Chapter Text
Father is coming to pick him up today and there is cold anxiety nestled in between Jimin’s ribs. He hasn’t seen his father in more than two months. Not since the night he set Jungkook’s room on fire.
Jimin hadn’t wanted to see his father during his stay at the clinic and had only spoken to him once, on the phone, last week. He wouldn’t have given that phone call a chance if it weren’t for Doctor Kim’s suggestions. His therapist had told him several times that his father had taken an interest in knowing how Jimin was recuperating, that she had spoken to him and that he seemed to have a genuine will to help Jimin. It was hard to believe, it sounded absurd. But Jimin decided to trust.
The phone call happened a few days ago and went unexpectedly well. Even if Jimin’s heart hammered in his chest when he heard Father’s deep voice from the other side of the line, they managed to keep everything civil between them. Jimin’s anxiety didn’t spike up too much and Father didn’t say anything that triggered any intense distress in him. The man wasn’t warm or affectionate in any way, far from it. But Jimin considered it a victory that he wasn’t openly hostile or disdainful. Their conversation was short and it boiled down to only facts and setting up the time his father would be picking him up the day Jimin would be discharged from the clinic. His father then stated that he would be taking him to an apartment, in Seoul, that he owned as one of his investment properties, and that Jimin could live there for the foreseeable future. Jimin had agreed, it wasn’t like he was offered room for discussion or had any other option.
But even so, he was still nervous as he gathered his things, with slightly trembling hands, on an overcast spring morning. There wasn’t much to pack and thus he didn’t have a lot to distract himself until eleven o’clock came around. The last objects he placed into his backpack were some novels Kim Namjoon had lent him and that Jimin needed to give back once he finished reading. Namjoon was also a patient at the clinic, had belonged to the same therapeutic group as Jimin and had been discharged just a few days prior. Jimin had grown to like the intelligent, well-spoken writer and they had many interesting conversations outside of group. When Namjoon left, he gave Jimin his number and told him to contact him when he got out, so they could keep talking. Jimin had been happy that Namjoon expressed a desire to continue to develop their friendship. He also felt relieved to have someone that knew parts of what he went through and could empathize quite well with the terrible experience of being committed due to severe mental illness. Although, in Namjoon’s case, things were different as he had been the one to commit himself due to a major depressive episode and suicidal ideation.
Jimin already said goodbye to everyone at the clinic, be it staff, fellow patients and his doctors, all while knowing full well he will be seeing them very often nonetheless. He will have to come back two times a week for group and his own individual therapy. Things will change, but there will still be some constants in his life, which makes him feel a little less unsure.
He still swallows thickly when he spots his father’s impeccable black Bentley parked just outside the clinic. Still quickly averts his eyes when Father’s rigid figure walks towards him and they briefly nod at each other. Luckily, the apartment where Jimin will be staying is barely ten minutes away, which makes everything more tolerable because, past exchanging a few dry pleasantries when they entered the car, Jimin and his father remain silent the rest of the drive.
They arrive in a quiet neighborhood with a few trees and green spaces surrounding a seven storey building. They go up to the seventh floor and enter a smallish two-bedroom apartment that smells strongly of paint and wood varnish. Father had recently renovated it with the aim of selling it for double the price, but Jimin guesses he ruined his plan. Not that it impacted his finances in any significant way, he knew his father was basically swimming in cash. The rooms are sparsely decorated, only containing the essentials, the walls are bare, all painted white, but there’s plenty of windows and light in each space. After a quick tour, they walk into the living room, Jimin sitting on the black faux-leather couch and father on the matching armchair. There’s a large floor to ceiling window that bathes everything in pale gray light. Jimin stares firmly at his feet, he knows they need to talk, already feels the weight of the words unsaid.
“Jimin.” Father starts, voice echoing strongly in the empty space. “I wanted to speak to you about what happened while you were at my house.”
The cold returns to Jimin’s stomach. Why is Father asking this of him? Doesn’t he know? Why would he make Jimin talk to him about this? Why would he ask him when he’s never really cared about his life before?
“Why?” Jimin asks quietly.
“I tried to find out more information on what caused your condition. On what made it worsen, to the point where you wanted to burn the house down. But your doctors could not provide me with definite answers due to doctor-patient confidentiality. And Jungkook… Jungkook won’t say a word.”
Jimin still doesn’t look up, but his heart starts suddenly thudding in his ribcage at the mention of Jungkook. So his step-brother hasn’t told his parents what he did to Jimin…
“I tried to, uh… Persuade him after he left the hospital, but no matter what I did, or what I told him, he would not tell me what happened that led to your crisis that night. I know he’s hiding something.”
“How would you know he had anything to do with it? I’ve been sick almost all my life.” Jimin answers robotically.
Father leans forward and sighs heavily above his interlocked fingers, before speaking again.
“I’ve known Jungkook since he was three years-old but he has always been a mystery to me. I was never able to understand him, and yet I’ve always known something is deeply wrong with him. Ever since he was a child, he has had a penchant for lying, deceiving, hurting. Of doing everything in his power to get his way. Even in kindergarten he would hit other children but always lied about it, told everyone they’d hurt him first, even when confronted with the truth. When he was about eight or nine I got his mother a kitten for her birthday, but the animal ended up dead not even a week later. Smothered.”
Jimin holds his breath, paralyzed by shock.
