IMBER | jikook

1 • the shop

It was the first time in his life that Jeon Jungkook, an art student, had to face a bad grade on his report card. One couldn't really say it was bad, but for someone who lived only for praise, much like how children lived for dreams, it was a nightmare. He wasn't particularly sad or disturbed, as he rarely felt such emotions that he considered a waste of time. No, what filled the young man's heart was anger. A feeling he liked because it had partly brought him this far. Yet even his anger was not enough to correct his grade.

The doorbell of the small corner shop on Gwanghwamun Street rang, allowing a small bleached-blond head to enter, automatically turning Jungkook's head towards it. This was a regular customer, known to everyone because he always came at the same hours, bought the same materials, and always left with the same faint smile barely visible on his lips, as if they held a secret only they knew and relished being so special. That's what Jungkook had noticed while watching this spectacle unfold for over a year, every time he came here. He didn't particularly pay attention to the surrounding world, so he rarely noticed such things, but this mysterious character, straight out of a child's imagination with paint-splattered overalls, red Converse sneakers, T-shirts with different rock bands, and freckles scattered across his cheeks that rose every time he smiled, had eventually caught his attention and curiosity. He wasn't going to talk to him, what was the point of doing that? They didn't know each other, and Jungkook didn't want that to change; he just wanted everything to stay the same. He hated more than anything else when something interrupted his beautiful, calm, and secure daily routine. He loved his little habits, which consisted of living, sleeping, eating, and drawing. And for the past year, admiring this strange individual. He was once again going to watch him leave, only this time, the young man stepped on his untied shoelace and fell, sending the various colored sheets he had just bought flying. Jungkook never reacted in these situations, preferring to wait for someone else to come and help, especially since he had just ruined the perfect routine he had every time he came here. When he saw the blond man pick up his supplies without the help that was taking too long to arrive and leave, making the doorbell chime again, he decided it was time for him to go home as well.

He got up and dragged his feet to the door, sitting at a bus stop, his mind filled with all sorts of things that just being aware of them made him feel annoyed. Normally, he would just erase these emotions from his mind and pretend that everything was perfectly fine, and it was, he had nothing to complain about in his life. At least not until that bad grade had tarnished the beauty of his grades. That was the problem with someone without problems; they found a problem where there wasn't one. And thinking wasn't Jungkook's strong suit; he liked things that were logical. Many said he could have been a better engineer than the painter he wanted to become. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue, a gesture that indicated his clear frustration. Once on the bus, he looked at the cityscape passing beneath him. He could replicate it perfectly with a snap of his fingers, so why was his teacher not satisfied? He submitted all his work on time, had the best grades and the best technique, he could recite his entire course as if reciting the alphabet, so why? Why tell him that he wasn't enough? Art held no secrets for him because everything always followed a certain logic that he easily understood without thinking more than necessary.

When the bus stopped at his stop, he thanked the driver with a nod and headed straight home. It was a large house in a well-placed neighborhood in Seoul; he lived with his parents and had decided not to have a student residence. His parents had the means to have such a comfortable home, so why leave, Jungkook thought. It was logical not to complicate his life by going into debt to pay for another place to live. He took off his shoes before putting on his slippers and heading upstairs to his room before a voice called out, making him sigh for the thousandth time that day.

- Oh dear, you're home? Come here, your mother would like to see you!

He turned around to take the path to the living room, where his mother was changing the bouquet in the vase on the coffee table. She loved doing that, but she rarely had time because of work and couldn't find a florist talented enough to match her tastes, as she put it, so sometimes the flowers would wither in the vase, and Jungkook would wait for his parents to throw them away because, as he had done with the strange boy in the shop, he never did anything himself if someone else could do it for him. He saw no point in it. He sat down on the couch, staring into space with a vacant look, which didn't escape the woman.