𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰

Jimin, like any hopeless romantic, thought his first kiss would mean something. He thought he would get it at the age of 12 after watching Little Manhattan. When that didn’t happen, he thought he would get it at 16, just like all the characters in the shows and movies he watched. When at 25, the boy he thought would give him his first kiss had instead run circles around him and confused him to no end only for said boy to run back to his ex-girlfriend, Jimin he had enough. Even Drew Barrymore’s character in Never Been Kissed got kissed at 25. But when he turned 26, still with virgin lips, Jimin was seething. He didn’t want the perfect kiss anymore. He just wanted to be kissed. Period. 

He was, in short, desperate. 

The funny thing about life is that sometimes, when you’ve given up, that’s when things start to fall into place. And even though Jimin had given up his fantasy of a kiss that would change him, a first kiss that mattered, his first kiss still mattered and did in fact change him. 

Just not in the way he thought he would be changed. Not in the way that he finally found the love of his life. Not in the holding-hands-into-the-sunset-until-the-credits-rolled. Not in the everything-makes-sense-now. But in the way that he had let himself do things he wouldn’t normally do like dye his hair blonde. Or get piercings, two on each of his ears, and contemplating on getting a fifth one. 

It’s like the experience, although mostly unconscious and rushed, had opened a gate for him. If he can kiss strangers, he can do almost anything. And he wants to know how far he can go. That’s why on a bright, sunny, afternoon he’s sitting in a tattoo parlor with Taehyung who doesn’t even plan on getting a tattoo. The same way he didn’t plan on getting piercings but happily accompanied Jimin anyways. He even helped Jimin pick out his earrings after and it was a unanimous decision that the silver ones looked best. But not in the same way that he had told Jimin he was just coming with him to the salon only to find him later strapped to a chair, impulsively coloring his hair a solid red. It suited him though. 

They were talking noisily in the small waiting room that smelled like a spa which, Jimin supposes and tells Taehyung, is meant to calm you down either as the person getting the tattoo, or the person waiting, hearing the buzzing of the gun from behind the light purple curtain. The place was mostly white, with a light wood accents on the reception table and waiting chairs. There were a few framed photos of tattoo artist’s work. All different styles from delicate strokes of flowers to hardcore big ones like a lion that looked like it was going to jump from the skin it was tattooed on. It wasn’t what Jimin had expected a tattoo parlor would look like as the movies showed it but Taehyung supplies that it’s probably because Jimin was too excited and couldn’t wait until nighttime to get his tattoo. It might have looked different in the night.

“There’s those neon light on the ceilings, Jimin-ah.” Taehyung points upwards and Jimin’s gaze follows. 

“You’re right, it probably looks different in the night.” Jimin says just as the buzzing of the gun stopped. They hear a muffled conversation and some movement behind the curtain. Then it swings open to show the artist, pulling out his gloves and typing something on the tablet that was left on the reception table. His presence makes Jimin and Taehyung stop talking. The artist looked like an Adonis. He had broad shoulders and a small waist, wearing a black tanktop that showed off his muscular arms with one arm completed covered in tattoos. Jimin wants to say he’s staring because he’s fascinated by all the art of his arm but there were other things too like his chest that was well sculpted. He was playing with his lip ring as he typed away on the tablet with furrowed brows that were framed by his mullet. 

They’ve probably already committed a crime by staring too long but the artist seems unfazed. Their gazes only leave him when the client comes out as well, which only emphasized how god-like the artist was. The client looked like he worked an office job. He was tall and lanky with sharp features. He wore a jacket over his plain shirt and had on slacks so Jimin couldn’t tell where he put his tattoo which is perfect. Jimin also doesn’t want his first tattoo to be easily seen. Maybe his third one. He’ll make it more visible. But for this first one, it’s just for him. 

The man pays for the service and then bows. Once he’s walked out and whatever the artist was typing away in the tablet was done, he looks at both Jimin and Taehyung, which startles them both because he’s eyes looked like it held galaxies. 

“Which one of you is Park Jimin?”

Jimin raises his hand as Taehyung points at him. 

The artist nods and says, “I’m Jungkook. I’ll be your tattoo artist for today. First time?”

Jimin nods. 

Jungkook presses things on his tablet again and then lifts it up to show Jimin the design he had sent when he booked this session. 

“It’s this one right? Do you already know where you want it?”

“Uhm…” Jimin touches the area where his ribs are, “...here.”

Jungkook nods. Their interaction is so tense and Jimin doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the lack of words coming from Jungkook or all the excitement Jimin had felt suddenly turned into fear. Regardless, he was shaking his leg up and down now and wonders if it’s too late to back out. 

“I’ll just prepare the set-up and I’ll call you in.” Jungkook calls Jimin and then turns to Taheyung, “You can stay inside and watch if you like.” Then, he walks behind the curtain.

Taehyung beams and then whispers to Jimin, “I wonder what he looks like at night.” Jimin nudges him with his elbow and scowls. 

He loudly whispers, “Behave.” To which Taheyung mouths, “He’s hot.”

Jimin mouths back, “I know.”

“Jimin-ssi, you can come in now.”

“And me right?” Taehyung asks as he stands. Jungkook nods. 

When they’re all behind the curtain, Jimin sees a black lounging chair and a stool with wheels, which is probably where Jungkook stays. There’s another chair the back corner where Taehyung, without being told, moves to sit down, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Your shirt.” Jungkook says.

“My shirt?” Jimin asks.

“Take it off.”

“Why?”

Jungkook furrows his brows.

“Ah yeah, for the ta-” Jimin mumbles as he takes his shirt off, “ta-tattoo. Right. Yes.” He hears Taehyung snicker and he shoots daggers at him with his eyes but it doesn’t stop him. He just covers his face. Jimin rolls his eyes and moves to lie down of the lounging chair. He feels very vulnerable being topless in front of a very beautiful man who reaches out and touches the area beneath his chest which sends instant goosebumps on his skin.

“Here, right?”

“Yes…” Jimin says but it comes out as a whisper. 

“Okay, “ Jungkook takes his hand off Jimin and tinkers around with his tools, wearing a new pair of gloves. He seats himself on the stool and then says, “Let me know if it gets too painful. We can take breaks, especially since this one’s big.”

“That’s what he said,” Taehyung says and Jimin whines.

“Tae, you’re staying outside!” Jimin says as he sits up and throws his hands at the direction of the waiting room. 

“No! I promise! That was the last!”

“Are you guys together?” Jungkook asks.

“NO!” They say it at the same time and a bit too loud, eyes both blown wide. 

Jungkook simply nods, looking from Taehyung to Jimin.

“Okay, well let me know if you’re ready to start.”

“I’m ready.” Jimin says as he settles himself again on the lounge chair. 

It comes as a shock to everyone that Jimin didn’t ask for any breaks even though Jungkook kept asking him every now and then. Jimin, surprising himself as well, finds that the pain is tolerable. He can feel it and he knows a needle with ink is being punctured into his skin, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe it was the spa smell helping him along. Or that the buzz somehow lulls him and makes him empty his mind. The only time they had to pause was so that Jimin could change positions to lie on his side so that Jungkook could finish the rest of the tattoo that climbed up on to the side of his ribs.

When he was done and patched up, Jungkook told him that it was weird that he hadn’t taken any breaks. 

“You know the ribs are the most painful part right?”

“Yeah,” Jimin shrugs. “I did some research on it but I really wanted it there.”

Jungkook nods. Jimin’s starting to get used to his silence. It was unnerving at first but it’s probably more because he looked too pretty ot be real. Now, it just feels calming. Like he’s always contemplating about things. Absorbing things. After a beat, he nods towards the full length mirror.

“Go check it out.”

Jimin stands and he can already see it from afar. The words etched on his skin. He breaks out into a wide smile.

“I love it.” He touches the areas around it. His skin still a little red. 

