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The lamp light was way too dim. Jungkook fidgeted with the thin strip of metal in his hands. The lock remained firm and unforgiving, the keyhole winking at him in mockery. Sometimes the universe had a petty way of saying no. He inserted the handmade lock picker again, groping blindly in the dark, hoping for that sweet clicking. Nothing happened. Jungkook leaned back against the glass doors, finding himself slipping down slowly.The night was not a place of miracles. It called for depression.If it had been morning he would have laughed it off, all content, probably came up with some good metaphor. He would have plucked a few strings, literally, wrote a song about it, and thrown it away once he was done. His stomach rumbled loudly at that, reminding him that the last piece of decent food he had consumed was a piece of fried chicken the nice old woman at the fast food restaurant had given him. The door just would not budge. He gave it one last shove, the glass rattling hysterically. Shockingly, it opened this time and Jungkook stumbled headlong into the supermarket, spilling like a sack of rice onto the cold concrete. He was at the aisles at once and shoving packets of honey butter chips, choco pie and cookies inside his messenger bag. There were a few packets of ramen strewn on the floor carelessly, the remnants of a busy day. Jungkook paused, eyeing the packets. He had not had noodles in a month, but finding the hot water to cook it was going to be hell. He hummed a little to his thoughts, rummaging inside his messenger bag. He almost forgot about the banana milk. They were located on the aisle closer to the entrance. He made his way there, tripping over packets of spicy seaweed dispersed like crop circles. The light came then, right at him. Jungkook shielded his eyes, dropping low onto the ground like a soldier in a war movie that involved a lot of trench fighting. Some sort of hysterical siren noise wailed through the fragile glass doors he had painstakingly broken through. If it was not enough indication that the police had arrived, there was a booming declaration at the front door, “Hands up, don’t move.”Jungkook wanted to die right there, in a rather undignified position where he was crouching under the counter. There were two options, to stay and get caught, or to run and well, get caught. In the soliloquy of to run or not to run, Jungkook ran for his life towards the glass door. His heart pumped so loudly that if his footsteps did not betray his escape, it would surely have. Thought it was not escape, not really. Jungkook was running towards the police car, which blocked the nearest exit.It was a stupid thing to do, but he was no stranger to stupid things. Bursting through the doors, his messenger bag swung wildly as he charged towards the streets. There was a fence less than ten metres ahead. It was so close and Jungkook could almost imagine himself grabbing onto it and swinging to the other side, taking off once again as soon as his feet hit the ground. A hand grabbed his hoodie and pulled him back violently. The taste of freedom faded from his mouth, replaced by something bitter.He swung his fist without turning, catching onto something sharp, and then something soft. It drew blood. Jungkook lowered his hands as the man who still had an obstinate grip on his hoodie swore loudly. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the blow. “Remember the head,” he reminded himself. “Can’t go around with your brains spilling out.”The beating never came. Instead he heard the sound of metal clicking shut. He opened his eyes. A man was locking him to a pair of handcuffs. His head was bent, fingers working nimbly around the clasps. The man looked up, and throwing Jungkook an almost bored glance, pulled him along by the cuff, back to the Lotte Mart. If Jungkook knew anything at all, it was that being arrested was an overrated affair. When he stopped briefly to feel for his messenger bag, the man tugged on the metal links impatiently, drawing Jungkook with him as if he was a particularly wild animal on a leash. When the police car came into sight, he was almost relieved. The man came to a stop under the lamp light, reaching in his coat for the lighter and lit up right there, with Jungkook handcuffed next to him. They stood there in silence for ten minutes, thirty minutes? Jungkook lost count. He had lost count of how many times he had squirmed uncomfortably, or stared beseechingly at the man’s impassive countenance for some semblance of pity. The man was on his third cigarette, blowing out rings of smoke that convalesced in the cold.Jungkook perked up when he heard footsteps approaching them. “He didn’t take much, just some food and banana milk. I say we phone the man and tell him he got nothing to worry about, hyung?”Jungkook looked up abruptly. Maybe it was the Busan twang that got him, grudgingly and achingly, homesick. Maybe it was the earrings, the pretty kind, that swung all silver under the lamp light. “This one threw me a punch. It was so close to my eye I swear if I hadn’t ducked, hyung wouldn’t be standing here talking to you,” the smoke puffing chimney beside Jungkook made a quick slicing gesture. “So he talks,” Jungkook thought. How charming.The newcomer stepped forward and bummed a smoke too, leaving Jungkook feeling even more uncomfortable than before, even a little left out. This new man talked like a policeman. He did not seem like a policeman. He was wearing a soft white pullover and jeans slightly disheveled at the knees, and black dress shoes that made Jungkook scoff. In this weather, he was practically asking for frostbites. “I am sure you are fine, hyung,” the man remarked. “You look all fired up today,”The old chimney puffed in disgust. “Fired up my ass, Jiminie, ain’t that a pretty sight,”Jungkook noted his sleepy eyes and the sullen tilt to his lips. “We could all go home now,” Jungkook offered, and almost slapped himself. Since when did cops listen to delinquents?The two men both looked at him, as if surprised that Jungkook was still standing there.“Talkative, aren’t you?” the pretty one asked. He held out a hand. “May I?”It took Jungkook a second to register that he was talking about his messenger bag. He clutched it tighter to his chest. It was squashed between his arm and hoodie.The man sighed, and smiled. He seemed to be patiently waiting for the moment of Jungkook’s surrender.Jungkook was a little shit, but Jungkook did not give up his bag. “How would I know if you are the actual police? You aren’t even in uniform,” he insisted. The older policeman let out a loud guffaw. The other policeman reached into his pocket and drew out a black leather wallet. He took out a badge and pressed it lightly into Jungkook’s immobile hands. The Tae Gu Ki seemed rather accusatory. It was a shiny badge. Park Jimin, it said. Jungkook glanced up and down, feeling strangely like a customs official on the watch for narcotics. The irony of the situation was not lost upon him. Jungkook was the one in cuffs. The Jimin guy must have caught his wandering eyes and said, “That’s quite enough,” before reclaiming his badge. His rings brushed against Jungkook’s palm as he took back his card, they were cold. “But could you take off these handcuffs? I promise I won’t bolt,” Jungkook turned to Park Jimin. He was definitely toeing a line. What was it about the drivers who rebelled? The police returned fire with those big guns and the rebellion was curbed alright, but now there were rumours that the country was run by a bunch of dictators. The police was not kind, they were just doing their job and the job did not require them to smile and simper. But Jimin the police officer seemed to consider Jungkook’s request for a moment. “Well, hyung, it is kind of rude to put a kid in handcuffs like that, it is a minor off-”“First they ask you to take off their handcuffs, then what? Their clothes? Soon you will be dressing them in Saint Laurent and keeping them under your roof and letting them sleep in your bed,” the man stubbed out his cigarette with his boot.Jimin opened his mouth to protest but the other man held up a hand.