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No one listened when the managers explained why the afternoon schedules were canceled. They all just heard blah blah blah. It didn’t matter why. What mattered was sleep. Rest. Extra hours of sleep for Jimin’s aching, exhausted body. A tiny voice in his head whispered, “Don’t go home — go to the practice studio. You need to work on every routine. A lot of work.” His left knee was clicking and throbbing from a weird landing when he was practicing his aerial – the off-balance landing had tweaked an old kendo injury. If he practiced more today, his knee would just get worse and worse and end up too painful to perform on. Better to just rest it now and avoid further damage. He told the tiny voice to shut up, then followed the others into the vans. The tiny voice did not shut up, but he managed to ignore it.
He would ice his knee and sleep. He craved sleep so deeply he almost wept tears of joy at the thoughts of home and bed.
Ten minutes after they’d arrived at the dorm, Jin was gaming, Tae was snoring, and Hobi was face-down in starfish mode on his bed. He hadn’t even managed to crawl under the covers before he fell asleep with one sock on, one sock off. Jimin patted his hair softly, then pulled a blanket over him and turned on the fan because he knew Hobi liked the bedroom to be cool, even in winter.
Namjoon and Yoongi were still at the company, each in his studio working on music to feed the idol concept’s constant, insatiable hunger. The demand for new material was part of what they’d signed up for. Namjoon had recently started teasing Yoongi about having a cat door added to The Genius Lab. Not for a cat, but so Namjoon could push some snacks or coffee in during these long working sessions when Yoongi locked the door and put out a Do Not Disturb sign taken from a hotel.
But maybe for a cat – who can predict what the future will bring?
Jimin went to the kitchen and put ice into a baggie. He grabbed a towel to wrap around the ice bag, then limped back toward his and Hobi’s room. He felt his pulse hammering in his joint.
When he reached Jungkook’s door, he stopped and tapped on it lightly. If Jungkook was already sleeping, he didn’t want to wake him, but he couldn’t resist the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with his favorite dongsaeng before he surrendered himself to sleep.
There was no answer, so Jimin pressed his ear to the door. He heard Jungkook’s voice softly singing something in English . . . Maybe “Locked Out of Heaven”?
He must have his headphones on, Jimin thought. He turned the knob slowly, not wanting to startle Jungkook or walk in on . . . stuff. Jungkook was still in his “exploring his body” phase and was also painfully shy about it. He peeked into Jungkook’s room, just wanting to check in with him. Say hi, even though they’d already spent the whole day together. To Jimin, Jungkook was gravity. He didn’t know why.
Jimin peeked through the crack in the door and saw that Jungkook was sitting in his desk chair, wearing headphones and singing softly in front of his computer screen.
He was using his monitor as a mirror by way of the built-in camera, like watching himself on VLIVE. His phone was clamped into a small tripod that was set next to the monitor so he could easily look back and forth between its screen and the monitor. An array of cosmetics tumbled across Jungkook’s desk. A makeup tutorial played on the phone screen.
Jungkook saw the movement of the door behind him and looked into the image on the monitor to see Jimin’s face peeking into his room. Jungkook froze. Jimin froze. They both looked stunned and embarrassed. Jimin’s expression then changed to fondness and amusement, while Jungkook continued his deer in the headlights impersonation, his ears immediately pink.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Jungkook said, somewhere between a pout and a whine, looking like he was about to cry.
“Oh, baby, no, no,” Jimin said, still in the doorway. “It’s okay, I won’t. I wouldn’t. Can I come in?”
Jungkook looked like he was considering saying no. He pulled off his headphones.
Jimin added, “I think I can help. And it’s just us. I won’t tell anyone else.”
Jungkook looked back at his image in the monitor and frowned. He turned his head left and then right. The result was the same no matter the angle: not good. He paused the tutorial.
The tutorial must have been for an evening glam look, Jimin thought, given the results. A look for someone who was going to a gala or the opera, or even if you were in the opera. Or the phantom of an opera. It wasn’t what anyone would call “natural.”
Jungkook’s face was on the verge of having a Rocky Horror vibe. But not quite. But close. But cute. Always cute.
It looked to Jimin like he was trying to use contouring to make his beautiful, smooth, round cheeks look hollowed and defined, like he’d been looking at old fashion magazines from the “heroin chic” days. He’d done something to his nose with contour and highlighting too. His eyes were dark and smoky – each one looked pretty okay on its own, but they didn’t match at all. Asymmetrical, a bit Picasso-esque. He’d chosen a blush color with too much orange in it for his skin tone. His face had a bit of a patchwork quilt quality to it.
Jimin stood behind Jungkook, looking at him fondly through the monitor.
“Would you like some help or advice?” he asked, his tone soft. “The makeup noonas make it look so easy, but it takes a lot of practice.”
Jungkook had seen Jimin go out for a night of dancing, just once or twice since they so rarely had any time off. His makeup always looked perfect. Everything about him looked perfect.
He nodded, still looking apprehensive.
Jimin gave Jungkook’s shoulders a squeeze and said, “Let’s start over. Hang on a sec.”
He limped to his own room and grabbed a basket of products and a chair, then returned to Jungkook’s room.
