Zodiac

Frustrated, you sat up straight and slammed your palm against the horn. A sharp, futile blare cut through the air. You knew it wouldn’t help, but the inaction was suffocating.

You leaned back again, eyes scanning your surroundings for any empty parking spaces. At this rate, you would have better luck parking out here and making a run for it to the hospital than waiting in the seemingly never ending traffic.

To your annoyance, every square inch of curb was occupied, and the few legal spots left were too far out of reach.

Your hand darted to your phone. Double-tapping the screen, the digital numbers glared back at you: 12:23 PM. Over twenty minutes late. At this rate, the shift would be halfway over before you even crossed the threshold. Defeated, you gripped the steering wheel, trapped in the agonizing limbo of waiting and praying for the traffic to break.

When the traffic finally parted, you didn't waste a second. Your heels clacked sharply against the concrete floor of the parking garage as you hurried toward the towering medical center. The building loomed over you, a monolith of concrete and glass stretching endlessly into the gray sky.

A few yards ahead, another person dashed through the sliding doors, looking just as disheveled—likely another victim of the gridlock. Unlike them, you paused at the entrance, catching your reflection in a small compact mirror. You checked for dark circles, smoothed down a few frantic flyaways, and took a deep, centering breath. Look professional, you reminded yourself, before squaring your shoulders and speed-walking through the entrance.

The automatic glass doors parted with a soft hiss, instantly swallowing the city's noise and replacing it with the sterile hum of a bustling hospital. The air smelled faintly of bleach and rubbing alcohol. The chaotic symphony of squeaking sneakers, muted conversations, and the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment washed over you.

Darting your eyes across the lobby, you spotted the main reception desk and marched over. The woman behind the counter was utterly engrossed in her computer, the blue light reflecting off her sharp features. She didn't even glance up as you stopped in front of her.

You hesitated, clearing your throat. Nothing. The rapid clicking of her keyboard continued uninterrupted, as if you were invisible.

"Excuse me?" you murmured, a flush of embarrassment warming your cheeks as she finally paused. "I'm here as a volunteer."

The receptionist straightened, adjusting the nametag pinned to her crisp uniform. Bora.

She looked you up and down, her lip curling into a critical line as she finally made eye contact. "You're over forty minutes late."

"I know, I'm so sorry. There was a massive—"

"Traffic? Yes, I'm aware," Bora cut in, her voice dripping with ice. "I also know three other volunteers who took the exact same route and managed to arrive on time—if not early." She leaned back in her swivel chair, crossing her arms. Her intense gaze pinned you to the spot, making you look down in sudden shame. Forty minutes? Time had slipped through your fingers faster than you realized.

"I—"

"Listen," Bora interrupted again, "I know you're not getting paid to be here, but if you're just trying to pass the time, the exit is right behind you. The patients here actually need help. We don’t have time to mess around." She pointed a manicured finger toward the glass doors.

A spark of defiance flared beneath your embarrassment. If she cut you off one more time, you might actually take her up on the offer.

"I apologize," you said, forcing your voice to remain steady and uninterrupted. "I am here to help. Trust me, Bora, it won't happen again."

"It better not. Do you even know where you're going?"

"I was told someone would brief me at the front desk," you explained, trying to ignore her blatant hostility.

"Well, since you've wasted half your orientation time, you'll have to figure it out as you go. Name?"

"Y/N," you muttered.

She didn't reply, her fingers flying across the keyboard once more. After a tense moment, she spun her chair around to the printer behind her, impatiently ripping a fresh sheet of paper from the tray.

Spinning back, she thrust the paper into your hands. "Take this to Dr. Han's office to get your supplies. Down that corridor," she gestured vaguely down a long, sterile hallway to her right. "His name is on the door. You can't miss it."

"Am I just delivering prescriptions?" you asked, scanning the list of names.

Bora let out a heavy, irritated sigh. It was crystal clear: she despised you on principle. Sure, you were late, but the sheer attitude felt entirely uncalled for.

