Chapter Text
You're so gorgeous
I can't say anything to your face
'Cause look at your face
-
23-year old Kim Taehyung hates Park Jimin—and his reasons are endless.
The photographer from Daegu holds up his camera, zooming in and out. As he struggles to find the right angle, he can’t help but resent the model. Jimin makes Taehyung’s job seem so easy; all he has to do is pose and Tae already has a good shot. There’s no such thing as a bad angle when you’re Park Jimin.
And Taehyung hates him for that.
“Okay, look at me now, Jiminnie,” coaches the lead photographer.
Jimin does as he is told; he raises a hand and runs it through his golden locks, leaving the entire room breathless. It’s no wonder he’s one of the agency’s top models; the man’s effortless charisma can give and take life.
“More glamour, Minnie. That’s it. Stretch your fingers. Pout more.”
Anyone would’ve looked like a complete idiot wearing a jumper over a fluffy turtle neck. But when you’re Park Jimin, anything looks good on you.
“That’s gorgeous, Jimin!” praises the head photographer, “Now look at Tae’s angle.”
Jimin shoves his hands inside his jumper’s pockets before directing his deadly gaze at Taehyung.
Not me. Not today, Park Jimin.
Alas, as hard as he tried, Taehyung can’t help but still be stunned by Jimin’s gaze, which pierces through his lens.
“A little bend—that’s it, Jimin-ah! Excellent!”
Tae clicks continuously, capturing Jimin here and there. His camera stores images of the model’s flawless and pale skin, long lashes, small yet slender fingers, and pink, kissable lips.
As much as he hates to admit it, this fellow 95-liner is the only model he knows capable of owning every single angle that exists. The man even dominates selcas taken from below, for crying out loud.
“And that’s a wrap!” announces the shoot’s director, “Great job, everyone—especially you, Jimin! Well done, as usual!”
Upon hearing the director’s praise, Jimin drops his sultry eyes, exchanging them for his trademark smiley ones. He bows respectfully.
“Thank you so much, Director-nim,” he says, “Thanks for the opportunity. I’m glad you gave it to someone like me.”
“Couldn’t find any person better for the job, Jimin-ah. You’re the perfect one.”
Immediately, the model’s cheeks blush.
“Thank you Director-nim. Really look forward to working with you again.”
Nearby, a group of stylists are huddled and quietly gushing over the model. They peer at his face and talk about his perfect nose, eyes, and lips. As Taehyung removes his lens, he hears their discussion about Park Jimin.
“…his skin looks like porcelain. I want to touch it.”
“In Na is a lucky bitch. She styled him.”
“She said he looks like an angel. He’s also really nice.”
“Nice and gorgeous? What a dreamy combination.”
Taehyung scoffs while he removes the memory card.
Everyone says the same thing about Park Jimin the Model—he’s nice, he’s amazing and the top keyword: gorgeous.
“Hey there, Tae.”
The photographer turns around at the sound of his name.
Unlike his model persona, Jimin smiles at him comfortably. It’s that warm smile that snatches thousands of hearts whenever he appears on the glossy covers of magazines. Hands in his pockets (thousand dollar Gucci jeans), he beams at the clueless photographer.
“Oh, hey,” greets back a nonchalant Taehyung.
“Thanks for today,” says Jimin, “I saw some of your shots from yesterday. You made me look great.”
“Part of a day’s work.”
“You’ve always had a knack for these things.”
“Not really. I just do my job well.”
He closes his camera bag. Opposite him, he senses Jimin looking at him with uncertainty but still maintaining that smile.
“So modest, Kim Taehyung.”
The photographer merely shrugs and takes his bag.
“Hey, I…kind of have to go,” he tells Jimin in a deadpan voice, “The director’s going to need the memory card. It was nice shooting with you today, Jimin.” He nods before he goes his way.
“Tae?”
Taehyung looks back again.
“Yeah?”
Jimin approaches him and touches his arm.
“I…thanks for today,” he repeats, “We should talk soon.”
The 23-year old photographer stares back at the 23-year old model. Jimin doesn’t need makeup to look better, but that contour and eyeshadow combination does amazing wonders for him. His eyes are so soulful, Taehyung could drown in them if he wanted to.
But not now. Never again.
“Sure,” he says shortly, before leaving.
It’s an ultimately new feeling—not experiencing anything. His hand automatically touches the scars on his chest.
He has been fine for years and he wants to keep it that way.
