#juminweek 2022

[mrs-han]

Jumin Week

Day Five: Pragma

Trigger warning: Depression and suicide mention.

You kept pulling away from him.

Every time Jumin attempted to comfort or reassure you — every time he slept in front of your door while waiting for you to open it — every time he moved to caress you, to hold you…

You always pulled away.

Jumin knew you had trauma. Something happened to you for you to behave this way, and he didn’t want to trigger a nightmarish memory for you.

So, he remained patient. He gave you the space you needed while keeping a close eye on you; making sure you were eating, drinking water, changing your clothes.

The memories of you smiling brilliantly at him, twirling carelessly only to have him catch you… dancing to your 90’s music playlist while you cooked lunch and yanked him to you…

Jumin knew you were still there. The rough patch would subside in time, and he would be there.

He would always be.

But when you didn’t respond to his rapid knocks on the guest room door, Jumin felt his control slipping from him.

“Darling?” Slamming his palm against the solid wooden door, Jumin felt himself shaking. With adrenaline, with fear — whatever it was, the rush of emotions helped him as he rammed into the door once.

Twice.

Three times over.

The door wouldn’t budge.

Jumin observed his surroundings, trying to regain a clear line of thought while his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing accelerated. Grabbing a fireplace poker within his line of sight, Jumin took the door apart piece by piece, fragments of wood planting themselves into his hands and forearms.

Through the jagged edges, Jumin reached in and fumbled for the doorknob. As soon as he felt the cold handle, he pushed down and stormed in. “Dear —”

He grew rigid in seconds. Your body lay on the bed, limbs hanging off carelessly. Without touching you, Jumin felt how cold you were because of your deathly pale hue. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he lunged for you, pulling you into his bleeding arms.

Water. Water would wake you.

Gathering you into his arms, Jumin ran to the bathroom and set you into the deep-seated tub. Turning the handle, he gathered as much cold water as his hands could hold and delicately splashed your face, desperately patting your cheeks.

“Darling? Darling, wake up. Wake up.”

You shot up, breathless and terrified. The fear in your eyes didn’t calm him, but at least there was still the spark of life.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Grabbing your arms, Jumin gently shook you. “Look at me.”

“I can’t, I can’t —!”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes met with his. The underlying frustration and sadness he felt over the past few days — it was all boiling to the surface now. He dug his fingers into your pale skin, hoping to control his shaking frame. “I’ve had enough of this. I’ve given you time, I’ve given you space — look at the result. I find you in bed, lifeless. It’s obvious my methods of granting you peace haven’t worked, so I need your help now. Tell me what you need. You need to talk to me.”

You shifted, your bare foot squeaking against the tub. “Jumin —”

“Don’t tell me you don’t need help. Don’t tell me you don’t need anything. Stop lying to me.”

Tears spilled from your eyes. You knew Jumin to be overly-assertive, commanding, domineering at times… but he was never that way with you. He was always so calm, so collected. Now? He looked enraged.

It scared you enough to stammer a reply. “I, I just — I j-just, I haven’t been feeling good… m-mentally…”

Jumin’s grip on you loosened faintly. He closed his eyes, realizing he had lost his temper. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Lowering his head, he raked back the bangs in his face — and as his eyes met with yours again, you noticed the brimming tears.

It allowed you to release the floodgates you had held in all this time. Your small, shaky hand touched his cheek — and Jumin leaned into your palm, his tears falling instantly.

“That was the first time I heard you speak in days.”

Jumin’s trembling voice was the wrecking ball that crashed into all of your defenses.

“Ju… Jumin —”

“Stop… you need to stop shutting me out, darling.” In his eyes sparked a fierceness you readily recognized. “I can’t take it. I can’t… handle it. I’m not strong enough. All of my logical reasonings behind why you stayed in that room failed me, and I couldn’t…” Jumin reached out, his hand caressing your cheek. “I see now that I was right to worry. You haven’t eaten… darling, you haven’t eaten anything.”

As if on cue, your stomach let out a miserable growl. Jumin moved his hand from your cheek to your leg, just above your knee. “Are you trying to leave this world?”