"You'll deliver prescriptions, sanitize the rooms, and assist the patients with basic needs," she snapped. "If it's a medical emergency, you call a nurse or a doctor. Got it?"

"Yeah. Thanks." You forced a polite smile, but she only offered a scowl and a dramatic roll of her eyes before turning back to her monitor.

So much for a good first impression.

Walking down the seemingly endless hallway, you studied the document Bora had given you. It contained seven names printed in bold, black ink, each followed by a room number, a diagnosis, and a list of medications. You frowned, trying to pronounce the complex, foreign names of the pills. At least your job was just to deliver them, not mix them.

Realizing you’d lost track of your surroundings, you looked up from the page and began scanning the identical wooden doors lining the corridor. A few doors down, a silver plaque caught your eye: Dr. Han.

You knocked gently. A muffled, calm voice drifted from inside. "Come in."

Pushing the door open, you stepped into a quiet, sunlit office. A man sat behind a mahogany desk, looking surprisingly young—perhaps only a few years older than you. His dark hair was styled back, and a pair of reading glasses rested on top of his head. For a brief second, you caught your breath. Are all the doctors here this attractive?

"May I help you?" he asked, tilting his head with a polite, curious expression.

"Are you Dr. Han?" You stepped further into the room, letting the door click shut behind you. "I'm the new volunteer. Bora sent me down."

Understanding washed over his features, and a warm smile replaced his professional mask. Standing up, he gestured toward the paper in your hand. "Could I see that list, please?"

You handed it over and watched silently as he navigated the room. He moved with a practiced, fluid grace, pulling specific medicine bottles from the heavily stocked shelves without a single moment of hesitation. He clearly knew this inventory like the back of his hand.

Left alone at his desk, curiosity got the better of you. Your eyes drifted across his workspace, skipping past the keyboard and settling on a file folder left open. Attached to the top corner was a photo of two young men, flanked by dense medical jargon. Because of the distance, you had to squint to make out the text.

Park Jimin... and J—

Before you could decipher the second name, the rustle of Dr. Han’s coat signaled his return. You quickly took a step back, heat rising to your face. The last thing you needed was to look nosy on your first day.

Dr. Han set a medium-sized gray tray on the desk, carefully arranging the prescription bottles atop your original sheet of paper so the names remained visible. "It's lightweight enough to hold with one hand if you keep it balanced," he advised kindly. Then, he looked up, his eyes twinkling. "So, what caught you up? You're quite late."

"Oh. Traffic was a nightmare," you replied, offering a sheepish smile and bracing yourself for another lecture.

Instead, Dr. Han let out a soft chuckle and slid back into his office chair. "I take it Bora already gave you the third degree?"

You nodded ruefully, tracing the rim of the plastic tray.

"I apologize for her," he said, rolling his chair a bit closer to his desk. "She can be a handful to deal with."

"It's alright. I get why she's upset. First impressions and all."

"True, but she's probably just extra cranky because you're assigned to 'her boys.'" He rolled his eyes, a hint of playful disdain in his voice.

You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it," Dr. Han smoothly deflected, picking up a pen. "You should probably get moving before she comes looking for you. Come back and see me when you're finished with the rounds."

Though you were still thoroughly perplexed by what he meant with ‘her boys’, you decided against questioning him again in fear of wasting more time. You instead offered a quick, grateful goodbye and hastily made your way out of his room.

With the heavy gray tray in hand, you let your eyes read over the list of names and their assigned rooms. The first name on the list was Jeon Jeongguk, and as you went further down you recognised a familiar name: Park Jimin. Your stomach did a slight flip. If only you had worn your contacts today, or even brought your glasses with you, maybe you could’ve finished reading whatever was on the Doctor’s note.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over you and you shook your head to rid yourself of the feeling. You weren’t here to pry or be nosy. You were here to help these patients.