You should take it as a compliment
That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk
You should think about the consequence
Of your magnetic field being a little too strong
-
Taehyung doesn’t usually get drunk, but when he does, he starts talking nonsense.
It’s another after party celebrating the success of InStyle KR—one of the country’s biggest fashion magazines. All the big names in the industry are gathered in a high-end bar in downtown Seoul. Taehyung considers himself lucky for being part on the guest list.
By his third glass (he doesn’t have a high tolerance for alcohol, unfortunately), he was already speaking in gibberish.
“…not but seriously, I think Satoori is hot,” comments Jeon Jungkook, one of his fellow photographers, “It’s a drawl that’s sexy and charming at the same time. I used to do it all the time, but Seoul rubbed on me.”
“Why are we talking about this again?” asks their friend and model Park Bogum.
“Because Taehyung hyung is being mean, saying Satoori is lame. Look who’s talking—just because you adapted the Seoul lifestyle, doesn’t mean you can ditch your roots, Daegu boy.”
Taehyung smacks his lips as he downs his third glass of G&T. “Why do you think I worked so hard to improve my accent?”
“But you still go Satoori on us when you’re mad.”
“Which is why I keep calm at all times, hombre.”
“Stop the Mexican accent, for the love of God.”
Taehyung ignores his friends and loudly asks for another round of gin and tonic. While he waits, he looks around the place, observing the event. The party is in full-swing already; after the opening remarks and other formalities, majority of the guests are drinking and socializing.
Nearby, he notices a small crowd forming—most of them are women. Taehyung hears them giggling and talking in high-pitched tones. His blurry vision attempts to adjusts and see what they’re fussing over.
When he sees it, he understands.
In the middle of the circle is Park Jimin, downing one shot after the other. Someone must’ve dared him to do a shot challenge; the model is bent on finishing shots while one of the women holds a timer. Once he downs the last one, he lets out a drunken sound of victory and slams the glass to the floor.
“TAKE THAT,” he exclaims, “ALL TEN IN ONE FUCKING MINUTE.”
The women cheer as Jimin raises his hands, doing a little victory dance. It’s obvious that he’s wasted too; like Taehyung, he’s speaking nonsense. But in his case, he does so sexily, everyone around him is just amazed or aroused.
“I AM THE DRUNK KING, BITCHES!” he declares, pumping his fist in the air, “NO ONE CAN DETHRONE ME.” He steps up a chair and opens his arms. “I’M THE KING OF THE FUCKING WORLD!”
Jungkook smirks at the sight.
“See? Satoori is sexy,” he tells Bogum and Taehyung, “Actually, Park Jimin and Satoori is the hottest combination to exist.”
Taehyung scoffs. “His accent isn’t sexy,” he says, “He sounds like an uncle who tried to make it big in the city but ended up in the kimchi farm. I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD LOOK AT ME OOOH,” he mimics, mocking Jimin’s accent with exaggerated arm movements.
“Woah there.”
“Listen to it carefully then. He just keeps on growling; that’s why his Satoori sounds better in your ear. But to be honest, it’s annoying.”
Bogum raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, those women don’t think so,” he argues, pointing to the circle, “Look at them fawn over him.”
“They always do,” acknowledges Jungkook, “Park Jimin is this charismatic man-god who charms the hell out of everyone.”
True enough, Jimin’s circle of chaos includes girlish giggles, plenty of smacking in delight, and gushes. They’re obviously smitten by the model despite his drunkenness. When Jimin takes his top off, they go wilder than rabid dogs.
The photographer shakes his head.
“God, he should stop seducing them with his unpleasant accent,” he remarks, “If he gets one or more of them pregnant, I don’t think he can cover for a hundred claims for child support.”
“What do you have against Park Jimin anyway?” asks Jungkook, accepting his drink from a waiter, “You’re always like this with him—salty. Was he unpleasant when you took his photos? Did he bitch out on you?”
The older photographer says nothing. Instead, he takes his drink from the waiter and keeps his eye on the circle. Jimin is still speaking nonsense, impressing everyone with his little lap dance. His Satoori floats in the air.
Before, it would have severely affected him. Now, it’s no longer the case.
It hasn’t been for years.
And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us
He's in the club doing, I don't know what
You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)
-
What time are you coming home? Love you.
Taehyung closes his phone and heaves a sigh. It’s the third text he sent and still no reply. Despite dating for two years already, he’s still not used to Yoongi’s bad habit of not replying.