The question sent your body quivering uncontrollably. “It wasn’t… the plan, but if it happened… I wouldn’t have been… opposed —”

Snatching you into his arms, Jumin held you to him with a firmness you had never know from him before. “No. No, you — no. I order you to stay with me.”

The demand surprised you.

“I will do anything you ask. Anything to prevent you from leaving this world. From leaving me. I will sit with you if you choose to go to counseling, I will walk with you if you need fresh air, I will sing with you as soon as you choose a song. I will do anything but leave you alone for days at a time.”

You leaned into his embrace. “I thought that, if I left, you wouldn’t have to put up with me anymore —”

“Nonsense. Nonsense. You can’t scare me away. You aren’t a toy for me to disregard. You are my wife. Anything that hurts you will hurt me, too. Anything that plagues you will plague me, too. We will endure all of life’s obstacles and prove to the stars that our love will persist above all. But you must give yourself that chance… and you must give me the chance to love you from now… all the way until.”

You closed your puffy, tear-stained eyes. “Until…?”

Jumin’s hug relaxed as he lifted your chin, kissing your unbrushed mouth. Your first instinct was to pull away, but he refused to abide.

Realization dawned on you, your husband’s much-needed kiss temporarily clearing the clouds in your head.

“Stay with me,” you breathed, lips still clashing against Jumin’s and tears merging with his. “Stay with me until.”

Jumin pulled your head back by your hair. “I promise.”

[brighteststar707]

Philia

Affectionate love. Deep friendship and feeling part of a group.

The RFA’s second party since the arrival of the new party coordinator is in full swing. Everything is going smoothly, and RFA members are strewn across the hall, occupied with entertaining guests. All but Jumin and Jihyun, who sit together at a table in the back, almost out of sight.

Onstage, V’s photographs are being set up for auction. It’s set to begin soon, and it’s not something he likes to watch, so he and Jumin found a bottle of wine and stray tray of appetizers to distract themselves with.

They’re both swept up in the happy atmosphere and relishing in the results of their hard work.

“It looks like everyone is having fun. I’m glad, they all worked hard for this,” Jihyun says.

And it’s true. Despite all the work they put in to get to this point, everyone seems to be having fun.

Seven and Yoosung are talking to Gordon Ramsey and completely failing to conceal their excitement at the encounter. Jumin still doesn’t understand what they’re so excited for. He’s not even cooking any food. When he brings it up to Jihyun, he’s just met with laughter.

“I thought your new spouse was insistent on showing you Masterchef after getting married? He’s a celebrity, a cultural icon.”

“They’ve been too busy showing me different Disney movies to start it yet.”

“They’re a good influence on you.”

“I know.” He looks proud of himself as he says it.

They pause their ramblings to study the appetizers they swiped. Over the years, with the RFA parties and the events they attended when they were younger, they’ve developed preferences for certain snacks.

It reminds Jumin of how, when they were still teenagers, Jihyun somehow convinced the catering team at an event that they wouldn’t miss one tray of hors d’oeuvres. They spent that night hidden out in a corner of the hall, tray balanced on their knees, polishing off every last piece. He often made it his mission after that to score the best food at every event they attended.

“Penny for your thoughts, Jumin? You’re being awfully quiet. If you’re thinking of taking the last crab cake, think again. It’s mine.”

“I was just thinking about the parties our fathers used to make us attend when we were younger.”

“God, they were so boring. I don’t know what they expected us to do there,” Jihyun says, rolling his eyes. He never took to this type of society as well as Jumin did.

“You made them fun, though. The first time we tried wine was at one of those parties.”

“Was it?”

“Yes, you charmed one of the waitresses into serving us wine.”

Jihyun’s face lights up at the memory. “Right, and we spent the night outside in the gardens, getting drunk. We were so young.”

“Not much has changed since then.”

“It hasn’t. We’re still here getting drunk by ourselves at a party.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not drunk.”

