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The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Jimin walked into the gallery in a white shirt and light blue denim jeans, paired with white sneakers. Rosenow had commented on his choice of attire when he was leaving the house, saying he looked much younger. He had only smiled without commenting and picked up his boy and his backpack to drive him to the daycare.

He didn't feel young. If anything, he felt like a sieve from inside, torn, emotions leaking everywhere.

He had called the hospital and informed them that he would be away for an indefinite period, but was accessible by phone. His decision to spend his time at the gallery made him question himself about his intentions, but he couldn't figure out the answer.

On the one hand, he wanted to respect Jungkook's wishes and not force him, but on the other hand, he just had the feeling that he needed to have more perseverance. He had to convince Jungkook to communicate and put an end to the bad blood between them once and for all.

Did he think it was easy? Fuck no. But he was willing to put everything he had to test. One thing was clear to him from the moment Jungkook was gone from his life — the boy held importance.

Had he been just any junior, Jimin wouldn't have driven himself mad trying to find him, investing more time and money than was rational. He wouldn't have taken the punishment silently that Taehyung doled out for years, and convinced himself that he somehow deserved it because deep down he believed that Jungkook disappeared because of him. He wouldn't have let his mental state meddle with his marriage for years if Jungkook were just some boy.

On the flip side, his decision to pursue Jungkook for forgiveness had pleasantly compelled him to stop the practice at the hospital once and for all. He was finally able to put his guilt at rest and trust in his medical staff at the forefront of his thoughts.

Jungkook's single tear had commenced something inside him that was beginning to burn, like a stone pelted at an inactive volcano. He could sense that it was going to boil over, and explosions would be catastrophic. Not only for him, but for everyone who was linked to him.

He would've brought Iseul to the gallery, but he had to be sensitive about Jungkook's emotions. His marriage had triggered the disappearance. He didn't know what his son would do to Jungkook.

As he stepped in, Kijoo jumped down from the counter, which wasn't meant for sitting. "Jimin-ssi..." Her tone was full of horror. "Good morning."

"Morning, Kijoo. Mingyu isn't going to be here in the foreseeable future," he put down the laptop bag at the reception desk. "Is Jungkook here already?"

"Yeah," she nodded, gripping her phone hard. "Can I put your bag in the office?"

"No," He flashed her an easy smile. "Just go by your day like I am not here. Don't feel burdened. I'll be holed up in my office."

The girl shyly smiled and let Jimin walk upstairs.

What Jimin found was Jungkook hunched over an upside-down canvas, his wrists gently swiping the color in an inverted S shape repeatedly. Not wanting to break his rhythm, he stopped a few meters behind Jungkook and watched.

Stroke by stroke, the image became visible. A woman, much like what he had drawn in his first painting, was standing alone in a grand hall, looking at another woman who was looking out the window. The other woman's face was not visible, but her silhouette conveyed her femininity.

Jimin could perceive that Jungkook was trying to ascertain isolation in the piece. The pain and the longing in her eyes viscerally attacked Jimin's heart, reminding him of Jungkook from the past.

He'd known Jungkook was good at drawing. Not good. At the time he had received a portrait from Jungkook, he'd thought that the boy was exceptionally good, but what he could do now with those brushes was magic. There was no other word in his lexicon to define it.

What mystery led Jungkook from being a great artist to a legendary one?

Jungkook's paintings had their USP. The first was that there were colors always spilling out of the edges if looked closely, and the slight imperfection always gave the most natural and human touch to them. The second was the expressions in his subjects' eyes.

In the 'newborn teenager,' Jimin couldn't help but admire how the young woman's eyes were so pure, like a protected angel seeing the world for the first time. He couldn't stop himself from preserving it by buying it. He didn't want anyone who couldn't appreciate it enough to own it.

The thought pulled him out of his reverie. That was the reason why he was there. As he cleared his throat, Jungkook straightened but didn't turn to look. Jimin headed to his office door and unlocked it with a small key.

When he entered, the suffocating smell of humidity caused him to cough. Jimin opened all the windows, letting the fresh air in, before walking to his desk to see that it needed a bit of dusting.

Folding his sleeves up, Jimin walked out. "Good morning, Jungkook."

"Morning," Jungkook spoke suspiciously, watching the man already pacing up to the storage room.

Jungkook stood still as Jimin returned with a dusting cloth and some sort of bottle and began to spray it. The artist then realized it had been a cleaner. Why was Jimin cleaning his office? In the few months of working there, he never once saw him using his office. Why now?

It wasn't as easy for him to get back to work as it was for Jimin, who cleaned the remainder of his office after he was done with his desk.

