Work Text:
I made a wish on an eyelash.
(Mallrat - Wish on an eyelash)
The paper was stained bright yellow on the sides. Jungkook drew small flowers in the corners. The heat of summer pressed into the bare classroom. You could almost hear the heat–a dense hum that bored into your head and left clammy fabrics on your skin.
As the school lesson was almost over, Yun raised her hand. Jungkook followed the little black hairs that had grown on her arm. Some of their classmates had teased Yun about her growing body this morning, and she had taken it with confidence. It was easy when you came from a good home. You might have been subjected to the usual bullying once or twice, but never to the absolute brutality of the school system and its cruel classmates.
"What is part of marriage?" asked Yun. The teacher laughed lightly and began to explain, "Marriage is between a man and a woman, a sacred bond..."
Jungkook stared at the picture in religion class, at the smiling white couple used for the textbook. He looked out the window, again, his gaze sliding past the back of Sunmi's head, his first crush.
In the schoolyard, he caught sight of Jimin, who had apparently been ordered to sweep the yard. Perhaps he had been given punishment work again. A trifle for the priest's son. He would never be thrown out of this school.
Jungkook watched Jimin sweep until he disappeared from his field of vision. Then he began to color in the flowers he had drawn on the edge of the yellowed pages.
He couldn't help but keep looking out of the window. Unfortunately for him, the older boy did not come running back into his field of vision.
When the bell rang for the break, and he stepped into the hallway, he was caught up by Yun. She immediately began to tell him about what they had learned today, an arm that hooked itself under him as if of its own accord. Jungkook thought of the sound of heat and black hair gleaming in the sun as a boy with a pretty smile swept the schoolyard.
_______________
His blanket over his head, he shunned the world. The paper under his fingers felt rough. Jungkook looked at his mobile phone, a new message from Taehyung, one of the few friends he liked to talk to outside of linoleum floors and the soft smell of used-up air.
That was because of one thing: they both liked romance manwha. Jungkook had the latest popular love story in his hand, which had only appeared in bookstores yesterday. Everyone in the fan community that liked these particular romance stories had been waiting eagerly for this edition to come out.
“Did you already read it?”, Taehyung texted. Jungkook sighed and took his phone in hand.
“No,” he typed, “wanted to begin reading now.”
“The lead is so cute,” Taehyung wrote, “she’s so cool and also very petite!”
“I’ll tell you what I think of it after I read it,” Jungkook typed, “now let me read!!”
“Okay, okay all right, text you later!” Taehyung answered.
Jungkook’s fingertip slid over the paper. He breathed in the smell of fresh printer ink. The smell of a printed book, the materiality of it in his hand, it was comfort. He had developed the habit to read under his bedsheets to have more time to put his manwha away, so his noisy mother wouldn’t be able to find out what he spent his evenings with.
He traced the lines of the female lead. The story was good, it was a sweet slow-burn romance. Jungkook had to smile and silently laugh at the story. He traced the lines of her face and her long hair. The male lead was also wonderful, with broad shoulders, a handsome face, and an even more handsome character.
His fingers stopped at the lips of the female lead.
Jungkook wondered, not for the first time if he imagined himself to be the male lead in these stories or the female lead or none at all. Reading these love stories made him wonder about his own love stories. His crushes, which weren’t that much so far:
Sunmi, his classmate; Jieun, a girl that already graduated and then there was…
Jungkook pressed his fingers so hard into the paper sheet, it nearly crumbled.
He failed to talk about these recurring thoughts with anybody. Of black hair in the summer heat, a sturdy body sweeping the yard.
Jungkook kept to himself. The thoughts that came to him from time to time, he kept to himself. Mostly, questions. Questions, he guessed, no one could give easy answers to in his religious community.
They would say he’s confused while Jungkook saw things with frightening clarity.
_______________
His parents waved after him as he drove away on the bus. Jungkook looked back at them, his stomach in knots. Actually, he didn't feel like joining the summer camp this year. He would rather have spent the two weeks in the summer playing video games with the other teenagers his age in the neighborhood than go on a trip with people he was around all the time at school anyway.
If he squinted his eyes, he believed he saw the small cross dangle at his mothers’ neck, glinting in the sunlight as their two figures became smaller and smaller as they drove away.