He pulled his chair up next to Jungkook’s, put his foot up on Jungkook’s bed, and settled the ice bag on his knee.
“Jimin hyung, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a stupid landing on the aerial. A night off and some ice – I’ll be good as new.”
He continued, “We’re going to start with a cleanser – I’ve noticed that you use soap sometimes when you wash your face. It’s too harsh. Don’t use it – it’s like using dish detergent. Better to rinse with water if you don’t have the right cleanser.”
Jungkook nodded again, his eyes wide as he listened. Jimin talked through his whole routine, making sure Jungkook knew that what worked for Jimin wouldn’t necessarily be the best thing for Jungkook. He told him where he bought his products. “I’ll be happy to take you there sometime, Koo-ah. They know me, and they’re very helpful. They have male salespeople who specialize in skin care and cosmetics for men. It’s not weird.”
He also asked some questions about the tutorial Jungkook had been following. The YouTuber had done half of her face to show a before/after contrast effect. Jungkook had followed what she did twice, applying his products to first one eye until it was complete, then to the other. His limited facility with English coupled with the YouTuber’s tendency to talk at 200 mph in a New Jersey accent had made it hard to follow the specifics. Like most YouTubers, she talked endlessly about minutia and glossed over important steps in the process. Viewers knew exactly what she’d worn to her cousin’s wedding and how pregnant the cousin was, but not so much about how to create a perfect wing.
Jimin told him to always do both eyes in layers, together, to get the best symmetry. First do the base layer on eye #1, then repeat on eye #2. Then move on to the next darkest color, first one, then the other. Et cetera until you had (fabulous) symmetrical eyes.
As they talked, Jimin gently cleaned Jungkook’s face with makeup remover wipes – it took several. Then Jungkook went to the bathroom with cleanser, coming back with his face clean.
“Okay, sit again,” Jimin ordered. “Look at yourself in the monitor. Tell me what you see.”
Jungkook looked stricken again. “I don’t . . . I don’t want to, hyung. I don’t . . . I don’t look like the rest of you. Handsome.”
“Oh, Jungkookie, but you are handsome, so handsome. And so pretty. You have no idea.”
Jungkook looked dubious.
“Why would hundreds of girls scream your name if they didn’t think so?” Jimin asked with a grin. “Soon to be thousands, then millions, then billions, then aliens.”
“Men are handsome, not pretty.”
“Oh, well, that’s where you’re wrong. Have you ever looked at me and thought that I look pretty? Like when we’re all made up for a performance?”
Jungkook stayed silent and drew his eyebrows together. A hint of a pout appeared.
“Be honest,” Jimin said, insistent but gentle.
“Yes,” Jungkook mumbled.
“Well, I’m a man. You’ve seen me naked, so you know that’s true,” Jimin giggled.
“Aww, yuck!” said Jungkook, finally smiling, pretending (unconvincingly) to be grossed out. Yep, he knew Jimin was a man.
“Anyway, have you ever thought that Jin-hyung was pretty? Or Hobi-hyung?”
Jungkook nodded.
“Okay, so men can be pretty. And you are a man and you are pretty. I rest my case.”
Jungkook sighed and looked into the monitor again but remained silent.
Jimin continued. “I know what you’re seeing. You’re seeing where your skin has broken out.” Jungkook nodded, looking a little crushed. “And you’re seeing your nose.” He nodded again, eyes even brighter than usual.
“Did you read some online comments?” Another nod.
“Well,” Jimin said, “those people are idiots. You know they say terrible things about most of us, right? They think Jin-hyung is too old and is a bad dancer. They think RapMon-hyung is ugly and is also a bad dancer. They say mean things about Hobi-hyung, too – about all of us. Is any of that true?”
Jungkook shook his head vehemently. “Hell, no,” he answered. (He had just started experimenting with swearing. He liked how it felt. Powerful.)
“So why would you believe anything they say about you? Those people are just . . . There’s something wrong with them They were unloved as children. And as adults.”
“They say Taehyungie-hyung is handsome. And that’s true.”
“Pffft,” said Jimin. “They also say that I like you too much, which is clearly stupid. I like you the perfect amount. Maybe even not enough. Maybe I should like you even more.”
Jungkook finally giggled. Was that even possible, for his Jimin-hyung to like him more?
“Did you ever worry about your nose before you were a trainee? Did you ever even think about it?”
Jungkook shook his head.
“And you’re going through puberty, so of course your skin will break out now and then. That’ll pass. It happened to all of us.”
Jimin gestured toward the phone on the tripod. “So,” he said, “this tutorial. That’s, um, that’s a white lady, isn’t it? An American white lady?”
“Yes,” said Jungkook, looking chagrined, like a puppy caught shaking a pillow. Like he already knew what he’d done wrong.
“There are literally thousands of Korean YouTubers who make makeup tutorials. Find one of those. This one – it doesn’t matter how many followers she has — her skin tone is all wrong for you. Plus, her contouring looks bad. Does she not own a blending brush or sponge? Look at those hard lines . . . Is she hard of seeing? Find someone who looks like you to follow. Skin tone and eyes are especially important. Plus, we need to support our homies.”