Hearing the vacuum cleaner, Kijoo climbed up and gestured in a puzzling manner at Jungkook. The man shrugged. How the hell did he know what Jimin was up to?

After a while, Jimin walked out, his hair slightly out of place. "I am sorry for the disturbance. I'll just leave the office open from today so the cleaner can clean it."

Jungkook frowned, not sure if he wanted to respond.

Jimin swallowed the guilt that always threatened to pull him under the surface every time he saw Jungkook and smiled at him. They couldn't both be vulnerable, and he had to act strong. He stepped closer to the canvas, hands perched on his hips as his shoes created a sound on the wooden floor. "If you have some time, I need to talk to you for a moment."

"It's about work," he added quickly before Jungkook could think otherwise.

**

Jungkook knocked on Jimin's door lightly after twenty minutes. He couldn't focus on work after the brief encounter with Jimin anyway, so he decided to get the conversation over with.

"Come in."

He spotted two paintings like those of numerous others in the gallery on the walls as he stepped in warily. "Please take a seat." Jimin offered.

Jungkook sat down, his heart running at a certain speed, which made him a little dizzy. Unsure how to look at Jimin without feeling like he was falling for him every second of the day, he kept his gaze on the table.

"So... I know someone on the neurodiverse spectrum, and his father is someone close to me. The person is into art, but lately he has been acting up and is basically on a block. I wanted to recommend him to have a mentor meet with my gallery artist." Jungkook's head snapped in surprise, and his gaze lowered seconds after his eyes met Jimin's. "But..." Jimin said carefully. "I needed to check with you first. Do you think that is something you'd be interested in?"

"Is he autistic?"

Jimin nodded.

"He must be young. I don't know how talented he is, but I don't think I am good enough to be mentoring young minds, especially the brilliant ones, which I already guess his is."

"What are you talking about?" Jimin felt this compulsive need to make Jungkook see himself. If he could lend his own eyes to Jungkook, he would, to prove the point. "Just because you made your best work the first time doesn't mean you didn't put your all into it."

When Jungkook didn't move an inch and kept staring at the table, he sighed. "I know I should've discussed with you about your painting before claiming it, Jungkook. But trust me, I appreciate it like I believe no one else can."

Jungkook looked away to his side, not saying anything as his face heated.

"The food definitely reached the needy. Rest assured."

His words thundered inside his head, and deep down, he regretted them. It was, after all, Jimin who had understood the gist of what he'd portrayed. He'd named the painting based on Jimin's words of praise, which negated the point of blaming him for gatekeeping his art. But he supposed that he wanted to blame him for something, if not the obvious reason, which, in practicality, would also be irrational. There was not a single thing for which he could fault Jimin, either past or present, and he knew it.

Softening his tone, he let out a sigh of defeat. "I am too broken... And I guess the shards cut everyone who tries to come near me." Jimin couldn't hide his surprise from his expression on hearing the words laced with rawness. His hands itched to reach over and hold Jungkook, even if to deliver a few minutes of reprieve.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I am sorry." Jungkook looked up and downright felt resentment for Jimin when he saw his eyes and found them filled with despondency. Why did Jimin have to care? If only the man turned a blind eye to him and was cruel. It would be so much better for Jungkook to paint him in a negative light and lessen some of his own pain.

"You didn't hurt me. Don't apologize, Jungkook," Jimin dismissed with a smile, his fingers looping together as he sat on the edge of his seat. "Think about what I said. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't believe in your greatness."

Jungkook didn't know if he believed in himself. It wasn't like he was a trained artist. Some talents were hereditary. His great-grandfathers had been amazing artists. His father was an elegant painter.

When he was three years old, his grandmother started telling him that he drew flowers prettier than any other kid of the same age would. Jungkook didn't believe her as he grew up, being schooled at home and never seeing other kids' work. He hadn't quite realized his own talents in many aspects. He only knew that he was capable of putting his emotions and thoughts onto paper. He was also aware that he could draw a face without any reference picture if he knew it well enough.

In his life, he had drawn mostly his family, his childhood dog, and Jimin. He never tried to draw anyone outside of this pious circle, and perhaps that was why he underestimated himself. Even after getting the job, he felt for a long time that he didn't belong in a professional setting of art, having never studied it, but he loved drawing and painting. After getting his first salary, though that doubt had gotten away from his mind, new insecurities crept in. Seeing Jimin not only think of him as someone talented enough, but also believe in him, soothed some of his wounds in a way he never could've anticipated, and that brought about an almost smile to his face. "Do you really think I could help him?"

Jimin's lips tipped up in a genuine show of elation. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't believe in you."

"Okay," he nodded. "If it helps him, I'll do anything I can."

"Perfect! I'll arrange for you to visit him next week."

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9 Sep, 2025