“I am leaving this to you, officer Park,” he looked at a Jimin meaningfully. “I am tired of petty thefts dragging me out of my bed at this unholy hour. Do not disappoint.” Jungkook was dumbfounded when Jimin stood up straighter and kind of half saluted the retreating figure. Jungkook was even more surprised when the man just walked away, towards the open road. He was going to walk home, or hail a taxi, when there was a police car right next to him. “Who is he?” Jungkook asked, overwhelmingly curious. Jimin looked at him. “My superior.”Jungkook nodded like he had understood. He kind of did.“What’s your name?” Jimin drew out a walkie talkie, the real old kind, shaped like a chocolate bar with tiny holes on it. “Jungkook,” he said, and when it felt wrong, he quickly added, “ Jeon, that’s my full name.”“Age?” “21.”Jimin looked up at that, staring at him as if baffled, then he shook his head, and that was that.“Occupation?”Jungkook paused. Jimin looked at him with something terrible in his eyes, it seemed like pity.“Freelancer,” he said.“Any family, relatives, friends that has a right to be informed?”Jungkook shook his head. None in Seoul.“Right.”Jungkook stood by as Jimin did something to make the walkie talkie come alive.“This is Officer Park calling in, the suspect is under control. Yes, the victim will be notified. Shall I bring in the suspect? I understand, sure.” He turned to Jungkook. “The station is... a little overrun,” Jimin said, “We will be heading to the one in Mapo Gu.”Well, that is not ideal. Jimin seemed to take it all in stride, humming as he walked towards the police car. He even opened the door for Jungkook to enter. Jimin drove fast, he was a terrible driver. They were passing by the river when Jungkook could no longer bear it.“Jimin ssi,” he said, tasting the unfamiliar words in his mouth. “Could you open the windows?”Jimin laughed. A second later, the windows had descended and Jungkook leaned his face into the Breeze.Jungkook glanced into the rear view mirror. Jimin was tipping his head back, eyes closed. Jungkook turned towards the window again, ashamed.“Got yourself a nice bag,” Jimin caught his eyes in the rearview mirror.Jungkook looked down. “You don’t talk much after all,” Jimin mused, then gently, almost an afterthought, “Hey, don’t take it that way, it’s my job after all.”“It’s from my father,” Jungkook said, playing with his handcuffs.The car suddenly stopped, they were at the highway, a breath away from the river. A moment later the car door opened and there was Jimin leaning in, looking so apologetic. The handcuffs came off quickly and Jimin put back whatever magic police key he had used into the back pocket of his very unprofessional ripped jeans. “Here, I forgot about it,” he said, kind of all concerned. “Do you need something for your hands?”Jungkook looked at his hands properly. His knuckles were bleeding, probably from punching Jimin’s superior. “No,” he said.The petty vindictiveness seemed lost on a guy like Park Jimin. He returned with a pack of cotton pads and a bottle of mineral water.“I have nothing to disinfect the wound, but cleaning it helps.”“I’m fine.”Jungkook heard Jimin sigh and then there were wet cotton wiping against his bruised hands. He tried to jerk away, but Jimin had a firm grip on his hand and was cleaning it methodically, like it was his job to take care of criminals, suspects and wayward shoplifters.“I don’t like people touching me,” Jungkook said.Jimin clucked his tongue. “I don’t like people bleeding all over my car seat. It’s expensive.”Jungkook must have looked distraught enough to make Jimin smile a little. “You do this often?” Jungkook asked as Jimin finished and returned to the front of the car, wiping his own hands with the rose scented cotton.“Sure, once this guy came in and he had this huge abdominal wound and was just bleeding out against the carpet. We arrived before the paramedics and Guess who had to stitch him up. Rag doll business, sewing up the mess,” Jimin paused and glanced sideways at Jungkook. He did that a lot, the contact, the subtle expressions, Jungkook was beginning to notice, pulling in the casual listener.“He died two days later in the hospital, with maggots growing out that hole. It was not supposed to happen. We didn’t get a proper chance to interrogate him and then before was a just a dead body, you know? He was a murderer too, so that left an impression,” Jimin looked serene, chilling in the front seat of the car, body kind of relaxed.“So,” Jungkook said, “No hard feelings then.”“All part of the job,” Jimin leaned back. “I try.”Jungkook’s hands smelt like roses and baby powder. “Is this you doing your job then?”“What do you think?” he met his eyes in the rearview mirror.“Dunno,” Jungkook muttered. “Will I go to jail?”Jimin considered this. “For a theft, or larceny, 10 years tops. One year if you are lucky.”Jungkook felt cold all over.“You have got to be shitting me,” he blurted. “They can’t do that.”“Oh yes they can,” Jimin said very gravely. “I remember this guy who got 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread.”A loaf of bread, and Jungkook has stolen banana milk. Then Jimin laughed. It was a loud and unrestrained sound, almost giggly. It must be something about Jungkook’s face that he found very funny. “Chill, kid,” he turned on the ignition again. “In times like this, I doubt the law enforcement has the time or energy to entertain you.”“The riots?” “It would seem so, the veterans again. I guess you can’t leave totally fine after fighting in all these wars, it messes with your head.”“That’s some deep shit, Jimin ssi,” Jungkook said, and suddenly felt angry at himself.“Talk about something light then.”“Are you married?”Jimin looked thoughtful. “That would be a bit too early.”“Have you got children?”“Well.”“So you got kids.” Jungkook was strangely delighted.A slightly exasperated frown. “No, I was about to say that no one had asked me that before.”“What do they ask you then?”“Usually they do things for me, and expect to get something in return.”Jungkook looked down. “You don’t have to, you know.”“I know.”Jimin sighed. “You should go home,” he said abruptly.“Where?” Jungkook asked.“Home,” Jimin repeated. “We both know where that is. There’s the beach, and your old parents who sold fish.”“Did yours sell fish?” “I can’t remember,” Jimin said. “It’s been a while.”But it’s home, Jungkook wanted to say. It’s ugly and disgusting and you are a liar. There was the markets by the sea and in the winter it is all quiet and damp and in summer it is filled with tourists but still fucking damp. He never thought the sun was lovely, it was the wet days that left him yearning for something more. Maybe he came to Seoul to escape the sun, but the rain always pulled him back.“Don’t tell me what I should do,” Jungkook said. “Just arrest me or something.”“Jungkook,” Jimin looked resigned to altruism. “I mean, seriously. I am just some failed cheat at life to you and you are trying to make yourself feel better. But what’s the point? No one gives a fuck.”Jungkook opened the door and the car screeched to a stop. For a moment he stood in the wind.“Don’t stand there, it’s chilly,” Jimin said, hands on the wheel.