He knows his 25-year old boyfriend is at the club. As an underground rapper, Yoongi grabs every opportunity and offer that enables him to showcase his talent. He’s not a big fan of clubs, but when the one located near their apartment announced a rap-off event, Yoongi just had to go.
Taehyung doesn’t mind; he’s still stuck at a shoot. But he’d appreciate a text at least.
“Taehyung-ah! Check your photos here!”
Immediately, he responds to the director’s call. He walks towards the editing stations where everyone’s busy sorting through photos. Beside the director stands one of the editors of InStyle KR. At the sight of him, Taehyung shivers.
Kim Seokjin is the epitome of cool and handsome with a dash of bitchiness. Sometimes, he’s super nice, but when the photos are below the superior standard, he can kick ass. Taehyung knows that well—his ass has been kicked one too many times.
“Hello sir,” he greets the editor.
Jin barely notices him; he’s too focused on last week’s batch of photos. Most of them are of the one and only Park Jimin.
“Goddamnit, that boy knows how to take a good photo,” he comments, “It’s difficult to choose one for the cover. I could have them make two versions, but choosing just two is hard too.” He then glances at Taehyung. “You must’ve had it easy.”
The photographer tries his best not to scoff. Instead, he forces a smile.
“Er...I guess so,” he replies.
“Jimin is a master when it comes to working the camera,” comments the director, “I understand the dilemma, Jin. Even I couldn’t pick; good thing that’s your job.”
“Look at that kid. I don’t know if his parents saved the country in their previous lives, but they’re so blessed to have a handsome son like him,” notes Jin. He then points at one of Jimin’s photos. “He’s the perfect balance between masculinity and femininity for Pete’s sake.”
“It doesn’t help that he knows his angles. Well, Minnie never had a bad angle anyway.”
Jin rolls his eyes. “Ah well, it’s a Jimin thing,” he conclude.
The two continue to fawn over the model’s good looks, clueless to Taehyung’s look of displeasure. As Jin and the director dote over Jimin’s good looks, he suppresses himself from making a snide remark. He can’t butt in anyway; they’re too busy talking about Jimin’s chiselled chin, his rightly pointed nose, those blonde locks and everything.
“Taehyung-ah?”
He snaps back to reality. “Yes?”
“If your photos are okay, you can stay by the waiting room,” says the director, “Jin and I will peruse through your copies.”
“They’re all good.”
“Okay, you did a great job Taehyung,” comments Jin, clasping his back, “Now go wait.”
The photographer does as he is told. He leaves the pair to continuously dote over Jimin’s photos. He’s glad to leave anyway.
Once he steps out, Taehyung considers getting a drink from the vending machine. He approaches the one nearby and digs in his pockets for change. Tae fishes out a couple of bills and his phone.
Speaking of his phone—
He checks if he has any messages (or if Yoongi texted at all). When he opens his phone, he sees a solitary unknown number. Immediately, he opens it.
Later than 7. Phone died. See you later. – Yoongs.
How romantic.
Taehyung heaves a frustrated sigh as he shoves his phone back in his pockets.
Older by two years, Yoongi has always been the serious one in their relationship. He’s the exact opposite of Tae, which he loved. The only things they had in common are they’re both from Daegu, they enjoy eating, and have a passion for rap—the difference is Yoongi is an actual rapper while Taehyung is just a boy who tries to rap.
They met at one of the local rap-offs. It only took six months before they decided they actually liked each other and gave dating a chance.
Tae has no reservations about their relationship. Still, things haven’t been as smooth between them. Yoongi’s deadpan attitude to life in general is starting to annoy him. Even the simple act of texting is too much for his 25-year old boyfriend. Sometimes, Taehyung feels like he’s dating a grandfather.
“Aisht, an I love you too would’ve been appreciated,” he complains in a small voice.
“Hey there.”
Taehyung jumps in surprise at the sound of Park Jimin’s voice.
The model stands by the closed door of the studio’s room. Unlike the previous days, Jimin is not dressed to the nines this time. That simple white shirt and denim pants combination, however, still look good on him—almost as if he just stepped out a catalogue.
“Oh, hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Submitted my photos,” answers Taehyung promptly, “You?”
“Jin hyung wanted me to see the photos you took,” replies Jimin, a bright smile on his face, “He said he’s having a hard time deciding.” He rubs his arms sheepishly. “I honestly don’t know how I can help. I mean...I’m not good at things like that.”
