LETTER SIX
To Park Jimin
Our story is a tale I wish had a happy ending because if I could have a happy ending with anyone, I'd love for it to be with you.
But it depends on how you look at our ending. Maybe it was meant to happen, meant to be suitable, helpful for both of us and maybe our ending is still yet to come. I don't know.
You were like golden sunlight filtering through curtains, stolen glances and timid smiles that made my heart beat faster. You reminded me of making wishes on shooting stars from your small balcony, faithful forehead kisses, the scent of warm vanilla, handwritten love notes, cuddling under a big fluffy blanket, walking through a field of sunflowers and believing in magic and inevitable fate.
I remember the first time I thought I had met you, I thought you were so godly.
We met at a gay club.
I was leaning against the slate marble counter, my butt on a spinning stool as my eyes took in the drunken bodies letting loose, couples with drinks swaying around in their hands, splashing liquid onto the floor. The music was so riotous I wanted to cover my ears and I was crying at the bar... Alone, until you came along.
I was playing with the glass of alcohol in my hand when you approached me quietly with a complacent smile. Your hands were in the pockets of your black jeans, your button-up shirt exposing your pale chest and collarbone as you tilted your head, taking in the sight.
Me, drunk and unsettled.
God, your smile! You were looking at me in a way that made me feel uneasy but good about myself. There was a hint of mischief in those brick eyes and seeing a smile on that face twisted my insides because your lips turned upwards, your cheeks glowing with the colour of a pink rose and your eyes slightly disappeared. You were always so pleasing to the eye.
"Hey." You stepped forward, still looking at me. I was confused as to why you were talking to a stranger. "How are you doing?" But we were at a bar after all and people usually came here looking for someone to satisfy their lust, even if it was for one night.
"What are you doing at a gay bar?" You asked me, taking the leather seat beside me.
I thought I didn't hear you correctly. "A what? A gay bar?"
"Yes." You chuckled.
I had no idea.
"What am I doing here?" I clicked my tongue and took a lengthy drink of the toxic substance. "Trying to forget someone... You?" I'm an honest drunk.
You took the glass from my hands and drank from it. "Aren't we all?" You scoffed in dismay. Forgetting people was our forte.
Minutes passed and somehow, we moved physically closer- your hand resting on my thigh involuntarily, our faces inches apart and the eye contact between us was intimate and nerve-wracking. I was in my early twenties at a gay bar with a very enticing (possibly gay) stranger. I thought it was odd.
Then you asked me a question, your sultry breath fanning my face as I took in the smell of alcohol, smoke and your heavy cologne. Your eyes became hooded and your voice was deep but consoling.
"Can I?" You murmured and stared at my lips which caused me to look at yours. Fulsome thoughts running through our minds as I took in your pink plump lips-
How could I resist such a man?
So, I nodded.
The kiss made me feel barbarous. I never knew a stranger could make me feel such a way. A way in which my skin felt like it was burning under your skilful hands as they trailed down the sides of my arms to wrap around my waist.
The kiss surprised me. Tongues collided, hands messily trying to cling onto each other, feel needed after so long. You surprised me because you looked so raw, yet you were dangerous.
I realised when you bit my lip and I moaned that it was the kind of sweet danger I needed.
I was more surprised when I realised it wasn't our first meeting. I had met you before and I only found out because of a Polaroid stuck on your apartment wall.
Namjoon was your best friend. You were the boy who smoked a cigarette seated beside me on the bench outside of the hospital. I hadn't seen you since the funeral.
The last time I saw you is a dreadful memory to think about. Your tall, lanky frame in a black and white suit with your buttons secured up to your neck. Jittery hands, eyes lowered, no eye contact and pursued lips. Polished shoes on your feet as you helped carry the heavy coffin. Your hair in a spotless quiff as you kept a straight face the entire time, you never cried once.
But through meeting you a second time, becoming closer with you made me realise... You were still suffering because of his death. You were fighting alone.
As I write this letter near my open window, the smell of cigarette smoke fills the air around me and several memories rush into my mind, fighting for my attention and for once, I sit back in my chair, close my eyes and let it happen. I let myself think about you.
