SUGAR PLUM

01. SONGS OF MOONLIGHT

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THE SONGS OF MOONLIGHT manifested itself in a boy adorned with glowing, porcelain skin and the lingering scent of vanilla.

park jimin was a masterpiece; straight a's, a charming smile that girl's swooned over, caring eyes.

he was the full package.

he was to go to college for business, take over the family business, find a beautiful girl—which wouldn't be hard, there are many pretty girls lined up and waiting for him—marry, have two kids—one boy and one girl. his life was planned out for him.

but there were a few problems.

"dad, i'm gay."

this simple, three word sentence provoked laughter from the aforementioned man, who simply took another drag of his cigar

"stop joking, park." his sperm donor simply stated, before chuckling once again— as if the mere thought was absolutely ridiculous.

park jimin, being only sixteen at the time, nervously laughed along with his father, quickly exiting the room.

as soon as he shut the door, he felt a familiar clench around his lungs. complacency doesn't equate to serenity. the infinite stagnancy of his situation yielded no joy, but a vicious cycle of regret; only birthing stellar remnants burning behind the grey, cloudy canvas of his mind. an unknown component of dark matter twirled in his heart like ballerina's; heaven's eyes gazed into the mirror, gold complexion dimmed to a pale yellow. the untutored youth started remembering how easily it was to smile before. a grin like medicine when one forgets to see the sky, soothing and still as love's best habit.

now, he was as ugly as sin. his smile, an certainly artificial pretense masking his bittersweet reality, was dripping with pounds of molasses to cover up the sour taste his reflection left on his velvety tongue. it would purse his lips, crease his cheeks-but his eyes dropped downwards, weighted with the heavy bags that insomnia pills couldn't solve. too hard, too quiet, too much.

(sometimes, he sees inklings of who he used to be fragmented in the way he walks, and his signature running his hands through his hair; but now he forgot how to speak and everything comes out wrong, anyways.)

his heart slammed against chest in a flurry of anxiety. his breaths came out in shallow gasps, the room starting to spin.

that's what he was to him. a joke. who he was—if it were ever revealed, he would just be another thing to laugh at.

his father, the one who knew not of happiness, but of laughter. of cold, mocking laughter and bitter jokes.

c'mon jimin, you're just over reacting. your dad wouldn't hate you just because of your sexuality.

tears sprung to his pitiful eyes— but he would. he totally, most definitely would. he quickly rushes to his room in fear of his dad seeing him like this. in fear that he would be criticized—or worse— by him once again.

jimin is moving about the room like there's a hurricane inside of him. he's moving like his brain is demanding the energetic expenditure of an athlete but won't tell his limbs what to do. his eyes were wild and frenzied, sitting on his bed and rocking, rocking, rocking. he couldn't breathe-holy fuck. he wasn't okay.