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Pairing : businessman!Jungkook x businesswoman!reader named Soa.
Genre : office romance, infidelity, marriage au.
Summary : Soa finds out that Jeongguk has been unfaithful. She takes it upon herself to remove his shares from her family company.
Warnings: Cheating, Tears
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Her office felt colder than it had ever been. The polished dark marble bore the weight of silent war. Shafts of sunlight bounced off the windows in fractured lines, painting Soa in jagged snapshots of her own silhouette—crowned in stained glass, but broken. Cracked in a way she had never expected to be.
Jeongguk stood behind her, silent, raw with regret. His suit, a shell from a man he used to be, hung off his shoulders like a too-loose coat, its fabric still carrying all the weight of polished appearances. Behind him, the double doors swung closed with a hush that sounded louder than a slammed exit.
She would have preferred him to slam it.
His foot was halfway in front of the door when she spoke.
“Get out.”
Her voice was low. Even. The blade hidden in her tone made him stop. Not enough to cost him another step, but enough to remind him how much ground he’d already lost. She’s never spoken to him life that.
Soa’s blazer slipped from her shoulders. She folded her arms tight over her chest as though she could hold every part of herself in, except the part that was bleeding. The chair behind her caught the jacket with a soft, final tap, and she wrapped herself in stoic composure.
“Now isn’t the time to grovel back to me,” She told him, chin raised, voice cold.
Jeongguk’s chest tightened.
“I’m not leaving,” he said, rawness smudging his control. “We need to talk.”
The single laugh she gave him cracked the air, sharper than a whip, colder than a crack in the ice.
“Now you want to talk?” she scoffed.
His fists clenched at his sides. Every heartbeat screamed a confession.
He swallowed and forced words out. “You think you’re the only one bleeding?”
Soa didn’t turn. She didn’t have to.
But blood was already seeping through his voice.
“No,” she finally said. Quiet. Cruel. “I think you’re the only one who folded.”
It was a wound he wouldn’t—couldn’t—recover from. He blinked hard.
He stepped forward. Soa held her ground. Spine iron, hope dead. Her eyes the coldest he’d ever seen them be when looking at him.
“You think I wanted this to happen?” He asked, the sound of it shattering like a stone breaking glass.
She sighed and let her eyes travel the length of him, down to the hands that had once protected her, now held themselves up like stained trophies.
“No,” she said. Then softer, “I think you let it happen.”
Silence boiled between them. Her words thrummed with accusation and grief and the kind of heartbreak that didn’t look like grief anymore. It looked like fury. She was angry at him. Angry at the scandal, angry at him throwing away years of love and dedication to someone random. Someone she never saw coming.
The second set of words came out in a rush, unfiltered.
“You got weak,” she whispered. Her voice broke before she could shield it. “Instead of saying you felt like you were drowning … you reached for the easiest buoy. You didn’t come to me, Jeongguk”
The use of his name struck a never. The room spun as though the lights danced off every line in her face, as though he’d only just seen her.
“I couldn’t come to you,” he said finally, breath low and ragged. The words felt hollow but true.
Her head snapped to him.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t leave room for anyone else’s strength,” he whispered back, almost afraid to say it out loud. Pain spiraling into accusation. “You want to be everything. You want to hold the world in your palm and still be adored. There’s no room for me stand beside you.”
She closed her eyes. But her spine didn’t bow.
“I would have stood beside you,” she whispered.
“You don’t let anyone help!” he screamed.
She didn’t even blink. Not a flinch.
Then he said something he couldn’t retract.
“You stand in the front like a queen with no king. And wonder why everyone’s too scared to approach. I told you then that I would never compete with your power. I still won’t do it it today.”
Truth stabbed harder than any lie.
In that moment her hands shook, tight fists at her sides. Lip quivering. She didn’t break. She bled.
He saw it.
A single tear slithered down her cheek slowly, silently. Like a wound reopening.
“You think I wanted to lead?” she said softly, voice thin as breath. “You think I enjoy carrying every sword? Fixing everything? Smiling so Belle never asks why I’m crying, too?”
He heard it, felt it, in his chest as though it was his own ribcage cracking.
She studied him, eyes blazing but arms wrapped in her own pain.
Because of him.
Then she whispered the words that landed like a fist to his gut.
“You were never strong enough to stand beside me, Jeongguk. That’s why it’s so easy for you to fall for her, because she praises you.” She gestured toward him, her eyes glistening as she looked into his. “And maybe it’s my fault for thinking you’d ever be able to rise to the occasion, become the man who would walk beside me.”
He saw it then. The truth hung raw between them. He had always been behind, not beside. Always out of breath.
He jerked, as though shot.
“I wanted you to lead me,” she said. “I wanted us to fight it together. But when you folded, I kept fighting.”
She didn’t need to elaborate. He knew.
His chest squeezed so tight he couldn’t breathe.
And then—the denial that shattered everything.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
Time paused.
Her whole body froze. She was fire and ice in one frame. A queen in her ruin.
He took a single step forward—slow, desperate, hungry for absolution.
“I swear,” he said softly. “I didn’t. Wouldn’t do that to you or Belle.”
He didn’t lie. But the truth tasted bitter.
He didn’t sleep with her, but he had craved being seen. Somehow that felt worse. It carried threads of a deeper intimacy.
Soa stared at him. Her tears were loud.
Air felt thick.
She sagged. Fell into the high-backed chair behind her, head pressed against velvet. It swallowed her sorrow and her dignity all at once.
Jeongguk stifled a sob, barely audible.
She didn’t stop him when he fell to his knees, head pressed to her lap. Mistakes were his shroud, sorrow his penance.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her dress. “I’m so fucking sorry. I let it go on too long. I ruined our family.” He held onto her.
Her arms didn’t wrap around him. She let him stay, this soldier naked in his surrender. It broke to see her husband that way. She’s never imagined that was how he felt and somehow she should have expected it. Taehyung had always called it, even though Jeongguk was his best friend.
She felt his tears seep down—into the part of her that still loved him. She hated seeing him in the floor, beneath her. Something she never wanted to ever witness or be the cause of.
“I’m sorry,” He said again, a fragile echo.
He didn’t move. Just held that space. Held it like a gift. Because inheritance and forgiveness don’t look like a clean slate—they look like this: humanity laid bare.
this story is a short about infidelity, love lost and mixing business with love.
its my first time releasing in tumblr, so any feedback is welcome.
Pairing : businessman!Jungkook x businesswoman!reader named Soa.
Genre : office romance, infidelity, marriage au.
Summary : Soa finds out that Jeongguk has been unfaithful. She takes it upon herself to remove his shares from her family company.
Warnings: Cheating, Swearing
—
The morning she decided to let go of Jeongguk was not a loud one.
It was quiet. Still. Cold, even though the sun poured through the windows of the company like honey, golden and warm. Soa stood at the floor-to-ceiling pane in her father’s office, arms folded, her reflection only half-visible against the blue Seoul sky. Her breath fogged lightly on the glass despite the season. It wasn’t winter outside, but it was winter in her bones. Winter in her stare and winter in her heart.
Across the mahogany desk sat Mr. Kim, her father, stern, silent, weary. Beside him, Taehyung watched her with something like mourning in his expression, jaw tense, hands curled into fists on his lap as if he, too, had hoped this day would never come. She could imagine he never wanted it too. Jeongguk was his best friend after all.
The papers in front of them rustled as the legal advisor explained the share transfer. Jeongguk had once called it a gift, when Soa’s family had secured him into the board at Kim Group, ensuring generational stability, intertwining his legacy with hers. Her father had given 10%, his mother 5%, and Belle 3%. It had been his way of saying blessing their union forever. And now, here she was, untangling forever one signature at a time.
“I want them in my name now,” she said simply. Her voice didn’t shake. “Except Belle’s. That stays.”
“Why not let Taehyung take—” her father started, voice low, but Soa raised a hand.
“I’ll split it between the three of us. Myself, Taehyung and Belle. That way, the family stays intact. He gets nothing.”
The lawyer nodded slowly, flipping a page and sliding it toward her. Her fingers gripped the pen like it was the last weapon she had left, and when the ink kissed paper, it felt like she’d burned the last photograph of them in her mind. She knew that there was no turning back. He wouldn’t get past this.
She stood after signing. Straightening her jacket—black, cinched at the waist, lined with satin. It fit her like armour. Her hair back in a sleek knot, the way Jeongguk always said made her look untouchable.
Good, she thought. Let him think that.
Taehyung stood too, gently brushing her arm. “You’re sure about this?”
“No,” she said quietly. “But I’m done.”
By noon, the meeting room was filled with the company’s top executives. They rose when she walked in, the room swallowing the sound of her heels against polished floors. She met each pair of eyes with calm, not allowing the roil inside her to show. Not even when she walked in and took her seat at the back of the room.
Of course she’s here, Soa thought. I made her indispensable. Smart. Quiet. Beautiful enough to forget.
And yet she hadn't forgotten. Every glance. Every flicker of silence between Jeongguk and the woman. How his phone once lit up with a message at 2:43 a.m. that he said was a system notification. How he started turning away from her in bed, hands no longer lingering on her skin, answering calls in the bathroom in a hushed tone, how their texts became logistics and nothing more. No more sweet nothings, check ins, grocery lists. She had known long before she could prove it.
But proof didn’t matter when your heart already bled.
“Mrs. Jeon,” someone said, snapping her back. The name made her insides coil. It made her sick. “Would you like to open the meeting?”
She nodded once. Her voice was calm. Professional. The cadence of someone who had nothing left to lose.
“I’d like to begin with a formal notification that effective immediately, the Jeon family shares previously held by Mr Jeon Jeongguk have been consolidated under a new structure. I, Kim Soa, will now oversee them, with board representation shared between myself, Mr. Kim Taehyung, and Belle Jeon.”
There was a small ripple of whispers. Everyone noting the use of her maiden name. No connection to the Jeon family. One of the execs blinked. Another cleared his throat. The assistant looked up sharply. Shock written over her face at the suddenness of the action.
“Any questions?” Soa asked.
Not one hand rose, as expected.
She didn’t look toward the door as it opened twenty minutes later. She didn’t need to.
She felt him.
Jeongguk’s presence always had a weight, even when she didn’t turn to see the stunned silence etched into his features. He had rushed here. Hair unkempt, blazer wrinkled. His eyes were wide, darting from the table to her, to the assistant, and back again.
“What the hell is going on?” he said lowly, but everyone heard it.
Soa didn’t flinch. She simply closed the file in front of her.
“Meeting adjourned.”
Her voice was velvet over steel. Her face a sheet of ice he didn’t have access to anymore. No soft smiles reserved to set him at ease. Only the cold blank stare she’s become accustomed to these few months.
She didn’t make it three steps from the boardroom before he caught her by the wrist.
“Soa. What the fuck are you doing?” He growled, stopping her in her tracks.
She turned slowly, calmly, like a woman who no longer owed him rage. “I’m taking back what we gave away too carelessly.”
“Your family gave that to me. For you. For Belle.”
“And now I’ve secured it for me. My daughter and my brother.” Her chin lifted. “And not for your mistress.”
He froze, hand falling limp at his side.
And then his voice dropped, equal parts stunned and guilty. “What are you talking about?”
She laughed, quiet, sharp, bitter. “Don’t lie to me, Jeongguk. Not now.”
He took a step forward. “It wasn’t serious—”
Crack.
Her hand met his cheek in a sound that echoed.
The hallway went deadly still.
Jeongguk’s head turned slightly with the impact, eyes wide in disbelief as one hand lifted slowly to touch the skin she’d scorched. But Soa didn’t falter. Not once.
“I trusted you,” she whispered. “I loved you in ways I didn’t know love could stretch. I gave you my mind, my body, my name, my child—and you gave it away to someone I pay to bring me coffee.”
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
She wasn’t done.
“I stayed up at night memorising the curve of your back so I’d know when you were lying in your sleep. I watched your hands reach for your phone in the middle of the night and still told myself you were tired. That you were just distant. That maybe you were just going through something. That maybe I was imagining it all.”
He reached for her. “Soa, please—”
But then another hand shoved his chest back.
“Don’t,” Taehyung growled, stepping between them like a wolf guarding his own. “Don’t fucking touch her. You don’t get to beg now.”
Jeongguk staggered. His breath shook.
Soa’s eyes never left him. “You lost me before you touched her, Jeongguk. You lost me the day you thought I wouldn’t know. That I’d never see you.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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A/N: Here is another lore-heavy chapter-but more modern lore if you catch my drift. My inbox is open, and I'm ready to chat while I write chapter 14!! As always, if you want to be added to the taglist shoot me a message! Sometimes I don't get notified of comments.
Love you all!~Delyn
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Recap
“Yes. Now have mercy on my soul, reaper. I have done no wrong.”
Jungkook swallowed, his head tilting to the side in a taunting jerk. “Nothing wrong?” He cast his eyes in Y/n’s direction, taking in the damage Clay had done. Clay’s own gaze finding her gave her the privilege of watching the light of hope drain from his expression like a squashed bug.
Jungkook shifted his weight back so he could lift Clay a few extra inches off the pavement, coiling his muscles up for his final blow.
“Go to hell.”
Jungkook slammed the man into the ground, and Y/n felt the rumble of it within her, but not against her skin–the rumble was not of this world. The man shrieked with misery as his body crumbled into dust within Jungkook’s hands, the particles falling to the road and disappearing beneath the surface.
Silence overtook them.
Namjoon was stuck, hovering over Y/n’s shoulder–slack jawed and still and his face maculated with stripes of black ooze. A comforting hand suspended on her shoulder blades where he had used it to help her up. Y/n was paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of awe–staring at the place where Clay had been only moments before, the space now empty save for Jungkook’s hands that splayed out on the asphalt to support his weight.
The hands that had just slaughtered a demon in front of their very eyes.
Jungkook was the only body that held motion; his shoulders undulating with each inhale and sweat dripping from his brow. He looked beyond exhausted–his face colorless and steadfast–for he himself was still processing what he had just done.
The woods that flanked them on either side trickled back to life from their fearful silence. The birds that had gone quiet returned to their glorious songs and symphonies, and the trees swayed in a peaceful dance of bark and leaf, like they were thanking them through the whispers of the breeze.
Jungkook steadied himself on his heels and tipped his head back, his eyes falling shut while he focused in on bringing in breaths of fresh air through his nose and exhaling them through his mouth in small puffs. He dropped his head down, and with trepidation, brought his pitch black eyes to spear through Y/n and Namjoon. Neither of them spoke to him first, unsure of what to say after what they had witnessed–their silence landing uncomfortably with Jungkook–who took their speechless reverence as anything but.
“Are you…” Jungkook started hesitantly, coming to stand where he was once seated. “Are you scared of me?”
Y/n let her eyes wander from his dark eyes that held the inhuman power to see, and the hands that had just committed feats she would have never thought possible two months prior; and shook her head resolutely. She struggled with pulling herself to her feet and took staggering steps with a level of coordination that’s only fair competition would be a newborn giraffe.
“Jungkook, that was single handedly the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.” Y/n stumbled forward to meet him, the blow to the back of her head messing with her equilibrium, and her adrenaline left her muscles shaking against her will in its efforts to release itself from her body in waves.
Namjoon made a noise of protest in the back of his throat, coming to his own senses and scrambling to his feet to stop her reckless venture that was doomed to end in some kind of fall. He brought an arm around her shoulders and used one of his hands to guide her forwards.
“Agreed–Though I’d prefer if you didn’t just walk willy nilly all over pavement of all things with your second injury of the week.” Namjoon apprehended her with a disbelieving shake of his head, making a ‘come here' gesture with his chin. “Jungkook, come to us before she eats rocks with another fall.”
Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes to the side while she tried to escape his hold to walk on her own. “I’m not a grandma Joon, tis but a flesh wound.”
Neither of them cared for her delusional attempt at humor, Jungkook joining in on the smothering by coming up along her other side, wrapping her arm over his shoulder and maneuvering most of her weight onto him.
“I can handle her–bring the car closer.” Jungkook grit his teeth, the hand he dug into her waist fighting to keep her still from her incessant tugging.
Namjoon obliged, running a few yards back to hop into the driver’s side door of Yoongi’s jeep that had been left ajar, turning the engine and putting the car in a slow and controlled roll towards them.
“You’re trusting him to drive?” Y/n winced from the headlights that cut through the misty fog and seared into her eyes. “I thought you wanted me alive…”
Jungkook let out a small humored exhale. “It’s only for like…two minutes.” The car stopped, the passenger door coming to welcome them with open arms with the metal edge only inches away from colliding with them.
Y/n gave him the best deadpan stare she could, the sound of Namjoon jumping from the front seat blurring into the surroundings as her eyes fixated on a droplet of black blood splatter on the corner of his lip and cheek–bringing two of her fingers up to immediately wipe it away knowing it was a futile effort. They all looked like they had stood on the other end of a wood chipper after sending a can of black paint through it, one drop was hardly going to change the outcome of their appearance.
Jungkook’s brown eyes followed her movements, giving her that same cloudy and indistinct expression that shrouded his face from her discerning eyes that specialized in picking him apart. He loved to wear this look as of late, plucking it out of his mind and dressing it up with apathetic distance at the strangest of times.
Y/n didn’t know if it was the double head injury, or the adrenaline that made her act so brazenly, but as Namjoon rounded the front of the car she smiled up at Jungkook, her thoughts coming out a simple and plain from her lips as though discussing the weather.
“Pretty.”
Before Jungkook could respond to her compliment, she was whisked towards the car and his words were swallowed by Namjoon ushering him to help hoist her in the passenger seat. Buckled and tucked safely into their seats, the three of them rode in a loaded silence back to the Estate. All of their minds completely blasted to smithereens from the last 24 hours of events.
Y/n let herself sway lamely with each bend of the road, the few thoughts she did have tumbling out into the space between them. “How did you know to come find me? And where?”
“I saw you running. Alone.” Namjoon turned the car onto the bumpy side road that led to the front entrance, his voice bouncing in tandem with the rocking motion of the car that he drove just a bit too fast in. “I went to get the car and called Jungkook on the way–figured it’d be easier to cross your path with a car that can go off road than on foot.” He coughed, and gave her a half smile. “Plus I figured it was a ghost, and I don’t have any powers to defend us against that kind of thing. I was hoping that while they might outrun us on foot, there was no way they could outrun us going eighty up the main road.”
Y/n chuckled, letting her forehead fall onto the cool glass of the window. “I hope not.” Y/n watched the estate come into view. Its tall walls, countless pristine windows now dotted with spring and summer flower boxes, and majestic atmosphere looked like both a safe haven, and a prison at the same time. “You couldn’t see him at all?”
“Not until Jungkook lifted him off of you.” He stole a glance to her from the road ahead.
“Eyes up please!” Y/n used two fingers to turn Namjoon’s face towards the windshield. “That doesn’t explain how you knew where to find me so quickly.”
“I could sense you.” Jungkook spoke up from the back seat, his head wobbling side to side in a parallel manner to Y/n. “I’ve spent enough time with you…spiritually…to have a feel for your energy.” He creased his brow in slight distaste, nibbling on his lip. “I’m still working on longer distances.”
Y/n looked taken aback slightly, unsure whether to feel flattered or uncomfortable knowing that her whereabouts were always perceivable. She concluded that for the time being, it was a comforting kind of thought to know that if she were to be in another life or death situation that he would take little time to locate her–that thought alone was enough to placate any feelings of discomfort.
Namjoon pulled the car to a slow stop on the gravel path in front of the Estate, the engine rumbling softly beneath them. The trio sat there for a few minutes, trying to muster up the courage to complete the trek back to their rooms.
“You know, we are getting really good at handling this stuff. I think we should make a career out of it.” Y/n chimed in through their heavy silence. “Same time next week?”
Namjoon gave her a flat look, his eyes unamused. “We shouldn’t be treating your near death experiences with the same severity as a child falling off their bike. It’s not something I’m personally interested in making a habit.”
“I’m not treating it lightly! I’m just commending our stress management skills compared to the first time.” Y/n held her hands up in surrender. “Because let’s be honest–it probably won’t be the last–so it’s good that we have a bit of a system.”
“You are taking this lightly. Y/n, I think you might actually be in true denial. Shock even.” Namjoon turned the ignition off, the keys jingling together as he stuffed them in his pocket.
Y/n swatted his words away with her hand. “Pfft–No way. I’m just handling this like a champ. After all,” she turned to give Jungkook a lopsided grin, “we have a secret not-so-secret weapon now. Why should I even get upset? I’m alive and that’s all that matters.”
Namjoon’s jaw clenched, and he looked at her with wide incredulous eyes. “How hard did you hit your head this time? Now you're really starting to worry me.”
Y/n gave him an unimpressed shrug. “Not sure. He did give it a good whack.”
