"Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you."
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An original story by Bi...
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________________________________________________________________________ Wales, January 1419 A.D. River Wye - Monmouthshire
Jungkook's frowning at the water in front of him, seated alone by the shore of the same river that passes through both Saint Briavels and Llancafan. His frown deepens, the apple in his hold twirls between his slim fingers in a bored yet controlled gesture.
The red fruit is thrown in the air, high up, for a second covering the blinding light of the sun reaching the boy's face, and just when it is about to slam down onto the ground, Jungkook catches it, quickly wiping it with both hands, only then does he lift and look at it.
Pigmented red, smooth skin, he caresses the curve of it. He brings it to his own nose, taking a sniff of the sweet scent, the perfume he has grown to love, hate, miss and want all together. At the reminiscence a knot ties his intestines in a tight clutch, hunger. For the apple or the person it reminds him of it is unclear.
Jungkook gives one last tempted look at the product of Nature, then nears it to his lips, biting into it with an anger unknown to his mind and body, teeth sinking into the succulent insides, white, juicy, and the smell intensifies. The Prophet stays with his mouth open like that, against the fruit, teeth scraping into it, lips smudged and tongue pressed, the sweetest drops of juice streaming down towards his chin, and down, lower on his Adam's apple and towards the neckline of his tunic.
''A bite and you are damned''
Jimin had once said. And, God, he was so right. He is damned. Damned to live a life without the apple of his eye. Jungkook's eagerly bites into the fruit once again, with unnecessary rudeness, a ripe apple like that would give into his teeth even without all that harshness, and yet Jungkook insists, like he always does. Insists, insists, insists, devouring half of it so quickly. He would do the same with Jimin, devouring his days and their memories together, because the more he bit into Jimin's life, the more he wanted and still wants.
He pulls the apple away from his mouth, the umpteenth thorn bite being chewed on, in-taking another whiff of the perfume.
"Why does Jimin have to have such a nice smell. God forbid me from complaining, but Jesus Christ, it should be illegal.."
He recalls that time he got so called-in by his scent that the Prophet could not take it and had to press his face everywhere on the boy, the nook of his neck, behind his ear, his hair, dammit he smelled so godly, Jungkook did not feel like himself. And when he licked his skin, yes it did not exactly taste like apples, it was kinda salty and, honestly, better than anything he ever happened to taste.
