Chapter Text
"Death and Destruction are never satisfied and neither are human eyes."
Proverbs 27:20
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
Jungkook looks down at his own hands and the golden cross between his fingers, squeezing it so tightly it’s sure to leave a mark.
“My last confession was to have envied sister Miyeon for getting into a SKY University when I have not been able to achieve such a goal,” Jungkook continues, licking over his dry lips. “I come before Thee now to confess to the sin of slothfulness. My mother complained greatly that I did not help her at all this week with home chores.”
“And why didn’t you, son?” Father Lee asks, gravely slow voice as always. Impenetrable. Jungkook often wonders what would the Father sound like if he was actually ever angry, but the mere idea of seeing Father Lee harboring such dark emotion seems impossible.
“I didn’t want to,” Jungkook confesses. “I wasn’t feeling well this week, Father.”
“No matter how we feel inside, it is not good to leave such heavy chores to our mothers to bear alone, is it?” The priest takes a deep breath. “This is not a grave sin, Jungkook-ah. So, as penance, I give you Prayer of the Holy Spirit, Romans 8:26.”
Jungkook listens to the Father’s words for a little longer, feeling a weird twist in his belly despite the fact he’s hardly being punished. When it ends, Jungkook thanks Father Lee and gets off the booth, taking a deep breath as his body visibly relaxes after moving out of such a tight space.
It’s not Sunday, so there’s not that many people inside the church. Jungkook prefers to make his confessions on Wednesdays or Thursdays due to that reason. Less crowded. It makes him feel less seen.
Jungkook looks at the statue of the Lord for a long second before paying his respects. He’s not sure why he feels so odd this morning. Nothing particularly different happened yesterday. He helped his abeoji at the store, did inventory, watched a silly 2000s show that was playing in the living room TV and read a few pages of an adventure book a kid at his music lessons recommended to him. Apart from this last one (which Jungkook still isn’t sure how he feels about), the last 24 hours have been pretty ordinary.
He shakes his head. It does no good to dig around his own brain. Besides, he’s already confessed. There are no secrets between him and God.
Jungkook walks out of the church directly to the 1994 Toyota Land Cruiser his abeoji was absolutely against Jungkook having. But since the car had the best deal out of the used ones at the dealership, his eomma ended up convincing the old man to help Jungkook buy it. He was 24, after all. He should have a car.
His phone buzzes on the passenger seat, and all it takes is one glance at the caller for Jungkook to roll his eyes, then immediately repent himself for it. Jungkook stops at a red light and picks up the call, heart already racing inside his chest. He doesn’t completely understand why he feels so uneasy when it comes to this person; despite it all, he shouldn’t feel like there’s a hand squeezing his throat when his best friend of over a decade gives him a call.
“Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung says, cheerful. “Jiminie and I are having lunch at that old bibimbap place we used to go back in high-school, remember? We thought maybe you could join us, for old times sake.”
Jungkook presses his lips in a thin line, watching as the light turns green. He doesn’t like to speak on the phone while driving; who knows he might cause an accident, so Jungkook tells Taehyung he will call him back in a minute, turning off the call. He drives until he reaches a perfect parking spot and then he calls Taehyung back, taking several deep breaths as he waits for the other man to pick up.
“Thought you were ditching me,” Taehyung says right away.
“I don’t lie,” Jungkook replies, eyes on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure I can make it to lunch, Taehyung-ah, I need to help abeoji with the store.”
“You’re always helping your abeonim with the store,” Taehyung whines and Jungkook bites down his lower lip enough to bruise. “We haven’t seen each other in ages.”
Jungkook knows. He’s made sure of that.
Ever since Taehyung and Jimin pulled away from the Lord, Jungkook’s parents have been relentless in allowing their son to hang out with the two of them. At first, Jungkook had been insistent, telling his parents that his friends were just a little lost, that they would find their way back to the church and our Lord and Savior, but as time went on and the gossip around town grew, it became hard for Jungkook to continue to deny reality.
