l i e ;
Spreading Our Wingsl i e ;
He wished he could escape.
That night, a solitary man lay on his haven of a bed. There were no sounds except for Hoseok’s steady breathing (for once, he didn’t snore!) and Taehyung’s incessant mumbling. The latter was, as usual, positioned very dangerously on the edge of the bed, looking as if he was going to fall and hit head-smack on the ground (well, even if Taehyung didn’t, the man definitely thought he, himself, would).
In contrast to the silence, the man’s thoughts were a pandemonium. After all, night was the best time to muse over 'important' matters (such as the unexpected events in his life), far away from the pressure of the public.
What will I eat tomorrow? Well, his group, BTS, had been doing pretty well then, so perhaps their manager would be kind enough to treat them to something. Mmm, something like meat and kimchi stew would be amazing delicacies... The man swallowed the saliva that accumulated from the appetizing imagery that formed in his mind. It wouldn’t do him good to drool all over his bed and face. He shrugged off the temptation. Next question.
What will I do tomorrow? A useless question, really, when he already had a routine scheduled for him. Training, fan meetings, performances and variety shows... The next day, the day after the next and the day following that will be the exact copy-paste of the previous twenty or so hours. If he was lucky, he could maybe catch up on one or two hours of sleep. He surely needed them. Not that he minded such a life anyway; if anything, that routine was what defined his whole entity (which had long been undecipherable by himself). This isn't getting anywhere... Next question.
What will I see tomorrow? He imagined a crowd of ARMYs wave their bomb-shaped lightsticks in perfect unison. Their fanchants and cheers of encouragement resounded in the secluded room that only held the bombs, BTS, and their bombers, ARMYs.
Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Jung Hoseok! Park Jimin! Kim Taehyung! Jeon Jungkook! BTS!
Their echoing roared. It was what set off Jimin to carry out a spiralling kick explosive enough to ignite more cheers from the bombers. The kick caused BTS' enemies (more like backup dancers) to spin and collapse on the ground. After the victorious ending, the ARMYs' shrieks were loud to the point of deafening, but it was those exact shrieks that shaped a proud grin on Jimin's face. His panting was synchronised with the audience's bellowing. His whole body was still tingling with excitement. Although his muscles ached, he didn't want the performance to end just yet.
There are so many people supporting and watching us... Isn't it a bit of a waste to end it just like that? I still want all of them to see more of my cooler side...
After every ending of a performance, he would always have feelings like that. He knew that fun concluded all the time, but still, he kept craving for more and more time so that he could show his best side to the ARMYs. To him, ARMYs were the spark that ignited him. Even when he was down in the dumps, falling into the abyss of self-depreciation thanks to hate comments that continuously plagued him, they would be the ones to perk his spirits up.
Hate comments...
He recalled the ugly words that some threw at him after his debut, most which were about his appearance.
'Why is that guy with the cap so fat?' 'Ah, so ugly~~' 'Wow, the guy with the cap is really... short.'
His illusion shattered. When his eyes lay upon the ceiling, a heightened sense of insecurity invaded him.
What will I be tomorrow?
That forbidden thought somehow managed to roam out into his consciousness, in the midst of the crowd of distractors he had already set up within the arena. He didn’t want to think about that thing that constantly loitered like a pesky dustball. Brooding about it would just make him doubt and fear himself, and the more he questioned, the more he was lost in that twisted maze.
Nevertheless, it marked him as its prey and caught up to him everytime, no matter how hard he tried to run away.
I will be Park Jimin, of course.
Duh. He is and was always Park Jimin. That name rooted in his every action, every word and every feeling… Was it a name that displayed breathtaking beauty, or distasteful taint? He recalled his image in front of his fans—the charismatic performer on stage who would transform to a cute beagle offstage, flashing his signature eyesmile and brightening the atmosphere instantly. Every part of it painted vibrant colours in the name Park Jimin. That being said, it only revealed glimpses to the beauty in him, but rarely to the carelessly hidden ugliness. Surely, all humans preferred to admire a picture of perfection, rather than a picture embodied with taint.
And he was right. The moment those people caught notice of his ugliness, they struck him down with spears.
He wished to escape.
