swoops.

Something warm blooms in his chest as Jungkook passes him a bowl of piping hot stew. He
accepts it with one hand, and passes a bowl of rice with another.

An equal exchange.

The first slurp of the stew is heavenly. It’s not quite as good as his mother’s rendition, but it’s
flavorful and hearty. Taehyung revels in the taste, the smell, the simple comfort of being fed
by someone else.

“This is incredible,” He tells Jungkook, hoping the magnitude of his gratitude is conveyed.
He has not had a nice, home cooked meal like this in ages. “Who taught you how to cook?”

Taehyung expects a sentimental answer like one of his aunts, or perhaps a maid he grew up
with.

Instead, Jungkook just says, “Youtube.”

Taehyung chortles, surprised. He almost chokes on a spoonful of rice.

“What?” Jungkook asks curiously, shoveling food into his own mouth.

“It’s just,” Taehyung starts, still chuckling. “I don’t know, I thought maybe you learned it
from someone you know.”

“No one I know knows how to cook,” Jungkook says, matter of factly. Thinking upon it
more, he adds, “Well, that’s not entirely true. Yoongi hyung is amazing with all sorts of BBQ.
We call him the ‘Meat Master’.”

“The Meat Master?” Taehyung asks, in half disbelief and half disgust. “I’m sorry, but do you
realize how bad that sounds?”

“Of course,” Jungkook says, chuckling softly. “That’s why it’s funny.”

“I’m sure Yoongi hyung appreciates it.”

“Oh he absolutely loathes us for it,” Jungkook confirms.

“I can’t say that I blame him,” Taehyung says. Yoongi always looks so unbothered and stoic.
It’d be interesting to see him angry about a petty thing like this.
“What?” Jungkook asks, his spoon clinking against the lip of the ceramic bowl. “You don’t
have any off putting names you call your friends?”

“No,” Taehyung says. There have been people he’s been in study groups with or grabbed
lunch with a few times, but Taehyung has never had what Jungkook seems to share with
Yoongi and Jimin.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, awkwardly, clearly for lack of a better response.

“This really is so good, by the way,” Taehyung says hastily to dispel the cloud of
awkwardness that almost settles over them. “It reminds me of my mom’s jjigae.”

“You must miss your parents a lot,” Jungkook says, a look of sadness in his eyes.

Taehyung does. He misses his parents and siblings so much sometimes he feels like he can’t
breathe. He yearns for the days when their voices were always chiming in the background.
But after four years apart, the pain has also dulled. He feels incredibly guilty about this, but
on most days, he doesn’t even think about them anymore.

Give it time, they say. Time will heal every wound, they say. What they don’t say is that the
wound never heals, you simply just develop a sort of numbness to the pain.

“You must miss yours too,” Taehyung says, carefully. He wants to be more cautious about
what he says after his blunder the day of the wedding.

“I didn’t really know them,” Jungkook says, and it’s impossible to miss the look of regret in
his eyes.

“You can miss things you never knew,” Taehyung says, ruefully.

Jungkook seems unsure. He looks at him uncertainly, as he scrapes his bowl for the last of his
rice.

“I miss the person I would’ve been if I never came to America,” Taehyung says, trying to
articulate the strange dissonance that sometimes muddies his mind. “I long for the times I
never got to spend with my family. Sometimes, I miss my grandparents even though they
passed away before I was born. My parents told me about them. Made me feel like they
would’ve adored me, spoiled me silly.”

“That’s just wishful thinking,” Jungkook says, unimpressed. His arms lean against the edge
of the island, putting his tattoos on display. Taehyung wonders if Jungkook ever had any
wishful thoughts, any longing permanently etched on his skin.

“Aren’t most things wishful thinking?”

“Not if you just accept your reality.”

“That’s not possible for everyone.”

“Of course, it is. It’s a choice. Everything is.”

Therein lies the difference, in that response. Living in abundance, where everything under the
sun is ripe for your picking, and living under scarcity, wherein resources are limited and the
opportunity to choose something you truly want is rare to come by.

The difference between having a personal car service and chauffeur on call, and fighting with
your sibling for the warmest seat in the house on a freezing night.

“Maybe, but it’s disparate,” Taehyung says, voice even. “Some problems aren’t multiple
choice questions. If there is only one option, is that really a choice?”

No, a choice is just an action without autonomy.

Taehyung thinks about Jungkook’s parents, his grandfather. For all the material wealth he
possesses, he can never bring them back. Jungkook must realize this too, because for the first
time since they started talking, he does not dig his heels in, does not act like he knows better.

“I suppose you’re right,” He acquiesces, and there’s only one thing that comes to mind when
Taehyung hears him speak.

Melancholy.

“I’m really sorry about your grandfather,” Taehyung says, sincerely. “And I’m sorry that I
made it sound like it was a good thing. It could never be.”

Jungkook stiffens.

Taehyung witnesses it firsthand, the exact moment Jungkook shuts down. A veil of distrust
suddenly cloaks his eyes. The slightest of creases cuts in between his brows. His mouth,
relaxed and open until then, purses definitively, forming into a thin line like a boundary
Taehyung is not allowed to cross.

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook says, picking up his bowls and depositing them in the sink. “You
should get some sleep.”

Taehyung nods. “You too. Thanks for the jjigae.”

Jungkook turns to Taehyung, looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. He starts
walking out of the kitchen. Taehyung looks at his own empty bowls, his stomach full and
heart hollow.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook calls from the foyer. Taehyung looks up, sees him lingering by the
foot of the stairs. “Good luck.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait to hear Taehyung mutter a flustered thanks .

❝「☁」❞
For as much time and effort Taehyung has expended on the study of Machine Learning and
Artificial Intelligence, Taehyung finds the field ambiguous at best.

The hypothesis is simple enough—feed data into an application, make the application
informed, let the application self-actualize.

Well, that’s a little too rudimentary of a breakdown, but the main points are there. In between
the main points, however, there are innumerable questions unanswered. Too many to
definitively, with any sense of certainty, make assertive claims about the phenomenon like so
many people like to do.

Taehyung knowingly picked a low paying internship at a startup that just completed their first
round of Series A funding because of this. Because there is much to be uncovered in the
field, much to be studied and validated.

His first week at Condition goes breezily. There are only six people on the team, seven with
him. The founder, a second generation Haitian immigrant, is one of the smartest people
Taehyung has ever met. At 32, Ronke is only ten years older than him, but he can’t help but
feel she is light years ahead of him in knowledge and ability. He interviewed with her in the
final round, and left feeling confident he was making the right choice even with the lower
pay.

During his three month stint at Condition , Taehyung will be helping create use cases and test
scenarios for the refinement of one of the lower branches of the central product—an
application with a complex set of neural networks computationally engineered to mimic
biological neural networks. It’s not much, but it’s closer to what he wants to be doing than
anything Google or Amazon had to offer. After spending a few days at the office, he’s even
more certain that he made the right choice.

Taehyung is also not sure he is quite ready to say goodbye to this vibrant, kaleidoscope of a
city. After all these years, he is used to the chaos of it all, a little too comfortable with it. The
city has a heartbeat of its own. After many months of trial and error in his first couple of
years, he feels his steps now match the cadence of that rhythm. When he strides through the
city streets, he feels like the city moves along with him, matching him step for step.

He’s just wrapped up his day at Condition , and started walking to Union Square. Taehyung is
meeting Jungkook there. He had texted earlier in the afternoon, letting him know that they
were invited to Kwon Beomseok’s home for a chat.

Taehyung has no idea what to expect. Anxiety thrums under his skin now that he knows what
he’s using as collateral for a shot at the five million dollars. He had thought he had nothing to
lose. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he would have probably never agreed to do this if
he had known the full implications of the choice.
Union Square is packed with all sorts of crowds this time of the evening. Despite the masses
though, it’s not difficult to spot Jungkook. He’s standing by a hot dog cart right outside the
station entrance, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other cradling his phone. As most New
Yorkers stationary when out in the city, he’s studiously looking at his phone.

“Hi,” Taehyung greets as he approaches the station entrance.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, slipping his phone into his pocket. “How was your day?”

“Great,” Taehyung says, offering a small smile. “How about yours?”

“Not bad,” Jungkook shares. He’s wearing a button down shirt, and black trousers. Business
casual. Taehyung wonders if he came from home or somewhere else.

The 14th Street-Union Square station is a madhouse during rush hour. The Number 6 train is
packed, and Taehyung feels a bit like a sardine in a can with countless others. Due to the lack
of space, he is leaning against the backdoor, with his backpack wrapped around his chest.
Jungkook stands in front of him with a hand looped around a pole. They are headed to the
Upper East Side, so fortunately, it should not be too long of a ride.

Taehyung sways every time the train comes to a screeching halt, and props its door open at a
new station. The ebb and flow of passengers coming in and out mostly evens out, so the tight
space around them does not open up. At 28th Street, a big group of passengers swarm in. The
new wave pushes the carriage to capacity, a scenario that’s very common for the New York
City subway system. A middle-aged man, in his haste to make room for the new passengers,
ends up backing into Jungkook. Jungkook swings forward, crashing into Taehyung with a
thump.

Taehyung gasps when Jungkook slams his hand on the glass window next to Taehyung’s face
to keep himself upright. When he catches his breath, he sees Jungkook looking at him in
apology, his face dangerously close to Taehyung’s. The backpack squished between their
chests remains the only thing wedging some distance between them.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters, looking away.

“S’okay,” Taehyung says, tightening his fists where he’s holding the sides of his backpack.

But it is indeed not okay. They are so close now, Taehyung can feel the ghost of Jungkook’s
touch on himself. He remembers the other day, when Jungkook had grabbed his shoulders in
an urgent effort to comfort him. He remembers the way he had been able to spot the moles on
Jungkook’s face. Against better judgment, Taehyung chances a look at Jungkook’s face again.
His gaze is turned away, so Taehyung can see the moles he had missed previously. He has a
few across his cheekbones, a couple around the lobe of an ear, one at the slope of an eye like
a star on a downturn.

Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung, and their eyes meet. Taehyung freezes. Jungkook
doesn’t look angry as a small part of Taehyung had feared he might for daring to study him in
such close proximity. The Jungkook he had observed through their years at Columbia liked
his space. But here, now, he doesn’t look the least bit bothered.
He just looks.

Jungkook looks at him, and like Taehyung had done, his eyes seem to roam the expanse of
Taehyung’s face. Like Jungkook, Taehyung has distinct moles on his face as well. Taehyung
wonders if Jungkook sees them, if they inspire the same sort of wonder Jungkook’s inspire in
him.

“Do you have enough room?” Jungkook mutters, voice unusually low like he’s sharing a
secret.

Taehyung nods, his eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. “Do you?” He asks.

Jungkook moves his other hand, the one that had been holding on to a pole, places it on the
train door, right next to Taehyung’s shoulders. “Yes, I do.”

Taehyung heard Jungkook say the exact same words on the day of their wedding at City Hall.
It made him feel nothing then. Right now, Taehyung’s heart skips a beat.

And he feels it like a song missing a beat and going out of sync, like a straight line that
shoots off course when someone jostles your elbow, like the sun and the moon embracing
unintentionally paints the world in black.

There is no wiggle room between them. Nowhere to escape. So Taehyung just looks. He
looks as Jungkook’s eyes map the stretch of his skin, as they slowly drag down to his lips,
and remain there. Taehyung’s lips are parted. They have been since Jungkook inadvertently
closed the gap between them.

Taehyung dares to let his eyes dip. He slowly goes from the long lashes fanning against
Jungkook’s cheeks, to the small mole on the tip of his nose, to his lips that become wet when
his tongue pokes out momentarily.

The train suddenly screeches to another halt. The doors slide open, and a substantial number
of people step off at the Grand Central Station. The little corner they had been crushed into
expands. Jungkook clears his throat, and takes a step back. There is a respectable distance
between them now.

“We should be there soon,” He says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Great,” Taehyung says, like he didn’t already know that.

Jungkook turns away, seeming to scrupulously examine a map of Manhattan plastered on the
wall.

Taehyung stares at an ad for pet insurance, waiting for his erratic heart to slow down.
 ❝「☁」❞

Things are back to normal as soon as they are off the train and out of the station. Jungkook
strides through the busy street to find Kwon Beomseok’s place like nothing happened
between them.

Nothing happened, really , Taehyung corrects himself.

They’re on a street lined with beautiful townhouses, typical of the Upper East Side.
Taehyung’s favorites are the ones that are lined with a brick facade. His interest quirks up a
bit when Jungkook leads them to the stoop of one such townhouse.

“This shouldn’t take long,” Jungkook says, like he thinks Taehyung does not want to be here.
Maybe it’s him who does not want to be here.

Taehyung has no such scruples. He knows meeting with Kwon Beomseok will help provide
more clarity around their arrangement. He has all the time in the world for this conversation.

Jungkook knocks on the door. There is a few moments’ pause, and the door swings open.

Taehyung expected to see the old man himself, but in his stead stands Bogum.

“There you guys are,” Bogum says, unmistakably looking at Taehyung only.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, surprise evident in his voice.

“It’s nice to see you too, Jungkook,” Bogum says, stepping aside to let them in. “Please come
in.”

The front door opens up to a foyer with a long, spiraling staircase. The floor is covered in
black and white checkered tiles. There is a huge ornate mirror across from the foot of the
stairs. Taehyung sneaks a quick glance at himself, notices a couple of stray hairs. He
conspicuously tries to fix his hair, hoping to make sure he doesn’t look frazzled even though
he still feels it a bit.

Bogum lifts his hands, dusts something off Taehyung’s shoulders.

“You had something there,” He says, smiling. Taehyung smiles back, thankful.

He turns to Jungkook, and is surprised to see him frowning. He remembers their interaction
at the brunch, short and fraught with tension. Even now, Bogum is almost exclusively talking
to Taehyung, as if Jungkook is not even there.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, in a small voice.

Jungkook stares at Bogum. “Yeah, let’s go,” He says to Taehyung, grabs his hand and pulls
him past the foyer into what looks like the living room.

Beomseok is seated in front of a large TV, a documentary about tiger sharks playing on it. He
gets up off the arm chair, makes his way to the sectional.

“Sit down, boys,” He says, taking a seat himself.

Jungkook and Taehyung find themselves sitting across from Beomseok, a white marble
coffee table between them. Bogum stands by the living room entrance, making no move to sit
down or leave.

“I just wanted to make sure,” Beomseok begins, smiling at them both. “That you understood
my role in all of this.”

Taehyung appreciates that the man gets straight to the point. He is not entirely sure why he
was summoned so skipping the pleasantries is fine by him.

“Your role?” Jungkook asks, furrowing his brows. “You are the trustee of the will. Is there
anything else?”

“Well, that’s it, the Trustee,” Beomseok replies, slapping his hand against his knee. “But as
the Trustee, I will be the sole judge of whether or not you have fulfilled the clauses of your
provisions.”

“So you’re like a warden?” Taehyung asks, confused. Bogum snickers at that. When
Taehyung looks to him for a clue, he only smiles at him.

“Not quite a warden,” Beomseok says, chuckling as well. “But—”

“The asks of the provisions are pretty clear cut,” Jungkook interjects, looking confused
himself. “Either we live together or not. Either Taehyung gets Permanent Residency or not.
What’s there for you to judge?”

“Jungkook,” Beomseok begins, adjusting his glasses. “You are half right. Permanent
Residency is a clear cut outcome, but the clause for Taehyung’s provision—that you two
must live together—is more ambiguous.”

Taehyung and Jungkook look at each other, unsure what the older man is talking about.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks, finally.

“There’s no saying whether or not you are actually living together unless there is someone at
the premises to surveil you,” Beomseok clarifies.

“You want to plant someone in the house to make sure we’re living together?” Jungkook
asks, incredulous. He sneaks a quick glance at Bogum, as if he expects him to step in and
declare he’ll be the one to do it.
“Don’t be silly,” Beokseom says, waving his hand dismissively. “That is much too
excessive.”

“What is it then?” Jungkook asks. “What do we need to do?”

“You’ll come see me, the both of you, every two months,” Beokseok says. “For a check-in of
sorts.”Softly chuckling, he adds, “Of course, I have no way to verify you are actually living
together, but I like to think that these old eyes can still see through things.”

“So,” Taehyung ventures, not entirely sure he understands the implications of this new
requirement. “You just want us to come over once in a while, and what, chat with you?”

“We’ll eat together," Beomseok offers, with kind eyes. “I’d like to get to know you Kim
Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s name, surname first, sounds foreign to his own ears. It’s been too long since he
has been Taehyung Kim, since he stopped being Kim Taehyung. It hadn’t escaped his notice
that Jeon Ilsung had similarly addressed him as Kim Taehyung in his letter. It must be in the
same way that his name always comes to Taehyung’s mind, surname first too. Hearing his
name said like that now, in the correct manner, stirs something in him. A nostalgia for his
former self, and for the person he would have been if he had never left home. The one he had
told Jungkook about.

Taehyung nods. Jungkook does not say more, in support or protest. As if recognizing that the
conversation is over, Beomseok stands up from the sectional. “Now, if you two will excuse
me, I have a documentary I need to get back to.”

A school of tiger sharks drift underwater on the TV. Beomseok had not paused the
documentary when he stepped away, so Taehyung wonders how much he really cares about
it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go on a walk instead, Harabeoji?” Bogum asks, craning his
neck from across the room.

“Will you leave me be for just a moment, Bogum-ah?” Beomseok says, chiding playfully.
“Your Harabeoji does not need a babysitter.”

“Alright,” Bogum says, smiling. “But let me know if you need anything.”

Beomseok waves his hand, and Bogum turns to Taehyung and Jungkook, as they start making
their way out of the living room.

“When did you get back?” Surprisingly, it’s Jungkook who speaks up.

Bogum’s smile slips a bit. “It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“How long are you here for?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

Jungkook scoffs, smiling derisively. “Just stay out of my way.”