You finally came to a pause in front of Jeongguk's door. It was identical to Dr. Hans—heavy, sterile wood—except this time the words written in bold black ink were his name.

You flip the sheet of paper in the tray over, careful not to drop anything and continue reading over it. Jeongguk’s name was written again, and written beside it the words ‘Eating Disorder’ were written in italics.

Your eyebrows knit together in mild confusion. An eating disorder? You looked back up at the heavy wooden door. For some reason, you had expected the patients in this specific wing to have more... severe, behavioral diagnoses. A standard eating disorder usually meant a specialized medical ward, not a high-security, isolated corridor like this one.

Shaking off the thought, you carefully shifted the tray to one hand, raised your knuckles, and knocked softly. "Jeon Jeongguk? I'm coming in."

When no answer came, you gently twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

The room was surprisingly spacious, but completely devoid of any personal touches. No posters, no books, no color. Just a pristine white bed, a small desk, and a large window overlooking the bleak gray sky outside. Sitting on the edge of the bed was a young man.

The moment the door clicked, he flinched, his head snapping toward you. Your breath caught in your throat. He possessed a striking, ethereal kind of beauty, with wide, glassy doe-eyes and soft, youthful features. He looked incredibly fragile, his knees pulled tightly against his chest as he trembled slightly in his standard white hospital scrubs.

"O-Oh," he breathed, his voice soft, airy, and entirely defenseless. He immediately scrambled off the bed, clutching a small, worn plush bunny to his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you. Are you... are you new?"

A wave of instant sympathy washed over you, melting away the tension in your shoulders. "Hi, Jeongguk," you said, offering your warmest smile as you stepped inside. "I'm Y/N, the new volunteer. I just brought your medication."

"Y/N," he repeated, testing your name on his lips. A shy, breathless smile bloomed across his face, and his big eyes crinkled at the corners with what looked like pure, innocent adoration. "That's a really pretty name. Thank you for coming. Most people... most people are mean to me here."

"Well, I won't be," you promised softly, setting the tray on the desk and picking up the small plastic cup.

He stepped closer, his movements hesitant, like a frightened animal trying to trust a new hand. He looked down at the pills, a look of profound sadness washing over his handsome features. "They make me take these because they say I'm sick. They say I don't eat enough. But my stomach just hurts all the time because I'm so lonely."

He looked up at you through his long eyelashes, his gaze intense, completely locking onto yours. There was a desperate, magnetic pull in his eyes that made it impossible to look away. "But I feel better now that you're here. You're going to stay with me, right? You won't leave me like the others?"

"I have to finish making my rounds, Jeongguk," you explained gently, reaching out to hand him the cup. "But I can come back and check on you before my shift ends."

"Promise?" he whispered, taking the cup from you. His fingers brushed against yours, warm and completely gentle. He took the medication without a single complaint, offering you another sweet, boyish smile that made it hard to believe he belonged in a place like this.

He seemed so completely normal. So utterly harmless.

"Thank you, Y/N," he murmured softly, sitting back down on his bed and neatly tucking his plush bunny beside him. "I'll be waiting for you to come back."

You offered him a final, reassuring smile, your heart swelling slightly at how remarkably sweet he was. Turning around, you stepped toward the door, completely relieved that your first interaction had gone so smoothly.

Because your back was turned, you didn't see the exact millisecond his boyish smile dropped. You didn't see the warmth evaporate from his face like a cruel illusion, or how his wide, glassy doe-eyes instantly went entirely blank, dead, and empty. You didn't see him silently mouth your name against the plastic cup, his expression morphing into something cold and unrecognizable as he stared fixedly at the space you had just occupied.

You only paused when a sudden, heavy thud rattled from the wall of the adjacent room.

You jumped slightly, your hand freezing on the door handle. You waited a beat, but the corridor outside remained dead silent. Shaking it off as a stray nurse moving heavy equipment next door, you opened the door and stepped back out into the hallway, letting the heavy wood click shut.

