JUNGKOOK IS DIFFERENT.

18/09

dandelions

when i went to play with jeongguk today,
something was off.
jeongguk wasn't smiling,
he was quiet.
his hands were tucked into his dandelion sweater,
fumbling against each other
like i do when i have to give a speech.

i don't know why i did,
but i grabbed jeongguk's shoulders.
his head perked up,
eyes blown wide open.
and for some reason i told him,
"it'll be alright."

jeongguk stayed silent for a second.
he stared back at me,
like he was as confused as me.
his mouth was open like he had something to say,
but no words fell out.

but then, a tear fell.
and another.
as though they were flooding out of him,
like he was holding them back for so long.

but he smiled.
he smiled the entire time,
the warmest smile i've ever seen.
it was like a giant paradox,
a bright smile worn on a broken boy.
it didn't feel right.
you're not supposed to smile when you're hurting.
but he did.

he did couldn't even breathe,
and he clung onto me and sobbed loudly,
whole body shaking the entire time.
every time he gasped,
his whole body would be lifted off of me.
his tears stained the turtle neck sweater,
dampening the dandelion.

but dandelions grow with water, right?

if he were to smile a big, bright smile,
the dandelion would die because it got no water.
and if he were to sob in pain, hurting all over,
the dandelion would grow.

because even though he was crying,
he was beautiful.
he grew something beautiful.

like a dandelion,
jeongguk is beautiful.

he germinated in my hands.