She had gifted him one too, two days before the start of the trip. The goal of this summer camp was getting “closer to god”, whatever that meant. Jungkook had long since stopped thinking too much about the god his parents prayed so much to anyway.
His thoughts often wandered to an unforeseen time in the future, when he could leave this small town behind and would not be bothered to think about all these big questions anymore.
Jungkook longed for ease.
His gaze wandered somewhere else, to a familiar mob of black hair sitting three rows in front of him. Jimin joined their camp to ‘keep an eye on them’, together with other older students. The older looked outside the window, outside into the simmering heat and the fleeting landscape. Jungkook wondered if Jimin was sitting voluntarily in this bus.
Being the son of their community’s pastor held a lot of pressure.
Jungkook’s eyes trailed along slightly hunched shoulders.
As he had traced the protagonists of his manwha last night, he did so with Jimin’s side profile with his eyes. He liked looking at Jimin. Something about this boy made him feel safe.
There was a kind of knowing, of recognition. Jungkook tried to look away, avert his eyes so no one else of his camp mates would notice anything out of the norm, to make him a target of unpleasant malice.
As lush trees, mountains, and small villages passed by, Jungkook wondered if Jimin felt like him. If he dreaded the summer camp and wished to be somewhere else, too.
Later that day, when all was safe and sound, everyone was introduced, and their little group had already eaten dinner, Jungkook found Jimin in the small cabin that was filled with their food and drinks for the two weeks.
Jimin was rummaging around, making a small sound as soon as he heard Jungkook entering.
“Oh my, you scared me,” Jimin said, two bottles of cheap wine in hand.
Jungkook eyed the alcohol. “I didn’t think we’d drink on this camp,” he just said slowly. For some reason, he felt like straightening up and consciously relaxing his shoulders. He was taller than Jimin. His throat got dry.
Jimin put the wine down on the table next to him.
“I am old enough to drink,” he said, and then, with a bright smile and a wink, he added “and you all are nearly old enough to drink.”
His parents would say Jimin is a person Jungkook should rather not have anything to do with. Jungkook wanted to have something to do with Jimin. Jungkook dared to look into Jimin’s face, consciously, to trace all the lines of the striking face now that he got a chance to look at him from nearby.
“Won’t get you in trouble when they find out?” he asked, his lips opening and closing without much thinking.
In the pit of his stomach was anxiety, immediately.
He was annoyed with himself for finding this question so ambiguous. It was a perfectly normal question about alcohol consumption in summer camp when most people, like Jungkook, were not even allowed to drink.
Jimin leaned against the table, his eyebrows raised. The older man just looked at him open. An oversized pink sweater, black shorts, and white Converse. Jungkook tried not to stare.
He licked his lips and saw Jimin’s eyes follow the movement. Maybe he wasn't the only one who enjoyed looking at people.
“I think,” Jimin said, quietly. Then he took the two bottles of wine in hand, pressing them against his chest, “I think I stopped caring about the things people want from me, think of me.”
With these words, Jimin pushed past him, his shoulder pressing against his for a moment.
Jungkook didn't want to let go of the feeling that Jimin also recognized things in him that were too risky to say out loud.
_______________
"You have a lost eyelash under your left eye," Jimin said softly, pressing his leg closer against his. The campfire licked high into the sky. One of the older ones was looking for a flashlight to tell a horror story.
Jungkook grabbed his face, stroking his cheek several times.
The little black eyelash lay on his finger.
"You can make a wish, you know?" Jimin asked softly. Jungkook nodded.
He closed his eyes.
He knew exactly what he wanted to wish for.
Jimin's body was heat next to his, wrapped under the cheap blanket as Jungkook sent his eyelash away with a wish.
_______________
Jungkook liked his community. He loved his parents. He loved his friends.
He sometimes even loved that cross dangling from his mother’s neck.
The feelings were contradictory: not everything was bad. Nothing was always bad or always good, that’s just not how life was.
The problem was never his own sensitivities. Jungkook could accept the contradictions of life. Contradiction had been residing inside him as long as he had been consciously walking on this earth.
The problem was that many other people, most people he loved, did not tolerate contradiction. That made it hard to see a future that would make everyone happy. It was unfair that this burden sat on his shoulders. That he was genuinely concerned about the sensitivities of the people he loved.
Jungkook wanted to be loved for who he was. It should be easy. Jungkook longed for ease.
