... And Other Ships

YoonMin: Smoke

This story is an elaboration off of a two-part mini-series by . It's called Colors. Part One is on her first oneshots book and Part Two is on her second oneshots book. Please read them before you read this one. Thank you so much for letting me do this, doll! You're a true blessing!

Jung Jimin, now twenty-two, had moved away from his parents and the town where his first love lay buried under the earth. Kim Taehyung had died senior year of high school all because of Jimin and his stupid mistake. He should have talked to him about his feelings for his father instead of finding out six months into their relationship. He shouldn't have gotten mad. He shouldn't have told him he hated him because he didn't.

He never hated Taehyung. But now his blue love was grey underneath the earth, taking Jimin's orange aura and his family's colors with him.

The Jung family had changed drastically since Taehyung's death. Jimin's beautiful mother, Solar, argued with his loving father, Hoseok. They used to never argue until Taehyung had died. But now their sweet words and gentle gazed were morphed with venom and cold glances. It was like all their warmth was drained from them, leaving two cold shells of the creatures they used to be.

One night, Jimin sat upon the steps and listened to his parents fight. There was yelling from Solar, matched with Hoseok's quiet please for his wife to just listen to him. Then was the screaming of the words, "You fucking faggot! You pervert! He was only a kid!" and a loud slap. Then silence. And Jimin knew.

The only boy he'd ever loved, the boy who took pictures of everything and saw people as colors, his royal-blue boyfriend, was in love not with Jimin, but with Hoseok. Taehyung had only used Jimin to get closer to his father, to try to fulfill his craving for the older man, but had only ended up dead because of Jimin's mistake. And when he heard his mother's shrill words that night, Jimin understood that his own father had been in love with Taehyung, too.

But never did he speak of it. Instead, he quietly graduated high school and got accepted into the Seoul University for Performing/Visual Arts. He wordlessly loaded his new Jeep with all of his possessions and left his childhood home, his parents, his school, everything.

And he left the memory of his faded blue boyfriend behind, too.

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But now Jung Jimin sits outside of a café in Seoul, cigarette in his hand as he watches strangers live their daily lives. He had started smoking about a month after the funeral; it was the only way he could cope with his paralyzing depression without inflicting pain upon himself. His messy black hair ruffles slightly in the summer breeze as he smokes, taking note of the world his first love used to.

A couple sits on a bench feeding pigeons. A child tugs his mother's hand, eagerly moving ina certain direction as she follows behind him. A girl in a tank-top and short-shorts walks into the café. And smoke from his cigarette clouds it all.

He sighs as he looks down at his arm. Down the side, in black ink, are the words, 'The day you left was the day all color drained from my world.' It is in cursive, which not many people can read because of their limited English, but it holds a deeper meaning than anyone will ever know. The ink is permanent, just like Jimin's black hair. It's a permanent reminder of the mess that he created.

"Excuse me," a deep, rough voice says. Jimin looks up as he blows out a puff of smoke, which slowly starts to dissipate in the breeze. He sees a man with skin whiter than snow, blonde hair showing a black undercut and the beginning of black roots. The man's face is hard; thin, chapped lips, jawline sharp enough to cut your finger, pointed chin, prominent cheek bones, dark eyebrows.

But it's the man's eyes that catch him off guard. They care a beautiful brown, like a dark brown abyss ready to grab Jimin and bring him down if he gets too close. But while his gaze seems harsh, Jimin can see how soft they are, the sweetness they hide deep in the irises. Those eyes make him feel somewhat lighter in a way that he can't explain.