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Painting murals onto bodies was the job of emotion. Jimin remembered that he could see the artworks it made of people, filtered through plain brown eyes. The symptoms came on fast - singular shades at first, then the blending which came later on.
The first colour he recognised as a kid was this soft cherry red - the outline of the teacher’s rubber stamp on an assignment, the colour he saw when his mother got annoyed at him. He couldn’t remember what subject it was.
All the novelty of the surprise wore off after a while. He could look back on it and smile, listening to his mother talk to him over the telephone. She probably kept the piece of paper somewhere.
There were confusing trends in the way these things occurred, even though they were nice to look at on the surface. Some types of variants blurred together like a thermal signature map. He could see the shape of it growing in light that came from a person.
And for that, Jimin walked home.
But Seokjin had other ideas for him.
They always met in the supermarket, aligning grocery schedules for an outing. It was the only thing still holding them together at this point.
Seokjin was pushing a trolley today, largely empty save for a few bags of fruit already weighed and bundled up.
“Jimin-ssi.” He was grinning, broad and simple. “I think Hoseok’s coming today. He called me yesterday.”
“Something finally stopped holding him up?”
“How’d you know,” Seokjin rested his arms on the trolley handle, looking amused. “Yeah, he’s off the weekend roster.”
“Permanently.”
“Don’t know.” Seokjin shrugged. “We change things up a bit sometimes. I mean, he’s technically not really one of our kind. But you still gotta be on the lookout for potentials, you understand?”
“Okay.”
Seokjin pushed his trolley a short distance away, stared at a basket of glossy capsicums.
“How long is it gonna take?” Jimin propped his basket up against a shelf. The glow was green, pulsating with grey – something pretty neutral.
“We said ten in the morning.” Seokjin frowned. “Ten, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Seulgi should be in the carpark by now. She’d better be.”
Hoseok and Seulgi turned up at the same time. Seulgi had her pickup keys clenched in one hand, the other one frantically pushing a trolley.
They were pale orange, yellow, anticipating. Jimin watched her try to jostle with the people near the front. Hoseok caught up as she approached.
“You know what they said about weekend crowds here?” she breathed, cheeks pink. “It’s bad. It’s bad, I tell you.”
Hoseok shook his head, blue glasses glinting in the light.
“Coincidental of you to choose this place on a weekend, hyung.” He wiped his hands down on his blue polo. “I haven’t come along for a while and this is what I see in the morning.”
“Then you should have come earlier.”
“It was a long ride.”
“So,” Seokjin said, looking at him dubiously, “how was your week?”
“You ask us the same thing every time.” Seulgi put a bag of apples into her basket.
“At least I bother to.”
Hoseok shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “How was yours?”
“What do you think?”
“That there’s a reason why you don’t talk about it?” Seulgi glared at Hoseok. “Come on.”
“He won’t ever tell us why.” They lapsed into silence.
“You know what,” Seokjin said, turning in the other direction. “Let’s just get on with this.” Hoseok trailed off after him.
Seulgi exhaled heavily, looking down at Jimin’s empty basket.
Seokjin was bent over, pushing the trolley while folding his arms across the handlebar. They disappeared into the next aisle.
“Do you eat much?” Seulgi suddenly asked, curious. “You never take anything from there.” She pointed at the vegetable tray, all the gauzy tips poking out of plastic wrappers, green and healthy.
They were only mutual friends, knew each other through this – Seokjin’s little club for, what, societal dropouts?
Jimin chewed on the inside of his cheek. She stood there, waiting.
“Does canned food count?”
Seokjin was looking at a pack of chocolate. The person at the PA system was calling for a staff to be deployed to Counter 5.
“30% off,” Seokjin was saying. “It’s still expensive. Should I get it?”
Nobody replied. They were looking through the shelves, hunting for their own things. Jimin heard Hoseok rustling a plastic package. He came up to him, dropped it in his basket. “Help me,” he said. “I didn’t get a basket.”
“Guys,” Seulgi said. She came over. “Anyone wants milk? There’s an offer, but you gotta buy, like, three cartons to get one free.”
“I’ll take one,” Hoseok called, from where he was standing.
