Chapter Text
Taehyung swallows back his nausea.
The smell in the community meal center is not unlike the lunchrooms of his youth. An unpleasant mixture of something sterile like bleach but warm and wheaty like chicken and noodles. All white. No spices.
Once a week, during lunch, he volunteers even though the smell turns his stomach as his mind rolls through memories he’d rather forget.
He does it because it’s the right thing to do. Because Jin asks him to.
And he feels that he owes Jin and his partner Namjoon a debt he can never repay.
They were his first friends in New York City when he arrived a decade ago. Both on the cusp of being college graduates, they helped him find a place to live and get funding to go to school himself.
Now Namjoon is in politics and Jin runs the community meal center.
It was their combined efforts that helped Taehyung to open the queer youth shelter in the upstairs area above the community meal center.
They have only been open for a little over 3 years. Funds are low. Never enough beds. Resources are scarce.
However, Taehyung tries to help everyone who comes through those doors.
If he can find them a bed, he does. But the needs go even further than that. Jobs and healthcare. Mental health support and clothes.
He knows how hard it can be. He was once in their place.
Food is Jin’s love language and he insists on providing the young people with three meals a day. In addition to the small area upstairs, the youth center...rent free.
When Taehyung isn’t counseling or lining up resources, he spends his time looking for more funding.
Except for Thursday when he volunteers in the kitchen.
On the menu today is some type of steak. Not actual steak, but one of those oval pieces of chopped meat with some type of off-white gravy on top. A small dome of mashed potatoes and some green beans.
Jin is an amazing cook. But the ingredients he is forced to work with in order to afford the volume of people who come through the door looking for a meal leave much to be desired.
But people aren’t complaining. The recession of the past few years is supposedly ending, even though people in the Village are still suffering.
This is the part of the city where the outcasts converge.
Being a gay man in 1983, Taehyung is an outcast devoting his life to helping all those who suffer the same.
He smiles as he hands the plate to next homeless man in line. Bright blue eyes encased in wrinkles. A well know local alcoholic. The man's lips form an almost silent thank you. And Taehyung is encouraged.
“So, which is the young man you wanted me to talk to?” He scoops up another spoonful of green beans and hands it to the next in line. A woman with two elementary school aged kids.
Jin fills another plate with meat and mashed potatoes as he uses his elbow to point. “He’s over there at the end of that long table in the corner.”
“Again, you’re sure he’s a runaway?”
“Yes, certain of it. I found out a few days ago he’s sleeping down on the pier.”
“And did he tell you he was gay?”
“Tae, he’s sleeping down on Christopher Street Pier.” Jin rolls his eyes. “What do you think?”
“Well, not everyone down there is gay. Plenty of homeless alcoholics and addicts and –”
Jin hands him the plate. The open space waiting for green beans. “You know how sometimes you just know. Well, I just know. Trust me. I think he needs help.”
“What if he’s not gay and I offend him? I don’t like to just assume that about people. Most of the kids who come here needing help make it obvious. I don’t know about him.” Taehyung gives the young man another quick glance. “Perhaps he’s just a runaway.”
Jin gives him a side eye. “Okay then, just ask him if he’s a friend of Dorothy.”
“What if he doesn’t know what that means?”
“Why are you stalling, Tae? What is it?”
Taehyung looks helplessly at the plate as he hands it to the next person in line and forces a smile.
Of all the worries that managing the center poses, this is the worst one.
“We’re at capacity again,” he sighs. “Every bed upstairs is full. If he is actually homeless, I’m going to have to look at him and tell him there’s no room. I can’t stand to turn young people away after I know they’ve probably been through so much.”
“Well damn, I was hoping you still had an open bed from last week.”
“Nope,” The next plate feels even heavier in his hands. Everything feels heavy. “That got filled a few days ago. And I already have told two others we don’t have room in the past day alone.”
Jin shakes his head as he prepares another plate. “We’ve got to get you some more funding. Namjoon’s got some things in the works, but it just isn’t happening quickly enough.”
“I know,” Taehyung says hurriedly, suddenly feeling guilty. “I know he’s working on it. I don’t mean to complain.”
“Hey, it’s not complaining. It’s hard work you’re doing. But it’s important. We’re all in this together, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I wonder if Moonbyul still has that extra room above her shop?” Jin muses aloud. “I’ll call her this afternoon and see if she could help us out. Whether it’s for this kid or the next one. But I really think this kid needs a place to go. You can see it all over his face.