“You have a very high pain tolerance.” Jungkook comments without looking at him. He’s removing his gloves and fixing his set-up, closing the ink jars he had used and wiping down some of his equipment. 

“Thanks, I guess?” Jimin says to Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

Taehyung slides up next to him and says, “But a very low tolerance for alcohol. Am I right?”

“Shut up!” But Jimin’s smiling. 

“It really looks good, Jimin-ah.” Taehyung admires, holding Jimin’s shirt out to him.

“Do you plan on getting more, Jimin-ssi?” Jungkook asks, watching their reflections in the mirror. Jimin turns to him and catches the way Jungkook looks at Jimin up and down. Maybe wondering where else Jimin would put a tattoo.

“Yeah…but not anytime soon. I want to uhm…enjoy this one first?”

Jungkook nods and locks his eyes with him. He crosses his arm and leans his hip on the table. 

“Well, I hope you won’t let anyone else do your tattoos.”

“I won’t.”

꩜꩜꩜

Everybody thinks that Yoongi’s first heartbreak was Chaeyoung. 

The truth is Yoongi’s first heartbreak was his father. Ripping up his music sheets. 

He wasn’t even mad at Yoongi. It was spur of the moment, something he could grab hold to when he was once again arguing with Yoongi’s mother. Yoongi was too young to know that it wasn’t his fault. That their difference, the gaping hole that came between them, was something that existed even before Yoongi came. He was just collateral damage. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

But when you’re blinded by anger, whatever even triggered you doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Yoongi didn’t even choose to do piano lessons. It wasn’t his intention to like the hobby his mother put him in. It wasn’t his fault he had fell in love with the way he could create something out of nothing by just pressing the right combination of keys. 

It was the first time that it was hammered into his soft heart that love hurt. 

But it wouldn’t be the last. And sometimes when you’ve been hurt once, it’s a lot harder to recover from being hurt again. So even though everyone assumes Yoongi has moved on because he’s no longer downing alcohol like water or spending nights out with strangers, or lashing out at any chance he gets or disappearing for months, doesn’t mean the pain has subsided. Doesn’t mean he isn’t forever changed by it.

It comes for him at random times nowadays. It comes in waves, drowning him and he feels like he can’t breathe. Nothing really triggers it. He actually thinks it comes when he least expects it, when he’s too happy, or too calm, when his mind has enough time to slow down and process things. Then his chest would hurt and everything comes back to him all at once: the guilt, the anger, the betrayal. 

The worst part is that the farther the gaps between these moments, the more painful it became because he would think he would be fine already. He thinks it’s never gonna happen again but when it does, he’s not ready for it. He doesn’t know anymore how he got over the last one. He doesn’t know when it will end. And all feels new again. A fresh wound he has to tend to for god knows how long.

Right now, he’s having one of those moments as he’s in the middle of mixing another love song. He pushes himself off his chair and storms out to his garage. Trying to calm his breathing but he knows it won’t work. It always goes away on it’s own and never when Yoongi yields it to. He climbs on his motorcycle and wears his helmet. He starts the engine and he just goes. He rides in any direction, the wind and the helmet muffling the city’s sounds. Rides until his muscles feel sore and his mind blanks out again. Until he can breathe again. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been going at it. The night seems to extend endlessly, letting him run away for awhile. 

He stops somewhere in Gangnam where the nightlife fades out the stars in the sky. He breathes through his nose and takes off his helmet. He’s still straddling his motorcycle, one foot on the ground and the other still on top of the gas. He could hear chatter and music all around him as if it wasn’t the dead of the night. He simply people watches for awhile as he feels out his arms and legs.

When he’s about to put back his helmet and start the engine again he hears a little shouting from somewhere between the buildings. He furrows his brows and can hear someone screaming for someone to stop. Yoongi looks around him if anyone else hears but everyone is just milling around, laughing even as they stumbled from clubs to the next open establishment. 

But there it is again. It almost sounds like they’re struggling.

++++++

He doesn’t know what makes him do it but he parks his motorcycle and follows the sound. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting but whatever it was, it would be better than the scene in front of him. 

Park Jimin was almost half naked. The man, so much larger than Jimin with an uneven shaved head, had him pressed up against wall. Jimin’s shirt was ripped and his pants pooled down to his ankles. Jimin was wailing at this point, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

++++++

 And Yoongi…Yoongi saw red. There wasn’t any blood now but he was about to go seek it.

His mind, as he wanted, does go blank and he pulls the man to punch him. The surprised look on the man’s face only fueled Yoongi’s anger and he didn’t stop. He kept punching his face until he started to bleed. The man must’ve recovered from his initial shock because then he pushed back but Yoongi leaned into his anger, grabbed everything single thing that ever frustrated him and disappointed him, threw into his punches. 

The man probably thought it wasn’t worth his time and he was already bleeding from a cut on his brow that was starting to trickle on to this eyes. He scurries away as he still tries to say some insult about Jimin not in being worth it. Yoongi would have ran after him and strangled him if not for Jimin sniffling from where he stood, frozen, still. 

He looked vaguely at the space in front of him. His clothes still in a disarray.

Yoongi slowly comes up to him. He doesn’t know where to start but he’s scared to touch him. So he softly asks if he can help with his clothes. Jimin doesn’t respond. Just stares blankly ahead. 

Yoongi shifts his weight on his legs. He has to cover him up now but he understands that if he does anything too fast, Jimin might flinch and he doesn’t want to see that. 

“I’m going to pull your pants up okay?” He says it like Jimin’s four years old and he’s only teaching him how to wear clothes. 

Jimin finally nods and stares down. His tears start to fall. The droplets mark the ground. He meets Yoongi’s hands when it comes up around his waist but doesn’t do anything. Just lightly touches him. So Yoongi proceeds to button him up. 

They don’t look at each other as Yoongi shrugs out of his bomber jacket and slowly lifts Jimin’s arms to put it through the sleeves. He zips him up all the way to his neck, holding both of his arms. Jimin silently cries all throughout. When Yoongi was about to release him, sliding his hands down his arm, Jimin catches his left hand with his right. 

Slowly, other sounds come into his consciousness. One by one. Like someone is pressing one piano key at a time. One layer of sound at a time. He starts to hear the beat of his heart which sounds like a beat of a drum. A beat. A song. He holds on to it, hopes it doesn’t go away in the same instant that his lips disconnect from the other’s lips. The lack of contact makes him feel cold and he realizes his body is hot. It startles him to open his eyes and faces a boy who looks like an angel. Up close, Yoongi can see he has freckles and the canvas, his cheeks were burning red, the same color as his swollen lips. 

How long have they’ve been kissing? Who pulled away first?

Yoongi can still hear the sounds, the ringing, the beats, and a melody. He wants to hold on to it even as Jimin, at least that’s what he think the boy’s name is, is taken away by Taehyung and he can vaguely hear his cousin say something along the lines of congratulating Jimin and now he’s ready to go kiss other people.

Yoongi doesn’t waste anymore time he doesn’t have. He runs to the bar where he last saw Seokjin overseeing the bartending and finds he’s no longer there. He asks the tattooed barista named Lisa where he had gone and she points to the direction of the back room. Yoongi quickly turns and squeezes himself between bodies. He has to be fast. He’s scared it’ll slip away if he doesn’t get to his studio now. He’s not about to lose something else again. 

He sighs in relief when he finds him fixing the stock at the back room.

“Hyung!” Yoongi says a little too loud and a little more out of breath than he thinks he should be.

Seokjin startles, “Yah! Don’t do that!” He clutches his chest.

“I gotta go. But good…good job on the bar.” Yoongi puts up two thumbs up and press them forward hoping it’s enough. Seokjin just looks at him surprised with his mouth open. When he continues to be silent, Yoongi moves to hug him and then runs off shouting, “Proud of you, hyung!”