“Look,” Taehyung says after silence as settled for too long. “I know what people say about us, and I’m not asking for you to stop believing in what you believe in. We just want to eat a meal with our friend.”
Jungkook breathes out, a weird feeling settling in his chest. A succession of memories goes through his mind; them laying on the floor of Jimin’s bedroom, listening to Girls Generation and chewing a box of gum Taehyung had bought from Ahjussi Kim’s store. Them on the ferris wheel at a nearby town for a school day trip, with their arms up in the air, laughing at the top of their lungs. Them running out of school because the movie session of Avatar was starting in less than 15 minutes.
Despite everything, Jungkook misses them.
“Alright,” he hears himself say, already thinking about his next confession. “I’ll be right there.”
It’s been a long time since Jungkook felt this nervous. Maybe when he was waiting for the SAT results, or when his eomma found a lump in one of her breasts. Life defining moments that are sure to leave one extremely anxious. This is not one of those moments, so Jungkook doesn’t understand why he feels like throwing up as he parks his car and walks inside the little restaurant that has not changed at all in the past eight years.
Taehyung and Jimin are sitting in their usual spot by the left corner, and as soon as he’s spotted, Jungkook receives an excited wave of hand and a warm smile. From Taehyung. Jimin barely glances at him, his hair now colored in a soft shade of pink. Jungkook’s immediate thought is what would his parents think about it, but he knows Jimin hasn’t spoken to either of them in months.
Jungkook approaches them carefully, sitting opposite the other two men and keeping his hands clasped together under the table. It’s awkward, but Taehyung tries not to make it so. He asks Jungkook about his day, and about his life, and his job. Jungkook tells him, but doesn’t go into detail; not because he doesn’t want to share, but because he’s been taught one shouldn’t speak of oneself too much. And also, nothing in his life has changed since the three of them stopped speaking everyday.
In return, Taehyung tells him about his own ever-changing life. He tells Jungkook about working at the record store, and how much he’s learned about music, and says he’s thinking of finally trying the SAT’s again. Jimin finally appears to be listening to their conversation when he nods, ruffling Taehyung’s hair. They look at each other for a moment and Jungkook knows, without even needing to ask, that they have strained away too far.
He looks down at the menu and tries not to make any sort of disapproving face. It’s not up to him to judge others’ choices; that he leaves to God, when their time comes (which Jungkook hopes is in a very distant future).
“You look like you wanna say something.” Hearing Jimin’s voice for the first time in months makes Jungkook’s head snap up. He blinks at the man who used to be his best friend and sees nothing but disdain in his stare. Jimin has put an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Or maybe you want to ask a question.”
“It’s not my business, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook replies, feeling weird for using formal speech with someone he’s been friends with since he was 8 years old. “I’m only here because Taehyung-ah asked me.”
“So you didn’t want to come?” Jimin presses, raising an eyebrow. “What, you’re afraid of catching the homosexuality disease? Don’t worry, you can’t. People are born this way.”
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung pleads, looking at him. “I asked you.”
Jimin shakes his head, breathing heavily through his mouth. “I’m sorry, jagiya, I know. I’ll behave.” He turns his eyes back to Jungkook, and his expression has softened a bit. “Nevermind what I said.”
Jagiya. So it’s true, then. Not just gossip. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin are having a romantic relationship. Jungkook tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, but it’s almost impossible. He looks back down at the menu and quickly decides on soy sauce bibimbap for his order, but keeps his eyes on the variety of options for a few more minutes in order to gather his thoughts.
Jungkook doesn’t know how to approach this topic without making Jimin, or Taehyung, upset. And he has no intention of getting either man to dislike him. That’s why he has kept his distance from them; he doesn’t wish to fight, but it would be untruthful if he denied part of him fears that the people at church would start viewing him differently if he keeps hanging out with Jimin and Taehyung so often like before. Maybe they would start stirring up rumors about Jungkook, too, and the mere idea of that makes Jungkook want to throw up.
