Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Kim Taehyung
Summary: A collection of individual Taekook stories based on colour prompts rooted in love, wonder and sex. Every instalment is a single bottle sent out to the lonely sea.
White is every colour of the spectrum, reflected.
Jungkook is colour blind.
He doesnât mix his greens up with his reds. Itâs not just a case of missing pigment or a two-dimensional glitch in his photoreceptors. Itâs not a narrowing of his spectrum because there is no spectrum to narrow.
He sees black. He sees grey. He sees white.
Sees light and shadows, but not the saturated sky as it changes from orange to purple as the sun goes down. Sees details, but canât tell you the colour of someoneâs skin, the colour of their eyes. The colour of their lips. And itâs not tied to some romantic notion. Nothing to do with soul mates. It's not timers on arms, tattoos on skin, coming of ageâconcepts Jungkook thinks are mostly ridiculous, is jealous of, because for him there is no gain. Thereâs no rainbow at the other end. No love, no switch. No inbuilt trigger thatâs going to change the way he sees; when heâs walking home from his job, when heâs in the midst of the busy city on a Saturday night, when heâs on a train hurtling through the country. It is what it isâthe hand Jungkook was dealt. Genetic monochromatism. Rare, but so are shark attacks. So are plane crashes. Rare doesnât mean things donât happen. All it means is that if they happen to you, youâre unluckyâthat is, if the thing that happens is bad, and in Jungkookâs case, it is.
Or at least he thinks it might be.
Reality is, he doesnât know what heâs missing because you canât truly miss something that you never even had.
But the older he gets, the more he learns about the world, the more he learns about people, the more he feels a snaking grief. Grief for something heâs never known but still knows is lost. Is gone. Is different. It wraps around his lungs and squeezes the air out when he hears people talk about flowers, fireworks, fabrics, what theyâve seen on film. Because, to Jungkook, itâs just a change of contrast, a shift from dark to light.
Illumination and nothingness.
Jungkookâs never had a boyfriendâor a girlfriend, for that matterâbecause he is afraid. Afraid heâll say the wrong thing or give the wrong advice. Feel the wrong feeling. Bore them to death because heâs heard that grey is drab and Jungkook thinks he might be what he sees. Dreary and dull. Tedious and tiring.
He steers clear of galleries. Doesnât enjoy spring. Never goes out to the movies. Canât tell the difference between an orange and a grapefruit, so how is he supposed to tell you that your outfit brings out your eyes, the highlights in your hair? How is he supposed to smile when you crunch through Autumn leaves and yell that theyâre so vibrant? When you say that you only go to the beach on rainy days because the sea turns green, like an uncut emerald?
Jungkook thinks that there might be a limit to how much grey a person will endure. How much theyâll bend before they fake it. He lays awake at night trying to fathom how many unshared observations, how many failed interpretations it would take for a gleam to fade from a smile, for a glimmer in patient eyesâa loverâs, sayâto tarnish like cut-rate gold. And, as he calculates the cost, weighs up the risk of sure rejection, the inevitable discarding of something incompleteâsomething dysfunctionalâhe decides that he wonât ever be the cloud that eclipses someones sun, and he doesnât have it in him to try and shine for two.
The day he meets Taehyung, itâs because colour, or lack thereof, almost nearly kills him.
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