tranquil

the change in jun’s expression causes something to twist in her heart, coiling painfully between her lungs till she feels like she’s going to burst. oh, oh god, the concern on jun’s face looks so real, like she actually does care, like that worry is genuine and she really doesn’t want anything but the best for jisoo. it’s throwing her off course, head spinning. she doesn’t know if it’s real, if jun is actually her friend, because jun still looks at her with affection when all the evidence says that jun might be working for the people that killed her parents.

“i’m sure.”

she’s never sounded so frail, so close to the point of breaking. jisoo feels like she’s balancing on the point of a needle, like even the slightest brush of wind will send her tumbling down, down, down. she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up.

“i’ll be back soon. i promise.”

she’s broken a lot of promises over the years. and it hurts to do this: it hurts to know that she’s going to hurt jun, that she’s lying to the other, that even if she doesn’t verbalize it, this is the end of things between them. 

the railing is shaking a little (divine retribution from god? would the ground open up and swallow him whole too? he can only hope), and jisoo clings to it, eyes wide, mouth agape with shock. is this real? is this really fucking real?  apparently so, because he hears jitae’s laugh, eerily familiar and tugging at his heart strings. it’s been a while since he’s heard that. sincere or not, for better or worse, jitae is back, living in the apartment below jisoo like he’d never left and jisoo had never ghosted him.

(except he had left, of course, and jisoo had left him on read for two whole months. oh dear.)

he eyes the cigarette in jitae’s hand and lingers on the promise of dinner, mouth curling with consideration. inevitably, they’ll have to talk. about things. granted, jitae isn’t all that good about talking on his feelings either, but he’ll certainly joke about it and jisoo will most certainly throw himself out the window at some point. 

but then again, jitae always buys the nice cigarettes, the one’s jisoo can’t afford, and he’s a good cook, and jisoo is starving. 

pros and cons.

“no!” she says too quickly, too loud, winces at her own faux pas. usually she’d be so eager to spend time with jun - jisoo is starved of affection, and jun gives and gives and gives, gives even when jisoo feels like she’s undeserving of it. was all of that fake? was all of that a ploy to earn her trust? she feels sick to her stomach, like she’d throw up her all her guts, her heart too if she thought about this one second too long. 

jisoo clears her throat, before nodding, doing her best to appear calm. “don’t worry about it jun. i’ll be back soon enough, and it’ll be bad if the delivery comes and one of us isn’t around to open the door.”

she does her best to smile, the way she always does with jun. 

(it is always so easy to smile around jun - like happiness and her go hand in hand. jisoo feels like her face is breaking, like this is the most difficult thing she’s done in a long time.)

ft. @kgxjisoo

whereas it might not look it at that moment, yongguk isn’t a stalker.

or he could be judging by how he isn’t even on any certain mission at that moment ㅡ isn’t supposed to be, at least ㅡ but he still finds himself with an id that doesn’t belong to him between his index and middle finger like it’s the most natural thing in the world, steps away from the library that has its name printed across the top of the offending item. maybe now would be a good time to stop, to just head over to kingsman and hand the identification in but there’s something about finding out himself that’s so appealing.

that, and the fact that his leg still aches like a bitch and it didn’t help that he had yoongi over the other night who won’t stop commenting on his significantly evident limping as though it’s the only source of entertainment. his injury has, upsettingly, decreased his efficiency in the field by at least twenty seven percent and yongguk can’t help the fact that he wants to ask one (1) hong jisoo exactly who they are.

the thought of that drives him inside the library, one hand in pocket, the other playing with the card as he sweeps a glance over the room. 

he’s at the front desk today, lips curled in a perpetual pout as he goes through the list of names he’s going to have to send emails to later today. 

ugh. 

closing the screen, he lets out a heavy sigh. whatever, he’ll do it later. there’s books to be stacked and he’d much rather get on with menial, thoughtless work while he still has the energy for it. 

he tucks his phone into his pocket, looking around the reception area quickly. there’s no one around that looks desperate for help, so it won’t be an issue if he disappears for a bit. there’s someone else in the back, he thinks. maybe. 

his eyes gloss over the main entrance, and-

oh. 

oh. 

he feels like he’s been punched in the gut, all the air leaving his lungs as his gaze lands on a familiar face. 

bang yongguk. 

@kgxjisoo

jitae doesn’t have much to unpack when he returns to south korea. just one backpack filled with clothes and some items that seemed like too much of a waste to throw away. he’d been in kentucky for several months and doesn’t have much else to show for it—physically, at least—besides a tiny bottle of whiskey and a few other keepsakes that made it through customs.

though technically it’s not unpacking if he chucks the backpack onto his couch and leaves it unzipped, but jitae checks it off on his to-do list anyway and moves onto the next task. he’s chopping some vegetables for a stir fry and humming along to a blackpink song when, underneath the chorus, he hears something scratch at his glass door and looks up to spot a familiar cat trying to claw his way in.

it’s time for a break. the meat needs more time to marinate anyway, so jitae grabs his pack and lighter and heads over to greet his unexpected guest. “hey, dubu,” he says and steps out onto the balcony, smiling helplessly as the cat rubs against his legs, and bends over to scratch behind its ears. “i missed you too, buddy.” he gets a few minutes of scratching in until dubu decides he’s had enough and nicks jitae’s fingers with a paw.

and okay, he can take a hint. so jitae straightens back up to nurse his wounded heart and slide a cigarette between his lips, lighting the end with a flickering ember. his first drag passes through an appreciative sigh. jitae glances up to watch the puffs of smoke curl into wisps, attention flickering to the footsteps pattering on the balcony above his.