“I have no reason not to,” Bogum says, his lips as tight as his words.

Taehyung stands between them, looking back and forth. He considers excusing himself so
they can sort out whatever business they have going on, but the conversation is clearly over
before it even begins.

When Jungkook starts to walk, Bogum turns to Taehyung. “It’s good to see you again,
Taehyung.”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, dumbly. “You too. I didn’t know you were related to Mr. Kwon.”

“Not many people do,” Bogum says, easily. “I moved to California with my mother when I
was in high school. It’s my first time back in the city since then.”

“Nice,” Taehyung says, just because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Okay, well. I guess
I’ll see you around.”

“Here,” Bogum says, handing his phone over to Taehyung. “Why don’t you give me your
number? You can hit me up if you ever have any questions. I know you're new here.”

Taehyung can see Jungkook behind Bogum. If he thought Jungkook looked tense before, now
he looks like someone’s spat in his drink. Before Taehyung can respond to Bogum, Jungkook
steps out, letting the front door slam on his way out.

Taehyung watches him go. He takes Bogum’s phone from his hand, types in his number for
no reason other than to be polite.

“I gotta go, but it was good to see you again,” He says, thrusting the phone back into
Bogum’s hands.

Taehyung almost expects Jungkook to have left on his own, not caring how Taehyung gets
back home. But he’s waiting on the sidewalk, standing by a Japanese maple tree. When
Taehyung climbs down the stairs of the stoop, Jungkook looks at him. Taehyung expects
Jungkook to be upset, to lash out at him for reasons he has no way of knowing. He had
seemed so angry at Bogum just a moment ago.

But Jungkook only gives him a small smile.

“You ready?” He says, curtly.

“Yeah," Taehyung says, nodding.

“Let’s go home.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat again.

 ❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

thanks to the lovely PredawnLight for beta-ing this chapter. 💜

don't forget to stream seven!!!

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 Cloudy With a Chance of An Offer
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s definitely something.”

“I literally don’t see anything there.”

“Nah, man, focus. You’re not looking hard enough.”

“If I look any harder, my eyeballs will pop out of their sockets and roll onto this dinner
plate. And then, we’ll have a surprise special delicacy on the menu—much to Eomma’s
chagrin—and I still won’t have seen anything.”

“It’s right there ,” Namjoon almost yells, shaking his phone in front of Seokjin’s face.

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, diplomatically. “Just because I don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not
there, bud.”

“Do you guys ever just talk like normal people?” Jungkook interjects, poking at a potato
with his fork.

Somehow, when Jungkook told him about dinner at Aunty Misun’s place last week, this
is not what Taehyung had envisioned. Currently, Namjoon is trying to show Seokjin a
picture of a painting he had recently acquired—an optical illusion of patterns resembling
little mountains that supposedly reveal a sleeping turtle if one looks with focus.
Taehyung fully expects Namjoon to pass his phone around the table to get the rest of
them convinced that he is not imagining the turtle.

“Define normal,” Seokjin says, cutting into his steak.

“Make conversation without acting like the fate of the entire world is at stake,”
Jungkook teases, rolling his eyes. “You guys are both so dramatic.”
“I think I’d worry something is wrong if they stopped bickering like this,” Aunty Misun
shares, chuckling. “People say their lives change when they have their first kid, but
Seokjin was perfectly manageable by himself. No, my life changed the day Namjoon
was born.”

“How can you say that about your own son, Eomma?” Namjoon says, feigning hurt with
a hand over his chest.

“I say it because you’re my son,” Aunty Misun counters, laughing.

Taehyung had expected Aunty Misun to be a terrifying matriarch. Every single time he
has seen her, though always from a distance, she has given off the energy of someone
who’s not to be messed with. Manshik Jeon had been volatile and explosive, but Misun
Jeon had seemed quietly formidable. She didn’t make a scene at the will reading, but
Taehyung had a feeling that she was just laying in wait for the right time.

This is not what any of us wanted , she had said back then.

“Jungkook-ah,” Aunty Misun calls, softly. “You’ve been looking so thin lately. Have
you been eating well?”

“Yes, Aunty,” Jungkook says, with a sigh. “I eat just fine.”

“I think it’s time I visit soon,” She says, taking a dainty sip of her red wine.

“You’re welcome to visit any time, Aunty,” Jungkook professes.

“How’s your steak, Taehyung?” Aunty Misun asks, smiling. Taehyung has been
surprised by how warm she has been to him, if nothing else.

“Oh,” Taehyung sputters, not having expected the attention to be diverted to him. “It’s
good, Aunty. Very, very good.”

Taehyung isn’t much of a steak person, but he isn’t lying. It dawns on him that he’s
probably just not had good steak until tonight, which is why he hasn’t been a fan.
Anything high end will always taste better. Rich people eat well, like they do everything
else.

“Glad to hear that. It’s been a while since we’ve all been able to get together, so I just
wanted to do something simple,” Aunty Misun says, with a tinge of regret. She sits at
the end of the dark mahogany dining table as the oldest, while the rest of them flank her
sitting across from each other.

Taehyung nods. “I was wondering about Aunty Mina and–”

“Oh, Mina and Michael are in Tokyo. They’re taking Nora to a Summer Tennis Camp
and making a family vacation out of it.”

“Ah,” Taehyung voices, nodding. Aunty Mina had seemed nice enough at her brunch, so
he had hoped to see a friendly face at the dinner table. Disappointment filled him when
it became clear she was not going to be in attendance.

“Have you ever been, Taehyung?” Seokjin asks, casually. “To Tokyo? It’s quite a quick
flight from Seoul.”

Quick, but expensive flight. Even if he could afford the plane tickets, he wouldn’t be
able to do anything in Tokyo with how expensive the city is. Being asked if he has been
feels comical for that reason.

“No,” Taehyung answers, coolly. “Never had the opportunity.”

“You two should go,” Aunty Misun suggests, nodding. “You haven’t even been on a
honeymoon yet, have you?”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, fidgeting at the thought of going away to a beautiful place
to spend time with him exclusively.

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, not giving anything away. “I don’t know if it’ll be possible
with both of our internships though.”

“Oh, how’s that been going?” Soohyun, Namjoon’s fiance, asks, showing genuine
interest.

Namjoon and Soohyun sit beside one another. They seem so in sync, their body
language fluid and in sync, perfectly parallel. Taehyung has no way of knowing, but he
suspects they are holding hands beneath the table. They seem like the type.

Momentarily, he thinks back to Aunty Mina’s brunch where Jungkook had reached for
and held his hand. Quietly, with no ceremony or pretense, he had touched Taehyung in a
way he had never been touched before.

Taehyung shakes the thought off. “It’s going well,” He says, perking up at the topic of
his work. “It’s a small team so I feel like I’m getting an idea of what everyone does,
which is really cool.”

He likes the gig so far. Everyone seems nice, and they have gone out of their way to
make Taehyung feel welcome. He has been asked to go on a couple of coffee runs like
any old intern, but he is also exposed to cutting edge work in a field he is passionate
about so he really can’t complain.

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, trying to pass the baton.

“Mine’s been alright too,” Jungkook says, curtly. “The people are cool, and the commute
isn’t so bad.”

With a start, Taehyung realizes that he actually doesn’t know much about what
Jungkook does. He thinks he was an English Literature and Finance major, but he isn’t
even sure about that. Scrunching his eyebrows, Taehyung makes a mental note to ask
him about it.
“That’s great,” Soohyun says. Laughing, she adds, “It’s actually funny. We’ve got quite
a few recent grads at the table tonight.”

Taehyung and Jungkook smile, nodding. Soohyun had graduated from Berklee in May
as well, and just moved to New York City to be with Namjoon as they prepared for their
wedding.

“How are you liking being back in the city?” Taehyung asks, as she had previously
mentioned that they lived together in the city before Soohyun had to move to Boston for
a year for grad school.

“You know,” Soohyung starts, turning to look at Namjoon. “It kinda feels like I never
left. Maybe because I’d lived in the city for several years by the time I left, but it’s been
like I picked up right where I left off.”

Taehyung understands that sentiment about the city. The city is somehow constantly
evolving— living, breathing, thriving on its own—without losing the distinct set of
individualities that make it a collective wonder.

Living in New York City is a feeling that never gets old, and rarely, if ever, changes.

It’s life in technicolor.

“Tell them about the cello, babe,” Namjoon encourages, excitedly.

“Cello?” Aunty Misun asks, waving for a maid to refill the empty glasses on the table.

“Hah,” Soohyun chuckles, her face bright with mirth. “It’s so crazy. There’s this thrift
store in Harlem that I always went to before I moved to Boston. I went back a couple of
weeks ago for the first time in, geez, I don’t know, almost a year. Anyway, I was in
there, and I saw this old cello that looked really familiar.”

Soohyun is petite, and Namjoon towers over her. But as she continues her story,
Taehyung wistfully thinks that they’re probably one of the best suited couples he has
ever come across.

“It was the cello I learned how to play on,” She says, disbelief dripping through her
words. “I couldn’t believe it, but it had my initials and my birthday inscribed on the
bottom.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Seriously?”

“Yes!” Soohyun continues, blushing with joy. “We lost it during a move when I was in
high school. I was devastated, and it took me months to warm up to a new one. I’d
actually completely forgotten about it. Who knew it was going to find its way back to
me years later!”

“Serendipity,” Namjoon says, smiling at her fondly. This time, Taehyung can see that he
is holding her hand by the movement of his upper limbs.
“Serendipity,” She repeats, looking at him fondly. “It was meant to be.”

It does not sound like they’re talking about the cello any longer. Taehyung feels an urge
to ask them about how they first met. Their own meet cute, as Jimin would have put it.
But that might open the door to having the same question turned over to him, and even
though they have a story, Taehyung would rather not tell a blatant lie if he can help it.

“Okay now, love birds,” Seokjin cuts in, tone jokingly disenchanted. “There’s no need to
make the singles in the room jealous, now. Right, Eomma?”

“Seokjin Kim, if you don’t stop jabbering nonsense this second!”

“I only speak the truth,” Seokjin says, seriously. “Besides, there’s no shame in admitting
you’re single and ready to mingle.”

“Please stop talking about our mother like that,” Namjoon protests, cringing. “And no,
she does not need your help setting up an online dating profile.”

Taehyung’s curiosity about Namjoon and Soohyun’s relationship persists.

“Why a winter wedding?” Taehyung asks, going for a low hanging fruit. Something that
hopefully won’t elicit questions for himself.

All eyes turn to him.

“We didn’t want to wait until spring,” Namjoon responds easily, like it’s the most
obvious thing in the world. He looks at Soohyun like she hung the moon over his night
sky. His smile is anchored by the dimples in his cheeks, and her eyes shine like they
reflect his adoration.

Taehyung feels a pang of longing for something he’s never had. At college, he went out
a few times, made out with strangers here and there, but it never went beyond that. His
nights out usually ended with him passing out in his own bed, alone and wanting. It was
easier then, because he barely had any time to himself between classes and part-time
jobs to be thinking about boys. But once in a while, when he gets into a certain mood, he
wonders if he maybe should have put himself out there more often. If maybe he had put
in even an ounce of effort, he would’ve met someone worth skipping classes for. It’s
always been an abstract, ambiguous feeling, this yearning for someone who would care
enough to break down his walls and pull him out of resigned despair.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers, looking at him curiously. In the background, Seokjin is

talking about which dating app has yielded the best results for him as his mother hits his
arm in affront.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks.

Taehyung sees the concern in his eyes. He wonders how much of it comes from genuine
interest in his well being, and how much from the fear that if Taehyung slips, their ruse
will be blown along with the claim to his inheritance.
“Taehyung?” Jungkook asks, again.

Taehyung startles, realizes with a pit in his stomach that the abstract longing now pulls
like a thread towards Jungkook.

Jungkook, his husband, who at best, tolerates him. Jungkook who sees him as a means
to an end. Jungkook who thinks he dresses poorly.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” He offers, nodding. Jungkook smiles in return, his new lip ring
glinting prettily.

Taehyung never took himself for a masochist, but maybe he is one if he has a crush on
Jungkook Jeon.

After dinner, Taehyung excuses himself to use the restroom. He is really only going
because he needs to splash water on his face, jolt himself out of this daze because liking
Jungkook is just not an option.

The water is cool against his hot face. An instant relief. He looks at his reflection in the
mirror, silently tells himself now is not the time or place to have a mental and emotional
crisis over Jungkook Jeon. Shaking his head to get rid of the jitters, he steps out of the
restroom.

“A word, Taehyung?” Someone says from behind the restroom door.

It’s Misun Jeon.

The entire evening she had been cordial with him and indulgent with her sons and
nephew. Taehyung had to wonder if he had imagined the animosity he’d felt wafting off
of her at Aunty Mina’s brunch.

“S-sure,” Taehyung says.

She closes the restroom door, inches closer with her arms crossed under her chest. “I
must commend you. Appa was a skeptical man by nature, so it was no easy feat, to be
sure.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Taehyung says, dreading the direction she intended to
take the conversation.

“The will,” She says, gruffly. “You got your name in somehow, but I see right through
you.”

Taehyung freezes. “Wha-what,” He stutters, like someone has him by the throat. “It’s
not lik-.”

“Save it, Taehyung,” Aunty Misun says, raising her hand. “I am not here to hear your
excuses. I have little interest in the how or why. I doubt you’d be telling the truth
anyway.”
Taehyung shakes his head, denying his culpability.

“I have an offer for you.”

“An-an offer?”

“Yes,” She says. “A million dollars.”

Taehyung tilts his head in confusion. “I’m sorry. What about a million dollars?”

“A million dollars in your bank account,” Aunty Misun adds, looking pleased like the
cat that got the mouse. “As soon as you leave Jungkook for good.”

Taehyung is flabbergasted for a moment. As he stares at her, trying to comprehend her

preposterous offer, she only smiles knowingly.

“You’re set to receive five million dollars, but that’s in a year, Taehyung,” She says,
with mock concern. “Anything can happen in a year.”

“But with this,” She continues, inching closer. “With this, you can secure an early
payday, and leave all the uncertainty behind. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Taehyung is not a fool. He has been aware from the very beginning that he does not yet
have the five million dollars on lock. And she is right, between today and a year from
now, any number of things could unravel the whole thing leaving him with not a penny
in his name.

Someone is contesting the will as they speak. The threat of immigration fraud and
deportation is not insignificant. He could die tomorrow, and if he did, the money would
never be his.

It wouldn’t make it to his name, so it won’t find its way to his family.

There is merit in this offer, a sense of guarantee that the will does not provide.

But accepting it would screw Jungkook over. And maybe that’s not something Taehyung
should concern himself with since Jungkook is a fucking multi-millionaire even without
the rest of his grandfather’s fortune.

But it’s a fact he can’t take lightly that it would still cause him irreparable damage.

“Think about it,” She says, pulling him out of his head. “Let me know when you make
up your mind.”

She brandishes a business card and slips it into Taehyung’s hand.

“Now,” She continues, smiling. “I think dessert is just about served.”

It’s impressive how she is able to slip the mask of a gracious host perfectly over her face
in the time it takes him to blink. If Taehyung didn’t know any better, he would’ve
thought she even liked him.

When he gets back to the table, Jungkook gives him a smile. A small thing that seems
genuine. Taehyung wonders how fast that smile would be wiped if only he knew that
Taehyung is considering ditching him for good.

❝「☁」❞

Taehyung is packing a peanut butter sandwich for lunch for the fourth day in a row,
when Jimin walks into the kitchen. Jimin is usually not up this early, and he
appropriately looks half asleep.

“Good morning,” Taehyung offers.

“Bad morning,” Jimin returns.

Taehyung chuckles, slathering peanut butter on his bread. “Why are you up so early?”

“Audition,” He says, leaning his elbows against the butcher block island. “I have to
refine this routine I’ve been working on.”

Taehyung has never seen Jimin perform, but he would’ve guessed he was a dancer even
if he hadn’t been told. Jimin moves with a fluidity that Taehyung has not seen before. He
does not walk, he glides, light on his steps and with elegant, precise movements.

“Do you ever eat anything else?” Jimin asks, staring at his sandwich.

Taehyung ate like a king for a week after his big grocery haul. Before he could go on
another Whole Foods rampage, however, he happened to check his bank balance.
Somehow, he’d blown over three thousand dollars in the span of a week. He had been so
sure it was a mistake, because no way had he really spent that much money. Besides the
groceries, Taehyung had also bought a new MacBook, which he needed for his
internship. But that still only accounted for less than half the amount he’d swiped
through.

As it turned out, the rest was all online shopping.

After Jungkook’s comment about his clothes, he had felt a personal responsibility to his
tattered dignity to make an effort to dress better. He didn’t realize he’d gotten so carried
away while at it.
The numbers added up in the end, and Taehyung was reminded of a terrible thing he had
always known—it’s much, much easier to spend money than it is to earn it. So now,
Taehyung was back on penny pinching mode. Buying bread and peanut butter from the
bodega two blocks down.

“Sure, but this is just so much easier,” Taehyung says, not entirely lying.

“You’re not wrong there,” Jimin says, straightening up and walking over to the
refrigerator. He pulls out a can of sparkling water, and dips his finger in the peanut
butter jar while passing by Taehyung.

“You stop that,” Taehyung says, trying to swat Jimin’s hands away.

“I swear I just washed my hands,” Jimin says, licking the peanut butter off his finger.

Taehyung had been more concerned with resource saving than hygiene but he’s a little
ashamed to admit that, even to himself. Jimin has been nothing but kind and shared his
own food with him on more than one instance.

“I can make you a sandwich if you’d like,” Taehyung offers, trying to make amends.

“Nah,” Jimin says, shrugging. “I’m grabbing a bite with a friend later.”

“Gotcha.”

“How was dinner last night?” Jimin asks, popping open the can of the sparkling water.
Raising his chin, he takes a deep swig.

