Unrequited Love - Ari Posner, Amin Bhatia
In a room equipped with a few chairs and nothing, it was a bit dark, only a few lights by two of the one doors in a dimly lit area were on. Jungkook sat in one of the chairs smiling timidly at the small screen. The little white light coming from the camera screen was illuminating his black eyes.
Hearing a noise by the door, he pulled his hand down and whipped his neck around. "Can I come in?" A blonde and younger-looking boy asked, his hands folded behind his back as his knees bucked to launch himself ahead.
"Come in, Frans," Jungkook smiled, jutting him in towards the chairs. "You don't require my permission for entry anywhere here."
Frans grinned, his silver septum ring shining as he stepped directly under the light. "What were you watching?" He asked without meaning to pry.
Jungkook laughed as he watched him slipping from the chair before he balanced himself. The 19-year-old was too cheerful for his own good. He spread the light so luminous, it shrouded the general gloom in Jungkook's life for a while. His hand flipped to show the video that was playing without sound.
Frans leaned in, watching with utmost attention at a group of eight men standing on top of a round, rotating platform and the camera shot them while they laughed and made funny faces. His eyes were especially stuck on Jungkook, who looked much younger than his 26-year-old current self, and also much more jubilant. "Woah! When was this taken?" He asked, suddenly popping the chewing gum in his mouth.
"I was working on the senior's yearbook. We shot a lot of things." Jungkook let a nostalgic smile consume him. "These are my seniors."
Before Frans could focus on others, the screen blackened and another video started playing. This was too without sound, and black and white. Frans jaws unhinged as he admired both the muse and the director of the clip. There was a man who was laughing and walking on a terrace, his ensemble looked white, or at least Frans imagine it to be. The air was the man's friend as it glided with him, giving more power to him, whisking his hair in just a way to capture anyone in the allure of it. "This one's retro. Is it an old clip?"
"Will you believe it if I said that this man walks and talks on the same earth at the same time as we do?" Jungkook asked, his smile bleak, sad even.
"No way! Dude!" Another bubble and then pop. "How could you possibly shoot this and didn't fall in love with him?" Wide eyes looked at Jungkook and then Frans' mouth stopped chewing. "You did," he said slowly, gaze turning to the ground. "This is Jimin. Isn't he? I - I am sorry. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to-"
Jungkook brushed Frans' hair roughly with his fingers, the made-up smile returning to save the boy from his despondency. "Don't worry about it, kid. It's been a long time. Six years long."
Frans looked up hesitantly, his eyes teary. Jungkook hugged him. When he was brought into the facility, he wasn't more than eighteen. Jungkook became fond of him instantly, talking to him, knowing that his story wasn't much different from his own, and sharing his special snacks with him, but he always made sure their equation remained secretive.
Frans nodded, hugging Jungkook back and staying in his arms for a moment. "When do you leave?" His voice was small.
"In two weeks," Jungkook pulled away and dug in his pocket to find anything.
"You'll send me pictures of Gwangan beach?" Frans demanded.
"Of course," Jungkook chuckled and handed him a bar of Toblerone.
Frans sniffled and stuffed the chocolate in his uniform pocket. "And the art museum?"
"I'll send you anything. I'll even take you when you are out. I'll only be one text away." Jungkook smiled.
"I know," Frans grinned, but the fear still peeked out from his eyes, fear of being alone.
**
Jimin was smoking in the front yard.
Rose was watching him through the window.
Jimin put the smoke out when Rose called his phone number. He put it against his ear. "Hey, are you okay?" He was already rushing back inside.
"Why were you smoking?" Rose asked, stopping him in his steps, but then he exhaled, his fist opening and then closing as he walked up to their bedroom.
"STOP!" Rose screamed in panic. "You can't come in here like that. Iseul." She whispered the last sentence.
Jimin nodded, irritated at Rose and irritated that he was irritated when she was right. He couldn't get near his baby with traces of smoke lingering around him. Walking up to the guest bedroom on the ground floor, he discarded his clothes on the floor, put his phone by the vanity, and stepped into the shower.
As he washed away the day's sweat and germs from the hospital, he felt heavier. Headache licked his temples as he washed his hair. Brushing his mouth, he started flossing and when he was done with the whole regime, he chose the pajama set from the armoire and stepped out.
As he made his way toward the small stroller, his eyes suddenly shone and the headache disappeared as if it didn't exist, to begin with. Iseul was looking at him with his beady, black eyes, and plump lips drooling. Jimin laughed. "Aish," he picked the baby up in his arms carefully and crouched on the floor.