Anyone else would believe him. He’s alarmingly composed, even after so many drinks. Jihyun has always been jealous of that. There have certainly been a few gallery openings where he had a few too many glasses of champagne and acted a little…less dignified. But he knows Jumin too well. Only he can hear the way the wine has weighed down his tongue, made everything just a bit slower.

“You’re getting all nostalgic, you only do that when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not nostalgic, just remembering things. It’s not my fault I have a good memory.”

“And you’re speaking all slow.”

“I’m not.” As if in revenge, he swipes up the last crab cake and holds it aloft victoriously.

Jihyun laughs at his petulant reply. This is his favourite time of the night, where they’ve had enough wine to make everything funny. Jumin smiles at him affectionately. This is his favourite part of the night too. When Jihyun laughs, it makes him feel safe. He knows better than anyone that this kind of love is hard to come by.

He turns his eyes back to the crowd, surveying the different groups of people in attendance. Jaehee is standing at the coffee stand, eagerly chatting to the guests running it. Zen is surrounded by the modelling group, who Jumin suspects are trying to recruit him.

The person he’s looking for, however, is nowhere to be found. At least, they’re doing a good job of staying out of his line of sight.

A figure appears behind Jumin, holding a finger to their lips in a signal to Jihyun. Their arms snake over Jumin’s shoulders and swipe the appetizer from his hands before planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for that, darling, I was worried we were all out of these.”

“Perfect timing, I’m pretty sure Jumin was looking for you,” Jihyun says with a smile.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Yes,” they both reply, almost immediately.

“Are you drunk, Jumin? You’re talking all slowly.”

Jihyun bursts into laughter at that comment. “See, I told you!”

“I’m happy to see that you’re both enjoying yourselves. I have to get back, I just wanted to tell you that the auction is about to begin. Thank you for the snack, love.”

Jihyun can’t help but smile at the expression on Jumin’s face as he watches the love of his life walk away. He has never seen him like this before, caught off guard and so content.

“Jihyun, I have a confession to make.”

“What is it?”

“I think I’m drunk.”

He chuckles. “I think I am too.”

[juminweek2019]

Congrats to those who feel like/finished Jumin's Week!! 💜👑✨

Good Job everyone!🎉🎉🎉 Jumin is very proud!💜💜💜

For those of us that still want to/keep participate and couldn't for various reasons, we are still receiving works 😱 for at least another week, but could be extended to the end of the month if requested 👀

So to those who finished congrats! And to those who are not done yet, we are waiting for your participation and good luck!! 😱

For The Han!! 💜👑✨

[mrs-han]

Jumin Week

Day Six: Philautia

With you being away for the weekend, Jumin had the penthouse to himself. Naturally, he kept himself busy with work and Elizabeth the Third, but there was a glaring you-shaped hole missing… and it was getting harder to ignore.

Moving to the small, peach-colored Bose speaker, Jumin smiled fondly. Memories of you dancing wildly or delicately filled his mind — he chuckled as he recalled a spin you had been trying to master, only to land on the bed, couch, or his arms as you toppled over.

Running his fingers through the indented play button, he tilted his head. Surely, you wouldn’t mind him using your stereo…? Or listening to your Spotify playlist?

Jumin opened the account, album covers of Disney, true crime podcasts, and unfamiliar Japanese and Korean artists littering the screen. Eyes softening, he opened the playlist you created — the image you chose being of a wide-eyed Elizabeth the Third looking cluelessly and cutely towards the camera.

Jumin coughed back a laugh; 100 hours and 8 minutes worth of music you enjoyed.

Hm.

Looking back down at your speaker, he pressed the on button, familiar green and blue lights illuminating it. Immediately connecting through Bluetooth, a song boomed throughout the penthouse —

Scaring the absolute shit out of him. Scrambling to turn it down, Jumin closed his eyes and let out a huff.

If you were here, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. He could already imagine your endless laughing.

“Why she insists on turning this thing all the way up is beyond me.” With a sharp click of his tongue, he glanced at the song playing on his phone. “TiK… ToK. Tick tock. I wonder if this Kesha knows the title of her song is spelt wrong.”