“It was good,” Taehyung says, almost reflexively. Not like he can say anything about
how it really went, or what had been Aunty Misun’s real intention in inviting him over.

“That’s great,” Jimin says. Frowning a bit, he adds, “I gotta be honest though, Aunty
Misun just scares the crap out of me.”

Taehyung’s interest is piqued at that. “Why? She seems nice.”

“It’s just something about her,” Jimin says, waving his hands around himself in a
circular motion. “Aura, you know.”

“Huh,” Taehyung says, feigning measured interest, only because he is dying to know
more.

“Yeah, she adores Jungkook, but she’s such a mama bear, I would not want to get on her
wrong side,” Jimin says, shaking his head.

Taehyung had noticed her fondness for Jungkook, and her two sons, at the dinner last
night. For someone who could be so unflinchingly cold, she was also shockingly warm.

“Where did you meet her?”

“She visits sometimes, stocks the fridge with all sorts of banchan,” Jimin says, dreamily.
“Can’t complain about that part.”

Taehyung must look surprised, because Jimin adds, “I know, she doesn’t seem like the
type, does she?”

“No,” Taehyung agrees, stuffing his sandwich into a ziplock bag.

“Yeah, she’s quite the personality. One of the biggest philanthropists in the city, a very
present and dedicated mother and aunt, and she does all of it by herself!”

“Is her husband not in the picture?”

“No, they divorced when the boys were very young. Supposedly, he moved to Germany
and started a new family there. He’s not in the picture at all.”

Taehyung had figured he hadn’t been in the picture for one reason or another, but he had
not imagined it would have been due to a voluntary choice on his part. As someone who
can’t imagine his life, his identity without his family—oceans away as they are—it’s
unfathomable to Taehyung that someone would leave his family behind to start a new
one. Like moving on from one unsuccessful business to start a new one. How callous
would one need to be to do that.

Some people are just built differently, he supposes. Their needs are not attuned to the
well being of anyone but themselves.

“Anyway,” Jimin drawls, yawning. “I’m off to the rooftop to do my stretching

exercises.”

“The rooftop?”

“Yeah, have you checked it out yet? It’s beautiful.”

“No, I haven’t really ventured past the second floor,” Taehyung says. He has been
curious but reluctant to encroach on Jungkook or Jimin and Yoongi’s space, uninvited.

“Why not?”

“Just been very busy.”

“Well, whenever you get a moment, you should go check it out.”

Jimin leaves him with that and a smile. Taehyung mentally plans to check out the
rooftop. It’s rare in the city to have a rooftop in your house, but then again, Jungkook is
a millionaire. There’s probably nothing in this world that is rare for him. Nothing that is
outside of the realm of possibility.
 ❝「☁」❞

Patience has never been Taehyung’s strongest suit, so as soon as he gets a hint of green
light to explore the rest of the house, he goes for it.

Ronke had allowed him to leave early as it was a slow day at Condition . The team is
working on a new iteration of a data ingestion pipeline, so there isn’t much for Taehyung
to do beyond study the documentation and observe the requirements gathering. So when
he arrives home earlier than usual, he makes a beeline for the rooftop.

The third floor landing looks much the same as the second floor. Yoongi and Jimin’s
room has the door propped open—Taehyung can see a framed picture of the two of them
on top of a desk next to a neatly made bed. Jungkook’s door appears to be closed, which
is unsurprising given how closed off and guarded he generally is. Taehyung doesn’t try
to pry into either of the two private spaces, more interested in exploring the rooftop.

The landing for the fourth floor opens up to a wide sunroom—a veritable glass box of a
unit that reveals the indomitable evening sun. Light shines through the ceiling to floor
windows on rows upon rows of plants—everything from the trendy monstera to more
exotic pickings like anthurium boasting red crowns. It’s not difficult to imagine why the
plants are thriving so much with the amount of light that invades the room.

The glass box has a glass door that leads to more green on the other side. Taehyung
tentatively approaches the door, and steps out onto the concrete patio. There are
countless more plants outside, flowers and succulents lined in humble terracotta pots.
It’s a sight straight out of the few nurseries Taehyung had visited in the city for no
reason other than nostalgia. That, and they were free. The patio is quite large, and wraps
around the perimeter of the townhouse, so that the sun room looks like it’s surrounded
by swaths of primary colors—mostly green but also some red, yellow, and blue.
Taehyung walks the path up to the railing, and chances a look down to the ground. From
just four floors above, the street doesn’t look particularly small but it’s still funny
watching people move down the block like little Sims characters. The houses both to the
left, right, and across the street all have arid landscape with nothing but concrete, water
tanks, and pipes to show off.

Taehyung takes a big lungful of air in. It’s hot and humid, but it’s not often he gets to
have an unobstructed view of the sky so he revels in the impossible openness of the
sight.

He turns around to assess the edges of the patio that wrap around the sunroom. And
almost has a heart attack when he sees Jungkook crouched over a small hill of cacti.

Through some miracle, Jungkook has not heard him sauntering about. Taehyung takes it
as his chance to make a swift escape, but he almost trips over a pot of a bushy plant; and
alerts Jungkook to his presence.
Jungkook turns around.

“Taehyung?” He asks, so casually that Taehyung feels less like he’s been caught red-
handed in the middle of trespassing.

“Hey,” Taehyung greets, awkwardly throwing a hand up.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, setting the watering can he had been
holding down.

But there it is. The question that implies he should not, in fact, be here. That he is
intruding upon someone’s space, someone who may not strictly be a stranger, but they
are not a friend either.

“I-I was just,” Taehyung stutters. Then, emboldened by the realization that he wasn’t
really committing a crime, or doing something that had been explicitly prohibited, he
says, more evenly, “I thought I’d come check out the roof.”

“You haven’t been here before?” Jungkook asks, and unintentional as it may be,
Taehyung is grateful for the easy pass he gets. He isn’t in the habit of living in other
people’s spaces, and so does not have the intricacies of what is and isn’t okay down pat.

“Not until now.”

“Well, this is my little garden,” He says, holding his arms open and out. “You’re
welcome to come hang any time."

“It’s really beautiful,” Taehyung compliments, sincerely. “Feels like a true rarity in this
city.”

“A lot of people have rooftop gardens,” Jungkook says, shrugging. More softly then, he
adds, “But thank you.”

“It must have taken a while to get all of this going,” Taehyung inquires, curious about
how long he’s been working on it.

“Oh, this isn’t all my work,” Jungkook says, looking around pensively.

Taehyung raises his brows in question.

“Harabeoji, um, he is a-, I mean,” He stumbles, and shakes his head. “He was a very
avid gardener.”

Taehyung is surprised Jungkook just voluntarily shared something about his grandfather.
Normally, he shuts down completely any time there is even the slightest indication that
the conversation might turn in that direction.

“He must’ve loved these plants very much,” Taehyung says, gently. “They look very
well cared for.”
“He did,” Jungkook says, pulling the gardening gloves off his hands, one by one. “We
lived here.In this house, together, before I moved out for college.”

Taehyung is curious. He has many questions he wants to ask Jungkook, like is it difficult
to be here because of the memories, what was it like growing up in the city, how does it
feel to watch things bloom to their full potential, or even, how was his day? But before
he can pose any question, Jungkook speaks first.

“Do you know much about plants?”

“Um, I worked part-time at a nursery back home,” Taehyung shares, shrugging. “It’s
been a while so I’ve forgotten most of what I learned but I do recognize a lot of these
guys.”

“That’s really cool,” Jungkook says, smiling. “Would you like to take a look around?”

Taehyung nods, smiling.

“A lot of these are still coming back around after winter. I have to take them inside
every year, and bring them back out in spring.”

“With how awful the winters get here, it must be really hard,” Taehyung wonders,
thinking back on how they had to shut half the nursery down to create the right thriving
environment for plants during the harsh, Daegu winters.

“Yeah, there were several that didn’t make it, but it’s just the way it is,” Jungkook says.

“That can’t be easy,” Taehyung says, sympathetically.

Somberly, Jungkook answers, “It’s happened enough times that I’m used to it now.”

His words feel heavy, ripe with meaning beyond the welfare of plants. Taehyung thinks
about Aunty Misun’s offer—how accepting it would not be much different than one of
the plants Jungkook cares for withering away in the dead of winter. A loss, or perhaps
more accurate, an abandonment.

“It’s a pretty awful thing to get used to,” Taehyung says, looking at the plants that are
doing well, the ones that did survive the winter. “It can’t be easier just because it’s
happened before.”

Jungkook turns to look at him. There is a shadow over his eyes that belies an unspoken
pain. “Yeah, but it’s best not to dwell on it. It wouldn’t bring them back anyway. It
wouldn’t change anything.”

Taehyung understands where he is coming from. He wants to comfort him, but how is
that even possible? How do you tell someone who’s lost the most important person in
his life that things will be okay? Things can never be okay, not even if the goalpost for
what ‘okay’ entails is moved.
“These African violets are doing really well,” Taehyung says instead, pointing at a row
of shimmering, purple flowers. He tries to adopt Jungkook’s philosophy. Maybe refusing
to acknowledge pain is the best way to get away from it. “We always struggled to get
them to thrive in our nursery. They don’t do so well being a small fish in a large pond.”

Jungkook crouches in front of the African violets, rests his elbows on his knees and
looks at them fondly. “These have been through some rough times.”

“And yet, they bloom all year round,” Taehyung says, crouching right next to Jungkook
to admire them with him. “They were always my favorite.”

Jungkook turns to look at Taehyung, as he internally fawns over the light shimmering
off of the petals of the violets. When he turns to look back at Jungkook, Taehyung
realizes that he's really close. Not as close as they had been in the train, but still close
enough that he can see right into Jungkook’s eyes.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook says, his voice deeper than usual.

Taehyung blinks. Jungkook’s eyes are open, vast, like they carry a whole universe of
stars inside them.

“Yeah,” Taehyung mutters, struggling to find his voice.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says, gently.

“For what?”

“I know this isn’t ideal.”

“What isn’t?”

“This,” Jungkook mumbles, looking regretful. “Between us.”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung says, voice barely above a whisper. He isn’t really sure what
exactly he’s saying is fine.

“No, it’s not,” Jungkook says, blinking prettily. “I—”

He is interrupted by a loud bang. The sound of the front door being slammed shut.

“That’s probably Jimin,” Taehyung says, jolting out of the moment. He stands abruptly
to put some distance between them. “Um, do you have a favorite plant?” He asks, just to
bring them both back down to the ground.

Jungkook looks sobered up at that. His eyes do not glint the way they had just a moment
ago. Instead, they look present and still. “Yes,” He says, standing up and dusting his
shirt. It's got flecks of mud on it that get scattered around the concrete path.

“That one,” He says, pointing at a plant right next to his cacti hill.
“Euphorbia?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a fun onel,” Taehyung says, eyeing the succulent. “I think it needs more water.”

Its body, though lush, has leaves that look droopy and dry.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, conclusively, like he doesn’t intend to say more.

The air is thick with awkwardness between them now. Taehyung is plotting a quick
escape when Jimin bursts through the sunroom door.

“Guess who’s got a callback for a second round?!” He asks, throwing his hands up with
a flair.

“Congrats, Jimin,” Jungkook says, turning to Jimin.

“Congratulations!” Taehyung exclaims at the same time.

Jimin’s eyes flit between the two of them. Taehyung prays he can’t sense the thick
tension in the air.

“Did I just interrupt something?” Jimin asks, smiling playfully.

“No!” Taehyung and Jungkook speak at the same time again.

“Sureee,” Jimin teases, knowingly. “Whatever was going on though, can you guys
shelve it for one evening?”

“Nothing was going on, Jimin,” Jungkook says, sighing.

“That’s irrelevant now,” Jimin snips, gloating. “I need you guys to get ready because
we’re going clubbing to celebrate.”

Taehyung is shaking his head before Jimin has even finished his sentence.

“I don’t think so,” He says, apologetically. “It’s not really my scene.”

“Oh come on, Taehyung,” Jimin croons, pouting. “It’ll be so much fun, I promise.”

Taehyung has never been clubbing, but he has been to house parties that felt like it.
Nonstop techno music, a dizzying smorgasbord of neon lights, and a house full of
strangers never suited him well. He never understood how people socialized in places
like that. What seemed to come naturally to everyone else, felt like trial by fire for him.
Taehyung usually relied on alcohol to tamp down the anxiety, drank more than he could
handle, and ended up crouched over the toilet bowl. Taehyung is still shaking his head,
unsure how to get out of it when he hears Jungkook.
“You don’t have to stay for long,” He says, shrugging. “I’ll probably only stay for a
couple of drinks. We can head back together.”

Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so reluctant.

❝「☁」❞

The lights shift from green to blue to pink, gliding upon faceless bodies like streaks of
pulsing auroras. Some bouncy song about fucking seven days a week plays with bass
turned up to the high heavens. Taehyung feels the music thump against his skin, tastes it
in his alcohol-dipped tongue, sees it in neon painted across the dark walls.

“I love this song!” Jimin yells to be heard over the music. “Come on, let’s dance!”

He pulls Taehyung from where he was perched on the edge of the bar stool, drags him
into the fray of sticky bodies moving to the rhythm of the song. Taehyung looks back at
the bar to catch Jungkook and Yoongi nursing their drinks. Yoongi takes a sip of his rum
and coke while Jungkook watches him with eyes that flash in hues of neon.

Jimin carves a space out for them right in the middle of the dance floor. This would
normally be the antithesis of everything Taehyung finds fun, but he is tipsy enough at
this point that the proximity to strangers does not bother him.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Jimin shouts, putting his hands over Taehyung’s shoulders
and jumping to the beat. “You look so fucking hot!”

When Taehyung had tried to use his lack of clubbing appropriate attire as another weak
excuse to get out of tagging along, Jimin had presented his own closet for him to pick
whatever he wanted from. In the end, it had been Jimin himself who put together an
ensemble of a shimmery silk shirt in royal blue, and a pair of loose fitting black trousers
for Taehyung. Per Jimin’s instructions, Taehyung had also left the first three buttons of
the shirt unbuttoned, revealing his neck and the sharp dip of his collarbones.
Taehyung felt hot at that moment. It helped a lot that Jungkook’s eyes had lingered on
him through the whole train ride over to the club.

“So do you!” Taehyung yells back at Jimin, because it’s true. Jimin is dressed in a pink
mesh shirt that leaves very little to the imagination. Taehyung eyes the big blocks of
letters that stretch across the side of his torso in black ink.

NEVERMIND , they say.

Taehyung decides to let go of his inhibitions and do exactly that.

They dance for a while. The songs change, but the energy that seems to pump electric
waves through his veins do not let up. By the end of the third song, Taehyung is soaked
in his own sweat, his skin so hot that it’s teetering on the edge of discomfort.

It happens then. Someone slips behind him, and he knows it’s Jungkook without even
looking. It’s probably because Yoongi shows up behind Jimin at the same time, but his
alcohol-addled brain tells him it’s because he can recognize Jungkook’s breathing.

He puts his hands on Taehyung’s hips, and he naturally hitches his ass against
Jungkook’s front.

“Is this okay?” Jungkook whispers into one of his ears.

Taehyung twists his neck to look at his face. He knows Jungkook has had at least two
shots of tequila, roped into them by Jimin. He is probably similarly uninhibited like
Taehyung himself.

“It’s more than okay,” Taehyung decides, looking into his eyes.

They dance together then. Bodies lined back to front, moving in tandem like they’re
more or less one entity. Jungkook’s hands creep up from his hips to his waist, they wrap
around and tighten, pulling him even closer.

Logically, Taehyung knows grinding is no big deal in America. He has danced like this
with people in house parties before without exchanging a single word, forgetting their
faces by the time the next song starts. It’s a spur of the moment thing, and can be as
much about letting loose, about liberation than hooking up.

In this instance, however, with Jungkook insistently pressing against his ass and his
hands gripping Taehyung’s waist, it feels like they are toeing around an invisible line. A
line that has always existed between them, a divide ruled by differences in too many
things to count.

Taehyung is feeling bold though. Alcohol has always made him brave, made him
impervious to things like consequences and aftermath. Like the only thing that matters is
the here and now.

And here and now, Jungkook seems to be on the same wavelength as him. It gives
Taehyung that last push, that definitive swoop of courage that makes him twist around
and grab Jungkook’s wrist by his hand and start pulling him through the crowd. In
search of a dark corner, where they can continue dancing in other ways that seem more
appealing right now.

Taehyung catches Jimin’s eyes on his way out. He winks knowingly, gaze heavy with
mischief and approval.
It takes longer to find their way out of the crowd than it had for Jimin and him to slither
in. But, Taehyung manages to finally find an out, which spills right into the hallway that
leads to the restrooms. He moves swiftly, drags Jungkook along to a section that is not
exposed to the flashing lights. Taehyung turns around and backs into a wall, pulls
Jungkook into him, so Jungkook’s hands are immediately on his hips again, his face
right in front of Taehyung’s.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook says, looking dazed, drunk. A little delirious even. He tightens
his hold on Taehyung’s hips, slips a leg in between Taehyung’s thighs.

Taehyung gasps at the contact. He’s been half hard since they started dancing, since the
moment Jungkook’s crotch ground against his ass for the first time. He almost chokes
when he realizes that Jungkook is hard too.

“I like the way you dance,” Taehyung whispers, lips on his ears. Then, putting his arms
around his neck and lining their chests, he adds, “I like the way you feel.”

Taehyung can’t get over how handsome Jungkook is. The perfect combination of soft
and hard with his big eyes, round nose, and his firm muscles and sleek tattoos. He would
very much like to be devoured by him, Taehyung thinks greedily.

Jungkook is panting. He looks into his eyes, brings a hand up to cup his face.

“I…” He starts, dragging his thumb over Taehyung’s parted lips, eyeing it like he’d like
to swallow them whole. Taehyung pokes his tongue out, licks the thick pad of his
thumb.

Jungkook moans, a sound so sweet that Taehyung feels singularly focused on it even
through all the noise in the background.