“Don’t say that,” Jungkook said. “Where are you going to go?” he sounded reasonable and collected, everything Jungkook was not and did not wish to be, not in this moment, perhaps not ever.He turned around, stuffing his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, his messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. “Home.” Jungkook was tuning his guitar. The acoustics were so bad on these streets but has that ever deterred the adamant performers. He wished he could be more satisfied with his current equipment.He tuned as quietly as he could, observing the people walking by. He did that sometimes, lyrics moulding into stories in his head, the fascinating lives of those who walked by Hongdae before dark. Maybe then one day he might actually write a song that makes sense.It was cold enough that his guitar needed more love and care than usual. It did not deserve to suffer alongside Jungkook. Instruments were innocent, but their owners were capable of all kinds of sins. The first being the presumptuous asshole mindset that led them to pursue music in the first place, thinking that the public would understand. They were always disappointed. Jungkook has long leant how to be numb. It was inevitable but damn was it a killer of his creative sparks. The inability to grasp something tangible enough to put to paper.But maybe lately something slow came to mind, bits of poorly constructed lyrics that was at once cringy and comforting, something about the euphemism of fried chicken.It was a coping mechanism.He was in the middle of his first song when he got the first tip of the day. Jungkook looked down, nodded to acknowledge. Then he continued singing.By his second song he had noticed someone watching him, a man leaning on the wall opposite him. Jungkook wanted to tell him that the particular wall had been through a lot. Just yesterday a drunk had passed out against it, leaving god knows what bodily fluids behind.The man walked closer and Jungkook recognised him. It was the policeman. He went off tune for a note and resisted the urge to run for his life. But he could not leave his equipment behind, the precious mic, the cables, and his guitar.But Jimin just walked up and placed a ragged looking won bill into his humble guitar case. He still wore the a shocking amount of tacky jewellery, a cap covering his hair. And then the song ended. Jimin was still watching him intently. “You play anything local?” Jimin asked.“Only songs I like,” Jungkook dared to glance at him. Jimin did not look threatening, just sort of present.“Does that mean I can’t make requests?” Jimin asked.Jungkook was in the midst of packing up, swinging up his guitar case containing his notes, coins and guitar. He hurried to leave.“Wait,” said Jimin.He did not make to follow Jungkook, just stood there.Jungkook felt vaguely insulted. He stayed.“I don’t need help.”Jimin snorted. “Playing the tough guy again, huh, Jungkook?“I paid them, you know,” Jungkook said. He did not know why he was defending himself. But maybe there was something in the guy that made appearing good kinda important. “I left money on the counter.”He did not turn around, but Jimin’s voice softened. “I thought so too.”When Jungkook did not leave, he added, “If you needed money, all you had to do was ask.” “But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Jungkook said, hopelessly. “I wouldn’t have asked.”“There are plenty of ways.”“Worse ways, not exactly legal, so Officer, I don’t know what you are suggesting.”“Stick to the supermarket, Jungkook,” Jimin said. “There are worse ways, and worse places.”He left and suddenly Jungkook felt lost. Jimin was walking away.He raced to catch up with Jimin. “Talk to me,” Jungkook said, and realised how desperate he sounded. “I mean, let’s talk.” They talked. About anything really, from the really shitty fast food place just down the street, to the ever necessary debate on the superiority of Naruto to Dragon ball Z. They wondered through Hongdae, where the street Hawkers were getting ready for the evening. He got Jimin to buy Gimbap and Mandu, genuine, wholesome, blissfully hot food.They walked past a shop selling dried seaweed and pork belly with preserved vegetables.“So my boss was telling me something that day, that would be Yoongi hyung by the way, don’t drag me out of bed unless Seoul is burning. And I said, well there is always drugs and murder, which is kind of in our job scope. He said you let that kid go didn’t you, that’s fine, Jiminie, that’s alright. It’s getting cold nowadays and he would have done something sooner or later. Be responsible for the strays you rescue from the roadside, you know?”Jungkook chewed his Gimbap slowly. The Mandu with sweet peanut fillings was too hot to eat just yet. He was tired of holding the scalding paper cup in his left hand.“I hate it when you say that, hyung.”The familiarity felt right, chillingly so.Jimin laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, his rings glinting. “What? You should have seen yourself that night, looked like an overgrown animal, brawling with the police, breaking into private property.”“I didn’t, he tried to grab me first,” Jungkook said, and realised he was pouting. His eyes probably went all round too, nice going Jungkook, mature just like a five year old kid. “He hates me.”Jimin smiled and reached to touch his head. A casual, affectionate gesture. Contemptuously brotherly. “Yoongi hyung treats everyone and everything like that, expect nothing less. Besides, we got to use his car, he didn’t have to walk home, you know.”Jungkook doubled over suddenly, choking out the peanuts that went down the wrong way. Jimin thumped his back, instructing him to breathe. His fingers dug lightly into his hoodie. It was almost winter and Jungkook could name all the layers of clothes separating skin from skin. It’s kind of scary. He regained his breath quickly but stayed there quietly. His guitar almost toppled over. Jungkook cursed and straightened the straps, and secured the messenger bag to his shoulders. Jimin’s fingers slid past the baggages Jungkook carried, to rest briefly on the small of his back, warming the spot. Jungkook stopped breathing again. “Take it easy,” Jimin said. “You eat like this is your last meal.”Jungkook thought about it. “Haven’t had food like this for a week,” he confessed. “The stuff I eat is pretty disgusting.”Jimin ended up buying him jajangmeyon , apparently sympathetic. They sat down at the dining area set up next to the noodles stall. Jimin watched as Jungkook stuffed himself, silent around a mouthful of sauce and meat. He avoided leaving his elbows on the tabletop, Jungkook noticed, and sat rather precariously on the blue plastic stool.“You will fall,” Jungkook blurted.“No shit,” Jimin leaned back even more, the plastic bending dangerously. “I think this is some sign,” Jungkook said.“A sign?” Jimin asked.“From the lords of the sky.”Jimin giggled. “Sure, what do they want to tell us?”“That a police officer should not destroy public property,” “Shush,” Jimin whispered. “I am undercover here.”“That-,”Jungkook stopped. “What?” Jimin’s lips pursed, his eyes fixed on Jungkook.“It’s like a movie,” His eyes dropped to Jimin’s lips. Jungkook felt all the blood in his body rushing to aid with digestion, leaving his brain bereft of logic and his mind inhibited, which explained why he was feeling and acting stupid. Jimin leaned forward. He was stealing some of Jungkook’s food, which should have been infuriating but Jungkook could not stop staring.“Like hyung is really nice to me,” Jungkook muttered.“Am I?” Jimin tilted his head. His shirt pulling aside the column of his throat. Something in his eyes glinted, and something in his tone too. Jungkook swallowed thickly. Jimin’s thigh brushed his, watching him languidly. “I,” Jungkook began. But Jimin’s name was called suddenly.They both looked up. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Jiminie,” a woman said, leaning against the table, seemingly unperturbed by its greasiness. “Thought you were busy finishing up that report.”Jimin stood up to greet her. She embraced him and he remained standing, an arm slung around her waist, almost a gesture of propriety.