Angle Of Refraction (Chapter 4: halation)

...halation: production of “halos”; round, bright spots in an image, formed by light spreading beyond its proper boundaries...

“Jungkook.”

The man in question holds up a palm, aiming his Nikon over the two cups of matcha lattes that he had tried to arrange over the tatami in the most artistic manner he could. “Wait.”

If Taehyung had thought that Jungkook's obsessiveness with aesthetics couldn’t get any worse than this, Jungkook immediately proves him wrong by setting his camera down and scooting over the tatami towards the sliding door, pulling it open and trying to catch the falling cherry blossom petals.

Taehyung watches in muted disbelief as Jungkook scatters the petals over the tatami, then picks up his camera, trying to take pictures of the setup all over again.

“Jungkook,” there’s a soft whine wheedling its way into Taehyung's voice, bleeding out into hints of exasperation (because in Taehyung's defense, he’d made the drinks a little over an hour ago, and Jungkook won’t stop making a photoshoot of out them). “I swear to god, if you won’t drink them, I’ll have both lattes myself.”

All Jungkook does is flash Taehyung his widest smile, hoping to pull out some empathy. He catches the quiet stutter before Taehyung's next threat, but he releases it anyway, mumbling something about “the devil’s charm”, and then letting out a squawk when Jungkook asks if he should drop a cherry blossom petal into the drink so it would float on the surface of the matcha.

Taehyung wraps his hands around the cups and pulls them away, “no.”

When Jungkook laughs, time slows down, trickling into something like a stop motion film, and Jungkook tries not to read too much into the way Taehyung's eyes seem to soften when he’s looking at Jungkook, sides of his lips quirking up into a faint, almost fond smile.

Jungkook murmurs a quiet apology and lets Taehyung press the rim of his cup to his lips, catching only the top half of Taehyung's face, his shadowed eyes while he sips on the sweet milky beverage, now of a tepid temperature, and wonders what Taehyung is thinking about.

“Want to go see Mount Fuji today?”

The sky is light, bright, the breeze is warmer, and when Taehyung turns around to face Jungkook, the leaves in the cherry blossom trees part to allow the sun to outline Taehyung's hair. Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s doing before it’s already done, Nikon at eye level with a photograph of Taehyung in his playback.

(Later that night, when Jungkook's looping through all his pictures, he will come across this very one. He will trace his index finger over the halo of light blurring out part of Taehyung's head, and he will finally admit that Taehyung is no longer just a stranger. He will wonder how someone’s eyes can hold so much depth, even when blurred and unfocused.)

Jungkook smiles, says, “all right.”

It’s a three hour ride on the Shinkansen from Osaka to Shin-Fuji, and Taehyung's pressing need to just keep talking is all but foreign to Jungkook by this time. Taehyung chatters on about his childhood, about growing up in Daegu. His parents are busy people, but Taehyung loves them to bits, though he admits to being fonder of his grandmother.

“She’d bring me to the market with her,” Taehyung murmurs, absentmindedly pressing the rim of his milk tea bottle to his lips when he speaks (he’d ran out of the train during a stop and hastily gotten about three from the vending machine at the platform, leaving Jungkook watching him from the window, heart in his throat because even if he doesn’t understand Japanese, he knows how departure announcements sound like).

Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, quietly picking at his prepacked bento, wooden chopsticks sliding in muted scrapes against the bottom of the plastic rice box, and he glances up to where Taehyung's own sits untouched on his fold-down table.

“Oranges,” Taehyung's saying now, cupping his palms animatedly to resemble a sphere, and a soft smile quirks up at the sides of Jungkook's lips. “They were big and bright and tasted so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And then she’d bring me for ice cream afterwards. Said she liked me chubby and all.” Taehyung's smile is infectious, and Jungkook grins with him, nodding.

It dwindles down into silence after that, and Jungkook basks in it, contented, wondering if Taehyung is exhausted from the train ride, because three hours is no joke, no matter how breath taking the scenery outside is. Flashes of landscape and the occasional building when they rush past the main stations.

Then, Taehyung says, “she passed away when I was in my senior year of high school.” His voice is so soft that Jungkook would have missed it if not for the fact that Taehyung had made the effort to lean in when he’s speaking. “It just happened. I was eating lunch and complaining about homework, or something, and then I got a call from the hospital.”

Jungkook says, “oh”, because he doesn’t know what else to do except to meet Taehyung's eyes and wish that he knows just how to fill them with the sort of hope and light that they would look best in. He reaches out, tentative, and rests his palm against Taehyung's nape, though ready to pull away if Taehyung shows any signs of discomfort.

He doesn’t do any of that. Taehyung just smiles, grateful, and then the warm weight of his head is on Jungkook's shoulder, and Jungkook can detect the faint scent of the shampoo that the both of them share back in their rented Airbnb apartment. “That’s why I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted, if I could, to never let anyone go through the pain I felt losing someone important. Someone I loved. I wanted, even if I couldn’t prevent it, to just… delay that pain.”