Taehyung expects Jungkook to kiss him. He needs him to do it. They are both breathing
so hard, one’s inhale bleeds into the other’s exhale until they’re breathing each other.

Jungkook brushes Taehyung’s nose with his own. He noses his cheeks, traces the lines
of his cheekbones with his lips. Taehyung feels so high on the proximity, it feels like he
can almost taste Jungkook’s tongue. He wants to taste it for real.

When Jungkook keeps lingering around his cheeks, his jaws, Taehyung decides to take
matters into his own hands.

“Kiss me,” He says, panting softly.

Jungkook brings his focus back to Taehyung’s eyes, looks at him like he’s already lost in
them.

“Please,” Taehyung adds, so sure Jungkook will do it now. There is but a mere inch of
distance between them. Taehyung can’t wait any longer, his lips gravitate towards
Jungkook’s like a moth might chase the promise of a spark.

“No,” Jungkook says, turning his face away. “Not like this.”
Taehyung is so dizzy he does not recognize what has happened for a second.

When it hits him, it feels like someone poured a bucket of ice, cold water over his head.

He startles then, pries himself out of the corner he had backed himself into.

“Taehyung, please,” Jungkook says, closing his eyes.

But Taehyung can’t hear anything past No . It sounds inside his head like a bell
determined to blow his eardrums out.

“I’m sorry,” He says, and pushes past Jungkook.

Taehyung dives into the throng of people on the dancefloor, but he has no recollection of
passing through it. He finds himself at the bar suddenly, dizzyingly sober in a sense even
though he’s still very much drunk. He calls for the bartender, orders a drink, orders
another, and another. He can’t remember drinking any of them.

From there on, the night is a blur.

The taste of rejection and alcohol bitter in his tongue, the only constants.

No .

No.

No.

Just like the rejection he faced at the hands of his classmates, as they got annoyed when
he couldn’t articulate his thoughts at the drop of a hat. Or the way, even when he did,
they couldn’t find an iota of patience within themselves to not let his accent cloud their
judgment. Like the way they laughed when he mispronounced words, or the way they
stared at him when he sat by himself in the dining hall.

They thought he was a nuisance, and now, Jungkook probably does too.

It all rains down on him at once. That potent hatred he nursed to be able to grow a thick
skin and not let anyone make a joke of him again. He vowed that would never happen,
that he would sooner not participate in anything than face the sting of rejection, of
ridicule.

But here he was again—rejected by someone he had begun to care about. And beyond
the bitterness and hatred, one thing prevailed stronger.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.
 ❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

pls consider leaving your thoughts if you are enjoying the story.

i had to make chapter seven a little slutty in honor of seven. hope y'all enjoyed! 🤗
also, shout out to PredawnLight for being a darling beta.

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curiouscat
 Cloudy With a Chance of A Kiss
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

Taehyung’s head feels like it’s one step away from an explosion. His mouth is sandpaper-dry.
His eyes are bleary; blinking them open feels like he’s fiddling with a hairpin trigger.

The sun is cruel with its luminance. It’s almost unbearable the way it splashes on his face in a
burst of exuberance he has nothing but disdain for.

At times like this—the aftermath of a night out when a rancid mix of disorientation, disgust,
and shame has him curled up into a ball—he often muses. Wouldn’t it be nice if the world
shut down at his whim? If just because he felt ill at ease, for any reason, be it honorable or
otherwise, he asked for a universal time out and the cosmos somehow obliged. Allowed him
the time and space to wallow in self pity a bit.

Taehyung is not entirely foreign to this very specific brand of self-loathing. It comes with
using alcohol as a crutch, relying on it to boost your self-esteem for a couple of hours. It
makes you brave. It makes you stupid.

A pillow lands over his head with a soft poof. Taehyung groans.

“Get up,” Jimin commands, picking up the pillow and hitting his back with it. “It’s past noon
already.”

“I don’t want to,” Taehyung whines, turning away. A soft pitter-patter of paws sneak into the
room, and approach the bed.

“I told you Jungkook is not home. He left a while ago to meet up with the hyungs,” Jimin
says, as if that is supposed to make him feel better. Bam jumps into the foot of Taehyung’s
bed, and starts digging into his duvet to make himself comfortable.

“He will be back though,” Taehyung emphasizes, miserably. “Maybe I should take this
chance to fake my own death, escape to a no name mid-western town, and start a new life.”

If the night had ended with his failed advances to Jungkook, Taehyung would merely want to
dig a hole in the ground and burrow in it for a while. It was a major misstep, but Jungkook
had come put his junk against Taehyung’s ass. Taehyung didn’t make a move based on thin
air.
But the night had gone on.

And so had Taehyung.

He doesn’t remember half of it. Only being drunk out of his goddamn mind, thrashing against
strangers on the dance floor, and at the end, vomiting his guts out over a grimy toilet while
Jungkook rubbed his back.

And it didn’t end there.

Taehyung remembers flashes of their train ride back home. Sitting inside a near empty B
train, as it roared through dark tunnels. Jungkook, with his arm around Taehyung’s side,
while Taehyung rested his head on his shoulders, slipping in and out of sleep.

Then, the grand finale.

Feeling unbearably nauseous as Jungkook assisted him up the stoop, taking wobbly steps
inside the front door. And, then throwing up right over the very nice, expensive looking
carpet in the foyer.

An unmitigated disaster.

Taehyung hopes Jungkook worked his rich man magic, and did not actually have to clean the
mess up. The thought of anyone having to clean his vomit up is mortifying, but the idea of
Jungkook doing it is somehow exponentially worse.

“Quit being so dramatic, oh my god,” Jimin admonishes, roughly pulling his duvet. “It
honestly wasn’t even that bad. So you made a fool of yourself in front of your crush—”

“I don’t have a crush on Jungkook,” Taehyung cries out, scrunching his face. From the foot
of the bed, Bam lets out a long sigh.

“Sure,” Jimin chides, rolling his eyes. “Even Bam doesn’t believe you.”

“Bam is a dog! It doesn’t matter what he thinks!” Taehyung shouts, grumpily.

“Fine! I’m not a dog, and I think you have a massive crush on Jungkook,” Jimin retorts,
throwing another pillow at Taehyung. It bounces off Taehyung’s shoulders, lands on his side.
Bam pushes himself up and trods over to the pillow, looking for a more comfortable perch.

“No, Jimin,” Taehyung returns, finally straightening up. A sharp bolt of pain strikes the space
between his eyes like a flash of lightning. Wincing, he continues, “Seriously, it’s not like
that.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin deadpans, putting his palm up to cut through the bullshit. “Anyone with
an eye, not even two eyes but one, can tell that you like him. It’s okay, alright?”

“You are being completely preposterous!” Taehyung protests.

“As a matter of fact, I’m not,” Jimin states, sitting at the foot of the bed. “Remind me again,
Taehyung, who was all over Jungkook last night? It sure wasn’t me!”

“We were just dancing,” Taehyung huffs, weakly. He pulls the duvet up to his chin, and leans
against his headboard.

“Fine, you were just dancing,” Jimin says with a sigh, like he’s conceding. In the next
moment, his eyes twinkle with mischief, as he continues, “You were totally almost making
out later though!”

“It wasn’t like—,” Taehyung starts saying, but flashes of Jungkook’s pierced lips, trailing
over his cheeks, his jawline, so close to his own, bombard his vision. It was actually exactly
like Jimin had described. They had almost been kissing.

Groaning, Taehyung pulls the duvet over his head.

“It’s okay, Taehyung,” Jimin tries to console. “So you have a crush on your husband. What’s
the big deal!”

“Do you think Jungkook knows?” Taehyung asks mousily, still from under his duvet. “That I
like him?”

“He may have an idea,” Jimin says, smiling.

Taehyung wants to think that the fact Jimin says this with a distinct lack of sympathy or pity
means he may be right. But then, he remembers the way Jungkook had turned away when he
had tried to kiss him. The definitive No he had muttered as if to nip anything Taeyung was
willing to offer right in the bud. To shut that door before Taehyung could even get his hand
over the handle. It stings.

“It doesn’t matter,” Taehyung says, despondently. It’s not like anything could ever come out
of it anyway.

He somehow manages to pull himself out of bed. Downstairs, a steaming bowl of hangover
soup awaits him on the butcher block island. Taehyung pops the Tylenol Jimin had set on his
night stand into his mouth, and sits down on the counter chair.

The soup smells divine. Eager to get a taste as well as overcome his nausea, Taehyung digs
in.

The first slurp off the spoon has just settled on his tongue when Jimin says, “Jungkook made
it for you.”

Taehyung almost chokes on the mouthful of soup, spits some of it out trying to make sure it
doesn’t go down the wrong pipe.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, concerned. He passes a paper towel to Taehyung, and places a
glass of water next to his bowl.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung starts, embarrassed. “I just, I thought you made the hangover soup.”
“One—how do you not know by now that I can’t cook to save my life?” Jimin asks, tilting
his head. Taehyung thinks about it, and realizes he has indeed never seen Jimin cook. He’s
always either snacking on pre-packaged food, or eating whatever Jungkook and Yoongi
cook.

“Oh right,” Taehyung says, dumbly.

“And two,” Jimin says, holding up his index and middle fingers. “I can’t believe you were
trying to convince me you don’t have a fat crush on Jungkook. You are gone for him, aren’t
you?”

“I’m not gone for him,” Taehyung grumbles, resuming to slurp the soup. He’s generally not a
fan of how spicy this soup usually is, but this one isn’t too spicy. The cabbage leaves and
sprouts add a crunchy texture that is really helping with his nausea.

“How are you okay?” Taehyung asks, mixing some rice with the soup.

“It’s shocking, I know,” Jimin says, leaning against the counter, close to the stove. “I drank
more than usual but I don’t really get hangovers.”

Taehyung envies how fresh and bright Jimin looks. It doesn’t even look like he had a late
night at all.

“Good for you,” Taehyung says, bitterly.

“The secret is to keep hydrated,” Jimin says, sagely. “Always drink more water than alcohol.”

“Alright, Eomma. I’ll remember that for next time,” Taehyung says, mocking.

“What happened last night anyway?” Jimin asks, more seriously now. “One moment you two
were all up in each other’s faces, and the next you were chugging shots like a fiend, going on
crazy on the dance floor, and Jungkook was stoically watching you from the bar.”

“Jungkook was watching me?” Taehyung asks, meekly. The new information presents an
unexpected gleam of hope.

“Yes,” Jimin says, impatiently. “Now tell me what happened.”

Taehyung hesitates. He is not in the habit of sharing personal things with people. Growing up
without close friends through high school, then being completely isolated from any
semblance of a meaningful human connection for the past four years at Columbia, he is
naturally wary of trusting people. Confiding in someone he has only known for a few weeks
should be out of the question.

Yet, somehow, looking at Jimin—standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, his face
a perfect picture of anticipation with neatly plucked brows raised and eyes open and bright—
Taeyung finds himself wanting to lay it all out.

Carefully, he begins, “I was drunk.”

“You don’t say,” Jimin snickers.

Taehyung glares, but continues without otherwise countering, “I just get really um,
uninhibited when I drink. You know we were dancing, then Jungkook and Yoongi showed up
a little later, and we were all dancing—”

“You and Jungkook were really feeling each other,” Jimin interjects, with a sleazy waggle of
brows.

“Will you just let me talk?” Taehyung hisses, setting his spoon down and leaning back.

“Yes, yes please. Sorry, no more comments,” Jimin says, making a show of zipping up his
lips with his thumb and forefinger.

Taehyung sighs, deep and tired. “We were dancing, and like I said, I get really bold when I
drink, so things got a little heated. I thought maybe he was into it, just as much as I was. So I
pulled him aside, and basically asked him to kiss me, and he said no. That’s it. End of story.”

“Ouch,” Jimin says, frowning.

“Yeah,” Taehyung returns, wretchedly. He picks his spoon back up, starts shoveling the
hangover soup into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say more.

Jimin watches on for a moment, then he walks over to the adjacent side of the butcher block
island and rests his palms against the edge. “It was probably because you were drunk.”

“What?” Taehyung looks up in question.

“You were both drunk and sloppy, and sure, that doesn’t really matter when you’re grinding
on the dancefloor, but maybe Jungkook just did not want to initiate anything with you like
that.”

Jimin’s words trigger a spark of memory from last night.

No, Jungkook had said. But he’d immediately followed that by, Not like this .

Taehyung’s head still aches, the Tylenol not yet having kicked in, but his chest suddenly feels
lighter. A knot that had been tangling onto itself wrings loose.

“You really think so?” He asks, letting a hint of hope come through in his tone.

“I’m always right about these things,” Jimin says haughtily, examining his nails. “So, what
are you going to do?”

That’s where Taehyung deflates. Jungkook’s rejection may have been circumstantial, but
Taehyung had still made a complete and utter fool of himself in front of him. Any attraction
Jungkook felt could have been extinguished by his drunken antics.

“Ugh,” Taehyung grumbles. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t really want to kiss a guy who threw up
on my expensive carpet. He probably doesn’t either.”
“Taehyung,” Jimin starts. “Jungkook doesn’t care about things like that. He’s practically a
billionaire but would you know that by just looking at him?”

Jimin has a point. Though Jungkook cleans up really nicely and clearly has a closet full of
expensive suits for special occasions, he mostly dresses in baggy black shirts, black cargo
pants, and his trusty black combat boots. Anyone who doesn’t already know he’s an all-
important heir would not necessarily be able to glean that from just a look at him.

And it isn’t just the fact that Jungkook doesn’t wear expensive designer clothes in his daily
life. It’s also the way he carries himself. Jungkook may come off as arrogant with how cold
and brusque he is, but Taehyung has found that when you peel that superficial layer off, he
actually can be a thoughtful person.

But then, Taehyung remembers the way Jungkook had commented on his outfit for Aunty
Mina’s brunch, and his dread feels completely justified.

“I don’t know, Jimin,” Taehyung says, dejected. “I just feel awful about it.”

“I promise it’s okay,” Jimin says, gently. “Jungkook isn’t shallow like that.”

Taehyung nods for lack of a good response. That Jimin thinks Jungkook is not shallow
matters little when he has demonstrated to be so in Taehyung’s own experience. It isn’t only
about the carpet in any case. Nobody likes a sloppy drunk. And it goes beyond that as well.
Taehyung took Jungkook’s rejection in the worst possible way by trying to drink his misery
away, and proceeding to make a show of dancing with strangers to make sure Jungkook knew
he wasn’t the least bit affected. In his alcohol-addled mind, that had made perfect sense, but
Taehyung realizes now how it only went to show how much he was affected.

There is a ping of a new message’s arrival to his phone at the same time the front door creaks
open. Taehyung’s head spins to watch Jungkook walk in through the threshold and step onto
the now notably carpet-less hardwood of the foyer.

Their eyes meet. Taehyung’s wide open in surprise and shame, and Jungkook’s round ones
mired in confusion like he too had not expected to see Taehyung there.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, from across the hallway. He slips his backpack off his shoulders and
sets it by the stairs. “How are you feeling?”

Hearing Jungkook’s arrival, Bam races down the stairs, enthusiastically wagging his tail, to
greet him.

“Hey, buddy,” Jungkook says fondly, patting Bam’s head a few times before turning his
attention back to the kitchen.

Taehyung watches him walk towards him, Bam on tow, with hands inside the pockets of his
pants like he’s starkly aware of them.

Taehyung wants to make a run for it, but he’s also wary of causing a bigger scene. So, he
shrugs as Jungkook walks up to the kitchen and stands by the butcher block island. A safe
distance between them.

“Um, better,” Taehyung says, plastering a smile on his face. “Thanks, um, thank you for the
hangover soup.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, brushing the back of his head with a hand. “Hangovers are the worst,
so just… just wanted to make it suck a little less.”

Taehyung nods, lips pursed in an awkward, clipped smile. He turns to Jimin, smiling
knowingly. Jimin raises his eyebrows at him, as if to prompt some action out of him.
Taehyung isn’t certain what he is supposed to do, so he just abruptly stands up.

“Um, I guess, I’ll go, I’ll go lie down for a bit,” Taehyung says, picking up his bowls. There’s
still some soup he had been working on. He laments the loss of it, but escaping Jungkook is
his biggest priority. Setting the dishes down in the sink, he passes by Jungkook without
sparing him another glance.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook says, after Taehyung has stepped into the hallway.

Taehyung spins around in his nervousness. “Hmm?”

“Can we–can we talk?” Jungkook asks, softly.

Taehyung’s eyes dart to Jimin, still in the kitchen, behind Jungkook. He frantically nods his
head as Taehyung contemplates shooting Jungkook down.

“Oh,” Taehyung starts, fidgeting. “Uh, sure. I guess.”

As Jungkook starts walking towards him, Taehyung sees Jimin throw two thumbs up at him.
A stamp of approval and encouragement.

Bam barks, an excited yelp like he’s just been told it’s play time, and starts following
Jungkook. Before he gets far, Jimin calls out, “You want some treats , Bammie?”

At the stressed word, Bam takes a sharp turn to seek Jimin instead, and pads back to the
kitchen, with a spring in his paws.

Taehyung’s steps feel heavy as they start walking up the stairs. The sound of Jungkook’s
combat boots thudding against the hardwood floor is disconcerting. Taehyung counts them
down like he’s approaching an unspeakable fate.

Taehyung steps into his room, stands to the side to let Jungkook in. Jungkook steps in, closes
the door behind him.

It occurs to Taehyung at that moment that though Jungkook had deposited his nearly passed
out body onto his bed last night, he has actually never been inside Taehyung’s room
otherwise. He looks tall and out of place now. In black head to toe, his entire person stands
out as an anomaly against the warm terracotta walls.
They stand awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. Taehyung has his hands balled into fists, his
thumbs straining to cover the rest of his fingers. He sees Jungkook look out the windows,
sees an opening.