“I knew it was him. I knew he suffocated that cat somehow, maybe because he didn’t want his mother’s attention lying elsewhere, maybe because he just wanted to destroy something… And when I beat the truth out of him, he never showed even a hint of remorse. The problems we had with him started tapering out as he got older and better at hiding and lying. But in high school I noticed he had… Inverted tendencies.” Jimin’s father pronounces those words with a disgusted scowl on his face. “Caught him half naked with some boy in his room. Knocked some sense into him right then and there, nothing a black eye couldn’t resolve. He started bringing girls home and behaving like a normal young man again, in that regard. That boy he was with though, wound up threatening to press charges against him a few months later, claiming Jungkook had been hurting and bullying him at school. I never knew the seriousness of what truly happened because my wife took charge of this issue, at Jungkook’s request. They both hid away the details from me and the other boy ended up dropping his claims and switching schools. Since then it’s become harder and harder to catch Jungkook in a lie, I- “
“You beat him up because he was doing stuff with a boy?” Jimin interrupts. He’s nauseated, overwhelmed by all the sudden unwanted information on Jungkook’s past, and yet anger still rears its ugly head at his father mentioning being a violent homophobe so casually. Not that it surprises him in the least. He almost has half a mind to tell him he’s gay, see if he calls him a disgusting fag and punches Jimin square in the face once more. That’s not what he says though. “It seems that’s your solution for everything. Worked really fucking well with me and Mama, didn’t it?”
Jimin expects his father to explode, his face to redden, his fists to curl up, for him to get up in his chair and lash out at Jimin. Waits for him to insult him and tell him to be respectful. But Father just exhales sharply and rakes a hand through his graying hair like he’s frustrated, bitter.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Jimin. The fact is that I was raised in even harsher ways. Your grandparents raised me with an iron fist and I never dared defy them. For a son of mine to be a liar, disobedient or weak was never an option. I couldn’t fathom any of that. I had already let your mother suffocate you, fill your impressionable mind with fears and then take you away. I didn’t take enough action. With Jungkook, I tried to be more present, I tried to do more, so he could learn how to be a man , how to act properly and be honorable. I did it the only way I knew how, the way I was taught to be strong.”
“So you think that justifies hitting my mother for defending her child? You think that justifies pushing, slapping and humiliating your own son for telling the truth about the things he saw, the monsters that haunted him?! Calling me a liar and then not giving a shit about me for years…” Jimin’s tone becomes accusatory, aggression rising with each sentence, even if he still fears retaliation. He wasn’t planning on arguing with his father about the past, wasn’t planning on answering anything at all, but here they are - digging up the past.
“I did what I thought was best!” Father raises his voice, eyes getting wide with sudden anger that he immediately tries to dominate, pressing his lips together in a fine line. “Things with your mother were never easy. We were forced by our families to get married too young, after she got pregnant. We didn’t know each other that well and got thrusted into a marriage that started failing as soon as it started. Your mother had constant mood swings, she believed in nonsense, in spirits, she said she saw things. I’d always been convinced she was lying, that she made up her episodes because they happened, almost always, when we fought. To me, it was a manipulation tactic, a scheme to make me quit our marriage, to force me into a divorce and get half my money. She never tried to make it work between us, and when you were born, she latched onto you with all her might. I could see how you were growing to be exactly like her, have the same weakness and fear. As you grew, I thought you had started lying as well, to manipulate, to get attention. And then she left. I could never, in my life, forgive her for that.”
Father’s words stun Jimin into absolute silence. He can scarcely believe what he’s telling him, this is the most they’ve spoken in Jimin’s entire life and, to his surprise, some things are now starting to make more sense. Father had always been ignorant, had never realized Mama and Jimin were ill, had interpreted his mother’s symptoms wrongly. But Jimin had never stopped to think about Father’s perspective, why he never wanted him to mention his mother, to never say a word about her, especially after her death. Father was wrong about his mother, he was wrong about her wanting his money, Mama divorced him and never asked for a dime, just took Jimin and abandoned him. Father was bitter, he felt like a failure and could never overcome it.
“It- it still doesn’t justify what you’ve done…” He manages to say.
“I believe I wasn’t cut out for parenthood.” Father spits out abruptly, like it hurts his pride to utter the words. “There is nothing to be done about that. But I have now understood that you, like your mother, have a mental illness. I have understood that neither of you were lying about what you saw. I am striving to do what your therapist has suggested… to… communicate.” He adds, grimacing. “It won’t erase anything that happened. It won’t bring your mother back. But perhaps, if I understand better what happened between you and Jungkook, maybe something can be done about it.”
Fuck. Jimin stiffens in his seat. So they’re back to this subject.
“Nothing happened.” He’s quick to deny.
“Now, that is a lie.” Father accuses.
“And how the fuck would you know that?” Jimin fires back, but he’s scared. So very scared.
“I know because I’ve never seen Jungkook like this. He doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t talk to us unless it is to relentlessly ask where you are.”
It hits Jimin like a brick to the face.
“Wh- what do you mean…?”
“He is guilty. We know he cannot stop thinking about what he has done, whatever it is. But I am sure it was very serious. This is the first time I have ever seen him react this way. He won’t leave the house, always staring at the burns he got from the fire, I think he is ashamed of them. He keeps telling us he needs to speak to you, but categorically refuses to reveal what happened. I need to know about it first, and I won’t leave until you tell me, Park Jimin.” his father states stubbornly.
