Chapter Text
The vintage lamp illuminates part of the desk, the world outside the window already dark, the days getting shorter and colder. The bulb casts a warm glow on the wood and the few items that sit in its vicinity. As carefully as he can, Jimin pulls out the chair and as he goes to sit down, he bumps the desk slightly, the lamp wobbling anxiously. Silently, he takes out a pen and his journal, still in quite pristine condition with far fewer entries than he thought there would be at this point.
“Test me, Lord, and try me, examine my heart and my mind,” Jimin whispers to himself as he begins to title his next journal entry.
JOURNAL ENTRY 9
I’m not even sure if I am learning anything anymore. All I seem to be able to think about is Taehyung and the things he has told me, his words still ring in my ears sometimes. Things like how the church is just a set of arbitrary rules and how, even if we stray we won’t get harmed in ways we are told we will be. It’s hard to listen to him …
Jimin pauses, his hand hesitating, the ink in the tip of the pen bulging, threatening to drop as he contemplates how to continue. After a few breaths, he finds his thoughts settle.
… but if I could, I would listen to him speak until my dying breath. His voice is so deep, the timbre so pleasant. Sometimes, I find myself replaying conversations we’ve shared just so I can hear his voice again. Of course, it’s not the same. It never can be. Curse my mind for not being able to recreate it. And his lips! The way they curve as he speaks or stay in a straight line. They’re not very full but have the appearance of being very soft. I sometimes imagine how soft they would feel, against my forehead, my cheeks, ears … my lips
Jimin stares at the words he’s written on the page, eyes wide in horror at the words reflecting back at him, the pen slips from his hand, rolling on the desk then crashing to the floor.
He grips the top of the page as if to tear it from the journal but stops himself, opting instead to flip the page over, hiding the unfinished thoughts from immediate view, tricking himself that if he can’t see them, they weren’t there, pretending that it wasn’t his hand who wrote those words.
— — —
Weeks go by before Jimin touches the journal again, guilt eating away at him each time he flicks through the latest entries which remain unlabeled, untitled, even the sheer thought of giving them the usual ‘JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER’ causes Jimin to recoil, but the hand that holds the pen is unrelenting. And so, Jimin continues to write as he falls apart, his thoughts spilling over the pages.
JOURNAL ENTRY
I refuse to give this entry a title - I don’t even want to give it a date, so to whoever finds this in the future, take this as a sign of a mild breakdown. I will recover from this, surely, so this really is a one time thing that should not be taken into account in determining my state of mind.
So often, I find myself determining that it is unforgivable what goes through my mind and even now as I sit here at my desk, hidden away in my room with nothing but my thoughts I cannot seem to stop myself from putting them down on paper. It is as if something has entered my body, my mind, and possessed me! My thoughts are despicable, my actions even more so. I have touched myself to the thought of Taehyung more than I can count on the fingers of one hand and now that this admission is on paper, in black ink on ivory pages, I have the strongest urge to rip it from its seams.
Discarding such confessions into a communal paper bin is practically incriminating, so these confessions shall reside here - it’s between me and God. No one else needs to know. No one needs to know that I have burning fantasies in the corners of my mind where Taehyung is always at the forefront of them. I’ve started noticing the way his scent lingers after he walks away. It’s a scent that only lingers in his vicinity, and when I get to my room it is no longer there and I feel as if something is missing. So often I have taken my deepest inhales when he is around me just to hang on to that smell for as long as I can. It’s futile, of course, but it satisfies me in the moment.
There are nights that I have cried before falling asleep. I am learning a lot, and I am very grateful to be here, but there are moments that I feel lonelier than I have ever felt.
Classes are getting more difficult, I find myself exhausted when I go back to my room, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow on most nights. I suppose that’s a good thing, less time for intrusive thoughts to occur. Less time to act on them.
I have this strange desire to be close to him. I don’t know where it came from but I find that I am more at ease when Taehyung is in the same room despite how uneasy he makes me feel. Putting it on paper I see that it makes no sense but nothing about this, or Taehyung makes sense. His mere presence, aura that spills from him seems to affect me on a cellular level. I don’t know how this happened but it can’t continue. I can’t keep relying on him being around. It’s absolutely ludicrous. There is only one person I should be relying on, and that is not Taehyung.