Jungkook made a noise of disbelief from the back seat, while Namjoon dropped his forehead to sit against the steering wheel to take much needed dragging inhales to keep the fragments of his sanity together.
“So…” Y/n pursed her lips and side eyed the front door, pulling Namjoon out of his silent prayers. “How the fuck are we getting past the cameras when we look like this?” She gestured to the lovely abstract rendition of their skin and clothes the spirit had so kindly embellished them with.
Namjoon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth repeatedly while he turned ideas over in his head, bringing his gaze up to stare blankly up at the front doors while one of his long fingers tapping against the wheel to the beat of his thoughts. His eyes lit up, and he turned in the car seat to regard them both with a sheepish smile.
“I have an idea–but you guys may not like it…”
_________________________________________
“Alright, other side.” Namjoon ordered Jungkook to spin so his back would face him, his clean front half dripping water onto the concrete floor below his now bare feet. Jungkook blew water from his nose as he did so, bringing his hands to wipe the water from his eyes with his fingers while he shook out his now soaking curls.
Without warning, Namjoon opened the nozzle of the greenhouse hose to spray the back of Jungkook’s clothes and legs, earning a low cry of objection from Jungkook, the ice cold spray startling him. Y/n giggled from her spot on one of the wooden stools Namjoon had pulled up next to him for her to sit on while she waited her turn, taking joy in a moment that felt so light hearted and in reminiscent of their youth while her brain rushed to process yet another near death experience–thank god for dissociation was all she could say.
Namjoon’s plan was the only one good enough to stick to: spray off in the green house and enter through the back separately–if anyone asked they would say that Y/n had come to visit him at work and the hose nozzle burst. Jungkook’s clothes were dark enough that if he moved fast enough, the camera’s would just pick him up as extra sweaty from his gym session.
The water cut off again, and Jungkook was free to take his seat while he dried off a bit to supervise Y/n’s birdbath. Y/n rose to her feet, peeling off her destroyed socks and discarding them to the side, then taking her spot where Jungkook had just been over the drain.
“I’m going to lower the pressure in case anything is tender from your fight. Let me know if you need to take a break.” Namjoon commented, turning the dial onto the setting he thought best and ignoring Jungkook’s offended grunt at not being offered the same pleasure. He flicked his warm brown eyes up to her, his dimples making an appearance with a small smile. “Ready?”
“Yup.” Y/n held her arms up, and squeezed her eyes closed to brace for the impact. She still yelped when the stream pelted her skin and clothes–the water much too cold for anyone to really prepare themselves for–and scrunched her entire face to protect her eyes and mouth from ingesting any of it.
Namjoon got his just desserts when Jungkook was incharge of rinsing him off–the younger making sure to turn back up the dial to the higher pressure Namjoon had used on him. All the while, Y/n couldn’t help but lean up against Jungkook’s wet side from her seated spot, enjoying the feel of his laughter vibrating against her forehead; they had curated a small pocket of peace in an otherwise terrible weekend.
After their impromptu baths, they were able to scurry themselves back to their rooms for real showers and dry clothes. The trickle of warm water left room for her to think up at least a dozen reasons and excuses for her overprotective friends as to why she should still be allowed to go through with their afternoon plans of traveling into the Paralrealm. If they were to truly get anything done, they couldn’t keep stopping every time some demon reared their ugly head–something she knew Yoongi would at least have her back on. She hoped they could see past her current reckless tendencies enough to still treat her with some autonomy. Sure at the moment she might not be processing what had just happened healthily (if at all), but she couldn’t force herself to do it any other way either–her emotions had been muffled in some subconscious act of self defense. They were still definitely there, just hidden behind metaphorical draping velvet that muted the presence of their existence.
She could deal with the piled up boxes of thoughts and feelings later, she decided, taking the dampened impact as a gift to keep going about her day. So what if the pile exploded through the curtains later when they got too big to manage? That was a later Y/n problem.
Right now Y/n had someone to find–sort of.
Grabbing the leather tube of her family tree from its hiding spot in her closet, she made quick work of the lid and slid the thick paper out from its confines and onto the floor. The strong jaw and angled face of the mimic was still fresh on her mind, and the name was familiar enough to draw her to the conclusion that she must’ve seen it somewhere before.
“Clay…” She tested the name on her tongue, running her finger along the branches in search of just who she was looking for, the paper tickling the edge of her finger underneath each drag of it across the surface. And it was like her hand knew exactly where to go–pulled by some unseen force like a magnet from within:
Clarence Wörner. 1900-1989. One of her very distant cousins.
Y/n snapped the QR code on her phone to open the website portal, marking an X near his name and offering a small description of her own.
“M.A.D: Calls himself Clay, and can shapeshift into people at will.”
Then she tapped the small stack of photos beneath his name that Jimin had so graciously tried to include for each family member, cycling through the three of them that were available. It was undeniable when looking at his picture to see the resemblance–this was without a doubt, the man that had been blasted to dust scarcely over an hour prior.
The same strong jaw and neatly kept hair, his eyes clearly a lighter shade in the first black and white photo instead of pools of inky black waste. A woman sat close to his side, staring blankly at the camera in a similar fashion to him, neither one showing any sign of physical closeness or affection. Like they were acquaintances sat together at the party of a mutual friend, caught off guard and disinterested in having the moment be captured for eternity. However the description insinuated quite the opposite.
“Clarence Wörner and Wife Hazel.”
Y/n looked into their hollow eyes for a few extra beats before she exited \ from the photo, unable to keep staring into their gray expressions any longer without feeling her stomach churn. Her thumb went to hover over the button to close the portal entirely, when something had her eyes retracting back to the description she had just written–for something new was added to it that she definitely hadn’t put there.
“M.A.D: Calls himself Clay, and can shapeshift into people at will.
-Was an actor at the Wörner Hotel Theater. Took a particular liking to Shakespear, most notably A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He often played the role of Puck: a shapeshifting fairy; claiming the role as his own at any theater in the state that would let him. His mother was Polish, thus he and his brother were fluent in both Polish and German as well as English.
The Mills Brothers, Elton John, show tunes, and Elvis Presley were his favorites–clears him up for a bit if you know what I mean.
I suppose this information might be of use at the moment.
Sorry for snooping.
Y/n looked at the new addition, blinking down at the pixels with befuddlement. Was this Jimin? He would be the only other person that could possibly have access to her website portal–he created it after all.
Y/n took little time in adding her message below the mystery persons, something soft and fuzzy stuffing her ears and mind when images of Jimin fluttered by.
“Jimin?...”
She waited, elbows propping up her upper body from its reclined position, eyes staring at the blank space beneath it, willing something to appear before her eyes. But nothing happened. Y/n heaved a sigh of disappointment–she couldn’t deny the small flicker of hope that had sprung up into her heart of getting to speak to him again even though their last interaction had left her less than content–to know that above all else he was holding his own with her parents.
Yet there was nothing.
She took that as a sign to move on, sticking a pin in the interaction for her to remember to share what the mystery person had written with her friends while she rolled the family tree back up and away. The slide of leather and paper against her hands was a cruel reminder of the fresh scrapes along her hands that she had forgotten to address.
Y/n had just finished applying the last band-aid to her palms when she heard the telltale sounds of Yoongi’s boots descending the hall–the gentle thuds stopping her in her tracks. The Mimic really had even perfected the way he walked down to the cadence, and it made her feel sick with the thought of how long it must’ve been watching him to be able to master so many little details of what made him Yoongi. The steps stopped outside his door and she was jolted from her stupor. During all of the commotion, she hadn’t even thought of contacting the real Yoongi about what had happened–what if he had been hurt?
Y/n scurried over to the door and wrenched it open with so much force Yoongi looked up at her in surprise from where he was reaching for his own door handle, his eyes wide and his mouth pulled into a flat line.
“Can I help you?” He asked, one eyebrow raised into his hairline while he pushed his door to swing open.
Y/n’s mouth opened and closed like a fish in water. Seeing his real face, and his real eyes looking at her with such life and vitality it left her speechless. Sure, the mimic had done a great performance, but with him standing in front of her now, she couldn’t believe she had fallen for whatever show the puppet was putting on. He was wearing the red workman's uniform, so she would give them that, and they had managed to master the way he walked. But there were differences they couldn’t fake. Like a small bandage wrapped around one of his fingers, twinged with red spots of blood instead of black, or the swing of his boots already crossing the threshold into his heavily warded room.
Oh fuck, Y/n commented internally as her throat began to burn. She had barely spoken to him and he was already blasting open the curtains shrouding her emotional state with just his mere presence. The day comes to her in a rush–terror, humiliation, gratitude, anger, relief–all baring themselves out for Yoongi to see.
“Yoongi!” Y/n didn’t think for the second time that day–the only difference being that this impulsive action was fueled by the need to feel the real Yoongi alive instead of fear and self defense, and launched herself to him without hesitation. Arms wrapped around his slender neck and pulled him close, the thud of his heart beat in his chest and the faint whistling sound from his nose an unsuspecting consolation. Yoongi, although confused, returned the hug with the unsure placement of his hands on her shoulder blades.
“That’s my name, yes.” His voice was wavering between sarcastic and concerned, like he was uncertain which emotion he was supposed to feel yet. “Are you sure you should be doing this in the middle of the hallway where someone could see?”
Y/n shook her head, her words muffled by the collar of his uniform, finding herself unable to stop the flow of repressed tears that seemed to always find their escape around Yoongi. “I don’t care.”
He grunted softly at her response and shuffled the two of them into his room, nudging the door closed behind them with the toe of one of his boots. Y/n couldn’t let go of him–not yet. She wanted to keep feeling how warm his skin was, and how the way he breathed sounded natural instead of forced. His touch left warmth instead of static tingling in its wake, its intentions clement and forgiving; not even a lick of the vicious and bloodthirsty clutches of the imposter.
“Okay really–did something happen? You’re lighting up like strobe lights on a wedding dance floor. Are you hurt?” Yoongi rattled off his questions, but didn’t push her away. Y/n knew he could sense her mood crashing down from denial to whatever it was she was storming through her with high winds and crashing waves.
Y/n retold her experience to him in shaky breaths, refusing at any point to let up the tight hold she kept around his shoulders–an unfounded belief nipping at her conscious that if she did, he would turn into the dead and graying demon from the woods and her hug was the only thing protecting him from that same fate. By the time she got to the physical altercation she felt like there was not enough air in the room, and Yoongi tucked his chin over her shoulder and leaned the side of his head against her own with a heavy sigh that was saturated with a million reactions that he withheld internally for the time being.
“Just can’t catch a break, huh?” He mumbled, his voice vibrating against her chest.
Y/n let out a watery laugh and wiped her face on one of her hands that rested on his shoulder. “Nope.” Y/n exhaled sharply, and continued on with one of her prepared talking points. “I’m not going to rest tonight. I can’t. I can’t keep letting them win. Not after whatever is happening with–” Y/n her voice gave out, but forced herself to find it once more. “–with Jin and Hoseok. Not after what those bastards did, using you like that. I won’t let anyone get away easily.”
“Okay.” Yoongi stated softly.
“I know you think it’s risky but–” Y/n cut off her own further defense, pulling back from their hug to look Yoongi in the eyes with shock. “Wait–Okay?!”
Yoongi nodded, licking his lips with his subconscious tick–not some fake attempt at it. “Okay. You know your limits, and at the end of the day it’s your choice. I don’t have any interest in controlling you or giving you rules to follow.”
“So you’ll have my back against Kook and Joon?” She asked hopefully.
Yoongi scoffed lightly, squinting his eyes at her with a small smirk. “Now you’re asking too much.”
Y/n let the tension fall from her body with a tear-sodden laugh turned sigh, sinking back into his awkward embrace and giving him an extra squeeze. “You truly are the best, you know that?”
“I…” Yoongi swallowed audibly, his throat bobbing with the sound and his words coming out muttered. “You’d be the only one that seems to think that way.”
Y/n tore herself away from him with furrowed brows, her mouth open to scold him for thinking such thoughts blocked out by a knock at his door. Yoongi hastily made sure to create more distance between them, and coughed into one of his fists before opening it for the two aforementioned men–both properly washed and dried.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Yoongi let out a tsk sound, the moment of vulnerability he had let slip through his walls now gone, vanquished by his prickly persona. The two of them pushed through the door without question, nudging Yoongi out of the way to find their designated spots around his room.
Y/n didn’t even bother giving them a moment to breathe, starting forth with her best strong face and pretending she hadn’t just crumbled into Yoongi minutes before. “I’m still going in. It’s my choice, and I’m tired of waiting. We are giving them exactly what they want by waiting around–if Jin and my mom have some kind of idea of what we are doing or whatever the fuck is happening with the ghosts, we need to keep pushing to stay ahead.”
“Y/n–” Namjoon started, his face saying more than his words could–that he strongly disagreed and was revving into his own counterpoint.
“No. You can either help me, or take the day off. You guys have the privilege of walking out of here on your own anyways–I don’t.” Y/n dropped to her knees besides Yoongi's bed, pushing Jungkook’s legs aside to make room for the wooden chest beneath it. “And I for one, would not like to be strangled, hunted or have my head smashed into the nearest surface every time I want to get a snack from the kitchen. Rest helps me in the moment, and I appreciate your concern–I really do–but I need more than concern. I need action.”
Yoongi came to her side, helping her to unlock the chest and start stacking the items behind them wordlessly.
“What if Jungkook needs rest? After what happened with him–”
“Wait,” Yoongi’s head snapped up to narrow his eyes at Namjoon, “What happened with Jungkook?”
“I haven't gotten to that part yet.” Y/n grunted, slamming the lid closed and pushing the chest back under the bed and out of the way, directing her next comment to Yoongi. “ Jungkook went full psycho and exploded a ghost.”
“I’m sorry–” Yoongi cut himself off with a disbelieving scoff, “–What did you just say?”
“He grabbed him–Clay–and forced him to show himself, then he just…” Y/n looked to Jungkook for help, but the man in question was avoiding everyone’s eyes to stare off into the patterns of Yoongi’s rug. “...He just grabbed him and made him disappear.”
“Fucking hell guys–Open with that next time maybe?” Yoongi looked from person to person, shaking his head. “Some old man’s A/C breaks and I miss everything…”
Y/n ignored him, unable to think of anything other than her task at hand. “So you two–are you in or out?”
Jungkook fixed her with a stern glare, his eyes so heavy with fatigue Y/n almost felt bad for asking him. Almost. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Perfect.” Y/n chirped, raising an expectant brow to Namjoon. “Joon?”
Namjoon hollowed out his cheeks and pursed his lips, his eyes downturned towards his knee that bounced through his tension. The room was teetering on his response, the three of them waiting on the edge of their seats.
“Fine.” Namjoon stood abruptly, wiping his hands on his pants and groaning in frustration. “I’ll go grab the tea and some cups.” He pointed a finger menacingly at the three of them. “Don’t do anything until I get back, and you,” His finger landed on Y/n with more emphasis, “Let the two of them set it up at least. I’m going to go gray with all of this stress.” He mumbled the last part mostly to himself as he slipped from the door, leaving Yoongi and Jungkook to do as directed.
Yoongi cleared his throat, and gestured with his hands lazily to the pile of candles and cloth and a small laugh. “How does he expect us to ‘set it up’ when we have no idea how he wants things for the tea?”
“Maybe we should set up the session wards wider? Maybe just each corner of the room and lay out the cloth. Then he should probably be back by then.” Y/n had barely finished her sentence before Jungkook was up and on his feet, brushing her hands away from the pile and picking it up, looking expectantly at Yoongi for instruction.
Yoongi took the change in stride, guiding Jungkook to place a grid of stones, sprigs of herbs, and smears of essential oils in each corner of the room as an improvised ward. Y/n let her eyes close, heeding Namjoon’s instruction to take what little time she had to rest before she was to be thrown into whatever awaits her on the other side. The moment of peace didn’t last long, for she was leaping to her feet with an abruptness that startled the two men away from the bag of dried lavender Yoongi was giving hushed instructions over.
“I need to grab something from my room! I completely forgot…” Y/n padded to the door, pulling it open and taking large and quick steps into her own.
Too quick to miss Jungkook’s panicked grunt and Yoongi’s snapped “Focus here, she’ll yell if she needs us for the three steps it takes to get to her room.”
She sped to her closet, sifting through the jewelry box left abandoned on one of the shelves for the necklace Yoongi had given her, slipping it onto her neck and clasping it after a few failed tries. Her eyes stayed laser focused on the mess of jewelry–both old and new–prodding through each chain and pendant for one of the pieces she was looking for.
When her Oma–Margaret–had died, she had been sure to bestow both her and her two sisters with pieces from her own collection; pearls, brightly colored beaded necklaces, dainty rings with gemstones of all colors, and crystal earrings. One set of earrings, gold and three-tiered, glinted from the back of the box for Y/n to find with ease.
She snatched them into her fist, swiping a pearl necklace from one of the hooks for good measure. Y/n inspected the pieces, laying them over her palm and running a gentle finger over the surface of the glittering gold. She could remember the very last time she had seen her Oma wear them, the crystals reflecting orange and purples from the ballroom lights during that year’s Halloween party. Her legs had been too weak to stand by then, so she had designated herself as the one who held the candy bowl out to children as they passed by the ballroom doors on their way to their next activity. A simple witch hat sat crooked on her head that her Grandfather Johan had forced her into, some excuse of having her get into the holiday spirit tumbling out of his mouth while he snapped countless photos with a digital camera. They all had known it would be her last Halloween that year, even if no one had possessed the guts to say it, so she kept the hat on and didn't protest the hundreds of photos family would stop to take with her.
Namjoon’s baritone voice sounded from the hall, the sign she needed to hurry back over to Yoongi’s room. She tore her eyes from the earrings and met him at the door, a large plastic pitcher of grayish green tea in his hands and a stack of small plastic cups shoved into the pockets of his pants threatening to tumble out onto the floor.
With the wards up and the tea in hand, Y/n felt the first jitters of nerves buzz beneath her skin–for this might be something completely new–it could either work wonderfully, or go terribly wrong. But what was new for them? That spectrum of possibly had been their new baseline.
Nonetheless, Y/n held hope. Hope, for Namjoon was one of the smartest people she knew, and she had immense faith in his capabilities and thoroughness. Namjoon was finishing up his directions: Drink, lay down, and close her eyes; and if she felt anything off or odd, to let them know immediately so he could administer a few drops of a tincture he had made to counteract the ingredients in the brew.
“Any questions?” Namjoon asked, scanning over her face for any sign of resignation–a crease or a shift of her eyes to let him know she wanted to back out–only he didn’t find any.
Y/n shook her head, but Jungkook spoke over her movements with a question of his own.
“Can we go in with her?”
Namjoon chewed on his lip and tipped his head to the side with a shrug. “We can try–but I can’t promise it will work. I tried my best.”
“I think we should make sure it works with her first before sending all of us in. What if she falls asleep and doesn’t wake up for a couple hours? We don’t want to rush in empty handed and have us all compromised.” Yoongi drawled, already in the process of moving the candles from the center to different spots around the room to make space for where she was to lay.
“Then let’s just get to it.” Namjoon poured the first cup, and Jungkook helped clear the rest of the space. “Ready?”
The small cup of lukewarm tea was pushed into her hands, and Y/n seated herself down where the candles had once been, cradling the liquid to her chest. Her eyes closed as she imagined her trusted vines of vibrant green blooming out from within, wrapping around the tea to infuse it with her own intentions and energy. She pictured one dipping a delicate spiral through the surface, a buzz of lethargy sweeping over her mind at just one touch. Small tendrils of the vines were tasked with poking into the bowl to her left where the jewelry lay in a neat pile, a gust of her rose scented perfume pluming up from them where they were resting on top of a scrap of paper with her grandmother’s name scribbled on it.
Thoughts of Let me in quickly safely, and I wish to see Margaret Wörner please bring her to me, repeated like a mantra within her mind.
She steadied any nerves with a deep breath and stole a glance around the room to each of her friends, nodding to herself when she found each of them offering their own reassuring stare.
“Bottoms up.”
The tea slipped down her throat in one go, bitter and earthy with the after taste of something sharp that had her face scrunching in distaste–her sinuses opening with the pungent flavor. “Jesus Namjoon, what is in here? An entire spearmint plant?”
He shrugged, a small smile curving his lips. “I thought you were the mint connoisseur, you tell me.”
Y/n scrunched the plastic with a roll of her eyes, tossing it towards Yoongi’s trash can and missing. “Oops.”
She barely registered Yoongi’s judgement on her aim, for the room already started to blur at the edges and her eyes coming to a blink so slow she had to deliberately make sure she was still completing the action. Her torso teetered forward, her weight supported by her hands on her knees. She vaguely understood the words being said around her–
"Move the pillow over-"
“Lay back!”