“Couldn’t handle the typing, coming on ten thousand words,” Jimin laughed.The woman saw Jungkook, her eyes drifted over his messenger bag, his guitar, his food. He could almost see her dissecting him, assessing the situation.“Looks like you got company,” she addressed Jimin. “Come and join us later. Old place. If you still not heading back yet.”“Sure,” Jimin nodded. “That report isn’t going to fly away. Tell them to not wait for me.”The woman nodded and with a smile at Jungkook and a pat at Jimin’s ass, she left.Jungkook felt like he had lost some appetite. He was gaping, and fuming slightly.“Your Girlfriend?” He asked, shoving a large chunk of pork and beans into his mouth.“Does that matter?” Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Eat your food. I used my money to buy your nourishment, I want my investments to be worth something.”The old annoyance was back.“Get a cat or something,” Jungkook looked up around his spoon. “You can feed them all you want and they would meow to you.” Unlike me, he thought,“I have a cat,” Jimin said conversationally. “She’s called Cat and she chews on dead cockroaches.”“Huh,” Jungkook said. “I can’t do that.”“Play a song for me,” Jimin said suddenly.“Right now?” Jungkook was surprised.Jimin’s eyes were serious. “Yes, right here,”Jungkook glanced around. He didn’t give extemporaneous performances but Jimin had paid for it, kind of.“Do you prefer the light shit or the heavy shit?” Jungkook decided he could not escape this and pulled out his guitar, careful not to slam into the table.“Don’t talk like a dealer, Jungkook.”He plucked a few strings, heard the echo across the packed night air at the food stall, some other diners turning over to look. He tried tuning but the noise from the streets muffled the sounds. The light was dim, and he coughed, suddenly self conscious.If asked to come, will he really come?
If asked to leave, will he really leave?He risked a glance at Jimin. He was listening thoughtfully, and smiled when he caught Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook wanted to smile back. This feels different from performing on the streets somehow, at this moment there was just one person watching. Entertaining a crowd he knew, but Jungkook never learnt how to make one person feel good.He continued singing. Even after waiting for countless days, we will not be together
Nay, nay, it is nay
You cannot come, so take me instead.
You cannot come, so take me insteadJimin’s profile was half in shadow. He had lit up a cigarette and was smoking half heartedly. The lighted stick dimming as he held it carelessly in his left hand. Jungkook stared, a little fascinated now, as the smoke was lifted up by the night, like in a black and white movie, drifted into the stars and the sky. “I didn’t take you for that kind of guy,” Jimin tapped his cigarette on the table top, smearing the oily surface with ash. “It’s from that show, about the doctor.”“I just like this song,” Jungkook admitted. “My Mother used to sing it.”“Sounds like a lucky child.”“She had a story to go with it too.”“Is it one of those folk stories that we had to learn in school? With some fancy word and a big moral at the end. I hated those things,” Jimin looked up and placed his hand next to Jungkook’s. He had seemingly given up on minimising contact with the table.“No,” Jungkook said. “It was a love story.”“I like love stories,” Jimin said agreeably. “Tell me the story, Jungkook.”“Well, you know in the ancient times they lived in tiny wooden huts and shit, and there was this girl who stayed in the forest. One day she went out to collect wood for the fireplace and met a beautiful peacock who turned into a beautiful man.”Jimin snorted. “Hyung, listen. Anyway, they hit it off right away and the girl would meet the peacock man everyday by the lake where she collected wood, and before Long they were in love.”“Are you sure they were in love?” Jimin pointed out. “She could have imagined the peacock having feelings.”“They didn’t have much imagination in the ancient times, did they? Or else we would be getting something else instead of peacock. Let me continue. Maybe the man wasn’t in love, but she was in love, like, the head over heels kind, the creepy obsessive kind that you would get sent into mental Hospitals for. But apparently the peacock man didn’t complain, and instead told her that he was a prince of the sky, and he was escaping from his watchful mother. And because said Mother would never accept a mortal girl as the bride of her precious son, he could only sneak away for a while Everyday to spend time with her.” Jungkook thought of his own Mother telling this story. He was just a wide eyed kid, asking stupid questions like “where are her parents? Why doesn’t she have parents too?”Jimin was quiet. They both were. Jungkook wondered if he was thinking about a woman.“One day, the man did not come to meet the girl. The next day, he wasn’t there. And neither was he there the following day. The girl waited for him for days and days, until she was old and matronly, until she was old and unable to walk. Until one day, she just jumped into the lake where she had met the man.”“And died?” Jimin asked. “I guess. Well, the man came back after a hundred years had passed and was surprised to discover the wooden hut gone, the lake gone, and the girl gone. To him, a century on Earth was like a day in the sky. He was heartbroken and was stuck in his peacock form. The Earth must have taken pity on him because the girl’s spirit was revived and she became a peacock too. And they both flew towards the sky.” Jungkook ended, feeling slightly breathless.“They way you talk,” said Jimin. “It changed just now.”“Maybe I am just telling it the way Mother would have.”Jimin leaned into his hands. “I give it a seven, good story aside from the fact that it does not make sense at all.”“You should not ask for sense in a story,” Jungkook protested. “It’s love.”“Is it? That’s overly idealistic, even by story standards.”“Why? Love is supposed to be great in stories, it should be worth fighting for.”“And worth dying for? We die enough everyday.”“It’s the idea that you could die that keeps love going, death keeps everything going.”Jimin continued smoking, looking at him steadily.Jungkook felt a surge of panic. “Don’t think that way,” he said.Jungkook realised that he was clutching onto Jimin’s hands tightly. His knuckles were white. He released his hold abruptly.“You have a nice voice,” Jimin said softly. As if nothing had happened. Everything had happened.“I know.”“Thought of signing?”“Couple times, they came up to me on the streets.”“Why didn’t you?”Jungkook dug around his brain for the word. “Conflicted interests,” he said slowly. “Guess I am not that desperate.”“That’s pretty ironic,” Jimin raised an eyebrow.“I am not desperate,” Jungkook repeated. “I hate that kind of job. The peppy attitude and how everyone is hurting inside. That’s just dishonesty.”“I like honesty,” Jimin commented. “Makes my job much easier.”“I bet,” Jungkook said. “Your work ethics and shit. Always be nice to the scums who murdered their girlfriends.”Jimin did not seem angry. “People need that sort of thing,” he said. “When they are hurting.”“Sure you are a policeman, officer?”“You know the funny thing about dreaming about becoming something when you a child,” “Yeah,”“It never lives up.” Jimin played with his ring. “I used to be kinda sad about it, now it’s just a job, a life.”“I don’t think about it,” Jungkook said. “About life.”“Good,” Jimin nodded. “That’s really good.”There was another silence. “I am curious,” Jimin said, “Usually girls are birds, princes are not, even if they come from the sky.”“Mother put in that part because I wanted to be a bird,” Jungkook explained. “I wanted to be a seagull.”Jimin glanced at him. “What makes you think being a bird is so great?”