Work Text:
now
jungkook reaches for a pencil slowly, hands shaking and breathing uneven. his worn notebook filled to the brim with sketches and messy poems done at midnight sits in front of him, opened to a new page.
he breathes deeply.
his house is quiet, has been quiet for a long time. he’s gotten less and less visitors as the months passed by – giving him time or gave up eventually trying to get him to be the person he once was.
the latter, is what he presumes. namjoon would never give up, he thinks, and his vision blurs again.
only the faint sound of traffic penetrates the heavy silence. that, and his choked-up breathing.
then
“time – is a strange concept jeonggukie. you know today, the teachers gave us an activity in the middle of the class to do for a break. we all stood up and she timed us with her watch. the point of it was to sit down when you thought a minute had gone by, and the person closest to sixty seconds would win. obviously, people cheated and looked at their own watches, but i don’t think anyone wanted to win.” namjoon smiled at him then, dimples and all. jeongguk smiled back.
“it was an experiment, really. of how everyone viewed time differently. some people sat when it had only been forty seconds, and some stayed standing long after a minute had passed. but we were all doing the same thing, and that’s what baffled me. they say time flies when you’re having fun, but we weren’t. it’s not like someone that counted quicker was doing something fun – we were all doing the same thing. yet we all still counted differently vastly. take the slowest counter, a minute and thirty seconds, and the fastest, forty seconds. that’s almost a minute difference. isn’t it strange jeonggukie?”
jeongguk loved it when he did that, when namjoon rambled and gushed about things, animated and hands flying everywhere. he was looking at him earnestly, eyes clear and bright.
jeongguk would follow him anywhere.
it was getting really sunny from where they were sitting on the bench outside school. he was waiting for an answer, jeongguk knew.
he didn’t know how to answer, but namjoon was looking at him as if whatever he said counted, even though jeongguk was only thirteen and namjoon sixteen and surely, surely nothing jeongguk said would be of new to him. because namjoon was smart, and jeongguk – well jeongguk was just jeongguk.
he still didn’t know what to say.
jeongguk hummed in agreement, squinting up at the sky then back again to namjoon. “yes, it is strange.” he paused. “but all time spent with you goes fast.”
namjoon stared at him for a moment before laughing, “gosh i sure hope so. wouldn’t know what to think if you’d told me every minute spent with me was slow and agonising. would probably stop being friends with you, jeon jeongguk,” he elbowed jeongguk’s ribs playfully. he said something else then, but jeongguk wasn’t listening. he would apologise later for that and they would race back home together. jeongguk won, of course (namjoon might have the brains but jeongguk’s got the legs). but right now he could only see the word ‘friends’ hanging in the air in front of him, bold and a soft green. he didn’t want it to fly away, or disappear. didn’t want it to fade into a muted grey. could only hear namjoon saying ‘friends’, because that’s what they were.
friends.
friends, who looked out for each other, who helped each other and who get through whatever shit life’s got to throw at them, together. not like the friends he had before, who never really saw him or cared. who never asked him to join them and who sometimes laughed at him, pointing fingers.
namjoon was his first friend.
and also his first love.
everyone would tease him later as the years went by, tease namjoon too, ‘he would follow you to the ends of earth namjoon-ah’, ‘look at the way he looks at you, you can’t deny it’ and it was true – jeongguk would follow namjoon anywhere, would do anything for him if he asked. but they weren’t lovers.
jeongguk questioned it once, but it wasn’t that kind of love he had for namjoon. this love, was constant – not fickle like the moon’s phases, nor the seasons that change their minds too often too soon, or like seokjin’s favourite colour that fluctuates every day, but constant. as constant as the time that flows across existence.
a love that perhaps ran deeper than lovers.
jeongguk thinks of seconds, of minutes, of hours, and how the days now go achingly slow without him.
now
jeongguk sees his phone light up – yoongi-hyung. he left it on silent on purpose, even though it was probably not a good idea knowing hyung. he didn’t want anyone to disturb him, although the chances were slim. these days, his mum, yoongi-hyung, and tae are the only ones that call or ever pay him a visit. hoseok occasionally. jin was overseas working at an exclusive internship and jimin was with his ballet company touring america. they were both busy, but still check-up on him from time to time.
he stares at his phone as it lights up again with yoongi’s name. min yoongi jjang jjang man bong bong.
yoongi changed it a few years ago. jeongguk doesn’t know how he got access to his phone; tae probably told him, that traitor. he had laughed for half a minute straight when he saw the name flash up the first time, rolling his eyes as he answered the call.
“when did you even change it? no, how did you get the password?” jeongguk smiled into the phone.