Seulgi turned to the rest of them, waiting. A lady walked past, teetering in her oversized beige dress and heels. She was red, blazing red. Jimin wondered what happened.
“Just buy one for everyone,” Seokjin finally said, putting the chocolate into the trolley.
Jimin stood in front of the candy counter, with all those tri-coloured gummies and sticky lollipops. He folded the striped paper bag back and forth between his hands.
“Get something normal, for once,” Hoseok had reminded him.
He took the plastic scoop, hesitated over liquorice, before deciding on jelly beans. He levelled out a spoonful, tipping it into the bag.
Someone bumped into his arm. Jimin saw the lid of the next container rising and turned around.
Shirt, jeans, a pair of shoes moving over a frame in the shape of a person. He’d heard of them before, but people never really knew if they were there. The invisible ones.
Whoever it was, they were grey, just a tiny glow in a body of transparency. Jimin closed the lid of the box and put the spoon back into the holder.
He looked back, once, as he walked away. The grey glow had disappeared.
They were crowded at the self-checkout by noon. Hoseok was sweating, even in the air- conditioned building.
“This meeting’s already getting boring, hyung,” he grumbled.
Seokjin didn’t say anything. They had been wandering inside for five hours.
“Now you know why he doesn’t come,” Seulgi murmured, sliding her card across the machine. Seokjin looked like he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t.
"I never said shopping was fun," he said, fidgeting with the promotional sticker on the handle of the pushcart, "you're the one we have to put up with, anyway."
Jimin blew out his cheeks, looked around the supermarket. In the corner, a girl was moving her fingers over the fresh flowers. The petals unfurled, frozen roses and forget-me-nots rising from buds of bouquets still in bloom.
“Hyung,” Jimin was saying, later, after he got into the bus. The air inside was sultry with summer heat, smelled potently of the spicy takeaway of the schoolkid standing next to him.
Seokjin had this look on his face, the smoulder of someone deep in thought, masking any and all emotion. He rubbed his fingers against the plastic bag handle.
“Shoot away,” was all Seokjin said.
“You know about invisible people, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I saw one, today.”
"I know they're elusive." Seokjin continued to look out of the window. “But it's nothing new.”
“There was colour.”
A long pause. “So?”
“Isn’t there something wrong? Remember? I can’t see their emotions.”
Seokjin was silent. His eyes caught the sunlight just as the bus rounded a corner turn, and then he suddenly understood.
“Ah," he let out, almost a heavy sigh. "I know what you're getting at.”
“So, a potential candidate?”
Seokjin grinned. “You know our criteria, right? No –”
“- Yeah, yeah.”
“Then go find him.”
Jimin came back the next week with nothing to report. Seokjin had told the other two about the discovery, apparently.
“Who exactly are you looking for?” Seulgi asked, playing with the display lights above the fruit counter.
Hoseok stared at her. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
Jimin watched the flickering, fast and almost imperceptible.
“Looks like the thing’s busted,” Hoseok murmured, grinning. “Like the bulb’s gonna blow out, or something.”
“The heaviest thing I can lift is a table, so I’ve been practicing with real tiny objects for a while now.” Seulgi squinted, shaking her head. “Needs concentration. A lot of it.”
“I thought you used to practice with marbles?”
“No. God, I’m way beyond that stage already. Now it’s wires, shifting contact points. I tried stopping a few watches at the store the other day.”
The trolley started pushing forward.
Seulgi didn’t even need to use her hands this time. She kept this up for a while, and soon they were both giggling.
“Hey,” Hoseok said, still trying to control his laughter. “Have you done it on any of those people who leave their things all over the place?”
“Sometimes.”
Hoseok shook his head. “Wow.”
“- Yeah, okay.” Jimin leaned against the trolley to stop it from moving. It squeaked under his weight. “It’s an invisible person.”
Seulgi pointed her finger at the crate of apples. One of them rose into the air, wobbling slightly. “Why?” she asked, moving her finger slightly. The apple floated up and down.
Hoseok made a grab for it. “It’s, uh, Seokjin-hyung.”
She turned around to face him. Hoseok tossed the fruit in her direction.
“They’re painfully shy,” she said, catching it and placing it in Jimin’s hand. “I know a few of them.”