jisoo puts his hands on his hip, staring around his living room, eyes narrowed and searching for his cat. antonio has not only gotten fat, but when jisoo had wrestled him onto a weight machine, he’d been horrified to find out that his cat was near obese, despite how much it was running away from him. whatever diet plans he had for it were already falling through when he realizes it had been getting out the fire escape to get snacks from one of the many sympathetic old ladies in their building. 

it’s too hot to keep the windows closed anymore, and he’d much rather have a breeze inside during the coming months than sit in a stuffy room but-

“antonio!”

he huffs, grimacing as he’s forced to step out onto the fire escape, looking down for his beloved cat. instead, he sees a ghost.

jisoo lets out a shriek, jumping back and hitting the wall. he might have even peed himself a little.  the very last thing he’d ever expected to see was jitae’s head and torso hanging mid-air beneath his fire escape, grinning up at him like a demon.

jisoo pouts, more for show than anything else, when jun raps her knuckles against his forehead. she indulges him too much, lets him act childish and petulant and takes it all in stride, like it’s one of his great many (very few) charms and she’s helplessly endeared. and she might be, really, and the thought causes an odd flutter in his heart. no one has ever really babied him, not even his own mother when she was alive. she loved him, yes, but jun spoils jisoo still his teeth hurt from the sweetness.

he stares at her finger on his nose till he goes cross-eyed, before batting her hand away. he’s rather sensitive about his nose, even if he won’t admit it. 

jisoo looks down, folding the edge of his sweater between his fingers before he lets it fall loose. he’ll have to go back home at the end of the night, which means he’ll have to change out of her clothes eventually, and slip back into his jeans. it seems already like too much effort, and he hasn’t even gotten to it yet. 

“no, don’t worry about. i’m just gonna go to the bathroom, alright”? 

he hops off the counter, stumbling a little before he rights himself. reaching up, he pinches her cheeks, pushing them together till her mouth curls like a fish. “you pick a movie. but if it’s sad, i’ll cry on you and get snot all over you. so don’t.” jisoo knows he isn’t very threatening next to jun, who’s got a few inches and a whole lot of muscle mass against him, but he narrows his eyes all the same, as if he were watching her for any sneakiness. 

he ducks down the hallway, heading to the bathroom, when he notices that the room across it, jun’s spare bedroom, the one that she says she never uses, is open. the door is ajar just slightly, the lights left on as if someone had left in a hurry. jisoo pauses, looking behind him. jun wasn’t there, she couldn’t see. it wouldn’t hurt to just peek inside a little bit. she knows he’s nosy anyway, she’d hide anything not meant for him.

the door doesn’t creak, thank god, and he tip toes inside. it’s empty, but theres an open bag, the bed made but looking a little rumpled, like someone was sleeping there recently. there’s signs that someone had been living there, practically settled in, and jisoo’s brows furrow.

it’s supposed to be empty.

he gravitates towards the desk, eyes glossing over the files spread out over it. they’re all organized in neat piles, a space left in the middle for what he assumes might be a computer or just a writing space, but something strikes him when he looks down at the pens. 

one bears a golden K, wrapped in a circle, much like the one on his medallion. 

his heart jumps, and he shakes his head, sucking in a deep breath. no, it’s surely a coincidence. he purses his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and he reaches to open one of the files. inside, a stack of papers, CONFIDENTIAL written across the page in capitals, a large golden K at the top, underneath it.

KINGSMAN.

he feels like he’s going to be sick. 

he closes the file, stomach so suddenly boiling he can’t bear to look into it anymore.

kingsman, right here, comfortable in his friend’s home. his friend - housing someone who might be connected to his parents’ murders. he slaps a hand over his mouth, less to hide a scream than to stop himself from throwing up. his legs are shaking, but he can’t stay in here. he’s not sure if - if anyone has plans to kill him, but he can’t be caught here, not in this room. he hurries out into the hallway, takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

he feels sick.

“jun!”  by the time he comes down the hallway, he’s already got a plan: act like you’re in a rush, an emergency. get out of there while you can. 

“forty minutes?!”

jisoo whines, shoulders dropping. he looks like he’s on the verge of a tantrum, pouting and sulking even as he takes the menu, staring down at it, as if glaring hard enough would make the food come faster. delivery rarely ever takes this long and he groans, turning on his heel to watch jun disappear down the hall. with a frown, he sits on top of the counter, swinging his legs as he stares down at the collection of menus. ordering chicken would be faster. 

he really wants curry though.

“okay, okay. what kind did you get last time? i can’t remember.”  jisoo reaches over to get a pen, circling a couple items on the menu that he wants for himself. it’s enough to feed a family, but they’re both hungry and will most likely be hungry in a couple hours, and jisoo has no plans of going home soon. it’s unlikely he’ll spend the night, but lately he’s been lazing around jun’s apartment more and more, enjoying her company when he’s trying to ignore the unignoreable loneliness of his own apartment. 

but alas, there is one very fat antonio to feed, and jisoo loves his cat more than he likes ignoring his issues. 

he sits up, stretching his arms over his head, before reaching out to get the book he’d left on the coffee table. it’s one of many from jun’s collection - jisoo had thought they were a bookworm, but the shelves upon shelves of books jun has is just astounding - does she even have the time to read them all?

jisoo had gotten half way through it before he’d fallen asleep, book lying flat on his nose, and the only explanation is that jun had put it away. there’s a cute little bookmark too, probably courtesy of jun as well, and jisoo can’t help but smile. she’s somewhere behind, and jisoo turns on the couch, perching his chin on the back as he watches her patter about. jun is so tall, lanky almost, but dressed so snazzy on any given day that it almost always works out. if he had jun’s kind of money he’d dress like that too, frankly.

“maybe indian? i’ve been craving, to be honest.”  he sits up a little straighter, attention focused like a cat. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“do you still have the menu of that diner we went to? they had really good curry.”