“Have you decided on what to order?” Taehyung asks, and Jungkook nods, closing the menu and placing it over the table between them. Taehyung calls for the waiter and they all relay their orders to the man. Jungkook knows him, but doesn’t remember his name. He went to high-school with him, and the long look he gives to Jimin’s arm around Taehyung’s shoulders is telling enough. He’s judging them. “And three sodas, thank you.”
Jungkook almost says he doesn’t drink soda anymore, but he’s suddenly too nervous about the way the waiter looked at his friends. Is he part of Jungkook’s church? Jungkook has no memory of him there, only at school and it’s been so many years since then. Would he spread gossip around town about this moment? And if so, would he tell everyone that Jungkook was there, too? Would people start talking about him behind his back? Jungkook undoes the first button of his white dress shirt, hoping to breathe better.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, frowning at him.
“I’m fine,” Jungkook replies, voice only above a whisper. “Just hungry.”
Jimin scoffs, so Taehyung gives him another long look. Jungkook turns his eyes to him and tries to think of something to say that will make Jimin less hostile towards him, but comes off short. Jungkook’s not a liar, and to say he’s okay with their homosexuality would be to lie. Also, he doesn’t think either men would prefer him to be untruthful, anyway.
“What about you, Jimin-ssi, what are you doing these days?” Jungkook says instead, hoping a lighter topic will disarm Jimin a bit.
“I’m teaching a contemporary dance class to little kids,” Jimin replies easily. “It was always something I was passionate about and my parents always beat me up for it, saying it was too feminine. I’m glad to now be able to dance without fearing another black eye because I’m good, I’m very good at it, Jungkook. I was offered an intern teacher position at one of the dance studios in town, and I also can learn more and get better at it during the night, for free.”
“He’s perfect for it, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung beams, smiling. “You should come to one of his performances one day.”
“Yeah.”
Jungkook can’t see himself going to a performance like this, he isn’t even sure he knows what a contemporary dance is, but he won’t disagree. It would be rude to do so.
“I’m happy for you, Jimin-ssi.” And he really is. He’s sorry that Jimin’s parents were so hard on him, he remembers it well. “I’m glad you live on your own now.”
For the first time in months, Jimin offers him a smile. It’s a small one, but it’s something. Jungkook allows himself to feel glad for it because it helps to lessen his anxiety. When the food arrives, they eat mostly in silence.
As he leaves 30 minutes later, Jungkook promises to reach out to them soon.
He will need to repent for the sin of lying in his next confession.
Jungkook has worked at his father’s convenience store since he was 15-years old. He would come after school and stay there until the sun went down, getting his homework done in between attending to customers.
Now that he’s older and has no studies left to be done, Jungkook takes care of it most of the time. His shifts are long and often boring, but Jungkook’s thankful he even has a job, so he never complains. It would be a sin to do so.
It’s 9pm and Jungkook still has another hour to go before he can close the store. His father never allows him to close it before 10pm even though people hardly come by so late on weekdays. Tired out of his mind, Jungkook’s sitting behind the counter reading The Lives We Actually Have , a book his aunt had given him on his birthday last year when the bell door rings, announcing a customer has just arrived.
Jungkook lifts his eyes immediately, watching as a man walks through the aisles, whistling a song Jungkook has heard before, but can’t place. He’s tall, has long silver hair and sports a bomber jacket. Jungkook keeps looking, trying to remember where he knows him from, but nothing comes to mind. It’s not necessarily difficult to find people in this town Jungkook has never seen, but he doesn’t look like a local, at least not a local that would come here. He’s probably just passing by. Some people do that, sometimes.
The man finally decides on a beer grid and takes it to the counter, offering Jungkook a smirk as he asks for a pack of cigarettes. Jungkook closes his book and turns around to grab one from the brand the man asks for; Dunhill. Common choice. He places it on the counter between them, right next to the six beer grid.