Trust Jimin to showcase his humble side to Taehyung. Unlike his fierce and glamorous model persona, Park Jimin off-camera is an actual marshmallow who wants to make people happy.
“You’ll do well,” he says shortly, returning his attention to the vending machine. He takes out a crumpled bill from his pockets and selects a drink.
“So...um...whose I love you would you have appreciated?”
It seems like an out-there question for someone like the model. Even his boss would probably not ask him that.
Maybe Jimin thinks he still has the right to ask?
“My boyfriend,” Taehyung answers in a flat voice.
Jimin’s eyes widen. “Oh...you have a boyfriend already?”
“Yeah.”
“Someone I know?”
“No. He’s a rapper.”
“Same age, huh?”
“No. He’s 25 years old.”
“I see,” he comments, “What’d you like about him?”
“He likes to hold hands.”
“Oh.”
Awkward silence.
“Are you...experiencing trouble with him?” asks Jimin.
Does he honestly think he can ask me these questions?
Taehyung stares at the model opposite him, hoping his telepathy would work and send said question to him. Unfortunately, Jimin just stares back at him, actually waiting for an answer.
“No. It’s just...texting,” answers Taehyung, “He just...didn’t say I love you. But it’s good. I’m just being dramatic.”
The model chuckles. “You’ve always been like that. Even before.”
He’s about to set Jimin straight when the door opens. Jin and the director appear, halting the conversation between the two.
“Ah Jimin, you’re here,” says Jin, “You’re early. I texted you just an hour ago.”
Jimin smiles shyly. “I was around the area anyway, hyung. I told the driver to drop me off here.”
The director gazes at them. “Oh, I see you’ve met Taehyung again,” he notices, “I don’t know if you remember him, but he was one of the photographers from the shoot. Most of the photos are from him.”
“I do remember him,” says Jimin, “Actually, I already know him.”
“Really now?” asks Jin, “Did you two work on some other shoot before?”
Jimin runs a hand through his hair. “No...this is the first time,” he says, “We go way back.”
“Way back?”
Taehyung averts his gaze, choosing to stare at the floor and admire the tiles. Unfortunately, he feels Jimin’s eyes rest on him.
“Yeah...we’re childhood friends.”
You should take it as a compliment
That I'm talking to everyone here but you
And you should think about the consequence
Of you touching my hand in the darkened room
-
The Dark Room Experience celebrates traditional photography and takes guests to the old days of Polaroids, film, and shaky 20th century camera models. Everyone’s having a gale time at the event, especially hardcore photography aficionado Kim Taehyung.
The 23-year old peers excitedly behind the glass, amazed at the Plaubel Makina W67 (Damn, it’s still in good condition) and the Yashica Mat 124G sitting next to it.
“That’s goddamn beautiful,” he remarks.
“Isn’t it?” asks Jungkook, standing beside him, “My father was a sucker for vintage cameras. He passed that gene to me and I’m resenting it.”
Taehyung straightens up and looks around the exhibit. It’s only been an hour since it formally opened, but a number of photographers have arrived. He spots his personal favorite Ante Badzim nearby, conversing with one of Tae’s bosses in the studio.
“Oh my god, Ante Badzim!” he exclaims to Jungkook.
“Calm down, hyung. You’ll get your chance.”
“Ugh, I wish. Maybe after everyone’s had way too many drinks I can fan boy over his work. That is…if we can pry him away from those people around him.”
“Ugh, so impatient,” notes Jungkook, sipping his wine. He sets his glass on a cocktail table. “By the way, did you see the darkrooms? They’re amazing.”
“You’ve gone inside?”
“Yep.”
“Thanks for the invite.”
“Sorry, I got so distracted. Besides, they only allow two people in at a time. There are separate entrances one each side of the room.”
“Wanna come with me again?”
“Nah. Go crazy on your own, Tae hyung.”
As Jungkook complains about the wine, Tae surveys the people coming in from the entrance. He wishes more of his favorite photographers would arrive tonight; he’d wet his pants for sure.
Executives from one of Korea’s top magazines enter instead. It’s a downer for the excited Tae Tae. He’s about to order wine again when he sees a familiar face enter with them.
Even from afar Park Jimin is still stunning as ever.
What the hell is he doing here?
“…and if it’s any consolation, you’re doing well for someone who’s undergoing a breakup.”
“Huh?”
He returns his attention to JK, who didn’t notice his momentary distractedness. The hyung is too busy staring at his wine glass.