“Beautiful day we got, huh?” Taehyung says, looking out the windows to the streets lit by the
early afternoon sun. He can’t believe he’s resorting to talking about the weather of all things
to avoid getting into what they really need to talk about. He truly has spent too much time in
America.

Jungkook’s head whips to Taehyung, as if not expecting him to have spoken first. “It’s really
hot outside actually,” He says, shrugging.

“Oh.” Of course Taehyung’s attempt at small talk is a resounding failure, shot down before it
could even take off the ground.

“About last night,” Jungkook begins, shifting his gaze between Taehyung and the hardwood
floor. Taehyung takes a deep breath, forces himself to hold Jungkook’s shaky gaze.

“Yes,” He says glumly, like a prisoner awaiting his sentence.

“I just wanted to—”

“I am so, so sorry,” Taehyung suddenly bursts out, terrified of what Jungkook was going to
say. “I was extremely out of line, and I really should not have done any of the many awful
things I did last night.”

Jungkook stares at him, blankly. “Oh,” He says, his lips rounding to mimic the sound.

“I just, I become a different person when I drink,” Taehyung says in a rush.

“A different person?” Jungkook asks, skeptically.

“Yeah,” Taehyung continues, nodding vigorously. “It’s just like I–I get possessed.”

“Possessed?”

“Okay, not possessed,” Taehyung backtracks, sighing. “But I do, I do behave in ways I would
not have while sober. Like, like I’m so sorry I just threw myself at you. And then, I threw up
on you. God, that was just—”

Taehyung physically cringes, remembering the way he had so boldly pulled Jungkook away
from the crowd.

“—just, overall appalling behavior.”

“So,” Jungkook starts, voice tinged in doubt. “What you’re saying is you regret what
happened last night?”

“Yes!” Taehyung yelps, sheepishly. “I’m just really so sorry.”

It’s difficult to admit it, because under different circumstances, maybe the outcome of the
liquid courage he was operating under would have been different. But it’s true all the same.

Jungkook is silent for a few moments. Then, he gives Taehyung a smile, a dim one that
somehow feels like a consolation prize, and says, “It’s alright. I’m glad you’re feeling better
today.”

“Get some rest then,” Jungkook says, turning to leave. He pauses halfway, his body not
facing Taehyung or the door, like he’s going to say more but he doesn’t. He turns around,
opens the door, and leaves.

Taehyung can’t shake the feeling that he has somehow made things worse.

He tries to find solace in the fact that there really wasn’t anything else he could have said or
done. An apology was really his only option. He’s not sure then why Jungkook had looked
almost disappointed upon receiving it.

Sighing, he pulls his phone out to check the time. He just got out of bed, but there’s no rule
saying you can’t get back in again, especially when you’re wallowing. He’s surprised to find
a text from an unlikely person.

Bogum Park

Hey, I’ll be in Midtown tomorrow. Wanna grab coffee?

Taehyung can’t think of a reason not to.

Kim Taehyung

Sure. Where do you want to meet?

❝「☁」❞

Summer rainy days in New York City are both a blessing and a curse. The satisfying smell of
recently rain drenched trees and the romantic sight of the city cloaked in dewiness come at
the general inconvenience of elevated humidity making your clothes stick to your skin
quicker and dirtier, wetter streets and subway stations. Still, unless it’s the rush hour, people
avoid stepping out when it rains. There is a golden period in between when the streets are just
a little bit quieter, disturbed only by the errant footsteps of people running for cover and cars
driving through puddles and splashing the sidewalks.
Taehyung props his umbrella open as he steps up the underground subway station exit. It had
been downpouring when he left, but the rain has mostly come to a halt in just a few minutes.
He examines his shoes as he walks the wet streets, and makes a mental note to invest in a pair
of rain boots now that he can afford them. He stopped spending money frivolously when he
realized how quickly the expenses were adding up, but rain boots in New York City qualify
as an almost necessity. He only got through all these years without a pair, because well, he
had no choice with how expensive they can be.

The coffee shop is only a few blocks from his place. He really only took the subway to avoid
the ungodly spray of rain. On a clear day, it would have been a nice walk.

Taehyung distantly thinks about how odd it is that he now thinks of Jungkook’s house as his
‘place’. What does one’s place mean? He still doesn’t fully feel comfortable in that house, so
how has he subconsciously come to think of it as his home?

Though it’s not packed, the coffee shop is definitely enjoying an uptick of patrons from the
rain outside. Taehyung looks around and does not see Bogum. He zeroes in on an empty table
close to the napkins and straws station, and decides to wait there.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Bogum pops in through the glass door not even a couple of
minutes after Taehyung situates himself.

“Hey!” Bogum greets, smiling broadly. He’s dressed in a nice green button up and a pair of
smooth, brown corduroy pants. Taehyung can’t help but peek at his own outfit—a
nondescript grey hoodie, and a pair of old slacks. He’d picked them up because they were the
first things he’d found inside his drawers. Out of nowhere, he hears Jungkook’s voice
taunting him.

Is that why you are dressed like that?

The words ring with a meaner edge inside his head, amplified by the humiliation and self-
consciousness it had prompted.

Shaking his head, he smiles at Bogum. “Hi, how’s it going?”

“A little wet,” He says, ruffling his wet hair a bit. “But good, otherwise.”

“Did you want to get something to drink?” Taehyung asks, pointing at the counter.

Taehyung gets an Americano with a triple shot of espresso, his usual. Bogum gets a
watermelon bubble tea, with extra tapioca pearls. Taehyung finds that unexpected, yet still
fitting for Bogum’s bright and warm personality.

“Did you get caught in the rain?” Taehyung asks, taking a careful sip of his Americano.

“Just the tailend of it,” Bogum says, setting his bubble tea on the table. “What about you?”

They chat about innocuous things for a bit. Taehyung finds that Bogum is pretty easy to talk
to. He shares things about himself without coming off as self-centered, and veers away from
asking Taehyung any personal questions. He learns that Bogum just graduated from UCLA,
and moved to the city for a job at Deloitte.

“Did they need you here? Or did you want to move back?” Taehyung asks, curious about his
coast to coast move.

“A little bit of both,” Bogum says, chuckling. “It’s a funny story actually, but bottom line is
they gave me the choice to pick between the LA and New York City offices, and well, here I
am.”

“How is it to be back after so many years?”

“It’s been strange,” Bogum starts, picking up his bubble tea and taking a generous sip. “It
feels like everything has changed and nothing has changed at the same time.”

Taehyung remembers what Soohyun, Namjoon’s fiance, had said about her move back to the
city. Bogum’s experience is not singular. He must know it too.

“But that’s just New York City,” He says, gesturing with his arms wide open. “It’s running in
different directions at all times, yet somehow, never seems to leave its point of origin.”

Taehyung nods. “It must be nice though, to be back home.” Is the place where you grew up
considered your home, Taehyung wonders. Not knowing the answer, he appends, “In a
sense.”

“It is,” Bogum says, somberly. “I wanted to be close to Harabeoji. It took a firm reminder for
me to realize that he won’t always be around.”

It’s overwhelming to think about how many people’s lives the death of Jeon Ilsung may have
impacted. Taehyung’s changed forever in a monumental way, but there must be so many
others who felt the ripples, weak or strong, of the loss.

“Did you know Mr. Jeon?” Taehyung asks, carefully.

“Yes, my Harabeoji was really close to him. I grew up around him.”

“What was he like?”

“Ilsung Harabeoji?”

Taehyung nods, holding his breath. For all the time he has spent with the Jeons and Jungkook
in particular, he knows nothing about the man who shoved him into their lives.

“He was a stern man,” Bogum says, pulling at the edges of the sticker cover of his bubble tea.
“You’d have to be, to be as successful as he was. But he raised Jungkook with a lot of love.”

The dichotomy Bogum describes aligns with what Taehyung knows about Jeon Ilsung
through google, and what he has gathered about him from the way Jungkook so clearly holds
him close to his heart.
“I don’t think the man who founded and ran Jeon Incorporated, and the man who raised
Jungkook were the same.”

At the mention of Jungkook’s name, Taehyung’s ears twitch in even more interest.

“So, did you and Jungkook grow up together?” Taehyung asks, curiously.

Bogum smiles then, a sad, wistful curve of lips that gives just enough away. “Yeah, we did.
Jungkook, Yoongi, and I,” He says, with clear fondness. “They used to call us the three
musketeers.”

Taehyung laughs, endeared at the thought. “You’re not friends anymore?”

Bogum sighs, a deep, heavy sound that hints at regret. “We haven’t been friends for a long
time now.”

Taehyung wants to pry. He wants to pick at what is clearly a sore subject, and get every detail
he can out of it. He feels an inane compulsion to dig into Bogum’s wound, an urge he can
only explain away as a need to know more about Jungkook.

In the end, Bogum takes the onus of making a selfish choice out of Taehyung’s hands.

“How are things with you and Jungkook?” He asks in a more upbeat tone.

Taehyung doesn’t know if Bogum knows the truth about their arrangement. He doesn’t want
to assume either way, so he goes for something safe.

“They’re alright. We’ve both just been so busy.”

“I know that,” Bogum starts, and he deliberates his next words in a way that gives the
impression that he must really mean them. “Jungkook can be a little cold sometimes. He’s a
hard nut to crack, it’s just the way he’s always been. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Taehyung looks at him, eyes wide open in surprise.

“He grew up with an abundance of one kind of love but a lack of another,” Bogum says,
smiling sadly.

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook lost his parents when he was really young. It shaped him as the person he is
today.”

Taehyung cannot imagine his life without his parents. He cannot imagine the pain that a loss
like that would cause.

On the flipside of that, he also cannot imagine being a dick to people because of a personal
tragedy.
Bogum seems to have said his piece. He doesn’t say any more about Jungkook, moves on to
neutral topics like Taehyung’s internship and post-graduate plans.

Taehyung is not certain what Bogum’s intention had been in wanting to see him, or sharing
intimate insights into the kind of person Jungkook is. All he knows is that he feels even more
ambivalent about Jungkook than he had before.

It’s difficult to deny at this point that Jungkook has some kind of hold on him. This has been
the case for far longer than Taehyung is willing to admit. Maybe it is a crush, maybe it is just
a curious fascination. Either way, Taehyung’s eyes always managed to find Jungkook around
campus. Now, he gets to have a closer look at him. Closer than he ever thought possible.

He is not sure he should like what he sees.

Yet, he does.

❝「☁」❞

When Taehyung gets back to the house, he is not expecting Jungkook to be standing by his
door.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, cocking his head. “I heard you come in.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says, uncertain. “Did you need something?”

“I just need a moment,” He says, eyeing Taehyung’s door.

Taehyung takes the hint, opens the door to his room, and Jungkook follows in.

As he had the last time he had been in Taehyung’s room, Jungkook closes the door behind
him.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asks, still confused.

“I was thinking about what you said the other morning,” Jungkook voices, stepping further
into the room awkwardly. “And, I just wanted to make sure that we are on the same page.”

“Of course,” Taehyung says, nervously.

“I know you said that you regretted what happened,” Jungkook ventures, studying Taehyung
carefully.
Taehyung isn’t sure what Jungkook is trying to get at. Taehyung apologized, Jungkook
accepted his apology. What else is there to talk about?

“And that’s okay,” Jungkook continues, raising his hands to relay the sentiment. “But—”

He pauses, and there is a shift in his voice at this point from tentative to hardened. His eyes
take on a steely glint as well, as if he has to gather some courage to continue.

“But, for what it’s worth, I did want to.”

“What?” Taehyung isn’t certain he is following.

“And the thing is,” Jungkook starts again, brushing a hand through his hair. “I realized that I
never apologized about what happened at the club.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Taehyung says, shaking his head. Well, there are things
that Taehyung would appreciate an apology for, but none of them transpired at the club.

“No, actually, I think I do,” Jungkook insists, looking at him intently. “I was thinking about
what happened, and I wondered if maybe, my intentions were misconstrued, if maybe, you
thought I did not want—”

He wets his lips, looks away, looks back at Taehyung again. “—That I did not want it.”

Taehyung’s heart is racing fast. He feels a little lightheaded, thrumming with barely
suppressed anticipation. “What, what do you mean, Jungkook?”

“I mean that,” Jungkook says, hesitantly. “I mean that I did want to kiss you like you asked.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” Taehyung is holding his breath, afraid that even a single slip up will
disturb the delicate state of nerves they’re both in.

“Because,” Jungkook says, eyes hardening. “I didn’t want to do it when both of us were
drunk. I wanted to do it like this.”

Jungkook steps across the room, grabs Taehyung’s face, and kisses him square on the lips.

Taehyung almost stumbles back with the force of it, bumps into the desk behind him. He ends
up leaning against it, hands clamped over the edges.

For all the conviction Jungkook charged forward with, he only places a chaste kiss on
Taehyung’s lips. He presses against Taehyung’s lips for a few seconds, then slowly pulls back
to look into his eyes. He is not looking to start anything new, he is simply answering
Taehyung’s call.

Kiss me, Taehyung had asked.

Jungkook delivers one kiss for one word.

Okay.
Taehyung’s breath is caught in his throat. Jungkook’s lips are parted, his gaze flitting between
Taehyung’s shock stricken eyes and his kiss smoothed lips. He still has Taehyung’s face
cupped in his hands. He’s watching for his reaction, any indication that what just happened is
alright.

Following Jungkook’s suit, Taehyung responds with his body instead of his words, his lips
rather than his voice. Pushing himself up straight, he catches Jungkook’s lips with his own.
His hands land on Jungkook’s hips, holding him there so he won’t retreat again.

After so much agony, Jungkook’s lips feel divine. They glide against his own like a sweet
dream, filling his heart with whimsy and inexplicable joy. Jungkook pushes him against the
desk again, and this time, Taehyung clamors to sit on the surface, if only to part his legs and
pull Jungkook closer. When he takes Taehyung’s lower lips in between his teeth and lightly
bites, all Taehyung can do is let out a gasp of dizzying pleasure. When Jungkook licks the
plump curve of the same lips he’d bitten to soothe the sting, Taehyung is an absolute goner.

Taehyung has kissed people before, even made out with some. But it has always been with
the aid of alcohol, in dim hallways or bustling dance floors where he never needed to expose
any real part of himself. It’s a habit borne out of years of being singled out as the odd one. In
Busan, he was the poor kid, the one who wore the same scuffed tennis shoes through most of
secondary school. At Columbia, he was the foreigner, one of many to be sure, but an outsider
all the same. Taehyung feels like he has been walking around with an albatross around his
neck for most of his life. And when you have a glaring flaw such as that, you get into the
habit of making yourself smaller, of disappearing into the background.

Jungkook kisses him like he’s magnificent, like he’s not at all a wallflower but the one
commanding all of his attention. Like if he doesn’t hold him tight and kiss him hard,
Taehyung will slip away. He tilts Taehyung’s head back, thumbs lingering over his cheeks in
a light, arresting touch. Their lips somehow fit even better in this angle. Jungkook looms over
him, presses and sucks and bites Taehyung’s lips like he will not get another chance. The
confident brush of his lips, wet and eager, empowers the albatross around his neck to break
free and soar high. Taehyung’s feet are not on the ground, and he himself feels like he’s
floating among the clouds, tasting a high he’s never known before.

They’re not drunk this time, but Taehyung feels like he’s under a spell just the same. Yet he
feels sober, crystal clear mental clarity reveling in the sensation of the smallest of Jungkook’s
motions. His hands travel from holding Taehyung’s face to pulling him closer by his waist.
Taehyung gasps at the new intimate contact, one of his hands traveling up Jungkook’s torso
to grab a hold of the black denim jacket he’s wearing. Like this, they are pressed against each
other pretty much all over. The inexplicable feelings of pleasure unfurling in Taehyung’s
chest suddenly start trickling down to the pit of his stomach. He gasps again, stunned.

Jungkook takes this opportunity to move his lips to the side of his mouth, to the jut of his
cheekbone. He presses fevered pecks all over his face, before dipping lower to lick the edge
of his jawline.

It goes straight to Taehyung’s cock, a sudden jolt like a clap of thunder.

 “I’ve wanted this for so long,” Jungkook says, kissing the line of his jaw. “Thought about it
since I first saw you.”

Taehyung’s dizzy mind startles at the words. Jungkook has been thinking of this? Of kissing
him? Since he first saw Taehyung? In Freshman year?

“You never said anything, always ignored me,” Taehyung says, panting. He hopes to confirm
the length of time Jungkook is alluding to.

“I had to. You made me feel crazy,” Jungkook says, licking a long stripe up the column of
Taehyung’s neck. “Every time I saw you around campus, it made me angry.”

Taehyung is positively reeling with this revelation. All of those times he thought Jungkook
looked mean or arrogant, all those instances their eyes met and he felt stone, cold ice in his
gaze, it was because he was burning with desire for him. For Taehyung.

“It’s alright,” He says, pulling Jungkook’s face up. “You can kiss me anytime you like now.”

Jungkook stares at him, breaths coming in fast and heavy. His big, round eyes are positively
sparkling, his lips red and swollen. Taehyung closes the distance between them to reiterate
what he had said. He pecks Jungkook’s lips—coy and shy like they hadn’t just been licking
each other—and lays in wait for Jungkook to make the next move. Jungkook stays still for a
moment as if in a daze. Then, he leans forward, softer and gentler than before, and brushes
their noses together.

When their lips meet again, it is in a soft blur, like two paint colors bleeding into each other.
It’s slower, more deliberate.

Taehyung doesn't feel any less ambivalent about Jungkook, but he also thinks he could easily
get addicted to this.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

thank you to PredawnLight for being the best beta. <3

pls consider leaving your thoughts if you enjoyed this chapter! i had a difficult time
cranking it out, so i'm a little nervous to share it. your feedback would mean the world to
me.
twitter
 Cloudy With a Chance of Shared Revelations
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

Sparks.

There are sparks everywhere.