“Thank you,” the man says, his deep voice evoking a weird feeling under Jungkook’s bones. “How much do I owe you?”
Jungkook calculates the cost for a brief moment. “₩49, 738.”
“Good at math,” he comments. The man grabs a lollipop from under the counter and unwraps it, putting it inside his mouth. “How about now?”
Jungkook gulps down. “₩49, 942.”
“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” the customer says as he takes a ₩50,000 bill out of his wallet and slides across the counter. “What’s your name?”
Jungkook doesn’t reply, taking the money and placing 50 cents of change on top of the beer grid. Kim Namjoon hesitates for a moment, but ultimately takes the coin and puts it inside the charity box right next to the candy bars. He sucks on the lollipop, eyes studying Jungkook’s face.
“I have to close soon,” Jungkook mutters, starting to feel a little tense.
Kim Namjoon nods, taking the pack of cigarettes and shoving it inside his back pocket. Jungkook looks for only a moment, noticing the man’s wearing tight jeans. When his eyes go back up to Namjoon’s face, he has another smirk on his lips.
Jungkook resists the urge of rolling his eyes. They stay silent for a moment longer. When Namjoon grabs the grid, Jungkook almost sighs in relief.
Then, just when Jungkook thinks the man would leave, he stops, body halfway towards the entrance. He pops the lollipop out of his lips.
“Do you wear a cross all the time?” Kim Namjoon asks, eyes settled on the necklace around Jungkook’s neck. “Do you have more than one?”
Jungkook suddenly wants to hide the object under his shirt. The way Namjoon’s staring at it makes Jungkook unnerved, as if the other man isn’t supposed to look at it, as if this mere action could cause the thing to burn Jungkook’s skin. It’s a weird, absurd feeling, and he has no idea where it came from.
“I do wear it at all times,” Jungkook replies, not sure why he’s even bothering. Something tells him Namjoon isn’t interested in his cross at all. “I have more than one, but this is– more important.”
Jungkook almost says it is made out of gold. It’s not information you share with strangers at 9:20pm on a Thursday night when you’re both alone in a convenience store. His eomma says he’s too innocent, sometimes.
“Oh, so it’s expensive, then,” Namjoon concludes anyway, clicking his tongue and popping the lollipop inside his mouth again, fitting it on his left cheek. “What does it represent?”
“I’m sorry?”
Namjoon shrugs. “What does the cross represent to you? Your unwavering love for the Almighty? Your dedication to him? Or is it just a fashion statement?”
“Of course it’s not a fashion statement,” Jungkook almost spits, anger bubbling up quickly. He tries to breathe to calm himself. “Having the cross on me helps me stay grounded.”
“On what?”
“On God.” Jungkook looks away, shaking his head. This conversation is bothering him. “I don’t know why you’re asking me so many questions.”
“I’m trying to get to know you.”
“Why?”
Namjoon smirks, then. He puts the candy back in his mouth, sucks on the lollipop for a moment, then pops it out again, his lips now shining with the sweetness of it.
“Because I’d love to see you pray.”
Jungkook’s speechless. The words shock him so strongly that he can’t do anything other than stare at Namjoon’s face with what he hopes is a blank expression. There’s a small frown between Jungkook’s eyes and his lips are closed, but otherwise, he thinks he manages not to show any emotion.
“Come to Yeonghon church on Sunday morning, then,” he says slowly, chin up. “I’m an acolyte, so I’ll be there. Praying.”
Jungkook thinks he sees Namjoon’s eyes darken at that. He asks himself why did he answer so truthfully when Namjoon’s probably just messing with him. These types of boys, boys who wear tight jeans, bomber jackets and dye their hair weird colors are never serious about the Lord. Jungkook spent his entire life being made fun of by boys like Namjoon.
“Yeonghon church,” Namjoon repeats absentmindedly. He clicks his tongue again. “Alright. I’ll be there.”
“What?”