Jimin’s heart rate picks up, he tries to reign himself in but notices his breathing is already getting heavier due to another wave of intrusive anxiety. He can’t tell his father the truth. He would never be able to live through that humiliation, to admit what happened to him to a man who has never deserved Jimin’s trust. And even though Jimin knew that Jungkook would get punished for what he had done, that he would at least get the worst beating he had ever gotten in his life, he can’t bring himself to say it. But he has to give his father something. Something that will placate him. A half-truth. His brain struggles to function through all the nerve-wrecking distress and yet Jimin finally manages to speak. He will just tell him a similar version he gave to his own therapist.
“He… He lied to me. He told me he also heard monsters and voices in the house, after I showed up. He went along with my delusions, never told me Mama was gone, even when I talked about her like she was alive. I- I guess he liked playing with my head, with my emotions… He had fun seeing me lose my mind.” Jimin finishes, looking down dejectedly.
Another harsh, long exhale from Father and the sound of him leaning back in the armchair.
“Nothing else?” The man asks, with an arched skeptical eyebrow.
Jimin meets his gaze and shakes his head. Father's jaw is set rigidly, he seems deep in thought for a few tense seconds.
“Would it be in any way beneficial if you met up with Jungkook? Perhaps it would be helpful if he shows his remorse and apologizes to you directly.”
All color drains from Jimin’s face when he hears this. Meeting Jungkook? No, no, no, he can’t! An image of the boy’s face swims in his troubled mind and Jimin closes his eyes, gasping like he’s in pain. Jimin doesn’t think he could ever be in a mental state where seeing Jungkook wouldn’t completely devastate him. To look into the eyes of someone who lied, manipulated and violated him in the most horrid and sadistic of ways. Even if his step-brother wanted to repent, even if he asked Jimin for forgiveness… Would it matter? Nothing would change, and Jimin would still be left with his wounds and his scars. By speaking to Jungkook, Jimin would be serving no one but his step-brother, it would permit him to have some sort of closure, and Jimin guesses he is undeserving of that.
But there is something beyond that bone-deep fear of coming face-to-face with his abuser. The terrifying realization that there is still a part of him that would like to see Jungkook, that still longs for something he gave him, even if it was wrong, even if it was cruel. And that is the part that Jimin has been fighting tooth and nail, the part he will keep fighting for a very, very long time.
He can’t allow himself to see him. Not now. Not ever.
“No.” Jimin answers and surprisingly his voice doesn’t tremble.
“Are you certain?” Father asks, taken aback by Jimin’s assertiveness.
“Yes. I don’t think it would help me to see him again, even if he apologizes.”
Father hums pensievely.
“Would you like me to deliver any message to Jungkook from your part?”
Jimin considers his words once more. He almost says no again, but refrains from it as he thinks about it more carefully, heart still racing, gut twisting painfully. He doesn’t think he could ever tell Jungkook he has forgiven him, because Jimin doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to, if Jungkook could ever deserve forgiveness. What he did was monstrous and Jimin thinks it is only right he has to live with that guilt, to bear those burns as reminders of what he has done, for life. Does Jimin want to say anything to him? Does he want to convey anything to him? Or does he want to leave him in the dark forever?
“Just… Just tell him I am moving on with my life.” Jimin whispers. “Tell him I don’t want to see or hear from him ever again.”
“I see.” Father answers quietly, regarding Jimin with solemn apprehension.
Maybe this will be the best way. He’s not giving Jungkook the satisfaction of accepting or rejecting an apology, he’s not giving him the opportunity to even ask to be forgiven. He is completely disconnecting from him, he is expunging him from his life and letting him know that he won’t care anymore in the future, even though Jimin knows he will never be able to forget. Jungkook won’t get to see him, won’t get to know he affects him - yes, maybe this would be enough. A small comfort for Jimin.
“Well…” Father sighs wearily. “There’s no reason for me to stay any longer. You have everything you need, for now. I assume you are growing tired of being in my presence and I have business to attend to in Busan.”
Jimin nods curtly. Father is harsh and direct as ever.
“Fair enough. I will send one of my interns at once, to assist you with settling down over the next few weeks.” Father stands up, brushing away the wrinkles from his trousers.
Jimin gets up and follows him out of the living room. Once they’re at the front door, Father faces him again.
“My contact is in the new phone I provided you. Though I think it won’t be necessary with the aid you’ll be getting.”
Father is back to his cold and distant demeanor. Jimin doesn’t know how to feel, but he has always been used to this kind of treatment. It’s naive to think anything very significant has changed or will ever change between him and Father. The man is probably doing all this to appease his own guilty conscience from never having noticed Jimin’s illness and condemning and mistreating him for it.
“Of course. Goodbye, Father.” Jimin says flatly.
“Goodbye.” Father responds, extending his hand for them to exchange the world’s shortest and most awkward handshake.
With one hand on the doorknob and his back to him, Father stills unexpectedly.
“One more thing. Your mother’s grave is at the Manguri Memorial Park.”
Jimin’s eyes immediately start to sting and he can’t meet Father’s gaze as he looks towards him and speaks again.
“You should go visit her.”
When the door closes, so does Jimin’s heart.
-
It gets better eventually. Life.
Two more months have gone by since Jimin was discharged and he does feel different, a little more secure, a little more independent. Most days at least, there are others when nearly everything goes to shit. Days where Jimin wakes up only feeling the dark void of loss, others where he temporarily forgets his mother is no longer here. Those moments hurt the most, when he’s going about his day and he briefly thinks “oh, I should tell Mama about this!” only to be struck with the reality of her death and all the horror that surrounded it. And that usually leads to him also remembering what Jungkook had done to him, which in turn makes everything even more painful.