Taehyung looks over toward the young man and wants to point out to Jin that nothing can really be seen on his face as it can’t even be seen. Not only is he hunched so far over his plate that it is obscured, but his dark brown hair lays messily around his head. It’s not intentionally long; it just hasn’t been cut in a while.
Jin, who looks over as well, notices the irony in his comment. “Okay, well technically you can’t see his face right now. But trust me. I’ve seen his face.” He pauses and watches the young man thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I’m going to ask Byul if she can give him a haircut too.”
Taehyung releases a small laugh. Thankful for Jin’s ability to relieve the heaviness in any situation.
“Alright, I’ll go talk to him before I go back upstairs.”
“Go now. I got this,” Jin points toward the entrance. “Line’s beginning to fade out. I can handle the rest. You grab a plate and go join him.”
Taehyung shakes his head. “I can finish. I’ll just catch him after we’re done serving. I’m not hungry anyway.”
Before the words leave his mouth, Jin is holding a full plate out to him. “Take it. And for god’s sake take your hairnet off. You look like a school lunch lady.”
Taehyung pulls his hairnet off and stuffs it into his back pocket of his tan trousers. Takes the plate and nods. He knows there is no point in arguing with Jin.
Carefully he maneuvers through the cramped room. Tables so close they are nearly on top of each other.
Before he approaches, he tries to get a good look at the young man. He definitely is young. He wonders if he is even a high school graduate.
There is no question that he has been wearing the same clothes for a number of days by the wrinkles and stains. There’s a black bag at his feet which likely holds everything he owns.
It looks like he’s been on the streets for a while, but Taehyung can’t remember having seen him before.
“Is anyone sitting here,” he motions to the space across the table. “Do you mind?”
The eyes that look up are the largest, brownest eyes he’s ever seen.
Heavy with worry, but innocent all the same.
The young man just shakes his head.
“Thank you,” Taehyung mumbles as he puts his tray on the table and sits down. Laying the napkin across his lap. He truly isn’t hungry and nothing on the plate looks appetizing, but he decides to pick up his fork anyway and at least look the part.
After taking a bite of potatoes, and deciding he can’t stomach another, he attempts to break the silence.
“Too bad it’s not pizza day, huh? Jin’s specialty is pizza.”
The young man hardly lifts his eyes and gives a nod as he keeps eating. It isn’t unfriendly, but it is guarded.
“My name’s Kim Taehyung, by the way.”
Still nothing except for a quick glance and a slight nod.
Then it occurs to him.
"제 이름은 김태형입니다”
The brown eyes slowly rise to meet his. He utters a softly spoken apology.
“I’m sorry I don’t know enough Korean that well.”
“Oh, thank god,” Taehyung sighs as he lays down his fork. “Because I don’t know much more than that. And I just took a chance that you were Korean and not Japanese or Chinese.”
There’s a hint of a smile that begins on the young man’s face as though he finds Taehyung amusing.
When Taehyung notices it, he can’t help but smile too.
“I’m Korean American,” the young man’s voice is hardly a whisper.
“Can I ask how old you are? And your name?” Taehyung uses his gentler voice. The young man seems like he might scare easily. “You don’t have to tell me, but there are several of us here that may be able to help.”
The pause makes him worry that he isn’t going to answer.
The young man swallows but hardly makes eye contact. “I’m 21. My name is Jeon Jungkook.”
“Nice to meet you. Even though I’ll be 30 this year, you can call me Taehyung. I’m not big on honorifics.” He smiled a bit wider hoping to see the same on the sad, young face sitting in front of him, but the young man just nods as he forks the last bite of meat and places it into his mouth. Chewing slowly as he stares at his empty plate.
Taehyung fears that the only way to get Jungkook to talk is to start talking about himself.
“I’ve been in New York City for about 14 years now. I come from a small community called Newfane. About 20 minutes from Niagara Falls.”
Jungkook raises his head. His eyes read familiarity. “I’m from Lockport just south of Newfane.”
“Really?” In all his years of meeting people through his work, he’s never met anyone who knows of his small town. “So you grew up as well in the shadow of ‘The Honeymoon Capital of the World’?”
Jungkook sets his jaw and nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Kind of sappy,” Taehyung shrugs, “but still it can be nice sometimes...seeing happy couples.”
His hope is that the discussion will yield some information to determine if Jungkook is a homeless, gay youth as Jin suspects.
But he gets nothing.