On the patch of skin on his back that Jungkook’s thumb has unearthed, the crook of his jaw
that rests in the palm of Jungkook’s hand, the curve of his bottom lips under siege of
Jungkook’s teeth.

Taehyung feels it like sunlight crawling over his skin for the first time after a series of
gloomy, rainy days—warm and illuminating.

“I’m,” Taehyung gets out monosyllabically like a drowning man coming up for air. “I’m—,”

“You’re what?” Jungkook asks, refusing to let up. He kisses with the same intensity he has
always faced Taehyung, only now he knows that Jungkook was never angry or irritated at
him. Jungkook's frustration stemmed from his desire, the subject of which was Taehyung
himself.

It’s surreal.

It feels like a dream.

Yet, it feels heavily real with the way he can feel the weight and gait of his heart inside his
chest so acutely. And it’s shocking still, because it’s beating so hard for someone Taehyung
never expected.

“I—,” Taehyung tries again, reluctantly opening his eyes. “Why did you never say
anything?”

“I was nervous,” Jungkook says, blinking repeatedly like he’s disoriented. “Honestly, I never
planned on pursuing anything. I don’t–, I don’t want a relationship.”

Taehyung is so taken aback that he only gapes.

“I can stop if that’s a problem,” Jungkook says, hesitantly. The haze in his eyes starts to clear
up, and Taehyung suddenly wants to hold on to it desperately. Don’t come to your senses, stay
in this daydream with me, he wants to say.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung asks, tentatively.

Jungkook pulls back, puts some distance between them. One of his hands runs through his
tousled hair while the other hovers over his mouth, like he’s bodily aware of his lips.

“I am not interested in dating, and if the will hadn’t made it so we had to get married, I had
no intention of ever getting married.”

That is an extremely dramatic if not completely ludicrous claim to make at twenty-two. Even
to Taehyung, who has never been in a relationship and does not have any immediate plans to
seek one, it sounds ridiculous. The commencement speech hammed it up a bit with
graduation being the beginning of the rest of their lives, but they were not exactly wrong.
Denouncing something, regardless of what it is this early into the game, seems premature at
best and completely idiotic at worst.

“I, um, I,” Taehyung says, faltering. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jungkook adds, reassuringly.

“I do though,” Taehyung insists. “This affects what just happened between us.”

“Okay," Jungkook says, taking another step back and creating more room for Taehyung to
speak his mind. "Tell me what you think.”

“Why?” It's the first and only question in Taehyung's mind.

“I am not," Jungkook sighs, looking out the window. "In a place—emotionally or mentally—
to be the kind of person who would make anyone happy.”

“So it’s not so much about what you want but what you think a potential partner might want
from you?”

Taehyung can hardly believe he’s having this conversation with Jungkook right now.

“Well, no,” Jungkook says, almost with a challenge like he’s annoyed that the reason he gave
is somehow not enough for Taehyung. “I have many reasons. That’s just the one that’s easiest
to talk about.”

Taehyung takes that as his cue to stop asking questions. Jungkook does not owe him an
explanation, in any case. And a part of Taehyung is extremely grateful that Jungkook did not
leave any room for doubt or ambivalence, that he came right out and said he does not want a
relationship out of whatever this thing between them will bloom into. Another part of him, a
much more significant part, is so disappointed that it’s almost a wonder that his entire face
does not crumble and give him away.
“I’m not looking for a relationship either,” Taehyung says, less truthfully than he himself
believed just ten minutes ago. “So you’re off the hook.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook asks, almost disbelievingly. Slowly, he closes the gap between them again
and leans forward and rests his palms against the desk by Taehyung’s hips, effectively caging
him. “I still want this though. Still want you.”

Taehyung feels a flicker of heat in his lower belly. He puts his hands over Jungkook’s
shoulders, wraps it around the back of his neck. “Want you too.”

This time, Taehyung takes the plunge. There is no hesitation, no build up to the kiss. They are
no longer two stones striking against each other hankering to start a fire. The fire is already
there, and it’s red, hot, billowing. Taehyung thinks he could get lost in this, in the softness of
Jungkook’s lips and the sharp shock of his teeth and the silken magic of his tongue. But since
Jungkook offered a truth, a piece of vulnerability that he did not exactly owe Taehyung but
shared anyway, Taehyung feels the strong compulsion to do the same.

“Wait,” Taehyung says, pulling back as Jungkook’s tongue traces the outline of his lower lip.
“Wait a minute, Jungkook.”

To Jungkook’s credit, he stops immediately. “What’s wrong?” He asks, breathing heavily.

Taehyung can’t look him in the eyes when he says it. He just can’t. He zeroes in on the silver
studded buttons that dot the collar of Jungkook's leather jacket, and begins, “There’s
something you should know. About me.”

Jungkook gives him space again, takes a step back so he’s no longer hovering over Taehyung.
“What is it?”

“I have,” Taehyung tries, and his voice is suddenly so small he can hardly hear himself.
“I’veneverdonethisbefore.”

“What?”

Taehyung sighs, a huff of nerves and frustration. He is trying so damn hard to keep the shame
at bay, but he can still feel it licking at the heels of his feet.

This is not a fault, he thinks.

This is not a shortcoming, he tells himself.

This is not even anything noteworthy, except he wants to put it out there so it’s there. Out of
his reach, and stripped of its power over him.

Taehyung looks Jungkook straight in the eye when he speaks, “I’ve never had sex… or done
much beyond kissing.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says. Then, more levelly, he adds, “Okay.” There is no trace of ridicule or
judgment in his tone.
“Okay?” Taehyung asks, suddenly shy.

“Of course,” Jungkook says, more firmly. “I don’t care what you have or have not done. Not
in the least.”

Taehyung looks into his eyes intent on finding astonishment, but he only finds stark, firm
sincerity. For a second, he’s grasped by shame again, but not for his inexperience. He had
judged Jungkook for intrinsically not believing in relationships, and here Jungkook is—
completely lacking in any judgment of Taehyung’s character based on this one little detail
about him.

“You’re not like I imagined,” Taehyung says, comforted by this surprise.

“You’re a little different from what I imagined too,” Jungkook says, cheeks blushing a pretty
pink.

Encouraged by the lack of reprimand or ridicule, Taehyung blurts out, “I want to though.”

“You want to, what?”

“I want to have sex,” Taehyung says, with burning cheeks. “With you. If that’s alright.”

Jungkook smiles, an easy, beautiful thing that makes Taehyung’s heart clench. “It’s more than
alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we go slow though?”

“Anything you want.” Jungkook nods, pulling him into a kiss again.

They are interrupted by a soft whimpering right outside the door. At first, Taehyung ignores
it. It’s clearly Bam, sniveling at the doorstep. The picture of a very pitiful Bam with his snout
touching the door flashes across his eyes. He wants to stop kissing Jungkook to ask if Bam is
okay, if he needs anything, but kissing Jungkook is such a delicious high, it’s difficult to
break apart.

“Hold on,” Jungkook says, in the end. “Let me just.”

He turns around, opens the door to let Bam in, and is back in front of Taehyung while his lips
are still puckered up from the last kiss. Bam waddles in, tails swinging in full form and leaps
onto Taehyung’s bed. He donuts himself as he gets comfortable, snout resting on the duvet,
and looks at the two of them with his his big, brown eyes as if to say please carry on.

It’s when Jungkook tries to resume where they left off like nothing changed that Taehyung
startles.

“Whoa, whoa,” Taehyung exclaims, holding Jungkook off with a palm on his chest.
“What?” Jungkook asks, confused.

“He’s right there !” Taehyung says, discreetly eyeing Bam like he’s talking about a person.

“Bam?” Jungkook puzzles.

“We can’t do this with him here,” Taehyung insists, shaking his head.

“Wha-”

“He can see us!” Taehyung bursts out in frustration. How can Jungkook not see a problem in
that?

Jungkook just gapes at him for a second. Then, with exasperation, he says, “Taehyung, he’s a
dog !”

Taehyung gasps, affronted on Bam’s behalf. “How can you say that?”

Jungkook looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “Because he is a dog?”

“But-but,” Taehyung splutters.

Jungkook is right. Bam is indeed a dog. He should not be scandalized by some kissing, but
Bam is still someone . The idea of getting hot and heavy while someone sits and watches
from the sideline is very disconcerting to Taehyung.

“I just don’t feel comfortable,” Taehyung says, pulling the sleeves of his shirt over his palms
into fists. “Is that–is that okay?”

There are still traces of some exasperation on Jungkook’s face, but he doesn’t dismiss
Taehyung’s concern. “Yes, that’s completely fine. I’m–I’m sorry that I made you
uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Taehyung says, and when Jungkooks turns to look at Bam,
he hastens to add, “And neither did Bam.”

Jungkook looks at Bam thoughtfully, while Taehyung laments the sad fact that there will be
no more kissing today. When Jungkook picks up the throw hanging limply over Taehyung’s
dresser and covers Bam with it, Taehyung’s first thought is that he’s helping Bam get cozy.
He wraps it around Bam’s head and entire body carefully, bundles him up properly, and
leaves only his snout out. It makes a cute picture like the white throw is a dusting of snow
covering an entire house, and Bam’s snout is the front door that is the only area that has had
snow cleared up for easy passage.

But the way Jungkook turns to Taehyung triumphantly, and says, “There! ” , clues him into
what he really intends.

“Now he can’t see us,” Jungkook says, grinning. “Is that good?”

Taehyung is so endeared that he can't help but chortle.

It isn’t only the fact that Jungkook did not make light of Taehyung’s hesitance and actually
listened to him. It also isn’t just the idea that covering Bam’s eyes is the simple solution
Jungkook thought of. It isn’t even the smile on Jungkook’s beautiful face that makes his nose
scrunch, and his eyes twinkle, on its own. It’s all of it together, at once, bullseye—hitting
Taehyung’s meandering heart, pinning it down for Jungkook to steal.

❝「☁」❞

After that, it’s like a dam has burst open.

Anytime they are on their own, they are on each other like bees on spring flowers.

It’s really still a shock for Taehyung that Jungkook is attracted to him, that he wants to do
these exciting, sexy things with him. Living as an afterthought, Taehyung is used to being
dismissed or forgotten. He has never been the center of anyone’s attention before, never had
the spotlight shine on him. But with Jungkook, it’s different.

With Jungkook, it has varied; from urgent, hurried kisses after being pinned against the back
of his bedroom door as soon as Yoongi and Jimin are out of the apartment to making out
slowly, lazily, on his bed while their hands explore each other in the same tandem. Honestly,
it’s a little bit like being drugged. Whenever Jungkook is around, all he can think of is his lips
on his own, his hands all over his body. He had asked for slow, and Jungkook has taken it to
heart, not letting his hands travel anywhere below the belt. Taehyung appreciates the
thoughtfulness, and is grateful because he knows he is absolutely not ready for more. But a
part of him also sometimes just looks at Jungkook—with his messy, bed hair, and the tattoos
stretched across his taut biceps, and the lip ring that just feels obscene now that he's had the
privilege of playing with it with his tongue—and Taehyung just wants to get naked with him,
then and there.

For all the patience and restraint Jungkook demonstrates, Taehyung can still feel his hard
cock on his thigh as they’re making out in his bed.

They both gasp at the contact.

“Sorry,” Jungkook scrambles to apologize, and extricate himself from the tangle of legs
they’ve worked themselves into, but Taehyung is quick to protest.

“No,” He says, grabbing Jungkook’s hands and putting them back where they were on his
hips. “It’s–it’s okay.”
Jungkook bites his lower lip, stares at Taehyung like he’s hypnotized him in some manner.
“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers, pulling Jungkook closer so he’s lying flush on top of him. “Like
being close to you like this.”

Taehyung shyly wraps his hands around Jungkook’s neck, pulls him lower for a chaste peck
while he experimentally rolls his hips against Jungkook’s crotch.

The effect is instantaneous once again. They groan together, one low voice over the other,
gliding against each other just like their clothed cocks. Taehyung loves kissing, he loves how
low key it can be, as simple as two people just vibing together. The vast pool of carnal
pleasure is deep, dark, far too intimidating for Taehyung to have ever even considered
plunging in. But kissing is like picking someone you like, and simultaneously dipping your
toes in to enjoy a small thrill. It’s low risk, and low to moderate reward depending on how
good of a kisser your partner is.

Jungkook is a phenomenal kisser. Taehyung is convinced that kissing is an art form, and
Jungkook has it mastered to a terrifying degree of finesse. Of all the people he has kissed
before, of which there are not many, Taehyung has never found it as exciting or exhilarating
as he finds being kissed by Jungkook. His lips, pierced and plump, are soft, but they can
become voracious when things heat up. His bunny teeth that always looked so innocuous
now feel like sin with how they bite and drag across Taehyung’s lips. His tongue is a different
matter entirely. The way it slithers in and out of his mouth skillfully, the way it slides against
his own so smoothly, nothing makes Taehyung’s head spin faster than Jungkook’s tongue.
Nothing makes him harder either.

So they’ve been making out for god knows how long at this point, but when they start
grinding against each other, the pleasure quadruples. It’s like shocks of electricity, pulsing
from his cock to his lower stomach to the rest of his body. Taehyung feels tipsy, inebriated by
the tactile magnetism of Jungkook’s body over his. The push and pull is thrilling, the smooth
slide like bursts of unmitigated pleasure in his groin. Jungkook licks the line of his neck,
presses sloppy kisses against his collar bones before he comes back up to seek Taehyung’s
lips hungrily.

“Is this what you want?” Jungkook asks, planting a rough kiss on Taehyung’s lips. “You want
to touch me without touching me?”

Taehyung whimpers as he continues grinding against Jungkook’s cock. It’s a relief they’re
both wearing sweatpants, the glide would have been so much rougher with jeans on.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Jungkook mumbles, rolling his hips against Taehyung’s. “So
fucking hot, and gorgeous.”

Taehyung isn’t sure anymore that he isn’t having an out of body experience. He feels light as
a feather, like he could be floating in space, yet there’s a heaviness to his body that grounds
him, that makes him feel shackled to Jungkook’s electric touch.
Jungkook slowly pulls the hem of Taehyung’s t-shirt up, sweeping the exposed skin of his
ribs in the process. When he has rolled the t-shirt all the way up to his armpits, he lifts
himself slightly to rest on his elbow. Taehyung whines in disappointment. He is so distraught
at the loss of the friction between his legs that he’s completely blindsided when Jungkook
lowers himself to Taehyung’s chest and licks a nipple before taking it into his mouth.

The jolt that strikes Taehyung’s body is a shock. He had been not far from the tipping point,
tittering around the edges waiting for that final buildup, but as soon as Jungkook takes his
nipple into his mouth and sucks, Taehyung is done . Cum spurts into his briefs unexpectedly,
and his hips lift off the bed and chase something, anything. Jungkook catches on fast. He puts
one of his hands in between Taehyung’s legs to give him the friction he needs to fully milk
his orgasm out. Taehyung grinds against Jungkook’s palm a few times, chasing that spark,
that burst of light that has completely taken his breath away.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook curses, licking his lips.

Suddenly, Taehyung wants to die. “Oh my god,” He exclaims, completely mortified.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jungkook says, crawling back over Taehyung and
scrambling to kiss his lips.

“Ah, Jungkook,” Taehyung gasps from oversensitivity, when Jungkook instinctively drops his
hips to drag it against his.

“Fuck, sorry,” Jungkook apologizes, lifting his hips back up.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay,” Taehyung says, shyly. A part of him wants to pull the duvet over
his face and refuse to face Jungkook, but a bigger part of him is eager to return the favor.
“What–how can I make you come?”

“Shit,” Jungkook returns, hovering over Taehyung with his arms stretched straight. “You
don’t have to do anything. I can take care of myself.”

“But I want to,” Taehyung says, emphatically. “I want to make you feel as good as you made
me feel.”

Jungkook gasps, when Taehyung cups his face and pulls him in for a sloppy, wet kiss. “Okay,
okay. Give me your hand.”

Taehyung’s bravado slips a bit at that. He did not lie, he does want to make Jungkook feel
good, but he is not sure if he’s ready to hold, or even see, his cock in all its naked glory.

Jungkook must sense his hesitation, because he smiles a bit. “You don’t have to do anything
you don’t want to. You can always, always , change your mind.”

Taehyung nods weakly. He bites his lips to tamp down his nervousness, and raises a hand to
palm Jungkook’s length over his sweatpants. “Is this—is this okay?”

“Fuuuck,” Jungkook whispers, closing his eyes. “That feels so good.”

Emboldened by the positive feedback, Taehyung continues dragging his palm up and down
Jungkook’s clothed erection. Jungkook writhes against him, and it’s nice to know he’s not
completely out of his depth. But it’s strange to be doing this with Jungkook right now.
Taehyung has never touched a dick other than his own. He hasn’t even given much thought to
his sexuality. Though it has always been clear to him that he is gay, he hasn’t done a whole
lot with that knowledge. He was already the poor kid and the socially inept kid. There really
was no need for him to also be the gay kid. So unconsciously perhaps, he just never let it
come to the surface. It’s not like he had much time to sit around and moon over boys anyway.

Jungkook ruts against his hand, with these little grunting noises that make Taehyung’s breath
catch in his throat. He is thick, Taehyung can tell, even through the several layers of fabric.
Thick and long. Taehyung has a passing thought about how it would feel to suck Jungkook's
cock, and he hasn’t even wiped the cum from his last orgasm but his spent cock still twitches.

Jungkook comes like that, grinding against Taehyung’s hand, letting out profanities in small
bursts. Fuck fuck fuck , and shit, shit, shit . He’s breathing heavily in the aftermath, taking
huge gulps of air like he just finished running a sprint. Taehyung retrieves his hand
awkwardly, and places it by his side.

“Um,” Taehyung tries, swallowing the uneasiness that blooms in his throat. “Was that–was
that okay?”

“Okay?” Jungkook asks, still panting. “Taehyung, that was incredible.”

