On the worst days, it feels like the entire world shifted at one point and Jun just didn't notice.
It feels as though- feels as though everyone moved the furniture in his metaphorical house one inch to the left, leaving him always bumping into something or another as he tries to navigate his daily life. It feels like he's missing something, memory painting itself in shades of tangled red, and he spends some nights just staring at his ring finger, left to wonder why it feels so empty.
He mentions it to Nari, once, twirling his fingers around empty space, and Nari simply stares at him, arms folded over her chest and expression blank.
"You must be imagining things," she replies, and that's that.
It doesn't explain everything, though, and Jun wishes it did. It doesn't explain the way he wants to call someone with a phone he doesn't have, doesn't explain the way his gaze traces over couples, wondering if they're meant to be, doesn't explain the way his brain so readily accepts the fact that he has friends despite his life being so achingly lonely-
It's perhaps this reason that he's so willing to accept Jaewon into his life.
Even this, though, feels like he's bumping into the corners of tables. It feels- feels too easy, almost, as if this is meant to be difficult, as if he's meant to be suffering yet again, somehow, and he finds himself rubbing his bare ring finger whenever the thought comes up, memory tangling in his mind like a ball of red string.
What is it he's missing?
Jaewon asks him about it, once, when they're stuck inside in the middle of a storm. It's raining outside, the sky painted in shades of black and gray, and Jun's rubbing his ring finger to seek comfort in something that isn't there, and Jaewon stares at him for a moment, eyes sharp and piercing and old in a way Jun's only ever seen in the mirror.
"You do that sometimes. Rubbing your finger."
"Yeah," Jun vaguely replies, gaze pinned on the horizon. "Dunno why. It just makes me feel better."
The clattering of plates fills the air, and Jun sighs, a feeling of acute deja vu washing over him once again. God, he hates this feeling - like he's searching for something he'll never find - and his fingers tangle uselessly in thin air, a dull ache settling in his chest.
"Are you okay?"
Jaewon's staring at him, then, concern shining in his dark eyes, and Jun nods, relaxing his hands against the table.
"...yeah. 'm fine. Just... just missing something, I guess."
"What is it?"
"I don't know," Jun finally replies, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest that threatens to resurface. "I just... I don't know."
Jaewon frowns at that, but says nothing.
On the best of nights, he thinks he can almost see their faces.
There's four of them, all filling one long couch, and someone has their feet on his lap, someone else's head resting on his shoulder. One person laughs - a woman, maybe? - and flops into another man's lap, and the person on his side sighs, reaching over to tangle their hands together.
It's comforting. It's- it's nice, it's perfect, it feels like home, and Jun always feels empty when he wakes up, the nagging feeling of missing sticking in his chest and threatening to choke him.
It'd be nice to have friends, he thinks. It'd be nice.
It's for this reason that he mentions it to Nari.
"We should hire someone else, too."
Nari stares for a moment before laughing, and Jun scowls, sliding past her to grab his apron. "Fuck you, I'm serious."
"Get more customers. Then we'll talk."
"What, do you think I can just magic customers out of thin air?"
"I mean, you seem to think I can make money appear, too, so I don't know."
"Fuck you," Jun replies, but there's no bite to his words. It's one of the bad days - the ones where he's feeling empty and unsteady - and Nari must be able to tell, based on the way her fingers ghost over his shoulder for a moment before gripping it.
It's more of a question than a statement, which Jun appreciates.
"Kinda," he vaguely replies, unsure of how to explain to her that it's more of a missing than any kind of too much. "Just... tired, I guess."
Nari stares at him for a moment, brow furrowed and lips pursed, and Jun hardly has the time to ask what she's doing before she shoves him towards a table and chair, lips pursed in a frown.
"Go! Go sit!"
"I'm making you coffee!"
Jun grins a bit as Nari heads for the counter, gaze falling to the table as he traces the dips and curves of a line he doesn't know the end of. It feels like he's been cut loose, left to drift without a life preserver, and he's not sure where this ends, or if it even does.
It'd be nice to not be lonely, he thinks.
"Here," Nari brusquely replies, shoving a mug in front of him, and oh, Jun thinks, maybe I'm not so lonely, after all.