Angle Of Refraction (Chapter 5: Aberration)

...aberration: the inability to produce a true image due to failure of rays to converge at one focus point, by fault of defective lens...

It’s not until the third time that Taehyung's repeated himself that Jungkook's hungover self completely processes his sentence.

His alarm hasn’t even rung yet, and a quick glance at his phone shows that it’s barely eight in the morning; way too early for someone with a pounding head to even be opening his eyes.

Jungkook tucks himself back into bed very slowly, and blinks up at Taehyung with his best blank stare. “You want to go pet foxes,” he drawls—

— to which Taehyung replies, “the village isn’t too far, we can go by Shinkansen, since we’ve got the JR passes and all, we should ride the shit out of them. I didn’t pay hundreds for nothing.”

“Uhm,” Jungkook says, unable to come up with anything more intelligent.

“Come on,” Taehyung tugs Jungkook's duvet off, and Jungkook makes a soft, indignant squawk, voice still scratchy and hoarse from sleep, also at which *** o’clock did Taehyung even wake? The man looks like he’s slept eighteen hours, what the ****. “Foxes, Jungkook. Foxes.”

But the point is, Jungkook's not too confident about petting foxes, even more so when a deer did try to eat his sweater not too long ago.

The silence lasts for about ten seconds, then Taehyung quips, “I got coffee from the vending machines outside earlier. The cans are still warm.”

Jungkook gets up.

Contrary to Taehyung's intentions, the staff tells them in very heavily-accented English that no, they may not touch the foxes. Taehyung makes a small noise, equal parts disbelief and disappointment, but the lady at the ticketing counter brings out a laminated photograph of a fox on its hind legs, risen to its full height (which is over the little girl in front of it).

Jungkook says, “holy shit,” right as a garbled squeak bubbles at the base of Taehyung's throat.

“Dangerous,” the lady says, “no dangling items on bag. No crinkling noises, foxes get aggressive when they hear the sound of plastic bags.”

Suddenly, Jungkook gets a very bad feeling about their suicide attempt. “We took a two hour train ride and paid a 4000 yen cab fare to die?”

“It’s also the reason we’re not just leaving, Jungkook,” and Taehyung's fingers are vice-like around the younger’s wrist. “We just have to keep walking, the lady says we’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” Jungkook deadpans, letting Taehyung pull him over to the backdoor that leads to the enclosure, attempting to zip his camera strap up into his backpack, not wanting to risk any of his equipment. “We have to keep moving because the foxes are going to pounce on us if we stop.”

“They’re cute though,” Taehyung's stopped in front of a barrier, cooing ridiculously at a fox curled up in front of a kennel-like structure, a chain loose around its neck. “We can pet the tamed ones, right?”

An assistant guides Taehyung's hand over to the fox’s head, as Jungkook lifts his Nikon. His finger is on the shutter, but then Taehyung smiles, his entire face lighting up as the fox nudges its head closer to his palm.

Jungkook forgets to take the picture, tries afterwards to blame it on his camera’s slow autofocus.

They spend the better part of the hour winding through the enclosure, Taehyung with one hand in Jungkook's coat pocket and the other in his own, while Jungkook religiously keeps his feet moving, his steps half clumsy whenever a fox stalks in his direction.

Taehyung laughs at him, a fond murmur of “you scared?” always at the tip of his tongue, to which Jungkook would respond with a tight-jawed smile before turning away to take another picture of, well, anything. “Don’t worry, little one,” Taehyung would continue in the most placating tone of voice, “this is a tourist attraction.”

In summary, it can be said that they spend majority of their time at the village petting bunnies outside the foxes’ enclosure.

The 200 yen fee for petting bunnies is hardly arguable once Taehyung pays for the both of them, holding a small bunny in his palms, stroking a finger down its soft ears and lifting it to eye level, faint smile quirking up at the sides of his lips.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung shuffles closer, startling Jungkook just a little (he definitely hadn’t been distracted with staring at Taehyung's hands, because how do fingers even get that good-looking? He’s mad, Jungkook's gone mad). “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook's voice is scratchy, embarrassingly so, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to notice, just cradles the bunny close to his chest and flashing Jungkook his best smile.

“Take our picture! I need to blog tonight.”

Jungkook just nods, raises the camera and does the obligatory countdown from three.

It takes nearly an hour of persuasion, but Taehyung begrudgingly returns the bunny to its cage once the sky starts to darken, cold seeping into the tips of their fingers.

The wait for their cab back down to the station is spent browsing the souvenir shop, and Taehyung leaves with about five types of fox-related items.

Jungkook hadn’t expected any less.

