jimin was lost in his thoughts. the weight of his bible in his lap felt heavier than usual and it left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. he felt eyes burning holes into the back of his head, as if everyone was looking at him and his perfect family sitting in the front row of the pews. 

his father was preaching and to be completely honest, he wasn’t paying any attention. normally he would at least make an effort to try but his thoughts were way too crazy this morning. 

the parks’ were the perfect family. a father who was a priest at one of the most well known churches in the city. a mother who was a conservative, stay at home housewife, but also helped at her husband’s church in anyway possible. an older brother who excelled in all of his studies, following in his father’s footsteps by attending a religious university. 

everything was perfect.

except for him. 

jimin couldn’t have felt more of an outcast than what he did with his family. he felt like an adopted foreigner. he felt like he didn’t belong at all. everyday was a challenge to simply live with his own family. and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

“-amen!” he heard his father yell. all of the congregation chanted amen after him. jimin’s train of thought was broken. the service was over. but now came the part he hated the most. 

like a robot, jimin followed his father and the rest of his family down the aisle between the pews all the way down to the doors that lead to outside the church. it was tradition that the priest and his family all shook the hands of the people who attended church every before they left. jimin hated this because he was shaking hands of people who looked up to him and his family. his family were models for every member of this church. jimin put on a fake smile as every person shook his hand, young and old. 

“you’re getting bigger everyday!” 

“you’re not so little anymore jimin!” 

“when are you going to college?” 

“i bet your parents are so proud of you.” 

“you are so lucky to have the father you do.” 

it all made jimin’s stomach churn. he couldn’t wait to get out. 

jimin hated sundays. 

once they were done in church, his family always always always had a reflecting hour where they would sit around the table and talk about what they thought was interesting about the service and how they could apply what was taught to their everyday lives. this was especially hard for jimin because most of the time he didn’t pay attention to the service. he was always in his own thoughts. jimin would make it by barely by glancing over at his mother’s notes and come up with some bull response. 

after the hour drug on, the next couple hours weren’t any less painful. they were not allowed to listen to any music on sundays, nor watch any tv, no electronics were allowed, and certainly no friends. his father ran a strict household during the week but compared to sunday, it was nothing. what they were allowed to do was talk to one another, study their religion, or read. 

jimin hated sundays. 

his big brother, seokjin, would always choose to read. usually textbooks related to their religion somehow. jimin loved seokjin. since their childhood, they grew up telling each other everything but as they got older, they grew apart. seokjin was a junior in college, whereas jimin was still just a junior in high school. he began to grow up in the image of his father much quicker than jimin, which caused him to be the favorite of the household. jimin had never felt more separated from his brother than the last few years. 

when dinner time would arrive, every family member was expected to help with the meal and the preparations. one good thing about sundays is that the meals where ten times better than weekday meals. his mother would always go all out.  jimin has picked up good cooking skills from his mother throughout the years. he had always favored her a bit more than his father. 

her personality was much less stern and more happy go lucky. she smiled nearly all the time. jimin got most of his traits from her, including features. they shared the same smile and same small hands. although jimin hated sundays, he often looked forward to cooking with his mother. no matter how much his father repeated, “cooking is a feminine chore,” his mother would always stick up for him explaining that there was nothing wrong with a man learning how to cook. jimin always smiled to himself when she’d tell him that. 

they would all share the meal at the dinning room table. usually not much talking was exchanged but causal conversation occurred. after the meal, everyone was required to help clean up the kitchen and dining room.  

after a long, mentally exhausting sunday, jimin would usually take a shower and be the first one to go to bed. but he’d often lay there for awhile contemplating the day and he’d usually end up crying himself to sleep. 

his family was perfect. he had nothing to complain or be uncomfortable about. it was him that was the problem. he wanted so badly to fit in with them every single day. he wanted to take after seokjin, be happy and carefree like his mother, and follow their religion so fearlessly like his dad. but he just couldn’t. he couldn’t do it. 

but that’s the thing. he could if he really wanted to. he could. he could if he wasn’t gay.