“You’re very brave,” Jungkook murmurs, echoing Taehyung's words from some time before. “You’re doing what only a few people can do. Not everyone can take the emotional stress of the path you’ve chosen. That’s brave. And that’s why we have people like you, you have enough bravery to sustain the world.”

Instead of replying, Taehyung just whispers, “the world is such a small place, but still big enough for us to get ourselves lost in.”

(The only downside is that when they finally, finally alight at Shin-Fuji, the lady at the customer service apologizes, and above the dull ringing in his head, Jungkook manages to suppress his annoyance at being given a load of bullshit about how Mount Fuji is shy and so she’s decided to hide today, look at all the fog, she doesn’t seem to be wanting visitors but here have a postcard embossed by our counter to show that you’ve come down with intentions to see her.

“Did they really have to say all that nonsense in replacement of a bad weather notice?”

So, Jungkook's irritated, but Taehyung is extremely taken in by their excuse, tugging on Jungkook's arm and grinning widely at him. “Smile a little, grumpy boy. Since we’re here, let’s walk around the station.”

They manage to get two tickets back to Osaka, then squeeze in a quick ramen fix within the hour that their train would depart, laughing softly over their misfortune.

But on their journey back, Taehyung falls asleep with his head on Jungkook's shoulder, so Jungkook's not too hell bent on complaining.)

When they check out of the apartment the next day, Jungkook is more familiar with where the lock should go, and he vaguely remembers spending about half an hour trying to get the keys to the apartment on the first day.

“Where will you be going next?” Taehyung's watching him with earnest eyes, easy, boxy smile, and Jungkook lifts a brow. “So, you know, I can tag along.”

“You’re not going to be following me everywhere, right?” Jungkook tries to pretend that he’s not pleased, of course he’s not pleased to have this beautiful, frustrating man in close proximity for the remaining one week of his intended vacation. “Don’t you have your own plans? Apartments you’ve booked?”

“Oh, I do have plans,” Taehyung's voice is breezy, still nonchalant. “I just haven’t put them to action, yet. Let’s hear yours, then maybe I can drop everything and indulge you in my company.”

“So, you have no plans.”

Jungkook does have plans, after all. He’d meticulously planned out all the places he’d wanted to go, so despite Taehyung's impromptu suggestions, they’d still managed to pack in all of Jungkook's must-visit spots in all six days.

From what Taehyung has gathered, Jungkook prioritizes his visiting locations on a scale of “photoshoot worthy” to “nope”, so he’s not too surprised to find themselves in a traditional ryoukan, the entire bathhouse tucked well away from the main roads near a waterfall, and Taehyung had spent most of the bus ride there squinting suspiciously out the window.

(“Where is civilization?”

“Taehyung, please. We’re going to a hot spring, it can’t just be smack in the middle of the urban area.”

“But… where are people?”

“We’re just on the way, who the **** would walk five kilometres up a hill? They’re obviously all in buses or something.”)

Their room is huge. Technically, Jungkook had booked a suite, because even if he prefers to be practical most times, there are certain exceptions that he would make.

His roommate in college, back when Jungkook had been in his final year of undergraduate— Jimin? Wild, orange hair and the kind of smile that made his eyes disappear. “YOLO” had been Jimin's favourite catchphrase, despite him being pre-med and having perpetual dark circle beneath his eyes.

It had grown on Jungkook, somewhat, so he tries to be really weird once in a while in remembrance of Jimin, who’s currently stuck in Seoul doing his residency.

“Oh my god,” is the first thing Taehyung says, when he notices the wooden set tub on the balcony, laid with blue tinted tiles, complete with an old fashioned tap. “This room has a private hot tub.”

It amuses Jungkook how Taehyung's face can flicker from one expression to the next with so little buffer, watching the older man (is he really twenty six, again?) shuffle around their room, sticking his head into the closet and cooing over the yukatas inside, before cracking the balcony door open to worship their private tub.

Out of pity, Jungkook joins him outside and tells him to take as many dips as he wants, because they’ll be checking out the next morning (“This place costs a limb per night, Taehyung.”), and Taehyung's disappointment hangs heavy in the air for the next five seconds, right until Jungkook mentions that there’s beef in this bathhouse and it’s right downstairs.

When they’re completely stuffed and sated (probably also somewhat tipsy, since there’s sake and no one says no to sake, not when they’re in Japan), they collapse in a tangle of limbs onto the futons that Jungkook supposes someone had laid out on their tatami while they were out eating.

“You can have the shower first,” Jungkook mumbles, making a shooing motion with his hand, and Taehyung hums his thanks, disappearing into the bathroom while Jungkook sits up cross legged and reaches for his Nikon.

He’s about to slot his memory card into his laptop when the bathroom door creaks open and Taehyung cranes his neck out, his voice scratchy and soft. “Want to sit in the tub with me?”