— — —
Jimin watches as Taehyung leaves with a small group - an entourage or fanclub, Jimin often thinks to himself - heading in an opposite direction. He narrows his eyes, wondering where they could be headed, then again, they each had different schedules. There are times where Jimin goes days without seeing Taehyung. He used to like that, now he finds himself disoriented when Taehyung is not around, almost like he’s lost his footing.
Later that day, Jimin spots Taehyung in the library, sitting crooked in a chair, nose in a book. Instantaneously, Jimin feels more at ease, subsequently internally kicking himself for such ideas.
He sets his study materials on a vacant bench close to the exit and heads over to Taehyung, who for the first time ever is in the library and alone. An uncommon occurrence.
“Taehyung,” he hisses and pulls Taehyung from his book. Something fictional. Or maybe poetry. Jimin doesn’t know, doesn’t really pay attention to it, but can easily tell it’s not a religious text.
“I’m busy,” Taehyung answers, eyes glued to the page.
“And I … need help. Please.”
“With what?” he lowers the book down, revealing his unamused face. Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat.
“I … uh … I need a book. From a high shelf. It’s … it’s out of reach for me,” Jimin makes up on the spot, a lie close enough to the truth that he deems it ok. He’ll confess about it later, if he can remember. Taehyung frowns, Jimin holds his breath, fearing he’s been caught in the lie.
“Fine,” Taehyung sighs and dog-ears his page, Jimin’s stomach twists. “Where is it?” he asks as he stands up.
“Um… this way,” Jimin says and turns to head down the nearest row of books. He’s sure there’s at least something of relevance there.
“Jimin, are you sure this is the right place?” Taehyung asks, sounding mildly annoyed. Jimin hates the pang of annoyance that disturbs the usual warmth of Taehyung’s voice, hopes to never hear it again.
“I’m sure it’s -”
“There is no book, is there?”
Jimin freezes and turns around to look at Taehyung who is closer than his voice earlier let on. “Not exactly,” Jimin hesitates.
“Was this some ploy to get me alone? Because I can assure you, you don’t need to go to such extremes,” Taehyung scoffs, displeased, but remaining glued to his spot.
“I did not want to get you alone,” Jimin lies through his teeth. It seems to get easier the more he does it.
“Don’t lie to me Jimin, I see through the facade you’re trying to build oh so carefully,” Taehyung rebuttals.
“Who did this to you?” Jimin asks through gritted teeth, glaring up at Taehyung who stands a breath away. He shouldn’t be this close to him, but Jimin wasn’t going to stand down now, he already made the mistake of leading them to a practically abandoned area of the library, not far from where he saw Taehyung kiss someone all those weeks earlier.
“God made me this way,” Taehyung smirks, leaning in, breath hot over Jimin’s lips. “Or maybe I’m a sheep who strayed from his flock,” he adds, accentuating the final syllable of the word. “Seems you may be too.”
Jimin swallows, feeling a lump in his throat. “I need you to leave,” he whispers, realizing how opposite of a request this is to the desire he had earlier to have Taehyung so close he could almost touch him, so close that the air between them mixed, two breaths becoming one.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere, my sweet Jimin. At least not anytime soon,” Taehyung grins.
“What have you got left to do here? Seduce more men? Haven’t you done enough ?” Jimin hisses. “I know it’s not only been the one I walked in on.”
“There’s one more left on my list,” Taehyung hums. “He seemed very reluctant, though I’m not entirely sure anymore.”
“Then maybe you should give it up and leave,” Jimin glares at him, hands balled up into fists at his sides.
Taehyung takes half a step closer and leans down, lips level with Jimin’s ear. “Patience is a virtue, little Jiminnie, and thankfully I have a lot of it,” he whispers, turns on his heel and proceeds to walk away.
“Wait!” Jimin whisper-shouts.
“What?” Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“The book,” Jimin answers, like it’s obvious, gesturing with his head to a shelf a little out of his reach.
Taehyung scoffs, lips turned up in a half smile. He grabs the side of the rolling ladder that runs along the railing at the top of the tall bookshelves and pushes it towards Jimin, watching as Jimin hurriedly reaches out to stop it, glaring in his direction. Before he can get a word in thought, Taehyung’s already walking away, the clattering of the ladder echoing as he puts distance between them.
JOURNAL ENTRY 10
I do not know what to do to get rid of the thoughts I have of Taehyung. He haunts me day and night.
Jimin pauses, looking at the words on the page. He sighs, and lowers his pen again.