“I think I stopped caring about the things people want from me, think of me,” Jimin had said.
He mulled over that sentence. They had been able to talk a few times more in that camp, always about safe things, easy things–small talk.
Jungkook liked to sit close to Jimin when the older ones of their group lit small campfires in the evening. This never seemed to bother Jimin at all. Without saying anything else, he had shared his blanket with him, murmuring that "he must have felt cold" while Jungkook felt hot and sweaty under his clothes.
Jungkook often watched Jimin sweep the schoolyard during the beginning school year, Jimin's last. The older one always looked up at him and caught him staring.
Jungkook did not look away.
Jimin smiled at him, wryly, secretly, wonderfully. Jimin knew that Jungkook knew what only they could know.
_______________
It was White Day.
Jungkook already was given fifteen different packages of white chocolate as well as flowers. He felt thankful and also a little shy. Some of the girls were so embarrassed, they could not even speak. He understood that sentiment: Even a ‘thank you’ was difficult to pronounce today.
Yun already joked about him being the most popular boy at their school.
When he went to freshen up at the drinking fountain in the schoolyard after sports class, the sun again busy shining down on him through the cold wind, he stopped when he saw Jimin on a bench nearby.
The man was holding a rose in his hand, a bag beside him. "Hey Jungkook," Jimin called as soon as he saw him too. The older man raised his hands in the air and waved.
Jungkook ran to Jimin. The closer he got, the more he realized that Jimin had a purple ring around his eyes.
"What happened?" he shot out as he sat down next to Jimin. The skin around his eye showed a purple, blue, and yellow color.
“Oh, this?” Jimin asked, pressing his fingers at his swollen cheek beneath the bruised skin, “my father happened. It’s okay.”
Jungkook seemed so concerned that Jimin raised his hands slightly and said, "Don't worry. I punched him in the face too."
“You did?” Jungkook asked, shocked, “If I’d punched my dad I would be homeless tomorrow,” he said half-joking, half-serious. Jimin lowered his head to look at the flower in his hand. He turned it back and forth, the thorns digging little nicks into ringed fingers.
Jungkook had noticed long before that the older seemed to like wearing lots of rings.
"My father cares too much about what the community thinks," Jimin said quietly, "to kick me out. Besides, I'll be gone soon anyway."
Ah. Jimin's graduation ceremony was not far off.
Jungkook suddenly had a lump in his throat. He was happy for Jimin. He was–
"Will you go far away?" he asked, softly.
"Hmm," Jimin said, placing the flower on Jungkook's lap. Their eyes met. Jungkook's breath caught in his throat.
"Far away from this place? Definitely."
Hidden under a little powder were freckles on Jimin’s cheeks, the beginning of spring.
"Jungkook? Where are you?"
It almost physically hurt to take his eyes off Jimin to look at Sumni, who waved at him from afar, "It's our turn to clean up, Jungkook!" she shouted.
Jungkook picked up the rose in his lap and stood up. "I-" he began, reaching out to hand it back to Jimin.
"It's White Day," Jimin said, smiling, "it’s a gift to you."
As Jungkook turned and walked to Sumni, who eyed the flower in his hand with interest, his knees felt soft and his face hot. He pressed the flower against his chest.
_______________
The students, who now had their diplomas securely packed in their pockets, streamed into the schoolyard. Surrounded by proud parents, the noise level quickly increased. It was summer again, and once again you could almost hear the density of the heat on the asphalt.
Jimin was wearing black cloth trousers and a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up. Jungkook watched him from a distance. The pastor, whom Jungkook only knew because he was often invited to dinner by his parents, patted Jimin on the shoulder. There was no one else next to these two, just Jimin and his father.
Jimin looked blankly at his father. Then he gazed around the crowd of the graduating class.
When their eyes met, Jimin's face opened up. He smiled at him, his eyes forming two crescent moons, and raised his hand to wave. Jungkook waved back.
This was their farewell.
Jungkook cried that night, pulling the duvet up to his nose to stifle the snot and tears inside. His parents were fast asleep, only his small bedside lamp painting orange colors on his walls.
His crying session was rudely interrupted by a sound against his window. At first, he thought that this was foliage hitting his window or something. But after five consecutive small sounds against his window, Jungkook got curious enough to wipe the snot from his face and peer out his window.
His eyes bulged out. Jungkook rubbed his face and pinched the skin of his naked thighs.