“I said that you’re doing well; almost as if you didn’t break up with Yoongi hyung two weeks ago.”
Just last week, his ex-boyfriend voluntarily moved out of their shared apartment because he didn’t want to “make it harder like I already did for you.” Now, Tae’s alone at home and has to endure staring at the empty spaces Yoongi left behind.
“Am I?” he asks Jungkook, choosing to focus on the painful breakup instead of Jimin’s sudden presence.
“Yeah…it’s like you’re not even sad it happened.”
“I am; I just don’t show it,” explains the older photographer, “I mean…it’s been hard.” He runs a hand through his hair. “One way or another, I saw it coming and I guess he did too. We’ve been dragging each for a year now. It was bound to happen but neither of us wanted to be the first one to pull the plug. I didn’t.”
“You really loved him, huh?”
“Of course I did. I still do,” confesses Taehyung, leaning on the table, “But it has been difficult. I still wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out for him…but he’s not there. You know me—I need someone to sleep better.” He sighs. “I’m trying to get used to it, really.”
Jungkook rubs his shoulder. “Well, I think you’re doing well, hyung,” he remarks, “Not everyone can show up to an exhibit in one piece and not breakdown.”
“That’s why I’m here. I need to distract myself. It’s so lonely at my apartment.”
“Want me to move in?” he asks, wrapping an arm around the dongsaeng, eyes flashing seductively. Taehyung pushes the dongsaeng away.
“Ew no.”
Jungkook laughs and takes a swig of his wine. As Taehyung texts on his phone (his mother is asking if he wants rice cake soup for tomorrow), he hears JK gasp.
“Well look who it is,” says Kookie, “Park Jimin graces this occasion with his presence.”
Jimin is just a few feet away and is busy conversing with some of the guests. Like the others people who meet him, they wear the same starry-eyed amazed expression.
“I thought this event was for photographers only,” says Taehyung.
“Not really. Or you know… he could be interested with photography.”
“As if.”
“Do you have a beef with him or something?”
Taehyung traces the rim of his wine glass. “No, I just...find him annoying.”
“What? He’s such a good person though. I heard plenty of good things. Some of my friends say he’s really nice and not a diva, which is a good thing because you don’t get a lot of models like that.” He downs his glass wine and smacks his lips. “I actually wish I could work with him. He looks gorgeous.”
Taehyung says nothing; instead, he keeps his eyes ahead.
Is it just him or is Jimin closer now? A few seconds ago, he was a few feet away—now, only a few tables separate them. He bows his head, hoping the model wouldn’t notice him. Taehyung’s not in the mood to be civil right now.
“Look, he’s talking to Ante Badzim!” exclaims Jungkook.
The mention of his idol’s name forces Taehyung to look up and watch his favourite photographer eagerly converse with Park Jimin. He bets Jimin doesn’t even know Ante; the former has always been bad with names, but here he is—pretending to know the photographer and all. It annoys the heck out of Taehyung.
“Being a model sure has its perks,” he comments bitterly.
“Ah don’t be so petty, hyung. I told you—you’ll get your chance.”
He tries not to be sour, but the idea that Jimin getting everything that he wants is killing the last ounce of positivity in his body.
“I need another drink,” he announces. He turns around and searches for a waiter; there’s none within reach.
Park Jimin, however, is only few meters away. In fact, only a crowd separates them now and this time, he’s staring at Taehyung right in the eyes. A small and uncertain smile appears on his beautiful face.
Shit.
No, Tae’s definitely got no time for this nonsense.
“Kookie, I’m going to the Dark Room now,” he tells his dongsaeng quickly.
“Now? I thought you wanted to drink some more.”
“Nah, I’m good.” He plunks down the glass.
“Boy, you’re in a hurry. The line’s not that long anyway. You can still have another glass.”
Jimin is already walking towards their direction.
“Yeah no, I’m fine already,” explains Taehyung, walking behind JK, “I’ll see you later. Don’t go home without me.”
Before Jimin could reach him, the photographer had already walked away, weaving through the groups of people. He dodges a waiter’s tray, almost bumps into countless people, and nearly spills a guest’s drink, but he doesn’t care.
Anything to get away.
He talks to a few people along the way. A familiar face gives him the license to pretend that Jimin is not nearby. Unfortunately, these conversations are short-lived and Tae has to keep moving forward. He needs to look busy so that he has the excuse.
Finally, he reaches the Dark Room.