But though Jimin still struggles with his trauma, though he still suffers and aches and mourns. Though he feels lonely and abandoned, he still tries his best to grab onto what he does have. He latches onto what he can to try and cope with his crippling depressive thoughts, his insecurity and sometimes, his looming paranoia and self-destructive tendencies. It’s a fact that he’ll carry his mental illness for life, that he’ll have to take medication until the end of his days. But if that manages to keep the hallucinations at bay, that is exactly what he’ll do, no questions asked. It’s not a guarantee, no one can completely assure him the monsters won’t resurface under the “right” stressors and that is a deeply disturbing thought, one that sometimes keeps Jimin awake at night.
But, for now, he just keeps going. With the help of Father’s bubbly intern, Jimin managed to turn his cold, empty apartment into a cozy home, decorated in soft neutrals and earthy tones. Potted plants and quite a collection of books in his sunny living room, too many fluffy pillows on his bed, but Jimin loves it.
He was also able to get a nice, stress-free job at a local library to support himself and stop relying too much on Father, financially speaking. He doesn’t want to be dependent for too long and wants to gradually pay his father back for everything he purchased for his home. Step by step, Jimin wants to make his own way.
Jimin keeps going to therapy, both group and individual and was eventually able to muster the courage to tell Doctor Kim about what truly happened between him and Jungkook. That has been a whole whirlwind of emotions in itself, but he’s proud he managed to open up. He still hasn’t been able to bring himself to go visit Mama’s grave, he is too scared of the finality that might bring him and he doesn’t feel capable of facing it.
Jimin also hangs out a lot with Kim Namjoon. They go to art museums, they ride bicycles and have expensive coffee at slightly snobby coffee-shops. Namjoon is funny, smart, a fast-talker, an intellectual and sometimes Jimin feels like he’s lacking in the “brains” department, but is always soothed by his friend’s goofy, naive side. There’s an almost child-like quality to Namjoon’s personality that keeps drawing Jimin in, keeps captivating him.
They click, they’re good for each other, they lift each other up but also understand their darkest sides. Jimin has a friend and he’s glad.
But having a true friendship has been reminding him of something. Someone.
Kim Taehyung.
Jimin remembers the day it all went wrong like it was yesterday, the memory irrevocably engraved in his mind. He was eighteen and it happened towards the middle of the second semester of his 12th grade. Jimin was a mess at that time. He had a shitty part-time job at a Chinese restaurant, cleaning every grimy surface and washing the dishes, making pennies to be able to help support Mama and himself. He barely had time to study for the CSAT, much less to sleep, and yet, Jimin still desperately wanted to find an oasis in the hectic hours of everyday life to be with him .
Jimin had been friends with Kim Taehyung for five years. Best friends. Soulmates, as Taehyung liked to correct. And every time he did, everytime Jimin heard the word ‘soulmate’ his heart squeezed in his chest, stomach fluttering strangely. It took him a while to understand that that wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right .
Taehyung had been the one showing Jimin what “sex” was, by introducing him to porn when they were thirteen. He stopped sneakily showing Jimin those indecent videos in secluded corners of study rooms, when they both entered high school and Taehyung swapped this practice for actually chasing girls, quite actively. He’d had his first girlfriend in 7th grade, but it didn’t last long and Taehyung had concluded that girls were stupid and he couldn’t be bothered with them.
Well, that all changed in 10th grade. Hormones raging, Taehyung began serial-dating, much to Jimin’s dismay, as he had to be a third-wheel more times than he’d like. Taehyung started to get less frantic and more selective with his flings in 11th grade, but that didn’t exactly relieve Jimin. Instead he started experiencing a feeling he could only compare to envy when he saw Taehyung kissing a pretty girl. At first, Jimin gathered he also wanted to kiss a girl, even though he was scared Mama would find out, even though he felt guilty about it. That was what he was supposed to feel, as a boy. That was what he practically convinced himself he felt, resolutely ignoring all the times his eyes were attracted by other boys’ biceps or thighs in the locker room after PE class. No, a girl’s soft curves were definitely prettier than a man’s hard, angular body. And no, Jimin didn’t think Taehyung’s golden skin, broad shoulders and boxy smile were more attractive than his female classmates’ dainty figures and red, glossy lips.
Jimin’s self-deception didn’t last long though. At sixteen he had to shamefully admit to himself he found boys attractive, that maybe he only liked boys. But then, why hadn’t the weird feelings involving seeing his best friend with girls stopped? That, he only let himself figure out the following school year, after Taehyung started seeing Hayoon, whom he dated pretty seriously, for most of the first semester of their 12th grade.
Jimin saw everything. Saw them falling in love right before his very eyes, with something akin to dread twisting and turning in his stomach. When they exchanged lovesick gazes, Jimin felt himself losing some kind of weird hope. When they held hands Jimin had to immediately look away. When they kissed on the lips, slow and sweet, Jimin felt jealous . Violently, overwhelmingly jealous. Because then he knew, he realized it.
He wanted to be in Hayoon’s place.
Jimin wanted to be held tight in Taehyung’s strong arms, he wanted to be kissed like that, to meld into him, for them to become one. And that was as scary as the monsters that terrorized him at home. It was dirty, it was wrong and it could never, ever happen.
