UNIVERSE / BTS.

28: rewrite the stars / minjoon

REWRITE
THE STARS
( part 3 )

WORD COUNT 1.8K
OVERVIEW "but i can't have you, we're bound to break, and my hands are tied"

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NAMJOON AND JIMIN SAT in namjoon's private greenhouse, glass protecting the two men from the pattering raindrops outside. a teapot was placed on the small table between them, namjoon sitting on a low wooden stool, with a plain canvas in front of him, while jimin was on a small plush sofa, terribly out of place amongst the luxurious surroundings.

he fiddled with the hem of his nicest shirt, looking at namjoon with some nervousness. the older boy was mixing paints, a look of concentration on his face. "you can speak, you know," the other man spoke, startling jimin. "you don't have to sit there like an ornament. even if you and i are different, society-wise, in here it can be you and me. we can be you and me in these four walls, okay?"

"o-okay," jimin stuttered, relaxing-ever-so-slightly and smiling, attempting to relive the tension that seemed thick in the air. "what is it that you want to know?"

namjoon hummed a song jimin didn't know, beginning to dab white paint onto the canvas. "well..." he mused, looking at jimin closely. "describe to me how it feels when you're in the air. what emotions you feel when you hear the crowd cheering you."

jimin crossed and uncrossed his legs, seemingly inspecting a bright orange azalea plant so he could avoid namjoon's eyes. "i feel like i could defeat anyone. like i own the world, like i'm soaring above it all and i can never fall. like i'm just a speck of dust, floating in empty space, yet people notice me as if i was a supernova."

"beautiful," namjoon whispered, as if jimin couldn't hear him. the greenhouse was so silent, that anything was easily heard above the rain that would soon fade. jimin's cheeks turned pink, and he watched as namjoon's gentle hands painted a masterpiece he couldn't see. "continue."

jimin did continue; he told namjoon of his infancy in the circus, how he'd learnt his flying tricks at the tender age of five, how he could climb silk like he was designed for it, how everyone praised him and how he loved performing with his brothers and best friends. and namjoon listened, he was such a good listener, and jimin spoke until he thought his tongue would fall out, and namjoon painted and painted until his canvas was deemed finished.

the two men sat on namjoon's luxurious red sofa, glasses of wine in their hands, albeit it only being four p.m. jimin looked upon how the four o'clock light fell across namjoon's prominent, gorgeous features, and he found himself noticing once again just how attractive the artist was. he knew it was foolish to think about pursuing a relationship, as most men were not like jimin, and viewed him as an abomination.

it was, however, namjoon who bought up the topic occupying jimin's mind, with a silky smooth voice, coated in pinot noir and smooth mozart symphonies. "jimin," he asked, a hand resting on jimin's thigh that jimin didn't push away. it was warm, comforting. "this is a rather... personal question, but it's been playing on my mind. i hope you don't mind."

"ask away, namjoon." jimin nodded, taking a long sip from his glass. namjoon hummed, eyes fixed on jimin's plush lips.

"are you... do you like men, jimin? in a romantic sense?" namjoon's voice shook as he asked, and when jimin nodded he looked extremely relieved.

"i do," jimin responded, without hesitation. he wasn't ashamed of it, no matter how many people insulted him for it. "i do. and you?"

"mmhm" namjoon hummed, his lips set in a thin line. jimin suspected namjoon was one of the many men like him he had met; one of the men who were ashamed of who they were, who were frightened of how people would act. of course, being a homosexual was illegal in the country they were in, a deadly thing that could either end you up in prison or having to be chemically castrated, because homosexuals were supposed to all be pedophiles and rapists. no wonder people like namjoon existed, if the world was like that.