But hiding was so very hard. So very painful. And even though he so very wanted to budge free from the dustballs that were engulfing him, he couldn’t—because more than the pain, he feared to come in terms with his own ugliness. So he remained trapped in this vicious cycle, where both options of escaping and staying tortured his cowardly players.
Finally, the abyss of doubts and worries swallowed him whole. As he fell into deep slumber, he also fell into that hole. Only three hours of sleep left, before he woke up to look at the ugliness of his own self.
The next day, he rose with bleary eyes and disheveled hair.
Awake. Was he, or was he not?
The sky outside was totally pitch-black; there wasn’t even a single trace of light from the stars. It wasn’t even dawn yet. Did he only sleep for two hours, at most?
Hoseok and Taehyung were still in their beds. Every minute of rest was important when you were an idol, because it would be all the break that you had for the next twenty or so hours. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you would get a few minutes of break in between schedules, but those were few and far between. Jimin knew he should go back to sleep (his body was screaming so). The racket in his mind, however, could not be ceased. His head somehow led him out of his bed to the front of that large mirror near the cupboard that reflected, very creepily, copy-pastes of the scenery ahead it.
It wasn’t a magic mirror like the one in Snow White (which was probably both a merit and demerit on its own, since the truth, while practical, could hurt fragile hearts) but it did help the boys with grooming their appearance to perfection, which was pretty necessary considering their profession.
Jimin stared at his own reflection. He looked like a panda which had jumped into a pigsty a while ago—in other words, a total mess. Funny how his reflection reflected the state of his mind.
He gingerly raised his hand to reach the mirror. Of course, the mirror reflected his action. He foolishly stretched out his hand, wanting so badly to reach the person in front of him, yet all he could feel beneath his fingertips was the cold, hard surface of the mirror.
The mirror was not magic, but as with all other normal mirrors, it sure had a way of revealing the hardest truths about oneself. The more he stared at himself, the more his fighters strode into the arena, engaging in banters of confidence. Park Jimin had many insecurities, but none of them could haunt him as much as that one thing did.
Appearance.
Jimin continued to stare at his own reflection. Scrutinising, judging, evaluating. Just like what the public always did.
He looked… lack of a better word, ugly. Just like what those people normally said. He didn’t have big eyes, and he had duck lips, and he was fat. If we’re talking about idol standards or even just comparison with his teammates, he certainly thought he was the least good-looking among them.
At the past, when he was still a bubbly young child, this kind of issues never seemed to cross his mind even once. But the more he grew, the more he was aware that society was watching. Pursuing his dream to be an idol added fuel to the fire, what with a hundred, a thousand, a million eyes watching him wherever he went. Hate comments were like curveballs which were so very hard to dodge, and Jimin always seemed to hit right smack on those curveballs. Subconsciously or unconsciously, the dustballs infiltrated his mind. He believed he had seemed unsightly to the public. Of course, there were fans who supported him, whom he was extremely grateful for, but there were those people who must have mocked at his hideous appearance.
Those people. They were like predators, and he was the prey for them to feast on. It was not an unexpected situation, considering that being an idol required both physical and also mental stamina, but still knowing meant nothing. Knowing didn’t help to subside the ache in Jimin’s head.
All of a sudden, his head really did ache, terribly and horribly. He crouched instinctively and clutched his head with trembling hands. Even the distractors he carefully set could not save him from the dangerous maze. The pain was poison which spread all over his body and into his blood, destroying all the surviving players in his head. His groans were muffled, for he didn’t want to wake up Taehyung and Hoseok and let them discover him in such a shabby state.
So fragile. So… pathetic.
A voice, in the realms of his consciousness, was taunting him. He loathed it—loathed his fragile self who could only whimper like a child. Whimpering changed nothing, he knew. But that didn’t make him want to stop whimpering any further.
What are you going to do, Jimin-ah? Sit down and let them devour you up? You aren’t as weak as that. You’ve got to be stronger… You’ve got to be better than this.
He didn’t want to whimper anymore. He wasn’t weak; he’d like to believe in that. He was prepared the moment he embarked on that journey.
Eventually, after who-knew-how-long, his headache ceased. And Jimin, with blurred sight and hair that was messier than before, stood up with steady legs.
If only gathering strength was such a simple task.