No one would have to tell her twice, two gentle hands guiding her to lay back onto the black cloth where her head found one of Yoongi’s pillows. The distant feeling of Jungkook’s fingers slotting between hers, and Yoongi’s hovering face dissipated into nothing. There was no lapping water, and no scruff animal slinking around the darkness that enveloped her–the only two things she missed. She did not miss the burn of the rubber band that didn’t pull at the back of her eyes this time, nor the feeling of having her soul sucked from her body like a magnet.
There was nothing but the welcoming arms of sleep.
_________________________________________
This was so much better, Y/n decided, the room coming back to her in a smoky haze. She was in–and this traverse through the veil was all the more bearable.
Even though her ghostly hand held nothing, she could still feel a warm tingle upon its surface where Jungkook’s was attached to her physical body, and it gave her the push she needed to come to a seated position. Her eyes met his completely black ones, zeroing on the way his mouth moved in silent words that she assumed by Namjoon’s excited reaction that he was sharing her victorious transition.
She rose to a crouch, keeping her eyes trained on the door for any sign of movement beyond it.
“Oma?” She whispered, but no response came.
Y/n pressed her lips together and came to stand, giving Jungkook a point towards the door and a thumbs up. Though they had run through this a thousand times over the past week–that she would be looking for her grandmother, which meant she’d have to leave the room–Jungkook still looked perturbed. She could see him fighting the urge to follow after her, stuck between holding her hand and trailing after her ghostly form. Y/n pointed to her body and made an ‘eyes on me’ , hoping he understood the message to listen to it. Her head popped right through the surface of the door, peering out into the hall to check for any signs of danger.
The hallway was empty save for the same misty haze that blanketed the entirety of the realm, her head swiveling from one end of the hall to the other, looking for her grandmother. She heaved a sigh, toying the idea of searching further out into the hall and the landing when the clinking of metal and glass stole her attention back into the room.
“I gave these to you to keep, not to offer back to me.” Margaret lifted the string of pearls to dangle from her finger tips, her sleek pink skirt and blouse a stark contrast to the blues and creams of Yoongi’s room.
“How did you–the wards–” Y/n stuttered, her grandmother pocketing the pearls into her skirt as she rose to stand.
“You invited me in. That’s how this works as I’m sure you knew.” She gave Y/n a sly, knowing look that shifted into one of stone. “I thought I told you to stay out of this place.”
“I can’t Oma. I–no–we need answers, and things are only escalating for us. I’ve survived my fourth attempted murder as of just this morning, there’s no ‘staying out of it’ for me anymore when they insist on dragging me back into it by the throat.” Y/n wildly waved her hands about as she spoke, tired of having to explain herself to each and every person she came across. “I’m here because I need any answers or information you have to give me.”
Margaret hummed, and Y/n could hear the pearls click against each other from her pocket as her elegant hand tucked itself into it to roll them between her fingers while she listened.
“The answer I have to give you may not be the one you really want.” Margaret brought her other hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, her brow creasing with a sharp exhale from her nose.
“Any answer is better than none.” Y/n threw her hands up into the air in exasperation, and let them fall to her sides with a whispered, “Please.”
Margaret dropped her own hands and gracefully stepped over towards the door to stand beside her, flashing her a rueful smile. “We are outnumbered. That is all I have to say to you.” Margaret pushed past Y/n, stopping when only her head remained in the room. “It’s over. Go back to your body.”
Her head disappeared beyond the door, adding an extra layer of finality to her words.
Y/n had fought too hard to get in here and there was no way she was backing down yet. She gave Jungkook one last panicked glance before taking off after her.
“What?” Y/n sped to her side, imitating her hunched form and creeping steps, dropping her voice to a whisper after a stern look from her Grandmother. “What does that even mean?”
“It’s exactly as I stated.” Margaret held a hand up to signal a pause, and Y/n stopped to peek over her shoulder at the small black blurs of motion that darted from the foyer and down the hall beneath them, disappearing in a fit of warbled childish giggles. She waited until certain they were gone before speaking once more. “We can’t stop them anymore. They have taken too many of us–it is only a matter of time before we are all infected. And your mother has done nothing to help us.”
“Infected with what? What is my mom doing?” Y/n hissed back, keeping her steps light as she followed Margaret to the top of the steps. “Start from the beginning–I’m missing something big here.”
“It’s not just about what she is doing, but what she isn’t.” Margaret huffed, but conceded with a low voice. “For decades, the women of this family married into the family name–doomed to watch and never lead at the face of anything. However, between the lines, we all had one very important job: keep all of this,” Margaret gestured to the house and then to herself, “under control. Because none of the men were brave enough to face reality.”
“What reality? What job?” They were halfway down the stairs now, and Y/n’s chest began to tighten with anxiety the further she went.
“The reality is that something is horribly wrong here. This legacy–do you really think it’s as sparkly, or as cut and dry as your father, and his father, and even his father before him let everyone believe?” Margaret turned to land a scathing gaze on Y/n. “That everything was perfect? That everyone loved each other and held hands around the table in prayer each morning? That you and Adelaide were the only women who tried to fight for the crown, and that they all just peacefully made way for their brothers and sons?”
Y/n didn’t know what to say, any further questions ripped from her throat.
“Since Johanna Wörner, we’ve had one job and one job only: Clean up after the mess our husbands made. Whatever that mess looked like.” Margaret continued their trek, reaching the bottom of the steps. “And that was a full time job in that of itself–the cleansings, the prayer, the mitigation of feelings and emotions to keep things from blowing out of proportion, protecting the living from the enemies they have made along the way. We had a truce with the others as she called them–a truce that Adelaide started.”
“With who, Oma?” Y/n implored, letting herself be whisked into the study by her Grandmother’s steady hands.
“Now that I don’t know the answer to–we were never allowed to ask. All I do know is that your mother broke that truce, and now we are all paying the price for it.” Margaret slid the doors closed behind them, a breath of relief tumbling from her chest once they clicked into place. “I tried to hold down the fort–I really did–up until the day I died, Y/n. But your mother had no interest in listening, and now here we are. If I didn’t know any better it's almost like she wanted this to happen: for if the devil is on one's side, then it’s easier to raise hell.”
Fury bloomed through Y/ns ribs, weaving in and out of the crevices and burning everything in its path. “She’s doing this for what? To spite me? I can’t even begin to think what she would do this for.” She paced furiously about the study, hands gripping at her sides for some sort of stability.
“Y/n, think clearly now.” She spun on her heels, her hands coming up to rest on Y/n’s cheeks in a comforting manner and halting her frantic pacing. “Your brother is far too young to inherit the hotel in time, especially not with Anselm–your father’s predicament. My guess would be that she would step up to…hold his place until Roland is of age. And I think she made new deals and broke some old with the wrong people to make that a possibility.”
Y/n couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She could feel her soul trembling with rage so hot it threatened to consume her entirely.
“Of course, this is all speculation…” Her grandmother continued forth, sliding her hands down Y/n’s shoulders to hold both of her hands. Her face and voice were defeated and tired. “All we do know is that at this time, she has won. And there is nothing we can do about it.”
“No.” Y/n seethed through her teeth, unwilling to accept that answer. “We haven’t lost because I’m still here. What is the infection? Who is ‘we’? Who are you working with?”
Cruel was an understatement–a word that didn’t fully encompass the true nature of fate itself; the whip it holds gripped in a tight fist cracking down on anyone and anyone how they see fit.
The study doors to their side slid open with an audible bang, fate cracking its whip down on the two of them, rattling the stained glass on either side of the doorway and leaving them exposed and vulnerable to the prying eyes within the foyer.
Small and frail, the mystery little girl from the hutch stood in the gap. The only change in her appearance was that her normal eye had begun to sink into its socket even further and her skin was more discolored than it had been the couple weeks prior. She looked just as startled as the two women in the study, her own actions eliciting trembles from her hands and a quiver at her lip.
“Y/n, you must get back to your room.” Margaret’s voice shook, and she used one arm to shield Y/n back from the child.
The child wept bulbous gray tears, their feet fighting with every step to cross the doorway into the room, like each step tore her apart from the inside out.
“You don’t have to come in here child–Do not hurt yourself any further.” Her grandmother breathed out, pressing Y/n further into the study with each encroaching step of the child
“I h-have to.” The girl cried, her voice a cross between human and evil, folding and lilting around her vowels with the residue of an almost forgotten accent. “I’m scared!”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Margaret continued, leading Y/n to round the edge of one of the couches to put more distance between them and the child. “You can leave this room and let us pass.”
The girl shuddered, her chest rattling with each sob, staggering forwards to follow them around the loveseat. “I can’t. If I help them they told me it would stop–that the pain would go away.” She heaved in a gasp, but still found her breath unable to quell the rising waves of her emotions, her next words coming out in a wail. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore!”
Margaret pushed Y/n around the back of the sofa once the girl was deep enough to the study to give them an advantage, rushing the two of them out of the open door and towards the stairs to take them two at a time.
“I will answer all of your questions I promise–we just need to get you out of here first.” Her grandmother urged Y/n to move faster, her eyes unable to pick one spot to look in their panic-stricken search for any additional threats.
“Who is she?” Y/n called back to her, her own feet meeting the landing and turning sharply to the right. “I’ve seen her twice now and have no idea who she is.”
“I don’t know whose child she is, she is a mystery.” Margaret grabbed Y/n’s hand and led the way back to Yoongi’s room on quick feet, “All I do know that she is fast, and calls herself Ani. The poor girl has been fighting the turn for quite some time now. She is the one who took Patti.”
A snarl echoed from the foyer, and shoes struck the floor in such rapid succession it sounded like they were dragging across it instead of lifting up with each step; fast was an understatement–she was an animal closing in on her prey.
They arrived at Yoongi’s door, and Y/n tried to tug Margaret in after her–only for an invisible force to stop her from entering. Fingers dug into her wrist and yanked with more force, though whatever she had wasn’t enough–the ward always resisted with just enough force to counter whatever strength Y/n used.
“Oma–please.” All of Y/n’s anger decapitated, replaced with raw panic as each attempt to tug her in through the door was denied. “You were just in here!”
She tossed her head back to look at Jungkook, who was silently relaying what he was seeing to the other two, her hand still tucked snuggly in his own.
“Jungkook–help us please! She needs to come in!” Y/n begged, and she saw tears start to track down her own face that was still beneath him as the child’s growling grew closer. The hopelessness pooling on Jungkook’s face was enough of an answer to know that he couldn’t hear her.
Y/n stepped back out into the hall, grabbing her grandmother’s shoulders and pushing with all of her might.
“Y/n stop!” Her grandmother shouted, “You’ll just have to leave me behind!”
“No!” Y/n set her jaw together, with determination. “I won’t do that. That’s never an option.”
The child was at the end of the hall, whipping as fast as wind and just as unforgiving. Her teeth were bared in both fear of the women in front of her and the drive to rip their throats out with their jagged edges.
“Y/n get in there now.” Margaret choked out her words, and when Y/n made no move to flee, she spun around to grab at her wrists desperately. “Get in there now! Do not make me ask you again!”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears, shining a smile drenched in despondency that quivered at her lips and broke Y/n into pieces. A tender hand caressing Y/n’s cheek with shaking fingers crumbling her resolve. “I love you, Entlein. Do not waste your life to save those of us who are already dead. I wish you great things.”
Her world tilted, for her grandmother shoved Y/n through the doorway with one final touch of her hands.
Y/n couldn’t see what happened next, though she could hear it. A wet squelching sound coupled with the echoing screams of her Grandmother, loud enough to penetrate through the door and rattling into her bones. Sewing itself into every fiber of her being as sound she would never be able to unhear. Y/n wouldn’t–she couldn’t let her be alone.
“Open the door!” Y/n shrieked to the clueless men in the room, her finger pointing to the blockade aggressively, unsure how to make her point any clearer. “Please just open the door!”
That seemed easy enough for Jungkook to understand and relay, Namjoon kicking into motion and running through her to rip the door open for her to see what was left of her grandmother.
Her eyes were gone. Dripping black pits of tar took their place, cascading down her cheeks and onto the carpet below her. The planes of her face were tilled and torn, decaying in front of her eyes at the serrated edges. Her mouth was did the most damage to Y/n–gone was the lovely curve that danced about her memory over shared children’s books, plates of mac and cheese or dusted with flour from their baking escapades. Now set as though carved in stone, was an overly animated frown that resembled a theater mask in size and shape. Cavernous and unnatural. She was motionless, the young child now splattered with the remains of her eyes standing above her with a look of terror, her body shivering in involuntary convulsions as she looked to Y/n.
“I didn’t mean to. I can’t help it. They made me do it!” the girl blubbered through her words, wiping her soiled gray hands onto her tattered dress like it would erase what she had just done.
“Who.” Y/n whispered, unable to force her eyes away from the horrid sight in front of her–the ghost of her grandmother stirring, its movements jagged and sharp. Salt pooled in Y/n’s eyes, blinding her with rage and desolation at what she has become.
“The evil one. She is wicked. She makes me hurt. She makes us kill.”
The reality in front of her flickered in and out like a lightbulb screwed a bit too loose, thrusting her senses into periodic flashes of nothingness with the spread of a floral and saccharin taste across her tongue.
“No!” Y/n tried to spit the flavor from her mouth, her exclamation startling the girl in front of her to retreat. “Not yet!” She called after the child desperately, but she did not listen. She lunged to face her friends behind her, catching Namjoon’s nimble fingers screwing the lid of a dropper back into place as her own human face scrunched at the taste of its contents.
Y/n spent the last few moments she had observing the twitch of Margaret’s ghost with each stretch of the rotting veins that spread down her face and into her neck. The way her youthful complexion pulsed with a corruption that spun its webs deeper into her skin, eating away at the remains of the woman she loved.
The unnatural curve if her mouth moved, barely so; a haunting whisper.
“Find Bear. He is all that is left.”
The darkness won its battle for control, and she welcomed it.
Y/n knew she was awake now as the echoes of her grandmother's voice faded, and that her eyes could move if she wanted them to. She could hear Yoongi prodding at her with gentle words, feel the subtle tug of Jungkook’s hand on her own, and taste the herbal tincture Namjoon had dropped between her cracked lips. She didn’t want to hear any of that–she wanted to stay with her grandmother and to find Bear like she wished.
To sick Jungkook on that pitiful little girl that had so brutally mutilated her grandmother.
To sink the teeth of her own wrath into her mother’s existence and call her out for what she was: a Liar, a thief, and an enemy. A manipulator. Thus by proxy flinging herself violently onto her two friends that had betrayed her trust–betrayed her everything to side with something so monstrous and cruel.
She eventually did move, forcing her experience from her mouth with carefully maintained monotony onto awaiting ears. There would’ve been nothing more she would have wanted to do than give them something to celebrate, but she had nothing good to share. Just more questions and more tension.
It’s a strange, and indescribable experience to mourn the death of someone who has already died. This wasn’t grief she could go find a therapist to work through it with, or even any sort of comforting slew of nonsensical words like “She will always be watching over you,” or “She is in a better place.”
Because she wasn’t–not anymore. She was rotting for eternity with nothing but violence and misery to keep her company. There was no heaven or hell to pull her from the damnation someone else had bestowed upon her, no exit from the dark seep of her soul into otherness.
By the time night had come to weigh them all down with uncertainty of what tomorrow held–she was alone. Jungkook wasn’t laying on her floor this time to keep all of the phantom images from pervading her senses with the scent of death and images of torn flesh and hulking beasts, or the rough and inexorable hands reaching out to claw at her throat and chest. After her trip into the Paralrealm, he had been avoiding her. Whether it be from sheer exhaustion of what had happened, or if he felt some kind of shame for the way he wasn’t able to help her. Perhaps both of their minds were writhing in their own prisons of self inflicted pain that night.
She was tired, but not just the kind that thirsted for sleep.
Her feet dragged across the floor of her rug, back and forth in deep treading patterns and lines. She wanted to reach out to someone, but couldn’t bring herself to text them–she had shoved her problems on them enough.
Maybe if she would’ve just stayed away, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe her being here on the property made it worse, made it harder for them to fight it.
Y/n was standing at her bedroom door before she could gather what she was doing, the door pulled ajar and her back pressed to the doorframe. She slid to the floor, bringing her legs up to rest her chin on so she could stare undisrupted with cold unblinking eyes at the spot outside Yoongi’s door where her grandmother had been last. Willing the image into fruition and then molding it in her mind in some childish game of make pretend, picturing a million different endings to her memory.
That maybe if she had waited, and Jungkook hadn’t been so tired he could’ve grabbed her grandmother and saved her; or brought the hands of a reaper down to punish the child for their actions. That they would be still sitting in Yoongi’s room and protecting her grandmother from the others and the curse that plagued them.
In a mirror image of that morning, Taehyung ambled from the end of the hall towards their neighboring rooms; though this time his feet were much slower, and his eyes much heavier. His dark hair was sticking to his neck and forehead with dried sweat, and a glittering royal blue jacket was draped over the crook of his elbow from tonight's show. He hadn’t noticed her yet, for his head was kept low and his eyes downturned to watch each methodical step.
To Y/n’s surprise, he stopped right outside Yoongi’s door–right where her grandmother had been–and chewed at the inside of his cheek. In a sweeping motion, he brought his chocolate brown eyes to her door where they widened once he found hers staring up at him from her spot on the floor, having clearly not expected her to be there. They stayed that way, frozen in place while sizing each other up.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He deep voice rumbled from his chest, heavy at the ends with lassitude.
Y/n picked at the threads of her shorts, keeping her puffy eyes downturned and out of sight. “Shouldn’t you?”
It was quiet again, but not the kind of quiet solitude Y/n wanted. This one was tense and uncomfortable. She felt exposed with the way his eyes raked her figure, seeing a side of her she didn’t want him to see.
Taehyung jerked the sleeve of his black button up higher on his forearm to get a read on his watch, turning to regard her with a weary frown. “Cafe opens in twenty minutes. Wanna go for that coffee?”
_________________________________________
Coffee or not, there was some kind of peaceful reverie to be found in the Edelweiss cafe that morning. Sunday mornings weren’t as busy, only one worker carrying themselves around the counters and taking inventory for the day while the sun was still down. Y/n hadn’t even bothered getting dressed–and how that must’ve looked to anyone that happened to be walking by.
A beat down woman in cotton shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt, and Taehyung Kim, still dressed in his finest from his sold out show the night prior–quiet and brooding over steaming cups of tea. Under any other circumstances, Y/n would have enjoyed picking apart the version of Taehyung that sat in front of her: reserved, fatigued, and jaded. This version of himself intrigued her more than the flirty showman he put on, for here he looked real–a conundrum of mysterious yet lax, like if she asked one question he would unravel in her hands.
“Bad day?” Taehyung rasped first, watching the steam float from his untouched tea.
“You could say that…” Y/n mumbled, disinterestedly twirling a straw in her own brew.
Taehyung tilted his head to study her response, one of his long fingers tapping the smooth table beneath it, and his mouth quirking to one side as he pondered whatever it is he found so interesting in the way she looked.
“You know…” He began, his voice deep and airy. “I’m not unfamiliar with this–” He gestured to her with a pointed look, “ –My uncle often had bad days when he lived with me and my parents. I’d end up staying up late with him to keep him company through them. I know it’s uncomfortable or embarrassing, but you can always talk to me about it.”
Y/n furrowed her brows together and cocked her head to the side. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Taehyung anxiously licked his lips, his hand coming to twist his cup from side to side. “I’m not trying to overstep, and you don’t have to tell me anything–I just can’t not check in to make sure you’re okay.”
“Tae,” Y/n let out a heavy sigh, setting the straw to the side to rip at her napkin instead. “I really can’t grasp what you’re putting down here.”
“How about this.” He raised one unimpressed brow, clearly taking her confusion as a cover up for something he thought he saw; he took a tiny sip of his tea to clear his throat, letting his voice come out smoother after the honey and chamomile coated his tongue. “I’ll tell you something about me first–anything you want to know. Then in return, you tell me something about you.”
Y/n weighed his offer, finding it interesting enough to humor. “Fine.” Y/n sucked her bottom lip in, staring across at her table mate while she racked her brain for a question.
“Favorite color.”
Taehyung snorted, and gave a baffled shake of his head. “That’s what you want to know?”
Y/n shrugged timidly, the napkin in her hands now a pile of brown confetti.
“Emerald green, cadmium red, violet.” He listed off easily, slipping right into his own question. “What’s three things that make you happy?”
“Plants.” Y/n shot back without thinking. “My friends. Music.” Y/n settled on her last answer after some thought. “What drew you to performing?”
Taehyung blew his breath through his lips in a burst, “That’s a loaded question.” He untucked his shirt from his dress pants and undid the cuffs on his shirt as he spoke. “It’s always been what I’ve been good at, and it was easy to practice from home. Being able to sing and dance made people I cared about smile, and I liked that.” He lifted his cup to chew at the end of his straw, and leaned against the back of his chair with his attention only on her. “What is something you’re looking forward to? Something you can’t wait for it to happen? Planned out already or a daydream–doesn’t matter.”