“yah, shouldn’t you greet your hyung nicely first before interrogating me?”
jeongguk only rolled his eyes again (still smiling), put on a overly-sweet accent before replying, “good morning my pretty, lovely, old yoongi-hyung-
“old? yah jeongguk next time i see you i’ll show you who’s-
“yeah yeah tiny old scary hyung,” jeongguk giggled. yoongi was harmless.
it became a thing afterwards, calling yoongi ‘tiny old scary hyung’.
it was a fond memory. he has a lot of fond memories from that period of time. when it was autumn, before winter came in unannounced with its cold hands and sharp teeth. before nights spent staring at the ceiling, empty, empty, empty and before the twenty-third of december. before winter took everything away.
he doesn’t smile at the memory. he doesn’t smile much these days.
jeongguk sighs. he should probably call back, if he wants to avoid yoongi tearing down his apartment door like last time. literally.
he sends a quick text to yoongi telling him he’s alright and at home and that there’s nothing to worry about. because apparently, everyone’s still worried about him.
he’s fine.
honestly, he’s fine.
1:28pm
answer my calls instead of giving me a heart attack next time, prick.
you sure you’re okay?
jeongguk gives a small smile, forgetting how dramatic yoongi could be sometimes. he sees the typing symbol appear, then disappear.
1:29pm
i’m fine tiny old scary hyung:)
he sees yoongi typing again, then re-typing. he’s about to put his phone down before he sees the message appear across the screen.
1:30pm
i love you.
jeongguk tries not to cry.
then
tae found him crying in the dark.
“guk-ah?” tae turned on the kitchen lights, illuminating the small space. it was 10:40 on a saturday night, and tae had come in with two packets of ramen and some instant rice. they had planned to watch howl’s moving castle, something warm and light-hearted. something with a happy ending.
it was quiet, save from some soft music playing. tae wasn’t sure where it was coming from. “jeongguk?” he called.
tae found him next to the piano, tucked in a corner and head leaned against the side of it. his phone was on the floor, playing music. tae recognised it from the movie they had watched with namjoon a few weeks ago; your name. he didn’t know what the instrumental piece was called, but it was something sad and heart-wrenching.
tae watched him for a while, before sitting down across him, leaning against the other wall. jeongguk could only see tae’s side profile from here – the faint kitchen light playing with his hair. they sat in silence, music filling the space between them.
jeongguk didn’t know how long he sat there, clutching his notebook. the notebook namjoon gave him for his nineteenth birthday two years ago. he’d nearly filled it up now, but hadn’t touched it since –
since.
jeongguk closed his eyes, hearing the strings in the song swell up. when he opened them again, tae was still there, a stoic but weary expression on his face. he knew tae would stay there the whole night with him. knew tae would do anything for him, even if he didn’t deserve it. he hadn’t realised how hard it was for the rest of his friends too. he had shut them all out unconsciously, grieving on his own but he didn’t realise that they had been namjoon’s friends too. that they were hurting too.
“tae,” jeongguk said softly. tae looked at him, soft and tender and jeongguk couldn’t help but cry more because there was so much love in tae’s eyes. despite everything that had happened, the world didn’t break the love tae had.
“guk-ah, it’s okay.” tae edged closer and held his hand firmly. warmly. “you don’t have to go through this alone.”
tae stared at him, eyes full of fierce love. something broke in him then. jungkook was never a loud crier; when he cried it was quiet and soft, as if he didn’t want the world to hear him. as if he wanted to carry his burdens alone, because he couldn’t – didn’t want to bother anyone. he was fine.
he wasn’t fine.
“i’m-i’m so sorry tae,” jeongguk cried. “i’m so sorry.”
“hey, hey, what are you sorry for? it’s okay guk-ah, we understand. we get it, people cope in different ways and sometimes that’s being alone but hyung’s just worried, is all, we all are. you don’t know how much we’ve been worrying over you these past few weeks. you don’t have to carry this grief alone, jeongguk.” he didn’t know how he ended up crying into tae’s shoulder, but he was grateful for it. grateful that tae was here, and that he had friends and family who cared. grateful that they had stayed, despite the radio silence he had given them. that he wasn’t alone, even if the gaping hole in his chest seemed to grow bigger every day.
tae stayed with him like that till his sobs died down, brushing his hair back soothingly. the same song had been replaying for hours now.
jeongguk heaved a deep sigh, leaning against tae’s shoulder.
“he made me who i am, tae,” jeongguk said quietly, voice wet with tears. “and now that he’s gone, it’s like i lost myself too.” he felt his eyes water again; it was the most he had spoken about namjoon to anyone since. “it doesn’t feel like it was just two weeks ago. i miss him, tae.”
tae squeezed his hand and whispered into the dark, “me too, guk. i keep expecting to hear a plate crash or find stuff broken around the house,” he scoffs fondly. jeongguk smiles softly – it’s not a day if namjoon manages not to break anything.
silence fell between them, before tae started speaking again. “i don’t think he made you who you are, guk-ah. i think you’ve always been who you are, and he made you realise that that was you.” jeongguk closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply.