“Anyone in there?” he asks the attendant.
She smiles at him. “No one, actually,” she says, “You can go in.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Taehyung thanks her and proceeds inside the mini exhibit—his sanctuary in this place.
Once he steps inside, he completely forgets about Park Jimin. The art of photography has always had a calming effect on him. He gazes at the negatives hanging by clips on a string, which takes away his breath.
He’s only used a dark room once or thrice. When he volunteered for the school paper, they were taught him how to print photos in a darkroom. But that didn’t last long—computers and printers made the job easier. Still, Tae thought traditional photo developing is THE shit.
“This is amazing,” he murmurs, touching the old equipment.
“Isn’t it?”
He almost bumps into a vintage camera at the sound of Jimin’s voice.
Even in the darkroom, the model manages to stun him. Jimin wears an expensive-looking leather jacket decorated with studs and some tight ripped jeans. Those boots—are they Gucci or LVs? Taehyung can’t tell.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, a little hostile.
Jimin is already observing the negatives on a string. “Wanted to learn more about traditional photography,” he answers, “Was given ten minutes to learn about darkrooms.”
“You’re not a photographer.”
“I don’t have to be just to appreciate the art.”
He smiles a little as he continues to observe the darkroom exhibit while Taehyung silently fumes. He can’t believe the model dared to tarnish his sanctuary.
“Well, I hope you have fun,” he says, “I’ll go ahead.”
“Tae Tae, wait.”
A small hand wraps around Taehyung’s wrist, causing him to stop. He hasn’t heard that nickname in such a long time. Only one person was allowed to call him that—and that person is gripping on his arm tightly.
He turns around and sees Jimin staring intently at him.
“You can’t keep avoiding me like this,” he says, “You know we need to talk.”
“Talk about what? I don’t have anything to say.”
“Yes you do,” insists the model, “You have a lot.”
“Does it matter?”
Jimin frowns. “It matters to me,” he says, “You were my best friend, Tae Tae.”
Something stings Taehyung’s heart and it’s not pleasant. As he towers over Jimin, memories come crawling back to him—first day of school meetings, laughter down the hallways, and afternoon hangouts. He can hear himself laughing at some godforsaken joke about jams and rice cakes.
“Were—that’s the operative word there,” he remarks.
Jimin heaves a sigh. “Tae, I know I hurt you. I’m not stupid,” he says, “But I figured time heals all wounds. I know you can’t stay mad at me, Tae Tae. I also want you to know that I felt really bad. I didn’t want it to happen, but life—“
“Took its course, huh?” finishes the photographer, “Life took you to a go-see where you were casted as a model. That happened and three weeks later, you forgot that I existed.”
“I didn’t forget you existed.”
“Tell that to the numerous times you ditched me or failed to even call,” shots Taehyung, “Tell that to the time you fucking invited me to a party and pretended to not even know me. But then again, why would you? I was just a scrawny, farm boy who was a total misfit in that sea of models and beautiful people.”
“There were so many people that time—“
“No, there weren’t. Don’t lie, Park Jimin,” says the now aggravated photographer, “You completely ignored me countless times and ditched me for better friends. And you have the fucking nerve to tell me that you want to talk to me now?” He scoffs. “Why? Is it because I’m a good photographer now? Is it because I qualify?”
Jimin’s already biting his lips, his cheeks reddening. “Taehyungie, that’s not the point,” he says, “I’m sorry if I was a jerk. I just want to be your friend again.”
It has been five years since they were friends; a few months since they first saw each other again after falling out. Since then, Taehyung has sworn that he’s never falling in that trap again.
He removes his arm from the model’s hold.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” he says before walking away, leaving Jimin in the middle of the darkroom.
As he saunters away, Taehyung feels a sudden stab of pain. He stops in the hallway, one hand on his chest. His round eyes widen at the unexpected jolt.
It can’t be, right?
The pain is hauntingly familiar, but the photographer refuses to recognize it. Is his mind playing tricks on him? He did imagine the sensation, right? Because he can’t possibly have it again—he had been fine for a number of years after the procedure.
In an instant, it’s all gone.
Taehyung heaves a sigh of relief, rubbing his chest.
It’s probably indigestion or something, he concludes, It’s nothing, Taehyung. It’s not that.
Once he catches his breath, the photographer straightens up and starts walking, albeit a little wobbly. He’s relieved it’s just a quick case of chest pains and not choking on flowers constricting his chest.