This question stumped her. She hadn’t thought about anything other than the shit she was knee deep in with the hotel and her family–every move she made and any plans had been circling around unraveling whatever ball of knotted yarn this was. She chewed on her lip while she thought of an answer.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t really been thinking very far ahead lately.” She admitted, averting her eyes back to the table at her confession.
“Nothing at all? Not even a dream vacation or some bucket list item you have?” He pushed further.
“Well I guess I’ve always wanted to go on a really long road trip–like weeks long. I want to go around the country and really see things; take my time. Because of the hotel, we never really took long vacations, we always had to be back home after a few days.” Y/n shook her head at the ridiculousness of her next statement. “All this money and they don’t really use it for what people would expect us to: I’ve never left the country because my trip was canceled once my apprenticeship was tossed in the trash, and we only went to nearby beaches maybe a handful of times. This place has always been everything, it was all we ever needed.”
Taehyung hummed pensively, taking a swig from his cup and making a ‘come here’ motion with his hand. “Hit me.”
“They said you were from California–surely there were hundreds of opportunities out west. Why come here to Pennsylvania?” A safe question, Y/n suspected.
“Family,” Taehyung stated matter-of-factly. “My mom knew Jimin’s grandmother, and so we started visiting him occasionally to check in on him, and my mom absolutely fell in love with all of the trees and just how green it was by chance. Plus, if I can be blunt for a minute?” Taehyung looked up at her from the liquid in his cup.
“Be my guest.” Y/n motioned for him to continue.
“Money. My family wasn’t very well off growing up. My grandparents had fled to the United States looking for a ‘better life’ like a lot of people did during, before and after the war. They never learned English, and struggled to really find their place here–to feel welcomed–but they were determined to make it work.
My parents ended up taking care of both of them once they physically couldn’t work anymore, and my uncle full time while I was growing up. It put a big strain on them financially though they’d never admit it. I grew up watching them give everything they had to each other, and I just wanted to do the same for them.” He shook the cup in his hand, listening to the liquid slosh from side to side. “My mom really encouraged my creative side, but even as a kid I knew that the chance of that making me any money with it was mute. That was until we had spent a few weeks here in the winter, and I just knew I had to be here.” He smirked over the rim of his cup, pausing before his next sip for his next remark. “That and I knew you guys paid well after I heard some whispers through the grapevine from one mischievous tour guide.”
“Hmm, I wonder who that could be?” Y/n exhaled from her nose in place of a laugh, taking in his answer and letting it sink slowly into her brain.
“What’s a memory that makes you smile every time you think of it?” He was ready with his next question, like he had prepared these for an interview, and she was the shaking and sputtering potential employee trying to come up with the right answers.
“You keep making me think.” Y/n held a hand up to her forehead and let out a few nervous chuckles, squeezing her eyes closed to think.
“That’s the point.” Taehyung joined in on her soft laughter.
“You sure you guys will be alright here by yourselves?” Misuk asked for the fifth time, her hand coming up to fiddle with the elegant beaded necklace she wore over a sunset orange sundress.
She was eyeing up the gaggle of children nodding their heads eagerly back up at her with apprehension and up to the lawn in front of the guest house that was dotted with four brightly colored tents. The shapes of canvas and metal had been put together with the help of their dads, with multicolored sleeping bags and pastel stuffed animals piled inside to make them more homely. Y/n’s mother cut in, the sound of the old screen room door slamming pulling Misuk’s fretting towards the house.
“I packed real food, plenty of water bottles, and stocked the kitchen up with precut fruit and cereal for the morning.” Mariah stepped anxiously down the steps from the sunroom, an empty cooler bag in hand. “Please for the love of god, try and eat something other than s’mores tonight, and be asleep before the sun is up–capiche?” She walked up to all three of her children, planting large overexaggerated kisses onto each of their heads.
“Don’t hover–they’ll be fine!” Jeonghan, Hoseok’s father wrapped an arm around Misuk’s waist and jostled her to his side. “It’s just one night, and we are right down the road. Plus Hilga will be sleeping upstairs in the house in case of emergencies.” He gripped his wife’s shoulders with an encouraging shake. “We have to let them learn to grow!”
“Will there be bears? There’s no bears here right?” Misuk could still be heard fretting all the way to the back of the house where their car had been parked, a few of the parents already piled inside.
“Stay safe, little birds!” Y/n’s father Anslem saluted them as he sauntered off to the car to join them. “Y/n–keep an eye on your sisters!”
“You’re in charge, Seokjin!” His mother, Hana pointed at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “If Hilga is asleep you watch out for them!”
The children were a giggling mess the moment the first car left the dirt driveway. Of course the first thing on their agenda was tearing through the warm summer grass with bare feet. After bubble wands had been waved and tossed aside; three tumultuous rounds of freeze tag; badminton rackets and wiffle balls trampled on and discarded; and one round of duck duck goose to appease Matilda; there was a lull in their activities that the earth found a way to fill with its own wonders.
Under the sky’s coat of twilight, they cantered through the rolling hills and weeds to chase after the pulsing lights of lightning bugs as they began their drooping and lethargic bounce over the scene to say their greetings to the ones twinkling like string lights in the trees.
Without fail, what started as innocent play turned into a competition: the first metaphorical stone tossed by Y/n declaring she could catch the most at one time, and the rest ferociously lining up for the challenge.
“Here.” Jungkook would softly whisper to her as he passed one here and there to her palms against her will, looking across to her with blank eyes that blotted with softness at the edges.
Hoseok struggled the most–torn between winning and freaking out each time the insect’s tiny legs moved along the ridges of his hands. “I hate it!” He would shout, shaking them off in a frenzy before furrowing his brows in determination to try and pick up a few more.
He ended up running alongside Y/n, who would scoop up the ones he threw each time, her hands overflowing with the movement of effervescent lime, black and orange. Y/n only faltered once she heard the first sniffle from Matilda, her sudden absence from their side jarring her to a stop. Y/n found Matilda a few paces back, her face downturned to her empty hands where one bug had just lazily lifted off of their surface to soar out of reach.
“What’s wrong Gänse?” Y/n scampered back to her side, out of breath with both hands clamped closed around her treasure.
Matilda’s lower lip jutted out, her chin wrinkled with dejection as she watched its departure. “I can’t catch any.”
Y/n frowned, surveying the rest of the kids' strategies. Yoongi was seated in one spot, his hands coming up to cup around the bugs that floated idly by with calm control; Hoseok was lingering besides them, his body taut with discomfort from the three bugs he had successfully carried for longer than two minutes; Jin was leading Jimin on a blazing trail through the grasses to unsettle all of the bugs that had landed at their feet into clouds of light for them to swipe into; Namjoon was sitting around the unlit campfire as the volunteer to keep Amelia company, who vehemently despised lightning bugs but was also too anxious to be by herself.
Y/n leaned back into her sister’s face that had started to bulge with how hard she was keeping in her tears. “How about I show you some tips? We just have to find how you catch them best.” Y/n wiggled her brows and giggled.
“Okay!” Matilda immediately lit up with childlike eagerness, her hands flapping in excitement,
“Tip number one,” Y/n gestured to Hoseok with her elbow. “Hobi always drops them, so stick by him.”
“Hey! I’m not going to this time!” Hoseok defended, though the way he bristled as one buzzed against his cupped palm said otherwise.
Y/n ignored his complaints, her steps picking up speed towards Yoongi. “Tip number two, if you’re not fast, try doing what he does.” They approached his seated form with slow steps so as to not disturb his methods. “See?”
“I can be fast if I want to be.” Yoongi scrunched his face, keeping his voice low. “I just don’t want to be.”
“Not as fast as me!’ Hoseok stuck his tongue down at him in a taunt. “I’m the running champion!”
Yoongi glared up at him, his face pinching together in irritation then releasing with a wide grin of realization. “You have one on your face!”
Hoseok screeched out in terror, his hands splaying open to release the few bugs he had trapped to swat at his face while Yoongi bellowed with laughter, his face lit up from below by the glow of his palms.
“Get them Gänse!” Y/n shouted through her laughter. Matilda only added to Hoseok’s panic, her smaller hands jumping to grab at his hands and face to sweep them into her palms while he hopped about to free himself of their tiny feet and fluttering wings before taking off to streak across the grass in his escape.
Unfortunately for her, Hoseok's flailing sent them all scattering out of reach, and another pout made its home on her mouth.
“I’ll never catch any.” The tears sprung back into her eyes and she crossed her tiny arms over her chest, kind of assumed absolute only a child was capable of.
“Here,” Yoongi sighed, sensing the oncoming meltdown and tapped the ground next to him with his bent knee, “I’ll show you how I do it.”
The girls sat on either side of the boy, and he demonstrated his sure fire way of scooping them up into a small hole he made with his fingers like the mouth of a whale–making Matilda giggle when he made low exaggerated gulps with each bug he caught. It took a few tries, but after a few minutes Matilda finally made her first successful catch.
“I did it!” She leapt into the air with a shout of victory, sending some of Yoongi’s next victims in all directions and tossing her clasped hands around his neck in gratitude. “Thank you Yoongs!”
“You did congrats. Now scram before you make me lose all of mine!” He tried to shove her off, though he couldn’t hide the way the corners of his mouth lifted with pride.
The two girls ran off to find Hoseok where he had joined in on Jin and Jimin’s stampeding, his ‘champion run’ stirring up the most bugs; his lithe form darting in wide circles with his arms spread out while Jimin and Jin ran about within its borders to catch as many as they could.
“Can we join?” Matilda tapped at Jin’s shorts with her fist, looking up at him with big pleading eyes.
Jin smiled, warm and inviting, and without hesitation. “Sure!”
Jungkook had joined in from where he had disappeared into the treeline to grab the stragglers, and five of them leapt about the grass while Hoseok took pride in his job of disturbing them with his lightning speed, Matilda doing her best to keep up with the older children.
Y/n took off to help Jimin, who had taken a bit of a fall after he jumped to catch one that was too high, leaving Matilda under Jungkook’s supervision, his quiet voice droning to her: “You want some of mine? I have a lot…”
“You okay Jimin?” Y/n asked him, but he was already rising to his knees.
“Yeah I’m fine.” Jimin blushed crimson, avoiding her eyes with a shy tug at his shirt. “I just tripped, that’s all.”
Y/n gasped, her eyes widening at his now empty hands. “You lost your bugs!”
“Oh.” Jimin frowned down at the place they used to be, then smoothed it out with a melancholy smile. “It’s alright. I probably wouldn’t win anyways.”
Y/n pressed her lips together, tightly with a shake of her head. “You can take some of mine.”
“You don’t have to–”
Y/n had already opened her palms to the wriggling mess of insects within, rushing Jimin to scoop some into his own. “ Nobody left behind here with us, remember?”
Jimin grinned softly down at his now glowing fists. “Yeah, right.”
“Did you just give him some?!” Jin sputtered out from behind her. “That’s cheating!”
“You can have one of mine then!” Matilda chirped, coming up to his side. “Jungkook gave me hundreds of them!” She grinned up at him, the small handful of bugs she held nowhere near such an enormous number, but to her she felt just as rich.
“O-okay…” Jin flushed as Matilda passed him two of her own, unable to turn down such a kind and innocent face.
In the end, everyone ended up passing each other bugs in some wild contrast between caring for one another but still wanting to win. Though it came as no surprise when Jungkook still reigned as the final champion, somehow his reserved yet resolute manner had his hands overflowing–even after giving up so many of them to Matilda, Y/n and Jimin.
The conclusion of their competition was celebrated by her aunt Hilga carrying out a bucket of roasting spits, a jumbo bag of marshmallows and a bulk pack of chocolate bars. She stayed only to help them light the fire pit, before giving them one final warning to be careful and disappearing into the screened-in sunroom with her feet up on the table and a glass of sweet tea.
Within thirty minutes, the bag was ripped open with over half of the confections devoured, all nine of the children sprawled on chairs and log benches with sticky faces and fingers coated with melted sugar. The worst of it being on Matilda’s, and Jin had designated himself to grab a wet paper towel to rub at the smears of chocolate and marshmallow on her cheeks and between her fingers with a parental nature while Jungkook over saw holding her braids out of the way for the cloth.
“You got some too, Ducky!” Hoseok chortled from the side Jungkook wasn’t on, using a separate napkin to swipe at her cheeks.
Y/n smacked his hands away, grabbing the towel from his hands. “I got it–you’re going to take my face off!” Hoseok just laughed, pressing his knee against hers in his usual manner–he was known for his lack of spatial awareness, his knees and elbows taking up more room than he needed.
Jimin was still fidgeting across the flames, the only people he was the most comfortable enough to sit between being Jungkook and Jin for the time being. Though he looked like he wanted to join in on the closeness and banter (though unbeknownst to him he would, in almost no time at all), but for now he was content just watching, offering sweet smiles and laughter when expected of him.
The night dwindled to a close, Yoongi extinguished the fire and they all lent a hand in dragging their tents into a tight circle, the doors left open for them to chatter idly with one another as they all trickled off to sleep to the sound of fluttering bats, singing crickets and distant hoots of owls.
Y/n's tent consisted of her and her three sisters, Amelia having already nodded off in the back with an arm around a snoring Matilda, facing away to block her eyes from the lanturn they had turned on in the middle of their huddle. Next to them was Jin and Jimin, the younger one of the two passed out with his head out of the tent. Having said that, Jin wasn’t faring any better–his head jolting forward into the clutches of sleep while he fought to keep watch over the stragglers.
Hoseok and Namjoon were next, the latter tucked into a plant encyclopedia and the former half out of his tent propped on his elbows, mirroring the way Y/n was (and Jimin had been) so they could keep whispering nonsensical tales and spooky stories to each other across the gaps. Yoongi was in his and Jungkook’s shared tent with the door half closed, while Jungkook kept his head propped on his elbow, his dark eyes zeroing in to silently listen to whoever spoke next, never offering up any conversation of his own but simply enjoying being included. However his own head had dropped minutes before, soft snores escaping his mouth against the skin of his arms.
Hoseok had gone silent and Y/n assumed he had fallen asleep, finding herself listening to the soft puffs of all of her friends breathing that surrounded her.
“Hobi?” She whispered, her thoughts already resigning herself to being the last one standing besides the evidently struggling Jin.
“Hmm?” Hoseok slurred, turning his head to gaze over her with red rimmed eyes from sleep, his head still laying flat against the entrance of his tent.
“Are you awake?”
She heard shuffling of cloth against canvas, and saw him pick his head up to look at her with hair that stuck up in all directions. “Yea.”
Y/n giggled, he had clearly fallen asleep. “Do you think we will be friends forever?”
“Of course I do.” Hoseok gave her the best serious face he could muster. “You can't get rid of me that easily. You’re stuck with me.”
Y/n smiled, letting her head fall onto her folded arms as they looked across from each other, Hoseok letting his head fall back against his arms to mime her position. Their faces cast with a dim yellow glow from the lanturn and the moths that spotted its surface to throw shadows over the children. “Good. Because I want to do this forever and ever.”
“Me too.” Hoseok sighed out, succumbing to the slumber he fought so hard to stay out of.
Y/n drifted in and out of consciousness, only remembering the looming shape of Jin as he went around to lift her head into her tent and secure the door closed, repeating the motion with Hoseok and Jungkook before turning out the lantern and sliding into his own tent. The last thing she heard was the zip of their tent door, and Y/n let herself finally drift off to sleep.
“That sounds like it was a good time.” Taehyung remarked, his eyes amiable and easy-going.
Y/n gave a tight lipped smile, her throat suddenly feeling tight with the visions of the past. “It was.”
That was one of the memories she had replayed over a thousand times during her time away at school, like an aged VHS tape that had gone frayed with how many times she had rewound it just to watch it again. She had thought that she had worked through all of the feelings it brought on in crushing waves of grief–and she had–until a new layer was added from the night prior. The image of Hoseok’s sleep-muddled face as he whispered words of commitment to her left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Crazy to think that Jimin used to be shy.” Taehyung chuckled, sensing a shift in mood and trying to redirect her thoughts back to something pleasant.
That managed to pull a snort from Y/n, and she brought her own lukewarm tea to her mouth for a tiny sip. “It only took him a few months after that for him to really find his place with us. Then he became just as shameless and clingy as he is now. Goodluck trying to find that old Jimin now–if you want to see him you’ll have to find some witch to put a spell on him or something–find a private investigator. That man is gone.”
Taehyung let out a full bellied laugh, the sound cutting through his exhaustion and lighting up the room. “Oh completely gone.”
Y/n cracked a small smile, trying to come up with her next question for the man in front of her, finding herself lost in his alluring aura and the true unfiltered image of him she was seeing at an ungodly time of night (or day depending on your perspective of things).
“Out of questions already?” Taehyung recentered himself, letting out a fake sigh of disappointment.
“Am not,” Y/n rebuked, taking a risk with her next question, “In fact I just thought of one now.” Y/n leant across the table, sliding her cup closer to his. “What makes you a skeptic? Religion? Upbringing?”
Taehyung cleared his throat and squeezed his lips together, and it became apparent to Y/n that the question was much riskier than she had expected–his face taking on a shade of discomfort she had never seen from him before.
Y/n felt shame fester beneath the surface of her subconscious, the extended silence between them growing stifling. “Sorry if that’s a sensitive topic. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable–I can think of a different one.”
“It’s fine.” Taehyung gnawed at his bottom lip, drawing in a heavy breath. “Do you want my real answer or do you want an easy answer?”
“Real.” Y/n breathed out before she had even realized she had opened her mouth.
He nodded, and leaned his weight onto his elbows at the edge of the table. “I could give you an answer about science or data or whatever–but it’d be a lie. And I don’t feel like lying today.”
Y/n swallowed, looking up at him with unwavering curiosity–one of her fatal flaws.
“My uncle–as I’ve previously mentioned–lived with us full time when I was growing up. I’m really close to him, and he became like a second father to me. I think about him a lot when I’m practicing or playing music.” Taehyung recalled, his eyes taking on a more distant appearance as if watching his own memories fly by. “I used to perform for him all of the time because it helped calm him down. Every show—every recital I had–he was there, front and center.”
“He really struggled.” Taehyung shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “Mentally I mean.” He clarified, his eyes scanning Y/n’s face for any signs of how she was responding, but she gave none–just patiently waiting for him to share whatever he wished to.
“We could never afford to get him an official diagnosis when I was younger, but we knew something was troubling him. He’d talk about being watched and his moods would flip dramatically–he was completely unpredictable. One moment he’d be how I knew him best: caring, supportive, great at telling jokes, and a kickass chef. The next he would go into these,” Taehyung brought his hand up to wind in aimless circles, “episodes. He would become irrational and talk of seeing people watching him from behind doors and curtains, that there were people coming to get him, or accuse my dad of stealing something of his or lying. Things he genuinely believed were true. Things that genuinely distressed him.
“It was scary sometimes. Not him–he never scared me really–but the situations he could put himself in were scary. On multiple occasions he would disappear overnight, and we wouldn’t be able to find him until morning once we were able to get some neighbors involved. We couldn’t call the police whenever it happened because we didn’t know what state he would be in at any given time, and we didn’t want them to think he was a threat when he was actually just probably scared and upset.
“After the first instance we had to install cameras around the house and trackers into his phone, and we did our best to learn what helped him manage and cope with these episodes without medical intervention. Pretty much all of my paychecks from the first six months I worked here went to getting him into a psychiatrist, and putting him on medication after he checked all of the boxes for Schizophrenia–and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I get to see him be more at peace with himself now. And while he still has good and bad days, it’s much easier on him and that’s all I could’ve ever asked for.” Taehyung licked his lips and brought his eyes down to avert her gaze.
“Wow. Tae that's…” Y/n breathed, unsure of what to say.
“A lot, I know. Not as simple as being a man of science.” He let out a dry chuckle “But let me circle back to the original question, because all of that was relevant–I swear I’m not just dumping on you for no reason.” He shifted in his seat, his demeanor becoming more confident.
“I’m a skeptic because I think the human mind is vast, and complicated. I think it can be dangerous to feed too much into the idea that there are mystical things we can’t see or explain, especially seeing first hand how many people tried to ‘pray’ for my uncle or suggest that what he was going through was good because he was talking to angels or some other bullshit.” His head cocked to the side quickly in a short burst of irritation. “I know they mean well, but if that was the only people he had been surrounded by, he would’ve never gotten the care he needed and would still be struggling. I personally prefer to keep my feet grounded in reality as much as I can.”
“I’m sorry I asked–I should’ve just let it be.” Y/n deflated, feeling like she had forced him to be too vulnerable too quickly.