There was Jimin standing outside his window, waving in the dim light of the street lamps. His brain short-circuited and he stumbled back, tumbling over clothes that he had thrown on the floor hours ago. He rubbed his face again, in utter shock.
He should go outside before Jimin decided to leave again.
Jungkook hurried to put on some pants and threw a black oversized hoodie over his head. He just was wearing boxer shorts, nothing else, it was summer, and he had just cried under his blanket.
Opening his bedroom door with graceful quiet ease was one of his specialties. So was walking slowly down the stairs and grabbing the front door key without waking his parents.
When he opened the front door and still saw Jimin in the streetlight, he suddenly realized that you could certainly tell from his face that he had been crying. Embarrassing. Jungkook dug deeper into the hoodie as if that would make anything better.
“Hey,” Jimin whispered as soon as he was close enough.
“Hey,” Jungkook whispered back, hands buried in his hoodie. With the sun, the heat had disappeared and yet Jungkook felt as warm as if he were standing in the midday sun.
There was an awkward silence as they both eyed each other.
“You surely wonder why I am here, disturbing you so late,” Jimin said and looked down at the dark concrete. Jungkook looked around them. There was not a soul on this street, other than them. Mainly all lights were out.
They were both standing underneath a tree. Jungkook gazed back to his family’s home. Were they hidden by the leaves so his parents wouldn’t see them when they looked outside the window?
“Yes, a little I do wonder,” Jungkook whispered and stepped closer to Jimin. They weren’t that far away from each other anymore. If Jungkook lifted his arm, he could touch Jimin’s.
"Maybe I ah-," Jimin said softly, accompanied by Jungkook's booming heartbeat in his ear, "maybe I misinterpreted it but-" Jimin lifted his head to look at him.
His gaze was crystal clear. Cat eyes in the darkness. Jungkook shuffled with his feet, coming even closer.
They looked at each other and Jungkook knew what was about to happen, felt it in every fibre of his heart. Jimin took a step closer, and now they were so close he could feel his breath on his cheeks.
Warm hands came to rest on his cheeks and pulled his head down a little.
Jungkook held his breath.
"Tell me to stop," Jimin whispered so close to his lips, his knees were soft.
"I don't want you–," Jungkook replied, but the end of his sentence was captured by Jimin's lips.
I don't want you to stop.
Jimin’s lips were soft and plush against his own. Warm. Jungkook didn’t quite know how to act. It wasn’t his first kiss but his first kiss with Jimin. It was like starting anew with everything he thought he’d known about himself.
As his tongue brushed against his lips, begging for entry, Jungkook opened his mouth willingly. A little hasty, too, of course, as he felt Jimin’s smile against his own.
Jimin breathed against him, he could feel his chest moving up and down. Heat pooled into his stomach. Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s arms to pull him closer. That made them stumble, from one side to the next.
Jimin laughed against his own, quiet, small laughter as he pulled Jungkook even closer to his body, making them stop swaying. Jungkook pushed his tongue against Jimin’s. He didn’t want this kiss to end.
But it did. After minutes that felt like years and at the same time, like seconds, Jimin licked into his mouth and then, kissed his lips, and then, moved his head away to take a breath.
“I didn’t misinterpret,” Jimin whispered and galaxies danced in his eyes. Jungkook’s fingers were still buried in Jimin’s sweater.
“No, you didn’t”, Jungkook said, quietly, and pressed his forehead against the other’s shoulder.
_______________
Jungkook cried again silently in his bed the day Jimin moved away three weeks later. He cried into his pillow, silently, so that no one could hear. He pressed a small stuffed bunny against his chest that Jimin had gifted him days ago.
Jimin promised that he would message Jungkook from time to time and that, he did. Jungkook still had two more years to survive in this city, the school with a schoolyard devoid of shining black hair and a smile with a crooked tooth.
Jimin’s messages came every other week, sometimes every other month. Jungkook was happy when he read, through the lines, that his forever crush had found happiness in a city far away from his father and the suffocation that could be this small town.
Far away from Jungkook.
He tried not to think about it too much. Jimin could not have stayed in this city for him. Jimin would have died, maybe, or something less catastrophic, but probably terrible.
This city tended to devour people like Jimin alive. Jungkook was a good price to pay if you were in need of freedom.