Jungkook blinks at him, a faint burn on his cheeks to match his most likely dumbfounded expression. Namjoon shrugs, still smirking.
“I’m new to town. Well, not new , but I haven’t been here in 13 years, so I guess you can say I’m a new resident,” Namjoon explains. “I know basically no one.”
“And you want to meet people at church?”
Namjoon tilts his head. “Is that a problem? What, don’t I look like the religious type?”
Jungkook looks him up and down. Along with the silver hair and the bomber jacket, Namjoon has a tattoo peeking out from his wrist and several earrings pierced through his ear. Looking a bit closely, Jungkook thinks he even catches a hint of eye makeup. And if looks are deceiving, actions are not; the beer grid’s still on the counter and the pack of Dunhill is still in his back pocket.
“No, you don’t,” he replies honestly. “But everyone is welcomed at our church.”
“Very sweet,” Kim Namjoon says, offering him a different smile. A kinder one. Jungkook couldn’t be more confused. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at Yeonghon church on Sunday at… what time?”
“9am.”
“9am,” Namjoon repeats. He pouts a bit. “And yet, I still don’t know your name.”
Jungkook licks his lips, staring at this weird stranger for a beat too long.
“Jeon Jungkook.”
“Thank you,” Namjoon sighs, bowing dramatically. He grabs the beer grid and makes a motion to leave, glancing at Jungkook one last time, lollipop still settled against his inner cheek. “See you at church.”
“See you at church,” Jungkook repeats, but Namjoon’s already walking out the door. He watches, through the store’s glass window, as the man shoves the grid in the backseat of a car and enters the passenger side. Squinting, Jungkook recognizes the driver.
Min Yoongi, their church’s rebel son. The guy Jimin and Taehyung started worshiping four months before they stopped coming to Sunday Mass.
Of course Namjoon had been lying about not knowing anyone.
Jungkook looks away, shivering a bit. Quietly, he asks God to never cross his path with this man’s again.
When Sunday comes, Jungkook’s at church at 8am, as usual.
He comes in earlier to help settle everything in and put on his cassock. He has two; one completely white and one white with red stripes. Today, he decided to wear the one with red details.
Jungkook woke up a bit fidgety, sticking with sweat and a dry mouth. It startled him because he doesn’t have trouble sleeping at all. He had a nightmare, he’s sure of it, but he can’t remember anything about it. All he knows to attest to it is the weird feeling in his chest when he opened his eyes to face the ceiling and the absolute disarray of his bed.
It would be foolish of him to pretend he doesn’t know why he feels so anxious. The encounter with the stranger named Namjoon hasn’t left Jungkook’s mind for longer than an hour since it happened three days ago. It annoys him, how often he’s thinking of it, but no amount of prayer has been able to take him away from his thoughts. And the weirdest thing about it is that Jungkook doesn’t want to confess it to Father Lee next Thursday. What would he even say, anyway? That a man bought a beer grid, a pack of cigarettes and a lollipop and has been tarnishing Jungkook’s thoughts since? Father Lee would think Jungkook’s straining away like Jimin and Taehyung, and that is not the case at all.
Jungkook may not know what the case is, but he knows it’s not that.
“Are you okay, son?” Father Lee asks a little before the Mass has to start, his kind eyes watching Jungkook with worry. “You have been so quiet today. Well, you are quiet by nature, but today, specifically, you are very silent.”
“I think I slept poorly, Father,” Jungkook replies, bowing in apology. “Maybe I should go wash my face.”
“Yes, do that, son.”
Jungkook bows again and walks down the nave to the common bathrooms. He never liked to use the one in Father Lee’s chambers, even if he allows all acolytes to use. Besides, the distance of the bathroom to the altar gives him more time to breathe and try to get his mind in the right place. Jungkook is not someone who feels upset often, so he doesn’t believe his parents or the priest would recognize it in him, which is a good thing. He doesn’t wish to share his annoyance with anyone. Only God knows how he feels and Jungkook hopes He helps to lessen these feelings.