Thanks to his lack of sleep and a line of packed schedules the next twenty or so hours, he sprawled across his bed by the time the busy day had ended. Needless to say, all the fighters in him had collapsed, and his mood had plummeted a whole deal.
That being said, he did want to cheer himself up. Being busy was a way to filter all the negativity out, wasn’t it? Unfortunately for him, he attended variety shows and CFs all day long, so he didn’t even get the chance to perform (which was one of the only activities that boosted his confidence). And having the camera capture your every action and behaviour as well as professional photographers inspect your pose and form wasn’t really ideal in lightening up his spirits. Even when the emcees of the variety shows attempted to crack jokes, Jimin couldn’t quite laugh. Every action of his felt out-of-place; every muscle of his felt like it was frozen into place; even just trying to budge a smile was stiflingly awkward. His mouth stayed shut most of the time, and only opened when absolutely necessary.
Even though the past hours had been so very busy and mentally draining, he couldn’t sleep when he actually lay on his comfortable bed. The dustballs weren’t so violent anymore, but they still lingered around, as if forbidding him to take a break. And after an hour of staring at the ceiling above, he eventually fell asleep.
He continued to sleepwalk for the next few days, weeks and months. The other members seemed concerned, but even if they were they didn’t show it, not explicitly at least. They went out to eat meat once, and Yoongi and Seokjin gave him a lot of meat discreetly, which meant something. Jimin graciously accepted it (because he needed to replenish all the energy he couldn’t recover from the low quality sleep), yet when Jungkook probed him about his condition (to the surprise of Jimin, since Jungkook was the mean maknae in BTS), he could only keep mum. He didn’t want to drag the other members in his own problems; besides, it was something only he could overcome himself.
Strangely enough, he felt rejuvenated whenever there were performances. Perhaps performing, his greatest love, relieved him from those troublesome worries that he had. Even though he was a hollow case elsewhere, he was miraculously energetic on stage, and only when he was on stage could he flash that signature eyesmile that screamed ‘Park Jimin’ again. That momentum light in the maze engulfed in darkness soon diminished, however, when he stepped off the stage.
Jimin knew he couldn’t continue that way. He couldn’t let any of the predators latch onto his weakness and bite onto him. But he no longer had the strength to fight back, nor did he have the strength to reach out to others. So the predators continued to punish Park Jimin, for being too weak to handle his struggles alone and for being too weak to ask for help.
But help eventually arrived. Somehow, in a way or another.
October 13, 1995. It was a date which ARMYs, BTS fans, and the BTS members themselves knew all so well. Before the big day itself, when Jimin had retreated into his haven, the BTS members were having a secret meeting.
“Y’know, I have a feeling something’s wrong with Jimin lately. He has been daydreaming a lot more and staring at the mirror… Whenever I try to pester him, he doesn’t even react,” Taehyung voiced out his concerns first. To his surprise, none of the BTS members seemed shocked.
“What? Really, do you guys know already?”
Jungkook replied with a hint of sass, “Unlike someone, we’re not so dense.”
Both Hoseok and Jungkook sniggered at the certain ‘someone’, while Yoongi, Namjoon and Seokjin shook their heads at the usual sight. Although he would normally have a rebuttal to that, Taehyung just shrugged it off as normal Jungkook behaviour (and normalcy was greatly appreciated after Jimin’s abnormality).
“He doesn’t seem to have much appetite too, not even when we’ve meat and fruits. And he’s lost a lot of weight in these past few months…” commented Seokjin with a frown. His eyebrows were scrunched, in a way that was like a typical worried Mama Jin. And maybe that would trigger another burst of laughter, if only the six members weren’t so concerned for their missing teammate.
Yoongi pointed out, “He may seem abnormal, but he’s still Jimin. Albeit a very depressed one.”
The other members nodded in unison after some contemplation over Yoongi’s words. At first glance, many would think that Yoongi was the emotionless guy in the group, but in actuality, he really was the sharpest out of them all. Indeed, it was true that Park Jimin, on normal and sunny days, was a ball of fluff, an enthusiastic dancer, and a scaredy cat who was often the members’ target to bully (especially for the Satan Maknae Jeon Jungkook). The other side of Park Jimin had never been gone unnoticed by the members, though—even to the fans (because, unlike what Jimin might have hoped, he wasn’t a good actor). Park Jimin was cute, but he forced a manly act. Park Jimin was sensitive, but he forced an unbothered act. And lastly, Park Jimin was self-conscious, but he forced a confident act. The young boy, Park Jimin, was a hesitant boy like many others, but still he tried to conceal his weaknesses up with a lie that was way too perfect to be true.