Most of the time, young people in need seek the shelter out. They come to Taehyung and ask for help. He wonders if Jin is wrong. But Jin’s never wrong about things like this. Maybe he just needs to ask the right question.
“So where are you staying, Jungkook?”
Not even an eye raise. He shrugs his shoulders and keeps eating.
“Here and there,” he mumbles with a mouth full of food.
“Have you done anything cool in the city since you’ve been here? Lots of clubs to visit at night if you like to dance or listen to music?”
Jungkook shakes his head to indicate no. “Been trying to find a job so I can get some money.”
“Oh yeah, that’s definitely a first order of business being new in town.” Taehyung smiles warmly. “Still a young guy like you has to have some fun.” some fun.
Jungkook shrugs.
“Actually, there’s a lot of free things in the city. A couple of parades this month...” Taehyung pauses to gauge a reaction. “And in July, just next month, Diana Ross is doing free concerts in Central Park.”
Jungkook doesn’t take the bait on any of it.
He has either been hiding so long that he’s a pro or he truly isn’t gay and probably isn’t even sure why Taehyung is asking so many questions.
It occurs to him that Jungkook may just be a young person struggling financially. Many students come to the city, but between tuition and rent they can’t afford food and will often utilize the community meal centers.
“You’ve been out of high school for a few years. Are you here for college?”
Jungkook shakes his head. His eyes dart uncomfortably around the room and back to Taehyung.
“Not here. I was in the culinary program at the community college in Sanborn.”
“Did you graduate?”
Jungkook shakes his head. It’s a heavy shame filled motion.
“No.”
“Hey that’s alright,” Taehyung leans lower as he stretches his arm across the table, but stops just short of touching him. “There are great schools here. I can help you apply and find grants. Can I ask the reason you didn’t finish?”
He had already decided the moment he sat down and got a look at the melancholy on Jungkook’s face that it wouldn’t matter if he was gay or not. He is clearly in need. And Taehyung has never been able to turn away from someone in need.
“I had to drop out because...” Jungkook looks out the window next to the table. Almost like he’s trying to decide if he should finish the sentence.
Taehyung waits.
But as he stares at Jungkook’s profile, he sees it. Something familiar. And for all his failed questions. He now realizes he didn’t need to ask any of them. The answer was right there on Jungkook’s face.
The wariness. The hesitation to answer a question. The fear of sharing too much.
The fear.
Jungkook’s hand lays on the table. He makes a fist and then releases it.
Taehyung’s hand is just a few centimeters away. He closes the distance and places his hand gently across the top of Jungkook’s. Feels the slight but noticeable quiver of his knuckles settle.
Jungkook pulls his eyes away from the window and back to Taehyung. Still wide and deep brown, but glossy with the tears that are beginning to line the bottom.
Taehyung waits.
But it doesn’t matter if Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence. He won’t make him. He won’t make him say anything he isn’t ready to say yet. He knows all too well what it’s like to hide yourself for so long that it doesn’t feel safe to share anything.
Jungkook tries to finish. His words come out like sharp broken pieces of glass. Taehyung can feel every one of them.
“I had...I had to leave...got kicked out...of my house...” He pauses and looks down at his lap. Taehyung doesn’t think his head could hang any lower. “My dad...he found out...”
Taehyung rubs the top of Jungkook’s hand but doesn’t say any words.
“I don’t...have anywhere...to go. I didn’t know where...to go.” It’s a painful whisper and yet it’s so loud.
“You’re exactly where you should be, Jungkook. It’s going to be alright.”
Jungkook audibly sniffs back some tears but doesn’t look up.
And Taehyung just waits. It will be alright. He will make it alright. And he reminds himself that until Jungkook can believe it, he’ll have to believe it for him.
Jin had made the call to Moonbyul and set up the appointment even before Taehyung had cleared his and Jungkook’s plates.
“Scoot, scoot,” he shoos them out of the center refusing Taehyung’s help with post lunch clean up. “I told her I’d send you right over.”
Most likely she doesn’t have an opening today, but she made space because it was Jin who asked. Their friendship has spanned most of their lives as they were neighbors growing up together in Lower Manhattan.
Jungkook doesn’t say much as they are leaving and he says even less for the first four of the eight blocks to the hair salon.
“I think you’ll like Byul,” Taehyung attempts to ease out of the awkward silence. “She’s really cool and her salon is wild.”
Jungkook mumbles an “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s just a small little place, but she’s always packed. She does all kinds of coloring and styles. Lots of the people still into the punk scene are her regulars.”
Jungkook looks warily at him.