“Don’t be sorry, I’m proud to talk about him.” Taehyung fixed her with an honest look. “He is one of the best people I know.”
Y/n looked at him, taking in the way his eyes flashed with love and passion at the mere mention of his uncle and felt warmth bloom in her chest with admiration. “What was your favorite thing that he cooked?” Y/n inquired.
Taehyung looked at her blankly, before his face lit up with understanding and mirth. “He made a mean braised short rib when we could afford to buy it.”
“Sounds delicious.” Y/n smiled at him over the lip of her cup. “What else?”
She spent a good half hour getting lost in the way Taehyung described all of the wonderful foods his uncle (who Y/n learned was named Yeongjae) used to cook for him. Y/n could almost taste each dish with how well Taehyung depicted the texture and flavor, and felt as though she was sitting at the table with them as he retold his favorite memories that surrounded each dish.
After a while, a few guests that were begrudgingly awake had wandered in and out of the cafe to leave with tired eyes and hands full of food and drinks to take up the elevator to their families–though it felt like they were on a different plane entirely. The two of them were lost in a world of scratched wooden tables, ugly overhead lamps from the seventies and a story about when his uncle had made too many dumplings–her hands aching in phantom pains from the laborious efforts Taehyung had gone through to help him fill and fold them all.
She enjoyed the small bubble her and Taehyung had created. It felt safe.
Safe from the horrors that everyone else was wrapped up in, like he was a breath of normalcy that helped her forget that there would be things she needed to face when she returned to her room. And she relished in it, going as far as to slide her hand across the table and let their fingers engage in a delicate dance of just barely ghosting each other as they fiddled with their cups. It felt normal, and she liked it.
“I guess it’s my turn to ask you another question.” Taehyung crushed his empty cup in his hand and played with the crumpled ball.
“Oh shit–yeah I guess so.” Y/n laughed lightly. “Go right ahead.”
“Are you feeling a bit better now?”
Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes locked with Taehyung’s prodding yet beautiful ones, a knowing look dancing within their brown confines. She swallowed, a new type of warmth spreading throughout her chest and into her cheeks. He had done this for her.
“Yes. I am.” Y/n nodded, enjoying the boxy grin that spread across his face in response.
“Good.” He let the hand resting on the table start to play with her fingers. “If you ever have any other bad days, I’m just across the hall. Whenever you need me.”
_________________________________________
Y/n had spent almost her entire Sunday in and out of sleep (save for the ten minutes she took to watch the live stream sent to her email of Jimin walking across a stage in his cap and gown). Thoughts of finding Bear, her grandmother, and her friends leaving her unable to get any restful sleep.
There was still no word from either Hoseok or Jin–and a small voice at the back of her head even wondered if they knew she was still alive. That voice was one she had to squash each time it tried to weasel its way into the forefront of her mind, because it was something she couldn’t even begin to humor.
To make matters worse, whenever she had seen Jungkook that day, he looked like he was split down the middle–constantly oscillating between looking at her expectantly, brows knit and eyes piercing; or like he couldn’t bear to look at her at all. Y/n had to tell herself that it had everything to do with how he was handling his own processing of his jump in power, or else she was worried about what any other reality might possibly do to her mental state at that moment.
At long last, Yoongi called her into his room with a simple text message. Though it struck her as odd that it was a private text and not to their group chat–she still obliged–grateful to have any excuse to escape the confines of her room without having to cope with Jungkook’s confusing stares.
[Zoltar]: Hop on over when you have a minute. No rush if you’re sleeping.
The sun had gone down by now, and she readied herself for another session by already having Yoongi’s necklace clasped around her neck, and one of her own pillows tucked under her arm. She couldn’t look down at the carpet as she quickly rounded the corner to find his door already cracked open for her to walk right in–the courtesy of knocking forfeited.
“Yoongi?” Y/n poked her head in, itching to get out of the hallway and into his room and closing the door gently behind her.
He was seated at his desk, a pair of headphones shoved over his ears and his pencil working to shade a section of his paper. Y/n wasn’t sure if he could hear her, or if he had even expected her to come over so quickly–he had probably assumed she was still sleeping anyways.
“Yoongs?” She tried again, her hand coming out to tap his shoulder.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He leapt almost a foot off of his chair, ripping his headphones from his head and looking up at her with wide eyes.
“You’re the one that invited me here!” Y/n couldn’t help but snicker at his reaction, earning a very flat glare from him. “I called for you but you didn’t answer.”
“Yeah and I thought you were asleep!” He clutched at his chest to calm his racing heartbeat, scrambling to pause the music that pulsed through his dropped headset. His eyes caught the pillow in her hand, and he paused, flicking them up to her quizzically. “What’s that for?”
“For when I drink the tea again.” Y/n stated as if it were obvious. “Isn’t that what I’m here for?”
“Not exactly.” Yoongi sighed, dropping his pencil into the cylindrical holder at the corner of his desk and turning his chair to face her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Jeez, don't sound so grave.” Y/n grunted from the back of her throat, but the look on his face told her he wasn’t in a joking mood.
“It’s about the psychic stuff.” He started slowly, taking his time to ease the words from his mouth and gauging her reaction with each one.
No, she thought to herself, don’t you dare. She settled for a quick “What about it?” instead, feeling it was more appropriate. For now.
He quickly brought his hands up in surrender. “Before you bite my head off, I’m not telling you to quit. So get that out of your head because I can see it swimming there.”
Y/n released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and lowered herself onto his bed, drawing out the end of her words to raise into a question. “Okay…?”
“It’s about the next steps. About who we see next.” He swallowed thickly, and started to pick at the skin of his arms as he folded them over one another.
“Bear, obviously.” Y/n stated, unsure of where he was going.
“Yes–I know Bear.” Yoongi nodded a bit too quickly, wetting his lips twice in succession. “But I think there’s someone else we need to see first. That I need to see first.”
Y/n tried to wrack her brain for who else could be as important at the moment, but couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer. “Who? Matilda?”
“Well yes but not yet.” Yoongi looked everywhere but her, his foot tapping aggressively at the floor.
“Yoongi I swear to god, just spit it out.” Y/n begged, her hands squeezing the pillow in her hands. “You’re being weird and it's freaking me out.”
Yoongi finally looked at her, his eyes spearing through her to get a read on how she was feeling–a look she was beginning to recognize on his face. “I want to see my grandfather. I need to see him. There was something really important that he had tried to tell me before he died but I didn’t listen–and I think it’s relevant now.”
Y/n scrunched her face up, blinking in bewilderment. “Why were you scared to tell me that? I wouldn’t be mad or anything.”
Yoongi heaved a sigh, dispersing some of his anxieties into the air between them, his mutterings so low she almost couldn't hear it. “It’s not you I’m worried about…”
“Who are you worried about?” Y/n tilted her head, giving him a once over.
“The kid–Jungkook.”
Y/n wanted to laugh–she really did–the idea of Yoongi being scared of Jungkook was too funny of a tease to pass up. But any sounds that had started to bubble up from her lips were silenced by the way his legs shook with agitation, and his eyes turned icy, shutting her up immediately.
“Why would you be scared of him?” Y/n breathed out, now at a loss.
“Because I fucked up.” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, leaving it more wild than before. “I fucked up with him a couple years ago after you had left.”
“I can’t imagine it could’ve been that bad…” Y/n tried to ease into the conversation, but even she couldn’t quell the spirit of inquiry that livened within herself. She knew something must have happened between the two of them for Jungkook to be so volatile when she had first returned–she had just assumed it was her mom’s wedge that she had put between them and never thought to ask any further.
“Well you weren’t there.” Yoongi whispered.
“Then explain it to me.” She instinctively brought one of her hands out to lay over one of his own, feeling the way his skin flexed over his knuckles when they tried to pick at his skin with more fervor. “I think my turn to be your therapist is long overdue anyways.”
“After you left–like I said before I knew something was wrong. Your mom wasn’t breaking, and I was only just diving into the occult. I needed help to get answers and I knew where I wanted to go for it first.”
“Jungkook.” Y/n affirmed, letting her fingers curl around his palm to stop their nervous onslaught.
“Yeah. I asked him to help me find G-min–to go into the spirit realm and find him so I could ask him questions. Ask him about all of his nonsensical ramblings and the messed up ink drawings he would lose himself in every day. And selfishly, I wanted to just see him one more time like Jungkook got to.” Yoongi stared daggers into his desk like it was the most despicable thing in existence. “He trusted me. Maybe even a bit too much.
I was so blinded with rage at your parents, and residual grief that I pushed Jungkook harder even when he asked me if we could stop. And he listened. Followed me blindly because that’s just who he is–and I abused his trust. Pushed him too far for my own gain and wish to prove your mom wrong and catch her in her lies.”
“What happened to him?” Y/n whispered, now twining her fingers one by one in between his own.
“I was an amateur with this stuff and in over my head with it all. I didn’t use the right combination or the right wards for what I was doing, and was only able to get myself just to the precipice of the other side when he collapsed into a heap. His eyes were stuck black and open, and he couldn’t see anything but ghosts. I couldn’t get him out and it scared the shit out of him–rightfully so.” Yoongi’s voice grew muddy and wet. “And then I had the audacity to ask him again. Then we fought and called each other some nasty shit. I had to switch rooms with Hoseok because we just couldn’t bear to see each other for a while. Only added fuel to the fire of pointed fingers and rumors your mom threw at me, and everyone just started assuming I was some devil worshipper or necromancer and that I’m the one causing all the crazy shit.”
Y/n let out a shaky breath, letting him have a few moments after his confession to settle his mind. “Did anyone still talk to you after?”
Yoongi barked a humorless laugh. “That’s funny. What do you think? You’ve seen how everyone acts around me. Namjoon was kind enough to actually listen after a year or so, though I could tell until you got here that he was doubtful of my true intentions. I think he listened more so for his own benefit, so we could join heads when it came to protection and stuff.”
“If no one else believes there’s something to be worried about, why would they care? ” Y/n gripped his hand tighter within his own, hoping to convey the sympathy she felt for him in her bone crushing hold.
“Because knowing something is happening and believing something is happening are two very different things. Knowing is passive. You can move on with your day when you just know something, pretend that merely dismissing it into the back crevices of your mind with the rest of the trivial facts you know means it’s not a problem. Whereas believing means you can’t deny it, you can’t avoid it. You don’t sit by and look away when things get sticky, you stand up and you push back–because you believe it’s the right thing to do. But because I was the only one, I was the odd one out. I was the enemy they chose to focus on.” Yoongi radiated waves of indignation, the heat smothering Y/n with their fury with each word he seethed through his teeth. “It’s a lot easier to just blame me than to stand up and face the reality that they are enabling. They would rather rot in a place of comfort than fight through something that could make them uncomfortable.”
Y/n didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say to undo the mess that had been made, or the lines that had been crossed. Y/n just let herself say what she thought, and hoped that something from it would stick.
“I for one, believe you. I believe that you are good.” Y/n used her other hand to trace comforting shapes on the back of Yoongi’s. “I wish I never would have walked out, I would’ve been able to help you from the start of all of this so you weren’t alone in all of this.”
“You came back. That’s what matters. ” Yoongi let out a puff of air, doing what he could to limit any anger from seeping into his words. “I had started doing this all mostly for you anyways, so I can’t be angry with how you handled it. And unfortunately if I hold grudges and keep everyone out, I’d have no one left.” A small melancholy smile curved the edges of his mouth, his last phrase coming out in an attempted joke. “It’s better to have them on my side now even if that means swallowing my pride sometimes.”
Y/n wanted to join in on the jest, never turning down an opportunity to tease Namjoon—but she couldn’t move past something he had slipped in in the middle of his response that had something unfamiliar, something new curling under her skin and flowing through her blood stream. Something suffocating and freeing at the same time.
“You did all that for me?”
Yoongi’s head shot up to meet her gaze, his eyes unwavering and his ears twinged pink. “Of course I did. What they did was unfair to you, and if we all just stand by and let it happen to one person it's only a matter of time before they get comfortable enough to do it to us. No one left behind and all that bullshit.”
Y/n felt tears well in her eyes, and for the first time in the past few days they weren’t because of something tumultuous–it was because she felt utterly amazed, loved, and supported. She felt seen.
“I don’t care what nonsense they say about you. You are amazing, Yoongi Min.” She launched herself forwards, holding him close for the second time that weekend–probably the most they’ve hugged in almost a decade. “I’ll talk to Jungkook for you. He could never hate you–not forever anyways. We will figure out how to get you to G-min.”
He didn’t fight it this time or falter, he let himself melt into her hold and grip her around her middle with just as much enthusiasm as she held him. She wondered when the last time someone had held him like this would’ve been–probably the Christmas she had left, or whenever his parents had been in the country. They really did have more in common than it had seemed, she noted, letting the small shudders of his shoulders and the single tiny sniffle that slipped out of his mouth just loud enough for her to hear go without comment. Rather focusing on carding one of her hands through his dark hair, and holding onto him tightly with the reminder that she did care–that she would still love him even if no one else would.
_________________________________________
[Morning Glory 🌼]: <image>
[Morning Glory 🌼]: I forgot to send this on Saturday. Look at this message that popped up in my family tree portal. Suspicious?
[Jungkook ⚫⚫ 🔪]: Jimin?
[Joon 🌱] : Are you sure you didn’t write that and forget?
[Morning Glory 🌼]: Of course not Joon 🙄 I would know if I wrote something like that.
[Morning Glory 🌼]: That’s what I’m thinking, Kook.
[Joon 🌱]: 🤷Sometimes you forget things.
[Morning Glory 🌼]: Not anything like that, dingus 😑 Why would I apologize to myself for snooping????
[Joon 🌱]: I’ve heard you have full conversations with yourself at the greenhouse, how am I supposed to know?
[Morning Glory 🌼]: Ugh. Yoongi, anything insightful to offer?
It had been almost two hours since she had sent the last message, and she couldn’t help but check her phone every second she could in between taking care of the gardens and greenhouse plants. Although still tormented by waves of headaches that now just become a part of her everyday, she couldn’t just say she might have worsened her concussion without raising any eyebrows. Thus she found herself tasked with easy jobs like watering and pest checks, or organizing the collected plants for the upcoming Spring pop up event the coming weekend into tall vases as they came in.
It wasn’t like Yoongi not to respond. Maybe he was actually caught up in work for once? Y/n chortled at the thought the moment it rounded the corners of her brain, knowing that while he was a hard worker, he didn’t love his job enough to get lost in it for longer than thirty minute increments.
A light tapping on the glass of the green house door pulled Y/n from the hunched shape she had taken to trim off any of the suckers that had sprouted from their tomato plants. She shucked off her gloves and tossed them onto the wooden table in the entrance room, unlatching the door to face who she suspected to be one of the high school kids here to help pick flowers dropping off another load.
A small slip of paper was thrust into her face, fluttering down for Y/n to scramble to catch as it flipped in somersaults. No one stood at the door (no one she could see at least), but a faint whiff of gunpowder and dirt drifted from the paper, leaving her with only one guess at who the messenger could possibly be.
“Tree man?” Y/n beckoned, craning her neck out of the door.
The grass rustled a few feet to her left where two boot prints indented into it, stilling at her call.
“Thank you for the other day.” Y/n grimaced at how awkward she sounded and how crazy she must’ve looked talking to nothing, but didn’t let the feeling get to her too much. “I appreciate it.”
There was no verbal response, but the boot prints lingered for a few seconds longer before taking off in a sprint towards the woods. She took that as a sign of acknowledgement, and shut the door hastily to keep from bringing in attention from anyone else.
She thumbed the small rectangular slip in her fingers, flicking it open with her thumbnail and reading the neat scrawl on its surface.
“Can we talk? Historical society, 2pm. Please bring more of the stuff Namjoon had given me if you can.”
~Jimin
Y/n kept the note tucked in her apron the rest of the morning unless she was taking it out to show Namjoon, the pads of her fingers constantly running over the flimsy edges and the divots made from the pen. She restrained herself from texting him, for if that had been a safe option that would’ve probably been his first choice.
2pm couldn't have come at any slower of a pace. Jungkook came by that afternoon to escort her to the building, still giving her the same whirlwind of stares and brooding lip bites as the day prior–she was going to lose her mind if he didn’t just spit out whatever was bothering him and soon.
One thing at a time, she told herself as the front door to the historical building came into view, steeling herself to be ready for whatever was to come.
“I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave. I’ll try to make sure it’s still within your lunch break, so I wont dilly dally.” She adjusted the plastic bag of dried herbs Namjoon had gathered for her on her arm, turning to give Jungkook one last look, one last chance to pull himself out of whatever funk he found himself in.
He cast his gaze up into the trees, floating his eyes to follow the bees and dragonflies that zoomed overhead. “Okay.”
Y/n exhaled sharply from her nose, but didn’t push it. If something was bothering him, he would only run further if pushed, and she would just have to wait until he was ready to confront it in his own time. She didn’t even make it to the awning, her boots barely scuffing the surface of the cool stone in front of the door when it was thrown open and she was yanked through it with a yelp.
“Jimin! Are you–”
He whirled on her, a finger pressed to his lips and his eyes imploring her to listen. Y/n swept her gaze over his face–rested, yet intense–his dirty blonde hair swept up from his forehead with how many times he had run his hands through it. He lowered his hand and used it to push open the second door once he was sure she understood his request for silence.
Jimin steered them forwards through the entrance room and weaved them through the main exhibition dome–the art that lined the walls of the lengthy hall that led to his office passing by in blurs of color and lines. He had yet to speak a single word when they stumbled into his office, though he turned to face her again the moment the door was closed with an outstretched hand, his fingers making a childish ‘gimme’ motion towards the bag.
Y/n thrust it into his arms and watched as he tore through its contents, frantically grabbing handfuls and stuffing fistfuls of dried lavender, rosemary, basil and garden sage into a stone bowl waiting at the center of his table.
He rounded the table with purpose, swiping a pack of matches from the opposite end and fishing one out with quick-moving fingers. Striking it across the lip of the box, he dropped it into the pile of foliage until their edges started to singe with orange embers and weep wisps of smoke. He snuffed the end, lifting the bowl into his hands and wafting the smoke around the room until the scent enveloped them in its earthy and fragrant aroma.
He set the bowl down back at the center of the table, letting it burn away unbothered. Y/n took it as her moment to speak up.
“Can we tal–”
Jimin held up one hand, his eyes blown out wide and frantically mouthing a ‘Wait!’ He jutted his head in all directions, patting down his pockets in search of something that he appeared to have misplaced.
With newfound enthusiasm, he skipped over to one of his lounge chairs, snatching up something from the crack between the cushions and shaking about with vigor.
After a few seconds of ear splitting jangling, Y/n was able to see that it was a golf ball sized round bell that he was shaking as though his life depended on it in each corner of the room. He discarded it into his pocket, and flicked on his record player to drown out the way his dress shoes clacked against the floor all the way to his desk. One of his drawers opened with a groan of aged wood against metal, and he clenched his teeth together with the effort it took to remain silent while he fumbled a small stick of frankincense into a ceramic holder, lighting it the same way he had done to the bowl of leaves.
The scent recognition was immediate–the familiar smell that had been wafting about his office that she hadn’t been able to place during her last visit was the incense he was burning–the same incense Yoongi had given her to burn in her room as needed.
Jimin stood taut, hovering over the burning twig with visible impatience. He was practically shaking–his brow irked and quivering, and his hands gripping at the edge of his desk with white knuckles. Only when the smoke curled up into relaxed whisps did he glide across the floors to engulf her in his arms, pressing his face into her shoulder and knocking the air from her lungs.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t say goodbye–I wanted to. They came to get me way earlier than expected and I knew it’d be too risky.” Jimin finally broke the dam, rocking them back and forth in a small circle.
“It’s okay! I figured as much.” Y/n struggled to pull herself away enough to gesture to the herbs with her chin. “What’s all this? Jimin please tell me you can tell me something.”
His amber eyes turned resolute, and he nodded eagerly. “I can. But I only have until they burn out to talk. Once they are snuffed, we have to go back to normal discussion or silence.”
“Then you better start talking Jimin Park or god so help me–”
“I can hear them. The spirits.” Jimin’s words spilled from his mouth like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. “I can hear them all of the time–all day every day. It never stops. I got used to tuning them out so long ago that I never bothered listening to anything they were saying until it was too late.” He took both hands to cradle her face in his hands, his eyes scanning her eyes. “They lie a lot. Saying anything they can to try and keep my attention for anything longer than a few seconds. Usually it’s vulgar or violent nonsense–but after I saw the bruising on your neck, I couldn’t help but start to crack. Then with what happened in the kitchen I just-”
“You know about Hadwin? And what happened in the kitchen?” Y/n gasped, her hands sliding up to grip at his forearms.