I don’t know if I hate him or if in some way I am jealous of him. Fine, he doesn’t care about the Church, frankly I don’t think he has any care in the world for anything. He seems so nonchalant about everything. He carries himself with such importance but where I see arrogance, everyone else seems to adore him, fawn over him. Sure, he lights up the room when he walks in, a 1000 watt smile or whatever, but people don’t see what I see. Inside those large, brown twinkling eyes, there is darkness and something sinister. I don’t know what, and I do not care. It’s not for me to absolve him, nor do I believe he’d listen to me if I were to try to guide him on a path to the light, to absolution. It seems to be that he only really listens to himself and because of that, I feel he has to reach that point himself. There used to be light in him, I know this much. I see it, twinkling behind his large, chocolate-brown eyes, a charm that's so captivating, I see it when he answers questions or conducts sermons. It is, of course, the passion of the Lord that still beams through him.
It’s in all the other moments where that light dims. I fear for him, I think.
As Jimin lays on his side, gazing at a pool of white moonlight that slips in through the cracks, now spilling over his floor, a gust of wind blows the curtains out, long and pale, almost like a ghost, as though an invisible hand - the hand of God, Jimin imagines - was leafing through them. The pages of his opened journal ripple back and forth beneath the wind’s touch. Jimin rolls onto his other side and forces his eyes shut, guilt already gnawing at him.
— — —
Late at night, certain that everyone else on his wing is sound asleep, Jimin tiptoes to the closest bathroom to him. Usually, he doesn’t mind if there are others around, but this evening he wants to be alone, too many thoughts swimming in his head to bother with pointless social interaction.
In the cabin, he turns up the temperature to as high as he can take and stands beneath it, wincing slightly as the heat thumps against his body, maybe a little too hot but not something he can’t get used to.
From a nearby shelf, he grabs his soap and squirts a dollop on his hand, puts the bottle away, and lathers the soap until thick bubbles form between his hands.
Jimin watches as the water slips down his body and swirls down the shower drain, soap bubbles gathering before slowly following down the same path, willing his thoughts to do the same.
The mirror’s fogged up as he stands before it, water dripping from his hair, falling on his shoulders, rolling down the gentle slope of his nose and into the porcelain white sink. With the heel of his palm, he brushes against the pane to remove some of the condensation, his eyes looking back at him. As he stares at his reflection, he realizes that something within him has changed and maybe parts of him can no longer be suppressed.
— — —
JOURNAL ENTRY 11
I am once again plagued by dark thoughts !
Angrily, Jimin slams his journal shut, shoves it into a drawer, and gets into bed, rage still bubbling beneath his skin. Hot like the fires of hell that everyone always warns about.
In the pitch black, he turns onto his stomach, buries his face into his pillow and screams, the sound muffled by whatever the pillow is stuffed with. Some cheap polyester probably. Jimin doubts the Vatican can afford to stuff every single pillow with feathers.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” Jimin whispers, voice still so quiet even though he knows both the chapel and confessional are empty, he’s yet to see someone at quarter to six in the morning.
Like many times before, Jimin goes through the cycle of prayers, confessing to his wrong doings, admitting that he’ll do his best to contain his desires, lying through his lips as he does so. There’s very little possibility that he’ll be able to stay away from Taehyung, he’s aware of this, there’s something perverse that pulls him closer by the day, but he wants to stay in this pool of denial for just a little bit longer. It feels safer this way.
“Amen,” he finishes with a soft voice, following it with the sign of the cross, his eyes heavy with release and fatigue, the bags beneath them a clear sign that sleep hasn’t been coming to him easily in the past few weeks. He knows who’s to blame, but refuses to voice those thoughts, knowing where they’ll inevitably lead him.
“Are you going to go to confession each time you see me? Or is it the things you do in private beneath the blanket of the night that lead you here at the crack of dawn?” Taehyung asks, pulling the toggle to illuminate the main chamber of the confessional, revealing that he's been there all along.
Jimin gasps, tilting backwards slightly. “Taehyung! What are you - Why are you here?”
“What is it that we’re supposed to say… ah yes, I have to give you Penance , then the prayer of Absolution … though personally I don’t think there is anything to absolve you of,” Taehyung says casually, ignoring Jimin’s questions.
“What will you have me do as penance, then?” Jimin asks quietly, hands gripping on the small ledge beneath the caged window that divides him from desire embodied.