He, however, hadn’t expected Taehyung to load up on packs of the vermicelli noodles they’d happened to have for dinner before taking the Shinkansen back to Tokyo from Shiroishizao.

(“Tae, we still have three days in Hokkaido.”

“This is the shit, I need to stock up.”

“What are you going to do? Ask the shop owner if you can buy her raw materials?”

“Fucking watch me.”)

Jungkook's reviewing his camera roll when Taehyung sets his laptop down onto the dining table with a thud.

“Are we really going to spend our last night in Tokyo lounging around?”

“It’s almost eleven,” Jungkook doesn’t even bother glancing up, properly accustomed to the sort of things that Taehyung would say by now. “We can’t do much at this time, and I don’t want to get shitfaced before our seven a.m. flight tomorrow.”

At Taehyung's answering chuckle, Jungkook allows himself to look up, albeit slowly.

“I saw a twenty-four hour yakiniku place across the street. We picked an amazing Airbnb, didn’t we?”

Lord, trust only Taehyung to want to eat barbecued meat an hour from the midnight mark.

By the time they return to their apartment again, Jungkook feels as if his stomach would burst. Taehyung's cheeks are tinted a pretty pink, and he can’t stop staring. He can’t stop— oh.

Taehyung's looking at him, and Jungkook wonders why, until he realizes that he had been tracing his finger along Taehyung's jaw, thumb smoothing over the plump pink of the other’s lower lip. He pulls his hand away, entirely sure that his face isn’t burning up because of too much alcohol.

“You can,” Taehyung's voice is soft, a barely-there whisper, and Jungkook meets his words with a question in his eyes, “kiss me, I mean,” Taehyung adds. “You can kiss me, if you want.”

Taehyung tastes faintly of rice wine, and Jungkook lets himself believe that it’s all right to drown in something as simple as a smile. It’s all right, when Taehyung tugs Jungkook into bed, and Jungkook falls over him into a mess of tangled limbs.

“Hey,” Taehyung whispers, later, leaning into the brush of Jungkook's knuckles against his cheek.

Jungkook flicks his gaze up, drinks in the almost ethereal glow of Taehyung's skin, murmurs, “yeah?”

“Nothing.” Taehyung's eyes are bright, ridden with secrets and mirth. “I just think that, Jeon Jungkook, you’re kind of amazing.”

(Jungkook's not too sure, but he thinks that something enclosed within his ribs kind of flutters.)

It’s cold.

Or, as Taehyung would put it, “it’s fucking freezing.” The man has his jacket zipped all the way up to his throat, hood up, but it’s barely doing anything to warm him up. “This is definitely not what the weather forecast said.”

“I told you not to trust that shit.”

They’re rolling their luggage along the pavement, the breeze picking up every three minute interval, biting and making even Jungkook's fingers turn kind of blue. But Jungkook thinks they’re lucky (due to the lack of planning and how last minute their decision to go to Hokkaido is, they’ve had to pay more for a proper hotel room, which, conveniently, is just across the street from their station).

“I didn’t bring winter clothing,” Taehyung grumbles, stopping to drag his luggage out of a crack.

Jungkook snorts, leaning against his own luggage while they wait for the light at the pedestrian crossing to turn green. “Did you really pack to travel the world without winter clothing?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer to that, reason being, Jungkook reckons, because he doesn’t have a good response.

The light turns green, and Jungkook watches Taehyung take almost desperate footsteps towards the hotel building, lowering his head to hide his smile in the shadow of his hood.

(“You can hold my hand tomorrow if you’re really that cold.”

“Fuck off.”

“This is my bed.”

“I’m sorry.”)

The next day is even colder. Jungkook's not sure if the weather app is trying to troll them, or if the weather really is getting that unpredictable.

Taehyung is pressed so close to his side that they’re getting weird looks from the older people, and Jungkook's pretty sure that he’s completely pink in the face by now (it’s the cold, it’s definitely the cold).

It’s a warmer forty five minutes in the cabin on the way to Otaru, and Taehyung can’t stop taking pictures of the fluttering landscape with Jungkook's Nikon, only lowering the camera on occasion to complain about the reflection of the glass windows and the blurry shots.

“Not going to take polaroids?” Jungkook teases, hearing the lenses whirr every time they attempt to focus, but the moving landscape prevents the pictures from coming out clear.

“Polaroid films are expensive, don’t you know?”

Jungkook enjoys Taehyung's pain for a pleasant ten minutes more before taking the camera away and adjusting the shutter speed for him. “Just stick to your yellow monster, idiot.”

“Don’t make fun of my yellow monster,” Taehyung mumbles distractedly, grinning wide at the first clear shot he manages to snap. “Your monster isn’t too bad, though.”