Jimin began to sort through the products Jungkook had laid out. He picked out a few.
“You usually fall asleep in the makeup chair, right?” Jimin asked.
“Yes, but not because I want to,” Jungkook answered. “’M just so tired sometimes. I want to watch the makeup noonas, but . . .”
“Well, if you can fight to stay awake and watch, that’ll help. And ask the noonas questions at the beginning, before you fall asleep. They love it when you ask questions! And once they start talking, they don’t stop. They explain everything, which keeps you awake.”
Jimin continued, “Another thing about that tutorial – unless you’re going to be doing a drag show, that look is too much. Not that you can’t or shouldn’t do drag, mind you. You ARE pretty, whether you want to admit it or not. And I’m going to tell you that until you believe it, until we’re old men together, feeding birds in a park. I think you’d be great doing drag. You’re such a good mimic, with your voice and physically too. You wouldn’t have to lip sync ‘It’s Raining Men.’ You could just belt it.”
It was true. Jungkook could mimic all of them, their voices, facial mannerisms, the way they walked and moved. Making his hyungs laugh that way was a huge source of joy for him. For all of them.
Jungkook blushed. “Mmm, no, no drag for me, thank you.”
“We’ll see. We’ll put that on the back burner, as the managers like to say. So let’s start with something subtle and soft. And the rule is: You can always add more but taking a little bit off is nearly impossible. You usually have to start over. So have a light hand.”
Jimin continued for a while, telling Jungkook what colors suit his complexion best, which brands he liked best, talking him through how to apply everything. How to build color. Telling him how pretty his eyes are. How perfect his brows are. How cute his lips are.
“Those eyes of yours will have their own Twitter account someday.”
“So will your butt.”
Some of it was like torture for Jungkook. He loved being praised for his singing because he knew he was a decent singer (though he also believed he had a long, long way to go and a lot to learn). He felt awkward about being praised for his looks because he just didn’t believe it. He might look good in these pants or that shirt, but they all did. But he just couldn’t compare to the rest of them when it came to his face. And he was too skinny.
Jimin noticed when Jungkook felt uncomfortable but continued to talk him through applying various products, softly praising his technique as well as the result.
“See, look how handy your art experience comes in here – you really know how to handle the brush and load it with the right amount of product. Okay, tap a little off . . .”
They worked like that for a while, with Jimin showing Jungkook some of his own tricks. Eventually, they found a few Asian YouTubers to follow.
When they were done, Jungkook cleaned his face again with Jimin’s products. By then, Jimin was lying on Jungkook’s bed, his melted icebag still on his knee.
Jungkook said, “Hyung, you need more ice – let me bring you some.” He scampered off to the kitchen and came back a couple of minutes later with a bag full of ice and two bananas.
After the ice was back on Jimin’s knee and they’d each eaten a banana, Jimin reminded him, “Never forget, Jungkook-ah, lip balm always! But there’s no law that it can’t be tinted a bit, just to make your lips look a little pinker, more luscious. That’s what I do. Try that one.” He waved his hand toward the pile of tubes and pots on the desk.
Jungkook found one among the mess, then looked to make sure Jimin was watching him. He pouted his lips and swabbed them with a bright pink balm that had a bit of sparkle added to it. He giggled then flopped onto his bed next to Jimin.
“Um, hyung, thanks for helping me.” Jungkook’s face was pink, this time not from any makeup.
“Jungkook-ah, I will always help you. Whenever. With whatever. Forever and ever. I’ll bail you out of jail and provide you with an alibi.”
“And, ah, thank you for not laughing at me. With my white lady clown face.” He giggled while saying this.
Jimin rolled onto his side and propped his head up with one hand to look at Jungkook, who then rolled to look back at Jimin.
“I need to confess . . .” said Jimin.
Jungkook’s eyebrows went up.
“Well,” Jimin continued, “my confession is that someday I probably will laugh about it – your white lady clown face. But not until you’re ready to laugh too.”
Jungkook nodded solemnly.
“That lip balm is so pretty on you!” Jimin exclaimed. “You look very handsome. And pretty. Very pretty.”
“So do you, Jimin-hyung,” answered Jungkook with a fresh flood of pink on his cheeks. “Here,” he said, patting at Jimin’s lips with the sparkly gel.
Then Jungkook leaned across the few inches that separated their faces and placed a sparkly, pink kiss on Jimin’s cheek, which was now also quite pink and pretty.
They stayed that way for a while, curled toward each other and talking in whispers until eventually, they both fell asleep.
Jimin woke up a few hours later, scrubbing at his eyes and feeling the throb in his knee again. He glanced at Jungkook, who was still deep asleep, and softly left a sparkly, pink kiss on his cheek. He gingerly got up from Jungkook’s bed, then pulled a blanket over him. He limped back to the kitchen for more ice, then went back to his and Hobi’s room.
And if Jimin used face wipes instead of cleanser that night before he crawled into his own bed so he could wipe around that pink kiss and keep it for a few more hours, that was his own secret to keep. And if Jungkook giggled and blushed when he saw the smear of sparkly gloss on his own cheek after he woke up, that was his secret too.