So he had to endure it. To give tight lipped smiles to the smitten couple, to roll his eyes in pretend-frustration when they were too lovey-dovey, to listen to Taehyung gushing on about Hayoon like she hung the fucking moon and stars in the night sky. Jimin was there for it all. And maybe it would’ve been easier if Taehyung had allowed Jimin to slip away, if he had distanced himself - but he never did. He was still as loyal a best friend as ever. Always made time for Jimin, always found ways for them to be together.
There was no escaping his feelings.
There was also no escaping hearing Taehyung talking about his first time with excited hushed whispers. How good it had felt to be inside Hayoon, how he had managed to make her orgasm even when most guys struggle with giving girls pleasure on their first times, how he wanted to do it all the time and that he was falling even deeper for her.
And all that time Jimin had been internally screaming in agony.
Why can’t it be me?
Why can’t you do all those things to me?
Why can’t I have you inside me?
Why don’t you love only me?
Taehyung had vowed his relationship to last forever. Who would’ve thought forever was only one more month.
After Hayoon and Taehyung broke up over some childish irrational jealousy Taehyung had towards Hayoon’s male best friend, Jimin was always by his side as he licked his wounds. Jimin held Taehyung close, hiding in bathrooms as the boy cried in his arms. Sometimes he cried with him too, though he never told him his real reasons. Taehyung didn’t know Jimin was in love with him when he let his tears flow without any restraint. He just told him it was about being worried for his mother, or being stressed because of school, studying, work… He felt dirty hiding something this monumental from his soulmate, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. And it wasn’t like it was the only thing Jimin hid from him, as he’d never told him about the monsters or the way his mother behaved when “possessed” by them. Jimin was no stranger to lying by omission.
As weeks passed, Taehyung got better and by the time it happened, his best friend had been single for almost three months.
The day Jimin would never forget had started like any other. With them meeting at the school gates, walking into class together and taking their seats well away from each other, because teachers had learned long ago Taehyung could not shut up one second when he sat next to Jimin. They spent recess together, lunchtime and after they were done with their afternoon classes, they scurried off to their favorite shitty study room that no one tended to choose because it had the most terrible, uncomfortable chairs and slow computers. Taehyung and Jimin sat side by side, taking their books out, pretending they were going to study when they perfectly knew they were just going to be chit chatting the entire time, until Jimin would have to run home to give Mama a kiss, change into his work uniform and head out to the restaurant.
But Jimin noticed that, that day, as several other days over the past couple of weeks, Taehyung was a little different with him. Even softer, even lovelier, even warmer. It seemed like there was a unique sparkle in his beautiful eyes that was only ever directed at Jimin. Jimin’s hands trembled as he opened his notebook and turned towards Taehyung, catching a whiff of the woody creaminess of his sandalwood cologne. It made him go weak in the knees and he thanked some non-existent god he was sitting down, because the way Taehyung was staring at him intently was nothing short of purely adoring.
“Jimin-ah…” He drawled in his deep, velvety voice. “I know I’ve already thanked you for having my back after my breakup with Hayoon. But I’m starting to feel like… Like I’m really glad we broke up? It’s crazy because a month ago I still felt like I was going to die from not being with her. But now… Now, I’m glad I don’t have to divide my time between my girlfriend and my best friend.”
“Oh.” Jimin felt all his blood rushing to his face and tried to control his expression as best as he could. “You’re saying that, but wait until you start getting all horny and craving having a girlfriend again.” Jimin giggled, pretending to take this lightheartedly.
“What are you talking about, I’m always horny.” Taehyung scoffed and drew closer, their thighs touching under the table as he looped an arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “All I’m saying is that I like the time we spend together. You know? Just the two of us.”
Jimin giggled again, but the sound came out weaker, more anxious than anything.
“Why are you saying this? Are you sick by any chance? Are you trying to get me to do something for you? Wait! Did you steal all my jellies in secret again?!” Jimin gasped, wanting to turn around and check his bag to see if Taehyung had eaten his candy.
The arm around his shoulders wouldn’t let him move an inch though.
“Aish, I’m serious!” Taehyung scolded, bringing Jimin even closer and turning him to face him.
In this position they were in, their foreheads were almost touching and Jimin could see all of Taehyung’s small pores and little freckles. And it was fucking with his head majorly.
“What’s gotten into you…?” Jimin asked. Quiet, careful. All the playfulness gone from his tone.
“Nothing has gotten into me. Why would it?”
“You’re acting different, is all…”
“I’m not. Why? Do you think it’s weird? Is it that weird that I like being close to you? Like this?” Taehyung asked with sudden softness, one hand smoothly sliding over the desk to rest over Jimin’s own. “Mmh?”
“No…”
“Then don’t question it.”
And Jimin must have been insane because he swore Taehyung’s eyes dropped to his lips.
He must have been truly mad because he did one of the stupidest things he has ever done in his entire life.
Jimin surged forward and connected his lips to Taehyung’s in a sweet, warm kiss that lasted no more than five seconds, but tilted the entire world off its axis. When Jimin pulled back, he saw Taehyung with wide, round eyes and slightly parted lips, a flush spreading on his cheeks.
Fuck he really did fuck it up, didn’t he?
“S- sorry- I- “ Jimin stuttered dejectedly, already full on panicking at what he had done.
And then he felt a large hand pulling him forward and his lips melted into Taehyung’s impossibly soft ones once more.
Oh… So, this is how it feels. Jimin thought. This is how it feels to kiss the person you love.