IDOL

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Suddenly the air in the little shop shifts and a sharp, cold breeze rushes through the room despite the fact that today should have been nothing but a pleasant breeze. Little ashes of smoke begin to appear from the thin air of the floors of the shop, sauntering around as customers sitting in their designated seats pick their feet up out of fear, their whispers of panic raising, and the man at the center of the demons’ wrath feels sharp ice crawling all over his body.

“It seems you want trouble,” Jungkook says as he takes a step forward, causing the man to step back, and so Jungkook keeps following along until he backs himself against the counter, trembling in sight while the rest of the people hold their breaths, too frightful to make a move in fear of being on the receiving end of the demons’ wrath.

“I-I don’t want trouble,” the poor man stutters.

Taehyung clicks his tongue in irritation while Jimin scoffs.

“Clearly you do,” Namjoon says. “You uttered her name. In the demon world, no one is allowed to utter someone’s name so carelessly. Only if they mean something to you and if the person has allowed you to utter their name.”

“I-I’m sorry sir, I-I didn’t know.”

“And giving roses,” Yoongi plucks the flower right out of his fingertips, “means an eternal love you are willing to spend the rest of your life with.” He burns the petty little thing right before the man’s eyes, all the while keeping his glare pointed right at him, causing the guy to visibly shallow a hard lump.

“Do you understand where you’re wrong?” Hoseok threatens, an arm propped up against Yoongi’s shoulder, hovering.

“I-I-” He looks like he’s about to piss his pants.

“Do you, understand?” So Hoseok reiterates, deeper, darker, graver. “Yes or no?”

“I..y-yes, yes—”

“What are you doing?”

A voice.

A sweet, sweet voice more precious and sweeter than the nectar the butterflies flock themselves onto, than any blood that can satisfy a vampire, than the sun that gives humans light and nutrients. A voice they love more than anything in this world.

Except the woman herself whom it belongs to.

They turn in an instant, ears perking up, head snapped, to find you standing before the door that leads to the backrooms, holding onto a tray of desserts they know you’ve made just for them, and their faces immediately soften.

The room brightens up, the shadows beginning to melt away into thin air in the same way they appeared, and Jimin is just about to rush up to you if it weren’t for your eyes suddenly shifting from them.

Your attention isn’t on them.

“You’re scaring the poor man!” You quickly say as you put your tray down onto the counter, rushing to untie the apron strings from behind, rushing in between them and the gentleman, an arm extending as you force Jungkook to back off. “Not just him but my customers!” You turn to address the guy. “Are you alright sir? I apologize for everything.”

He takes one glance behind you and instantly freezes up once more, quick to shake his head vehemently at the dark eyes staring straight into his soul — unbeknownst to you.

“I-I’m okay! I’m okay!” He blurts out before simply scurrying out the door before you can get another word in.

You stare at the scene, blinking at his sudden rush, before turning around to place your hands upon your hips, all the while the boys are quick to change up their expressions, acting as if they’ve been innocent all along.

“You just lost me a customer. Would you like to explain why you were interrogating the poor dude?” You start, brows furrowed, shoulders tense, chin slightly protruding and they know you’re trying to be all high and mighty but in their eyes, you just look like an upset bunny trying to fight seven wolves. “You really need to keep yourselves in check and stop summoning your shadows to show up out of nowhere, you know that scares people. How are my customers supposed to eat and drink and have a calm peaceful day if you just show up out of nowhere and deliberately make a scene?”

“M-miss Y/N, we’re fine but please—” An older woman tries to appease you, her approach timid as she holds her hands up, trying to calm you down in fear of the men in the room who’re the reason for your anger. “You don’t have to stand up for our sake.”

“We’re fine, you don’t have to do this.”

