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Between Jihyun’s old things, Jumin found a camera.
It was out of pure curiosity and boredom that he began looking. Han Jumin wasn’t often bored or curious, but this time was an exception. His friend had gone out, and curiosity struck him about what he had brought when he had come to live with him. He knew he shouldn’t as he wouldn’t like the same be done to him, but he entered Jihyun’s room and went through his stuff.
He had moved in three weeks ago. It was decided, with his physical recovery happening, that it was better for Jihyun to not be alone. He had to relearn how to function in the normal world again, after all. And it was true that living with Jumin it’s not like he would have frequent company, but he was his most trusted friend.
And there was the element of Jumin not wanting to lose him again, also. He wanted to keep his friend close, not stray away, if only to remind himself he’s there, he’s real, he’s safe. Sometimes he thought himself very stupid, because he’d truly do anything for Jihyun. Once he saw him again, after so long, he did not care. He didn’t care about the lies and the secrets and the stupid, reckless actions that drove him mad in his most vulnerable of moments when he saw him again.
He was alive. Jihyun was alive– hurt, but alive– which meant that eventually, he’d be okay. Jumin had wanted to hit him in the face when he said he wished that bullet had killed him. Even now, you’re foolish , he’d told him. Jihyun had smiled. And Jumin had hugged him, and sobbed into his shoulder, and promised himself to never let Jihyun abandon himself again the way he had all these years.
Jihyun was pleasant company and an all around good roommate. These past few weeks reminded Jumin of the years of their youth– the endless conversations, acknowledgement of fears, little touches that would incessantly, annoyingly roam through Jumin’s mind once Jihyun started hanging out with Rika.
These days, he and Jumin ate and drank wine, and they talked about everything. Jumin described how things looked to him, tested him to see if he was getting better, and was way too happy when finding out that he was. They talked about the RFA (which was likely soon to be renamed), about Yoosung, about Zen, about Saeyoung and Saeran, about Chaeyoung, about Jaehee. They did not talk about Rika. No one was allowed to talk about Rika, unless something related to her criminal proceedings.
And one afternoon, Jumin grew curious of what his friend decided to bring to this new life, and went through his things. Jihyun had really brought his full existence with him, heaps of books and photo albums and filled-up sketchbooks. He went through them. Most sketches he found were of plants and insects, some of people. His friend was a very fine artist.
He also found his camera. It was in its own case, protected by foam and velvet. The carrier had grown dusty but the machine itself was intact. Jumin sat back, took it out of the case, and carefully turned it around between his fingers.
Seeing it like this, he could understand a little bit more why his friend fell in love with the art. It was a very elegant machine, all gloss and round angles, felt cold and heavy and sturdy in his hands. He didn’t know what any of the buttons did or what the symbols meant, but he decided he would love for Jihyun to explain it to him. He’d always been so curious about his friend’s passions, after all.
So, he decided to ask him about it over dinner that night.
“I went through your things earlier today,” he began, looking for a tinge of disapproval.
Jihyun offered none, simply looking up at him with amusement, urging him to continue.
He did. “I found your camera,” he said.
“I see.” Jihyun seemed indifferent to it. He nonchalantly took another bite of his food.
“I suppose if you brought it, it’s because you’re looking to get back into it sometime.”
“...Actually, I was looking to sell it.”
The confession startled Jumin, making him drop his fork brashly. He blinked, outraged, shocked. “What?”
“I… don’t think I’ll be able to return to taking pictures,” he said in that calm way of his. “So I was looking into selling it. It’s a relatively new model, it will surely serve somebody.”
Jumin found himself not caring who would theoretically put the camera to good use. It wasn’t meant to be anyone else’s. It was Jihyun’s camera that he used to take his pictures. It was not meant to belong to anyone else.
“What are you saying, you can’t sell your camera,” Jumin said.
Jihyun put his cutlery down. “I’ll have no use for it anymore. It would be better for someone else to have it.”
“No. It’s your camera that you use for your work.”
“Jumin, I won’t do anymore photography,” Jihyun declared with finality, sharp, a little bit tragic.
Jumin shook his head. He was perhaps even more bitter about this. “Why…? I know it’s something that reminds you too much of Rika and your time with her, that it was special to your relationship but–”
“It’s not about her, Jumin.”
“But this is your vocation, You are a photographer. You have an unparalleled, unmatched sense of beauty that you capture majestically. Your talent would be a sore one to waste.”