꩜꩜꩜

Jimin is being pulled away and he think he’s being spoken too but the world somehow sounds like how it does when you’re underwater. Everything’s too fuzzy, water in your ears, blurbs of sounds. Taehyung shakes him but the corners around Taehyung are still blurred but if he leans closer to Jimin he comes into focus but only for the briefest second.

“Jimin-ah! You ready to kiss the next guy?” is what Jimin hears but in actuality Taehyung says he’s ready to kiss another guy and they should starting scouting out for the next one. Jimin barely processes the next minutes of his life. He had been sitting down the whole night downing shots one after the other and now the consequences of his actions are shooting up into his brain, flowing through his bloodstream. He’s sure he goes around the bar and somehow kisses another person, and then another, and it’s all just melting into one scene after the other. He can’t really tell if its Taehyung’s doing egging him on or he’s brain has just completely shut off and it’s his body on the driver seat controlling everything.

It keeps getting worse. At first it was just looked like there were blurry borders on his vision and then the blurriness creeps up to takeover most of his view and then moments skip. He feels hands on him, chests, someone hugging him from behind. Someone hugging him from the front. Lips. Lots of lips. He doesn’t know who’s but he knows for sure it’s nothing like the first one. With the first guy who Jimin said had a permanent scowl but in the millisecond after they had kissed his facial features were relaxed, his whole facing smoothing out and he looked almost fragile. Like he was made of porcelain. 

He reaches in his mind for his name and that’s the last thought he has before he passes out. 

꩜꩜꩜

Best believe Yoongi met his deadline with flying colors (thought literally a second to spare and only because his internet chose the dramatic route and uploaded his music file a little too slowly. 

Not even a few minutes later the project manager of the EP sends him messages of how good it was and it could actually be the first single to launch the debut but Yoongi doesn’t have time for praise because he was still bursting with ideas. Even though he’s met his deadline, he still feels like he’s running out of time. Like at any moment the ideas would leave and he had to grab at it.

Honestly, he doesn’t really care for what other people’s opinions are about him and his work, whether he sent it on time or not, if they liked it or not. He knows it’s good and yeah, sometimes music takes time. Art takes time. But the only pressure he ever concedes to is the one that he has made for himself. Right now, he feels like he has to keep going, push himself, chase the high of creativity. But it doesn’t feel like the same taxing work ethic he had when he was purging his love lost. This time around, he feels like he’s fifteen again, when the first spark of passion came to life and he knew wanted to do this for the rest of his life. 

It feels familiar but also somehow different. Like when you go back to your childhood and you know these rooms, know the details of your house but it something feels off. And he knows that it’s because what triggered it now is different from what triggered it then but he doesn’t ruminate on it too long. He doesn’t think it matters. As long as he can put everything he has on his mind on the computer, on notes, on layers of sounds. 

He works all throughout at the night, unbeknownst to him that the sun has crept on him. He doesn’t have windows in his studio so he doesn’t know that its rays had start to stretch out on his neighbors and has bathed his own home. He can only tell that to some extent time is passing because his butt would hurt and he would have to alternate from standing and sitting but his fingers never left his computer nor his devices, always clicking away or tinkering over something.

It’s almost five in the afternoon when he comes up to breathe. Satisfied with his hard work. He sends out the songs to project manager and immediately walks towards his bedroom to crash. Ignoring the sun. Ignoring that it’s about to set as he falls asleep. Unconscious and completely unaware that all of his songs were love songs. 

꩜꩜꩜

Jimin’s never thought of himself lucky. Grateful, yes. Lucky, no. 

He’s a firm believer that everything he wants, he has to work hard for. But it seems that he was wrong. He’s very lucky even when he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. 

For one, how does one pass out in a bar, in front of people you barely know and kiss god knows how many people (Taehyung said five and a half, whatever that means) and comes out completely unscathed? Apparently, Jimin was “light” enough to be bridal-style-carried by Namjoon into a cab with Taehyung tagging along. They successfully got a slightly conscious Jimin to tell them the passcode of his apartment and got him safely to bed. 

Upon waking up, he sees texts from them asking how he was doing and even sending him tips to handle his hangover. He finds that they even him left him some medicines on his bedside table. He should feel like he just committed social suicide but the warmth in his chest takes over. He sends both of them his thanks and deepest apologies. Immediately, they reply that it was no problem. 

Second, as Jimin waits for the hangover to hit him, it doesn’t. He feels light headed but after drinking water and eating some ramyeon, he feels much better. He walks around his apartment, which isn’t big to begin with wondering what he had done right last night to not have had a hangover. Wonders if it was the lunch he and Taehyung ate. But he doesn’t think there was anything special about it. He doesn’t get far in his thoughts when he hears the doorbell. 

He walks towards the kitchen first and grabs his phone, checking if maybe it was Taehyung but there weren’t any new messages from him. He walks towards the door and looks through the peep hole and sees another eye. Jimin shakes his head and opens the door.

“Hello!” The man in front of him smiles brightly, greeting him in Korean. He looked like he was bursting in energy and had already five cups of coffee. Jimin greets him back and bows.

“It’s me, Jimin-ssi!”

“Ah! My landlord? Hoseok, right?” Jimin vaguely remembers that he had searched up Jung Hoseok, any social media presence just to make sure he wasn’t getting scammed on the apartment. What he remembers distinctly that his landlord did have a very strong social media presence in that he loved capturing almost anything even if it wasn’t photogenic. No matter, it seemed to be what the kids did nowadays, posting unattractive photos and slightly blurred ones but with Hoseok, he added glitter stickers or gifs. It was pretty endearing. 

“Yes! But you can call me Hobi hyung. Do you know what hyung is?”

“Ah yes,” Jimin laughs. Hobi’s energy was infectious and he can’t help but smile. “There’s actually a word for it in Filipino.”

“Oh I know that one! Kuya, correct?” This was one of the reasons why Jimin gravitated towards Hoseok. He was familiar with foreigners because he often rented out the very same apartment Jimin was currently staying in. 

Jimin nods shyly and observes that Hoseok was carrying a basket filled with fruits. The latter follows his gaze.

“Oh these are for you!” He holds them out. 

“Thank you.” Jimin says again shyly and bows. “Would you like to come in?”

“Ah no, it’s fine. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not,” Jimin laughs, “it’s your apartment!”

“Oh…Jimin-ssi, it’s your apartment.”

“Well then, I’m in inviting you in.”

Hobi looks surprised and Jimin doesn’t know why. It’s the least he can do. The apartment may be small but it was fully furnished for a price that wasn’t too steep. He even noticed that the cupboards were filled with colorful mugs and dishes, and that there was already some laundry detergent and dishwashing soap. There was also extra bed coverings and pillow cases. The apartment also came with wi-fi. Jimin’s sure Hobi didn’t need to do all of those.

“Jimin-ssi, can I tell you something? I hope it’s not offensive.”

Jimin puts down the basket on the kitchen counter and sniffs himself briefly. He did take a shower but he’s not sure if he scrubbed all of last night’s smell. 

“Sure, hyung.”

Hobi beams at this. Jimin’s not sure if it’s because Jimin allowed him to continue talking or it was because he had called him hyung. Jimin gestures for him to sit on the couch and he does. Jimin decided to sit opposite to him on the small dining area where a round table is situated with two chairs. 

“You said you haven’t been here in what sixteen? Seventeen years?”

“Yeah, seventeen.”

“But you’re Korean is still pretty good. You’ve been talking to me in Korean this whole time and I actually wouldn’t have remembered that you haven’t always lived her if I wasn’t so used to having foreigners renting this apartment. It’s kind of…” Hobi moves his hands around while looking up. 

“Weird?” Jimin supplies. 

“Nice, actually. It’s pretty cool.” Hobi smiles at him brightly again and Jimin realizes he’s like sunshine in human form.