Jungkook watched his phone as it lit up, head buried in another manwha. He gazed at the phone, thinking that it was likely Taehyung who messaged him.
As he saw the small ‘jm’ on the small screen, he grabbed the phone hastily.
Went to Pride today <3
Attached was a picture of Jimin holding two tiny pride flags in pink, purple, and blue. Next to him were five other individuals that Jungkook knew from Jimin’s narration about his life at University.
Tiny droplets of tears fell on his phone screen as Jungkook watched Jimin holding their flags in his hands. It was bittersweet– he smiled, laughed quietly, and cried as he longed for Jimin and the things he experienced.
_______________
“You sure you want to leave us?” his mother asked him, for the 345th time. Jungkook pulled the last bag he had packed into the small car.
Jimin’s car. It was pink. Jungkook had to suppress a burst of hysterical laughter as he watched his parent’s eyes as soon as Jimin drove by to pick him up.
“Yes, I am sure,” he answered, slowly as he hugged his parents goodbye.
The school was done. He had left the sticky rooms, the heated floors, and the ghosts that had stuck in the walls. Jungkook had graduated with honors and was now ready to leave his town, his community, and his parents to live somewhere else.
Jimin had immediately offered him a room in his shared apartment with Namjoon. They were looking for someone anyway, he had said.
Jungkook secretly knew that Jimin had not rented out the free room six months ago as Yoongi had moved out of their shared flat, because he hoped Jungkook would come. Namjoon seemed to be a nice guy if he allowed such things.
Seeing Jimin again after two years was a strange feeling. The older man had grown up, a tiny bit taller but still smaller than Jungkook.
Jimin was even more handsome than before. It left him staring too much, not really sure how he should behave in front of his forever crush. Jimin’s cat eyes were far less shy than before. It made his ears blush every time Jimin looked at him.
Jimin commented on that bodily reaction with a knowing grin. Jungkook would have to get used to some new things, it seemed. His hand reached for his neck, but there was nothing to hold on to.
He left behind the cross that his mother had given him. It lay on his folded bed for his parents to find as soon as he left.
Jungkook was ready for ease.
He watched his parents become small figures in the distance. They waved at him. Jungkook waved back until they turned into the next street.
It was summer, once again. The heat was almost unbearable, especially in Jimin's car, which had no air conditioning.
Jungkook took a few deep breaths in and out. He felt like he had to cry, but there were no more tears coming out of his eyes.
They drove past their old school, the houses of their community, and the church where Jimin's father lived next door.
As they drove onto the main road and left their former hometown, Jimin tentatively put his hand on his.
Jimin still liked to wear many rings, which were cool against his skin.
"It gets easier as time passes," Jimin said, softly against the upbeat music on the radio, "let time do its thing." Jungkook nodded, and watched as landscapes passed by, safely in Jimin’s presence, in his tiny pink car.
Jimin's hand remained on his. Jungkook lifted it to his face and pressed a kiss to the back of Jimin's hand, which he commented with a slight smile.
Two hours later, they had both turned the radio up loud and were singing their lungs out. Jungkook tasted freedom on his tongue.
_______________
Two months later, Jungkook moved from his room into Jimin’s.
Why should they waste a room when they always hung out together anyway?
He still talked to his parents on the phone, even if they didn't like to talk to him sometimes. Jungkook found ways to deal with that pain. It was worth it.
Jungkook kissed Jimin in the daylight. He no longer had to wait until darkness fell on the streets and the leafy canopy of the trees protected them from the greedy eyes of others.
Jungkook held Jimin's hand, not always, but sometimes. When he did, he squeezed his hand tightly, savoring the feeling of being out in the open with the man he loved.
Jimin whispered the sweetest and filthiest things in his ear when they were together at night. He held him so close that Jungkook slowly accepted any sadness about days gone by.
His laugh was contagious. His shyness was all too present when they were spending time with people they both didn't know. Jungkook settled in well and began his studies with vigor. It was as if everything was a little easier, less dead weight.
He still read his comics and exchanged opinions with Taehyung. Recently, they also included the Boys Love genre in their nightly discussions and small internal reading sessions.
Jungkook grew into his skin, suddenly filling out his body. There was much more room to breathe and much more time to do what he wanted.
Jungkook loved Jimin and Jimin loved Jungkook.
His wish on an eyelash had become reality.