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The day after Jeongguk learns Indigo, Jimin wakes him up in the middle of the night. Tear stains that his boyfriend couldn’t see highlights the sickly color of Jimin’s cheeks, glistening and hinting at the weight he has started to drop. They find themselves in the bathroom now, Jimin sitting on the counter and still unable to form words while his whole being shook with soundless sobs. Jeongguk is still trying to wake up, catch up with the situation, when his boyfriend falls forward against his shoulder.
He’s never been like this.
Where Jeongguk felt numb, Jimin made up for in broken hiccups and wrinkled shirts. The younger felt himself be tugged closer, familiar nails pressing into his hips through fabric that he didn’t bother reacting to. He allows himself to fall against and fold over the older, like a ragdoll that has seen the last of his days.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin mutters in the best way he knows how: holding him close and pressing into the side of his neck.
Jeongguk responds by trailing his hand up his back only for his fingers to slide into the tangled strands of Jimin’s hair. Once his fingers find home, they massage gently into Jimin’s scalp, coaxing the older to melt into Jeongguk’s shoulder. He continues this, parting cracked lips and testing his sore throat by swallowing before whispering sweet, reassuring things into his lover’s ear.
You’re okay, I have you. We have each other, right? Ultramarine for trust and loyalty, remember? He begins to struggle with his wording. Jeongguk has never been the one to correctly translate thoughts into actual words, and now only speaks in colors. You’re not Alice anymore. Jimin, please.
There’s that ugly color again. The color does not come from Jeongguk’s chest like usual, no, this time he catches it as it radiates off the limp figure hidden in the crook of his neck. Panic drops weighted silver in his stomach, and he pulls back, calming fingers suddenly shaky in Jimin’s soft locks. The twist and curl around strands of hair, finally tightening just enough so his hands didn’t shake, but not tight enough to cause discomfort or harm to Jimin.
When the other notices this, he immediately cups the younger’s face and tugs him down until their noses are touching. Jeongguk’s breath is minty, Jimin can’t help but press their lips together in a chaste kiss before whispering a what’s wrong? into the small pocket of air between them. He fails to notice the shakiness of his own voice; it sounds to foreign and to unlike his own for it to register. Jeongguk doesn’t answer, instead whimpers and gathers his boyfriend up in his arms and just holds him, hoping to change the current shade taking up his vision.
“Jeongguk, what’s wrong?” His words are muffled by the fabric of the boy’s t-shirt, arms now hanging by his sides as he’s squeezed and worried over.
“This color,” the younger manages to squeeze out, words airy and rushed. “I don’t like it. I don’t know what it is, Jimin, but please take it away I don’t like it.”
(Duke. Panic, betrayal, self-hate. Jeongguk has yet to have a name for this color, but Jimin tells him later in the morning.)
“Hey, listen to me- Jeongguk, breathe, listen.” Jimin’s hands find the familiar place of Jeongguk’s hips once more, pulling him firmly into his chest and locking his wrists at the small of his back. He himself is still shaken up, voice hoarse from tears, but he prioritizes Jeongguk over himself. His boy colored with purity and love. Andaman, Alice.
“It’s okay.” He tilts his chin back to press a kiss to the younger’s jaw, barely catching his skin but the sudden touch brings Jeongguk’s attention to him. Struggling to place more kisses under Jeongguk’s chin, Jimin continues, corners of his eyes already wet again. “It’ll be alright.” Because you’re fine, and I’m fine. We’re both okay, let’s just go back to bed.
The start of the problem is seemingly forgotten once they’re under their sheets again, fingers connected and legs tangled in an impossible knot. Jimin strokes the stray hair off Jeongguk’s cheek, and feels the guilt for waking him up. He didn’t need to know right now, they still had time. With a sigh, he nuzzles into the pillow and falls asleep to the rhythmic breathing beside him.
In the morning, Jeongguk doesn’t ask about 3 AM.