When he gets to the bathroom, Jungkook shuts the door quietly and goes to one of the sinks to wash his face. The coldness of it helps to calm him a bit, but Jungkook wishes he had medicine instead. His parents never allowed him to go see a doctor about his anxiety, always telling Jungkook to pray instead. And praying does help, sometimes, but other times, like right now, it doesn’t. Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, the droplets of water falling from his eyebrow and lips. His heart is beating so fast Jungkook fears it might actually explode.
Nothing has happened. Nothing is happening. Why does he feel like this, then? It becomes sillier the more he thinks about it.
The door to one of the bathroom stalls opens up and Jungkook sees him through the mirror, dressed like blasphemy personified. Namjoon’s wearing a black leather jacket with a silk see through white shirt, his silver hair pushed back with gel.
“Jeon Jungkook,” he greets, clearly surprised to see him, eyes traveling down his cassock, then back up to his face. “You look good.”
Jungkook turns around, holding each side of the marble sink, hoping that will help to keep himself steady. His head is a bit afloat now, so it takes him a few seconds to gather his thoughts enough to ask:
“What are you wearing?”
Namjoon looks down at himself. “I was at a party last night,” he explains. “It lasted until the morning, naturally. I was nervous I’d miss the mass so I came straight from there, just put some gel on my hair my friend had on his car for some reason.”
Jungkook feels the water slide from his eyebrow to his nose, from his cheek to his neck. He takes another look at Namjoon’s clothing, having a really hard time processing it.
“You can’t wear this at church,” he says, and maybe if he was someone else, his tone would be more incisive. Jungkook can picture Jimin in this situation, before when he was still someone else. His friend would say it as if it’s obvious, as if everyone should know you can’t wear a see through shirt and a combo of black leather jacket and pants to church.
Namjoon scratches the back of his neck and stares Jungkook down.
“ Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest , Matthew 11:28,” Namjoon says. “I don’t think it matters much how I’m dressed. To Him, at least.”
The words take Jungkook by surprise. He frowns deeply, staring dumbly at Namjoon for longer than is considered polite. Jungkook feels heat on his cheeks. Namjoon is right. Another thing he needs to repent for now.
“You wouldn’t have a shirt I could borrow, though, would you?”
Jungkook nods, but doesn’t move. He feels ashamed and, on top of that, he can’t help but find it fascinating how easily Namjoon was able to quote the Bible. None of this makes any sense. Is Jungkook also guilty of the sin of judgment? His confusion must be splattered on his face because Namjoon speaks again as he shifts the weight of his body to his left leg.
“You invited me, why are you surprised I’m here?”
That is a good question. Jungkook doesn’t have an answer for him, at least not one that would make any sort of logical sense. So, he turns around to grab a paper towel and dries his face, crunching the paper before throwing it in the trash. When he looks at Namjoon again, the other man has that smirk on his face. Annoying.
“Stay here,” Jungkook says because he’s a good Christian and he would never deny someone something so simple as a shirt.
He walks between the pews, saying hi and how are you along the way to the dozens of people who have already arrived and are talking amongst themselves as they wait for the mass to begin. Father Lee is, naturally, at the back, away from the view of the congregation for the time being. Father likes to close his eyes and talk to God before each service.
Jungkook arrives at his bag and takes out the shirt he had been wearing when he arrived. He wonders if it will fit Namjoon because the man is quite broad, but he doesn’t have another one, so it will have to do. He puts it inside his cassock and makes his way back to the bathroom, saying another handful of hi and how are you along the way.
When he gets there, a fellow congregant is washing his hands and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen. The man smiles upon seeing Jungkook, starting up a small conversation about his parents and how proud of him they must be seeing their son so involved with the church. Jungkook looks down, catching sight of black sneakers inside one of the stalls.
“Thank you,” Jungkook says to the man, bowing slightly. “I’m sure eomma and abeoji must be arriving soon.”