With great caution, Jumin turned the volume up on your speaker. A catchy pop-bop filled his ears, but he was still… apprehensive with this kind of music. While your personality shined through catchy diddy’s and endless repetition, Jumin preferred a calmer tone. Light jazz, even scat if he was feeling adventurous.

Turning the music up a little more, he began to understand the appeal. Bobbing his head and patting his thigh with his hand to the beat, he felt himself begin to relax. It felt like you were home, just around the corner, shouting the lyrics you dedicated to memory.

Swaying his hips loosely and relaxing his arms, allowing them to sway naturally to the beat of the music, Jumin smiled. He was only taught formal forms of dance, never something as spontaneous as this. Spreading his legs wider, Jumin grabbed and threw his jacket to the couch. Feet tapping against the floor, he took a chance and started to move around the way you would — toes barely touching the floor, arms up and out to the side, hair madly swooshing in different directions.

He felt ridiculous, but free. Gaining more momentum, Jumin started hopping to the intoxicating rhythm, his long legs skipping from the kitchen to the living room. The small smile on his lips was so much bigger now; he made giddy sounds he had never made before, squeaking in his adrenaline and laughing loudly.

Body glistening with sweat, Jumin slid his tie from around his neck and shot his arm into the air, waving the tie while moving his hips from side to side. Spotting his reflection in the window, his laughter only grew, filling the penthouse with a noise it hadn’t known from him.

Now he understood why you did this everyday!

Pushing the door open with your knee, you set your luggage down and twisted your backpack off your shoulders. The blaring music instantly alerted you. “Jumin? Sweetheart?”

“Tick tock, on the clock, but the party don’t stop, no. OH, WHOA, WHOA OH.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth, muffling a laugh. That was definitely the voice of your husband.

Peeking your head around the corner, your mouth fell in amused bewilderment. Jumin’s elegant figure was no more as he stood thrusting his hips, shaking his butt, and waving his arms to music only you listened to in this relationship. You couldn’t help it; raising your phone, you snapped a quick picture of him…

The click alerting him instantaneously.

Spinning around, hair wet from his sweat, his body tensed. “Darling…!”

Wiggling your fingers, you shined your largest smile his way. “Hi ~!”

While he slammed his hand repeatedly onto the speaker to turn it off to no avail, you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jumin hesitantly wrapped an arm around you, very aware of how sweaty he was. “Welcome… home, what is wrong with this speaker.”

You lowered the volume and buried your chin in his chest. “I see you enjoyed yourself while I was away!”

Jumin blushed deeply, his ears ringing. “Darling, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like.” Pushing his matted bangs back, you gripped his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed! Come on, Mister Fancy Pants! Show me what you can do!”

Jumin beamed, pressing his warm and wet lips against yours. And as you led him to a wider space, the drowning music filling his ears and you before his eyes, there was no better place to be.

@juminweek2019

[mrs-han]

Jumin Week

Day Four: Ludus

“Oh, oh no, ooh no…”

“Calm down, let’s think about this reasonably —”

“Jumin, we did things!”

He didn’t want to think about it. Murmuring a string of curses under his breath, Jumin ran his fingers through his hair… trying desperately to ignore the sticky sensation he felt on his fingers and scalp.

“Oh God, we’re going to hell, aren’t we?”

Squinting his eyes, Jumin gave you a look of pure confusion and bewilderment. “What?”

“Don’t give me that look, aren’t we supposed to wait until marriage to… do what we did?!”

“Listen to me. There is no point in fixating on the what ifs. We’re here. Now.”

“So, then, what are we going to tell everybody?!”

Your shouting urged Jumin to rub his temples… then quickly retract his still-sticky fingers from his skin. “Ehm… then, we need to make this right.” Slowly lowering to one knee, Jumin pulled his student ring from his middle finger and offered it up to you. “Will you marry me?”

You froze in place, unblinkingly staring up at him. Eventually, Jumin stood and moved towards you, leaning forward to meet your height. “Come back to me.”

Blinking quickly, you covered your reddening cheeks and practically yanked your body away from Jumin, the action reminding him of a scene from The Exorcist.