“I’d like for you to get in here,” Taehyung answers.
“What do you mean ‘here’?” Jimin mutters, feeling his body grow hotter by the second.
“Jimin, don't be obtuse,” Taehyung hums, a humorous edge to his tone.
Jimin sighs and gets up quietly and steps out of the side compartment and moves before the center chamber and sure enough, there is Taehyung, leaning an elbow on the ledge ear close to the latticed opening to the side where Jimin was mere seconds earlier. Jimin swallows, in the warm dim glow of the bulb Taehyung looked even more attractive than he remembered - and he only saw Taehyung the other night, not much really changed since.
He sits there so casually, like he belongs but also like he couldn’t care less. Jimin hates him for it, but envies it even more so. The way Taehyung holds himself, Jimin hopes to achieve even a fraction of that kind of confidence in his life.
“What now?” Jimin says, the words coming out high pitched. He’s nervous, and knows that Taehyung can see him, caught at one of his most vulnerable moments.
“You stand before me, cowering, why is that, Jimin?” Taehyung asks as he sits up straighter, tilting his head in curiosity.
“You make me nervous, Taehyung,” Jimin answers honestly, watching as Taehyung stands up. “What are you doing?”
“I told you to come here ,” Taehyung remarks, tipping his head down to indicate the small space before him.
“Is there even enough space?” Jimin asks, stepping forward and opening the gate, pausing again.
“It might be a little tight, but I’m sure we’ll fit,” Taehyung hums.
“Will you still be going to confession if it’s your lips I kiss?” Taehyung asks once Jimin’s settled between the narrow walls, eyes raking over Jimin’s face. “Clearly what you saw all that time ago still plagues that beautiful head of yours.”
“I do not come here because of the kissing , I come here because of how it makes me feel, how my body reacts and how time and time again I cannot control my impulses,” Jimin hisses.
“Jimin, you are only human,” Taehyung sighs, eyes darkening as he speaks. Jimin’s not sure how to read him anymore. In fact, he’s not sure he’s ever been able to read him.
“Yes, but I am devoted to this life,” Jimin says through gritted teeth. “There are things that I can’t … shouldn’t be doing.”
“Are you so sure of that?” Taehyung says, moving closer, minimizing the already small space between them.
“I made a vow,” Jimin mutters. He stares upwards at Taehyung with wide eyes that are lightly brimmed with tears, the internal struggle he feels slipping out, knowing that Taehyung sees through all of Jimin’s words, sees through the facade that Jimin tries his best to build up and keep built.
“People break vows everyday,” Taehyung hums, moving his hand up to run it along Jimin’s jaw. And so the walls begin to crack.
“Taehyung, we cannot!” Jimin hisses as Taehyung crowds his space further.
“You can tell me when to stop,” Taehyung exhales, their faces close, breaths mixing at their near proximity. He traces the soft contours of Jimin’s face with the back of his fingers, the movement slow, the touch delicate. Jimin’s breath quivers beneath the touch. Taehyung’s eyes drop to Jimin’s lips, pink, plump, glistening lightly even in the dim light that the bulb offers.
“Stop me, if you must, but know that I’ve desired you since the moment I lay my eyes on you,” Taehyung mutters as he hooks one of his fingers beneath Jimin’s chin, angling his head upwards. “Know that I will keep desiring you long after this.”
But Jimin says nothing and he doesn’t need any more words, anymore actions, or suggestions and after a sharp inhale, he closes the distance between them, lips slotting together with ease of magnets of opposite poles.
The walls crumble.
“Jimin,” Taehyung mutters, a hint of surprise in his tone when Jimin pulls away. His eyes are wide, startled. Jimin doesn’t read into it. He doesn’t want to read Taehyung anymore. He doesn’t want to understand him beyond what is before him.
Jimin shushes him before kissing him again, this time harder, deeper, a hand around Taehyung’s waist to keep him close. This time, Jimin feels his shoulders relax, finally, the weight that sat there for so long, dissipated.
That night, Jimin dreams of Taehyung. Dreams of Taehyung leaving kisses all over his skin, his unconscious body erupting into goosebumps as if the hot breath that follows Taehyung’s movement was real and not a figment of his imagination.
JOURNAL ENTRY 12
I must leave. The thoughts I have … the feelings … they are too much. I must put distance between myself and Taehyung. Especially now. Especially after … that kiss.
It changed everything but I don’t know if it's for the better or worse.