That’s ancient history already.
If you got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her
But if you're single that's honestly worse
'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts
-
“I heard the girlfriend’s coming.”
“What about her?”
Taehyung pretends he doesn’t hear the conversation between Jungkook and Choi Minho, another photographer. He busies himself with his lenses, deciding on which would give him the better focus.
“She’s not exactly the best human being in the world,” says Minho, “I’ve met her before and I can say that Park Jimin—the angel of the modelling world—is going out with the devil herself.”
“That’s pretty mean,” comments Jungkook as he stabilizes his tripod, “She can’t be that bad.”
“Oh kid, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Trust me.”
Minho walks off with his camera to coordinate the set design, leaving Kookie with a still busy Taehyung.
“You don’t think someone can be as evil as the devil, do you, hyung?” he asks, approaching the table, “I mean...that’s just terrible.”
“Why do you care?”
The dongsaeng shrugs. “I don’t know...maybe it’s because Park Jimin is such a nice person,” he concludes, “The idea that he’s going out with a bitch is kind of...upsetting? But then again, Minho hyung could be judgmental. I mean...just because they’re bitchy, doesn’t mean they are the devil.”
Taehyung gazes at Jungkook and pinches his cheeks. “Aren’t you so pure and believing in this world?” he asks.
“Ugh, stop that.” He pushes Tae’s hands away. The latter beams boxily at his dongsaeng and ruffles his hair.
“You clearly haven’t met any demons, Kookie.”
“Have you?”
“Baby demons, yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Okay everyone, the model’s here. Time to shoot!”
As soon as their director announced his presence, Park Jimin enters the scene, followed by his team of stylists and a woman Taehyung has never seen before. He can only guess it’s the girlfriend his Minho hyung was talking about.
“Wow...she does look...severe,” whispers Jungkook.
The girl holding on to Jimin’s hand is beautiful—just as beautiful as he is. Unlike the model, however, she seems to have perfected the art of scowling. She tells off one of the stylists for not curling his hair enough and for messing up his foundation.
It doesn’t help that she has an arm possessively wrapped around Jimin’s waist.
“She just knows what she’s doing,” defends Taehyung, taking his camera with him.
“Wow...aren’t you too pure and precious for this world, hyung?”
Tae shoves his dongsaeng as they approach the set. Once they arrive, Jimin is already in the middle, standing in his designer clothes and mastering his model swag. His assistant is nearby, wanting to fix him, but the girlfriend beats him to it.
He has never seen her before, but he has known that Jimin has been in a relationship for a while. She’s the daughter of a popular actress—a socialite. After all, only the best will work for Park Jimin.
No matter how bitchy the best is.
Jimin settles in the middle and scans the room, smiling at everyone. When his eyes land on Taehyung, he widens his smile. He gives a little wave, which baffles the photographer. Didn’t he just somehow diss Jimin just a week ago at that exhibit? Why is he still smiling now?
His girlfriend turns to look at Taehyung.
The stink eye is real.
“Taehyung-ah, come over here!” calls Kim Seokjin, “I want you to take Jimin’s side profiles. Jungkook, you stay on the other side. Minho, in the middle!”
Everyone takes their positions. Taehyung kneels by the right side and makes a couple of test shots. He aims his camera at Jimin, taking test shots of the popular model.
“Okay, let’s begin the shoot.”
Jimin’s girlfriend exits the scene but stands behind Jungkook. At the signal of the lead director, the photographers begin their jobs. The model leans on the stool, flashing his regular poses, while Tae and his friends click on their cameras.
“I think we need more wind,” says the girlfriend to the director, “My mom says wind makes everything sexier.”
“Indeed,” agrees the director, “More wind.”
Anyone would’ve looked like an idiot with that much wind effect, but not Jimin. He climbs up the stool, extends his hands, and pierces the camera with his good-looks. Taehyung focused on his jaw line, capturing the angelic yet devilish emotions he projected. He bent a little, taking photos of Jimin’s side profile.
It doesn’t help that Jimin always stares at his side of the shoot.
Thirty minutes later, they finish the first part. Jimin transforms back to his bubbly self, thanking everyone. Meanwhile, Taehyung rubs the sore spot on his back from all the bending. He takes off the memory card.
“...really thank you, Director-nim and Jin hyung. I feel so humbled that you chose me.”
“No one wears winter fashion better than you do, kid,” says Jin the Editor.