The shame and mortification on his shoulders were weighing him extensively and he could seldom manage a hearty laugh, except when Iseul was staring back at him with no sense of the world, yet the infant made Jimin feel that he was putting all his trust in him like he was his whole world. "My Iseul's very pretty today," he spoke in a baby voice and the boy only blinked, trying to make noises. "Very pretty. So handsome. Mommy fed you well. Hm? Mommy fed you well."
The plump and tiny lips stretched and Jimin felt as though someone held a shade over his head on a hot sunny day. He brought the boy close, careful to support his head and his neck, and he smelled him deeply and giggled softly. "My boy." He still couldn't believe he helped make him.
When Rose's hand touched his shoulder, he looked up. Her face had worry written all over it. He got up, carrying Iseul, his arm patting him lightly and softly. "Let me put him to sleep," he asked softly, knowing they had to talk.
Rose nodded, covering the scarf tighter around her body. She smelled faintly of Dahlias and Jimin realized it was a new scent that she must've recently started wearing.
Putting Iseul in his crib, he stood there for a few minutes to ensure that he slept. When he paced back to bed, Rose was on the edge, rubbing a hand over her feet. Jimin sat beside her, taking the feet in his lap and massaging it. "Does it hurt, honey?" He asked.
"Mm," Rose moaned as Jimin's fingers massaged the heel and toes. "I get tired easily now." She nodded.
"You should rest more," he told her. Their normal conversations happened on low decibels now as they practically hushed into each other's ears.
"Are you okay?" She asked. "I am worried about you. You only smoke when there's something troubling you."
"Working again after paternity leave is tough. Being away from Iseul for such long hours... I didn't think about this before," Jimin laughed in a sad manner. "I am sorry for worrying you." He apologized, now increasing the pressure on her feet.
Rose moaned again, her palm clutching Jimin's shoulder as she inched near him. "Jimin," her voice needy.
"Yes, honey," Jimin mumbled, his lips spreading in a knowing smile. "Are you getting turned on with our son in the same room?"
"He won't find out," Rose laughed, her cheeks gaining color.
"Lay down," Jimin asked her, taking the remote to turn off the AC.
"No," she opposed. "No... You lay down, or stand up here." She pointed in front of her.
"Rose, no... I am good." Jimin denied it, but Rosenow's hands were already guiding the man onto the bed. She wasn't allowed to have intercourse for sixty days, but she could please her husband orally. One of the reasons she thought why Jimin was stressed lately could be sexual frustration.
In honesty, Jimin did. A little bit. Six months during pregnancy and then two months for recovery was a lot of time. Man had his needs. He lied down and let Rose take off his pants, helping her by getting them off entirely.
He hissed when he felt warmth around his penis, the slippery feeling making him moan as he closed his eyes and forgot about the other things. Rose began slowly and then worked up higher.
Jimin had to keep his groans low. It took him some time, but when he orgasmed, it felt like his eyesight turned a little better. Touching himself was different, but having someone bring a climax to him was surreal, especially when it happened to be after a long period of celibacy.
Forehead dotted with sweat, Rose was huffing, smiling at the ceiling. "That was amazing," she heard Jimin before she felt his hand on her waist.
Slowly by slowly, her lower body was naked, on display for her husband. "You don't have to." She mumbled, feeling conscious of her postpartum body.
"Why'd you say that?" Jimin was hovering above her, his heart twisting.
"I don't look like before anymore."
Guilt. Too much guilt. It consumed Jimin like smoke. It was everywhere, his hair, lungs, mouth, and blood. He has been so distracted, and vehement in his own mind that he wasn't there enough for his wife, to help her feel that she was still beautiful, to get out of her insecurities. Even if his feelings for her weren't what once was, she was still his responsibility. He still deeply cared for her.
He hated himself. He wished he could forget about Jungkook. He told himself that Jungkook didn't matter, he reprimanded himself that Jungkook was an anomaly and that everything would find its original path if he just carried on, crossed one more milestone, and lived one more day, but it wasn't going to happen. Lately, the more he tried to push Jungkook's thoughts under the rug, the more they bounced back at him, which was the worse timing.
Not only Jimin has been married for six years, but he also had a son now, and he had no other option than to swallow the bitter pills for the mistakes he didn't commit, so he moved down, determined to show his wife that he still cared, that he would do his duty of being a husband. And he made her happy, satisfied.
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27 Mar, 2023