I Was On A Train 7 Months Ago And It Was 1am And I Had Written Something And Just Rediscovered It

I was on a train 7 months ago and it was 1am and I had written something and just rediscovered it

jungkook sits across from yoongi on the train. as he looks out the window, the trees and foliage and twilight flutter past him, not fast enough for him to miss, but not slow enough for him to linger in the spaces between them. he sees yoongi’s reflection in the window, the fluorescent train lights illuminating his hunched over figure scrolling away at his phone. the dark night bleeds into yoongi’s face. he’s transparent, but if jungkook concentrates, he becomes almost solid, the color of his arm so close to reality in the tinted glass. but if he shifts his focus to the scenery, yoongi is marred, the trees and buildings blending into the lines that outline his face, making him disappear. it invokes some strange, irrational fear in jungkook’s gut, something knotted in his intestines that burrows itself further in as he keeps staring. yoongi fades, then he is solid, then he is a mixture of blue and green and shapes that twist and change form at random. then he is solid again. for just a moment, when they pass a particularly red brick building, yoongi is gone completely. it makes jungkook want to look away. but he keeps his eyes trained on the reflection, watching yoongi wrinkle his nose, shift in his seat. absentmindedly scratch his arm. he wonders if yoongi knows he’s watching him. he wonders if yoongi will look up and into the window, and catch jungkook’s reflected eyes with his own. harness jungkook’s gaze and keep him trapped there as he bores into his heart. he wonders if he will see jungkook, make eye contact, with both their reflected states fading in-and-out of the trees, only half-existing, and if their temporary presences will find each other in the murk. if jungkook presses his nose to the glass, the reflections disappear. but he is selfish and wants to stare at yoongi and the slight flick of his thumb as he pads at his phone screen, he wants to trap this vision in his cornea forever. he wants to access it later when he’s alone, basking in the memory of yoongi’s closeness. the intimacy of it. jungkook wants him forever.

(the scariest thing about reflections (is that although he can see yoongi in almost-solid) (he can’t see himself at all) (he is transparent) (the outline of his head barely there as the sky takes the place of his face) (yoongi exists but jungkook does not) (yoongi exists on a different plane) (on opposing photoreceptive realms) (but maybe) (on yoongi’s end) (jungkook is only thing he sees.)