“Oh..” Jimin blushes, “thank you.” He bows again. “I guess, I’ve been picking it up the more I stay here. It’s like…it’s coming back to me but I think I’m still going to struggle with my classes. I need to buy some language books and really study it.”

“Have you been around? I think there’s a bookstore nearby…”

Jimin scratches his head, “I’ve actually been too scared to go around a-”

“Oh! You should’ve told me! I can go around with you!” Hobi stands abruptly.

“What? Now?” Jimin also moved to slowly stand up. 

“Yeah, if you want? I have nothing else planned today. And I can show you around the cafe too, and other places like the grocery and convenience store nearby, there’s also like a place where you can rent bikes. Have you gotten a metro card?”

Jimin shakes his head. 

“Oh you poor thing. Well, hyung’s here. Let’s go, Jimin-ssi!”

Yes, Jimin thinks. He’s definitely very lucky. 

Doesn’t know how he convinces himself to walk out the door with a recurring thought that this was insane. Doesn’t know how gets on the right train and finds himself in front of the dive bar which was named after the Korean word for moon. Doesn’t know how he found the courage (or call it stupidity) to walk in. Doesn’t know how Taehyung even finds him almost immediately like fate didn’t give him enough time to bail. 

This might be what quarter life crises do to you. You just don’t know anymore. You hit a dead end and suddenly, all roads are a possibility. Suddenly, you’re just supposed to say yes to everything. 

“Are you ok?” Taehyung asks and Jimin suddenly feels very conscious. He must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights even though he was trying his best to look cool. He chose a silk shirt that glimmered when light hit it and very tight pants. He only has Pinterest as his source of fashion inspiration. He had hoped it would be enough. 

“Yeah” he says quieter than he intended. 

Taehyung laughs and doesn’t look like he believes him but he doesn’t say so out loud. Instead, he guides Jimin to where his friends are and for the rest of the night, Jimin in fact, does not get murdered. He has the time of his life.

The group welcomes him like he was someone they hadn’t seen in a long time. In the Philippines, they had a word for it called balikbayan, which is two words put together: balik, meaning “to return” and bayan which could mean either a country, city, or a town. Jimin feels like that word encapsulates exactly how he feels with Taehyung and his friends, like he’s been there before and is simply returning. Maybe it has a lot to do with the fact that he doesn’t really need to talk with the music loudly playing. He doesn’t need words to clink glasses, to cheer on someone to finish their drink, to get pulled on the dance floor, to dance to the beat of the music. 

He doesn’t even need to speak to any bartenders as the drinks keep coming to their table. 

Jimin wonders if it’s always this easy. If it was, he would have done this sooner. Been more braver but at least he did so now. 

As the night wore on, he notices that slowly their group becomes sparse until he’s only left with a guy named Namjoon. The man was taller than Jimin and wider, too. He wore a huge shirt and baggy jeans with a beanie on. If he wore anything else, he would probably look terrifying and could punch Jimin’s lights out but now he just kind of looks huggable. Jimin leans towards him and asks where everybody went. 

“They’re just around, probably making out with somebody…,” he says as he bops his head to the beat of the music. 

Jimin looks around and does find that some of his company were off in dark corners lip locking with some people had seen around the bar.

“Do they know them?” Jimin asks innocently. Namjoon simply shakes his head and then grins at him with either amusement or the kind of look you have when you see a puppy trying to walk around. Jimin can’t tell the difference.

“You don’t do this kind of stuff, huh?” 

“What stuff?”

Namjoon shrugs, “Make out with people?”

“Not really…” Jimin contemplates on whether he should tell Namjoon that he’s never kissed anyone period. Not even a peck but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea especially since the current climate doesn’t really call for a very vulnerable fact about yourself. He’d have to explain why he’s never been kissed and that’s just too complicated for a night out with people he’s just met. 

So he opts to twist the truth. Just a bit. It won’t hurt anyone.

 “Not like this…in a bar or whatever.”

“That’s cool, you don’t have to do it, man!” Namjoon pats him on the back. Jimin notices then that Namjoon had been speaking to him in English the whole time and that he sounds like the character Mark Ruffalo plays in the movie 13 Going on 30. 

“Is that why you don’t do it?”

“Nah, I mean…I have a boyfriend so. I used to…I used to…but yeah. I’m kinda whipped for my man.” He smiles at the floor either shy or recalling something, or both.

“Is he here?” Jimin looks around.

“Yeah, you met him. Jin hyung? He’s the tall guy, broad shoulders…” Namjoon gestures to what Jin’s physique looks like and Jimin recalls having met briefly a very handsome man in a button up and a rolex.

Namjoon continues, “He owns the bar,” gesturing now to the place. 

“Oh cool!”

“Yeah, I actually…” Namjoon looks around. “I should go and find him, he’s been gone for awhile now…probably getting stressed out. Opening night, you know? Will you be okay if I?”

“Yes! Yeah, go ahead. And you can tell him he’s doing a good job! Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.” Jimin gives him a thumbs up and a tight smile, and immediately regrets it. That felt very uncool of him. 

But Namjoon smiles at him warmly, his eyes disappearing and it’s in place a deep dimple on his cheek. “Thanks, Jimin. It was nice meeting you.” He pats him on his back one last time and then vanishes into the ground. 

“You too, Namjoon.”

In an instant, the high of the night plummets to his chest and Jimin feels like an outsider again. It’s not Namjoon’s fault. He does have to attend to his boyfriend and really, it’s not because Taehyung and his friends have deserted him but the age old wish Jimin’s had since he was four years old comes back to him in a tidal wave. 

Oh to have someone to kiss and call your boyfriend. He could only imagine. He’s only ever had to imagine. It’s hard to ignore that he’s always wanted it when everyone seems to get it so easily but him. He watches, thinking he’s a little bit of a creep doing so, but who cares. He watches others falling into other people’s arms easily. How do you just find someone to kiss? How do you find someone to love? If it were easy, Jimin would have had it by now. But it’s not and he doesn’t even know if it will ever happen to him. Ever. 

His thoughts to consume and he hates it. When it starts, its hard to stop. It’s hard to remove the loneliness and so he clings on to the alcohol, still being served to their now empty table and Jimin knows he’s going to regret this tomorrow but for now, he just doesn’t want to think. So he drinks and drinks. 

The next morning, he realizes that he doesn’t know how he got home. 

꩜꩜꩜

Yoongi’s been riding his motorcycle all over Seoul, even the remote parts where there were more trees than people. He didn’t even know such places exist.

It’s been a couple of days since he decided to let himself out to try and get some inspiration. It helped unloosen a tight chest he didn’t know he had but had absolutely nothing to help him come up with a new sound and the deadline has come for him. Yoongi only has 24 hours until he either calls it quits or submits something but if there was one thing Yoongi was, it was stubborn and he refuses to give up until he has no choice. Not until the clock strikes. 

He comes home a little after the sun has set and sees his cousin sitting on the front of his house. 

“What? They kick you out of your building already?”

Taehyung clicks his tongue and says, “Nice to see you too, hyung.” He stands up as Yoongi walks past him to open the gate of his house and Taehyung follows closely behind, scared that his older cousin would slam the door on his face. If Yoongi was stubborn, Taehyung was nothing but persistent and he was on a mission tonight. 

“So?” Yoongi shrugs out of his leather jacket, not bothering to look at his cousin. 

“I didn’t get kicked out!” Taehyung says exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. 

“Why are you here then?”

“It’s your birthday.”

Oh. Yoongi didn’t even notice. He wasn’t really a birthday person to begin with which was one of the many things he argued about with Chaeyeon, who loved birthdays, especially her own. She loved dates. Loved Valentine’s, White Day, Christmas, New Year’s, Chilseok, Chuseok, anniversaries, you name it. And Yoongi understood. He understood that yearly events were special but sometimes he thinks the best moments are the ones you never saw coming. But so were the bad things. You never put a date on the bad things. 

“Hyung?”