Jimin leaned into it, tilted his head, parted his lips and licked into Taehyung’s mouth like he never wanted to leave, like he wanted to make a home in their kiss.
It was pure elation running through his veins, goosebumps raising on his skin, breaths getting sharper and shorter, hands seeking more warmth, more skin, just more.
He was so in love, so lost in the moment that he actually moaned into the kiss, opening wider and brushing his tongue against Taehyung’s with little finesse but a hefty dose of impulsive lewdness.
That’s when it stopped.
Jimin was pushed back abruptly, with such harshness he almost lost balance and needed to hang on to the edge of the desk.
“Uh… I- Uhmm…” Taehyung stammered, a hand hovering in the air like he’d been burned and the other just over his lips, hiding them. “‘M sorry… I think I should go.”
He looked scared, disgusted.
Of course. Jimin should have known Taehyung would hate kissing him, how could he have done this? Jimin watched silently as his best friend in the world couldn't bear to meet his eyes while he threw things into his backpack and left with hurried steps without another word to Jimin.
Jimin was left with a cracked heart and regret flooding his mind.
Alone, once again.
They avoided each other for three entire days before Taehyung awkwardly asked Jimin if they could talk. They headed to their study room after class, Jimin flushing at the memories of what had happened the last time they were there and simultaneously dreading what Taehyung was going to tell him.
“I- I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day.” Taehyung went straight to the point, looking uncomfortable but keeping his gaze fixed on Jimin.
“Okay…” Jimin mumbles, averting his eyes.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Jimin flinched at the direct question, settling on shrugging weakly, still avoiding eye contact. What could he answer to that? It wasn’t like he was going to admit his feelings. That could never work, he thought as Taehyung’s disgusted expression flashed through his mind.
“Did you want to try it? Was it because you’d never kissed anyone before?”
Jimin looked up to see Taehyung’s confused expression, head tilted to the side scanning Jimin’s face, brows slightly furrowed.
Ah. Maybe Taehyung had just given him a way out with this approach. So he took it and nodded slowly. Taehyung’s brows furrowed deeper.
“Oh… Uh- you could’ve told me you were curious about it, so I could’ve helped you find a girl. So that you wouldn’t have to kiss me.”
“Yeah, I- I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly. Sorry…”
“‘S fine. I just… Don’t want it to be awkward between us, you know?”
Jimin nodded again but he still had a question burning on the tip of his tongue.
“Mmh. Why did you kiss me back though?” He asked before he could stop himself.
Taehyung seemed taken aback by Jimin’s question, blinking fast and licking his lips nervously.
“I just didn’t want you to feel bad about it. I only wanted to give you a good first kiss and not make it weird. But then it did get strange and that’s why I left like that. It was too much for me.”
Fuck. Jimin had been the one to make it strange. And by strange Jimin was sure Taehyung meant repulsive, due to the kiss having become too sexually charged. Jimin’s brain worked quickly to search for a response and to avoid feeling the pain of rejection at that moment. This was self-preservation and he needed to deflect, deflect, deflect.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a spur of the moment thing… It was nothing…”
Jimin looked away from Taehyung again and failed to see the hurt that flashed fleetingly in his eyes. It was silent for a couple of tense seconds until Taehyung cleared his throat.
“So, we’ll just forget about it.” Taehyung said hoarsely. “Nothing changes between us.”
Forget. The word slashed at Jimin’s heart unforgivingly, all too aware he would never be able to forget the way Taehyung’s lips have felt against his, nor his rejection.
“Yeah. Let’s just go on like it never happened.” Jimin agrees quietly.
“M-hmm. Uhm… Do you- do you wanna study a bit? I really need to reread my Chemistry notes before the test.” Taehyung asked, quickly shifting the subject to something safe. God, he really must’ve been revolted by that kiss, Jimin had never felt so ashamed and small in his life.
“Of course. I’ll also read them before I head to work.”
And that was that. That was the first time they didn’t talk and played around, instead of studying after class. For the first time, they were just quiet. Jimin’s eyes were glued to the notebook before him but he couldn’t read a word due to the tears that kept blurring his vision.
For the first time there was just empty silence between them.
Everything changed.
After that talk, Jimin never managed to be the same again with Taehyung. They grew distant emotionally, and eventually Jimin started to avoid being alone with Taehyung, alleging that his boss had given him more hours working at the restaurant. And his friend’s eyes were sad, they were always sad but he never opposed that distance, never looked for Jimin or fought for him.
That kiss had defeated them.
Once they graduated, they never spoke again and though it broke Jimin’s heart and it made him lose the little scrap of hope he still had in friendships and romantic love, he knew he had no time to think about any of it. He had his mother to take care of. She was the only important person in his life and it should remain that way. He could never dwell on his unrequited love, on the loss of his best friend, on the rejection…
None of that truly matters when one is in survival mode.
-
“Yah, why are you moping around again?” Namjoon calls out, taking a loud slurp of his tall iced americano as he peers at Jimin.
Jimin startles at that. He’d been looking out the window, taking tiny sips of his matcha smoothie sporadically, lost in thought.
“Still thinking about that friend of yours?” The other boy presses on, leaning forward to better inspect Jimin’s expression.
They’re both sitting at a Starbucks and it’s obscenely hot outside, so they’re thankful for the air conditioning blasting inside the space. After a lot of internal turmoil, and prompted by Namjoon revealing to him, very nonchalantly, that he’s bisexual, Jimin came out to him and told him everything that had transpired between him and Taehyung.
