CIGARETTES AND TULIPS // jikook

17 - the guilt

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jimin stepped into the house, his body feeling heavy but his mind somehow lighter after spending the morning cleaning the bar with yoongi. the familiar scent of flowers greeted him as he closed the door behind him, kicking off his shoes with a sigh. he glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing he had spent more time than he thought helping out. his mom's voice floated from the kitchen, calling out to him.

"jimin-ah, you're home?" she asked, her voice warm and welcoming.

"yeah, just got back," he replied, making his way toward the kitchen.

when he stepped inside, he saw her standing by the counter, an apron tied around her waist, a soft smile on her face. her hair, slightly graying at the temples, was pulled back in a neat bun, and the soft light from the window reflected off her kind eyes. she looked up at him, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"perfect timing. i was about to start cooking. can you help?"

jimin hesitated for a second. he was tired, his muscles sore from scrubbing the floors at the bar, but there was something comforting about spending time with her, especially in the kitchen. it had been a while since they'd cooked together like this.

"sure, what are we making?" he asked, stepping closer and picking up the knife from the counter.

"just something simple. i've been craving some bibimbap, and i figured we could make enough for dinner tonight too."

as they started chopping vegetables in comfortable silence, jimin found himself lost in thought. it was moments like these that made him feel grounded — the soft rhythm of the knife against the cutting board, the sizzling sound of vegetables hitting the pan, the warmth of his mom's presence beside him. he watched her out of the corner of his eye, her face relaxed as she focused on the food in front of her. she'd always been like this — strong, steady, a constant in his life. they had built this life together, just the two of them. 

"you look tired, jiminie," she said softly, breaking the silence. "did you have fun with your friends last night?"

he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "yeah, it was fun. we had a few drinks, and i ended up helping them clean this morning."

she chuckled softly, shaking her head. "such a good boy. always helping others."

jimin bit the inside of his cheek, not sure how to respond to that. it was strange, hearing her call him that, when he felt so far from it. he wasn't the good son she thought he was. she didn't know about the  thoughts he had at night, the way he felt trapped in his own skin sometimes. 

he wished he could tell her, but how could he? she had been through so much already, carrying the weight of their lives on her own for so long. 

how could he burden her with his struggles?

"you've grown up so well, you know," she continued, her tone wistful. "after everything that happened with your father, i was so scared you'd end up hating me for leaving him."

jimin froze for a moment, his hands stilling over the chopping board. he hadn't expected her to bring up his dad. it wasn't something they talked about often. she rarely mentioned him at all.

"i never blamed you," he said quietly, resuming his work. "he... he wasn't a good person."

she nodded, her expression tightening slightly as she stirred the pot on the stove. "i know. but my parents... they didn't see it that way. leaving him was the hardest decision i ever made. i had to choose between my happiness and their approval, and for a long time, i felt like i had let them down."

jimin looked at her, really looked at her, and he saw the pain in her eyes, the same pain she'd probably carried for years without ever showing it to him. it was a familiar feeling, that quiet suffering, and for a brief moment, he wondered if they were more alike than he realized.

"but you never let me down, you did what was best for both of us," he said, his voice steady. "i'm glad you left."

her eyes softened at that, and she reached over, placing a gentle hand on his. "i just want you to be happy, jimin. that's all i've ever wanted."

jimin's breath caught in his throat at her words. she didn't say things like that often, not in such a straightforward way. he knew she loved him, of course, but hearing her say it was both comforting and heartbreaking. 

because how could he tell her that he wasn't happy? that he hadn't been happy for a long time?

it made him feel guilty.

"i know, mom," he said, forcing a smile. "i am."

but even as the words left his mouth, they felt like a lie. he wanted to be happy, for her. but the truth was, most days, he felt like he was just going through the motions, pretending to be okay when he was anything but.

they continued cooking in silence. jimin's mind drifted to jungkook, to the way he had looked that morning, sleeping peacefully on that bench at the bar, his face relaxed, his hair a mess. jimin had wanted to reach out, to brush the hair away from his face, to get closer, but something had held him back. 

just like with his mom, there was a part of him that was too scared to show the real him to jungkook. what if he didn't like what he saw?

"the flower shop's been doing well, you know," his mom said suddenly, breaking the silence. "it's a lot of work, but i'm so proud of it. doing it with you has made it even more special."

jimin looked at her, guilt gnawing at him. she had built this life for them — this flower shop, this home — and all she wanted was for him to be happy, to be a part of it. but he felt like he was letting her down.

"i'm glad we have it," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "i'm glad i can help you."

she smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek gently. "you're a good son, jiminie. i love you."

he swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears in his eyes. "i love you too, mom."

they finished cooking, the kitchen filled with the comforting smell of food. as they sat down to eat together, jimin couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of warmth and sadness. his mom's love surrounded him, but it also weighed on him in a weird way. 

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