“Don’t worry, I get my hair cut there too. She won’t do anything crazy.”
As they rounded the corner to the shop, she was standing out front, leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette.
She takes one long drag and throws the butt to the ground stepping and twisting with her black heeled boot.
“Hey man,” she calls out, “you really did get here quick.”
“Well, we knew you were busy and we really appreciate you working Jungkook in.”
“Totally cool.” She looks Jungkook up and down. “Well kid, come on in. Let’s see if we can make you presentable.
She doesn’t for him to respond as she links her arm around his and pulls him through the door.
She’s one of those hairdressers who starts chatting the moment you walk in and doesn’t stop until she says goodbye when she greets the next customer.
Taehyung always marvels at how she doesn’t miss a beat.
Sitting Jungkook in the chair. Throwing the cape over him and tying it up. Pulling out her combs and clippers, the whole while telling them about a customer she had last week whose mother had come back in later in the day to complain about the coloring she did on her daughter.
“It was a gorgeous shade of purple. I’m telling you... gorgeous. Girl’s hair took it so well. Thought she was 18 because she said she was. But then her mom comes in later. Pissed as hell. Screaming at me that I ruined her daughter’s hair before the family picture. Turns out the girl was 15. My bad, but in my defense, she did look 18.”
“You may have to start carding for haircuts.”
She starts combing through Jungkook’s hair.
“You know what’s hypocritical? Is the whole time this crazy lady is screaming at me, I can’t help but notice her gray roots standing out against the worst shade of chocolate brown I’ve ever seen.” She stops and points her comb at Taehyung, “You know the bottle type shit that they do themselves?”
Taehyung nods and can’t help but notice that Jungkook’s eyes are watching Moonbyul in the mirror and they are the widest he’s seen them.
“So this lady’s probably been coloring her hair for years. A shade that honestly doesn’t do her face any justice. And yet she is freaking the fuck out on me because I colored her daughter’s hair.”
“Okay, kid,” She smiles into the mirror at Jungkook. “You good keeping your natural color or do you want your mohawk to be blue?”
Jungkook’s mouth drops in shock.
Taehyung stifles a laugh, but Moonbyul just raises her eyebrow in the mirror waiting for an answer.
“Uh, well, I don’t know...” Jungkook stammers. “Maybe next time. I sort of like your cut better. But with my natural color.”
She grins widely and pats his shoulder, “I like this kid!”
Even though short hair is fashionable for career women. Her cut isn’t like the ones seen on TV news anchorwomen or a Princess Diana feathery bob. This new cut she has seems to be modeled after Annie Lennox. Short, chopped and bright orange.
In the village she doesn’t get harassed about her unique hair. Last year she was sporting a sort of Billy Idol platinum blonde spikey style. But when she goes most anywhere else, people whisper. Lots of why does she want to look like a boy and maybe she’s a lesbian?
She’s got a great sense of humor and plays it off. But Taehyung knows from experience that sometimes the whispers hurt just as much as the loud shouts.
In a short time, she transforms Jungkook’s look. The short cut suits him, and she keeps just enough length that it has a tousled, youthful appearance.
Now to get him some clean clothes, a job, a place to rest his head at night...
Because that’s what Jungkook looks like he needs the most. Even with how young he appears, his eyes are tired. As though he has felt unsafe and afraid for so long that he’s been sleeping with one eye open. And therefore, not sleeping much at all.
“So Byul,” Taehyung remembers the other reason why they’re here. “Did Jin mention anything about your extra room upstairs?”
She shakes her head. “No, he didn’t. But I just moved someone in there yesterday.”
Taehyung’s heart sinks.
“Are you needing a place to live,” she asks Jungkook through the mirror.
“Well... I haven’t found a place...I’ve just—”
“Oh no, kid, you aren’t sleeping on the street, are you?”
Jungkook nods as his head drops but doesn’t lift back up.
“We’re looking for a place for him. The youth shelter is full. Over full. I’ve had to turn some away. I just don’t have enough beds,” Taehyung laments. It feels like his own personal failure, even though he knows it isn’t.
“Damn,” she hands Jungkook a hand mirror and spins him around. “Take a look at the back and let me know if you want it shorter, sweetie.”
The apartment upstairs only has two small bedrooms, a bathroom, a tiny living room, and an even tinier kitchen. She lives in one room but has been known to rent out the other to friends for next to nothing.
“Did you find someone to rent it?”