“Not any bird,” Jungkook corrected him. “I wanted to be a seagull because they could fly over oceans, ride on waves and all that shit. Turned out I was wrong, they prefer lakes not oceans.”Jimin was smiling a little. “See,” he said. “All our broken dreams.” They were strolling along the river. Jungkook could still see the glow from the night market. It would not subside until early morning.He was distracted by the way Jimin walked, silently, lightly. They stopped for the third time“What?” Jimin asked.“Nothing,” Jungkook glanced away.Jimin looked closer. “Like what you see?”Jungkook hated himself. “Do you carry guns?”“Nah,” Jimin replied. “Just my belt.”Jungkook started. “Wanna feel?” Jimin asked. “Get closer, Jungkook.”Jungkook hesitated.“You scared?”Jungkook scowled and placed his hands around his waist, feeling around roughly. There was a belt, some hard objects. “There’s a baton, pair of handcuffs, a taser, torch,” Jimin said. “We sometimes carry firearms on the job, but today I am off.”“Fancy bringing handcuffs to a holiday,” Jungkook muttered.Jimin laughed. “How are your hands?”“It’s been a while, officer,” Jungkook said, a little aggressively. “Your handcuffs are not as damaging as you think.”“Shame, What need would we have of weapons if a pair of handcuffs get the job done.”“Like razor edged fire spitting handcuffs.”“Actually that sounds wonderful.”“Lucky criminals.”Jimin was leaning against the railings, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. Jungkook’s fingers brushed against bare skin. His body was warm. Jungkook shivered in the night wind. A levelled gaze was on him and he felt the weight of it without having to look up. “You know, I have been thinking.” Jimin closed his eyes. Jungkook stared at his lips. There was something about a person’s profile when they did not know they were being watched. It screamed vulnerability.“Ya,” he traced circles absent-mindedly, on his skin.“I should give less of a fuck to what people think,” Jimin opened his eyes.Jungkook dropped his hands, Jimin’s shirt fluttering in the Breeze.“It’s not that.” You are better than that.“Its not that?” Jimin asked. “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choices.”Jungkook gnawed on his lips.“Can’t say haven’t been expecting this moment,” he tried for something light. “Gonna throw me into prison?”Jimin smiled sadly. “You wouldn’t survive that.”“You pity me.” He said. “That is all.” It did not hurt too badly, like he had thought. In fact, he became more convinced as the words were uttered. The truth was, Jungkook did not know how to be angry. He had lost even that, pathetically, and did not know how to be angry at him. Jimin said nothing, and he reached to ruffle Jungkook’s hair.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jungkook had not seen Jimin after that day. Perhaps Seoul was small, and so was the world. But for those determined to stay out of each other’s way, there was always some less travelled path to take.He walked on the streets of Itaewon, passing by houses lit by red lanterns. These were brothels that the foreigners frequented. They charged them twice the normal rate too.People stared at him as he passed. Jungkook knew he didn’t quite belong here, with his hoodie and guitar case. Too forlorn, too plain. But then again, he had never belonged anywhere. It was all about the freedom here, and love, for all the artsy souls out there. But something of these kinds of places seemed much like an advertisement, the nation’s poster child. He had come to here to play for a bar. Well, it was mostly the money. A good offer, one of the best he had received. But someone had taken away his guitar after perhaps five songs, or was it three. In its place a glass of champagne was stuffed into his fingers and there were hands him lifting him off the stage. “Where’s my guitar?” Jungkook had asked, tearing off the tie he had painstakingly fastened for this evening’s show. In the packed heat, he was holding his breath to avoid the smell of cigarettes and something even stronger.There were faces hovering above, a man smiling at him and pressing him back into his small alcove among the bodies. With all his complaints, later Jungkook was being happily slammed against a wall of a compressed place. Some dingy alley. He groaned as the zipper caught and cut, the man apologising, all sounds melding into the distance. There were hands on him, groping his chest. A hand on his dick helped, and he leaned back, content, and closed his eyes.See the thing is, no one ever plans to get drunk, and then get fucked, or the other way round. Sometimes things happen. Jungkook would be happy to put it all down to the mysterious forces of nature that keeps everything in check. If it means he can escape some of the fault he owed. “Fuck,” Jungkook gritted his teeth after the first thrust.“Been a while?” the man asked.The wall was becoming very endearing to Jungkook. After all, his entire face was scraping against it rhythmically. “Can’t go any faster?” he shot back.The taunting proved more than effective as Jungkook had to dig his heels in. The man grunted with every hard slap against his ass. Something tricked down his thigh, soiling his pants. Then as quickly as it began, the man was pulling out. A hand on Jungkook’s cheek, brushing his damp fringe out of the way.“You okay?”Jungkook nodded. He felt numb, which was fucking fantastic. He pressed his cheek against the wall, his body too rubbery to stand up.“I don’t fuck and cuddle,” he told the stranger.The man chuckled and bid him goodbye and maybe something rare and pretty in that got him kind of choked up.“Hey,” Jungkook shouted after him, almost apologetic, “You are decent.”“You too,” came the reply. “More than you think.”That’s right, Jungkook thought.In the hazy aftermath Jungkook stumbled back into some sort of orgy, or party, which was not all that different, but at least the place was clean and warm. Some EDM was beating the hell out of his eardrums. He rather thought his little performance was of higher quality. He sat, perching on a soft looking couch. He ordered a drink after a while. Given how drunk he already was, it would not make a difference to be further intoxicated.A woman shouted at him in the pandemonium. Jungkook squinted into the distance. He did not recognise her, but she had communicated with him in the most familiar manner, so maybe that did mean they knew each other.“Hey!” She plopped down upon a couch, sweeping away the glitter and stickiness. “Think I’ve seen you before.”Jungkook looked upon at the shitty carpet with determination.She did not seem to mind. “Wait, you were with the pretty one, the cop.” She exclaimed. Her slinky dress made a dent on the glitter as she moved into the crowd, pulling with her a couple men, striding towards Jungkook. “Was it at at the bridge, near the river?”Jungkook stood there, kind of pissed. Jimin seemed to know everyone, be it his coworker causally dropping by in the middle of dinner, or the frequents of a shady bar doing shady things.And Jungkook just had to be pulled along into the grey area of lawlessness.“Look,” he said, trying to gather his last strand of logic before the alcohol swept it away. “I am here for the job, alright. If you would call the owner here, I will claim my money and go.”“Dude, nice singing,” one of the men clapped him on the chest.“He knows the cop, the one who came to bust us before. You lot wouldn’t shut up about him,” she bent down to pluck the empty glass from Jungkook’s hand. That statement made a jarring image in Jungkook’s head as her friends whistled, impressed.“Our Musician here is a man of connections,” the girl who shouted at Jungkook looked proud.“They busted you doing what?” Jungkook liked the law, he did not break it very often. But this was Itaewon, and as they left midnight behind, animals went crazy and pigs generally flew.“Just the usual,” someone in the group said. “Aww don’t be so guarded,” the girl said. “You could join us for the night.”“No.”