Taehyung was already hot, but now he feels like his face is on fire. “That’s–that’s good.”

“It’s better than good,” Jungkook says, inching closer to place a soft kiss on Taehyung’s lips.
“I promise.”

Taehyung lets Jungkook kiss him slowly. With the urgency of a need for completion out of
the way, his touches are more subdued, restrained even.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook asks, pulling back a little to lay on his side.

“Hot,” Taehyung says, without thinking. “I mean, temperature-wise. I’m a little warm.”

Gently, Jungkook pushes back the sweat matted hair on Taehyung’s forehead. “You did
great.”

For a moment, Taehyung feels like a juvenile kid being told he did a great job on a test. Then,
he looks at the sincerity in Jungkook’s eyes, and knows that he means it to comfort him, to let
him know what happened was okay. Even so, he can’t help but feel an unpalatable mix of
shame and embarrassment brew in his chest. He does not regret what happened, but he is a
little taken aback by how fast things escalated, by how he had asked for slow and then
proceeded to dry hump Jungkook like an overeager teenager with no restraint.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, more seriously. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Taehyung is quick to respond, shaking his head to drive home the point. “I just–I
feel a little tired.”

The look of concern on Jungkook’s face is heartwarming. For all the shame Taehyung feels
for essentially having no impulse control, he is also grateful that this happened with
Jungkook. Through the uncertainty, the confusion, and the absurdity of their marriage,
Taehyung has come to trust Jungkook, at least in some measure. With his complete lack of
meaningful interpersonal relationships of any sort, that is not a thing he takes lightly.

“You sure?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. For even if it is not completely true for this moment, he knows that
he will be fine once the dust settles.

❝「☁」❞

Taehyung is overwhelmed by the number of dishes on the table. He sits in front of one of
three place mats; one at the head of the table, and two on each side of the first. The same
elaborate arrangement of kimchi jjigae and a wide set of banchan sit pretty on all three place
mats. Taehyung hasn’t seen this much food in one place since the last chuseok spread at his
maternal uncle’s house the year before he left for college.

Beomseok Kwon sits at the head of the table. With a kind face and a jovial smile, he looks
like the perfect picture of a grandfather. Taehyung himself lost his own when he was very
young, so he doesn’t have a blueprint to go off of. But if his gentle cadence of speaking and
the way he treats his waiting staff is anything to go by, he can safely assume that Beomseok
Kwon is indeed the good man he appears to be.

The old man picks up his spoon to begin the meal. Taehyung and Jungkook follow suit,
though Taehyung has no clue where he even wants to start. The spread includes a main dish
of kimchi jjigae and white rice, and an array of banchan fit for a king. He is most excited to
try the gat kimchi, which has proven to be an obscure form of kimchi in the States, and hence,
elusive from the usual banchan sets that Korean restaurants serve. Taehyung has fond
memories of his grandmother preparing fresh gat kimchi from newly harvested mustard
greens from their fields in the countryside. Over the years, he has found himself missing gat
kimchi, in particular, when he missed home, and more specifically, when he missed his
grandmother.

Taehyung picks up his chopsticks and makes a beeline for the gat kimchi . The greens are
crisp to bite, and fresh tasting, even though they lack that little something that made his
grandmother’s rendition so special. His grandmother also always made it a point to make a
separate portion that was only mildly spiced for him, so this is spicier than he can generally
eat. But he feels sated solely on the basis that he’s gotten a taste of home in a way that he had
not anticipated in the least.

“Ah, you like gat kimchi , huh?” Beomseok asks, speaking Korean with a satoori accent.

Taehyung almost lets his satoori slip as well, but he would really rather not have the
conversation turn to his background, so he decides to stick to the standard Seoul accent at the
last minute. “Yes, my grandmother used to make this a lot when I was younger.”

“People who grow up eating the authentic spices of the homeland are just built differently,”
Beomseok says, shoveling a spoonful of jjigae into his mouth. “Kids here are too hung up on
mac and cheese and pizza to know how to appreciate the true taste of the motherland.”

Taehyung quickly looks at Jungkook to gauge his reaction for that was certainly a dig at him.
He is smiling, mixing the whole of his rice with the jjigae and stirring haphazardly. “It’s good
to diversify one’s palette, Harabeoij. Mac and cheese and pizza have their place, as do kimchi
jjigae and gat kimchi .”

“Whatever you say, young man,” Beomseok laughs, shaking his head. Then, looking over to
Taehyung, he adds, “Your green card application was sent in to the USCIS last week. We
should have a response in the next few months.”

Taehyung has been so caught up in his new life that he’d more or less forgotten about his
green card application. He knows it’s something to be grateful for, but the downside of
having his entire life uprooted from the dregs and replanted in a fancy new greenhouse is that
he often does not have the time or presence of mind to appreciate every little blessing.

“Oh,” Taehyung starts, setting his chopsticks down, and picking up his spoon. “That’s great
news. Thank you so much for the update.”

“Of course,” Beomseok booms, chuckling. “It’s the first thing we need to get in order to
secure both of your futures. The team has been working hard to make it all happen.”

Taehyung momentarily wonders if he should send a thank you card to Pilsung. But then, he
remembers that Pilsung is merely doing his job. It just so happens that his current job benefits
Taehyung.

A silence descends upon the room as Taehyung struggles between profusely expressing his
gratitude and leaving it at that because none of this is personal anyway. Then, he suddenly
remembers something he’d been meaning to ask since their arrival at the Kwon residence.

“Will Bogum not be joining us for the evening?” Taehyung asks, curiously. From his
peripheral view, he can immediately see Jungkook tense on the side.

“No, my boy,” Beomseok replies, without hesitating. “Bogum had a work event he needed to
attend. Otherwise, he’d be right here with us.”
Taehyung catches Beomseok stealing a wry glance at Jungkook, and he wonders if Bogum is
actually missing for Jungkook’s sake only. Not for the first time, he wonders what happened
between them to cause a rift of this magnitude. Friends drift apart all the time, but it takes a
lot to cause a full fledged fallout.

“Ah,” Taehyung says, nodding.

Jungkook plucks some candied potatoes off a banchan plate and stuffs them into his mouth.
The look of unease on his face is enough for Taehyung to try and veer the conversation in
another direction.

“How did you know Mr. Jeon?” Taehyung asks, abruptly. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Beomseok looks at Taehyung with glassy eyes like they’ve been shrouded by clouds of
nostalgia. “We went way back, Ilsung and I. We did.”

“They served in the military together at 18,” Jungkook offers, smiling at Taehyung. He is
relieved to see the tension that had gathered in Jungkook’s shoulders at Bogum’s mention has
dissipated.

“That we did,” Beomseok affirms, chuckling. He sets his spoon down, takes his glasses off,
and sets them on the table. “We lost touch after being discharged but as fate would have it,
we happened to be working at the same factory in Chinatown. We met again here when we
were your age. And well, the rest is history.”

"That's really serendipitous," Taehyung gushes, feeling an easy warmth bloom in his chest.

“Friendship,” Beomseok continues, sighing wistfully. “It’s the secret to a happy life.”

Taehyung wonders about that. For all his years of living, he has no meaningful friendship to
show for it. Strangely enough, Jimin is probably the closest friend he has ever had even
though he has only known him for a couple of months. And it’s no thanks to himself, but
entirely due to Jimin’s innate affability and unconditional kindness.

“Good friends are difficult to come by,” Taehyung shares, lugubriously.

“The key is to be a good friend,” Beomseok says, decisively. “You have to be prepared to put
someone else before your own devices. Because, what is friendship if not, letting someone
guide you for a little bit, and doing the same in return.”

The blatant snickering and name calling behind his back, and more recently the thoughtless
microaggressions and a distinct sense of being ‘othered’ have all prevented him from seeking
meaningful connections with his peers. All his life, he has been made the odd one out, who at
first, was not good enough for the rest of his classmates, and then, too good for them as he
excelled in his academics and made his way to an Ivy League school on a full ride. He
detested the people who made him feel less than, like not having enough was somehow his
family’s fault, and not at all a symptom of poverty. A heinous combination of prejudice and
the lack of understanding about how socioeconomic forces work to shackle the already poor
to deeper depths of poverty. In the end, he was too good for them. He didn’t lack basic human
decency or the knowledge that poverty is nothing to be ashamed of, that it could have just as
easily been them in his place—the poor kid who couldn’t afford new tennis shoes or the class
field trips.

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, who is looking back at him with a hint of concern.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, softly.

It strikes him then that he has been looking at Jungkook through the lenses of his own
prejudice. Jungkook is not perfect, but he is also nowhere near the arrogant prick he
villainized him as. Being rich has not made him unkind. It has not made him pompous or
contemptuous. It has not stopped him from wanting Taehyung.

“Yeah,” Taehyung nods, giving him a small reassuring smile. “I just randomly remembered
something.”

“The mind works in mysterious ways,” Beomseok quips, laughing heartily. “The most trivial
thing can trigger a potent memory. If only we knew how to preserve that forever.”

Knowing Ilsung Jeon suffered from Alzheimer’s, this must be a difficult topic to talk about.
The small smile on Jungkook’s face is quickly wiped out. He picks up the napkin from his
lap, and pushes his chair back with a loud creak.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” Jungkook says, walking out of the dining room.

Taehyung is unsure what to do or say. Beomseok takes it out of his hand by speaking up first.

“No one has been more affected by Ilsung’s death than Jungkook,” He says, matter of factly.

Taehyung is surprised that Beomseok is divulging such a personal bit of information about
him, but his curiosity about the late man and his relationship with his grandson make him
hold onto the thread and pull some more.

“The two were very close, weren’t they?”

“Ilsung raised that boy on his own. He’s the only parent Jungkook has ever known.”

“I heard that his parents passed away a long time ago.”

“That they did,” Beomseok nods, with a tinge of sadness. “Ilsung had many regrets about
them. I think that’s why he poured so much love into raising Jungkook.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook’s parents married against Ilsung’s wishes. Eleanor came from an average
background, and Ilsung was convinced that she was marrying Myungdae for his money.”

“Oh.”
“It was an awful time,” Beomseok continues, taking a deep breath. “Myungdae denounced
his father, left the family fortune, and decided to marry Eleanor anyway. It wasn’t until
Jungkook was born that they reconciled. Jungkook, that little toddler with chubby cheeks,
took all the shattered pieces of this family, and put it back together.”

Taehyung is speechless for a bit. He is only just processing all the information when
Jungkook trawls back into the dining room and sits on his chair.

“The hobakjeon is really good, Harabeoji. You’ll have to let Ajhumma know we enjoyed the
meal a lot,” Jungkook says, sounding much lighter.

“Come back for lunch next time, and tell her yourself,” Beomseok grumbles, still smiling.

Later, after they’ve said goodbyes and stepped out of the house to walk to their station,
Taehyung can’t shake off the sense of uneasiness. He now knows something really personal
about Jungkook, that he himself may have never shared with Taehyung. It sits heavy on his
chest as knowledge maybe he was never meant to know, so Taehyung can only think to do
one thing to make things even.

“I’ve never had any friends,” He blurts out as soon as they are on the next block.

“What?” Jungkook asks, looking at him in confusion.

“At school, I was bullied for wearing worn shoes and missing class field trips because my
family couldn’t afford the trip costs.”

“Taehyung?”

“At Columbia, I never felt like I belonged. My accent and all the things that made me a
foreigner… I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I always felt out of place. So, I never
made any friends.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Jungkook says, looking sincere, genuine.

“Well,” Taehyung says, nervously laughing. “Now you do.”

“We can be friends,” Jungkook says, softly.

“What?”

Chuckling, Jungkook adds, “There’s no rule that says you can’t be friends if you’re
married.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chimes, reaching out to hold Taehyung’s hand. The gesture is unfamiliar
but so simple that it feels like something they do all the time.

“It’s not weird?” Taehyung asks, recalling the way they had jerked each other off earlier. “I
mean, with all the other stuff that’s been going on…”
 “It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Jungkook says easily, like it’s obvious.

It’s easy for Jungkook to believe that because he has no intention of making anything serious
out of their encounters. There should be nothing between them but physical attraction, so of
course, that should leave room for friendship to grow. Try as he might though, Taehyung is
not certain his attraction to Jungkook is only physical. In fact, in light of their physical
relations, Taehyung is pretty sure he wants Jungkook more than just physically. Taehyung
wants all of him, not just his body.

But if he can’t have that, if Jungkook, for whatever reason, is not able to give him what he
wants, friendship is not a half bad consolation prize. Taehyung is used to not getting what he
wants. He is used to having his heart set on something, and—due to scarcity of resources,
primarily—being forced to settle for a cheap imitation. This will be just another instance of
that lifelong trend.

“Okay,” Taehyung says, not really believing it.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

sorry for the late update, i got covid and was out of commission for a couple of weeks.
i'm feeling all better now though, so i'll be replying to your comments very soon!

thank you to my lovely beta, Predawn_Light for being the absolute best.

i would love to hear what you think of this chapter, so pls consider leaving your
thoughts!

also, stream layover!!! <3

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 Cloudy With a Chance of An Unwelcome Guest
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

❝「☁」❞

The wind whistles like it’s singing. Coiling against the ends of Taehyung’s hair, kissing the
width of his forehead, whispering in his ears like a persistent tune, it is a welcome change
from the overbearing heat of the city.

Taehyung doesn’t know how to drive. He has never needed to, having only ever lived in
places with decent to excellent public transportation. As far as he knows, Jungkook has never
had to learn how to drive either. For the same reasons, as well as the fact that he could have a
sharply dressed chauffeur drive him anywhere.

But as Taehyung learns on this Thursday afternoon, Jungkook does know how to drive. He
drives his Maserati with a confidence that honestly makes Taehyung want to get him alone in
a room. He’s at that nascent stage of reciprocated attraction where everything the other
person does is dizzyingly sexy and impossible to resist.

“You’re staring,” Jungkook says, smirking. The wind blows through his hair like it’s
determined to give him the most spectacular blowout.

“I’m observing,” Taehyung says, turning to look ahead.

“You’re admiring,” Jungkook tries to correct.

Taehyung can’t help but crack a smile. One of the many things he’s uncovered since they
started hooking up is that the man has a playful cockiness to him that not many get to
witness. He had always been self-assured, refusing to take shit from anyone. Taehyung used
to find him arrogant, walking around campus like he was too good for everyone. Now,
Jungkook is more open, softer around the edges like they’ve been eroded with familiarity. Or
maybe that’s just how people flirt. Taehyung wouldn’t know. He’s only just experiencing a—
and he hesitates to call it this because he doesn’t want to overstate what they have—romance
for the first time in his life.

“I’m evaluating ,” Taehyung says emphatically, pulling his sunglasses down from his head
and over his eyes.
“Uh oh, am I getting graded?” Jungkook jokes. His smiling cheeks are punctuated by a slight
dimple that makes Taehyung want to melt right there in the passenger seat.

“Shut up,” Taehyung says, blushing. “How much longer until we get there?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Jungkook says, stealing a peak at his phone. “We should be there
soon.”

It’s the Labor Day weekend. But more importantly, it’s Jungkook’s birthday weekend.

They’re headed to a beach house in the Hamptons for the occasion. The invitation had come
from Jungkook, but the plan was orchestrated by Seokjin. As Taehyung learned, Seokjin had
made a tradition of opening the door of his vacation home as the celebration spot for
Jungkook’s birthdays, and this year was no different.

As a big iron wrought gate appears on the horizon, Taehyung knows without Jungkook’s
telling that they have arrived. Rows and rows of rolling hills stand behind the line of the gate
and its surrounding fence so it’s really more like an estate than just a house. The gate is
painted black, curved iron within the perimeter twisting and turning to create a whimsical
arrangement that seems more inviting than deterrent.

Jungkook pulls up to the edge where there appears to be an intercom and a number pad. He
pulls his sunglasses up to his forehead, and punches in a series of numbers. The intercom
blares out a bell ring, and the gate starts swinging open to let them in.

Taehyung can’t help but let his jaw drop as they drive past the gate and into the estate. As
they pull up into the first hill, a house becomes visible in the distance right by the shore of a
private beach. The road to the house winds past elaborately manicured hedges and
magnificent fountains, and by Taehyung’s admittedly unaided estimation, is at least a mile
long.

As Jungkook pulls up into the massive driveway, and Taehyung steps out of the car, he
notices that the house is modern with large, sleek floor to ceiling glass windows lining the
periphery of the entire ground floor. He is merely taking the exterior in when Jungkook slinks
around the car to grab his hand and pulls him inside.

Though only a few physical barriers are left between them at this point, the hand holding is
new. Despite himself, Taehyung can’t help but blush.

Jungkook drags him gently past the humongous living room, and makes a beeline for the
back porch.

The back of the house faces the sea. The waves at this time of day are strong, almost playful
with how hard they splash against the sand to kiss the shore, then retreat as if struck by an
uncharacteristic bashfulness. They tug and pull rhythmically, letting wary bystanders watch
from a safe distance.

Taehyung notices Seokjin first. He stands on an expansive deck, a cup of something in hand,
with his neck slightly upturned as if studying the gray sky. Everyone had been hoping for
good weather, but there’s a storm coming. Not obvious unless you’re really looking.

Yoongi stands about a foot away from Seokjin, turned away from the sea, with his head
turned down to look at the phone in his hand.

“You’re here,” Seokjin says, a pleased smile on his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Most of us do not get up at the ass crack of dawn like you, old man,” Jungkook jokes,
slapping his shoulders.

“I’m grateful you deigned to drive down whenever it was that you managed to get up,”
Seokjin says, grinning. “Happy birthday, little guy.”

“That’s just categorically incorrect in every way,” Jungkook says, tartly.