“Uh… No?” Jimin answers unconfidently.
“You totally are, aren’t you? Have you looked for his Instagram like I suggested like… A million times?”
“I have, but I can’t find it. You know I’m not good at these things.” Jimin dodges.
“I’ll do it for you then.” Namjoon says, taking his phone and tapping away at it, looking quite determined.
“You don’t have to, hyung. Maybe he doesn’t even have one and- “
“What’re you talking about? Everyone has an Ins- aaand here it is!” Namjoon exclaims excitedly, shoving his phone screen right under Jimin’s nose. “It’s him right?”
Jimin’s eyes widen as he’s confronted with a user called “kth_95” that has a profile picture of a striking boy wearing the brightest rectangular smile and dark brown hair falling in soft waves a little over his eyes. He looks older and even more impossibly handsome.
“Yeah… That’s him.” Jimin nods, swallowing dryly.
“Just send him a message Jimin-ah. It’s been years, I bet he also regrets that your friendship ended the way it did. I’m sure he’d love to start talking to you again.” Namjoon says, putting a reassuring hand on Jimin’s shoulder.
It makes him sigh and start chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. Jimin isn’t sure Taehyung would like that, he isn’t certain he would even answer him. He placates Namjoon telling him he would think about it and immediately changes the subject to a book he has been reading, which works like a charm every time he wants to distract his hyung.
The thoughts of Taehyung don’t leave him when he arrives home though. And when he finds himself pressing send after writing a short message to the boy that used to be his best and only friend in the world, Jimin feels both afraid and strangely proud of himself.
That took courage. And if Jimin could muster the courage to face this, maybe he can also use it to do something he has been running away from for months.
Perhaps now he can gather the strength to go see Mama.
-
Manguri Park is beautiful in the summer.
The trees are verdant and tall, a mix of majestic oaks, pines and maples surrounding the walking trails that cross the park. If Jimin just looked up at the trees he could fool himself into thinking he is just taking a hike in a forest… But he is not. Because in the earth beneath his feet lie hundreds of decomposing corpses.
Manguri Park is a cemetery.
Manguri Park has become his Mama’s home.
So Jimin walks. Feeling uncharacteristically cold under the July sun, he drags his heavy feet to meet her. The bouquet he carries in his sweaty hand weighs him down, like the flowers are made of lead instead of airy, dainty petals and leaves. Every step is arduous, every tombstone he passes makes his heartbeat more erratic.
He fears it and yearns for it - seeing her name.
He walks and walks. Little leaves and twigs snapping under the soles of his shoes, birds chirping in the trees oblivious to his pain. He walks some more.
Jimin walks until he finds her. Her presence announced by letters engraved onto polished dark gray marble.
Park Jihyeon, beloved mother.
May your soul rest in peace.
She is here. She is buried underneath this insignificant layer of earth and vegetation, enshrouded by a wooden casket, being consumed by nature day by day. It’s her, that’s her name on the headstone. This is real. The inescapable truth is right before his eyes. A truth he already rationally knew of, but truly coming face to face with it still crushes Jimin.
Mama is dead.
But Jimin’s heart beats strong and alive for them both, even if his legs tremble and he kneels down in front of her headstone because he can barely hold himself up anymore. He places the bouquet of white chrysanthemums leaning it against the gravestone and stares at his mother’s name with tears burning the corners of his eyes.
Jimin breathes in the green, earthy morning air, inhaling deeply to steady himself.
And then he speaks.
“Hi, Mama… I’m here.” Jimin whispers softly, voice brimming with emotion. “I know, it took me so long.” He chuckles tremulously and sniffles before continuing. “To be honest with you, I was avoiding it… coming to see you. I think I was scared of seeing it with my own eyes. That- that you’re really gone.”
Jimin’s voice cracks and he looks up at the sky, trying to keep the tears from falling to no avail. They’re already tracing warm trails down his cheeks.
“But I’m not running away anymore. I don’t know if you can hear me, you probably can’t, I just- I just need to talk to you for a bit.” Jimin pauses briefly with a sigh. “You know… When I learned you were gone, I thought I wouldn’t be able to come back from it, I thought I was going to lose my mind forever. And when I realized there were no monsters, that you- that we were just sick… Just- the memories, all the b- bad ones came rushing in and- and I really wanted everything to just stop, to disappear.”
Jimin sniffles and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“And I blamed myself for what happened that night, the night you passed away… I wanted to save you… Sometimes I still have nightmares about it and- “
He silences himself pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes. Images of his mother’s skeleton being consumed by a raging inferno flash under his closed eyelids and Jimin forces them away from his conscience, summoning all his willpower.
“But I’ve been doing better these days. I’ve had a lot of help. Father kept his promise to you… You never told me that you asked him to take care of me in case something happened to you. I think you’d be happy to know he kept his word. I’ve been taking my meds every day, going to therapy… You know, I have a really good therapist… I got a job… I’ve made a friend while I was at the clinic and we’ve been hanging out a lot, and- and I’m even meeting Kim Taehyung tomorrow. I was really nervous but I reached out to him and he seemed pretty happy about it… Hmmm…”
Jimin hesitates, looking down at the ground before speaking again.