“Come on,” the girl pressed something into his palm to replace the glass. Jungkook stared at it, then at her, in horror. “Don’t be so uptight, your Friend won’t know.”When Jungkook ignored her pointedly. She smiled knowingly.“ I see, it’s a domestic problem then.”“I don’t know who you are talking about.”“Yes, but you are blushing,” she said sympathetically. Jungkook opened his mouth to say that no he was definitely not. A crash was heard, the sound of something large being thrown onto the floor, effectively ending the conversation.Lots of screams rose up, the atmosphere became one of panic. Then she was gone, her friends throwing Jungkook suspicious glances as they left, with what appeared to be a horribly wrong first impression. There was a loud curse, and Jungkook barely understood the language. Suddenly there were glass shards flying everywhere and the place descended into further madness. A wine glass came at him from out of nowhere at all and grazed his cheek. Someone in a catsuit pommeled into Jungkook, ducking for cover. There was no choice but to hide, burrow somewhere and wait it out. But there was only so much space and being elbowed in the face seemed inevitable. It was brawl, Jungkook understood that much. It was a common occurrence, and the best course of action would be to leave. That proved more difficult than he thought.The next thing he knew was a fist connecting hard with his jaw. Jungkook fell sideways and hit the ground rolling. He was up in a second but felt the crack echo through his skull. Somehow he was pushing someone onto the ground, warm liquid dripping onto his shirt. He looked up and people backed away from him, like he was the grim reaper bending over a corpse. Wiping his forehead, his fingers came away stained with blood. Walking was a dizzying effort. The adrenaline left him shaking and something but in the end he made it, onto the side of the mayhem, watching as two guys rolled each other around like they were both punching bags. One of them was foreign. His shirt was being pulled on and Jungkook struck out. The returning blow made him see stars. The brawl had evolved into a fight with overwhelming scale. It briefly crossed his mind that he did not even know why he was fighting.When the next blow came, Jungkook knew he did not care. Not much anyway. The crunch of knuckles against skin was the only thing he knew, and it felt good. Why does the bad things always have to feel so damned good.There was a man on the ground. At first he thought it was another drunk, passed out in the bar with no energy left to return home. His throat was bleeding messily, a gnarled mess of flesh mangled there. It was terrible in how totally real it looked, that it was something that very well happened. There were no dramatic puddle of blood, just the man’s grey coat splayed around him, and an empty green bottle.Someone started screaming, really scratchy and high, and Jungkook realised he was not the only one seeing the body. Then there were shouts of “Get an ambulance!” Funny how the regret came later as a collective emotion. After the drunken stupor there was little bravado, just a vague sense of loss.Once more in his life Jungkook was greeted with the sound of sirens, the red dots flashing alarmingly in his line of vision. The ambulance arrived.Then there was none other than Park Jimin, looking a little blurry around the edges. Well, this was not ideal. He was frowning as he walked into the club. His dress shoes clacked soundlessly as he moved towards the gathered crowd.“Make way for the police please,” Jungkook recognised the other policeman as Jimin’s superior, pushing through the crowd with determination.Jungkook looked for Jimin again but there were too many people. “You see,” Yoongi was saying. “The law lets you drink, it lets you smoke, we all indulge in our vices as the law permits, good for us. But do we, I mean, do we, really have to do this?”He gestured to the upturned couch and the bloodstained carpet. They were all treading on glass shards.“Alright, your identification everyone! Makes the job easier if you could produce yours now, wouldn’t recommend sneaking out, my Officer is standing right there,” he nodded at the doorway and Jungkook stood on tiptoes to look.Perhaps he should know better because then a hand was tipping up his chin and he found himself staring at Jimin’s superior. The man was scowling.“Huh,” he said. “You again.”He snapped his fingers. “Jimin, look here, second offence. Also, you should -”Jungkook took that as an all clear to go and pushed out from the throng of people in the destroyed bar, towards the doorway guarded by a lone man.“I need to talk to you,” he said. “See, I am - ”He faltered as Jimin looked up from the clipboard, giving him his full attention.“Yes?” Jimin asked, perfectly ordinarily.There was something in his eyes, his tone, that Jungkook could not read.“I am sorry.” He realised he was right when he said it out loud, and that filled the already overburdened silence.Jimin betrayed no outward sign of that. He was back at it again, that ability to become unfamiliar in the matter of seconds.“Come with me,” Jimin said as the grumpy policeman shouted at his officer to get something for the boy’s face, for the love of God.He was promptly installed, and soon isolated at the small cramped space of the police car. Jungkook touched the leather seats with some wonder, because, obviously, he had been here before. It all felt quite surreal that he should be here again, after barely any time had elapsed. Jimin had spoken less than ten words to him in the entire duration of the sack of the club, as Jungkook had taken to call it now.It was some time later, in the early morning, that Jimin returned to the car, alone. Jungkook presumed his superior had chosen to walk home once more, rather than use the car.“Do you have anywhere to go?” “No,” Jungkook said. “Not really.” Turned out Jimin’s apartment was a cozy location near the main road, overlooking the bridge. It held the secret pride of small living accommodations, when the owner was aware of the limited space and was determined to make the best out of it. Jimin held the door open for him and Jungkook stumbled in, barely aware of anything at all.All he knew was that Jimin had a kitchen, and a cramped balcony, which was more than anything he could ask for. He looked around for a couch, a chair. There were none. The only option was the kitchen counter and he moved to sit down, if a little carefully.Jimin walked to open the windows, letting in air, and along with it the noises of the traffic, compounded by the small opening.“Do these cars ever stop honking?” Jungkook asked.“No,” said Jimin. “Got used to it.”“I suppose it becomes like white noise after a while.”Jimin made no reply. He was still terrifyingly quiet. They were both quiet, Jungkook being so good at it.He had begun to zone out when Jimin’s cat rambled in. He entertained himself by proceeding to pet the cat while Jimin was off somewhere, doing something. Jungkook did not want to fall asleep on the kitchen table. That would be rude.Jimin finally emerged, from the bathroom, it seems. He was holding a mirror and Jungkook recognised the cotton wipes from the first night, and some medicinal looking lotions in wacky plastic disposal bottles.“Here,” Jimin stuffed the mirror into his hand. “You might want to take a look at your face.”Jungkook inspected his reflection. It could have been worse, he concluded. He could have had his eyeballs knocked out, hanging by the optic nerve, or he could have gotten into a coma. “That’s fine,” he said, handing back the mirror. When that felt insufficient, and he added awkwardly, “Thank you.”“That’s fine?” Jimin scoffed. “Looks like you swam in a river of blood for kicks.”Jimin began wiping the blood off his nose. Fingers, so, so careful on the bruised skin. Jungkook started humming, holding Cat in his arms, stroking the animal lightly. It was relatively content, and was almost snoring before long.