He'd sat in the cafeteria for some time after he finished his curry, curled over a piece of paper with a blue highlighter in his hand. He was veritably awful at not smudging ink, but the cramped hangul was legible enough, even with all the folds in it.
"It" was what he gave Yoongi when he got home, something blue if only because of the endless and smooshed "saranghae"s in highlighter made it so. It was an origami cootie catcher, and he didn't so much as give it to Yoongi as he nipped his ear with it.
"Gotcha, Min Yoongi," he said, but in possibly the most intentionally annoying voice a man could muster. "Saranghaeyo!"
The first thing he'd ever given Min Yoongi was a pain in the neck, probably, right next to a cold glass of pebble ice and water and a small bowl of mul naengmyeon—admittedly taken from his own lunch before he'd even taken a bite.
One must have pity on sweating artists in the summer heat, after all.
This artist had been commissioned to paint something absolutely incredible, Namjoon decided, and it was barely even started. He moved closer to him, crouching so he could set down the water and soup instead of handing them to the artist himself, who was holding his large brushes and had one clamped between his teeth. “Nice cactus,” Namjoon commented, then stood, brushing off his pants. He was already beginning to sweat. Fuck.
It wasn’t a cactus, of course (not even remotely), but that was the point.
Write a self para about your character of at least 1800 {total is 2684} words about their love life and/or their wished for love life. {a day late but i’m not trying to qualify so eh}
Peaches irreparably reminded him of Ares—from that first day he spoke to him, the first time he dipped down to touch lips and tasted traces of homemade peach ice cream left from it, falling asleep during his lessons under the peach trees... There was a tendency for the three of them to compare Ares to an angel. In some ways it was a joke, because no people knew better than them what Ares could be like, but it was also hopelessly genuine. Peaches and angelic smiles. That full-body laughter that made Namjoon’s heart ache like it’s too small to hold so much warmth. Those looks Ares gave him sometimes, like he was the whole world in some ways, and Namjoon was sure, absolutely sure, that he would die for him. Maybe die because of him.
Jazz was a king, the gentlest man, the youngest, silently still, soft stars. He was more than skin and scars and tattoos could contain. Meeting him was a fluke, and inarguably a brilliant blip in time. Those deviations persisted until he could feel harmonies singing under his blood. Jazz was his strength in ways he could never imagine, given that he saw him a few days a week past midnight like the universe’s most beautiful, captured dream. He imagined his fingers interlocked with his when he hadn’t quite learned for himself what steady hands were, and Jazz’s were the steadiest. There were fences he didn’t realize he could climb until Jazz was on the other side, asking him whether he had the strength to come along. He did, he found out, and wanted that love that didn’t leave him gripping the edge of the sink and sobbing. That love that was tucked into the soft smile Jazz got, that forgave him for things Namjoon hadn’t even gotten to yet, that asked him questions and sought answers he hadn’t realized were worth giving. Where Ares was still yet an unreachable seraphim, Jazz was tangible and more than enough. More than enough to realize his perspective on support and smiles was completely wrong. Love wasn’t a fluke like first meetings could be, it wasn’t an act of providence, it wasn’t just in passerby or just the local angel. It was close by and steady as a rock, even when its cracks showed.
There were laws in order that suggested when paths intertwined too many times without meaning, the world would conspire to make them meet. Burned cheeks under layers and layers of sunscreen, hands awash in painted rainbows like a gay pride parade, and the distinct memory of laughter caught under his tongue and an earnestness to know. There was a humor to Hazel that was aglow in the boniness of his arms, defiance and strength met head-on that had seen things Namjoon simply hadn’t yet. In so many ways, Namjoon yearned to be loved. He asked it of Hazel, and somewhere, somehow, he’d given it over because he was gentler than Jazz and sweeter than Ares under his bruised, grumbling eyes. He could have met him amongst honey bees, or under Jongup’s steady hands and ink, but he met him alone, surrounded by sunlight and brick and an almost-toppled glass of water. For a time, he was most afraid of failing him, of being less than Hazel had imagined him to be—especially when he had a moat, a cave, a whole decrepit childhood castle of worthlessness and injury—but somewhere, somehow, he realized he’d failed to see Hazel as so, so, so human. And that’s when he fell in love, sitting at the apartment table across the room and doing nothing. Nothing of import.
They’d snuck into his heart like he’d never had walls there in the first place, and he was pretty sure he’d let them. If there had been a fight, they bore no bruises. No stretch marks (no, he’d been to slow for that). Just him trying to remember when, exactly, he’d given them the key to the front gate one by one, and how they managed to see him broken and bleeding and bruised and sobbing and still wanted him.