They spend nearly two hours in the Music Box Museum, and Jungkook has to admit that it’s breath-taking, a wooden structure filled with two storeys of handmade ornaments, every one of them tinkling pleasantly when he winds them up.

“These make me hungry,” Taehyung's saying, awed, and Jungkook turns around to face an entire shelf of music boxes made to resemble sushi pieces. “I think I know what we should have for dinner.”

Jungkook laughs, reaches over to pick one up. He winds it up, listens to the soft tinkling of a tune so familiar it makes his heart twinge with nostalgia.

“That’s from the OST of Spirited Away,” Taehyung's eyes widen, twinkling.

“Ah.” Jungkook sets it down, picks up another that looks like a mini water well and starts winding it up too. “Loved that movie. I wanted so much to be like Haku.”

Taehyung snorts, mutters, “who doesn’t?”

“Right? No better job than being a fucking dragon.”

They step out of the museum to a flurry of white, and Taehyung's expression of disbelief is so intense that Jungkook has to turn away, in case the other takes offence when Jungkook starts to laugh.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, very slowly.

Jungkook hums, “mm.”

“Look at this,” Taehyung throws an arm out, too dramatically, if Jungkook were to be honest, “tell me, what the hell this is.”

“It’s snow.”

“Exactly, it’s snow. It’s not supposed to snow, it’s supposed to be spring.”

He would have said more, Jungkook's sure of it, but he reaches out and takes Taehyung's hand in his, and the other falls silent, as if contemplating.

Then, “I saw a bakery on the way here from the station. Want to check it out?”

Jungkook says, why not, but regrets it almost instantly the moment they step into the shop, because why the **** is a tiny *** slice of cake 800 yen?

Apparently, that’s not the last of his woes, because they end up getting ice cream from the convenience store right after a very expensive sushi dinner.

There’s a sign right beside the Otaru Canal that reads “0.4ºC”, which finally explains why they’re getting frostbite as they walk, Taehyung's not too thrilled, but decides not to say much after Jungkook points out that normal people don’t eat ice cream while freezing their asses off, either.

They stand at the railing, gazing out at the narrow stretch of water, lights reflecting off its surface, and when they exhale, their breath is visible in a faint white stream, billowing up above them.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmurs, after a while, and Taehyung hums, compliant.

Taehyung's smile is tired when he turns to bump his shoulder to Jungkook's, and there’s a moment where they just stare at each other until Jungkook says, “let’s go back?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung tugs Jungkook closer, arranging Jungkook's hood properly over his head, voice quiet. “Let’s go back.”

The question drops when they’re back in their room.

It’s a squeeze for two grown men, but they manage to fit in the bathtub together, the warm water akin to salvation after the day’s brutal temperatures.

Jungkook tilts his head back onto Taehyung's shoulder until he can see his face. When he speaks, there’s a soft echo that resonates throughout the bathroom, as if wanting Taehyung to hear his question a thousand times.

(As if wanting Taehyung to think his answer through a thousand times.)

“You’re not going back to Seoul with me?”

Taehyung's fingers pause from where they’re threading through Jungkook's hair, and he murmurs, “I’m not done seeing the world yet.”

“How long will that take?”

“I’m not sure,” Taehyung lowers his head and leaves a fleeting peck on Jungkook's lips, his own quirking up into a faint smile. “Maybe weeks. Maybe months.”

There’s a small part of Jungkook that wants Taehyung to consider going home with him, but it’s a selfish thought, and Jungkook knows wanderlust; it burns a person from inside, flames that lick up beneath the skin, hotter and more desperate than anything.

Jungkook would hate if anyone tried to take that away from him (and Taehyung, with his wandering heart and vagabond soul, would hate it more than anyone else).

“So, tomorrow’s our last day,” Jungkook says, and Taehyung's arm around his waist tightens. “Let’s just wing it? Do whatever comes to mind. Your way.”

Taehyung's laugh resounds throughout the bathroom, the sides of his eyes crinkling as he gazes down at Jungkook almost fondly. “I’m really rubbing off on you, aren’t I, babe?”

“Your boner sure is.”

(“Why do you like polaroids so much?”

“What’s not to like?”

“The films are expensive, and you only get one shot at every picture.”

“That’s exactly why I like them. I get one chance to capture something, and in that moment, whatever I catch on film is special. It’ll belong to me, and no one else can duplicate it.”

“Mm.”

“Do you know the beauty of giving polaroids away, Jungkook?”

“And what is that?”

“When you entrust a polaroid to another person, whoever it is receives a fragment of your life that they can never find elsewhere.”)

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