“You’re always going to be little to me, Jungkook,” Seokjin says, just as Jungkook rolls his
eyes like they’re going to see the back of the inside of his head. “I’m glad you could make it,
Taehyung,” Seokjin adds, smiling at him.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Taehyung says, returning his smile meekly. He isn’t sure that
Seokjin, or anyone for that matter, knows about the new development of his relationship with
Jungkook. It’s such a new thing between them, delicate and made more complicated by the
fact that they’re married. While people may expect a newly married couple to be drunk on
love, that’s not the case for them at all. They may be tipsy on lust, after giving into their
mutual attraction, but love is out of the question.

“Where’s everyone else?” Jungkook asks, mutely nodding at Yoongi, who returns the gesture
in kind.

“Jimin decided it was now or never, with the weather forecast looking bleak for the rest of the
weekend,” Yoongi says, pointing to the beach. “And you know Namjoon needs very little
prompting to be bought into his shenanigans.”

“Damn,” Jungkook swears, but there’s an air of admiration in his voice. “The water’s gotta be
freezing!”

Taehyung hadn’t noticed them at first, but he sees them now in the distance. Jimin and
Namjoon splash into the waves, shrieking their lungs out because surely, the water is icy
cold. Taehyung feels a full body shiver pass through himself just at the sight.

“They’re lunatics,” Yoongi says, gruffly.

“Yeah, but they are our lunatics,” Soohyun says, stepping out onto the deck from the house.

“Did you find the sunscreen?” Seokjin asks, with raised brows.

“Yeah, thanks,” She says, absentmindedly rubbing the skin of her forearm. “Doesn’t look like
it was necessary though.”

“Nonsense,” Seokjin says. “You still need sunscreen on cloudy days.”

“Hey Soohyun,” Jungkook greets, giving her a small hug.

“Glad you guys made it in before the storm,” Soohyun says, smiling. “Hey Taehyung,” She
gives him a radiant smile, and once again, Taehyung is mired in uncertainty, left wondering if
any of them know the true nature of his relationship with Jungkook.

“Why don’t you guys go take your stuff in, freshen up, and come down?” Seokjin suggests,
sagely. Using his thumb to point back at the beach, he adds, “These two will probably be a
while, so take your time.”

Taehyung is relieved for the reprieve. He feels welcomed enough, but he has never been good
at socializing in groups, and he doesn’t expect it’s magically going to become less stressful.

❝「☁」❞

The concept of a vacation is fairly foreign to Taehyung.

Outside of the summers he spent at his grandparents’ farm in the countryside during his
earlier school years, he hasn’t had much time off. He started working part-time as soon as he
could, and that turned to full-time work during the holidays to offset his own personal
expenses to put less of a financial strain on his parents. Merely skipping work would be a
luxurious vacation in itself, so skipping town to lounge around the beach is a few steps above
anything he had ever dared to wish for.

Jungkook leads the way to a room on the second floor and opens the door, nodding at
Taehyung to step in. Taehyung walks in wordlessly, his eyes busy studying the art deco
inspired decor—the dark velvet drapes with gold lined edges, chairs and coffee table marked
by a distinct opulence that spelled 1920s chic, and a giant bed with the most ornate
headboard Taehyung had ever seen pushed up against a deep, navy blue accent wall.

“It’s beautiful,” Taehyung says, and he isn’t only talking about the room. It’s the whole
house, the entire property. All of it. Taehyung has never stepped inside a more elegant home.
“Seokjin must have put a lot of thought and care into curating the design and decor.”

“Aunty Misun taught him well,” Jungkook says, and the mere mention of her name is like a
cold splash of water against his face. He hasn’t given much thought to her offer yet,
especially with almost all of his free time being occupied with Jungkook. But it’s definitely
been on his mind, like the ghost of a particularly unsettling thought.
“Hey, you okay?” Jungkook calls, and Taehyung startles out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” He quickly provides, nodding. “Just a little tired from the drive.” Even as he says it,
he can feel what a ridiculous statement it is. He didn’t do diddly squat on the drive over.
There really is no reason for him to be out of it, but he can’t exactly tell Jungkook his
nefarious aunt threatened him with a million fucking dollars.

“Oh,” Jungkook says, concerned. “Do you want to rest for a bit? Take a little nap or
something?”

Taehyung is endeared by the thought, but he shakes his head quickly. “It’s nothing really. I
just need some fresh air, I bet.”

“You don’t have to stay here, by the way,” Jungkook gets out in a rush. “There are several
free rooms on the floor, but I think Seokjin hyung just assumed we’d use one room,” He
finishes, scratching the back of his head.

“I’ll stay,” Taehyung says, simply.

Jungkook smiles, a big one with his bunny teeth showing. Taehyung’s heart does a little
somersault when he spots the slight dimples on his cheeks.

“How about we get a bite to eat,” He says, inching closer and putting his hand on Taehyung’s
waist. “Then go walk along the shore. I know it’s chilly, but it shouldn't be bad if we layer
up.”

Taehyung nods, smiling.

❝「☁」❞

“Do you feel a little better?” Jungkook asks, walking next to him. They’re padding along the
edge of the beach, not too close to the water but not too far either.

“I do actually,” Taehyung says, meaning it. He kicks a pebble towards the water and takes in
a deep breath to feel the chill.

“That’s a relief,” Jungkook says, smiling. “Seokjin hyung would have a fit if someone got
sick. Trust me, you don’t want to be babied by him.”

Taehyung laughs, but he also feels the warm soup Seokjin had fed them for lunch in his gut.
“It’s nice to be cared for,” Taehyung says, before he can think better of laying his heart out in
the open like that.

Jungkook looks a bit sheepish. “Do you get to talk to your family often?” He asks, stuffing
his hands into his jacket pocket.

“I do,” Taehyung says, smiling regretfully. Then, to minimize the display of hurt and put on
an apathetic front, he adds, “You get used to it.”

Not really. He lives his life with half of his heart left with his family back home.

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“The day I left home for the first time, Freshmen year,” Taehyung shares, wistfully. “It has
been a long time… too long.”

“Why don’t you visit?” Jungkook asks, and his words, though innocent and well meaning,
pinch in the way they’re also ignorant. Taehyung has to remember that money has never been
an issue for Jungkook, so perhaps it never occurs to him that it can be the biggest deterrent
for others.

“I couldn’t afford to,” He says, honestly. Shrugging, he adds, “And even if I could, I don’t
think my parents would want me to. They’d think the money could be better used elsewhere,
living expenses or something like that.”

Jungkook’s brows are furrowed. For a second, his chest puffs up like he’s about to present a
solution, but he deflates in the very next moment. “I’m sorry,” He says, simply.

The fact is that Taehyung technically can afford to fly to South Korea now, and Jungkook
probably knows that. His reflex likely had been to state that. However, he had taken pause
before stating the obvious, and acting like Taehyung had it that simple. It’s not much, but
Taehyung appreciates the thought it took for him to realize that.

“It’s all good,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “It’s really such a shame that the weather is going
to be gross the entire time we’re here.”

A change of subject seems in order. Taehyung doesn’t particularly want to dwell on how long
he’s gone without seeing his family.

“I don’t remember my parents,” Jungkook says, looking out into the distance. “I have
glimpses of memories but nothing concrete. Nothing that I can hang on to.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, instinctively. Even though it’s useless, even though it means
nothing.

“You don’t have to be,” Jungkook says, smiling at him. “Harabeoji was always there for me.”

And now, he’s not there anymore. Suddenly, it all hits Taehyung at once. How devastating it
must have been for Jungkook to lose his grandfather. How lonely he must have felt in the
aftermath, how heartbroken and without hope.
“From all accounts, your grandfather was a very great man,” Taehyung says. As if mere
words could ever have the power to, he tries to assuage the hurt.

“He really was,” Jungkook says, eyes watering and voice a little wobbly.

Taehyung feels the weight of Jungkook’s grief in that moment. As much as he misses his
family, he knows that he will see them one day again. Sooner rather than later. But death
comes with a finality that is irrefutable. It’s a door locked forever. Echoes of a melody that no
longer exists, each one more fainter than the last.

Taehyung reaches for Jungkook’s hand, holds it gently in the cold of his palm like it’ll
magically pass some warmth onto him.

Jungkook stares at their hands. And for a moment, Taehyung finds himself holding his breath.
Physical intimacy is still new between them, and every instance of it has involved heavy
breathing and roaming hands. Something as small but significant as holding hands has not
felt appropriate so far. If Jungkook were to pull his hand free, it would not be entirely
surprising.

But Taehyung had felt the grief—all the love Jungkook will carry in his heart for his
grandfather forever—and he had wanted Jungkook to know. He’s not alone.

Jungkook squeezes his palm, and holds his hand firmly.

They walk some more along the shore, the squawking of the pelicans filling the comfortable
silence between them.

❝「☁」❞

By the time they get back to the house, Jimin and Namjoon have finally made a
reappearance. With wet hair and big smiles, they cringe about how cold the water was.

“Icy cold water is good for your health,” Jimin says, plopping a ripe grape into his mouth.

“Only a demon would say something like that, and you, evidently, are one so it all checks
out,” Namjoon grouches. He sits on the couch with Soohyun, wrapped up in a thick fleece
blanket.

“Babe, I told you it was a bad idea,” Soohyun coos, rubbing Namjoon’s back in pity.
“The devil possessed me to do it, it wasn’t really me!” Namjoon exclaims, his teeth still
chattering.

“Is he the devil or a demon?” Yoongi asks, from where he’s seated on the middle of the
sectional, right in front of the TV. He’s fiddling with an Xbox controller, and looks to be
playing a JRPG game on the TV.

“Yeah, Namjoon,” Jimin quips, saucily. “Make up your mind before you tell lies.”

“For the purposes of this conversation,” Namjoon says, lightly. “Let’s say they’re one and the
same.”

In the kitchen, Seokjin is shaking his head while he washes a bunch of lettuce under the
faucet.

“Hope we didn’t miss all the fun,” Jungkook says, pulling up a counter stool from the kitchen
island and planting himself right in front of Seokjin.

“Nah, only a whole bunch of bickering,” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes.

“Just the usual then,” Jungkook says, knowingly.

“Pretty much,” Seokjin says, laughing. He finishes washing off the produce, and pats his
hands dry on the apron around his waist. “I did want to talk to you about something though,
Jungkook.”

“What’s up?” Jungkook says, at the same time that the front door creaks open, and a familiar
voice sounds.

“Damn, we almost beat it.”

Outside, sheets of rain have just started falling like a furious barrage of a scorned lover’s
woes.

Taehyung turns to see two people he had neither known were invited nor expected to see
here.

Hoseok Jung and Bogum Park stand at the foyer, completely drenched in rain.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Jungkook fumes, whipping his head around to stare Seokjin
down.

Seokjin sighs, an extended exhale like it’s been a long time coming. “You can’t avoid him
forever, Jungkook.”

“You know what?” Jungkook spits out, pushing off from the counter stool. “Fuck off.”

Jungkook storms out of the kitchen, stomps up the stairs to the second floor. Taehyung
suspects he would have made a beeline for the outdoors if it hadn’t been downpouring. As it
is, he’s glad that he’s able to follow Jungkook into their room, and not into a blistering storm.
Taehyung hears Yoongi just as he reaches the second floor. Voice small but scathing.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

Inside the room, there are more shadows than light.

Jungkook sits on the edge of the bed, slumped over with his elbows on his knees. Taehyung
walks up to him, and carefully sits next to him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Jungkook turns to look at him. His brows are furrowed, mouth pulled tight into a scowl.

“Yes,” He says, shaking his head. “I just… I can’t. And hyung knows that, and still, he
invited him.”

Taehyung’s curiosity peaks over his reservation. For once, he asks what he’s been thinking of
each time Bogum comes along, “What happened?”

Jungkook shakes his head again. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to be in the middle of this, yet
here you are.”

Taehyung accepts his gentle refusal to talk about it. He’s never been one to prod at things.

“I don’t mind,” He says, simply.

“ I mind. I just wanted to have a nice time with everyone…,” Jungkook pauses, meaningfully
looking at Taehyung. “With you. Now, it’s ruined.”

He sounds so dejected that it triggers Taehyung’s need to make things right.

“Nothing’s ruined,” Taehyung says, pulling Jungkook’s shoulders to make him fully face
him. He takes Jungkook’s face in his hands. “It isn’t, okay? You don’t have to do anything
you don’t want to do. You don’t have to talk to him, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to
make amends if you don’t want to. It’s alright. Whatever happened, you’re allowed to remain
angry.”

Jungkook looks at him with wide, round eyes. Taehyung wonders if no one’s ever told him
that before. That it’s quite alright to stew in your own anger and bitterness. That if he wants
to let it consume him, he can. Taehyung has been doing it for years. It doesn’t solve anything,
but it gives him a sense of conviction to hold on to when things go awry.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only nods slowly.

“Happy birthday,” Taehyung says, and pulls him into a kiss with intention.

Jungkook takes to the kiss like a man deprived. He pulls Taehyung in his lap, bites his lips,
lets his tongue dance with Taehyung’s.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jungkook says after several moments, pecking his lips gently.
“Yeah, me too.”

❝「☁」❞

They spend the rest of the afternoon napping. They haven’t slept on the same bed yet, so it’s
an awkward jumble at first. Jungkook makes it easier by pulling Taehyung into his arms, and
they fall asleep like that.

Dinner is a muted affair.

The sizzle of the meat is the only sound in the large room. They sit around the vast dining
table that seats everyone but are gathered around two little gas stoves upon which they grill
samgyeopsal, galbi, and other cuts of premium meat. Seokjin sits at one edge of the table,
manning one of the grills, while Yoongi handles the second one several seats down.

Taehyung instinctively knows that it’s highly unusual for this group to eat in silence. The
tension in the air is as thick as the smoke of grilled meat. Yet conversation is sparse.

Hoseok tries to stir conversations here and there, but they don’t stick. Everyone seems wary,
on edge like they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

After dinner, everyone is lounging in the living room, drinks in hands. Taehyung sits on the
loveseat next to Jungkook, not too close to him but not too far either. He wonders what they
look like to the rest of them, if everyone knows that they’re hooking up now. It’s quite an odd
position to be in—husbands only in name, but now with the added complication of a physical
relationship in the mix.

Speaking of odd things, Taehyung is curious about why the family attorney’s associate is
invited to a birthday getaway. It becomes clear after dinner when Taehyung catches sight of
Hoseok hugging Seokjin from the back as he washes dishes in the sink.

There are many peculiar things about the scene. First, surely, Seokjin does not have to wash
the dishes himself. Surely, there is wait staff on call, who can take care of it. But, Taehyung
does a quick recap of the evening, and realizes that he hasn’t seen any wait staff around.
Seokjin more or less took care of everything. From setting up the grills, cooking the meat and
produce, to now cleaning up after the fact. Taehyung wonders about what might prompt
someone of a stature like that, someone who owns a vacation home as grand as this one to do
all the menial housekeeping tasks himself.
The other strange thing about the scene is the fact that with Hoseok cozying up to Seokjin, it
suddenly becomes clear to him that this is essentially a couples retreat. Jungkook and him
aren’t exactly a couple, but they are coupled up at the moment. That leaves Bogum as the
only odd man out in the house. Taehyung is not familiar with the social dynamics of an
exclusively coupled vacation, but he wouldn’t necessarily be interested in being the group’s
ninth wheel.

A crazy, entirely narcissistic thought burrows into Taehyung’s mind at that moment.

Is Bogum perhaps interested in Taehyung ?

Is that why he had been so nice to him from the very beginning? Why he gave Taehyung his
phone number and asked him out to coffee? Why he made it a point to crash this weekend?

Has this all been about getting closer to Taehyung?

No, that can’t be right. Bogum clearly had a fallout with Jungkook and Yoongi. They grew up
together, then they fell apart. This isn’t about him at all.

Taehyung spies Bogum sitting in one corner of the room. He’s chatting with Namjoon, who
looks only slightly uncomfortable.

“So Taehyung,” Soohyun calls, from where she’s sitting with Yoongi and Jimin on the
sectional. “I am not sure I ever heard the story of how you and Jungkook met. Care to share?”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, suddenly sweating. “That’s, that’s–”

“They met in a class,” Jimin helps out, enthusiastically.

“Yes, in-in class.”

“Astronomy!” Jimin adds, perkily. “It was written in the stars!”

“Yeah, that,” Taehyung says, trying to regurgitate the story they had come up with. “It was
Sophomore year.”

“Freshman year, actually,” Jungkook corrects, pointedly.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows but he has no time to consider that is not what they had agreed
on, because Bogum scoffs at the same time.

“What is so funny?” Jungkook challenges, staring at Bogum.

“Nothing,” Bogum says, sighing.

“You know what’s funny?” Yoong suddenly says, his hands crossed in front of his chest.
“The fact that you’re here after years acting like nothing ever happened.”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon says, gently but as a warning.

 “He can’t just saunter back into our lives, back into Jungkook’s life after leaving without a
word.”

“Come on, now, darling,” Jimin tries to placate him. “This is not the time or place.”

“No, I’m done keeping quiet,” Yoongi directs at Jimin, then turns to Bogum, and continues
his tirade. “Friendship never meant much to you, so fine, you dropped me like a hot coal. I’m
honestly over it, and have been for years. But how could you do that to Jungkook? After what
he’s been through? After being together essentially all your life? He was convinced he was
going to marry you someday, for god’s sake. And you couldn’t even do him the courtesy of
saying goodbye.”

And there it is, Taehyung thinks. The other shoe. Dropping with a deafening thud.

“And now you have the audacity to appear in front of him, act like he’s the one in the wrong
for not forgiving you?”

“I don’t think he’s wrong to not forgive me,” Bogum says, staring at the ground.

“Then stop trying to make amends. Stop appearing in front of him. In front of us.”

“Yoongi, that’s enough,” Seokjin admonishes.

“No, he’s right,” Jungkook adds. “Not everything can be salvaged. Some things are better left
to rot.”

With that, he storms out of the room.

Taehyung is frozen in shock.

He does not follow after Jungkook.

❝「☁」❞

Chapter End Notes

thanks to my darling beta for looking through this. <3

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