“You can’t be serious,” you belted, deliriously laughing. “You, you’re absolutely mad! I’m nineteen, you’re, what, twenty?!”

“Twenty-three”

“Oh, oh I’m gonna be sick.”

“To be fair, my father has been encouraging me to get married —”

“Oh, shut up!” You quickly yanked your skirt on, buttoned the top of your school uniform, and slammed your feet into your shoes.

Jumin watched you closely, annoyed that you hadn’t answered him. Or tied your shoes. “I take it you’re denying my proposal?”

“What do you think, Jumin?!”

“… Well, based on your body language and tone of voice, I’d say —”

“No, I will not marry you!!” You slammed the door to his private suite, leaving him to process the memory of the night before, and the last ten minutes.

Jumin scribbled his signature, handing the document of agreement to Jaehee. “Here. What else do I need to sign.”

“Nothing at the moment, Mr. Han. You have the next three to five minutes until your next meeting. I’ll meet you then.”

As his efficient assistant walked out of the room, Jumin closed the door behind her and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the next conference. It was his third year working for his father’s company as an Executive Director, and only two years since he hired his first Executive Assistant.

This was it; the real world, a world after college.

He had been wanting to get to this life sooner than what was planned, not because he excelled at every subject matter that was thrown at him…

But because he didn’t want to be at the same school as you.

Your rejection of his proposal had far damaged him than he realized. Surely, through the years, he had learned how to talk to members of the opposite sex with more charm and charisma than he had shown you — maybe if he had learned those skills before that fateful night, you would have…

It wasn’t important.

Jumin straightened his tie pin and took a sip of sparkling water just as Jaehee knocked on the door to the conference room.

“Come in.” Authoritative, bold, maybe a tad intimidating.

Opening the door a little wider, Jaehee bowed her head. “Mr. Han, our pleasing client is here.”

Stepping aside, Jaehee made room for none other than you. Jumin recognized you immediately; your cropped hair had grown out past your shoulders now, your hips — the very hips he dug his fingers into years ago — swayed confidently, void of the reticence he had seen in college.

And your eyes. Your deep amber eyes stared directly at him. Into his soul.

“Mr. Han, I’d like to introduce you to —”

“No need. We know each other.”

You brushed your hair back, revealing your collarbone. Jumin felt a growing pressure against his slacks.

You smirked devilishly. “Yes. We know each other very well. Well then. Shall we, Jumin?”

@juminweek2019

[mrs-han]

Jumin Week

Day Two: Philia

Choosing a tie in the early hours of the morning always irked Jumin to no end.

He studied himself in the mirror, lifting an ink-colored tie to his chest, then replacing it with a charcoal colored one. He was always made fun of by Zen or Jihyun for his lack of variety. But Jumin prided himself on being a man of fact and logic — black and white.

If others couldn’t understand that, he didn’t care. Nor did he care to explain.

Resting both ties on the bed, Jumin rubbed the bridge of his nose. If only there could be someone, anyone, who could make this choice easier for him…

Reewwr.

Jumin’s gaze dropped to her, his beloved Elizabeth the Third. His furled brows relaxed as he watched her rub against his ankle, her eyes closed in pure contentment.

“Elizabeth, darling.” Jumin knelt to pet her, his long fingers massaging the pillowy fluff that made up her ear. “What did I tell you about rubbing against me before I go to work?”

She opened her eyes — brilliant blue sapphires sparking under the penthouse lights — and she meowed gracefully, not breaking eye contact with Jumin for a second.

“Oh? Irresistible, you say?” Chuckling, Jumin grabbed the Persian cat and cradled her in his arms, swaying side to side unconsciously. “I feel the same about you.”

Elizabeth the Third snuggled into her owner’s arms, her hair shedding against his striped dress shirt. Jumin felt the urge to scold her again, but it seemed she had read him yet again.

She didn’t want him to leave. She could sense that something was on his mind.

“I can’t escape from you, can I? You always see right through me, lady.” Placing her onto his bed, Jumin took a seat next to her, his fingers rubbing circles over her head. “It’s true. Jihyun still hasn’t contacted me, so I’m feeling… well. I’m concerned for him. All I can do is stay busy to keep myself from thinking of him and… what he’s doing. What he’s thinking.”

