Jump-then-Fall

When Jumin first met you he’d noticed a few things. Of course several of those being your constant kindness, patience, and support of him. Jumin would never quite be able to express just how much that meant to him – how much you meant to him. 

However, he’d also noticed another, peculiar trait of yours. Your active imagination.

He’d never met someone whose mind wandered like yours did. They weren’t the prodding, incessant comments of 707 or ramblings from Yoosung to avoid his work. No, you just… thought about a variety of things. 

It’d first occurred during the afternoon, while Jumin was working. He’d just gotten out of a meeting, looking at the overview just to refresh his mind before he returned to his emails when you called. 

“Hi honey!” Your voice was a cheerful welcome to the otherwise monotonous day he’d been experiencing. “Would you help me with something?” 

Jumin chuckled. “Of course.” 

He’d assumed it’d be deciding your upcoming meal or an activity you’d planned for that afternoon. Something of a usual sort you could tell him about when he came home that evening. Instead, he got something, far different. 

“Do you think dinosaurs had feelings?” 

Jumin sat there a moment, stunned. “Do I… what?” 

You giggled softly. “I know it’s weird but I can’t get it out of my head! Probably because last time 707 visited he made me watch a bunch of dinosaur documentaries.” 

“Why did he do that?” 

“Because he cried watching one of the episodes late one night and wanted someone else to ‘know his pain’.” 

A grin tugged at Jumin’s lips. “That’s not very nice.” 

“No, but it got me thinking! Throughout the show whenever something bad happened the dinosaurs did look sort of sad! And I know they’re just animated, but do you think actual dinosaurs had feelings?” 

Jumin actually considered the question, moving aside his papers and thumping his fingers against the desk in thought. “I mean surely nothing beyond pure instincts, don’t you think?” 

“I thought that too but they do have complex behaviors – the documentaries said they did nesting, raised their young, and a lot of them traveled in packs! That’s got to mean something right?” 

Jumin leaned back in his seat. “In a sense, but plenty of animals do that today, and we don’t consider them to have complex emotions.” 

You laughed and Jumin could hear you falling against pillows. “Fair enough. Not everyone can be like Elizabeth 3rd.” She meowed at the mention of her name. 

“It’s an unfortunate fact.” 

A moment afterward you switched to the next topic that’d come to your mind. It was about the most interesting fact you’d learned about milk not actually being a pleasant drink for cats. Jumin had scribbled that somewhere in his notes for further research. Perhaps milk healthy for cats could be produced?

He found himself so caught up in your constant flow of thoughts he delayed a meeting, only realizing it was actually important when Jahee approached his desk and tapped the names upon the clipboard, urgently. 

“Oh. Thank you, it entirely slipped my mind.” Jumin brought the phone back up to his ear. “Can we continue this conversation when I get home? It should be just after this meeting.” 

“Of course!” You gasped, realizing the time that’d passed. “Can you tell Jahee I’m sorry for keeping you distracted?” 

She must’ve heard you over the phone because she simply nodded, failing to hide the tiniest smile on her fact upon you mentioning her name. 

“I’ll be sure to. I love you.” 

You softened. “I love you too.” 

Jumin came back home when the oranges, reds, and purples clearly painted the skies with the arrival of dusk. You were staring at the old culinary books Jumin’s grandmother had passed down to him years and years ago. He hardly used it, unless he wanted to burn down his home, but it held sentimental value. You weren’t an experienced chef by any means, but you’d taken up the difficult task of teaching Jumin – so far his most elaborate dish being macaroni. 

“Are we trying out a new recipe?” Jumin asked, approaching the dinner table where you sat. Your eyes scanned continuously from page to page and your index finger glided along with the pictures. He set a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to press a kiss on your head. 

You sat up with a faint ‘oh!’, turning around to face him. “I’m so sorry I just got completely lost in thought!” You scrambled to your feet, and Jumin chuckled at the display. Although he wasn’t opposed to the kisses you peppered him with. 

“What were you wondering?” He asked, having to fight against falling against you when you parted. 

“Well!” You tapped the pages of the old book. “Yoosung texted me after we got off the phone, asking if he should cook something or bake something, and I didn’t entirely get the difference, so I thought I’d look in these books!” 

“Did you find your answer?” 

You tipped your head from side to side. “Sort of, but it also just led to more questions?” 

Jumin sat down beside you and you told it all to him. At times you’d even talk a bit too fast for him to keep up, apologizing embarrassedly when Jumin would simply admit it was charming. He adored your excitement. 

Apparently, when you’d read in the books that cooking was “a method of preparing food by using heat,” while baking was “a method of preparing food by also using heat,” you were at least a little dumbfounded. 

Yoosung had said ‘there’s some difference but it’s not like I really know!’ 

So, without any other option, you took to the internet. The most ‘credible’ website you’d come across stated one was considered art while the other a science. That had only furthered your pit of confusion. 

“Why is cooking an art but baking a science? Why is there a difference?” You wrinkled your nose, huffing.

“There’s nothing in the books?” Jumin asked.

“Nothing! One question from Yoosung has ruined me!” 

Jumin grinned. “Down a rabbit hole are we?” 

“You’d want to join me?” 

He leaned forward, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket almost how one would roll up their sleeves. It was… vaguely dramatic. “You say that like I’d rather do anything else.” 

It never surprised you how long you could keep yourself distracted. 

Apparently, cooking was considered art because one could change the measurements and ingredients to one’s own will. Baking, on the other hand, was science for its need for accuracy. 

“That seems subjective,” Jumin remarked, staring at your phone screen where the website shined. “We baked that cake last month and didn’t follow the recipe exactly.”

“Didn’t it burn and taste like cardboard?” 

Jumin paused. “I – some people might like cardboard.” 

“You included?” 

“That would make sense given my abilities.” 

You took his hand and squeezed his palm, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “I love your cardboard cakes.” 

He never entirely wiped the smile that brought to his face. 

However, chaos ensued again in the home when the topic of ‘baking versus broiling’ appeared. How one could even compare the broiling of meat with the baking of pastries made you contemplate the concept of baking as a whole. And then the concept of concepts. It was a fascinating spiral. 

Jumin found himself simply listening as you raved, one hand held in your own and the other holding his chin. He’d never met someone so prone to contemplation. Usually, Jumin shoved all unnecessary thoughts to the back of his head but you not only accepted them you welcomed them. It brought out some of the most passion and enthusiasm Jumin had ever seen in someone. 

“Cute…” 

You paused in your tirade. You stared at Jumin with eyes widening to the size of saucers. “What?” 

“It’s cute, seeing you so impassioned. I always enjoy hearing your voice but I rarely witness you so riled up. It’s adorable.” 

You’d stopped dead in your tracks, red quickly taking over your cheeks. You ducked your head away in embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to hide.” Jumin chuckled. “We’re married!” 

“I know I just-” You turned back to him and revealed a smile stretching from ear to ear. “that makes me really happy – you make me really happy.” 

You were the only one who made it so easy to melt his heart. A gentle warmth like a candle flickered to life in his chest. Jumin brought your chairs even closer together – the faintest ‘clack’ of the seats as they bumped.