twenty-three suns | kang taehyun

TWENTY-TWO DAYS LEFT

You don't remember what time you got home, but you do know that it was in the early hours of the morning, and you were almost caught under the shower of the sprinklers that your mother timed to go off every morning before the sun rose. You'd slipped through your bedroom window, shoes in hand just as you heard the choking noises of the little spigots beginning to spout water, and closed your window behind you just as you heard the noises of your parents shifting around in the room down the hall.

You also don't remember the last time you'd had such a good fuck. Taehyun was everything you'd been craving all summer, and you cursed at whatever higher being there was that prevented him from coming sooner and ending your dry spell that had been going on ever since you came back home. Sore yet satisfied, you crawled into bed with an alarm set to go off in just a few hours when you promised to take Taehyun to the best brunch place in town—more like the only decent brunch place in town, but the point still stood.

When you awoke to your blaring alarm, the noisy beeps etching their sounds into your eardrums, you blinked blearily at the late morning light that was strewn across your wrinkled sheets, an effect of your failure to close your curtains early in the morning when you got home. You felt sweaty and not very well-rested, but you'd made a promise, and a text from the one you'd made that promise to made you jump out of bed, excited for some odd reason even though you were just going to the brunch place you'd been frequenting since high school.

Hopping around your bedroom after your shower, holding your towel up with one hand as you tried to find something decent to wear, made you feel like a teenager straight out of a bad, cheesy rom-com, and you felt embarrassed even though no one was around to see you trip over your own foot and nearly face-plant into a pile of dirty laundry. You got ready with one hand as you held your phone in the other, trying to reply to a bunch of texts from Beomgyu that you'd ignored all night and all morning. You groaned as your phone started buzzing with a video call request from him. "I'm kind of busy," you said stoutly, peering into your mirror as you tried to yank a pair of too-small shorts off.

"With what? You never have shit going on," Beomgyu said, making you shoot a glare at your phone. "Are you coming over again today? Kai bought me a fuck-ton of ice cream because he still feels bad for breaking my car."

"I'm going to brunch with someone," you said, finally settling on a decent outfit that wasn't from your high school days nor too casual. You sighed happily, smoothing your hair back with one hand, feeling much more refreshed than you had just an hour ago, and especially compared to how you felt after climbing through your window after the best sex of your life.

"What? Who? Don't tell me you're going with Ryujin—god that bitch is annoying."

"I like Ryujin," you snapped, "don't talk shit. But no, I'm going with some guy that just moved here. It's a long story."

"Am I going to have to come save you if he tries something funny?" Beomgyu set his phone down on his kitchen counter, and you heard him open his freezer, presumably to get some of the ice cream he had previously mentioned. He popped back into frame with a spoon and a pint of brownie batter flavored ice cream.

"No, I trust him," you said, "I have to go now."

"Tell me what happens!" he yelled, before you ended the call and stuffed your phone into your pocket, already dreading having to explain the entire thing to Beomgyu, who was sure to make fun of you for sneaking through your window like a disobedient teenager.

The brunch place wasn't crowded, but then again, it never was. You got out of your car, fanning your face with your hand, shocked and disturbed by the sheer heat that was radiating off of the asphalt. "(Y/N)!" Taehyun's voice called, and it took you less than a second to match the voice to the person. Taehyun was leaning against the outside of the building, clad in a casual outfit that fit his body so well it should be illegal. His dark jeans were loose and baggy, yet he made them seem chic, and he had an oversized blazer on top of his t-shirt, upscaling the entire look. A few pieces of well-chosen jewelry topped it off, making you want to rip everything off of him right then and there—though you were obviously able to hold back.

"You look... good," you said, looking him up and down, and he chuckled at your reaction.

"So do you," he marveled, and he opened the door for you kindly, making your face flush as you walked past him, into the restaurant that was luckily a much lower temperature.

The restaurant was more than familiar; you'd had a booth with your name on it for years and years now. But as you slid into the seat and felt underneath the sticky table for where you'd carved your name way back when, you realized with a bittersweet smile that this was probably one of the last times you'd come here before you left. You didn't move your fingers away from your name after that realization, tracing the letters over and over while continuously glancing over at Taehyun, watching him look over the menu, something you didn't need to do since you had it all practically memorized. "What're you getting?" you asked, pursing your pretty lips.

"Not sure yet," he mused, "what's good?"

"The waffles are pretty good," you said without looking down at the greasy laminated selection, "especially if you order them with fruit preserves. They're made by the owners in the autumn and used year-round."

Taehyun hummed in delight, drumming his deliciously long fingers across the tabletop, unconsciously following the rhythm of the old air conditioning unit in the back of the building—it was so loud that you could hear it over the chatter of all the customers. "I think... I'll get an Americano, too?"

"I hear that Americanos are pretty popular in Korea," you said, placing your chin atop your laced fingers, looking up at Taehyun through fluttered lashes, "is that right?"

"It is," he replied, finally putting down his menu, "you better get used to it. A lot of foreigners think it's way too bitter."

"Funny, that's exactly what I think of it too." Taehyun wrinkled his nose at you; he very much liked Americanos, and once the waitress came around he ordered two of them, claiming that once you got used to the bitterness it was actually quite good.

It was quite odd to sit there in your booth, knowing that you were probably never coming back. You even told the owner, who'd come out to see you especially; he'd known you since you were a kid, and he let out a low whistle, propping up his elbow on the top of your booth, saying that he sure would miss you, and that if you ever did come back the booth would always be reserved for you. Taehyun froze up during these situations, you realized; that was one of his few flaws. Or maybe it couldn't really count as a flaw, because after all, he was still very new to town and felt awkward with people for a reason, but for some reason you found yourself wanting this to count as a flaw. You wanted reasons to not like him as much as you did, which had never really happened before—usually, there were always valid reasons to dislike someone, especially someone that you were romantically involved with in some way.

And then you wondered, did his obsession with Americanos count as a flaw? As you watched him sip his iced coffee through a paper straw, frowning as it quite literally disintegrated in his mouth, you thought that perhaps it wasn't—and you took another tongue-spasm filled sip from your own Americano.