Pretty Like Poetry | TAEJUN

"Where have you been?" Yeonjun's mother asked as he walked into the living room, setting his bag down at his feet before taking a seat.

She looked ready for a business meeting—gold jewelry gleaming against her dark blouse, black pumps, a charcoal pencil skirt hugging her frame. Her sleek hair was styled neatly, a precision that only amplified her stern expression as she looked at him.

"I told you, I was at a friend's house studying," he reminded her, his voice tired yet practiced. Surveillance was the norm here; seventeen or not, he was expected to explain himself.

"And which friend might that be?" Her eyes narrowed, piercing.

"Taehyun," he replied, hoping to skip past the details.

"Kang Taehyun? The one you're always competing with?" Her lips pursed in what he recognized as her disapproving expression. She placed her hands on her face and muttered, "How embarrassing," her words sinking as her hands dragged down her face, and she stood up.

Her reaction stung in the way he had expected but hadn't prepared for. She always found a way to make him feel small over Taehyun, like Taehyun's success magnified her disappointment. But Yeonjun couldn't bring himself to resent Taehyun; he knew none of this was Taehyun's doing. For all he knew, Taehyun's parents could be just as unyielding.

"Go get changed," she said, dismissing him with a wave. "We're going to your uncle's for his birthday dinner."

With a sigh, Yeonjun slumped into the sofa after she left the room. It felt like she wanted him to disappear for the evening, a flaw to be hidden beneath a perfect smile and a pressed collar. His eyes drifted to the staircase, debating how much time he could spend here before someone inevitably came to hurry him along. At least his cousin would be there, the one person who'd make this tolerable. She'd likely vent about their parents' nagging, too, which made him feel less alone, even if he never shared his own troubles. With family, you couldn't risk saying too much. Not even to the ones who seemed like they might understand.

***

Across town, Taehyun adjusted his headset, the dim pink glow of his LED lights illuminating his otherwise dark room. No sooner had he logged on than his friends started their usual banter.

"So much for not spending the night losing to Beomgyu," Taehyun laughed, his voice trailing off as Beomgyu's boisterous laughter rang out while the others loudly protested their losses.

"Yeah, as if you'd do any better, Taehyun," Soobin said, smugness dripping from his tone. He knew Taehyun stood the best chance against Beomgyu, but it didn't mean victory was guaranteed.

"Believe what you want," Taehyun replied, his voice a touch defiant as he settled back into his chair, a small smile playing on his lips.

Beomgyu took the opportunity to dive in. "So, how was studying?" he asked, his tone layered with teasing curiosity. "Did Yeonjun look at you with heart eyes all night?"

Taehyun rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh. "You're all idiots. No, he didn't."

A chorus of disappointment echoed through the headsets, Hueningkai's overdramatic sigh mixing with Beomgyu's snickering. Only Soobin seemed amused by their failure to get a rise out of Taehyun.

"Come on, not even a little brush of hands?" Hueningkai piped up. "You reach for a pen, he reaches for a pen. Slow-motion moment. A longing gaze?"

"What is this, a romance movie?" Taehyun asked, cringing with a chuckle. He couldn't imagine such a moment in real life, and he wasn't about to give his friends anything to latch onto. His day with Yeonjun had been...nice, maybe, but nothing like they were imagining.

"Such a letdown," Beomgyu groaned, melodramatic. "What's the point of us even teasing you?"

"Trust me, you have plenty of other material," Taehyun replied, a hint of a grin in his voice.

"Fine, fine," Hueningkai relented, sending Taehyun the game invite.

Taehyun leaned back into his chair, one hand gripping the armrest, the other still holding his controller. "Actually, guys, I have a joke for you," he smirked, unable to resist the setup.

"Oh? Spill it!" they said, their voices eagerly overlapping.

"So, I booked a psychic appointment online..." he began, savoring the silence that followed, his grin widening as he continued.