“I’ll tell them all I told you, then!”
The man gives Jungkook a pet on the shoulder and walks out of the bathroom. Namjoon opens the stall, stepping outside with a thoughtful expression.
“What?” Jungkook asks as he pulls out the shirt from between his garments and throws it in Namjoon’s direction. The man catches it with one hand.
“Nothing,” he mutters slowly, taking off his jacket and putting it on top of the marble. “I was just wondering about you.”
“About me?”
Jungkook’s so confused by the statement that he fails to realize Namjoon is going to change shirts right in front of him almost too late. He looks away right when Namjoon starts to swing his silk white shirt over his head and throws it over his jacket.
“Yeah, about you.”
Jungkook has diverted his eyes to the floor, the image of the small parts of Namjoon’s naked body he was able to see swirling on his stupid mind. He takes a deep breath.
It’s not a big deal , he tells himself.
“I’m dressed. You can look, altar boy.”
Jungkook lifts his eyes, ignoring the shiver that ran through his limbs upon hearing Namjoon refer to him as altar boy . They stare at each other for a moment. Namjoon smirks. Annoying.
“What are you wondering about me?” Jungkook can’t resist asking.
Namjoon shrugs, grabbing his jacket to put it on again. Jungkook’s shirt is tight against his chest.
“How old are you?”
“24.”
“A bit old to be an acolyte, is it not?”
“I like it, so Father Lee allowed me to stay.” Jungkook feels a bit hot inside his cassock. He clasps his hands together behind his back. “Is that all?”
Namjoon shakes his head. “Not even close.”
“Why?” Jungkook sighs. “Why’re you so interested in me? I’m not– whatever it is you think I am.”
“How would you know that if you don’t even know what I think you are?”
Jungkook presses his lips together. Namjoon licks his lips, taking a step forward, so, naturally, Jungkook takes a step back. That makes Namjoon chuckle, for some reason.
“Do you know who you are, Jeon Jungkook-ssi?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “Then, tell me.”
“I don’t know you, why would I tell you anything about me?” Jungkook’s getting irritated and that makes him more anxious than anything. Anger is not an emotion he’s used to feeling; he’s not even sure he knows how to be properly angry. “Just attend the mass and leave me alone.”
Namjoon takes a step forward again and Jungkook takes another one back. Namjoon doesn’t chuckle this time. There’s darkness in his eyes, an intensity Jungkook doesn’t remember seeing in anyone. It leaves him kind of breathless.
“You want me to leave you alone?” Namjoon asks, voice low. Jungkook nods. “Okay. I will leave you alone, Jeon Jungkook-ssi.”
“Thank you.”
There’s a weird lump on Jungkook’s throat.
“How do I give your shirt back?”
“Meet me here when everyone’s gone.”
“I thought I was supposed to leave you alone,” Namjoon says, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“ After you give me my shirt, you can leave me alone.”
Namjoon clicks his tongue. “Deal.”
Sighing deeply, Jungkook walks out of the bathroom and basically sprints to the altar, realizing his conversation with Namjoon almost made him miss the beginning of the service.
His mind wasn’t in it today and Jungkook fears everyone’s noticed. His mother gives him a long look when it’s her turn to take the communion, but doesn’t say anything. Jungkook puts the wafer on her tongue and tries to void his mind of thoughts. It works until Namjoon stops in front of him to take his communion. He has no smile on his face now, which strikes a bit strange to Jungkook considering all their previous encounters.
“I haven’t seen you at our church before,” the priest says to Namjoon. “Are you baptized?”
“I am, Father,” Namjoon replies, dragging his eyes from Jungkook to the old man. “And I confessed my sins last week, to another priest.”
Jungkook doesn’t believe him, but holds his tongue. Namjoon opens his mouth so Jungkook can place the communion on it, but Jungkook just holds it in front of him so he can have it. With a smirk, Namjoon takes it.
Annoying.