Jungkook isn’t sure for how long he gapes in response, but eventually he nods, swallowing and stepping in to the shower, Taehyung mumbling for him to hurry before getting into the tub first, waiting for Jungkook to rinse.

It starts with a slow thrum of tension, but it dissipates once Taehyung nudges Jungkook's shoulder with his own, the both of them tucked against each other, trying to fit into the small space, no doubt meant for couple who are already comfortable with the other’s closeness.

“I’ve told you so much about myself, but you don’t tell me anything about you.”

Jungkook allows him a faint smile, feigning innocence. “You don’t tell me anything.”

“Lies,” Taehyung hisses, scrunching his nose up, and Jungkook laughs, fondness blooming in the confines of his chest, amused and taken in all at once.

They stay that way, soaking in the warmth of the water in their own little world instead of heading down to the public baths, content in their own company.

When the silence dissolves, it is Jungkook who speaks, and Taehyung turns to match Jungkook's gaze with his own, his eyes shadowed and intent, twinkling with a sliver of the moon.

“You know, I always did think that you showed everything on your face.” Jungkook leans back against the side of the tub, his voice a quiet lilt, and Taehyung seems to sit up a little straighter. “But I’ve realized that you only do it when people are looking at you.”

“Elaborate?”

“Other times, when you think no one’s looking,” Jungkook murmurs, searching Taehyung's face and settling for the flicker of something in the other’s eyes, “it’s when I feel that I’m getting to know you more.”

Taehyung watches him, wordless, unresponsive, and Jungkook can’t be too sure, but maybe he can see the tension leave Taehyung's shoulders, muscles relaxing. “That’s rather strange, isn’t it?”

“I think you tell me more about yourself,” Jungkook says, “when you’re not telling me anything at all. When you’re not aware that you’re speaking.”

Taehyung says, “oh.” Then, “what makes you say that?”

Jungkook shrugs, turning away to lift his gaze to the sky, feeling Taehyung's gaze on him, hot and burning into his skin. “The camera can photograph thought.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere.”

“Dirk Bogarde.” Jungkook turns back to Taehyung, suddenly realizes that the other is close, too close. He can see Taehyung's lashes brushing against his cheek when he blinks, and Jungkook's forgetting how to breathe quietly. Every sound seems to amplify.

“You take pictures of me a lot?”

Jungkook whispers, “yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re intriguing.”

Taehyung stills at this, and a slight breeze ruffles through the drying ends of his hair, blowing over his eyes.

Jungkook reaches out, brushing the strands of Taehyung's hair away from his forehead, then he cups his cheek, tilting Taehyung's face up. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and Jungkook doesn’t know why he’d even been afraid in the first place, because it’s Taehyung who leans in.

It’s Taehyung who closes the gap between their lips, and Jungkook can feel him on his mouth, soft, warm and full of intent.

They kiss this way, the water in the tub lapping gently against the sides, water glinting under moonlight. Jungkook cups Taehyung's face in his hands, and Taehyung's fingers thread into Jungkook's hair, their lips insistent, wordless, just safe and strangely familiar.

It could have been seconds, maybe just one, or it could have been hours, but when they finally pull apart, Jungkook doesn’t know what time it is, just that the only thing that has changed colours isn’t the sky, but Taehyung's lips, swollen pink and flushed with spit.

(Jungkook takes Taehyung through his camera roll, later. They’re both tucked under the covers of Jungkook's futon, Taehyung with his back against Jungkook's chest, and Jungkook leaning against the wall.

There’s the quiet click of Taehyung scrolling through the pictures and making little offhand comments while Jungkook is distracted with playing at the hair at the back of Taehyung's neck, his chin resting on Taehyung's shoulder.

Then Taehyung turns around, stealing a kiss from Jungkook's lips and startling the younger. He whispers, “you’re beautiful, too.”)

They take the short ride on the Shinkansen to Tokyo the next day, and on their first night, Jungkook gets drunk in a bar in Roppongi, declaring to anyone who would listen that he’s gay and that he doesn’t give a ****, with Taehyung trying to shut him up by kissing him and reminding him that they’re in public and aren’t you supposed to be the more mature one out of us?

(“Jimin said to YOLO or some shit, don’t touch me.”

“Wait, Jimin? Like, Park Jimin, orange hair, cute little munchkin?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“He was my classmate, we were actually doing our residency together?”

“What? In the ER?”

“Yes?”)

A little later, Jungkook sees Jimin's caller ID light up on his screen and pointedly declines the call, glancing up to give Taehyung a dirty look, only to find that the other is already asleep, head lolling onto Jungkook's shoulder with his laptop still propped open in his lap, his blog post half written.

Jungkook watches him, quiet, save for the sound of their breathing, and slips out his phone, taking a picture.

When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, he will receive a picture of himself sleeping, from Jungkook's number, saying “your subconscious is whipped for me”, which would have been pretty romantic if it hadn’t contained obvious drunk typos in it.

Taehyung laughs anyway, and Jungkook hears the sound in his dreams, so near but so distant at the same time.

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