angle of refraction(Chapter 2: aperture)

...aperture: an opening formed by the metal leaf diaphragm within the lens through which light travels, affecting exposure, depth of field and sharpness...

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Jungkook stirs to the sound of feet shuffling over the tatami mats in his room, and cracks an eye open to a full display of half-***** Taehyung, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair near black with water.

For a moment, Jungkook steeps in the muted silence, gentle rustling of the leaves in the cherry blossom trees, and the chilly morning breeze that awakens the goose bumps on his skin. He tugs the blanket higher up, drowning himself in the warmth of his futon as he watches the other man.

Taehyung is a darkened silhouette in the predawn, faint lines of faded orange where he is solid in the background of the sunrise. It takes Jungkook's breath away, both the sky and the way Taehyung seems to blend seamlessly into the colours, as if he had been made to fit.

A petal floats in through the opened sliding windows, settling on the hem of Jungkook's blanket, and Taehyung turns around, all soft smiles and crinkles by his eyes.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice a soothing hum, brimming with just enough enthusiasm to make Jungkook groan, his eyes heavy with sleep.

“It’s still kind of dark out, what the **** are you doing awake, when you’re on vacation?”

Taehyung's laugh is bubbly and deep, and it rouses Jungkook just a little, draws him in, and makes him curious. “What’s the point of a vacation if you sleep all the best parts of it away? Look,” and he tilts his head yet again, sweeping an arm out as if to show Jungkook the sunrise, but all Jungkook is looking at is Taehyung.

“Huh,” Jungkook mumbles, suddenly dazed.

“You should take a bath, a really hot one,” and Taehyung is still talking in the background, outside of the static crackling in Jungkook's head. “It’s good for your health and all, also a very useful way of boosting your mood for the rest of the day. I left the heater on for you.”

For the first time since he’s graduated from high school, Jungkook gets up and takes a bath while the sky has yet to break out from night.

Taehyung is a travel blogger. Jungkook learns this when he’s padding out of the bathroom and rubbing the water out of his hair with a towel, and the older has his socked feet up on the small dining table in their apartment, propped dangerously close to a glass of water.

“Have you travelled the world, yet?” there’s a soft tinge of mirth in Jungkook's voice as he opens the fridge to pull out the small carton of milk, sauntering around the kitchenette for the instant coffee mix, and unfortunately, finds none.

“I’m planning to,” Taehyung gets a little defensive at this, removing his feet from the table and Jungkook's this close to squeezing his eyes shut just in case the glass topples. It doesn’t. “I’ve just started doing this, you know. There’s a first to everything, figured I’d start nearby, so I took a ferry over. I was in Fukuoka before this.”

“Mm.”

They fumble around in the comfortable silence, and Jungkook feels more at home. Taehyung's friendly, light-hearted, and it is so easy to fall in beat with his wavelength. Jungkook does just that, only startling when he finds a glass of water suddenly shoved into his hands and the milk plucked from his grip.

“Wha—”

“Vitamins.” Taehyung makes sure that Jungkook's holding the glass before he pops a tube open and drops a tablet into the water, effervescence and bubbling at the surface, soft scent of oranges flicking at Jungkook's nose. “It’s my duty to make sure that you stay alive, because I’m going to have to be following you around.”

Jungkook's brows cinch in confusion as he waits for the tablet to dissolve completely, lifting the glass to take a sip, rolling the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth at the taste. A fizzy, sweet and sour tang, but he’s always liked citrus anyway. “Don’t you have your own places to go?”

“I don’t believe in planning,” Taehyung announces, and it is this that makes Jungkook believe that everyone is still young, childish, somewhere deep inside themselves, even when they’ve become adults. “I like to go with the flow.”

“Well, I—”

“I’ll behave,” Taehyung promises, eyes earnest and lips already quirking into that wide, rectangular smile of his (the one that Jungkook finds endearing and overbearing at the same time), as if he knows that he’s won. “I promise.”

Jungkook sighs. “That’s very subjective.”

They end up sharing an umbrella, Jungkook's the one holding it because Taehyung's too enamoured by the way raindrops are slipping down the slope of the transparent canvas, staring up at their little shelter with too-curious eyes while they’re walking from the station of their first destination.

Jungkook watches him, camera around his neck and a hand under Taehyung's elbow, because Taehyung just isn’t looking where they’re going, and Jungkook's suddenly suspicious. Is he really twenty six?

“Will you watch your step?”

“I won’t fall. If I do,” and Taehyung tosses him a quick smile, he looks so carefree. “I’ll just stand up again.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Jesus.”

“Bruce,” Taehyung says, clearing his throat and deepening his voice (as if it isn’t already low enough). “Why do we fall?”

“God damn.”

Taehyung ignores him, already turning away, fingers wrapping around the umbrella, tugging it from Jungkook's grasp. “So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

It’s funny, how a stranger you’ve known for less than twenty four hours can make you smile so hard that your jaw aches. That someone whom you’ve met less than a day ago can bring nostalgia rushing back up over you like an ocean drowning in itself.