— — —
Stepping out of the dining hall, Jimin watches as Taehyung turns in the direction of one of the hidden away chapels. Making sure he doesn’t draw any attention, he follows in the others footsteps.
The door’s left open, almost like Taehyung knew Jimin’s likely to follow, Jimin imagines that Taehyung did it deliberately.
He steps in quietly and carefully closes the door behind him, making sure he makes as little noise as possible.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Jimin says as he walks up to Taehyung.
“Sometimes I come in here to think,” Taehyung says quietly as he moves his fingers over the flames of the candles. From where he stands, Jimin can see the flames lick his digits as he moves but Taehyung doesn’t flinch. Jimin lets himself imagine it is him kissing Taehyung’s fingers and not the flames.
“Think about what?” Jimin asks.
Wordlessly, Taehyung lifts up a candle from the stand that surrounds a statue of Mary. The fire flickers at the movement but the candle itself stays ablaze.
“As negative as my feelings are for a lot of this, I do find the church to be a peaceful building. Something about the eerie silence, whistling wind if the building is old enough, sets my mind at ease,” Taehyung admits, beginning to angle the candle he holds. “It’s nice to go into a place where you can just be, even if only for a short amount of time.”
“Taehyung!” Jimin gasps as he sees the hot wax drip along the inside of Taehyung’s arm, just shy of the veins.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Taehyung says quietly. “Not really.”
Jimin eyes him curiously. “But you winced.”
“It’s just a little startling initially, then it can feel quite pleasant,” Taehyung smiles as he watches the pale wax harden. “Do you want to try it?” he asks quietly, eyes darting up from the flame up to look into Jimin’s.
Hesitantly, Jimin nods and steps closer, pulling his sleeve up.
Slowly, Taehyung moves the candle so it’s only a few centimeters above Jimin’s wrist, needing it to be liquid for as long as possible as it drops.
Jimin hisses as the translucent white wax hits him, more at the suddenness and the weight of it, he thought it would have been lighter.
Taehyung continues pouring for as long as the candle allows, which to Jimin’s disappointment isn’t very long. He turns his hand around, watching as the wax moves slowly, hardening the longer it sits on his skin.
“How does it feel?” Taehyung whispers, almost like he’s scared of speaking any louder.
“Warm … but not painful. It’s … pleasant,” Jimin says, watching as the wax hardens over his skin, entranced.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes,” Jimin answers without giving it a second thought, eyes still locked on his hand, the wax wrapped around his wrist like a snake coiled around a branch.
Jimin feels as his heartbeat quickens as Taehyung tips the candle so that wax starts dripping down slowly onto the pads of Jimin’s fingers.
Taehyung looks at him in slight horror, concern, but also awe. He watches as Jimin stares intently at the milky white wax, not moving a muscle, unflinching, eyes glowing with something akin to pleasure. There, in the dim church, surrounded by the light of dozens of burning candles, Taehyung watches as Jimin takes pleasure in the pain, and perhaps for the first time, Taehyung is afraid of Jimin, afraid of what's gotten into him, but simultaneously very intrigued.
“Do you like the pain?” Taehyung asks, voice hesitant, the question holding many implications.
Jimin’s head snaps up to look at Taehyung, almost like he’s pulled out of a trance. With his wax-less hand he makes quick work of peeling the hardened wax from his non-dominant hand, remnants falling onto the carpet of the chapel steps. “I have to go,” Jimin says in a hurried tone and scurries out, leaving Taehyung’s question unanswered.
JOURNAL ENTRY 13
I watched as Taehyung poured wax on himself, his eyes sparkled as he did it. It trickled down his palm and then down his arm until it hardened. He looked so entranced as he did it. Then, he poured it on me and I’ve never felt more alive than in those moments as the wax slipped down my skin and hardened, a glossy path trailing down my arm, the heat of it so pleasant … I wonder how it would feel across larger parts of my body.
As Jimin slips into the land of dreams, his mind supplies him visions of him kneeling, whether it’s on a bed or in a room, Jimin can’t tell, and doesn’t know. He sees an unknown being run a flame beneath a stick of red wax until it starts dripping, the large beads landing on the skin of Jimin’s back. The Jimin in the dream doesn’t wince, instead, he seems to sigh in relief, as if something was released at this infliction of pain.
When Jimin wakes, he’s covered in a film of sweat, hair glued to his temples, eyes wide and yearning.