Happy Park Jimin was normal, indeed. But insecure Park Jimin was equally normal, as well.
Even if the members reached out to him, Park Jimin—who was caught in his own web of exemplary yet flawed lies—would never admit his true feelings. Such was the true character of Park Jimin.
Some realised that fact faster than others, maybe because they saw many of such traits reflected on them as well (of course, they didn’t want to admit or even think about that just yet). And soon enough, all the members knew that treating Jimin, as if he was a lost and soppy puppy, was not going to work out. If anything, it might fuel the insecurities inside him.
“Since it’s his birthday tomorrow, shall we take the chance to appreciate him?” Namjoon suggested.
The suggestion was immediately welcomed and accepted. So the boys worked together to create a picture for Jimin. A picture that would lead him out of the maze.
On October 13, when Jimin woke up with bleary eyes and disheveled hair, he realised Hoseok and Taehyung weren’t there.
Before he left the room, he caught a glimpse of himself at the mirror. After he left, the members were all in the living room with smirks on their faces (and very apparent eyebags, Jimin noticed). Jimin felt like he was going to be the clueless victim of a prank. Nevertheless, he didn’t think too much about it. He would let them prank him if they wanted to do it.
And boy, it sure was an unexpected (and delightful, Jimin had to admit) prank.
The BTS members set off to BigHit Entertainment. When they reached, their manager gave an excuse (claiming that he had to talk to Jimin about some ‘urgent matters’) so that he could drag Jimin into the training room, which would be the main venue of the celebration. On the other hand, the members prepared the birthday cake and the present they made with their sleep.
As the manager tried to drag time out, he was glancing at his phone time to time (and silently complaining to himself about how slow the Bangtan Turtles were). Jimin side-eyed the equally suspicious manager, but he was suffering the side effects of a dire lack of sleep, so thankfully the poorly woven plan hadn’t been exposed. When the manager finally received the cue to leave, he gratefully and thankfully escaped the room (he then claimed he had some ‘other urgent matters’ to attend to), leaving behind a sleepy and confused Park Jimin.
Before he even understood what was going on, the lights went off. He initially thought it was a blackout, but it was proven otherwise when the door opened and a bunch of huddled BTS members came in with a cake in their hands. The light of the candles glimmered in the darkness, bringing a familiar smile to Jimin’s face.
“Happy birthday to you…”
The BTS members sang in unison with honey-like vocals (which Jimin didn’t knew they had). Jimin swallowed the lump that had somehow formed in his throat while laughing crazily at the sight in front of him. It was funny, really, how he was only able to force out awkward chuckles for the past few months when he was somehow able to laugh freely that day.
They still remember. Of course they did. They always remembered. And the knowledge of them loving and believing in him (it wasn’t new, but people forgot what was closest to them way too easily) was enough to give him the energy to keep going.
The lights went on, and he caught sight of a Jimin poster which the members had also brought in. On it, the members had written their heartfelt messages.
“You’re so sweet you give me diabetes.” –Sweet sugar
That was ironic, Jimin wanted to reply, but then he remembered that Suga, also known as the cold-heartless-emotionless guy in BTS Min Yoongi, was nowhere near sweet in reality (Jimin had to begrudgingly admit that his message was, though). Therefore, he decided to accept the compliment (albeit a very strange one, at that).
“Park Jimin-sunbaenim, I love you!! Y u so perfect???” –From your biggest fan & hope, Hoseok
Hoseok was as childish as ever. His childishness gave Jimin hope to be childish as well.
“Happy birthday. You’ve gotten some jams from me.” –The one who has jams
Such an appreciative message… Jimin had to resist snickering (he was sure Namjoon was going to whip him if he didn’t). Getting Namjoon to approve of anyone having jams, especially Jimin, was a task more challenging than climbing Mount Everest.