“I do now, yes. I’m so unbelievably sorry for not listening to them sooner–maybe I could’ve helped you.” Jimin shook with emotion, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry for being so cryptic–but a telephone works both ways. If I can hear them, they can hear me. Word travels incredibly fast to people you don’t want to be involved with when there are hundreds of ears waiting to ingest everything you say and spit it out to whoever can listen. It’s why I tried to get you to talk to me first, at the very least I could keep my responses vague and unassuming if you were the one doing all of the talking.”
“Holy shit Jimin.” Y/n pulled away from him, her mouth blubbering with what to say next. “I don’t even know where to begin. I have so many questions I don’t know what to ask first.”
“Any of them. Ask me any of them and I’ll do my best to answer.” Jimin grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the small plush loveseat near his reading area and tugged her down to sit next to him.
Y/n had so many questions fighting for dominance in her mouth, that she ended up blurting out the first one that stuck–though it wasn’t one she cared for. She just needed to break the ice. “What were you saying about Taehyung when we were on our date? What was that?”
Jimin bellowed out with melodic laughter, tucking her close to his side with a timid swipe of his tongue across his lower lip. “It was a lousy attempt at trying anything to get you to understand that I can hear things. The night at the Adelaide, you came out of the greenroom looking like you’d seen a ghost and I figured it was Bea–she calls Taehyung the new egg anytime she brings him up.”
“The name’s Bea.” The woman stood far shorter than Y/n, and took graceful strides towards where she stood, stopping a few feet away and holding out a gloved hand. “The bee’s knees of the Adelaide. Though the new egg is quite the snazzy showman if you ask me.”
“Taehyung is a good egg, isn’t he?” He blurted out, cutting her off and regarding her heavily over his shoulder.
“Oh my god!” Y/n jumped against the cushion with excitement, jostling the two of them against each other while her brain connected the dots. “I never would have put that together!”
“Sorry…”Jimin sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I did the best I could in the moment.”
“On Saturday, was that you in the family tree portal?” Now that she had asked the first question, the rest were barreling from her mouth before she could think.
His face flushed pink, and he shook with a weak chuckle. “Yes, that was me. I really apologize for snooping when I said I wouldn’t–but after looking over your cute little hand drawn tree with all the x’s, I started to piece together information of my own that I’ve been gathering from them. Figured you could use a hand. Did you see Clarence around the property, or what triggered that?”
Y/n sunk into the couch with a powerful exhale. “ Do you know what happened this weekend yet or have you not caught up?”
Jimin’s brows furrowed, his eyes turning steely. “I haven’t gotten the chance to debrief between coming back to work and setting up time with you. What happened?”
“I was at the guest house with–”
The doors to Jimin’s office burst open, Namjoon stood bracing it against the wall to keep it from closing in on them with the force that Jungkook had shoved it open with. Both of their chests were heaving with their efforts to catch their breath, having clearly run through the building to get here. Jungkook’s jaw was clenched so hard she could see the muscles of his face twitching, and Namjoon’s eyes blazed with a fierceness she hadn’t seen since he had first found out about Hadwin.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Jungkook demanded sharply, stepping further into the room, his eyes trained on the smoldering bowl.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear it go off–but everything's fine! I'm safe!” Y/n jumped from her spot on the couch with a spirited grin, pulling Jimin up with her. “Guys, Jimin can–”
Namjoon cut her off, his tone uncharacteristically short.
A/n: She's long, she's here, she's A LOT. Love you all, and I can't wait to hear how you feel.
The rest of the Pinterest boards will go up tonight as well! So for all my sleuthing readers-look forward to those!!
Edit: I forgot the recap-Okay now for real
Most lovingly, ~Delyn
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Recap
“Oh my god.” Y/n gasped, her mug slipping from her fingers, and her other hand coming up to save both the mug and her floors from an unfortunate demise.
“What? Did I break them?” Namjoon spun in his chair, hands frantically coming up to look over her shoulder.
Y/n didn’t need to answer. The answer was written clear as day on a torn napkin resting where the eaten strawberries used to be in swirling neat penmanship.
“They’re listening to me. I’m sorry.”
--
January 4th, 1901
Today–simply put–is one of the worst days of my life.
First and foremost, it is cold, bleak like what is to come. The hills that surround us are blanketed just the same, in colorless waves of white that do nothing to combat the nothingness I feel on this morning. I should be proud, mother says, to behold such an honor–such a historical moment in our history, but I feel nothing of the sort; I feel something more akin to hatred. There is no honor found in being stuck as a perpetual witness, though she seems to disagree with me vehemently on that belief.
Does that make me wretched? To feel hatred for my own blood? Mother says as much. He is my brother after all and I must keep reminding myself of that despicable fact each morning when I see his annoyingly broad face at breakfast, and I hold back the urge to crack the shell of my eggs upon his forehead. I hate witnessing them enjoy in merriment that should be mine: the wines and imported cheeses; the frivolous outfits and unappealing hats (certainly they must see that adding height to the top of one's head does not make up for a lack of substance beneath it); the music and the dancing women parading the halls and theater; oh how it should all be mine!
I really should not be saying things of this kind about my brother, for some good has come from him–and by that I mean the two lovely little girls that bounce upon my knee each morning, devouring the alphabet letters I teach them in the study with as much passion as one would enjoy ice creams from town or fresh baked cakes from the kitchen staff. I look to their shining faces and I see something worth haunting these halls for, which spurs my mother to lament on when I plan on having a few of my own–though I have little interest in that process. I would rather run naked through the lobby on a bustling Saturday evening and face the consequences of such actions than to become swollen and burdened with birth and babies and men.
My mother still insists, though she is fully aware of my distaste for it, and I can not possibly fathom for why she chooses to throw herself so forcefully at my choices, when they had never been interested in my potential in other regards–if they love showering my darling brother so much, shower him with the same iron hot poker you incessantly prod me with each month–for he is already building a crib for his third baby.
Poor Phil, six years barely seems like enough time to recover from what I can only assume is the worst part of womanhood–If it were me I would have taken a trip out of the country and found myself lost at sea when the proposition for another biting mouth was offered up to me–though I am aware that her choice in the matter is mute; neither of their two existing children are boys. My younger brother, on the contrary, has already bestowed upon our nerves a babbling boy that he loves to throw into all of our arms like it’s a talisman from god and not just another drooling baby; all the while shouting praises to his similarly pregnant wife, (only a year in between births–goodness me I am starting to sweat at the thought).
Ernst has yet to be sworn in only hours from now, and the race between brothers has already begun.
Must I have a child to enter the race? A son, to be more precise? If I go to the theater and find myself a pretty girl to wear on my arm like a bracelet glittering as a show to my affluence in both money and prowess and have her bear a child in my name–will I be of more importance? What a silly thought.
Unfortunately I must go, I am being called to dress for the celebration. I contemplate whether a funeral would be a more apt name…
Until tomorrow then, the first day of the end.
Adelaide
Bear laughed, the breathy chuckle puffing out of his mouth swallowed up by the crackle of flame from the blazing hearth and the distant trill of horns and pulse of drums. His hand reached over the end table, distractedly lifting his glass of spirits to his mouth and letting the liquid pool about his lips, immediately taken in by the next entry.
The wooden doors to the study burst open in a clamorous hurry, his older brother Duane, Youngho Jung, and Seonggi Kim barreling in through the gaps they left. The bang unsettled the dust from the tall bookshelves and Bear’s nerves, jolting the glass from his lips and barely making it back to the table next to him in time for Duane’s broad-shouldered arms to grab his own in a rough shake.
“Spending the last day of 1953 locked up in the study? How unlike you.” Duane was clearly intoxicated, his button down coming loose from the waistband of his high waisted tweed trousers and his meticulously slicked back hair had a few sprigs loose. He bent his towering height down to Bear’s ear, a mischievous smile curling his features into something devilish. “There are dolls in all directions that I think might be something worth looking at–a wife in your own near future perhaps?” A chorus of drunken laughter waved through their small group at such a preposterous proposition.
“You should know better than to say the ‘W’ word around him, Squirrel–that word doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.” Youngho pried Duane’s sweaty hands from Bear’s shoulders, ignoring Duane’s obvious disgust for his childhood nickname. Youngho clapped one of his own in their place and offered him a smile significantly less saturated with alcohol than Duane’s. “I’m sure he will join in on the party when he’s ready.”
Bear’s grateful smile was drowned out by Seonggi’s own chaffing comments “I never thought we’d have to find him in the effort to get him to join us, I figured we’d be finding ourselves fishing him out of the lake by morning in nothing but his smalls.” Seonggi’s lanky arms were enveloped with a tan plaid long coat, a green sweater barely peeking out from where he still had it buttoned from their trek from the hotel ballroom to the estate, the sleeve riding up as he used one to swipe Bear’s glass off the end table and finish it of in one gulp.
“Well, what else would I be friends with you all for if not to do just that?” Bear shot back recovering from their less than coordinated entrance in stride, jumping to his feet and straightening out his own dress shirt. “I was catching up on some reading–saving up my energy for the rest of the evening, the night is young!”
“Now you are finally making some sense.” Duane guided him by his shoulders towards the entrance of the study, pushing him out of the warm embrace of the fire towards the chilled entrance way that brought the hairs of his arms up to stand. “To the party! I will not have my brother being a square during my last few nights as an apprentice–Come tomorrow everything changes.”
“For the better, I hope.” Youngho snickers, loosening the brown tie around his neck.
“You say that as though you doubt me!” Duane pushed open the front wooden door of the estate, leading their group down the steps to the gravel path.
Seonggi rolled his eyes, pressing down the back of Duane’s collar where it had popped up in the back. “Did you not hear my earlier comment about fishing your brother out of a lake?”
“That was about Bear, not me.” Duane shrugged, his breath plumed into the cold night air, mixing with the wispy snow flurries.
“The thing about that is that you two are one in the same–I’d be dragging you by the belt up the bank after he was pulled in from the water.” Seonggi retorted, his almond shaped eyes glaring into the side of his friend's face.
“And what a great friend you are for that.” Duane tipped his head, and belted out a few laughs, leading the rest of the men to follow.
“Boys!”
The four heads swiveled in the direction of the front door behind them, ceasing all sounds of merriment. The sound of Adelaide’s crackly voice still manages to fill them each with fear despite them being grown, most with children of their own. They need not ask what she wanted, she would tell them accordingly.
“Duane, is it not your wife I passed upstairs, wrestling with your son to get his night clothes on while lugging about your baby on her arm?” Her hair was gray, and her face aged with skin as thin as paper. A miracle it was that she was still walking about the halls at all, let alone speaking to them with such clarity.
“Yes ma’am, I suppose it was.” Duane gulped nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt, unintentionally popping out the back that Seonggi had just fixed.
“And Jungho, was it not your son I saw streaking through the halls and making a mess of the carpets with his soap sodden feet?” She turned her icy eyes onto her next target.
“Yes Ma’am.” Youngho paled under her scornful glare.
“Then shall I reprimand the fully grown men in front of me to fulfil their fatherly duties so their wives may enjoy just a crumb of a beautiful night, or will you relieve her and the new pianist's wife of the job that is only yours on your own accord?” Adelaide phrased her words as a question, but the men knew it as anything but. They moved sluggishly to comply, and it gave Bear enough time to think up a new response.
“I can handle it–let me attend to my uncle duties after being away for so long this past year.” Bear skipped back up the steps, grateful for an excuse to avoid the lavish party–something he’d never thought he’d find himself thinking.
“But you haven’t even had the chance to join in the fun yet! Let us handle our little ankle biters and you go get a few more drinks in your system while you wait.” Duane argued, landing on the step next to him with ease, but Bear held up a hand to silence his protests, looking up at his brother with mirth.
“I insist. I haven’t had much to drink yet so I’m the more coordinated one of the bunch here anyways–you guys go ahead, I’ll catch up!” Bear gave Duane a gentle shove down the stairs, and a reassuring thumbs up. “Enjoy your last New Year’s as a son, and not the owner, yeah?”
Duane grinned, and clapped Bear on his shoulder roughly before skipping down to rejoin the gaggle of men.
“What about you Seonggi? Why didn’t you get your ass handed to you?” Bear could hear Duane’s accusatory jest from the door as he watched them leave, their voices diminishing in volume.
“I already helped put him to bed before we left. It helps to plan ahead sometimes, you know.” The man in question scoffed, offended he would even ask such a question.
“Duane? Plan ahead? It’s the New Year–not the second coming of Christ.” Youngho chortled back at them, their shared laughter an echo of what their boyhood had once been as the three ambled back down the cobblestone path.
“Du solltest seine Verantwortung nicht übernehmen, Bär.” Adelaide gave Bear a reproachful once over, though she still held open the door for him to follow after her.
He chuckled, and shut the door behind him to keep out to cold winter air. “Ich bin sein Bruder. Was ihn beunruhigt, ist auch meine Sorge.”
Adelaide led him up the stairs, taking her time with each step, her hand gripping the railing tightly with bony fingers. “Und es hat nichts mit Patti zu tun?”
Bear froze a few steps behind her hunched form, his mouth suddenly dry and he found himself wishing he still had a drink in his hands to help ease his tension–but found enough wherewithal within himself to quickly deny the hidden accusations of such a question. “Of course not.”
Adelaide hummed, clearly not convinced by his rebuttal. “Then what is the real excuse? It is not like you to be kept in on a night such as this.”
Bear thought to himself for a moment, wondering if confiding in Adelaide would be of any use to his current predicament, or if it would make him feel even more so unsettled. He thought against lying, for she had a keen eye to pinpoint trickery from a mile away, much to his and his brother’s chagrin.
“I’m not interested in fireworks anymore. I find them…” Bear searched for the proper words, watching carefully as Adelaide made the final step up to the landing. “I find them unsettling now.”
If Adelaide believed his answer was enough, she did not share; just led him along a soapy path down the right side of the hall, the carpet still wet and squishing beneath his shoes from where much smaller feet had run along it previously.
“Jeonghun is giving the newcomer a hard time–but I think she has it handled for the most part. It’s Johan and Dorothea that are causing most of the trouble.” Adelaide pushed open the second door down from the playroom, not bothering to knock, the only barrier between them and an infant’s cries removed so it could pierce their ears as intended.
Patti looked drained, the kind of tired that no amount of her cigarettes would mend. The bags under her eyes more prominent than ever, mostly caused by the barely four month old baby draped over her shoulder that she bounced from side to side to try and sooth their high pitched cries; while her other arm was tangled in a blue patchwork quilt she was attempting to straighten out to her son’s liking. Though each time she lowered it down to the mattress he protested by jumping to his feet, and running in swift circles around his mother’s legs in a one sided game of chase.
Still, in her exhaustion Bear couldn’t help but find her more beautiful than all of the stars in the sky combined.
“I brought you some help.” Adelaide’s firm tone cut through the noise of the children, bringing Patti’s deep brown eyes up to regard Bear with nothing short of relief.
“And where’s Duane? Will he be joining us?” Patti inquired breathlessly, her eyes squeezing shut in a moment of covert irritation, for her son had just started another round about her legs for what must’ve been–according to her reaction–the hundredth time that evening.
“No. Your husband returned to the hotel to revel in the festivities. Thankfully Bear offered up his help in his stead.” Adelaide turned to exit the room, stopping within the open door to fix them both with an unreadable expression before making her exit. “I will be in my room at the end of the hall if you need me. I am far too old to be up this late anymore–party be damned.”
A beat of awkward tension clouded the room, both of them unsure of what to say first.
“If you wouldn’t mind–” Patti started, cut off by Bear’s words spoken over her own.
“I’ll handle that rascal. You sit with Dottie.” Bear didn’t wait for instruction, relieving her now trembling arm from the weight of the quilt so she could escape from Johan’s room over to Dorothea’s nursery, and turned his attention to Johan’s giggling face.
“Now you–” He lunged forward, grabbing the boy in his arms and flinging him into the air over his shoulders with an exaggerated groan of protest. “You are getting too big to play like this–take it easy on your poor mother.” Bear threw him down onto the mattress, letting him bounce a few times on the surface while more giggles erupted from the child’s mouth, already preparing to squirm away from Bear to start his next race.
“I don’t think so.” Bear cut him off, blocking his path and pushing him back onto the bed.
The two of them continued their little game of chase, until Bear was able to settle him down with a few bedtime stories from his own adventures on the promise that they were of both himself and Duane to appease his young and curious mind. Johan’s eyes were cemented closed, Bear only just having gotten a few sentences into his second tale when he had noticed his evened out breathing and still feet.
Bear leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to the sleeping boy’s forehead and whispered a soft “Sleep well Johan, 88, Bear over and out.” He rose to his less than impressive height, soaking in the quiet tranquility of the room as opposed to the roaring party outside the estate's doors, giving himself one moment to believe that this could be his life and his son sleeping peacefully in front of him.
“What’s that?”
Patti whispered to him over the threshold startling him from his thoughts. Dorothea had been soothed and coddled over the opposite shoulder, Patti’s left hand rubbing tender circles on her back, the glinting ring on her finger a reminder to Bear that none of this belonged to him.
“What?” Bear asked, stepping out of the room to join her out in the hall, but Patti didn’t linger, leading them back to Dorothea’s nursery–the nursery Bear had helped her paint a shade of bubblegum pink when his brother had failed to get around to it.
“What you said to him in there, at the end of your story.” Patti clarified, settling herself down onto the brand new wooden rocking chair that Duane had delivered as one of his gifts to Patti for the nursery (even if she had whispered to Bear in guilt ridden shame that she had wanted one with more cushion, like she had seen in one of the furniture magazines in the study).
“88?” He lowered himself onto the vibrantly pink nursery ottoman, his eyes catching one of the printed and plastered strangely proportioned lambs leaping around the walls.
Patti hummed in affirmation, keeping her voice low as she rocked the infant, her heels pressing into the equally bright rug beneath her feet.
“It’s something my father and I said to each other when I was younger. It’s shorthand for ‘love and kisses’ when using amateur radio transmission.” Bear took in a hesitant breath, and offered more detail that she hadn’t asked for–something he excelled at in conversation. “Though I do my best to only use it with people that I’m familiar with. Unfortunately, followers of the madman now use it to spread hate. Funny isn’t it–something meant to spread affection being used as a weapon to hurt.” Bear trailed off, his eyes unable to remove themselves from Dorothea’s sleeping wrinkle of a face.
“That’s how it always goes, doesn’t it?” Patti sighed, her hand stilling on Dorothea’s tiny back. “Hopefully they grow up in a different world, where it can just mean love and kisses again.”
“Unfortunately,” Bear began softly, “We can’t erase that side of it–for what is done can not be undone. All we can do is hope that the people who use it for good can overpower those that use it for bad.” He took one finger and tenderly traced it over Dorothea’s small button nose, pausing to watch small puffs of breath leave lungs much too small for Bear to fathom.
Patti watched the exchange, her eyes syrupy and tired, a thankful smile tilted her cheeks up while her lids blinked slowly. “Thank you for your help tonight. You never have to, yet you always do.”
“Because I want to.” Bear flickered his eyes from the baby up to Patti’s rich tawny eyes even though he knew he shouldn’t look at them the way he was. “It’s what family does for each other.”
“Family?” Patti muttered the question with each syllable as blurred as the line she crossed by sliding the hand off of Dorothea to brush against Bear’s. “I wish Duane thought we were as important as you seem to.”
Bear’s face colored with passion, quickly coming to her aid with words of intended comfort. “Patti don’t say such nonsense–you guys are Duane’s entire world. He would do anything for you.” Bear tried to give his words the power they needed to be convincing, but even he could not deny the scenes he had seen play out before his eyes; Duane consistently leaving Patti to her own devices in the name of focusing on his apprenticeship and studies, only for Bear to sweep along behind each poorly thought step to clean up after him. A common theme it seemed, Bear cleaning up after his brother’s messes and missteps only for Duane to take the credit. He would never tell anyone though–he loved his brother too much to face the reality.
Bear wore the label of mischief maker like a badge of honor, or a shield that is so broad it protects his brother without even trying. Each accusation or pointed finger tends to lead to Bear as if pulled by an invisible magnet–what an easy target one is when they are self assured and loud; unafraid to take up space.
“I think we both know who has actually done the most for our little family.” Patti murmured, her delicate finger caressing the side of his palm, bringing him out of the thoughts of his brother and back to her overwhelming presence.
Her phrase should not have affected him the way it did, spurring his heart forward into a gallop under her intense gaze, leaden with many words they had only shared in private secrecy that he had sworn he would never speak of again. He cleared his throat, and pulled his hand away from where it had fallen to rest with them. He can’t let her touch him that way.
“If you no longer need my help, I should be going.” Bear stood, straightening his brown trousers and checking his watch. “Fireworks will begin soon–if Johan gives you trouble I’ll just be downstairs.”