“I’d really love it if I didn’t have to witness our favorite baker in town—”

“What are you talking about, ma’am, they need a proper scolding,” you say otherwise, clearly unaware of the public’s concern for your life, being as you’re literally standing up against seven tall, masculine men who can literally bend the Earth and destroy this town with a flick of their wrist.

“Miss Y/N, please—”

“It’s alright, just go back to your coffee. I assure you I can handle this.”

“No please—”

You ignore their pleas to turn back around, that business smile fading the second you meet their eyes and they frown, hating the way you sounded kind to your customers and yet don’t bother to send them a smile.

“So then, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

“It’s not even that big of a—”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms before your chest, looking up at them with a serious expression and they know they can’t not listen to whatever you say.

Only you can ever make them bend a knee.

“Sorry,” Jimin grumbles under his breath but you pretend you didn’t hear it.

“What was that?”

He sighs and steps forward, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you in close, much to the audience’s dismay, and pepper kisses upon your cheeks. “You heard me darling, I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry. We’re sorry,” Jungkook joins in, a hand on your head as he presses a kiss to your temple.

You feel your heart lighting up, a smile waiting to creep up but you know not to give in just yet. “And to my customers?”

Namjoon crosses a hand over to his heart, giving the people a light bow. “We apologize for the inconvenience, dear customers of Y/N’s,” he says, and while they simply look back with mouths agape and widened pupils, frozen in their spots, he turns his head back your way, a cheeky little grin spread across his face as if asking for a compliment for doing the thing that you asked him to do.

You bite back a grin, seeing how obedient they are when it comes to you, but you know that if you let them see even the smallest bit of that, they'll disregard the people around them and simply coddle you to their heart’s content.

So you take Jimin’s hand and lead him into the backrooms, knowing the rest are quick to follow along, all the while leaving your customers blinking and rubbing their eyes, wondering if what they had just seen was right or if it had been simply a figment of their imaginations.

After all, everyone knows demons would never yield to a human that easily, much less care for them in the way they just treated you.

“Someone looks stressed.”

Once you’re finally left alone with your demons without any eyes kept on you, you let your guard down, smiling ruefully as you take a good look at the seven of them. Demons don’t live on sleep in the way humans need it, they get their energy elsewhere, but sometimes there are days you feel as if perhaps taking a nap will help them.

They look so tired.

“But that still doesn’t mean you can come around here and demand things out of my customers.”

Yoongi grunts, rolling his eyes at your words like a child hating to be scolded. “I get it, I get it,” he repeats exasperatedly when he walks over to place his head against your chest, letting you run your fingers through your hair to coddle him.

“But he was trying to give you roses,” Taehyung says as he clicks his tongue with irritation, that glare he has on is always enough to kill someone if he could, and for a good while you were scared of it yourself, but luckily you’ve gotten used to it. Taehyung would never hurt you after all.

And you know exactly what roses mean in the demon language. It was what they gave you when they confessed their undying love to you after all, a day you will never forget, a day they swept you off your feet and the very day you became forever theirs. You can never forget what those roses mean to them because to demons who’re almost incapable of feeling, much less love another, if a rose is given by them unto another, it is something one must never doubt.

“You do understand that roses aren’t as significant as they are to us humans, don’t you?” You remind them, a light chuckle leaving your lips when Taehyung drops his head onto your shoulder, asking for the same attention you’re giving to Yoongi. “I mean they mean a lot to me because they mean a lot to you but to humans in general, roses are just another sign of love.”

“Exactly, love. That’s a universal language and he was trying to steal you away from us.” You feel Hoseok’s arms slide around your waist from behind, lips pressing onto the nape of your neck.

“He didn’t know,” you try to excuse the action of the poor man who you didn’t even know was trying to confess to you just a few minutes prior.

But they’re having none of that.

“Who goes around professing their love to someone they don’t even know that well? Did he really believe a pretty girl like you would remain loveless by men all around her?”

You laugh awkwardly at Seokjin’s words. “What’re you trying to say by that?”