“i keep expecting him to walk in, bringing in another potted plant, or asking me to show him what i drew today. not that i-i’ve drawn anything though,” jeongguk’s voice cracked. not that he can. he can’t even stand to look at his drawings anymore – without thinking of namjoon, namjoon, namjoon.
“i miss him too, guk-ah.” and that was enough.
that was enough, with tae’s hand in his.
-
“here,” namjoon had thrusted a hastily wrapped package into jeongguk’s hands. jeongguk raised an eyebrow, looking at him.
“i’m sorry the wrapping is really crappy, you know i can’t wrap,” namjoon sheepishly said, rubbing his hands from the autumn chill that had already greeted them. jeongguk smiled; yes, he knew.
“thank you, hyung,” jeongguk replied. “should we-
jeongguk gestured inside, to where their friends were waiting.
he was turning nineteen and if he didn’t get back in soon seokjin-hyung would probably start cutting the cake. in fact, he could hear jimin’s yells for someone to ‘get the knife away from him!’ jeongguk smiled and was about to call out before-
“actually, could you open that now?” namjoon had said, swinging back and forth on his toes.
jeongguk paused. curiosity gnawed at him. “but jin-hyung…” he faltered. “okay. this better not be some weird shit,” he eyed namjoon suspiciously, who was grinning.
he unwrapped the package carefully, although it was going in the bin later anyways.
it was a vintage notebook, with rough-edged paper and hand-bound. he gasped.
“it’s gorgeous,” jeongguk breathed. he’d always wanted one of these, but they were way too expensive for him to buy with the money he earned from his part-time job at lotteria. there were detailed engravings on the leathered cover, and a leather buckle to close the notebook too.
“oh my god hyung, thank you so much,” he looked up at namjoon, beaming.
“i thought maybe you could start writing your poems in it, instead of on receipts and uni assignments,” namjoon said, emphasising the latter part and smirking.
“hey it’s the aesthetic these days,” jeongguk replied, to which they both started laughing.
namjoon was here, and jeongguk was so happy.
-
the sky was so blue, jeongguk remembers. he was itching for a pencil, wanting to sketch how the clouds looked against the vivid cerulean. wanted to tell namjoon about it, and show him too, even though they were looking at the same sky. but he hadn’t brought his satchel with him today, lost in the rush of this morning. it was too blue to be true, he mused.
he thinks about that day a lot. it was two days before christmas, and the sky was so blue. did he miss the signs? was there something he had forgotten? how could the world have been so beautiful, so lovely, so untainted, when namjoon died?
there should’ve been thunderstorms, jeongguk thought when he ran and ran and ran until his feet bled. it should’ve been raining, and the wind should’ve screamed and thrashed and the sky should’ve cried too. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CRY?” he had yelled, voice hoarse from crying as he collapsed onto his knees in a deserted street. “w-why didn’t you cry,” he weeped.
the sun continued shining, the sky too blue.
now
jeongguk has a pencil in his hand, and he’s about to write. it’s almost two in the afternoon, three years after the accident. he hasn’t written nor drawn anything for three years. he stares at the vintage notebook, at all the neon sticky notes poking out and at how the pages are crinkled because he’d dropped it in a puddle once. that was years ago. it was brimming with history, and it all began with namjoon. three years without namjoon, and the world has continued.
time didn’t stop, time never does.
there’s this painting. a painting called ‘the ninth wave’ by ivan aivazovsky and it depicts a churning sea against a warm, pink sunrise. a boat of people await a large wave, the biggest wave possibly. the ninth wave. the title refers to a nautical expression that indicates that the ninth wave is the last, largest and most destructive wave in a series of waves, in which the cycle begins again.
namjoon’s death was jeongguk’s ninth wave. but the cycle begins again, and again, and again. time does not wait.
the truth is, namjoon was his first friend. and also his first love. namjoon was the one good thing in the world after a long period of darkness and hollowness. namjoon was there when he pulled his wisdom teeth out, when he twisted his ankle, when he failed his first exam, when he got into seoul national university, when his parents got divorced, when he went to his first ever real job interview and came back crying because he didn’t get it; namjoon had been there through it all. had been there more than his parents or brother had ever been, had taught him that there is beauty in bruises and broken pieces, and that not all yellow shines.
healing is a long process, jeongguk knows. there is no wrong or right way, and definitely no due date for when the pain and hurt stops. but he wouldn’t go anywhere without trying. at least, try.
try jeongguk, that is the least you can do. he hears namjoon’s voice, sees him with his round glasses and dimples, smiling at him encouragingly, but unlike all the previous times, jeongguk doesn’t hide from it. try, jeongguk.
jeongguk releases a breath, graphite to the page, and begins writing.
namjoon-hyung,
the sky was so blue when you died. i had wanted it to cry, to hurt like i did, but it stayed blue.
i realise now, that it was celebrating you.