( strwonwoo )
Rarely does a person mean much to Taehyung. The bulk of human existence are only forms, faceless and nameless, who take up room in the hallway and his life. It’s easier to ignore them, because they’re judgmental, misunderstanding, aggressive and a whole plethora of adjectives used to describe villains found in various forms of media. But when he finds someone he can stand, he latches on to them like a leech, soaking up all their friendship and nutrients. His co-worker, Wonwoo, was quickly becoming such a person, one who would fall victim to Taehyung’s adoration.
Their time was spent slipping away, like sand grains through clenched fists, at their local movie theater. When they first met, the dark-haired, dark-eyed male was quiet, incessant frown clouding his features. But something, maybe Taehyung’s airy giggles, maybe his rectangle grin or maybe the cooing sounds he made at the latest Sci-Fi film poster, broke down his walls. Laughter quickly filled their shifts, instead of awkward silence, and Wonwoo taught the elder how to clean more efficiently. And it would usually be against his sense of righteousness, but the splatting sounds of half-full cups hitting the back wall was satisfying. Even Taehyung had to attempt to be an Average Teenager on occasion. The best part was when complaints of the last row smelling vaguely of Coca-Cola made it to their ears.
But he never expected that he’d try to take it to the next level. With his other friends, or people who put up with him more likely, never did he ask them to come over or “hang out”. Too afraid of overwhelming those he held close with his strangeness, he kept quiet, waiting to be noticed instead of taking a leap of faith. One day though, as they dined on movie snacks (Taehyung bought his, Wonwoo did not, but he had stopped chastising him for it long ago) in an empty theater after finishing cleaning faster than usual, they conversed. Their seats were directly next to each other, despite being able to sit anywhere they pleased. Taehyung’s ankles were tucked under himself, as the subject moved to a common one: television.
Naturally, the first series he brought up was the one closest to his heart, The X-Files. But the blank stare he received in return was enough to confirm his worst fears. Immediately, all his inhibitions were thrown out the window, and he cleared his throat, voice in an atypical (atypical for being around Wonwoo anyway) mutter, “Would you like to come over and watch it with me sometime? I… think you would like it? Maybe…” Tongue slipped out to lick dry lips, as he turned away, not wanting to look rejection directly in the face. His gaze focused on the items within his palms, as if Red Vines were much more interesting than their current conversation.