Yoongi looks up at Taehyung and wonders how long he’s been there. How long was Yoongi silent? He still gets like this every now and then, spacing out and recalling random information from his time with Chaeyeon. Over the years it’s lessened but the pain doesn’t. It seems the longer Yoongi doesn’t think about her, about them, the harder the punch in the gut when it comes back to him all of a sudden. 

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks and all of a sudden he close to Yoongi and wraps his arm around his shoulders and rubs his arm. Yoongi gathers himself and purses his lips. 

“Yeah. If you’re done greeting, you can see yourself out.” Yoongi walks out of Taehyung’s grasps and moves to the kitchen to get some water. He suddenly feels like his throat is closing up on him. 

“Noooo, hyuuuung, we’re going out!” Taehyung whines and runs after him. 

“No, you’re going out.”

“No. We’re” Taehyung points to him and then himself, “Going out because we’re celebrating 

your birthday you old man!” He pokes Yoongi’s chest and it kind of hurts so Yoongi has to rub on the spot and grimaces. 

“And! You missed Jin hyung’s opening.” Taehyung crosses his arms and pouts at him. 

“Oh fuck, when was it?”

“Like…a couple of days ago.”

Yoongi lets out a long curse. “He’s gonna eat me alive isn’t he?”

“Skin you and filet you, yup!” Taehyung flips an imaginary flying pan and his gaze follows an 

imaginary fish he had flung up. Yoongi massages his temples. His hyung doesn’t really ask for much. He’s usually the first to let Yoongi get some space or sit quietly with him when everyone wanted to console him or give him advice after everything fell through but it was Jin who sat with him in silence, waited for him patiently to open up. He doesn’t care if Yoongi doesn’t respond to his calls or his messages, but Yoongi knows when he’s fucked up and should’ve been there for the people he loves. The few people who still tolerates him and cares for him. 

“Get out.”

“Wha-why? Hyung-” Taehyung’s eyes grow into saucers. 

“I’m gonna get changed. I’ll met you there.” Yoongi herds him towards the door and even though Taehyung is taller than him and bigger than him, he shuffles backwards. 

“Can’t I ride with you?”

“I don’t have a car.”

“No, on your bike.”

“No.” He says resolutely. 

“Fine!” Taehyung relents and faces the direction of where they’re going which was outside onto the street. He holds the gate that Yoongi is about to close. 

“Promise you’re coming?”

“I promise.” Yoongi smiles sweetly before he slams his door. 

꩜꩜꩜

Jimin didn’t know he told Taehyung that he wanted to kiss someone. He’s at least grateful that his drunken self didn’t disclose that he had never kissed anyone. There was still some loyalty there but he had called Taehyung up at god knows what time to ask him how he does it. How does he find someone to kiss and even got into the nitty gritty details of how he can come up to someone and ask them to kiss him. Does he just pucker his lips? Does he just lean it? Does he ask politely? How do you know which ones want to be kissed? What if they’re like Namjoon and had a boyfriend? 

Jimin doesn’t know how much truth was in Taehyung’s recollection of Jimin’s call to him but it’s enough to think he just committed social suicide. And what better way to continue this trainwreck he’s already on but to go drinking with Taehyung again. Jimin promises himself not to drink as much but his nerves are getting to him and the fact that Taehyung was on set on getting Jimin to kiss someone that night only made it worse. He keeps whispering to Jimin that “He’s got this. I’ll tell you who to kiss and we just go!”

“Go?”

“Yeah. You’re up for it?”

Jimin wants to say no but he’s not supposed to. At the back of his head, he knows he wants this. He wants to try this. He wants to be brave. He came here to push past his comfort zone and to say no now? He’s barely been here and he’s already calling it quits. He takes another shot and swallows. The vodka burns his throat and he thinks he needs another one. He holds another shot to his lips and looks at Taehyung. He nods before downing the drink. 

They’re back again in Jin’s bar and the usual people showed up. There’s just one other person that Jimin doesn’t recall was there the other night. He looks just around Jimin’s height and he would describe him as looking dainty with the way the lights hit his face and makes him glow but he has a permanent glower that he came with and never seemed to leave no matter what music played or what conversations happened around him. He mostly spoke to Namjoon who doesn’t seem to notice the other’s mood. He just kept laughing and patting his thigh. If Jimin’s being honest, he’s terrified of him and hasn’t even tried to look his way the whole night. 

Taehyung pulls his face with both his hand to face him head on. 

“You promise you’ll kiss anyone I tell you to?”

“Yes.” Jimin says automatically. He’s definitely drunk. 

Taehyung nods and releases his face. “Okay. Good.” Taehyung looks around and sticks out his tongue in thought. “Let’s start easy…why don’t you kiss…”

Jimin’s heart is beating so fast he think he’s going to combust. What the actual fuck was he doing? He takes another shot. Which is probably not a good idea but still. He was freaking out but he wants to do this. He doesn’t know what point he’s trying to prove but somehow, some part of his brain is telling to keep going. Keep toeing the line. He’s guessing it’s not the part of his brain the controls impulse. 

“Yoongi hyung.”

“No.” Jimin says immediately while at the same time the guy who Jimin is very scared of looks towards Taehyung’s directions and says “what?” in Korean. 

Taehyung looks at Jimin in disappointment, “You said anyone!” He turns to Yoongi and says something in Korean and Jimin’s found out he has a hard time understanding Taehyung’s Korean because it’s still heavily accented from living in Daegu. But that wasn’t the only barrier. 

It’s the fact that Jimin can hear ringing in his ears and probably the alcohol isn’t helping. He faintly hears Yoongi say no.

“See! He doesn’t want. Let’s look for someone nicer.” Jimin blurts out. He freezes. Oh fuck.

“Hey!”

“Yoongi hyung’s nice.” Taehyung defends him and he hears Yoongi rattle off something to 

Taehyung about what’s wrong with his friend. Jimin watches him and quickly locks eyes with him before he turns away. His glower still pasted on his face. Jimin thinks that in that brief second that Yoongi has really nice eyes which isn’t the right time to be thinking that because the man might possibly hate his guts now. 

“I’m nice,” Yoongi says in English. 

“I bet you are,” Jimin swallows and clasps his hands together, “But…you don’t want to kiss me so…Taehyung,” he nudges him, “let’s look for someone else” hoping his last word would translate to Taehyung as in now. Change topic now.

“I’ll kiss you.”

Blood seems to drain out of Jimin’s body and into his face. He’s so sure he’s red as beets and he swallows, hoping no one heard Yoongi and that this was all just a fever dream. Maybe he can pretend he doesn’t understand but Yoongi said it in English. Was it too late to pretend he doesn’t know English? Could he still convince everyone he only knows Filipino. Wala akong alam, he wants to scream. He doesn’t know anything. Doesn’t know what’s happening.

But it’s too late because Taehyung is clapping and pulling Jimin up and shuffling him towards Yoongi. Jimin takes a deep breath which was a mistake because he inhales some of Yoongi’s musk and he kinds of smells like baby powder and whiskey. He doesn’t understand how that works and it’s kind of alluring. It’s so alluring that Jimin actually starts leaning towards him. They’re a breath away and Jimin whispers, “You don’t have to.” He’s surprised because he says it in Korean. 

“I want to” is the last thing Yoongi says before he leans and Jimin closes his eyes. The first thought in his head was Yoongi’s lips were really soft and if he had known kisses felt these way, he would’ve always said to strangers. He would’ve always said yes to Yoongi. 

The pressure suddenly eases and Jimin thinks it’s about to end but Yoongi’s barely detaches itself from Jimin’s lips before he closes in again in another angle that makes him open his mouth a little and he doesn’t know how it happens but Yoongi’s tongue slips in, meeting his. He can taste the whiskey and can smell it. Suddenly he can’t hear anything that’s going around him. He can only feel. Feel lips soft, tongues searching. 