“Thank you for appreciating my work. But sadly… I don’t think I’ll be able to go back.”
It dawned on him, and Jumin put his palms on the table. “Is this about your eyes?”
Jihyun nodded. Jumin felt his heart drop. “They will heal, but never fully. That’s why I won’t… why I don’t know if I’ll be able to take pictures again.”
“I lament this. Truly,” Jumin said. “I had hoped… I’ve always enjoyed your photographs. Always noticed how naturally such a thing came to you, how at peace you were while doing it. And I figured… perhaps it could help you, in these times.”
He couldn’t figure out what troubled emotions Jihyun was feeling, but they were coursing through his face, in his frown and the movement of his eyes. “You know… perhaps it might.”
Jumin’s eyes widened. “Yes…”
“I have missed taking photos,” he said. “And although it won’t be the same… I want to see what I’m capable of now.”
Jumin nodded. “Then, go on. Do not give yourself up.”
“I just don’t know… what exactly I could photograph.”
“You could photograph Elizabeth the Third,” Jumin said.
Jihyun laughed. “Of course you’d suggest your cat…”
“What’s the issue? She’s majestic and well-behaved. She’d be the perfect model.”
“She’d be quite good indeed… but I’ve never mastered working with animals. It’s hard to get them to stay still.”
“Well… then you could photograph me,” Jumin suggested. He felt his heart rate’s presence when he said it.
Jihyun regarded him with his glassy blue eyes for a second. Jumin felt himself somehow under a microscope, embarrassed yet pulled. “I like the idea.”
It was unlike Han Jumin to be nervous about a photoshoot. He was a man of high profile, used to such affairs. They were monthly occurrences for him, and something he knew he was good at. He was naturally handsome and comfortable for the cameras. He found the posing and pageantry ood, but never annoying.
But of course, this wouldn’t be like any of the shoots he’s had before, because this would be with Jihyun. None of the photographers he’d worked with knew him personally. Jihyun did, and better than anyone else. Jumin was sure whatever pictures were taken would reveal that, within Jihyun’s honest artistic vision.
Still, he couldn’t quite figure out what was making him close upon himself now, standing in his kitchen with his waistcoat off, preparing to simulate pouring himself a glass of wine. Jihyun wanted to capture scenes of Jumin in his domesticity, his day-to-day. The Jumin he knew. Jumin was on board with the idea, but selfishly he wished for no one else to see the pictures, once they were taken. It’s not that they were embarrassing, or inappropriate, but it was like… he wanted things to remain this way, with only Jihyun knowing him like this.
He was changing his hand around the wine bottle, toes pressing and unpressing on the floor, and Jihyun was setting the camera. He let out a chuckle when seeing Jumin.
“Simply relax,” he said. “Just pour yourself a glass of wine, like you would on a normal evening.”
Jumin sighed, wondering where on earth his composure had gone. He grabbed a glass of wine. Began to pour it. “Like this? You may begin taking the pictures now.”
But Jihyun didn’t. Instead, he left the camera on the counter, approached Jumin, and began massaging his shoulders. For a second, Jumin wanted to flinch, the action unexpected, but this was Jihyun, after all. He knew Jihyun’s hands, he trusted them, and felt himself instantly lean into his touch, a groan escaping his lips.
“Relax,” he said, his quiet but loud presence almost overwhelming. “It’s just me.”
“I think that’s the problem,” Jumin said.
That’s when Jihyun pulled back, but not fully. He met his eyes, glass meeting steel that now was more like mercury, and for a few moments, none dared speak. It was as if Jihyun was waiting, or Jumin was waiting, for the answer, for something to be said. He wanted Jumin to say it. Jumin didn’t know how to.
Few moments were the ones when Han Jumin was fully and completely speechless, and unable to think of what to say too. This was one of them.
Surprisingly (or not), many of those moments included Kim Jihyun.
Jihyun went back to his camera. “Just relax, and pour a glass of wine. In your mind, this is just another night, and you’re about to tell me about your day. Don’t mind the flashes,” he said.
That did it, somehow. All previous nervousness gone, Jumin, in the pure normalcy of his body’s movements, poured a glass of wine. And Jihyun flashed his camera five times, and he kept on pouring the wine.
He then had an idea. He faced Jihyun and drank the wine, still in his normalcy, as he would any normal day. Jihyun smiled a little smile, and flashed his camera.
Jumin began to think he could get used to this, and decided he’d make even more of an effort to not make his friend quit photography.