True enough, fur suits Jimin well—even Taehyung can see that. Still, he refuses to acknowledge that fact, choosing to busy himself with his camera.
“You did well, sweetie!”
Jimin’s unnamed girlfriend flings her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips.
He turns away.
How many times did he have to endure watching Jimin in the arms of someone else? It’s not like he cares now; it’s just that he’s tired of that image. He spent years of his life trying to pretend he’s okay with Jimin kissing someone else in front of him.
Now, it’s a different story.
Picking up his camera bag, Taehyung decides that he is stronger than before. For starters, he lives life without Jimin as his crutch; he’s no longer the meek Tae Tae who needed his best friend to show him the world. Second, he’s totally fine with his ex-best friend locking lips with someone else.
Totally fucking fine.
Before he could even get out of the room, his chest burns again for the nth time. Unlike the previous attacks, it’s fiercer and harder.
He clutches his chest, hoping to silently subdue the pain.
“Hyung?”
He turns around at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. The younger photographer is holding his camera; behind him, Taehyung can still see Jimin and his lover. His chest constricts more, but he keeps his face straight.
“What?”
“Are you leaving?”
“I’m actually going to let you do the second half,” decides Taehyung, handing Kookie one of his spare lenses, “I...sort of feel dizzy.”
“Are you okay?”
Tae shrugs and smiles—the usual combo. “Just super tired, I guess,” he says, “I just need a break.”
“Is it serious?”
The sting in his chest worsens.
“Not really.”
Jimin seems to be listening in their conversation. While his girlfriend clings on him like a needy cat, his eyes are nailed at Taehyung’s face.
“Hyung, are you sure?”
Jimin is still staring at him and he recognizes that look of worry on the model’s face. Taehyung has seen it one too many times before. He knows Jimin will either ask him or approach him—and he doesn’t want either to happen.
“Yes, now let me go Kookie,” he tells the younger photographer, “Otherwise, I’ll faint here because you kept me.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen. “Oh god, you’re right. I’m sorry hyung,” he apologizes, “Go ahead. I’ll cover for you.”
Taehyung smiles at him and makes his exit, hoping Jimin wouldn’t follow or anything.
He can’t have his former best friend see him vomit sunflower petals on the floor.
A month later, news about Jimin separating from his girlfriend hit the tabloids. The news came as a shock to the fashion and showbiz industry. But that’s just not the case anymore.
During his interviews, however, Park Jimin looks like he’s okay. No one asks him outright, but when they do touch the subject of relationships, he dodges the question smoothly.
“I’m doing fine,” he tells them, “Sometimes, life has different plans.”
When the word broke out, Taehyung was nowhere near the scene.
He was in bed—feverish and cold. His television was on that time, so he heard the news nonetheless. The frail photographer watched as media outlets discussed his ex-best friend’s recent heartbreak. They all had different opinions on the situation, but one thing, they say, is for certain—
“Park Jimin is back in the market.”
Tae thinks it’s unfortunate yet very fortunate that his sickness kicked in during these months. It gave him the excuse not to attend shoots with Jimin in it. Lord knows what would happen to him if he did.
But the idea that Jimin is single again.
To be honest, Taehyung liked it better when he was in a relationship.
All the possibilities
What possibilities are you thinking of? he told himself once, There are no possibilities. You said it yourself: Park Jimin will do more harm than good.
He pulls his blanket up for some warmth. Taehyung is sick to his stomach and is close to vomiting again. On some days, it would’ve been nothing, but yesterday, he visited the doctor who confirmed his fears.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” admitted the medical professional, “I have heard from colleagues that relapse is possible, but I’d never thought I’d handle one. After your surgery, you were cleared from all signs and symptoms.”
“What the hell happened?” asked a frustrated Taehyung, “I’m supposed to be fine.”
The doctor merely looked at him sympathetically. “Your body knows what it wants.”
Taehyung suppresses a shiver as he watches television from his bed. As expected, Jimin’s face appears on screen. The hosts are talking about his new projects and collaborations with big names in the fashion industry.
He mutes the show and just stares at the model’s profile.
His chest tightens. Immediately, he feels that unpleasant and scratchy sensation building up in his throat as the petals congest the narrow pathway. He coughs violently, his mouth releasing a handful of bright yellow petals.
The petals are soft against his long fingers. He caresses them gently, admiring the bright yellow hue and ignoring the fact that such beauty is capable of killing him.
He’s talking about Jimin—not the sunflower petals.