It feels like magic, Jimin thinks. He feels the way the movie 13 Going on 30 showed the sparkles flowing down from the wishing dust and Jenna Rink kept reciting “thirty, flirty, and thriving…thirty, flirty, and thriving…” Jimin feels like he’s going to be taken away and he’ll wake up different. 

It’s not like he’s slacking. He’s basically locked himself in his studio and isolated himself from all his family and friends, putting his phone on perpetual silent mode. He promised himself he wasn’t leaving the studio until he could give them at least one song. Then he bargained again when it took him a week to even decide on which instruments to use. Okay, he thought. I won’t go out until I at least have a verse and a chorus. 

When still, no amount of self-persuasion brought him closer to creating anything, he’s final plea was to at least to come up with a hook. It doesn’t have to be long. Just something to start with. A spark to light up the whole thing. 

He’s barely slept and probably has more caffeine in his bloodstream than actual white and red blood cells to keep him going. He’s washed his face raw from all those nights forcing himself to awake. He’s gone through several hoodies and shirts, his laundry barely piling up because he doesn’t change much. He’s confused days and times as they melt into each other. Burning away like a kerosene lamp. Burning away his time. The deadline coming up to him with its out stretched claws. 

It wasn’t always this hard. It’s never been this hard. He’s always poured out music like an exhale, found beats that were just as natural as his own pulse. 

When his world turned upside down four years ago, he feared for his craft. He thought then, broken hearted and vulnerable, he would have no motivation to keep going. That the loss would consume him and nothing else mattered. It did consume him but it also fueled him and he had never been more productive in his life. He may have worked himself out a little too much but it validated the pain he felt inside. His actual tired body holding hands with the regret, the disappointment, and the feelings of betrayal. Then, he would be too tired to think. It was the perfect set-up. 

Now that the pain has subsided to a numbness, Yoongi is also void of any sort of inspiration. He should’ve known, anyways. Life’s been warning him that all good things come to an end. When there’s is an up, there is a down and the higher you go, the farther you fall. The brighter the lights, the darker the shadows. 

He’s rummaged through all kinds of sounds he’s saved in his library, tinkered with the many pianos and guitars he owns. He stopped learning how to play the drums awhile back but he reached for it in desperation. He even tried to create his own sounds with the random things in his house, which may have been the mistake as to why his mixes are sounding more like kindergarten than someone who’s been producing for almost half of his life. He’s tried listening to other music, toying around with their sounds hoping inspiration would come to him but nothing. He’s going insane. 

He lets out a loud curse. He stands abruptly from his chair, which causes it to roll away and crash against his coffee table. He paces around his studio. Hands twisting at his hair. He needs to get out now. Besides, if there’s one thing Yoongi has learned is that promises are really there for breaking. 

꩜꩜꩜

Jimin’s feeling much better now, thank you very much. 

Of course the breakdown was expected and of course he needed to talk to his mom again before he braved this new world even though technically, he’s been here. Not here here. Jimin’s family used to live in Busan and he had only taken trips to Seoul every now and then. Trips he can’t even remember. But Jimin’s not quite ready for his hometown yet. Baby steps. One insane decision at a time. He’s not trying to unravel years of underlying issues. He can do that in class. In the safety of his professors’ presence where unearthing his past would just be another requirement he’d get an A in. 

He had graduated from a business course in the hopes of catching a lot of cash. Grabbing at the kind of life his younger self had always dreamed of. It worked for awhile. He got the cash. He helped out his family but he was still empty. Still lost. Still feeling like something was missing until those feelings turned into resentment and then utter suffering at having to wake up another day to a job who kept telling him he was easily replaceable. That no matter his honors and the hours he rendered, he was just another pawn on the chessboard. It was dehumanizing.

So, he sought for something human. Something more kind and maybe, he could hit two birds with one stone and learn to be kind to himself. He had applied to several schools but the one he had chosen was a master’s in art psychological counseling at Yonsei University. He had other choices but this one had offered him full scholarship as long as he kept his grades up, which wasn’t a problem because Jimin lived all his life as a goody two shoes, top of the class, teacher’s pet. He’d like to say he’s smart, that’s how he does well in school, but he’s not. He just works really hard and has ingrained into his mind that getting good grades was the only thing he could do to give back to his mother.

That was then. He eventually was able to actually pay her back, with actual monetary value although, she shied away from it every time. Her love language was never gifts but Jimin wanted her to experience all the love languages. But now that he’s accomplished that, he wonders if he would still feel the same. Would he have the same motivation? Would he be the same boy who graduated from college with latin honors? Or would that also turn dim like so many of the shining stars Jimin used to believe mattered. 

He takes in the scenery, the perfectly manicured lawns. The shrubs cut in precision, each one looking exactly the same as the others. He stares up at the school’s exterior, stoned buildings with the garden shamelessly consuming it like it’s their territory. Jimin thinks it looks romantic, like it could be a castle in some far off land. He’s seen the photos but they don’t do it justice. You have to actually see the light of the sun reflect on the windows and the dew on the leaves, smell fresh air as if the school wasn’t part of the bustling city of Seoul. Even the wind feels different, like it has small sparkles being carried with it. 

Jimin thought it would be harder, knowing he’s practically abandoned the language he was born into, but it comes to him like little hiccups. He’d say it’s like riding a bike but it’s a bit more rocky than that, like he knows he can balance the bike, he just keeps jiggling. He can pick most of the words he hears from the chatter of the students and some school staff as he wanders through the campus a whole two hours before his orientation. He’s gotten by with the simple thank yous and excuse mes he’s had to use while commuting around but he knows it’s not enough. At some point, he has to converse. Even worse, his classes are in Korean. He knew that, coming into this but it doesn’t make it less daunting. One insane decision at a time.

He takes a deep breath. He’s psyching himself out. Orientation first, he thinks, then we’ll panic later. 

꩜꩜꩜

Jimin’s seated at the aisle, closer to the exit than he had intended. He wanted to sit closer, a better view, like he always does for any class back in the Philippines. Even for his driving school he had sat front and center, taking advantage of the hard earned money used to pay for whatever classes. But this time, his fears take over. He’s scared that the speaker might go around, look at their faces, and what if he gets called? He hasn’t the right words nor the proper language for it yet. So as much as he would like to take advantage of this orientation, he sits, at the back, pen and paper out. 

They’re half way through discussing the different requirements needed to graduate when someone blocks his view, trying to fit himself beside Jimin. He had put his bag there since no one had sat there as the room was getting filled and now he hastily tries to pick up all his stuff, some of if it falling to the floor. Whoever this was did not have the courtesy to say excuse me or be on time, but thought to help pick up the falling items which only led to them bumping their head on Jimin’s.

“Ow!” 

Jimin sits up and rubs his head, grimacing. The other boy finally unfolds himself, holding Jimin’s notebook. This school must actually be from a fairytale story because his seatmate looks like a prince with his blonde wavy hair cascading on his face like dominoes. Jimin closes his mouth, he didn’t even realize it was open and rips his gaze away from the boy, who, Jimin thinks is speaking to him in his low voice. 

Jimin looks at him again and the boy simply smiles. He looks like he could be Jimin’s age but you could never tell with asians. Jimin purses his lips and looks down, trying to adjust to his new position, holding his bag on his lap and his notebook and pen on top of it. He checks inside his bag if there were any missing items and he hears the boy speak again.

For some reason, Jimin knows it’s Korean but he doesn’t understand a single thing. It only makes him panic. Did he just lose all his knowledge of the language in bumping his head. He’s tempted to start yelling at the beautiful boy to give it back, give Jimin back his very limited knowledge of Korean, he needs it, when said boy waves a hand in front of his face.

He asks if Jimin is okay. That he knows.

He replies in English, convinced he’s really lost it all from that little bump in the head. 