“I never got to tell you this… But… I like boys, Mama. I wonder what you’d say to me if you were here, I wonder if you’d be surprised… You were always so jealous of other people in my life, about the possibility of being replaced by anyone. But I think that- that if you were alive, that if you got treatment for your illness you wouldn’t be jealous anymore, you’d be happy for me. Right?”
A wave of fresh tears fills Jimin’s eyes once more.
“I wish none of it happened, I wish I had known you were just sick, so that I could help you get rid of those voices in your head. If only I knew better, If I’d seen the signs, if I was smarter…”
A small sob leaves Jimin’s lips. The sadness is overwhelming him and yet he can see that he’s getting stuck in a loop that doesn’t help him in any way. Entangling himself in hypothetical scenarios will only drag him back into a depressive state, looking to place the blame either on himself or his mother in an exhausting cycle of misery. Jimin shakes his head and tries to get himself together again, he must be strong.
“Anyway… I’ve been learning it’s best not to dwell on all these what if’s . I’ve been trying to think of the past in a way that lets me acknowledge the things that went wrong, that hurt me, but that also allows me to let go of that pain, and not relive it over and over in the present. I want the past to flow by like a calm river. That’s what I’m trying to do, but it’s so hard… Sometimes I feel like I’m just a little kid trying to be an adult, I ask myself if I’ll ever feel whole… It wasn’t just what happened with you. There was a boy that hurt me, too. J- Jungkook…” a shaky exhale escapes him. “I don’t want to explain everything he did to me, I don’t want you to worry… But he took advantage of me, he used me in terrible ways when I was at my most fragile state. And at some point I wanted him to, I wanted to be… His. I wanted him so bad I could barely think of anything else. I think he wanted me too, I think it was messing with his head, too…“
‘Jimin… You make me fucking crazy.I feel like I’m gonna go insane if I don’t have you whenever the fuck I want. Fucking need you…’
Jimin shivers, remembering the words Jungkook had whispered against his lips the last time they had sex, how desired he felt, how unhinged it all was. He also recalls how his step-brother had been quick to change his attitude towards him, deathly afraid Father would find out what they had been doing.
“Father hit Jungkook for liking boys, basically forced him to be straight. To be honest, it seemed like Father hit him a lot while he was growing up and he always had to lie and hide who he was. In a way, Jungkook was sick, too. Not like us, but it made him angry enough to become someone who wants to control and destroy… I think he regrets what he did to me, though. I think he should have to live with that guilt… And looking back, even if I sense he was starting to feel… Something- something more… I realize now it could never become what I want… Love. I think- I think I would like to be loved by someone, Mama. Someday… I wish that I can get better, enough to know how to recognize what being truly loved is. To belong to someone, but not being owned by that person… I want to be hopeful about that.”
At that moment a beautiful yellow butterfly flies gracefully around Jimin before it settles on top of the flowers he had laid before his mother’s grave. Jimin watches it for a moment and leans back, putting his palms on the earth and looking around at the swaying trees that surround him.
“This reminds me of the old days when we went to the park, just the two of us. Don’t you miss it? Those were my happiest memories, Mama. When I was a child and you wore all those pretty sundresses and we went everywhere together… You even watched all those silly cartoons I liked with me.”
Jimin smiles fondly, looking at his mother’s headstone again. He can practically conjure up a full image of his mother from those days. Beautiful blonde hair shining in the sunlight, a white and yellow sundress flowing gracefully with every movement she made, full lips and rosy cheeks that looked just like Jimin’s.
“I want to remember you that way. Still full of life, your golden hair in braids and your laughter that sounds like mine. Our hair isn’t the same anymore though, Mama.” Jimin giggles, swiping a hand through his black locks. “I cut the last blonde bits out and… I don’t know, I think it makes me feel more like myself right now.”
After saying those words, Jimin smiles, a little sadly. There is a shadow of guilt that appears after he’d said that, like demarcating his differences and his self from his mother could somewhat be hurtful to her. But he knows it has to be this way, he needs to grow to become more like himself.
“Well… I think it’s time to go.” Jimin says gently, rising to his feet.
He stands before her grave again and extends a hand, tracing the cold, smooth surface, caressing it affectionately.
“I guess what I wanted to say is… Is that I miss you, that I love you and that… Th- that I forgive you. I forgive you.”
Jimin lowers his head and lets the tears spring to his eyes again. Tears of sadness, joy and yearning, he allows himself to feel everything in full.
“Goodbye, Mama.”
Just as he whispers his farewell, the butterfly flies upward and Jimin’s eyes follow how it soars, yellow wings fluttering prettily against the cerulean sky.
He takes another deep breath and turns away slowly, heading towards the path that has lead him here.
So Jimin walks. But now he’s not cold and now he’s not heavy. Now every step turns lighter, and his heart settles.
His fears are still there, but so is his courage.
He walks and walks. The forest brimming with life, even among the graves of those who already departed. He walks some more.
Jimin walks until he’s flooded with bright, colorful thoughts.
Life isn’t black and white. Happiness may be cruel, a lie we tell ourselves to shield us from pain. And sadness can be beautiful, color our world with inescapable truths. Teach us strength, to endure, to mourn.
Mourning doesn’t have to be gray, and we don’t only mourn the dead.
We mourn parts of ourselves, we mourn the illusory ideas we had of someone important, we mourn our shattered dreams.
We mourn so we can make space. To heal. To hope.
And Jimin hopes he can get to know all of the shades and hues within him. To know all the colors of life in all their radiant richness.
He has always known how to survive, but now…
Now, Jimin will learn how to live.