guys my age | yuta/taeyong

(you look like a million dollar man) so why is my heart broke?

Taeyong wakes early in the morning and lurches unsteadily out of bed. Yuta stirs beside him, and follows as he staggers into the bathroom and hurls up bile into the toilet. Yuta pets his hair, running a hand down his back, and sits by him until his breathing slows.

"How about a shower?' Yuta says, standing.

Taeyong nods wordlessly, too overwhelmed by how fucking awful he feels to reply, let alone feel any anxiety or awkwardness. He rests his forehead against the cool seat of the toilet for a moment before clumsily peeling himself off the floor. He remembers fragments of the night before—stumbling off towards the bathroom, sitting in the stall with his head in his hands, scrolling by Yuta's name in his contacts—but that's about it. Clearly, he called him and Yuta came to pick him up, which is how he ended up back at Yuta's house.

Yuta helps him into the shower. "Can I leave you alone for a bit, or do you need me to stay?"

Taeyong shakes his head groggily. "No, I'll be okay."

"Okay." Yuta steps back. "I'm gonna go heat up some water and put together a little breakfast. Come downstairs when you're ready. You know where to find clean clothes."

Taeyong takes his time showering. He has to pop in and out a couple of times to throw up again, but luckily the toilet is close to the shower, and the floor is tile, so there's no harm done. By the time he's done showering, he's feeling a little better—still nauseous, but the pulse is more manageable now.

He pulls one of Yuta's old t-shirts over his head and finds a pair of sweatpants, and then wanders downstairs, towards the enticing smell of eggs and bacon.

Yuta has a plate of thick-sliced bacon and scrambled eggs waiting for him on the table next to a big mug of coffee. He clicks off the stove as Taeyong shuffles across the floor to the table, completing a plate for himself. He stays at the counter, though, leaning over awkwardly to take a bite.

"Well," Yuta says, once Taeyong's gotten a little food in his body. "I suppose we should talk about it. Let's make a deal. I'll actually listen to you this time, and you won't shut down on me the instant I say something you don't like. Okay?"

Taeyong's lips curl into a half-smile. "Deal," he replies, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Okay." Yuta sets down his fork. "Here's my side of it. I feel like I've inadvertently taken over your life. I've had my youth and my fun. I know that. And now I feel like I'm stealing your youth to relive mine. And that's something I don't know I'll be able to sit with."

Taeyong nods slowly, though sadness swells in his chest. "You're not stealing anything from me, though," he says, keeping his tone gentle. "I have fun when I'm with you. And sure, maybe I 'should' be going out and getting drunk with my friends over the weekend, or staying up too late playing games or whatever, but..." He trails off, thinking. "I do enough of that when I'm at school, you know. I'm choosing this, Yuta, because it's different and I like it. I like being around you."

"I guess it just comes from a place of worry that I—like, took advantage of you, or coerced you into it." Yuta tilts his head.

"I'm telling you, you didn't. You didn't force me or trick me or whatever else you can come up with," Taeyong replies. "I chose to be here. Do you know how many times I could've said no, and I didn't? I thought about it, and I didn't. Because I like you a lot. Okay?"

"How do I know for sure that's true, though?" Yuta frets. "If I tricked you, then how would you know?"

"If you tricked me, then you're supposed to know," Taeyong points out. "Yuta, you know it's true because I'm telling you. Don't take my agency away just because I'm younger than you."