“He should know his place,” he says as he takes your chin from under his fingertips, bringing you forth to his face, “and that you, who is beloved by many, wouldn’t have already stolen the hearts of others around her. You attract after all, and just like those pretty little sweets you make every day before the town can even wake up, a simple glance at you can cause quite the addiction.”

“I..” You avert your eyes, cheeks heating because you know exactly what he’s trying to imply. “I don’t think I..”

“You don’t?” The eldest raises a brow as if daring you to further challenge his belief.

“W-well…” You stumble on your words before clearing your throat. “Sometimes too many sweets can be bad for you.”

“Well, luckily I have a sweet tooth.” A small little smirk curl along the corner of his lip, a low chuckle leaving him just as he leans in to capture your lips, leaving your heart to skip a thousand beats faster than its initial pounding.

He doesn’t kiss you for too long but even then, once he leaves you, you’re a blushing mess.

“Heart’s pounding rather fast,” Yoongi states, and you’re stumbling over your words once again.

“I..I-I wasn’t…”

“How long has it been? You’re still swooning over such a small thing?” Jungkook teases.

“It’s alright, I quite like it actually,” Seokjin says, his hand reaching up to tuck it behind your ear. “It’s quite refreshing seeing what we do still makes her react like this. You love us that much, huh darling?”

“If you’re here just to tease me, please just return to whatever it was you were doing before coming here.”

“Hey, don’t act like you don’t like it,” Namjoon pulls you back in when you try to run away to hide your embarrassment. They hold you in close, grips so steady you know there’s really no chance you’ll ever be able to escape.

Not that you want to.

And seeing those looks on their faces, you know they know that fact more than anyone else.

After all, these days can sometimes be rare; the days when they show up before you unexpectedly, most times without ever telling you beforehand. These days are the days you cherish the most, when you can be in their arms just like this, without ever feeling as if they would ever let you go.

Not until it’s time for them to leave. Not until they have to leave.

And it’s in those moments when they do have to leave do you feel the most lonely. When you have to stay behind, taking a moment to gather yourself, remember their holds and kisses, before returning to your baking with a customer smile on your face so no one knows just how lonely you are when your demons leave, knowing you can do nothing but wait until their next visit.

There are times when waiting takes days, weeks, and sometimes even a whole month and you’re always left wondering just where they are and where they’ve gone and what they’re doing.

But you know you’d never tell them just how lonely you really are when they’re gone.

After all, the times they visit are for the times of loving and holding one another. It isn’t a time to dwell on things that don’t matter, it isn’t a time to cry and wish and to hope. It’s a time to cherish what’s before you before they have to leave.

Only when they’re gone can you actually dwell on your loneliness.

“If something ever goes wrong or if you simply need us, you can call us anytime.”

You stare at the little bell shaped into a red rose one lonely night while standing under the stars in the middle of your garden.

It’s the garden of red roses they created for you, a garden that can never wilt no matter the seasons, time, or period. It dies only when the owner who received these flowers dies.

It will wilt only once you’ve wilted.

“Just how long will you continue to live, little ones?” You hold a hand out to feel the soft petals of the roses upon your fingertips, smiling at how pretty they are. Not even one petal is torn or hurt. They all look alive and well, alive and flourishing.

Jungkook says they reflect their owners’ age as you know that one day in the far future, these flowers will probably begin to look dainty and frail as well, and yet you don’t wish to ever see these flowers growing old with you.

Growing old means nearing death.

Growing old means wilting.

And then what will happen to the ones you’ll be leaving behind? The lifespan of a human does not last forever after all, and the more you think about it, the more you come to understand that they’ve got all the time in the world, hence they don’t ever look sad or griefed whenever they come to visit days or weeks or months later.

It is because to demons, the passing of time is simply but a second walking by.

Yet to you, every ticking second means a second closer to wilting away.