Reaoorr.

“Yes, Assistant Kang continues to scold me over small, irrelevant matters like your hair being on my clothes. You know I don’t mind it, but she does. So you must be mindful of her preferences before you grace my clothes with your fur.”

Mrowr.

“Yes, I’ll be gone for most of the day. But you can roam freely, just as you always have. Hm? Does that satisfy you?”

Elizabeth the Third’s eyes closed slowly, a soft purr emanating from her body as she reopened her eyes and continued to make eye contact with Jumin.

He smiled at her softly. “I love you too. Now, you must help me choose a tie. I’m meeting with father for lunch, and I have meetings all morning with art aficionados.”

The cat stretched leisurely, moving from Jumin and placing her paw on the charcoal tie.

“I see… you recommend this one?” Lifting the tie and observing it, Jumin couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “An excellent choice.”

Meooorw.

“I know you know. I’ll leave the decision up to you from now on, how is that?”

She didn’t answer. She lifted her head, prideful and elegant, and sauntered her way to the couch where she hopped up and lay on her back, awaiting more pats.

“I’ll come back to you as soon as I can. I promise.” Running his hand over her head and down her side, Jumin took one last glance at her before turning and heading towards the door.

Black and white… that was all he was accustomed to. But at least one constant remained in his life - one twinge of color. His beloved feline… his eternal friend.

@juminweek2019

[mrs-han]

Jumin Week

Day Seven: Obsessive Love

We made it, folks! Give yourself a round of applause! Thank you so much to @juminweek2019 for hosting this marvelous week-long event, it’s been a blast!

And, dear readers and rebloopers, thank you for your kindness, your humor, your dedication to reading my lil blurbs. I really can’t tell you just how much it means to me.

For the Han!! 💜

You loved him so much.

Voice as smooth as rich velvety cake batter, hair softer than the fur on a puppy, hands lightly calloused yet so soft against your cheeks, eyes stormy yet so full of undying affection and devotion…

“You’re daydreaming again, honey.”

Snapping back to reality, you moved behind him and draped your arms around his neck. “I can’t help it, Jumin. You’re so… you’re so…”

Twisting to face you with brows raised, you couldn’t stop yourself from touching his cheek, dragging your fingers over his sharp jawline, past his Cupid’s bow, and over the vague dorsal hump on his nose.

Jumin responded in kind, grabbing your wrists and turning his head to kiss the palms of your hands. Your stomach flipped and fluttered; you loved these moments with him and you couldn’t wait to —

“Darling.”

“I love you so much, Jumin. And you, you love me too.”

Moving to his feet, Jumin walked around the couch and pulled you to him. “Of course I love you.”

“Yes… yes, you do.” You started giggling softly, your hands exploring his slender and powerful body.

“Darling.”

Your giggle grew into a full, belly-aching laugh. Your fingertips digging into his skin, you gradually fell to your knees. Your laughs morphed into ferociously angry sobs and deafening screams.

Kneeling before you, Jumin took your face into his hands. Thumbs caressing your cheeks, he leaned in and spoke gingerly.

“You need to let me go. I cannot keep coming back here.”

“No. No, you — you belong here, you promised me forever!!”

Jumin tilted his head slightly — just as he always did. “I am still with you. I will always be with you. You need to let me go now… so I can protect and help you from where I need to be.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Why protect and help me from there, why can’t you do it here?”

“You know I can’t. Please.” Eyes pleading, Jumin raised your chin. “Please. Grant me this peace and allow yourself to heal —”

“I said no!!”

Your sudden movement extinguished the flame in front of you.

And your husband - your Jumin - left with it.

“No, no, no…” you scribbled Jumin’s full name onto a fresh sheet of paper, pricking your finger with the same overused needle you had been using all this time.

Reaching into his urn, you sprinkled Jumin’s ashes over your blood smear. Giddiness filled your heart.

You’d get to see him again.

And again.

Until his urn was empty.