Calling it a miracle wouldn’t do them justice.
Eventually, they’d find and ask about the journal he’d forgotten about, with entries so old his handwriting was not only chicken scratch but almost completely illegible. But they wouldn’t know about its companion for some time, and Namjoon kind of preferred it that way. It wasn’t that it was filled with horrors and nightmares. It was, in fact, the first’s exact opposite. Writing out all the bad things to make sense of them was nice in theory, but once the pages started being filled deep into the latter half of a hundred, the negativity was overwhelming. So he’d been given a second journal where the first twenty-three pages were in smudged lilac pen and the rest would make do in varying shades of purple. Most of the lilac pages were crowded with Kijung, sometimes Kitae or Jiha, and he’d memorized the pages where his parents had made it in so he never had to read them until he was ready.
But around when the magenta fountain pen had started being used, and what was Korean turned into shaky English, there were mentions of Ares. Right when the violet pen started running out came Jazz, and with the pinky-lavender was Hazel. He had a vague idea of what he was doing when he wrote about them, harboring a suspicion that if he looked back on these things he’d want to hide this journal both from himself and somewhere deep where no else one could find it either.
So he usually wrote with as much maturity as he could muster for the sake of whatever future self decided to self-inflict embarrassment, but still things like, “He’s so cute I’m going to vomit” made it in there. Luckily, given most contexts, he couldn’t really blame himself. It was still relatable and applicable and probably always would be.
2011/8/8
Didn’t mean to not write for so long. Hyunja locked me out of our room. The roof is better than sleeping next to him, anyway. There are some really bright stars even with all the street lamps on. Maybe I can sneak out to visit the library? To look up constellation names or something. Kinda need sleep, though, and the shingles aren’t exactly God’s best mattress.
Work was gross today (temperature was in the high thirties and I wanted to peel my skin off), but the peaches are really pretty. They get this kinda reddish color. I expected them to be lighter for some reason. More pinkish.
I met Park Jimin yesterday. He’s younger than me, I think? I was really embarrassing, but he made me smile. Some guy was being dumb and Jimin-ah punched him. I’d let him punch me, too. If he wanted. Forcing me to take credit for the peaches he picked was as close as I’ll get, though, probably. Equally as humbling. I was kind of thinking of his ears the whole time because I said some stupid things (I didn’t really expect him to speak Korean, actually, which I guess was pretty stupid of me) but he also has nice ears. If he blushes they go more pink than the peaches. The whole of him is really nice though. And I mean whole. He punched someone but I would have, too, if I were him, and he’s really nice. About as nice as his parents, so I guess it runs in families, huh? Gotta wonder about me, then. But if Jimin-ah liked me okay, I must be nice enough, too. (Consensus: “nice” is the word of the day)
Remember when I said I thought maybe I could be gay? He was really cute. I wonder if he’s okay being called that? It’s probably not better to call him pretty, but. Yeah. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to if I see him again.
2011/8/9
On a scale of petty, where would I lie for locking Hyunja out of our room? Just hypothetically, really. I don’t feel like getting scalped today. Or ever.
Update: Jimin-ah’s laugh just about killed me today. He still hasn’t punched me, but I’m waiting. It’s an open (unspoken) invitation. For the record, he did laugh that first day but I was kinda distracted by how embarrassed I was to be me. Existence is a real struggle.
I’m fully prepared for this crush. But he’s not too distracting, which is nice. I mean, he’s distracting if he can be distracting, but I’m still getting plenty of work done.
Accidentally broke some shit today and was ignored, which is better than literally any realistic alternative.
[...]
2011/9/3
Hey, America? English sucks.
Kim Namjoon Kim Namjoon Kim Namjoon Kim Namjoon Park Jimin Park Jimin Park Jimin. He has good p a handriting. That looks wrong.
I didn’t He’s really, really nice. I think noona would have liked him? I miss It was cooler out today because it rained last night. Grass grows really fast. There’s already some green everywhere, so I hope it rains again (even if I can’t go out at night). I miss the flowers.
[...]
2011/12/20
Somehow no one has noticed I d have my ears pierced. It has been more than two weeks. Eiht Eighteen days. They said six to eight weeks, so I will listen to them. My ears feel okay, though. It will be worth the money to buy earrings. Small circles? Hoops. If Hyunja sees them, I think he will rip them out, but I have been sleeping out on the roof again. I forgot the word, sorry.