After the mass is done, Jungkook waits for everyone to leave. He normally stays until late because of his role in the church, but not this late, so Father Lee questions it.
“Just want to stay here a little longer,” Jungkook says. He can confess to that lie later.
Father smiles, tells him what a good boy he is, then goes to his rooms.
Jungkook feels bad about his existence right now. He doesn’t know how he’s gone from never lying to doing so twice in the expanse of a week. First to Jimin and Taehyung and now to his priest. And if his mother questions him later, he will have to lie to her, too.
He looks up at Christ, trapped to the Cross.
I’m sorry, he thinks. I will do better for Thee.
Jungkook waits a few more minutes and then goes to the bathroom, where he finds Namjoon sitting on the marble sink, Jungkook’s shirt already off him, resting on his lap.
“Before you take this and I leave you alone,” Namjoon says when Jungkook closes the door behind him. “I have a question.”
“Another one?” Jungkook sighs, resisting a sudden and very uncharacteristic urge to roll his eyes. “Fine. Ask me.”
Namjoon smiles softly. Jungkook’s eyes focus on his dimples.
“Why do I bother you so much?”
“You don’t bother me.”
Lie number three.
“Don’t I?” Namjoon tilts his head to the side. “Then why are you clenching your hands?”
Jungkook looks down at his fists. He hadn’t even realized. He releases his fingers.
“Have you ever considered you’re just being pushy?”
Namjoon’s eyes go a bit wide, but he doesn’t seem surprised, exactly.
“I have done nothing but try to get to know you, Jungkook-ssi, and now that you’ve told me you wish for me to leave you alone, I will,” Namjoon says. “From a christian to another, I just wanted to know why you don’t want to befriend me.”
Jungkook holds his tongue from saying the things that come to his mind about Namjoon’s christianity and takes a deep breath.
“You just–” Should Jungkook be honest? He’s lied enough this week, after all. Twice inside the church. “I don’t know,” he confesses. “I don’t know why you bother me so much. Maybe we’re just too different.”
“But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart’.”
“Stop it.”
“Why? I’m just quoting what you believe in.”
Jungkook breathes out. “And you don’t?”
“I do believe in it, partially. Not in the church, though,” Namjoon puts Jungkook’s shirt on the counter and swings forward to stand up. He lands on his feet. “I figured some shit out about myself and realized the church would not be welcoming.”
Jungkook runs a hand over his face. “Alright,” he mutters. “I’m sorry about that. I just don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
“Everything,” Namjoon replies, opening his arms as if that’s an obvious conclusion. “I want to be your friend, Jungkook-ssi, but if that’s not what you want, of course I will respect it.”
Jungkook looks at Namjoon, so many weird sensations imploding inside of him he feels a bit sick.
Lord, Jungkook says in his head, knowing he’s being heard. Please, keep me sane.
“Are you talking to Him?” Namjoon asks with the smirk, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his jeans as he steps closer. “Asking for permission to walk with the likes of me?”
Jungkook gives him a look. Everything inside of him is a mess.
Suddenly, he thinks of Jimin and Taehyung, and how happy they seemed to be. Jungkook doesn’t know why the thought occurs, so he shakes it away.
“Leave me alone,” he decides and the reaction to it is visible in the way Namjoon’s shoulders slump and the annoying ever-present smirk falls from his face.
Jungkook walks around him to grab his shirt, not glancing at Namjoon once before leaving the bathroom and going to behind the altar to change. When Jungkook walks back out, Namjoon’s staring at Jesus Christ from the altar. Jungkook stops, not sure how to react to the scene, anxious at how his thoughts betray himself.
Beautiful.
The word disappears from his mind as soon as he thinks it.
Namjoon’s eyes go to him and he offers Jungkook a sad smile. “Goodbye, Jungkook-ssi.”
Jungkook can’t say a word as he watches Namjoon walk through the aisle and out of the church. Only when the door closes behind him, Jungkook notices he has been holding his breath.
He lets go.