“What, you don’t mind being touched now?” Jimin said. It was not a question.“No.”Jimin was applying some disinfectant. It smelled sharp, clinical. It stung. The pain felt soothing somehow, Jungkook closed his eyes, lulled by the gentle hands.“Hey.”Jungkook jolted awake.Jimin was standing over him, looking down worriedly.“Don’t tilt sideways,” he said, bending down again to examine a particularly nasty gash. “You were about to knock off my plant.”Indeed, there was a pot of innocent looking greens on the edge of the kitchen counter, perfect prelude to catastrophe. Speaking of which, the cat was no longer napping on his lap, probably snuck off to find food, the little traitor. “I fed the cat,” Jimin said, a mind reader. “Actually, you need feeding too.”He moved to leave, withdrawing, moving away. Jungkook grabbed his hand before he could go. And kept it there, pinning it to his thigh.Jimin stilled, his hand motionless on Jungkook’s lap. He looked so ruffled, his hair tangled and his eyes tired. It occurred to him that Jimin might just be human too.“You are angry.” He said“I am not angry,” Jimin repeated, no inflexion in his voice to indicate conviction or disbelief. His gaze locked onto Jungkook’s. Jungkook looked away first. There was a finger under his chin, turning his face so that it faced Jimin, upwards so that he could look at him searchingly. Jungkook knew that he was stripped bare of everything in that moment. He knew that Jimin knew, saw the heat, the desperation, what he did not attempt to conceal, could not conceal.“Let me get you something for that alcohol,” Jimin turned around again. All he could think was that if he let go, Jimin would never come back. It would never be like this again. So he lifted Jimin’s hand, turned it over in his grip. Looking at Jimin from under his eyelashes, Jungkook laid his mouth on the bare skin of his wrist, kissing down the vein towards his palm. “Jungkook,” Jimin said. His pulse thrummed under Jungkook’s fingers. “We should talk.”“Why?” He traced his lips around Jimin’s finger, sucking it in tightly.“You are not thinking.” Jungkook felt Jimin watching him, the lazy but focused way he sometimes did.“You mean I can’t do this?” Jungkook bit down lightly, earning a light gasp from Jimin.“I want you to live, Jungkook,” Jimin pulled away his hand, watched as a single drop of blood welled up on his fingertip, dripped down.“I am living.”“Are you happy?”“You make me happy.”Jimin turned around abruptly at that. He stood there for a moment, facing the balcony. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” He said in a low voice.Jungkook could not see his face, only his shoulders, slightly hunched. Gingerly, Jungkook placed a hand on Jimin’s spine, and wrapped his arms around his waist, head resting on his shoulder, cradling something precious.They watched the traffic together, the ever flowing cars and trucks of Seoul, the nameless, heedless populace hurrying down the pedestrian walk, ghostly apparitions. The only warm thing was the lights, and that somehow permeated the apartment, filling it with an orange glow. “I mean every word I say.” Jungkook whispered and watched as Jimin’s lashes fluttered in the phantom wind.“Don’t say pretty things,” Jimin reached to touch Jungkook’s hair, but there was a smile on his face. “I always liked your honesty, Jungkookie.”“Hyung is cute like this,” Jungkook found himself grinning when Jimin smacked him, lightly.“Well,” Jimin said. “Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”“What?” A hand reached behind, snaking past the waistband of his jeans to rest on his crotch.“Well,” Jimin marvelled. “Didn’t expect that.”The friction did nothing to alleviate the heat and Jungkook fought the urge to moan loudly. That made Jimin glanced sidelong at Jungkook, who was a little red in the face from keeping it in, and chuckled under his breath.His hand lingered and rubbed against a layer of cloth, purposefully, but Jungkook felt the burn as if skin was against skin. He walked backwards, pulling Jimin with him, leaned against the kitchen counter and tipped his head back.“Take your shirt off,” he pushed on Jimin’s chest. They were all the way here, standing there with a hand on his dick, and clothes had not even come off yet. How inappropriate.“Is that what you want?” Jimin pressed, crowding him against the counter, his belt digging in. “I would rather you take yours off first.”Jungkook shivered. “Asshole.” He pushed back against Jimin, as he ground his hips against the his.A hand snaked over his chest and began undoing the buttons. His shirt was abandoned quickly, a pale white heap on the floor. Jimin barely glanced at the mess. His fingers, so pretty, was rubbing his nipples. Jungkook nearly slid to the ground at the contact and that scraped Jimin’s nail against the hardened bud. He shuddered at the unexpected pain. Jimin watched that with interest. He flicked against his nipple again, hard.“Fuck,” Jungkook reached forward blindly with his hand against the counter. The plant fell off in earnest, with a loud crash. The soil spilled everywhere. Some even flew into Jungkook’s mouth.Jimin ignored it pointedly. His hands were lingering on Jungkook’s abdomen, going further down and down, with caresses that were not so gentle anymore.His pants were ripped down and Jimin was touching him, skin to skin. It was bunched above his knee, inhibiting movement. Not that Jungkook could move if he wanted. He knew what was coming but still winced when the cool air hit the back of thighs, and somehow he got harder at that, almost rubbing himself against the surface of the counter. “You are soft here,” Jimin slipped a finger against his rim, pulling it apart. Jungkook coiled up at that and spread his legs unconsciously.Jungkook waited, growing more hot and bothered by the second.With a rustling of clothes Jimin was gone, leaving him there, his bare ass exposed to the elements and his pants pulled down like the first time he had fingered himself under the sheets and was too scared to clean up.“Come back, hyung,” he whined. “If not I will hump against this thing.”Jungkook glanced behind. He watched with rapt attention as Jimin lined himself up and slicked up the condom, strokes to get himself hard. It struck him there and then. Jimin kept condoms in the kitchen.“You are really weird,” Jimin remarked, pressing against his skull to get him to turn around. “Threatening my furniture.”“Got tired of me?” Jungkook turned to look again from his awkward position. “Maybe you should have arrested me.”Fingers were shoved into his mouth, deep and Jungkook choked. The salty tang of metal, like blood, wrapped around his tongue. “If I let you go there,” Jimin slipped two fingers into his ass, and Jungkook sighed in relief. “Do you think it would be me fucking you?”Jungkook could only mumble against his skin when another finger was added. It burned deep and rubbed against his insides, getting all liquid and warm. Jungkook wanted to find the elusive words, ended up babbling a whole lot, making Jimin withdraw his fingers almost immediately, asking him what was wrong.Jungkook, muted till then, panted and spoke hoarsely, feeling his voice rattle in his burnt up throat.“Hyung, I know you like this stuff and all, but does you cat piss in the plant pot?”“So talkative,” he asked. “Your first time?”“Yes.”“Liar.”They both knew it.“You are so loose,” Jimin removed his fingers.“Just fuck me,” Jungkook grabbed behind him blindly. Jimin did not reply, just pushed his arms down, bent him up against the counter, and went it in one thrust.Jungkook moaned loudly, the one he had been holding in from early on. Shit, he buried his face against his arm as Jimin bore down upon him, sliding in and out. He could feel the sharp friction detached fascination. Then Jimin hit against him, and something inside Jungkook broke. “Jesus,” he gasped for air. “Hyung.”Jimin’s next thrust almost knocked him off and he scrabbled for purchase, widening his stance.