I was right. Jimin looks nice. I do not know how to describe him. Not in English, but I promised I would practice. Verb tenses are worst. Writing this has taken a long time.
He looks at me sometimes and I do not think it. I freeze up and want to cry kind of. I have to leave this job soon, though, and I do not want to. I will miss the peaches. Jimin goes to the same high school as me. I will not miss him as much. Because of him I am far in my English classes even though it is not my language, but it still takes time to read assignments. I do not have a lot of time. The CHSPE does not need good grades before though. I will do my best.
[...]
10/21/2012
I still think America writes their dates... stupidly.
I just took the CHSPE and I’m sending Jimin kisses for all he’s done for me (like I’ll ever kiss him aha). And my English teachers, of course. The test didn’t go so bad, but it’s hard to tell until we get the results back. I have to wait for those and pretend like someone’s not going to have my hide if I end up failing. The math was easiest, but I feel an okay sort of confident.
It still sucks not having any classes with Jimin, but I never have. Also, Halloween still makes me laugh. If Hyunja goes to answer the door this year I’ll hit him with a frying pan. He can keep his gross hands off of the children dressed like Darth Vader and stuff.
They’re so little every year oh my god.
I mean I have my nieces and nephews but it’s different. Plus mine don’t dress up like Snow White, you know?
[...]
2/28/2013
okay okay okay okay
I’m so gay it hurts.
I’m okay.
So I met someone on one of my midnight things. It was the frozens section and I was embarrassing as usual but oh my god he had the cutest smile and I’m still hurting.
His name is Moon Jongup, which I’m writing down so I don’t make a fool of myself when I see him again. I had to show him something so I asked him to find me on the street off of where I went when I was avoiding the dead body in our room. Which is morbid I guess but the place is really pretty, and it’s not like I’m going to tell him why I went there? I hope he likes it. It’s far enough from home that we should be okay. I wasn’t really thinking when I asked and now I’m really nervous. But what’s done is done and I’ll meet him. Bring a book, maybe, just in case he doesn’t show up. Which would make sense. I’m reading a really good book right now. I’ve been reading it for ages, though, so it’ll be nice to have an excuse to maybe get past chapter seven.
I haven’t seen Jimin a lot lately, but sometimes he’ll drag me to sit with him at lunch if he finds me cleaning. Someone should tell him he’s beautiful since I’m in too deep to properly do it. He might hear it all the time, actually, but telling someone their appearance is beautiful is different than telling someone their personality is beautiful, you know? I’m usually really tired by lunchtime because I don’t know what sleep means, but he brightens my day if he’s there.
3/3/2013
So I had another gay awakening with Jongup, right? But that’s kind of whatever, because he’s just really easy to talk to. And that’s better than any gay awakening. We have to keep agreeing to meet each other because he doesn’t have a phone (he’s younger than me, which like wow. Where does he get off looking like that at 15? That feels really young, by the way, but only when I realize I’m 16, which still doesn’t feel real).
He told me about constellations. We didn’t end up waiting for sunrise because the sky was cloudless and those sunrises are kind of boring, but it was a really nice night to look at the stars, and he seems really passionate about those. It suits his family name really well.
Also, he has a few tattoos already and I know not to ask about them, but he’s kind of amazing. For making decisions like that already, and they’re really good looking. They’re just these small details, and I obviously can’t know if the ones I’ve seen are all he has visible because it’s cold as balls at night still and long sleeves are a survival measure, but yeah. They look good on him.
[...]
8/19/2014
I told Jongup about the artist who’s painting the side of the restaurant, and even if I didn’t make the artist laugh, I made Jongup laugh. So I’ll settle.
Which yeah by the way, there’s an artist painting the side of the restaurant. Because I think there was some miscommunication about lunch, I ended up giving him some of mine. I don’t know the details, but it was super gross outside, so I figured he’d want something. Water and stuff. His art is really beautiful. He was painting this lily when I went out to talk to him first and... I guess I wouldn’t peg him as someone who paints flowers, but it’s really beautiful so far. I can’t wait to see it finished.
Also, I hope he doesn’t get heatstroke. If I had a standup umbrella or something I’d bring it for him.
Think I can make him smile? It’s gonna be a feat when it looks like he’s been running on two hours of sleep and has been sitting out in the sun for hours on end, but I kind of want to see it.
[...]
13/19/2014
GUESS WHO MADE HIM SMILE. It took fucking forever and he’s just about done with his mural but hey guess what. It’s really cute. Turns out grumpy artists paint the best flowers and have the best smiles.
I gotta go but I had to make that announcement at least. Bye!