“Didn’t peg you for a Batman sort of guy,” Jungkook's chuckling, taking advantage of his free hands to lift his camera up, stopping occasionally to steal moments from reality into his flash memory.

Taehyung doesn’t reply, so Jungkook turns, but is met with the mouthful of fallen cherry blossom petals that Taehyung throws at him, and he yelps in surprise, eyes widening.

“Hey!”

And Taehyung's laughing, so hard, that his shoulders are shaking and Jungkook's own chest is aching just from watching, though he keeps the irritation written on his face, plain as day.

Taehyung just grins, says, “why so serious?”

Jungkook grabs some of the petals off the pavement, chucks it back at him, and Taehyung tells him to get the **** back under the umbrella if you don’t want to catch a cold, but his eyes are smiling.

“So,” Taehyung says when they’re both sure that the other will not continue the cherry blossom war, “where are we going?”

“Osaka castle.” Jungkook's got his face behind his Nikon, distracted, adjusting the zoom, and Taehyung watches the lens lengthen and shorten as Jungkook's fingers roll it this way, and that. “It’s one of the tourist attractions.”

“Hmm.”

“We’re kind of in luck? It’s raining, there won’t be many people visiting.”

“Mm.”

The floor is wet, the air is moist with rain, but Taehyung still looks like a kindergartener on his first school excursion, grabbing onto Jungkook's arm on occasion and pointing to this, at that, asking Jungkook to help him take polaroids of himself with various cherry blossom trees.

(“Why don’t you save your films for when we’re in the castle gardens? I’m sure you’ll want polaroids with the castle itself.”

“Why shouldn’t I have polaroids with everything?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because this is the fourth tree you’re posing with.”

“Hurry up and take that picture, Jungkook.”

“Sure.”

“Wait— wait, I wasn’t ready!”)

The castle is a work of art, and Jungkook finds himself stunned into silence, as is Taehyung. The endless climb up the slope is worth every step, and Jungkook is blissed out, aching in his legs but still ever thankful.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever do justice to it with his pictures.

“Do you want me to take a picture of you?”

Jungkook turns to Taehyung, confused. “Why?”

“For memory’s sake?” Taehyung's giving him a look that should be insulting, but Jungkook just smiles, shaking his head. “Why not?”

“I’m a photographer. I stay behind the camera, not in front of it.”

There’s a moment of fractured silence between them, and then Taehyung's tugging the camera strap over Jungkook's head, much to the younger’s panic (“Don’t you dare drop it!”). “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Taehyung declares, giving Jungkook's back a shove while he back-steps twice, trying to get a good angle. “Photographer or not, you are a tourist, and I’m going to make sure you’ve got proofs of visiting, wherever you go.”

In the picture that Taehyung takes, Jungkook is laughing (but only because Taehyung is ridiculous, and he’s got no choice), Osaka-jou standing proud in the background.

(“Why the **** do you take pictures squatting down like a homeless, starving artist?”

“You’re not a photographer, you wouldn’t know. It’s the aesthetics.”

“What’s so aesthetic about a pile of dead leaves drenched in the rain?”

“Jesus Christ, do me a favour and please, shut up.”)

Taehyung is the sort who thrives in crowds. Jungkook mentions this, but the older shakes his head, “only in crowds with unfamiliar faces.” He’s standing in the rush, right in the middle of Shinsaibashi, and Jungkook is the only one intimidated.

He’s never been one for urban life photography, perhaps the occasional shoots during weekend nights back in Seoul, or street photography. It’s always sparse, though, hardly anyone in the frame, for the sole reason of which is that Jungkook does not like people in his photographs.

It hadn’t stopped him from lifting his camera one time too many to take pictures of the scene, though. The peak hours and mixed scents of smoke and grilled meat that wafts through the wide arced ceiling above them. When he thumbs through the shots, he can almost hear the noise.

“There is so much life,” Taehyung says, and Jungkook turns to realize that the other’s eyes seem glazed over, shoulder pressed warm against his own, a quiet stutter in his sigh. “Can you feel it, Jungkook? Thrumming in the air, crackling. Life.”

Jungkook swallows in his throat, takes a mental picture of Taehyung and his mesmerizing eyes, says, “yeah.”

They share a tall-sized Coffee and Cream from Starbucks because Taehyung thinks that they should budget, and taste great things in moderation, it enhances the experience, Jungkook, makes you appreciate it more.

Jungkook doesn’t mention how he’s only had about three sips before Taehyung's cranking the lid off of the takeout cup, getting the whipped cream all over his lips (which he thankfully licks off after catching Jungkook staring), draining the rest of the drink.