Jimin stared at the apple.
“Join our little gang?” Hoseok shook his head. “That’s gonna be difficult.”
For the next three weeks, Jimin hung out at the candy counter after school.
Try the same day you saw him. It’s possible he might have a schedule, Hoseok had said.
By the third week, he’d seen plenty of featureless forms moving around, but none of them had that characteristic glow he was looking for.
They called off the meetings for two weeks. Seokjin said they would regroup the next month.
“It’s an ability malfunction,” Hoseok explained, when Jimin called him on one of those nights. “People with those things generally don’t like to be asked about it. I know I don’t.”
“You think he knows? That I saw?”
“I have no idea.”
“What did hyung say?”
“I didn’t manage to speak to him. He’s real busy. Seulgi-ssi too.”
“Is he alright?”
“Yeah. If he doesn’t call me, I’m going to assume it’s all good.” “How about you? How’s college been?”
“Finals.” Hoseok huffed, amused. “That should be enough to understand.”
“Yeah, I’m real sorry for you, hyung.”
“Come on, we haven’t talked this much, not until you started looking for that kid.”
“You don’t even know how old they are.”
“I’m just guessing.”
“For real though – do you think it’s a good idea?”
“I mean,” Hoseok clicked his tongue, thinking. “Mine doesn’t tend to flare up unless I like, lose my temper, or something. I know what they always say about those emotion-based abilities, but this was never been meant to work that way. I don’t think invisibility goes by that rule either.”
“I’m still surprised that you haven’t melted your walls off.”
“Just keep my eyes shut all the time. Remember what I told you? Shower, sleep, anytime I have my glasses off, I just close my eyes.”
“Isn’t it distracting?”
Hoseok let out an amused huff, breathing heavily into the receiver. “Safety hazard. Can’t take risks.”
“Have there ever been times when it didn’t work, instead of, uh, flaring up?”
“Yeah, sure.” Hoseok paused. “One time I was washing my face, and I just …you know, looked at myself in the mirror, on accident.”
“Oh my god.”
“Nothing happened. I think I was too shocked.”
“Otherwise –”
“Otherwise the police would find my dead body on the floor the next day. Fried to ashes, probably.” He laughed. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, anyway? School tomorrow.”
Jimin sighed. "Okay."
"So, uh -"
“It’s nice talking to you on the phone,” Jimin said, then smiled to himself. “Thanks.”
“Keep searching,” Hoseok replied. “Call me when you find them, whoever it is. Good night.”
Another week passed.
On a rainy day, Seulgi offered to drive him to the supermarket after school.
“You’re shooting in the dark, Jimin-ssi,” she said, tapping red fingernails on the steering. “Are you sure Seokjin-ssi made you do it?”
“Well, I kind of –” Jimin paused, frowning. “Argh – okay, I told him.”
“You told him.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled, shaking her head.
“You don’t have to be scared of him, you know.”
“I’m not.”
“So you’re still going at it?”
“I want to,” he said, looking straight at her. “Like how Seokjin found me. Found all of us. I want to find someone.”
Seulgi didn’t reply.
They pulled up outside the supermarket, rain running in sheets over the windows. The sky was dead, grey and bleak, wipers moving back and forth before their faces.
She pushed a folded umbrella over to him.
“Good luck.” She pointed at the umbrella. “You’ll probably need it.” He pushed on the door. In the distance, they heard thunder.
“Thanks.”
That same dedication blossomed into curiosity. Jimin wanted to know who this person was, wanted to see them, hear their voice. He entered the supermarket, felt the rush of cold air on his cheeks.
There had to be something here. He folded the wet umbrella, went straight to the candy counter again.
Jimin decided to buy something this time.
He took a paper bag from the stack and walked around to the other side. The colours ran the range of muted to sickly neon. Hoseok hated the weird flavours.
Jimin smiled, thinking about Hoseok’s reaction when he peeled open a bag of dark blue sugar mice and musk drops.
“The heck is this?”
“Time for a change, hyung.”
“Looks strange.” Hoseok poked around inside the bag with his finger. “Seriously. Can’t you just –”
“The musk isn’t all that bad. You should try it.”