You let out a sigh, turning from the flowers to take a step forward towards your house when a harsh wind passes by, causing your shawl to fly off, and in an attempt to grab for it, you’ve forgotten about the bell you had in your hand, causing the little flower shape to fall from your hand and jingle as it hits the ground.

You gasp as you freeze in place because in just mere seconds, you know you aren’t alone anymore.

Seven presence right behind you.

Who would have thought it’d work this fast?

You quickly pick your bell up, eyes scanning forward at the shawl that flew off onto a rose bush, and rush forward to take it back because of how cold the night air has gotten.

“Well someone most certainly called us here on purpose, didn’t she?”

You turn back at Yoongi’s sarcastic comment once you’ve gotten your shawl to wrap it back onto yourself.

“Sorry! It was the wind,” you quickly say as you rush back to their side. “The bell was in my hand and when my shawl flew away, I forgot about it so when I went to reach for my shawl, the bell fell out and now here you are, summoned by the jingle.”

“So you’re not in immortal danger?”

At Seokjin’s question, you take a look around, wanting to laugh a bit at the situation. “Uh nope! Looks like I’m perfectly fine.”

“So you’ll only call us if you’re in immortal danger? How disappointing.” Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his lips pouting.

“What? You want me to call you if I miss you or something?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You place the bell securely into your pocket then tighten the shawl around your body. “Anyways, it’s pretty cold out here. You should get back to what you were doing. As you can see, I’m not hurt nor am I in any danger. In the meantime, I think it’s time for me to head to bed.”

You begin to walk off to your door again when Namjoon stops you.

“What were you doing out here?” He asks and you stop in your tracks, shrugging.

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“About immortality and stuff.”

“Immortality?” Jimin steps up to drape an arm around your shoulder in order to turn you back around to where they’re standing, at the same time helping you to keep warm against the night breeze. “What’s got you thinking about immortality, darling? Are you finally thinking about how to become one?”

“You know I like my human life.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Something about growing old is part of what makes human life so beautiful or whatever.”

“I don’t understand why death is beautiful to you,” Taehyung says.

“Well on the other hand, don’t you think immortality is somewhat of a curse?” You ask and they look upon themselves as if they’ve never given that idea a chance before.

“Why would it be a curse?”

“Well…” Your words trail off slowly and yet they wait for your explanation, eyes steady on you, ears open to whatever you have to say, and you play along with your fingers, nails digging into the skin a bit. “When I die…you’ll still have thousands of years left to live.” You avoid their eyes, staring down at the ground. “...Won’t you miss me?”

They grow silent.

Everything grows silent and you hear nothing but the little breeze that passes by ever so often, as well as the cicadas out in the night, singing their sweet songs, a melody mirroring the birds in the early morning.

“So you’re saying,” Hoseok begins, “that you’ll die before us.”

“It’s inevitable,” you say, looking up again. “Forty years may not mean a lot to you but forty years into the future means me getting old and gray and my health deteriorating. Humans are living and dying at the same time. I get closer to death with each passing day.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You know it’s true.” You watch as Jungkook turns to look at the flowers in the garden, his hand reaching out to touch one of them. “I’d never want to die and let you live through years of heartache. I’d never want to leave you behind in this world and no matter how happy we will be, death is something that is inevitable to come for me, you know that. Though I wouldn’t ever want you to follow along either. I don’t want to die together.”

“So you love your human life but you don’t want to die and leave us behind, but you also don’t want us to choose our own death in following you right behind, and you don’t wish to become an immortal.” Namjoon takes a step forward into your proximity, their expressions more grave than any other times you’ve ever seen them — except in those moments when you’re in immortal danger right before them. It frightens you a bit wondering what’s going on inside their heads, but what frightens you most is the inevitable future threatening to tear you apart.

“What is it that you want, Y/N?” Namjoon asks and you take a moment to think.

What is it that you want?

Why’re you thinking about immortality and death? Why was the wind listening to you when you were left to yourself in this garden? Why did it hear your silent plea in wishing to see them and therefore taking your fate into their hands and causing you to accidentally call for your demons?