“Goodnight, Bear. 88.” Patti called after him, rushing through a tacked on “Not the fascist way of course!”
He paused, looked at where she sat so ethereal in the warm lamplight on a cold night, her eyes begging him to stay even though they both knew he shouldn’t. “Goodnight Patti, 88. Also not in the fascist way.” Bear nodded in her direction and slipped from the nursery with every muscle in his body screaming at him to turn around and sit back down next to her until the sun rose, or Duane stumbled back in from his night out celebrating. Yet he refrained.
Bear took slow steps down the stairs and back towards the study, the same hair-raising sensation prickling his skin as he passed through the foyer and into the kitchen in search of another drink to wash away his horrid thoughts. He decided on a glass of champagne, humoring even just a small amount of celebration for himself to take with him back to the study.
He was too distracted in his journey to see the hulking, hunched, shadow standing at the end of the hall just out of view; and far too disinterested in caring when the shadows invisible dragging steps following him into the foyer, covered by the loud booming sound of flame and gunpowder in the sky outside that signaled the arrival of the New Year. Bear settled into the couch of the study once more, oblivious to the watchful stalking eyes of the creature that laid waiting in a plane invisible to the naked eye. He was too focused on keeping his own cool through the torrential downpour of flame from outside.
Waiting.
Be that as it may, Bear was never good at being oblivious; especially not for long.
Bear shuddered, spitting out the last of his champagne onto the red rug beneath his feet. Through the stained glass panes of the study doors edges, he could’ve sworn he had seen something–inhumane in nature and grotesque by design–lit up by the red and golden flourishes from outside and reflecting back at him like some imprint of death pressed against the glass.
Bear fell to the floor, each blast rang louder than the last in his ears, reminiscent of too many memories he wished not to think of anymore. All control broken by the unsuspecting image. His chest heaved, and he risked a glance back to the glass, only to find the face gone–vanished with the the raining light of a dissipated firework.
Nothing but a memory, Bear poured himself a glass of water and brought the rim shakily to his lips, forcing each sip down his throat. Nothing but something to forget.
Bear could not remember such a face from all of his duties served–no friend or foe had looked as such. He did not linger on thoughts of what could be, or couldn’t be explained; those kinds of thoughts serve one who has lost many a friend no good.
Bear remained on his knees on the study floor against the center table, pouring glass after glass of water until the pitcher was empty, but nothing seemed to quell the sweat building on his brow or the pounding of his heart nor the dryness of his mouth.
Not when that creature's face haunted the edges of his vision, and the thunderous roar of fireworks above ripped into his subconscious and forced him back into memories he wished not to see.
“Bär.” Adelaide’s voice cut through the white noise of fireworks and his own heartbeat. She stood wrapped in a dressing gown, her hair tucked away and out of sight for the night.
Bear couldn’t catch his breath, not even for a moment. Adelaide held a small bell in her hand, and frantically waved the orb around the study door like she was trying to swat at an invisible fly. The scene itself managed to grip its hold onto him: an old frail woman flailing her limbs about with a look so serious he couldn’t help but let out a few wheezing chuckles at the blasphemy of it.
Once she seemed satisfied with whatever it was she had set her mind to, she slid the pocket doors of the study closed, locking it for good measure. Adelaide spun on her heels and took long purposeful strides over to Bear, one of her tremoring hands reaching out to pinch his chin into place, holding him still and repeating the same swinging of the bell around his head and face as if trying to banish his anxieties with the soundwaves. For what it was worth–whether it be the absurdity of it or the power behind her waving–he began to regain control of himself, both mind and body.
Adelaide dropped his chin and took to running about the corners of the room, ringing its gentle tinkling sound in each one before moving onto the next. Her age left her at odds with the motions, her own breath growing labored as she returned with a slow tread to the couch Bear had settled himself on during her ministrations. She sunk down next to him, and fixed him with an admonitory stare that pierced straight through him.
“You must be careful, do not let yourself become vulnerable to that which walks these halls.”
Bear couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head out in a way that made a few curls of his own fall from their gel coated cage. “Adelaide, the spooks of the house people whisper of are not what I’m worried about.”
“You should be.” Adelaide shook her head, and grabbed his hand tightly in her own. “Keep it, I have plenty. They feed off of your troubles.” She dropped the bell into his palm and curled his fingers around the metal that was now warm from her touch.
Bear didn’t have it in him to argue with her old and wispy mind, complying enough just to tuck it away into his pocket for safe keeping. “Alright.”
Her dark eyes flickered to the journal he had discarded on the center table, her facade of stone falling just enough for him to catch a real glimpse of her–eyes wide and glowing from the firelight, a youthful air about her face as she ran her fingers across the leather cover wistfully. As quickly as he had seen it, it was gone.
“Where did you find this?” Adelaide snipped, though her tone was nothing but an empty threat; he had angered her enough growing up to know when she was truly a threat.
“Squirrel and I had gone digging through some of the old boxes and archives in the cellar and historical office. He had procrastinated on his preparatory reading for his ceremony tomorrow and needed to skim a bit.” Bear knew he was throwing his brother to the wolves with such a comment, but after having seen how much he had left to Patti that night–he couldn’t help but let something that wasn’t a compliment slip from his lips.
“How interesting.” She examined him with passive curiosity. “All of the other reading materials at your disposal–and this is what you’d decided was worthy of your time?”
Bear leaned forward, snatching the journal off the table and flipping to where he had left off. He read an excerpt aloud, doing his best to do so with animated expression. “He is my brother after all and I must keep reminding myself of that despicable fact each morning when I see his annoyingly broad face at breakfast, and I hold back the urge to crack the shell of my eggs upon his forehead.” He snapped it closed, sandwiching one of his fingers between the pages to keep the spot. “I think that is some very profound writing if I do say so myself.”
Adelaide did the unexpected–a short bark of withering laughter sprouting from her chest. “Brother’s are a fickle thing aren’t they?”
“Very.” Bear agreed, a smirk finding its way to his lips.
The firework display was coming to an end, though with Adelaide’s company he had barely registered the finale–something he would have to thank her for. The cheering and music from the distant courtyard and hotel ballroom could still be heard, for the party had no intentions of stopping at midnight.
“It should be you up there tomorrow, If I do say so myself.”
If hearing her laugh had surprised Bear, her sudden shift into modest honesty had knocked him into another realm entirely; the closest thing to a compliment she had given him in ages. He adamantly shook his head, and returned the journal to the center table.
“My brother is the only real choice. I am off on other lands or on the other side of the country, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong far too often.” He pressed the curl back into place. “He worked hard for this. We always knew it would be him.”
“And how much of his work was done by your hands?” Adelaide prodded, giving him a knowing look.
Bear’s heavy sigh was enough of an answer, and Adelaide took to looking into the flames.
“You deserve it–I think you would’ve been the obvious choice if it were me.” She finished, hoisting herself to stand and start a wobbly path to the study doors. “Remember, use the bell if they return.”
Bear took the bell from his pocket, and turned it this way and that in the low light, inspecting what seemed like just an ordinary bell for something extraordinary that she insisted it had. He shook it once, the twinkling sound catching Adelaide's attention enough for her steps to hold pause.
“I think you deserved it. You were the obvious choice to me.” Bear commented, boring his eyes into the back of her head where she stood frozen in the doorway. It was her turn to be caught off guard, something Adelaide almost never was.
She didn’t react otherwise, pulling herself together and sliding one of the doors open for her exit. She hesitated, her hand holding onto the door frame to support her old rickety bones. She spared him one quick glance, her eyes glassy and wet.
“I see you’ll find yourself making good use of that bell. Goodnight, Bärchen.”
_________________________________________
Y/n sat on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, holding the napkin held out for everyone to see. Jimin’s scrawl was easily legible–impeccably neat even under the given circumstances of the less than ideal materials he had on hand. It was quiet. Each of them in a state of confusion or disbelief–or both. But as always, Yoongi spoke his mind first in the way he knew best: Eloquent and efficient.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi gaped at the torn corner with disdain, his eyes squinting to get a better look. “‘They’re listening’? Why hasn’t he reached out about this before?”
“Maybe he can’t. With the way he’s been talking to me lately, you’d think he’s under constant surveillance.” Y/n fiddled with the patterned paper between her fingers for a few moments before dropping the note into Yoongi’s hand to inspect it further. “Even at a park a few miles away he acted like he still had more to say but couldn’t.”
“The shadow figure?” Jungkook offered, his dark eyes looking at the note from over Yoongi’s shoulder.
“That’s our best guess.” Y/n shrugged, unable to look him in the eye after her discussion with Namjoon. That and she was exhausted beyond belief–she could blame the conversation with Namjoon and her previous experience with Jimin for making her head throb and her eyes heavy with fatigue. Her mind couldn’t pinpoint if she was still frustrated with Jimin, or if her irritation was trying to throw itself around at the first thing it could sink its teeth into in a blind search of whoever was causing him to act this way, for she was getting so easily riled up with each sound or thought that wormed its way through her skull. She took two fingers and rubbed at her temples to ebb away at the aggravating pulse behind her eyes.
Namjoon stood from Yoongi’s desk chair and rested one of his large hands over one of her own, stopping her from boring holes through the side of her head with much too forceful presses of her fingers. “You shouldn’t be getting this upset right now–you’re still healing from your fall.”
“I can’t exactly not feel worried when one of my best friends just left me a cryptic note about being listened to–by some ghost or my mother who knows.” Y/n groaned, letting her hands fall from her face under Namjoon’s guidance. “I don’t know what to do with this right now.”
“We can do one of two things.” Yoongi started, looking up from the paper napkin and wetting his lips. “We can either pivot our goals for this weekend into figuring out what’s going on with him, or we can continue with our original plans and then we can try and get him to crack.”
“Let’s not make any plans tonight. Like I said, she should be resting.” Namjoon enunciated the last word with a pointed look at Yoongi.
Y/n wanted to argue with him, and tell him that he was wrong–that she could handle the discussion just fine. But in all honesty she didn’t have it in her to push back against his stubborn commands, she did truly need rest if she wanted to be of use for the upcoming weekend in any capacity. All she had left in her was a meak nod, and let him guide her out of Yoongi’s room and back to her own, the box of strawberries still strewn about her desk where they had left them to scurry over to Yoongi’s room to share in her discovery.
“I’ll go over your wards and then leave you be. Don’t stay up too late tonight.” Namjoon directed her to sit on the edge of her bed while he gave all of her windows and doors a once over, even going as far as to check the corners of her bedroom and bathroom to make sure nothing had been bumped or pushed aside.
Y/n sat, staring unfocused at her knees. The fire that had been ignited before of irritation and confusion had burned through all of the energy she had left, leaving her a drained shell on the edge of her bed. This was a cycle she continued to struggle with, getting worked up to the point where she felt she couldn’t contain herself before it suddenly fizzled out and left her empty and void.
She wanted to call Jimin and beg him to tell her everything–to demand further answers from him in the excuse of lending him a helping hand. They had Namjoon and his knowledge of plant witchery, Yoongi’s extensive knowledge of the occult, and Jungkook the Psychopomp on their side: Whatever Jimin was dealing with they’d be able to handle–at least better than he could on his own.
Though in response to these thoughts of rushed rash decisions, came the echo of something he had said to her earlier that day; a pretty voice sounding out a sentence laced with a warning beneath the sweet tone.
“You know–there’s things a lot of us hide from each other. Maybe for good reason, but maybe out of fear. Perhaps some people aren’t able to say them outright in fear of what may happen to others as a consequence of speaking up.” Jimin’s plush lips moved to release the words in swift tandem. “Sometimes we all need a reminder that there are people that are here that will listen.”
“It looks good. I might have Yoongi give you some incense to burn in here though, just to refresh the space. You can never be too safe.” Namjoon stopped in front of where she sat, peering down his nose at her with his hands tucked into his pockets.
Y/n nodded, pushing Jimin from her mind and shifting to stand. “Thanks Joon. For everything today, not just for checking the wards.” she leaned forwards and let her forehead fall onto his shoulder, the warmth feeling nice against the ache behind it.
Their hug was brief, as was their goodbyes. The disappointment of being alone didn’t fester for too long–it didn’t have the time to. Her dress had barely hit the floor by the time she crawled herself into bed fully intending to stew on their discussion like she had promised, only to last merely five minutes into her thoughts before she was drifting off into a restless slumber.
Her dreams were riddled with images of the demonic creature she had encountered in the kitchen the weekend before, still dripping with tea and ectoplasm. His mouth open and waiting for her to fall right into it with molten hungry eyes trained on where she lay paralyzed below him, unable to stop her inevitable demise. No matter how many times she tried to reign in her dreams and steer them somewhere else, she couldn’t. All roads led back to him.
The images didn’t leave, even when her eyes opened to find her own bedroom dark and empty. Faint outlines of his figure were visible from all angles, burned into her retinas to torture herself with whenever it was much too dark for her brain to fully recognize that it wasn’t real. A constant state of wondering whether or not what she was seeing was reality or just the haunting etches of his memory.
If it was dark, the risk of traveling over to one of her friends' rooms or vise versa was high–it was still Thursday after all–so her father would be expected to sing his sickening lullabies tonight for the last time before the weekend. Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to keep feeding her twisted mind with mirages of the demon, and fumbled for wherever her phone had landed on her bed.
The shuffling of light feet outside her door had her muscles locking in place. She could hear the soft steps (much too soft to be her fathers) hesitating outside along the carpet running over the wooden floors of the halls. Rustling overtook the feet, and she heard three objects drop to the floor outside her door, each one barely audible and signifying how lightweight whatever the gift was must be. Once whoever it was seemed satisfied with what they had done, Y/n followed the sound of their footsteps a few feet down the hall but no further. They were too quiet to hear past then.
Y/n cautiously touched her feet down to the chilled floor, her heart pounding against her ears as she reached from the flashlight on her end table and clicked it on. Her phone read that it was minutes to midnight, so still much too early for her father to be the culprit. Y/n took the risk, shining the light out from the gap of the door prior to unlocking it and giving it a gentle shove. Something in front of the door stopped it from opening entirely, the sound of leaves crunching making her pull the door closed ever so slightly.
She poked her head around the edge, finding three more perfectly cut and trimmed peonies laid gently in front of her door. She swiped them up without hesitation, and quickly shut her door–even if she still had some time in regards to her father, she couldn’t say the same about every spirit.
It was as if the flowers themselves were enchanted with more so than just their stunning looks and perfect blooms: for as she rubbed a few velvety petals beneath her finger tips, an overwhelming sense of calm seeped into her mind and body, uncoiling all of her tension and leaving her a tranquil cloud that floated back to her beds previously stifling embrace that now felt like anything but. The sweet floral scent stuck to her fingertips that were tucked near her face, lulling her back into an easy sleep no longer invaded by creatures from the basement or looming dark figures: but of the first half of her date with Jimin. Or was it Jimin she saw? Her mind slurred images together in slow, languid waves, mixing up images and trading them out for others however it saw fit.
Y/n realized she had been wrong entirely about the scene–it was not her date with Jimin. She wasn’t even at the park anymore. She must’ve just been misunderstanding what she had seen–because now she was walking along one of the property trails, hand in hand with Jungkook. His eyes reflecting the glint of the sun and his hand warm and comforting within her own.
She would have to be sure to ask him to go for a walk with her soon, Y/n thought, her breath leaving her mouth in puffs, barely conscious of what she was thinking any longer. She really liked how it felt to hold his hand.
_________________________________________
Y/n slept much longer than she had intended to that night, the sun blazing through her curtains at an angle letting her know as such without even having to check the time. She moved sluggishly about her room, in no similar rush as to yesterday to get dressed–just settling for comfortable clothes, dangling the new stems from the string above her bed, and falling back into her comforter.
Their group chat had blown up her phone, heightening her anxiety through the roof before she managed to click on the first private message from Namjoon.
[Joon 🌱]: Don’t freak out…nothing that bad has happened. You just need to check your work email.
Y/n did as she was told, thankful for Namjoon’s stable mind. No matter his reassuring words, she still found herself rushing to tap the icon to check on the mostly barren inbox–except for one from her parents with the subject line enough to send her through the roof.
Send him well wishes on his journey!
It is our greatest honor to escort our very own Jimin Park to Baltimore Maryland for his graduation where he will be awarded his Masters of Museum Studies. We will be sure to send photos and a live stream link for anyone that would like to attend and share in the festivities virtually.
Expect our return on Monday, and be sure to give him your congratulations!
Sincerely, Anselm and Mariah Wörner
Attached to the short email was a picture of Jimin, Jin’s parents-Hana and Yeongjin Kim, and both of her parents posed in front of the hotel, looking as though it had been taken early this morning. Two sleek black cars were being stuffed with luggage on the edge of the screen, but that wasn’t what was holding Y/n's attention the most.
Her father’s arm was thrown over Jimin’s shoulder, a bright smile taking over his features that was compensating for the lack of light in his eyes–soulless and empty. His hand was clamped onto Jimin’s opposite arm, digging into the fabric of his shirt and holding it clenched within his fist. An almost imperceivable display power, a barely noticeable warning.
Jimin was going to be alone with her parents for an entire weekend (well, alone with Jin’s parents and her parents), and that filled her with trepidation. There would be no way to text or call him about his message while he was with them–he would be almost completely out of reach.
There was no way this wasn’t deliberate. No–not the day after he had left her an ominous note–not when her mother had said nothing about indicating them joining them, nor had Jimin. Which could only mean one thing: Whatever Jimin knew, or whatever he was involved in and trying to tell her must threaten whatever her mother had been up to.
Y/n spiraled, mentally and physically for the rest of the morning in a pacing circle until Namjoon stole her away from her mental cages in a brisk walk to meet Jungkook in the dining room for lunch. Jungkook wasn’t the only one present–Jin and Hoseok were draped over opposite chairs, busying themselves with their small lunch menus with an air that held a suspicious amount of nonchalance.
Jin’s attire stole her wandering eyes and fixating mind, the absence of his cap, gloves or hotel coat more apparent to her than ever. It’s Friday. He should be working, Y/n noted to herself, then swept her eyes to Hoseok. The same tired taciturn nature oozed from his frame as when he had insisted he was sick–only this time he was trying harder to conceal it from her by the way he plastered a bright smile on his face and waved with too much enthusiasm at her entrance. And if that wasn’t odd enough, he appeared to sag with relief when she ended up choosing a seat further away from him; something that under normal circumstances would have him pouting at her for the first half of their meal.
“How are you feeling today, Y/n?” Jin’s silver tone voice was saturated with gentleness, laying his menu down to look at her with undivided attention.
“Fine…how about you?” Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off Hoseok, and how plastic and fake he looked sitting at the head of the table. His grin akin to a barbie doll in the way his eyes shone little interest in reflecting the same sentiment of joy.
“Great. I was actually going to come up and see if you would want to play a game or two. I took today off since my parents were in town so I could see them off.” Jin answered, oblivious to how Hoseok didn’t even seem real at the moment.
“Yeah that’s…That’s fine.” Y/n finally turned to fully address Hoseok, surveying him carefully for any kind of response. “And you?”
“Peachy!” Hoseok chirped, putting more force into his upbeat mask. “Nothin’ too crazy has been happening on my end. Just driving–the usual.”
Y/n pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, her voice coming out more accusatory than she intended. “I thought you were working extra shifts at the convenience center this week?”
Hoseok’s head tilted sharply to the side, his smile faltering. “Oh yeah–right.” He nodded, his meticulously curated smile returning. “That’s right. Sorry, thought that was implied.”
Y/n briefly met Namjoon’s eyes from across the table over the edge of his menu, and they shared a dubious look as she fumbled through her response. “It’s fine…just checking in.”
She reached to the center of the table to grab a menu from the pile, clipping the moment Jin sent Hoseok a warning glower from below his brow–startling Y/n’s hand to retract from the menu at such a strange display of emotion from him. He must’ve not noticed she had glimpsed the passing shadow of it across his face, because he just returned to reading his menu with an impassive expression like it hadn’t happened.
Next to him, Jungkook leant back in his chair with calculating eyes on constant surveillance of the dining room having caught the strange interaction. The muscles of his cheek twitched when his teeth clenched down on his cheek but he too chose not to call them out on it, settling for observation over confrontation. Though it was only seconds before he sensed Y/n’s stare, his head turning to meet it. A microscopic quirk of his brow was the silent ‘You okay?’ she had grown accustomed to when in group settings, and for some reason–she found her face heating up at their eye contact, and averted her attention to her menu with the tiniest of nods.
Lunch was quiet, Hoseok distracting himself with his phone and Jin focusing on his meal. Namjoon’s accusations from the evening prior taunted Y/n each and every time she snuck a look in Jungkook’s direction, and they delved even further into her skin when she would find him already looking at her. The only thing that managed to stop her from glancing at him was when Seokjin looked up at the same time, wordlessly intercepting their game of tag with an unreadable flick of his brow.