But Hoseok didn’t like the taste. The face he made after that. Jimin still laughed when he thought about it.
The next few moments happened in the same fuzzy way that he narrated the events to Hoseok over the telephone that night. He’d gotten the guy’s number, after he called.
So it’s a guy, Hoseok said, and Jimin nodded. “Yeah. He sounds nice.”
He remembered looking up.
The soft blue glow was there again, visible through thin layers of clothing. A cap on the head.
Jimin realised he had been staring. He shut the lid of the candy box with a clatter, chucking the spoon into the holder.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
The person was walking away.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice rising in panic, “– uh, can I ask you something?”
Then the person stopped, turned back so that the brim of the cap was facing him. Jimin looked into the empty space here the face would have been.
Blue was fading to dark orange, dark green. Jimin clutched the candy bag to his chest.
“I – I know you can see me.” The person said, coming towards him, voice tight and nervous. “You’re … you read emotions, right? You’re one of those.”
“… How’d you know?”
“I saw my reflection in the plastic covers.” “What?”
The voice went quiet for a long moment.
“I’ve seen you here many times.” The brim of his cap tilted downwards. “Why – why were you looking for me?”
They were still standing on either side of the candy counter, talking to each other across it.
“I have a friend.” Jimin sounded more confident than he felt. “He – he has a, a support group for people who have … the same problem as you.”
“Being seen?"
“No. I mean, people like you and me. Faulty abilities.” There was no reply.
“I’ve never been able to read emotions in people who are invisible.” Jimin paused, hesitating. “And I don’t think people like you are supposed to see your own reflections either.”
Silence. Jimin breathed out, lightly, not daring to say anything.
“I don’t know,” the boy said. “Sometimes I come into contact with people like you, then sometimes it’s those clairvoyants, the healers, telepaths. They can see through it, they can see injuries, thoughts, whatever.”
“You’re not completely invisible.”
“No. I happened to be in the washroom, once, when this guy came in. He saw me, then he stopped walking, looked at me all weird. I think he read my mind. When I turned back to the mirror, I saw my reflection.”
“Were you shocked?”
“It only happens when something's off. When self-defences are down.”
Jimin swallowed. “Why don't you call us? I have a contact here.” He dug in his bag for a pen and an old receipt.
“Okay.” The boy sniffed, watching Jimin write his own name down on the paper. He waited for him to pass the paper over. “I’m Jungkook.”
Seokjin called him that night. The sky was dark, warm wind coming in through his windows. He sounded tired.
“Hoseok called me. I want to tell you something.”
Jimin tensed up. “About Jungkook?”
“No, I mean, it’s good that you found him.”
“Oh.” Jimin paused. He could hear Seokjin breathing on the other end. “Okay.” “No, look –” A sigh. “Jimin-ssi, I don’t need you to prove yourself to any of us.” “I’m not.”
“They said you were trying to look for another person because I told you to.” “It wasn’t.”
“Then?”
“I wanted to. I told Seulgi-ssi I was going to help whoever I could find. You did. You took us in.”
“Well, you don’t have to do the same thing.”
Jimin remembered what Seokjin had told him in the supermarket, in the bus. He sighed.
“Do you trust your memory now? Any more than you used to?”
“No.”
“Hyung, I’m going to be very honest. We’re afraid you won’t get better.”
“I found you because I wanted you to feel like you had someone. You’re not working for me.”
“Hyung, that’s not what you said.”
“Well, I’ve never looked at it any other way.”
Jimin stayed very still, feeling all that fear seep into him. He heard it more nowadays, heard it from Hoseok that Seokjin sometimes forgot his point halfway through the conversation. Forgot his own claims, even.
“I can still remember all of you, all your faces.” Seokjin paused. “From the start. That part is true, even if I say otherwise. You guys never left.”
Jimin’s voice grew softer, smaller. “You know how it feels like, right? To be alone?” Seokjin sighed. “To be alone?”
“He’s alone. Weren’t you always like that?”
A long pause. Jimin knew then, that the message had gone through.
“Aren’t we all?”
...
He talked with Jungkook a lot.