Your duality was hard to keep up with. One minute you'd be drawing or writing things on the shower glass such as hearts with yours and my name together with a bow and arrow, the next you'd have your hands in my hair, kissing my neck as I moaned your name.
We may have not been anything special. Nothing real or serious like a normal relationship but somehow, we were the best of friends. Friends with benefits.
Although we used each other to forget about someone who was hard to get over, we were here for each other and even though those three words were never spoken out loud- we knew. I liked how it felt mutual.
My parents thought we were together though. Technically we were because we saw each other almost every day and acted like a... Couple. You were the one who took the phone off me, telling my parents that you'd love to come to dinner and meet them.
It was a lovely night at my parent's cottage with candles, pasta and potatoes. Wine in glasses as we sat across from each other- shy smiles and flushed cheeks as we kicked each other. You were so serene and polite, the perfect boy to bring home to anyone's parents. A boy with contagious laughter and charm behind brown eyes that disappeared when he smiled.
You got on so well with the duo that gave birth to me. I remember the fuzzy feeling in my chest when you made my dad laugh as you both watched soccer. I made my way to my mom in the kitchen soon after, grabbing the cloth to dry the dishes that she was quickly washing. I waited for her to ask away.
"Do you love him?"
"Yes." I didn't hesitate.
"Then why aren't you together?"
It was complicated.
I peeked through the open door to see a glimpse of supple golden hair, a hand running through it. I heard a squeaky laugh followed by a voice I loved waking up to. "Because it's not going to last," I admitted with tiredness and looked away with sadness.
There was a part of me that wanted us to be more, for us to last forever. But we were fighting battles of our own. We needed to learn how to deal with being alone. It was a difficult path that we weren't willing to take.
"We're just temporary." I breathed out and leaned my head back, thinking too much and not wanting to let the tears fall. I felt so emotional. "But one thing I'm certain about... Is that it's going to hurt when he leaves."
"It's going to hurt like a bitch," I mumbled and forced a smile onto my face. "But it's okay because I know that what's left of our time together will be worthwhile." And it was.
Thank you for our time together. And most importantly, thank you for having the courage to do what we both needed. You are braver than you think.
You left me with a letter. That's what I woke up to instead of your face sleeping, your head laying on my pillow, your warm presence wrapped around me... I had a piece of scrapped paper that had been folded several times.
Seeing your writing made my heart squeeze as I sat up on my bed, the covers still covering my legs. The inky tacky letter was written quickly before sunrise.
We need to find ourselves.
I'll come back one day.
Don't waste time looking for me.
– Jimin
I cried all day and a few days after that.
You were my perplexing best friend and my lover in this unique, fatalistic life. I knew it would hurt when you left but why did you have to leave? It caught me by immense surprise, knowing this day would come one day.
I didn't look for you. You didn't want to be found and I understood, giving us both essential space and time. I knew you'd be at Namjoon's grave and I wanted to be there with you, hugging you.
I remember holding you in my shivering arms, stroking your hair back and kissing your knuckles for hours straight when you came to me crying your eyes out, wanting Namjoon back in your life. It was the night I found out two important things. First, you adored me. Second, Namjoon and you were more than friends.
We were just two tender adults who got involved with each other in ways to satisfy each other's needs. We didn't want to face the world. We were trying hard to forget someone who meant so much to us but lost dreadfully.
We needed to get rid of the mindset that we had, that another human, that the concept of love will mend our hearts because it will not.
I've learnt that now.
You walk on this earth, wanting to spread love and kindness to those who treat you right. Even though the world has thrown things at you, horrifying obstacles that may have tripped you once or twice. But you're brave because you jumped over those hardships, rose high with glowing cheekbones along with a luminous heart and soul.
You made me want to do everything and be everything. You inspired me. You were a quiet beauty that grew more radiant the more someone knew you. You made me excited to be alive. And maybe in another life, another world... you came back.
I love you, still.
I'll always remember you.
I'm still wishing for you to come back so we can try.
I hope you're doing whatever you've always wanted to do Jimin. I hope you're travelling, making people swoon and laugh with your angelic characteristics. I hope you're making happy memories.
It was always a see you later between us my love.
See you later, Seren