VMINKOOK / THE ART OF BEEKEEPING

61

— PART SIXTY-ONE.

( tw: mentions of abuse/violence. it's not really graphic but always better safe than sorry! )

Jangmi has been watching her brother for the past few weeks. As the year had burned into spring, it appeared the boy himself was somewhat tethered to such a transition, as his own cold integument wilts away some. It's like a baptism, she thinks, wherein his body had been drowned in holy water, only, instead of turning over a new leaf willingly, his skin fizzled under the touch of heaven. As the water poured over him, he'd screamed at the burn, as it streamed down his skin and tore it away, burning away his sins. The burn-marks left behind make him look happier.

He looks so happy as he finishes off the remainder of Jaewon's protein powder, blitzing it up in some sort of shake. It almost sounds like he's humming to himself, that, or he's coaxed the blender into humming a pretty, little tune. Park Jimin stands beside him, plucking stray threads from his shirt, eyes scanning yet nonchalant, so domestic and grotesque it almost makes Jangmi want to cry.

"Don't you own any clothes that aren't falling to pieces?" Jimin chides him, light and nimble, a quaint burst of glitter popping from his grin.

Jeongguk looks at him plainly for a moment, eyes slightly narrow, pursed lips that turn into a smile in the corners, quirking up like there are hooks forcing them. He presses the blender again and lets it's noise shake the room. He speaks over it, yells, "I didn't think you'd complain about my clothes showing off more of my body."

Jangmi scowls to herself, disgusted at the notion. Jimin slaps the boy with the back of his hand, sharing the same idea that it was an embarrassing thing to say in front of Jangmi. Jeongguk grins at him, and Jimin rolls his eyes and waits for the blender to stop, before retorting, "You're so shameless, it's actually—" And Jeongguk presses the button again, drowning out his words with the interminable drill of the blender. Jimin glowers at him, while his boyfriend doesn't bother to hide is exaltation, letting it flood out of him, spooling from his tall body, so thick and palpable it almost manages to harmonise with the horrendous noise, to soothe it into something beautiful and effervescent.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" He asks, as he releases the button, eyes alight, orange fire, burning into a shade of faux innocence, smogs of smoke pooling from him, strong and irritating in a way Jimin can't help but excite over.

"Yeah, I was say—" This time, when Jeongguk presses down on the button, Jimin launches at him, arms around his chest, yanking him backwards, forcing the blender to stop with the release of Jeongguk's finger, which makes him laugh a little. "You're a prick." Jimin tells him, laughs it into his ear, as he pries him away from the machine.

Jeongguk chuckles back at him, brittle and smouldering, and, with his cheeks rosey and eyes grieving with the poison arrow of love, he snaps his head around and slaps his lips to Jimin's forehead.

The younger boy pulls away, startled, cheeks burning to match Jeongguk's, incredulous and benign, and combined together in such a state that it's near brought impossible to distinguish one from the other. Eyes tearing blue skies into their magnetic field, swirling their visions with glory and gold, their lips buzz, pink and preening, pulled into each other and their obvious attractions.

A cough splits the fantasy of their mesmeric wonderland apart, cracking, loud and real, and dampening their grins.

She doesn't mean to spoil their good mood, but Jangmi can't help but to ask them, to let her curiosity fall out of her so sublimely, in a tone thats both terrified and tender, as she asks, "you're not worried?"