One of their phone conversations ran in a silent frame, just one-sentence replies. The emotion seemed to go through, even without words. Jimin was good at that, making his thoughts known without telling anyone directly.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“I’m still in school too,” Jungkook said, voice quiet. He laughed. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?”
“This thing I’ve stumbled into.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, it’s just really strange, that’s all.”
“We’re still looking for people.”
“Really? Is this an official thing?”
Jimin paused, then said, “between us, no.”
“Seems fine the way it is.”
“Seokjin-hyung sometimes forgets things,” Jimin said, wrapping the telephone cord around his fingers. “I think – I think that’s why he started looking for people. To help him remember.”
“How long have you known him for?”
“Three years. Seulgi-ssi and Hoseok-hyung, longer. I’m not sure how long.”
“Oh.”
“He used to remember things well. He could control it, what memories he wanted to keep, what he didn’t. Sometime later it started spinning out of control.”
“How did he ask you to join?”
“The same way I did to you. He remembered my face, for some reason. Said it haunted him, like the rest of them.”
Jungkook laughed.
“Yeah, I know it’s a little stupid.”
“No, hyung.” On the other end, Jungkook smiled. “I kinda remembered your face too. I don’t know why.”
Jimin helped him with his homework over the phone, clumsily tried to send him something in the mail.
“What were you thinking?” Jungkook said, cradling the phone to his ear, unfolding the drenched envelope. Jimin’s old school essay.
“The thing’s going to be broken once I peel it open.”
“I don’t need it back, anyway,” Jimin said. “Can you read it, though?”
“Barely.”
“Just try.”
“Yeah, okay.” A pause, breathing. “Okay, I peeled it apart. It hasn’t torn yet … I see you did well on this one.”
“Otherwise I wouldn’t have sent it to you.”
“I’m not going to copy it.”
“I’m not asking you to copy it, Jungkook-ssi. Read it and try to see why I did well."
“Yeah, okay.” Jungkook reached over, grunted as he stretched out to press the switch on his electric fan. “I – I’m going to work now. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jimin pressed the phone to his ear. “Wait.”
Jungkook’s reply was quick. “Yeah?”
“I can stay here.”
“… What?”
“I’ll hold on.”
“Oh – okay, give me a minute.”
Jungkook put the phone down. Jimin heard him shifting books and papers. Something bumped against the receiver. Then he picked up again.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Are – are you just going to listen to me?”
“Only for tonight, like this.”
“But I won’t talk much.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jimin pushed himself upright in the chair, leaned his elbow against the table, a stupid smile on his face.
“Or,” Jungkook said, sounding nervous, “maybe I'll just ask questions if I need to.”
The smile grew wider. “Sure.”
He was flipping pages in a book. The sound was oddly calming.
“Uh, I’ll just leave the receiver down here.” His voice faded, then there was a loud thunk as the phone was set on the table. A whisper. “Is this – is this okay?”
Jimin pressed a hand to his mouth, still smiling. “Do what you have to do,” he said. “I’ll be here.”
Half a year passed, but they kept talking.
On one of those vacation nights, Jungkook called him. It was November, cold and dark. “You don’t usually call first, Guk.”
“I know.”
“So, what is it?”
“We’re friends, right?”
The question sent a shiver down his back. Jimin’s fingers tightened around the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to go out again? Like we did the last time. That was fun.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” A pause. “Just us.” Jimin was silent.
“You know, what Seokjin-hyung said about his hours running out?”
Jimin blinked. “It’s just him talking nonsense again. We’ll help him with it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
A long pause. Jimin tensed up in his chair. “Don’t.”
“We have to stay together, even if he forgets completely.”
“I know.”
“It’s going to happen. I’ve heard stories.”
“Jungkook," Jimin said, his voice thin and almost pleading, "we have to hold on while we can.”
Jimin hung on to the phone, staring into nothingness. Listened to Jungkook’s silent presence. “While we still have time.”
He didn't forget a lot of things, like the restaurant they ate at with the red and green neon sign, the sweetheart chairs and funky tables. Jungkook ordered a strawberry cake and told him it was his favourite. The tablecloth was cream-coloured with a fuzzy lace edge. They ate in comfortable silence and left, cool air pressing into their clothes outside.