But he does give Taehyung the warning look when he drags them up the stairs of a small shop house to the snack bar located on the second level. “May I have the pleasure of reminding you that you’ve just inhaled a bowl of ramen and rice less than three hours ago?”

“That was a late lunch,” Taehyung says, unfazed, “let’s have dinner.”

(“You’re going to get fat.”

“I’m a growing man, don’t deprive me.”

“Taehyung, you’re almost thirty.”

“I also don’t need that sort of reminder.”)

They have two different plates of takoyaki and four entire servings of beef between them.

Taehyung looks so contented that Jungkook doesn’t have to heart to tell him what their bill has chalked up to until Taehyung is half tipsy on his third glass of makgeolli (“It’s rice wine, and sake is rice wine too, Jungkook. Don’t stop me.” “Did you see me open my mouth?”), and Jungkook slides the receipt over to his side of the table.

Taehyung swears on his only remaining five hundred yen coin to go on a diet. Jungkook thanks god for convenience store food, because so help them, they’re going to have to shorten their trip if they don’t do some serious financial planning.

Saint Etoile is a little blessing from heaven that they find the next morning, in the form of a bakery café. It’s tucked on the street near their station, and Taehyung is the one who spots it when they’re walking down from their apartment, brightening up.

Jungkook finds it by his nose, turning the right direction and then they’ve settled down on a small table by the window, plucking buns off the display and onto their trays with the tongs. Taehyung develops a little infatuation with the curry doughnuts, and Jungkook buys an extra melon bun.

“So,” Taehyung says, tipping the rest of his latte back and leaning forwards, elbows on the table, grinning at Jungkook who's trying to savour the last bite of his breakfast. “Are you ready to try some Kobe beef?”

It costs them two hours’ worth of queueing time and a meteor sized burn in their pockets, but the beef is everything that the internet promises and more (though they end up returning to the apartment in the early evening to avoid unnecessary, impulsive splurging on other things), so Jungkook's not complaining.

They’re lounging around in their apartment, Jungkook reviewing the pictures on his camera while Taehyung is sprawled across the short couch, his legs dangling off the side and his laptop perched on his ribcage, slowly typing his post for the day, when Taehyung speaks up.

“Have you ever done this?”

Jungkook glances up, lifting a brow in question. “This?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, setting the laptop onto the dining table and pulling himself up into a sitting position, cross legged on the couch, fixing Jungkook with a curious gaze, head tipped to one side, as if studying the younger. “This. Being on vacation with a stranger, or just, on your own.”

“No,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, a soft laugh caught at the back of his throat. Jungkook's never really even been on vacation anywhere. He was raised in Busan, and moved to Seoul for college, then grad school. Coming on this trip, on his own, had been an eye opening experience (so far, and he hopes that disaster would stay at bay). “I usually don’t even click well with strangers.”

Taehyung laughs, low and bright, eyes crinkling up at the sides. “Oh, that’s no problem with me. People love me,” and Jungkook snorts, but he’s got to admit. “Have you ever expected yourself to be doing this, then?”

“Probably not. On the basis of me being just a little socially awkward.” Jungkook stands up, picking up his pack of cigarettes from the kitchenette counter, and he can feel Taehyung's eyes on him, even as he’s moving over to the sliding windows and cracking them open so he can light himself a smoke.

“You know that’s not good for you,” Taehyung says, and Jungkook wants to laugh. Of course he knows. “It’s not too late to stop.”

“And you would know?” Jungkook has the cigarette between his lips, words distorted, as he flicks his thumb over the lighter track.

“You’ve just started, haven’t you?” when Jungkook glances up, Taehyung has made his way over to him, gently prying the lighter from his grasp, then the lit cigarette as well. Jungkook doesn’t protest, just stares. “For god’s sake, I watched you smoke throughout the day, you held the stick like it’s a pen.” Taehyung laughs, as if amused at the way Jungkook's cheeks flush in brief humiliation. “Don’t get into it, all right?”

Jungkook makes a sound, noncommittal, and Taehyung takes it as agreement. There’s a soft flood of silence, half tensed, and Taehyung smiles, says, “let’s go get food.”

He tosses out Jungkook's pack of cigarettes before they drag the bicycles out from where they’re parked by their apartment unit, pedalling in circles (and almost falling twice in Taehyung's case) until they’re at the nearest convenience store, heaping their arms up with premade bento boxes, Jungkook holding onto their grocery bags as Taehyung spends the remaining of his coins slotting them into the vending machine situated outside the store, buying soups and canned drinks.

(“You know that’s some very expensive shit you just chucked into the bin, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you all the melon buns you want tomorrow, just no more smoking.”)

Later, when Taehyung's demanding that they play a round of scissors, paper, stone to decide who gets to have the last onigiri (“Just eat the god damn rice ball, Taehyung. Whatever.”), Jungkook catches the look of innocent wonder on the other’s face, and thinks that there’s probably so much more to learn about Taehyung, if all he’s seeing right now is the child in him.

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