She shakes her head. “No rent.” Her sigh is an indication she doesn’t want to have to say aloud what comes next. And after the past year, Taehyung already knows. “You know Bobby, Heather’s friend?”
Taehyung nods. Heather is Byul’s girlfriend, but also a nurse. It’s exactly what he feared. “I heard he had fallen sick and was in the hospital. How bad is it?”
“Bad,” she takes the mirror back from Jungkook. “There isn’t anything more they can do. Insurance won’t cover any more time at the hospital. Not that he wants to be there anyway. We moved him into the spare room. She’s moving in to stay in my room and we’re going to take shifts taking care of him.”
“Oh Byul, I’m so sorry.” Taehyung has said those words so many times in the past year. I’m so sorry. He worries that they've almost lost their meaning.
“It’s alright,” she sets her jaw. “No one deserves to die alone. And no one I know will if I can help it. Heather’s who I worry about. She’s working extra shifts and it’s taking a toll on her. Some of the staff won’t even go into the rooms of the patients.”
It makes Taehyung sick to his stomach. It’s enough that men are dying. Several who have been close friends. But on top of it, they’re feared. Stripped of any dignity. Blamed even.
“But even though I don’t have the extra room, you’re welcome to the couch?” She looks at Jungkook again. “It will be tight, but we can make it work.”
“Oh no, Byul, that’s totally fine. We’ve got other places we can check. Jin just suggested we check with you first.”
“You sure, Tae? I don’t want this one out on the streets. Especially now that he’s about the cutest thing I’ve even seen with this killer haircut.” She gives Jungkook a smile. He looks relieved.
Taehyung is relieved to have the heaviness of the moment lifted. Even with the bad news. She’s one of those people who just seems to know how to keep hers and everyone’s spirits up. She’s like the female version of Jin.
“Trust me, he won’t be on the streets. We’ll get him some place safe.” Taehyung assures her.
“Okay good,” she unties the cape and brushes the hair off Jungkook’s arms. “I can’t wait until Heather meets you. She’s gonna think you’re a little doll.”
Jungkook smiles tentatively. Taehyung wonders if he’s ever been doted on like this. Something makes him doubt it.
Moonbyul refuses any payment despite Taehyung’s multiple attempts. She says she will next time. And then reminds Jungkook there would be a next time, because he shouldn’t let anyone else touch his hair but her.
When they leave the shop, she heads upstairs.
Taehyung knows the scene that likely awaits her. He’s seen it more times than he wanted to.
A once strong, vibrant man. Loving and loved. Reduced to an almost skeletal form laying in the bed. Chest heaving with each breath a struggle. And that horrible look in the eyes. The look that begs for answer. Why is this happening?
Taehyung doesn’t have an answer. No one seems to. There is more unknown and known. And assumptions are killing his friends.
It’s a terrible scene. And even though he doesn’t have other options for Jungkook to stay, having him stay there for a front seat to what is about to happen to Bobby is unthinkable.
“She’s a really sweet person,” Jungkook says as they walk together.
“She is. A very good person.”
“Her friend that’s sick? Is he...does he have—?”
Taehyung knows what he’s asking. Everyone knows about the illness. The way it’s running rampant through men in New York and California, but no one knows how to stop it.
“Yes, he has AIDS. Sounds like it’s near the end.”
“I thought they called it GRID?”
“At first yes,” Taehyung explains. “But they’re beginning to find it isn’t just killing gay men. AIDS is what they’re calling it now. Better than ‘gay cancer’.”
Taehyung looks up at the blue sky and wonders if he believes anymore. Wonders how anyone does.
“The only silver lining in other groups getting it is that eventually it will start killing people who matter. And then the government will step in and try to find a cure.”
Jungkook’s silence is heavy. And Taehyung regrets being so candid about the topic. His emotions are all over the place about it. Anger. Sadness. Rage. Loss. And the most paralyzing fear he’s ever known in his whole life.
It’s a lot to drop on someone as young as Jungkook.
“Sorry,” I just get a worked up about it.”
“It’s okay.” Jungkook says softly. “I understand.”
“Hey,” Taehyung changes the subject. “Let’s get you home.”
Jungkook looks at him in confusion. “I don’t have—”
“Sure you do.”
“Really, it’s okay. I’ve been okay sleeping down on the pier. Weather’s been okay. I’ll be fine. You’ve done a lot for me already.”
Taehyung puts his hand around Jungkook’s backpack and pulls it off his arm.
“I’ll carry this for a while.”
“But where are we going?”
“You’re going to stay with me.”