“Park Jimin is so handsome and manly. He’s slaying my entire existence.“ –V
Taehyung could join the childish squad with Hoseok.
“BEST HYUNG AWARD GOES TO YOU, PARK JIMIN. I’m proud of you!!” –Cookie
And Jungkook could be the maknae of the childish squad. It would be the perfect BTS subunit. But Jimin couldn’t deny that the childish squad (as with the equally childish hyungs squad) boosted his deflated ego drastically.
“Thank you for coming to this world.” –Mama Jin
The poster ended with Seokjin’s message, the cheesiest of all the cheese. Jimin didn’t mind the cheese, though, despite the fact that it was a little too troubling for his eyelids. He didn’t want to break down in front of s after all, because crying was a sign of weakness, and no way was he going to display his fragility right there. At the same time, he was comforted by his teammates’ sincerity. It could almost be a panacea to all the turmoil he had been going through.
“Wow…” Jimin could only gasp and clap, for he was too embarrassed to do anything else. In contrast, the other members were totally shameless. They engulfed Jimin with a giant bear hug and shouted declarations of their love for him.
“Jimin, I love you!”
“You’re the best, Park Jimin!”
“Happy Jimin Day!”
Needless to say, Jimin was suffocated by six stinky and overenthusiastic guys, but he felt that he could finally breathe amidst the drowning waters for once. And maybe, just maybe, he thought it was okay to be shameless like s for once.
“Thanks, y’all. I love myself too.”
When he verbalised it out, the more the idea of self-love appeared true, and the more faith he could have in himself. He didn’t think it could be so easy to regain confidence, just from the flooding of encouragement from his teammates. He really was too much of a pleaser.
Then again, Park Jimin wasn’t Park Jimin if he wasn’t so concerned of other people. Both a merit and demerit in its own right.
In the midst of all that, Jimin realised a huge problem.
“Wait a minute, where am I going to put this poster anyway?”
“You can put it in our room and stare at your beautiful face all day!” Hoseok initiated brightly.
“You make me sound like a creepy narcissist.”
“Well, maybe you are.”
“Jung Hoseok!”
Thus, the daily bickering between the BTS members had begun with Jimin’s recovery. Jimin had finally found the way again. Awake, he was.
If he thought that the members’ little celebration was the end of it, Jimin was on another surprise. Jimin, who was always secretly monitoring the comments made towards BTS, was bombarded with well wishes by his fans on the Internet. There were even some who created birthday videos specially for him.
“Happy birthday Chimchim! Always stay happy ^^”
“Our Jiminie has grown <3 Thank you for always producing great music for us. Fighting Park Jimin!!”
"Don't ever doubt yourself for who you are, because you are a masterpiece who has brought about lots of happiness and meaning to us. Thank you for being here with us ^^"
He remembered once gazing upon hate comments through the small little screen, but reading all the supportive comments his fans left behind made him realise that the hatred was so insignificant compared to the immense love the people who supported him gave. They were people who cheered him on when he was performing, and people who worried for him as soon as they saw a trace of distress slide past his face. And they were people who cared for him, just because he was Park Jimin, and not anyone else.
He felt that there was a heavy burden against his shoulders, because truthfully, even though he was so grateful for all the love he was receiving, he wasn't sure he deserved it all. So many questions were pressing against him, and he was afraid he was going to fall into the abyss again. But the fighters in him woke up. He wasn't going to fall. He knew that all the people who were there meant something, that he meant something. The predators were there to nitpick over his face, his body, his every action, and push him to the edge. At the same time, there were people there to reach out their helping hands so that he could be rescued. So, even if it was hard, even if he feared, even if the voice inside him continuously taunted him, he had to wake up from the nightmare and accept his insecurities for being a part of him—for being a part of Park Jimin. He had to emerge out as a snake, rather than a prey, for him and for them.
With that lasting conclusion, he could finally shut his eyes in peace when he went to sleep.
And he smiled once again. Perhaps, even all that encouragement wasn't quite enough to relieve him from all of his doubts (because he knew those dustballs to be demons; they would never stop engulfing him unless a miracle happened, and miracles were impossible in reality). But, he would always keep fighting against them. Always. And maybe, just maybe, he could eventually untangle himself from the web of lies he had created.
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