Jungkook's face was warm when he held it with one hand, them standing just a short distance away from the neon sign. Jimin felt without seeing, loved the feeling. He closed his eyes and it was a brief, chaste release, just the lightest of touches.
Everything was different in the dark.
Jungkook didn't look at him all the rest of the way home, just held his hand and fell into step with him.
Three more years passed, but their nights were no less magical.
They saw the star children walking in a group with blue halos around their heads, all grown up from the opening breed that came upon the city a decade ago. Bulbous heads and huge eyes with minds too whimsical even for this world. They went around barefoot most of the time. Along the field, they scattered the withered grass with fairy lights.
A girl was preoccupied with pyrotechnics on the far end of the bridge, curling a flame of fire from the edge of one fingernail to the next on her hand. Her fluffy hair was bleached – this bright platinum blonde colour that seemed to catch strands of streetlight. She glanced up and caught their eye, smiled at how they quickly turned away.
Shopping malls were broken down and rebuilt, made of glass and frozen icicles. In the eerie stillness of four a.m., there was nothing in the sky but the dead gold of a full moon.
They sat outside, on one of those public benches, watched a sandman form golden animals, moving spectres that stalked the streets carrying the dreams of people. Later on, at eight in the morning, the mall was unlocked, doors opened. They rushed in, not quite floating, not quite walking either. Around a corner, a will-o-the-wisp darted out of sight. A boy and a girl came out of hiding, their hands emanating blue light. There was a fountain in the mall that had been drained of water. Everything here was bright, with that eerie quality of a place that had not seen movement for a long time.
They were at the mall that morning.
Jungkook and Jimin were standing on the second floor, leaning against the railings, looking down to where Seulgi was walking slowly, next to Seokjin.
The deterioration had been slow. Those bright eyes of his still looked around, taking in everything, but memory formation had been difficult, memory retention even more so. Hoseok trailed behind, hands in pockets. They were talking softly, hushed whispers.
Jimin pressed his elbows against the railings, watching, an absent smile on his face. For now, he could close his eyes, and trust that things wouldn’t disappear, wouldn’t slip away if he opened them.
Just taking it slow, Seokjin had told them, in the middle of last year. They accompanied him on his early morning walks, took him out for meals.
Their supermarket meetings had since stopped. They had more of these outings now - long walks, contemplative reflections, and they didn't seem to tire of it. Hoseok had accepted his place in the club and started spending more time with them.
But Jimin hadn’t forgotten the colours – he saw more of it in his friends, more of it in Jungkook, more of it in himself.
He knew.
He came up with terms to describe what it was, but nothing ever truly matched the sight.
It was still watercolour-orange, but there was a delicate smudge of pink in the middle, spreading outwards - pretty faint, but undoubtedly the small start of something that probably ached.
Watching the shape of emotions could be a real beautiful thing, Jimin thought - nothing else he’d like to do for the rest of his life.
Jungkook suddenly pressed in close, their shoulders touching, and then he stepped back just as Jimin turned to face him.
“Did I startle you?”
Jimin grinned, showing teeth, and he wondered what the smile on Jungkook's face would have looked like, if he was smiling now.
What it probably felt like.
Jungkook suddenly inched towards him - with that characteristic burst of spontaneity he possessed in situations like this - and Jimin felt breathing on his chin, closed his eyes, anticipating, then heard the rustle of clothes.
Jungkook had stepped back again. “Not yet,” he said, this hint of amusement in his voice.
Jimin pulled away, smiling. He looked out at the bare expanse of the mall foyer, half-lit up in greyish light, the echoing footsteps of Seulgi's heels on the cracked mosaic far below in the darkness.
Fingers closed around his wrist, cautious and tentative. Then they were pulling at his arm.
“Come on,” Jungkook said, almost a shy whisper. The soft light from under the coat he wore was decidedly pink by now.
“What?”
That’s what the longing looked like, Jimin thought. And he was surprised by it, to be doing that to a person. He watched the blush of the glow, dazed.
Jungkook had said something.
“What?” Jimin repeated.
“Let’s go somewhere else.”
Then Jungkook's fingers moved down, interlaced with his own, and stayed.