“I’m sorry…uhm…I’m bad at Korean…,” he says sheepishly. Time was up. It was a short lived ruse that Jimin could pull this off without having to admit his inadequacy. He’ll just have to study even harder now so he never has to admit this ever again, to anyone. 

“Oh, sorry, I was saying sorry for the mess…” He gestures around himself and at Jimin’s bag. He speaks to Jimin in English but it has a sort of parisian accent to it. He can’t be sure because he’s only heard Americans speak in a parisian accent. He wonders where this boy is actually from. 

“I’m Kim Taehyung and you?”

“Jimin…uh…Park Jimin.”

“I like that.” Taehyung nods to himself and the makes finger guns, “it’s like Bond James Bond.”

“Oh it’s just Park Jimin.” Jimin wants to curl in on himself. He’s not used to do this. In fact, he hates this. Not just because in the Philippines you don’t say your last name before your first name, but because that last name, he hasn’t used it in a long time. Apart from government documents, Jimin’s being using Lawrence’s last name because it was easier for people to address him with Garcia rather than a location. It didn’t really matter what his first name was after that. Filipinos had all kinds of unique names: Jonick, Junun, Jomar, Jonnel. But that one word, one name, gave people less questions to ask Jimin, especially when they saw their family all together. 

Taehyung tilts his head slightly, his eyes wide, and mouth set into a pout. He could hear his question and he knows he’s just debating whether or not ask it. If it would be impolite to. 

“I’m Korean.” Jimin nervously laughs and bring his attention back to the orientation hoping Taehyung would move on and find someone else to both, maybe the girl beside him. She looks like she wants to be bothered and put on the spot. Jimin’s barely been here and all his false pretenses are starting to crumble. He is grateful he found someone who could speak English with but he doesn’t really want to have to explain why a Korean doesn’t speak Korean. He wants to put on another mask of belonging just like he did with Lawrence’s last name. 

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

Jimin is surprised he almost breaks his neck as he turns to Taehyung. That was not what Jimin was expecting. So far from it that he doesn’t even know how Taehyung got from one topic to the other or he simply doesn’t care about the new information he’s gathered from Jimin. But he does care enough to want to know more. 

“Why?” Jimin asks suspiciously. 

“Me and a bunch of my friends are going to see that new bar near Gangnam, you should come.”

Jimin just gapes up at him. 

Taehyung starts typing on his phone and then says, “I’ll send you the address. Do you have KakaoTalk? You should pro-”

“I don’t even know you…”

“So?” Taehyung finally looks at him with a dazzling smile, all of his pretty teeth out for him. Jimin doesn’t have an answer. This was an opportunity, wasn’t it? This is the kind of thing he said he was going to do like go to some place he’s never been as recommended by a complete stranger who he doesn’t even know if is actually a student in this school. 

And if he gets murdered? 

No one could deny that Soo-Young was Jimin’s son. Both hopeless romantics who’ve consumed not only English romance movies but Korean and Filipino as well. Connoisseurs of love. Their hands clasped together in anticipation as if they haven’t watched Hillary Duff’s version of Cinderella for the hundredth time. Even though it was his night, he had asked his mom to choose their movie and he’s never surprised when she chooses Cinderella Story. For some reason, out of all the media she could possibly choose from, this is what made learning English easy for her. She clung on to these words and used them in the odd jobs she had while Jimin was growing up.

Traces of their past echo in the way she mouths the words at the beginning of the movie but Jimin knows her favorite part is the confrontation. When all the fluff and shimmer of love crashes with reality and someone always has to make a choice. Sometimes it’s running to an airport or walking away. It’s never easy but his mom says that that’s where they write the best lines. 

He watches her in endearment, already missing her. 

This was his last night before he flies off to South Korea to study a masters program for two years. The funny thing is, Park Jimin is Korean, full blooded, born and slight raised. However, he hasn’t stepped foot on the soil of his motherland in seventeen years. He looks Korean, his hanguk-mal is rusty but passes for his mom, and his passport says Republic of Korea, but other than that, nothing about Jimin was Korean. In those seventeen years, him and his mom had built a life in the Philippines and never really had a reason to go back.

Except that Park Jimin was having a quarter life crisis and maybe, maybe this will solve it.

The movie continues and they’re coming to the resolution. This is Jimin’s favorite part. When things fall into place. When things start to make sense. When you’re given closure that ties off in a neat little bow of happily ever after. It’s his turn to recite the lines:

“Sorry I waited for the rain.”

“It’s okay.”

Jimin’s always thought that he was Hillary Duff’s character, the one waiting, the one that they ran after, the one that gets found. But he’s been waiting all his life for a love that has never come and a feeling of belongingness he could never grasp even if he tries. Even if he fakes it. Because Park Jimin is Korean but he doesn’t know what that means anymore. 

The credits roll and he feels rather than sees his mom pull him to her chest. They don’t talk. Not yet. They know there will be time, words to say at the airport like how the movies show it. For now, it’s just him and his mom before the two stir awake like clockwork. They always seem to know when the movie ends because that’s when they wake up. 

Soo-young kisses the top of Jimin’s head like she’s done so many times but he feels like he’s fourteen again, lost and scared. He can’t believe he’s doing this but he has to try. He wants answers and he can’t wait anymore. It’s useless and disappointing because Jimin isn’t the one people run after. He has to be the one. He has to look for answers. He’ll have to find himself. 

꩜꩜꩜

All four of them stand in front of the check-in counters at the airport, three hours before Jimin’s flight. Jimin may not be Filipino but he’s sure on Filipino time. Three hours before your flight is just right. He could already go in and wait at his gate since he already checked in online and his luggages were stickered up and taken away via conveyor belt but they linger outside. If Jimin goes to his gate, he can’t take his family with him. 

“Do you have to go?”

Sola whines the same line she’s been saying for the past weeks since she was told Jimin would be gone for two years. She sounds like a broken record and Jimin would feel endeared that his little sister would miss him but it feels more like a chisel breaking down his already fragile resolve. He’s scared enough as it is and he’s a worrier by nature. He wants to tell her no, he doesn’t have to. He’ll stay. But he’s 27 years old and Sola is 7 years old. One of them has to be the adult. One of them has to take a leap of faith.

“I’ll bring you home lots of pasalubongs. You like the biscuit Binch right? I’ll get you those?”

“You can get that here, too! What’s so special about Korea, huh?”

Jimin can’t help but laugh. No one would know Sola and Jimin were siblings. The age difference doesn’t help either but when Sola gets frustrated, her face never lies and it contorts to sharp lines, which is the only time Jimin can see their resemblance. Jimin can’t hide his emotions too. 

He crouches down and whispers to her ear, “If it sucks, I promise to come back as soon as possible.” He finishes off by tickling her and her face contorts to happiness now, showing the gap in her teeth where her adult tooth hasn’t grown yet. 

“I bet…it’ll…suck!” Sola says out loud in between giggles. Jimin pulls her to a hug and squeezes her. He straightens himself and hugs Lawrence next. 

“Take care of them, okay?” Jimin tells him.

“I will.” He pulls away and holds Jimin by his arms. His eyes a little wet and before Jimin could say something he moves away and pats him on the shoulder. His mom comes to view and they stare at each for awhile. Jimin realizes, just now, that this is the first time in his whole life that he will be separated from her and the swell in his heart turns into tears he can’t stop. 

“Eomma…”

Soo-Young reaches out to him and holds his face, lightly caressing his cheeks, wiping his tears. She must’ve had the same realizations because she’s also spilling out tears after tears. Jimin hasn’t seen her cry in so long and it hurts more to know he’s the cause of it. It’s bittersweet, though, he knows. She’s beaming at him and it looks like rain on a sunny day. 

“When did you grow up, huh?” She asks him in Korean and he laughs. She pulls him towards her and she had to go on her tiptoes to be able to put her chin on his shoulder. 

“I miss you so so so much already.”

