YOUTH. | JK | COMPLETE

nightmare

NO HALO
BROCKHAMPTON

Used to fight all my night terrors, now I smoke through the dreams
Depression put me into places where I'm stuck in the seams
They seal my mouth, and said the only way to breathe is to scream
Pop the stitches from society and fall to my knees
The machines weavin' our fate are gettin' harder to please

Jeongguk is wearing a suit.

He likes suits, they make him feel fancy and dignified. Not like a farmer from Busan. This suit is particularly nice, though. The black satin over his shoulders is well fitted and smooth. The white cotton dress shirt beneath has gold buttons, engraved with a floral pattern. His hair is slicked back from his face, and his wire glasses are perched on his nose. When Jeongguk looks up from his clothing, though, he recognizes where he is.

A meadow on the very edge of his property, beyond the fields where he grows his crops. Weeping willows hang down, and delicate pink wild flowers grow in the plush grass. But there isn't just trees, flowers and grass. There are chairs, and in the chairs, people in equally pristine attire. The chairs surround a long, white strip of linen that stretches from the meadow to the edge of the forest bordering his property. The people are his friends, the people he grew up with, and their soulmates.

He wonders what's going on, but he forgets his confusion when the people in the crowd gasp and look down at the end of the long piece of linen. There, in a pure white suit, tan skin stark and glowing against the light material, is a dark haired man. He takes careful steps on the linen, walking towards Jeongguk. He looks stunning, ethereal. When he finally reaches the end of the aisle, he rests his hand on Jeongguk's shoulder, sliding it up the slope of his neck to his cheek. Jeongguk melts into his touch.

"Jimin." Jeongguk murmurs clasping his fingers around the elder's wrist to hold his hand against his skin a little longer, as if when he removes it he'll never feel Jimin's warmth against him again.

"Well don't you look dashing, my dear?" Jimin smiles, stroking Jeongguk's cheek.

"Not as utterly dazzling as you." Jeongguk breathes out, basking in the sound of Jimin's giggle.

"Are you ready?" Jimin whispers, sliding his hand down to clasp Jeongguk's. Jeongguk opens his mouth to ask what for when a man approaches them, large book in hand, smiling kindly. Noticing his surprise, Jimin squeezes his hand. "He's my childhood pastor, he's ordained. He agreed to marry us, Jeonggukkie." He murmurs, and everything suddenly makes sense.

"We're getting married." Jeongguk breathes out in realization, and Jimin chuckles, looking up at Jeongguk with twinkling eyes.

"We are. Having second thoughts?" He asks, and Jeongguk immediately shakes his head.

"Never." He says softly. Jimin is his person, he knows it. He wouldn't rather be with anyone else.

"Good. Nice to see that you're still brazen." Jimin murmurs, referencing the night they first met. "Let us begin." Jimin says, hand still intertwined with Jeongguk's as he turns to the minister. He opens the book and reads, but Jeongguk's heart is beating too hard in his ears for him to hear. He finally tunes in on the last words.

"Do you, Park Jimin, take Jeon Jeongguk to be your husband?"

"I do." Jimin says, hand squeezing Jeongguk's.

"Do you, Jeon Jeongguk, take Park Jimin to be your husband?"

"I do." Jeongguk repeats through the ringing in his ears.