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namjoon manages to get close enough. this should have been the first clue.
jungkook has stumbled on his words more than once – but never with poetry. if namjoon were not his best friend, then maybe images and dreams could play the part.
there is rain – an actual downpour of ways that have gone on and on. jungkook has stared at all of them from afar, looking up at namjoon, silently asking him where he should follow, and if it were okay to be vulnerable. because namjoon is the friend that makes jungkook question a lot – but nothing ever gets overwhelming. there are pace and beats when jungkook hears him sing and rap, and jungkook has written more poems about the stance that namjoon carries than he could have ever pictured staring at the most famous masterpieces in the current universe. and it is in that way that namjoon is the “best” friend. but the rain can cover everything all at once – it covers up his mind – before evaporating into something else.
the first poem that jungkook shares and dedicates to namjoon is unseen, concealed behind quick words and excuses, “just a thought—it’s nothing much.” but namjoon smiles, keeps it somewhere in his voice, and jungkook does not hear it again.
clues lie in vulnerability – maybe this is what jungkook would be able to say if he knew how to use words properly, clear like water, clear like rain.
it happens in a clock encaged against a pendulum of overthinking doubts, against the contrasting softness of a pillow, where jungkook tilts over the edge and parts his lips against invisible sighs and drops of sorrow; maybe this is what love truly feels like.
from this moment on, you would think that he would have learnt how to fly free, because this is what all his fantasies are made of – always running for winter flames and simplicity.
when jungkook dreams of kisses and intimate embraces, namjoon does not come up – this is not the kind of intimacy that he wants from him, but it does not make the value of his existence any less significant in the eyes present in his poems. the small parts, the softness of namjoon’s hands – all of this would have been enough in millions of different lifetimes.
the second poem that jungkook shares should mean more – but it would be wrong to infer that everything else had been less. for an instant, jungkook allows himself to believe that namjoon would perhaps understand.
jungkook wants to ask,
“what did you see? what did you see in my poem?” what did you see in me?
these questions come and go, uttered out in the open silence under artificial lights, when he is on his own and against the micro cosmos of his distant universe. because these are the kind of questions that you randomly ask yourself before you address them to others.
it means: who am i, truly – and why am i feeling this way?
(did you see it?)
he never asks them to namjoon.
it happens when jungkook is writing another fragment of poetry – ironically, it is when he is vulnerable enough to lose himself into subconsciousness while being in the presence of others. namjoon is seating in front of him, talking silently with yoongi, quietly enough so as not to interrupt jungkook’s thoughts.
jungkook unconsciously follows the rhythm of namjoon’s voice, lets himself swim amongst the fresh waves of silent infinities, before his heart skips a beat;
“—ah… i have – actually, i have a date, tonight. we can work on the rest tomorrow, though?”
it is one missing heartbeat – and jungkook expects the rest of the maddening cacophony to immediately follow and explode in his system. but nothing comes. nothing comes. he is still there; the words, messily scribbled in front of him, are still there. and frankly, nothing has changed. yoongi nods and gets back to his own work. namjoon keeps typing on his laptop. and jungkook is just there.
hollowness is the last thing he had expected. because that sentence should have made him happy. it should have made him glad that this was all over, that there would be no chance for him left. he should be happy for namjoon – and there is nothing that tells him otherwise. namjoon has a date, namjoon is living his life, and it does not change anything when it comes to namjoon and jungkook’s friendship;
but the word friendship stings and sticks too much. it is semantics that tears cannot get rid of.
(nothing could happen now).
and jungkook is not asking for more. jungkook was never asking for more. the blur between smiles and soft pressure, it is something that has always been combined for him. jungkook does not want to ask for more than what he and namjoon have. he wants nothing more than what namjoon gives him. being surrounded by warm truths and some dreams that are undone, what he feels is genuine and it is love it is love it is love. his poems are made of constellations and crimson fears and love,
but what a shame it is that the meaning of his truth just so happens to be different from the majority of people. what a shame would it be if jungkook ever plainly allowed himself to admit that? jungkook is in love with his friend as a friend. in the purest – brightest – platonic way.
jungkook was never asking for more, but he has never even asked.
he stares back at his poem without seeing anything.
hollowness is not what he wants. jungkook wants a reason to be mad, a reason to be sad; he wants a reason to be upset. namjoon is dating someone, and that someone is not jungkook. and the only thing that jungkook can think about is that this is fine.
jungkook wants a reason to make a dramatic exit, to sigh loudly – he wants namjoon to notice. but jungkook does not feel anything, he barely feels like it matters
(he barely feels like what he has concealed is valid and relevant)
so he does not move and waits for namjoon and yoongi to leave, first, instead.
and even then, nothing hits him but the gravity of time and space; figments of an impartial sky jungkook wishes he could fly into.
the truth is, jungkook is often terrified, because he is not sure whose hand he truly wants to hold in the end. he just knows that he craves contact – the kind of contact that he daydreams about, that connects him to a fragment of partial reality; something grounding enough to provide him with the ability to think,
this could be it. this could be worth opening up to.
(i want this.)
the kind of contact that he has never had. and that he is not sure he will ever get.
and it could all be gone now. because namjoon is going on a date, and jungkook will always come second, because something platonic will always come after romance, and what they all call love.
there are no tears when jungkook’s brain processes these thoughts; just a tight throat and a painful, struggling attachment to the world.
i want to at least try, and i wish i had the courage to do it.
just – at least – once.
please – why can’t i just feel this once?