“Me too.” Jimin replies in the same language. The simple Korean he knows. The ones he hopes he could get by with. Otherwise, all the words he knows are the ones from romantic comedies he’s watched with his mom.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” His mom says back. 

꩜꩜꩜

Jimin hasn’t done a lot of things.

Besides flying alone for the first time and leaving his mother’s side, there is a wide range of things Jimin hasn’t done. 

Like, he’s never been pissed out drunk. He’s drank alcohol but he was always the designated responsible friend whenever he went out, which was rarely. He’s never had his eyes pierced but he’s daydreamed of where he would place them on his ears and how many (two on each side). He’s never had a tattoo but has always wanted one. He knows where he wants it and what he’s going to put but has never done it. He’s never smoked or tried any drugs. He’s not sure about if he’d like to try. And for a person who believes wholeheartedly in love, he’s never been in love. He’s never been kissed and if he’s never been kissed, he hasn’t done anything of the other things too. He’s never had a partner or even someone to fool around with. 

So Jimin’s quarter life crisis had extended its claws not only to his identity and career, but also on his love life. He knows that he’s to blame. He’s spent most of his growing years trying to follow the rules, getting good grades, running to the invisible finish line only to find that he hates his office job even though he’s good at it. His school awards mean nothing in the long run. And no matter how much he adjusted and adapted to different people, he could never fit in. There was always something wrong.

If it were just one aspect of his life, he wouldn’t be pushed to this extreme but something had to be done. It wasn’t even that crazy of an idea. Almost all of his friends and peers were flying out of the country either working elsewhere or settling down in another country for better opportunity. He, too, was sold on the idea that maybe grass was greener on the other side but he knew, he knew that he wasn’t going to fly off to Canada or Paris. It was the hole in his heart that he refuses to acknowledge that calls to him. The question that he’s been holding back that has grown from an itch to a whole allergic reaction that he can’t seem to resist anymore. 

It’s foolish to think that two years and country would change him, would give him answers, give him the resolution he needs, so he doesn’t expect that. But he does promise himself he’ll step out of his comfort zone. If he makes a fool of himself, he already has pre-planned exit. Two years. Two years of whatever he needs to do to find himself. Two years to make sense of things and then he’ll go home. Whether or not something happens, he goes home. He either misses Korea or he lets it go completely, like he’s always wanted. 

The reality of his decisions doesn’t hit him until he opens the door of the apartment he’s renting and finds the place dark and empty. His plane had landed at night and Jimin was more terrified of getting lost than actually taking into the fact that he was in Korea, actualizing the plans he’s been making for over a year. The spreadsheets of finances, accommodations, different schools that he had color-coded and printed it out over and over again was right here. He didn’t even feel the chill of the February air until he felt the emptiness of the apartment. He turns on the light and closes the door behind him. The only sound that echoes through is the lock clicking into place and a short melody that plays. 

Jimin hasn’t done a lot of thing. Jimin’s never been alone. He may never had had a partner but he’s always lived with someone. He’s always had his mom. Even farther into his past, he had both of his biological parents. But for awhile now he’s had a full house with Lawrence and then Sola. He does have a neighbor, Jung Hoseok. He lives across from Jimin and is his landlord. He is also the owner of the coffee shop below their apartments. It’s too late in the night to make acquaintances. He hopes he can make acquaintances. He was very kind and patient with Jimi when he was coordinating with online, used to having foreign students since his place is near the university. 

Jimin doesn’t want to but he finds himself crying. He doesn’t really like to cry but he lets himself do this. Do things he’s never done. This is a new chapter in his life.

[Notes: I originally posted this on Ao3. I'll still be updating there and here. I just ~ visually~ like posting on Tumblr. ]

Chapter 1: A Quarter Life Crisis

Chapter 2: Going Out

Chapter 3: The Art of Not Knowing

Chapter 4: All Good Things

I’m 10 chapters away from finishing this book which I have read with such speed because it is just so exhilarating and interesting. I just want to say that Victoria Aveyard is REALLy good with dialogue that creates an impact without making it cheesy or come out of out nowhere. I have to admit there had to be parts where nothing but politics was happening and it could get dragging but then it builds up to this non-stop heart wrenching moments of great dialogue and sometimes good reflections. Honestly, if you’ve gone through the nitty gritty of actual politics, or at least took a class about it and got a B+, you would appreciate the small dull parts on how people manipulate and maneuver to get what they want by satisfying others. There was a name for that in my Economics class where you think you hold the same goals as the others. Anyways, I’m so amazed by this book and the thought behind it. I really thought there was going to be some huge Avengers kind of battle with a Thanos kind of defeat but there wasn’t and once I was settled with that idea, another thing pops up. It’s safe to say that Aveyard if gifted in plot twists and is why she could craft a trickster like Maven. Moreover, I don’t know how she is able to let me root for Maven despite all he’s done. Somehow she can still write him humanely and with affection towards Mare. it’s so deadly and you know it’s the worst kind of villain. It’s the one you pity but he will not do the same for you. Plus, you doesn’t give you a flawless Prince Charming. Cal has so much flaws and could be easily seen as the villain but even then Aveyard is able to paint him humanely. I think that was the point of it all by giving us different perspectives that sometimes we think our goal better and more honorable than others but they see their goal as the same too. Maybe except Volos who really just wants power. But it’s really interesting and I feel like this is really going to be one of my favorite books. It’s smart and exciting. It leans so much on reality and the prejudices real people hold. 

—

I do think for historical fiction, you need to be in the right mindset because no matter how poetic it is, it’s still so close to home just because it’s based on real things that happened in the world. I think that most historical fictions are quite serious and they always have a deep message and if you’re in the “I want something light and stupid,” you’re just never going to appreciate the art of historical fiction. So for those 2 attempts, I just wasn’t in the right mindset but I’m so happy to finally experience this. Asian stories are hands down the best. They’re always so interesting and I don’t know, Asians love a big plot twist. They love drama. I think it’s the fact that we are naturally a people’s people. We care about family and the extension of it. We care about the people around us. Not to say that Westerners don’t but there is more of the idea of “I” in Western culture versus Asians. You see it in as small as households how the dynamics of people matter, how you fit in a group and I think it brings about a lot more twists and turns because it’s not just you. It’s everyone around you who has secrets and motivations. What happens to them affects you.

That being said, I love Sunja. Miss ma’am owns my whole heart. She is one of the best female characters I have ever read. She is so complex and so strong. I love her so much. I think she deserves THE WORLD. This is what I mean about being a powerful woman without being a bitch about it. There are times where I was sad that she had to be timid and shy but she was a product of her time. That’s how women were. You did not fight back with screaming or kicking. You thrived. One of the themes can be encapsulated in the line that is said by Sunja’s mother that “a woman’s life was suffering.” This is also said by another woman, “A woman’s lot is to suffer.” UGH. I FUCKIN LOVE THIS. I feel so seen as a woman not that I’ve suffered a lot but I think we don’t acknowledge enough how women are forced to suffer in silence. Men go to war and are awarded as martyrs or heroes but no one acknowledges those who are affected by the war and how they live on. How women, powerless and easily taken advantage of, could thrive and make a life for themselves, make something for their children who one day would leave them. I’m still upset about that Noa’s suicide. I can’t. I know it would seem like he did because of the weight of the world on his shoulders, to his perspective, right? I think, and this is a consolation, that he knew he was the ONLY thing that kept Sunja tied to Hansu. Him gone, leaves them nothing, actually worse, leave Sunja with a hole in her heart and has no choice but to be mad at Hansu for it. 

I actually took a long while to write this review because I’ve been plowing through books but I just want to say this was so beautifully written and done. It’s an easy read in a sense that’s it’s not super metaphorical and poetic that you won’t understand. It’s pretty straightforward but it has a lot of symbolism like the Pachinko. Each character, I felt was important. It made the story feel real to have several people involved and to know their story. I love how there is different ways of falling in love and different consequences.