Why does any of this even matter?

“I don’t know…” You look down at your feet, fingers unable to keep still, the vision before you blurring. “I-I don’t know,” you admit truthfully and when you look up again, their eyes widen at the sight of tears brimming along your waterline, waiting to fall down any second now. “I don’t want to live forever but I don’t…I don’t want to ever leave you behind and…and…I don’t know what I want. All I know is that…is that even though I enjoy this human life, I hate how different we are. I hate how different we think because to you, a day passing by means nothing. A week, a month, maybe even a year. A year without me is nothing to you. You can let time go by and it wouldn’t mean a thing because you get to live forever but to me…to me….I..”

You swallow the lump that wishes to cut your voice off, forcing the words out. “I hate waiting. I hate not knowing when it is you’ll be visiting again. I hate each day that passes, I hate it when you leave me, I hate being lonely and empty, I hate it when I have to wait. I hate it. I hate all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I don’t know,” you cry, ignoring the tears that slip by when they close in on you. A few hiccups threaten to leave your voice behind but you continue talking through it all. “It’s just…I-I didn’t bring it up because I know you get busy and even if you aren’t so busy, I…I thought that, well, if the passing of time doesn’t affect you, why should it affect me?”

“You should have spoken up, my love.”

“You know if you asked for the world, we’d give it to you in a heartbeat, right? Why would you think we wouldn’t stop anything and everything if you just asked to be with us?”

“I don’t know,” you cry again, letting the last syllable drag out as more tears fall from your eyes and they’re quick to panic, realizing their reassuring words probably sounded more like them scolding you.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. You don’t have to cry anymore.”

“We know. We know now so it’ll be alright.”

“I’ll tell you what, become one of us.”

Your cry falls silent as only sniffles and small hiccups leave your lips when you hear those words. You blink up at Taehyung, slightly confused. “..What?”

“You heard him, become one of us.”

“I told you I don’t want to live forever.”

“You don’t have to live forever, darling.”

“I..I don’t?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We can live together for as long as we want and when you get tired of life, when you get tired of immortality, just say the word and we’ll make it happen in a heartbeat.”

“...Really?”

“Of course.” Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead just as you feel Taehyung’s hands wiping your tears away and Seokjin handing you a tissue he created from thin air. “Hoseok said, didn’t he? You could ask us for the world and we’d give it to you without question.”

“We’d burn the world if it means making you happy.”

“But what if I just want you and not the whole world?”

Soft smiles appear upon their faces, softening their features, whispering sincere affirmations of love.

“Oh darling, you already have us.”

“And you’ll have us even after death takes us all away.”

“But…I thought…” with the last remaining tears wiped away, you take a small little glance towards the rose bushes, eyes scattering off with confusion, “doesn’t immortality mean…forever? How would I..-How would we just…leave this world?”

“There is always an answer to everything,” you feel warmth seeping through the palm of Yoongi’s hand when he caresses your face, “and just like the stars that burn bright in the night, lasting for eons on end, they too have their beginning and ending and one day they will burn away as well.”

“Then, technically..you aren’t cursed with immortality?”

“Well technically, yes, but in theory, going against the ways of life means going against the laws of the world, which also means throwing things off balance, so it also means receiving death sentences for throwing off said balance.”

You take a moment to blink, trying to comprehend what Jungkook just said, before simply letting out an “Oh.”

They chuckle at your silence and you feel Jimin ruffle your hair. “Though of course we’d never let anyone touch you, not even the world. There are other ways to leave an immortal life but it’ll happen when we get there so don’t worry your little head off about how everything works.”

“You just have to trust us,” Seokjin agrees.

“You’ll trust us, won’t you?” Hoseok asks.

You take his hands in yours, eyes determined without a glint of hesitation. “I trust you with my life and until death do us part, it is yours to keep.”