“What?” Jimin asked, hands warm and slow on his lower back, which was different from other times, and felt nice.“Wanna see you,” Jungkook nearly bit his tongue as his rocked with motion of being fucked against the counter. He felt giddy, a new wave of absolute brazenness washing over.Jimin pulled out and he felt the change immediately, whipped around quickly. And for a moment, he found himself standing face to face with an obviously fucked out Park Jimin, just as he had imagined, and a thousand times more tangible than the stuff of his dreams. The colour was high on Jimin’s cheeks, and his lips, red and bitten, now Jungkook could finally stare at without the familiar shame biting his insides. It occurred to him that Jimin still had his shirt on.“Your shirt-,” Jungkook pointed, slightly miffed when was cut off by lips against his own. He was being kissed, Jimin tasted like roses and something else, something real and sweet. “Been thinking of this?” Jimin asked as Jungkook plopped down on the counter again and hiked his legs up. “The first time I saw you,” Jungkook admitted. “I wanted your shirt off.”Jimin laughed against his mouth, and entered him again. “Did you think of me often?”Jungkook found it very hard to smirk when Jimin tilted his head back, exposing the pale column of his throat, a light sheen of sweat coating his thin collarbone. It felt intimate, all too intimate, to have his gaze fixed on him, often too piercing. Jimin always saw too much, and to have him stroke his inner arm softly felt more dangerous than he ever imagined. “Every night,” Jungkook squirmed at the raw sensation of the tip against his prostate. He tried to clamp his legs together. “I am that stupid.”It was the haze that finally caught up, he could not stop talking about the little things. Maybe that is just the way things were, when it got too beautiful to bear.He fell into the high, fell apart in it, almost banged his hand against the counter. Jimin was still inside him, which drove him a little crazy with sensitivity. In a vague state of consciousness Jungkook felt Jimin pulling out.Jimin’s hand was touching his cheek, which Jungkook realised with surprise, was wet.Jungkook was a terrible crier. When he cries everything comes spilling out like Doraemon’s magical pocket, everyday objects like pens and blankets, and sometimes even his poor little heart.He cried with shoulder racking fits of intensity. Worst of all, he wept and did not talk about why. People used to ask him why, if he had hurt himself. They all gave up afterwards, frustrated and thinking that Jungkook, being the impenetrable little shit, was not worth it at all.Jimin did not ask him why.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The room was still dark when Jungkook woke, the heavy curtains drawn tightly in the enclosed space. He stood up and padded out on bare feet, realising belatedly that he had slept on a bed. His own pillow was dented, but the other side was too. Jungkook walked into the living room, filled with light. It must be morning.Jimin was sitting before the windows, on a wobbly rocking chair that he had not realised was present the previous evening. There was an ashtray beside him and he was stubbing the light out, before looking up and catching Jungkook’s eyes, gesturing him over.“I would offer you one,” he said. “Except you don’t.”“I really hate smoking,” Jungkook said. “Ever told you that?”There was a silence and then Jimin patted on the tiny space beside him on the chair, and they both squeezed into it gratefully.“My father used to burn though packs like,” Jungkook said. “His life depended on it.”“My family would not like me now,” Jimin said. “My brother has a degree and everything. He’s studying here, haven’t seen him since I left home though.”Jungkook could only stare. They had never broached the dangerous topic of their past, how they came to be trapped here in the city. Now it was spilling out it went slow as dripping honey.“How do you know that he’s here then?”“Passed by the university, saw the poster about some kind of activist gathering, and his face was right there.”“I would go back home,” Jungkook said, and remembered what he thought that day in the car. “Do you still think of the rain?”Jimin pulled a face. “It was nice, except when the whole place flooded.”They laughed quietly at that, both thinking of the childhood in the same city. The city which was much more than fish and beaches.“The day I left,” Jungkook said. “I don’t know where I got all that from but I told them I really didn’t care, haven’t said that before in my life.”There was a way to this. One sorry memory traded for another, no judging, no commenting. “I used to dance,” Jimin said. “Couldn’t make that work.”He paused and took Jungkook’s hand in his own, stroking his palm softly.“So I guess you are a monumental person for doing what you want,” Jimin said. “Pursuing my dream,” Jungkook said, feeling funny afterwards. “Yes,” Jimin said. “That’s rare.”Cat walked in and climbed onto Jimin, effectively blocking the view with a fuzzy patch brown of fur.Jungkook had an idea. “Hyung, have you ever tried exorcising the cat?”“What?” Jimin looked very young when his eyes widened like that.“I have heard dropping it from high altitudes help,” Jungkook providedThere was that unguarded smile again, and the now familiar smack on the arm.Jungkook lingered on the armchair as Jimin spent some time in the bathroom, washing himself, washing the cat or something.The urge to do something, anything hit him everywhere, until he could not stand it anymore and simply had to get up. Jungkook left the door slightly open, scribbled a message on a piece of paper and tucked it under. It would be fine. He got the deal. For the first time in years, Jungkook was officially employed. By a big company at that. He was signed, properly and officially and contracted and all that. On his own terms, of course. Now it was up to the management to keep their promise. The world had changed when he was walking through the streets. And he bought himself Gimbap.The street hawker looked familiar, the flower apron she wore nipped at the edge of some memory.It had been a while since he has come to Hongdae to busk. It was warmer now, the people walking there just before dark no longer the trench coats and sweaters. There were fashionable scarfs, sunglasses and even scandalously short skirts.By the river, yellow flowers bloomed along the pavements. Some of the petals fell and instead of being squashed, formed small piles of sweetnesses, only to be swept away moments later.Jungkook walked towards the railings by the river, treading on a patch of young grass, watching as ants scuttled away from his boots.But his spot was already occupied, someone had beat him to it. Jungkook continued walking towards him, then paused when the man turned around. There was the ripped jeans and white shirt, the tacky metal jewellery.“Hyung,” Jungkook said in wonder.Jimin was a mirage in the sunlight, somewhat warmer and golden at every angle. When he smiled, Jungkook smiled back. “I missed you,” Jimin said, and touched his cheek. “Been waiting for you.”Months ago Jungkook would never have admitted it, but he said things now, things he meant. He had given up saying things that would make him regretting being the bad guy.“I was scared, “ he grabbed Jimin’s hand and then they were standing close. “I don’t think I am scared anymore.”The river was silent, but perhaps it remembered a winter’s night when the tunes of lost love meandered in the breeze. The river felt the change, and if the heartbeat of eternity fell into the same rhythm as they who walk by, the shutting of one door and the opening of the window to utopia.Never waking up from this dream.