On their walk back to Y/n’s room, she and Namjoon were discussing all of the progress (and lack thereof) he had been able to make during her week of absence, plucking at her guilt that bloomed at his words–frustrated with herself for missing only her second week of work. Y/n knew he wasn’t upset with her, and that was the only comforting string that kept those feelings from stacking on top of the thoughts she was already sorting through that day. She fought to keep herself present in the tale he was currently recounting of his run in with their new greenhouse roommate–a black widow spider they lovingly named Julia Caesar.
“...I put the pot down then and could see all of her scary little eyes–no thanks–she claimed it as hers now I’m not going to risk evicting her and getting bitten. Consider this a warning when you come back next week: she has taken over the empty terracotta pot on the second floor. I might even get a tag to put on it so everyone knows.”
“Joon, we can just take her outside.” Y/n snorted, resting her head on the shoulder of the arm she was holding onto. “Just take the pot outback for a day and I promise she won't be there by sundown.”
Namjoon looked affronted, curling his mouth in disgust and bringing his chin inwards at the suggestion. “Absolutely not. I’m not touching it–like I said she owns it now.”
“Then I’ll do it.” A new thought clicked in Y/n’s mind, a teasing smile warming up her lips. “Unless you are actually starting to like her now…”
He sputtered, leaning in front to open her door for her. “No. Never.”
“Are you sure? Because last I checked a bet was made, and it smells like I might be winning.” Y/n reluctantly untangled herself from his arm and stepped into her room.
“Positive.” Namjoon’s neck was turning red, and his eyes refused to stay locked in one place.
Liar, Y/n giggled to herself.
“Uh huh. Sure.” Y/n gave an exaggerated nod, dragging out the last word longer than necessary and leaning up against her door with her hand already tapping it closed. “You owe me a trip to Longwood.”
The close of her door stifled any of his protests, and Y/n couldn’t stop the loud laughter she knew he could hear from the otherside, his defeated footsteps trailing down the hall towards the landing to escape his loss.
Y/n found her thoughts slower than they had been that morning. They no longer raced around her brain like they were trying to put a seasoned Mario Kart player to shame, instead, they ferried about the currents of her mind, coming and going at a pace much easier to control now that she had food in her stomach and Namjoon on her mind. Thus, she was able to tuck her nose into a book, flipping through a dozen pages or so when someone made their presence known on the other side of her door.
Seokjin stood on the other side of the threshold, a leather guitar case perched over one shoulder and his cream colored tote bag on the other. Y/n beamed up at him, though his eyes were stuck inspecting something on the floor in front of the door. Y/n followed his line of sight, trailing down his figure to a handful of peonies trimmed in perfect matching length and laid in a pile at the foot of her door.
“You have a few gifts.” He commented timidly, and bent down to pick them up for her. “I was going to text you but I decided to just change and come get you myself.”
“Oh-No worries!” Y/n gingerly took the flowers from his hand with her confusion evident on her face, she definitely had heard anyone else knock since Namjoon had taken his leave. “You can come in if you want, just give me a second to set these aside” Y/n eyed the guitar case over his shoulder quizzically. “Did you still want to play some games or have you decided to change the plans? Not that I’m complaining–I loved listening to you play.” She left the door open for him to follow in after her and dropped the new peony additions on her desk. She was going to run out of room for them soon…Y/n thought as she watched a few stray petals fall loose from one of the stems and scurry to the floor.
Jin shifted uncomfortably in the center of her room, his gaze following her movements as she leapt to stand on her bed and clip the bundle of stems to a string Jungkook had helped her hang up. ”I was going to suggest we dust off the old Wii and have some fun with it, but it’s so nice out today that I couldn’t excuse staying cooped up.”
Y/n hummed in response, mesmerized by the petals and the fresh scent they emitted. The flowers were cut at the exact length as the first she had received–but this time it was four perfect blooms staring back at her with full blushing faces. Y/n tore her eyes from them and turned back to Jin, hopping down from the bed to join him in the middle of the room.
“Where are we going? I’m not exactly dressed for anything fancy.” She examined his casual attire, simple black pants hemmed above the ankle and nice white t-shirt hidden beneath a thin blue jacket. Y/n caught the glint of a small silver pendant hidden beneath the collar of his shirt but couldn’t make out its shape.
“Me neither.” He chuckled, giving her a sweet smile. “Guest house?”
Y/n felt her eye twitch slightly, but chose to ignore it and push down any thoughts of getting roped into being there late into the evening–she would just be sure to tell him she had plans with Namjoon after dinner as an excuse if need be. “Sounds good.” She glanced down at her own lounge set with a wrinkle of her nose. “I probably will change actually–much too hot for fleece.”
Jin gave her an affirming nod, and gestured to her door. “I’ll wait out here.”
Y/n quickly shuffled out of her clothes and into a pair of green embroidered shorts and a white long-sleeved cropped shirt, tugging on some taller socks when she remembered how Namjoon had chided her last week for not wearing any during tick season–god forbid she get one during their walk through the woods and she would have to admit it to him (not that the rest of her outfit was necessarily tick friendly, but she had to compromise somewhere). Y/n stood tall, regarding the mysteriously appearing flowers where they dangled over her bed apprehensively, then slipping out into the hall after Jin.
Thankfully, Jin didn’t linger around the estate for very long, urging them out and onto the dirt trail to the guest house and lake to enjoy the afternoon sun. Jin was awfully chatty this time, distracting her with antidotes of his work week and about how he had gone out for lunch with his parents the day prior–filling her in on their most recent trip to Portugal. The house came into view before Y/n had even realized it, and the unknown passage of time reminded her of how much Jin seemed to calm her mind, unwinding her tensions and putting her at ease; the kind of friend that had you forgetting that time itself even existed when you were with them.
Once in the house, Jin took a moment to prop open the sunroom door that led directly onto the turf and the fire pit, and moved back to drop the leather case onto the glass table top in the center. Y/n made herself comfortable, finding the same rhythm they had a few days prior: her seated comfortably near him and him fiddling with his guitar.
He unlatched the case and lifted the instrument out from within, situating himself down next to her and beginning the task of tuning the strings according to his liking. Y/n closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of fresh early evening air and letting it furl in her lungs and release through her mouth at a lazy pace. The chorus of chirping woodland animals and the sound of rustling trees comforting her in the best way possible. She couldn’t even remember any of the things that had worried her that morning. Something about Jimin? It didn’t matter. She was comfortable here now with Jin.
The scent of freshly cut grass and the thick beams of sunlight that enlightened clouds of floating dust, cut through by the shadow of a bird flying overhead in front of its source made her feel truly at home. While she loved the ease of travel and particular beauty of D.C while in college, nothing beats a nice day in Pennsylvania trees. The smell of fresh earth and clean air made her muscles relax into a tranquil state that only grew in strength when Jin started absentmindedly strumming a few chords, simple progressions designed to warm up his fingers.
Y/n curled brought her legs up onto the couch with her, and rested her elbow on the back of the couch to prop her head on it, captivated by how easily his fingers slid on the fretboard to find their next chord. The rhythm promptly switched, moving into a climbing introductory flourish of a song she could immediately recognize as one of Hozier’s. She didn’t interrupt him (nor did she feel pressured to find a distracting hobby) and let him start through the opening verse, his time kept by his foot rising and following on beat against the wooden floor beneath them. His confidence had already multiplied since Wednesday, for the lyrics were already spilling from his lips in lilting shapes of romance and yearning, flowing into her ears and muddying her senses.
He didn’t take much breaks in between songs, just letting them flow from his hands and mouth with practiced ease and filling any empty space between them that would have been. Y/n didn’t mind, enjoying the silvery tone of his voice and the nostalgic plucking of the strings. Y/n felt her mind growing loose, having found a moment of refuge from whatever was going on back at the hotel and estate drifting completely from her brain and leaving her floating, light as a feather through the soundscapes that enveloped her in their welcoming arms.
There was a small pause in the music as he leaned forwards to fish through his bag that she had recognized from before to thumb through sheet music and chord charts for the next song he was looking for.
Y/n took that moment to take in his soft skin in the golden cast of the sun from the windows, and the way it glowed. She saw him now for how she knew him best beneath the carefully built exterior to match the role of the eldest: kind and carefree. Y/n nibbled at her lip, taking in how relaxed he seemed in that moment. His back wasn’t straight as a pencil and his face wasn’t forced into a pleasant smile. Y/n felt honored, thinking about how this must be the place he felt the most comfortable–and she could clearly see why. Out here almost felt like a completely different property, like they could walk through the door and pretend this was their house, a normal house with normal activities. No pressure of any preexisting legacy or long family history to pull them this way and that. Y/n watched him closer now, her brow furrowing in thought as she started to see him in a new light. Relaxed in the normal. Is this what he wanted? Normal? Did he even want to be at the hotel?
She had always just assumed he would–because that’s what everyone else concluded as far as she could remember–especially with him being the first and only biological child of the Kim’s. Her trail of thought continued even further, unraveling new strings from what she had always thought was a completed tapestry, a picture perfect image of Seokjin Kim. But there were loose threads at the bottom, and Y/n kicked herself for never even bothering to check.
She had yet to hear anything about his intentions to take over after his father as the Hotel and Estate’s finance manager, and wondered just what he was doing still working at the front desk if his parents were in the process of finalizing their retirement. This encouraged her previous line of thinking, why had she never asked him what he wanted? She decided the only way to build a better read into what he was comfortable talking about or not talking about, would just be to shoot her shot and see how it landed.
“Jin?”
“Hmm?” He paused his rummaging, and looked at her from over his shoulder.
“Your parents are retiring, right?” She approached the subject gently, not yet wanting to scare him away.
He looked back at the splayed open folder, a small twitch of his nose the only sign he gave her for how he felt about the question. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well I was just wondering…You know…” Y/n tried, hoping he would catch on to her question so the topic would be in his hands to choose whether or not to elaborate further.
“Oh.” His hands lowered the folder down to rest against the glass, and he sat back against the couch to look at her, his mouth quirked to one side. “I’ll be taking over sometime next year if that’s what you’re asking.”
Jin was good at guarding himself, Y/n concluded. But she was also good at picking apart his body language: No jokes and a fidgeting mouth. He was either extremely uncomfortable or extremely serious. Both of those options were odd to see on someone who constantly chooses to put forth the face of an easy going friend, or an excellent host. Jin was truly a chameleon.
“How are you feeling about that?” Y/n tested the waters even further. “You don’t seem very excited.”
Jin’s eyes moved swiftly from one part of her face to the next and chewing on the inside of his lip while he thought up his next response. Y/n rushed to apologize, not wanting to ruin the peaceful environment he had curated.
“You don’t have to answer that–I’m sorry that was–”
“I don’t know.”
Y/n froze, her eyes flicking up to look at his face. She watched part of his guard crumble enough for him to sigh and give a rueful smile.
“I want to keep the tradition going, and I don’t mind the work. A family of number crunchers breeds a great mathematician so it’s not that I’m worried about.” He gave a dry chuckle. “I just feel like…” He looked out towards the grass, his eyes cloudy, “Nevermind. I don’t want to trouble you with this.”
“No, I want to listen,” Y/n tucked a leg beneath her and shifted her body to face him completely. “You feel like?” Y/n urged him onwards, her eyes shining earnestly.
He moved his guitar to rest on the case, and mimicked her position, turning towards her and propping leg on the couch, bent at the knee and brushing against her own. “ I just feel like I wasn’t ever really asked. It was just expected of me. I like the job and I love being here, but I just wish it would’ve felt more like my own choice and less like an obligation.” He flicked a piece of hair from his eyes only for it to fall right back into place. “I know that sounds a bit contradictory–if I like it why should I care right?”
“I get it.” Y/n shook her head, and laid it back on her palm to regard him with reassuring eyes. “Even if you want it, it feels nice to have autonomy over the decision.”
“Which is something I don’t really feel like I have.” He shrugged. “It’s such a first world problem-” He held his hands up, his eyes rolling to take in the ceiling and his voice squawking out two octaves higher in a mocking tone. “ –‘Oh no! I have a well paying job and rich parents! I never have to make a decision ever again! Woe is me!’”
Y/n giggled at the display, and he seemed pleased at being able to make her laugh. “If it makes you feel better, I always felt like such an ass complaining to classmates about why I left.” Y/n copied the same silly tone he had used moments prior. “‘Yeah my family is rich–and I threw that away because I got mad. Woe is me, I made my own bed and now I have to lay in it.’” She dropped her tone back to its normal octave. “So don’t worry, we are of the same ridiculous kind. I won’t judge you.”
A tiny melancholy smile graced his features, took her in with warm and inviting eyes. “I’m sure you did great in school though. You’ve always been hard-working.”
“Right back at you.” Y/n shot back, a playful smile working its way through her calm demeanor. “Although, I do admit–I do work pretty hard.” Y/n gave a feigned modest expression and puffed up her chest. “One of us has to make sure there’s trouble around here. It may be tiring but it’s honest work.”
Jin rolled his eyes. “Every time I try to be kind to you, you just insist on instigating.” He took one long finger and pointed it at her. “There’s enough trouble around here already, no need to overdo it. I’m getting too old to chase all of you around.”
Y/n let out a short burst of laughter, making a few of the distant animals scatter at the sound. “Old? You’re not even thirty yet!”
“I’m close enough.” He rubbed a hand against his brow in exasperation.
“You have like three years left until then, take a breath.” Y/n scoffed with a shake of her head.
Jin mumbled out a quiet ‘my knees say otherwise’ and moved to grab for his guitar again. “Would you like to hear anything else?”
“Hmmm…” Y/n brought a finger to her chin, and shrugged, “Have you been working on anything new since Wednesday?”
Jin thought for a moment, and grabbed for a few sheets of paper from the folder and lined them on the table in a neat row. “If you don’t like it just let me know. It’s just a song that was recommended to me recently.”
Y/n motioned with her hands for him to continue, and made herself more comfortable (if there was even any more comfortable she could even get at the moment). Y/n let her eyes close, leaning her head against her hold to focus on the melody with no intention of giving him anything other than her full attention. She barely noticed the song growing distant–the chorus feeling more like a distant memory than a song played no more than a few feet from her ears; and the sound of the trees and bugs faded into a mindless blur, more white noise than anything decipherable. Her head fell from its perch on her hand and onto the back of the couch as her breathing evened out.
_________________________________________
“Wake up!”
The harsh whispering voice pulled Y/n out of her impromptu nap, her eyes blinking to adjust to the the once bright room being coated in shades of black and blue, only a ring of yellow light around the sunroom’s now closed door from the outdoor porchlight having been turned on.
Y/n searched for Jin, but he was no longer next to her–a discovery that had her swallowing roughly against her scratchy dry throat. Her unfocused eyes scanned anything it could make out in the dim lighting, finding his guitar case latched shut and propped in the corner of the room, the chairs and couches, but still no Jin.
She felt incredibly disoriented. Her body felt distant, like her head was no longer connected to it, and her hands trembled slightly with muscular fatigue. She tried to clench them into fists but her grip strength was weaker than usual, and the act of sending command signals to her own body felt foreign. Y/n started to panic, trying to move each limb on its own but was met with great difficulty–how long had she been out?
Whoever had woken her up was also nowhere to be seen. Their voice, urgent and familiar, had the hair rising on her arms and her breath quickening. She couldn’t pinpoint who it was, but it definitely hadn’t been Jin’s. If she hadn’t known any better she would’ve said it almost sounded like it had come from outside, as if called through the screened windows or the storm door. But no one was present, no footsteps and no human figure stood outside the door; just a symphony of crickets and the bump of a gentle breeze against the window panes.
Y/n stuck her hands in her pockets in her first instinct to find purchase in the comfort of her flashlight ‘lightsaber’, yet found only the folds of the soft fabric–it was empty. Her stomach sank in on itself, the realization that she had forgotten to grab one from her nightstand before she had left had shame crawling up her throat and clenching her heart down in its unrelenting fist. So much for any trust she had built with Jungkook, she mourned.
She was alone, with no weapon, and Jin was missing. Nausea, an unforgiving enemy as always, made its appearance–climbing up the back of shame like a ladder to join in on its torment. Her hands began to slick with sweat, and she couldn’t seem to swallow enough times, the motion her only weapon of choice against hurling her lunch on the outdoor rug. She may not have found her flashlight, but she had been smart enough to at least grab her phone–which she found snug in the deepest part of her other pocket much to her relief.
Y/n yanked it up into her shaky hands and just about keeled over when she registered the time glaring back up at her. It was coming up on 10pm–she had missed their scheduled meet up time and dinner. And to top it off, she was going to have to walk back to the estate in the dark. Alone. Her heart thumping painfully in her chest with dread at the idea of walking the trail by herself with no light but her phone. At night in a city, there’s streetlamps or houselights–hell even in suburbs you can usually still see the residual wingspan of human life stretching over the sky from the surrounding areas.
Not in the woods of Pennsylvania. You will find no sign of light here.
Not when there are acres upon acres of trees and mountains surrounding you on all sides, and the nearest city is a 20 minute drive out–any and all remnants of it swallowed up by the hungry shadows of the natural world.
Y/n unlocked her phone, and her breath hitched. There were over a dozen missed calls from her three accomplices, and almost double the missed texts. And most of them were from Jungkook.
[Jungkook] 7:03pm : Where are you?
[Jungkook] 7:09pm: I’ll have them put food away for you.
[Jungkook] 7:55pm: Are you alright?
[Jungkook] 7:58pm: It’s me outside your door, are you asleep?
[Jungkook] 8:02pm: You’re not in your room. Please respond.
[Jungkook] 8:27pm: I’m going to come look for you if you don’t answer any of our calls.
[Jungkook] 8:29pm: Y/n. Answer please.
[Jungkook] 8:32pm: Please.
[Jungkook] 8:40pm: I’m coming to find you.
Y/n quickly moved onto the next notification, trying to rush through them all so she could get her bearings and respond.
[Joon 🌱] 7:08pm: Are you feeling okay? Or did you fall asleep again…
[Joon 🌱] 7:22pm: Do you want me to bring you up something to eat?
[Joon 🌱] 7:46 Okay seriously Y/n, I’m starting to get a bit nervous. If you could just give me something to let me know you are safe.
[Joon 🌱] 8:06pm: We went into your room without your permission–sorry. Where are you???
[Joon 🌱] 8:08pm: Jin isn’t answering either. Are you still with him?
[Joon 🌱] 8:30pm: Kook is freaking out. Please just call one of us if you can.
Jin wasn’t answering either? Y/n’s head began to pound and her eyesight threatened to give out, pulsing the light of her phone screen in and out of focus like some sick joke. She groaned quietly–for that was about all she could muster, and willed her pupils to focus back in on the messages.
[Zoltar]: 8:00 pm: You ded sleepy head? Lol
[Zoltar]: 8:10 pm: Okay this isn’t funny. Where are you
[Zoltar]: 8:16 pm: I’m trying to hold down the fort but the kid is getting antsy
[Zoltar]: 8:22 pm: Answer your damn phone Y/n.
[Zoltar]: 9:01 pm: Where the fuck are you?
Y/n wasted no time in sending a message to their group chat to let them know she was alive, her fingers being as remorseless as her vision, each digit moving as if weighed down at the tip; the only solution to typing was to drag her finger across the screen and hope for the best.
[Morning Glory 🌼 ]: I’m ok I thinkk. I’m at theguethouse. I don’tknow how I slept this long–I wasneven tired before. I don’t feelllright.
[Morning Glory 🌼 ]: I was wt Jin
[Morning Glory 🌼 ]: Idkk wher he is
[Morning Glory 🌼 ]: I rreallyy dontfeel rright.
It hadn’t even been a full ten seconds before her phone screen was blocked by an incoming call from Yoongi, and she hastily swiped to answer it as quick as her fingers would let her, holding it to her ear with a shaky hand.
“Jesus Christ, Y/n.” Yoongi hissed through the receiver. She heard the loud commotion of Jungkook and Namjoon shouting back at him from within his range, the microphone picking up the sound but not their words. “Shut up I’m trying to listen to what she is saying!”
Y/n kept her voice a whisper, scared that Jin would return from wherever he had left and catch them talking to each other red handed. That was if he was even still here…
“Y/n?” Yoongi’s voice cut through again, pulling her out of her hazed funk.
She hadn’t answered him yet she realized with a shake of her head, and did her best to slur out her explanation.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I don’t…” Y/n dragged her eyes to scan what parts of the house she could see through the door, just a dark kitchen entrance and the start of the dining room. Unease pooled into the pit of her stomach, and the unmistakable feeling of being watched pricked at her skin like cold drops of rain on a hot day. She wasn’t alone, and from the sense of it, whatever was watching her wasn’t human–meaning if she were to stretch the invisible vines of her spiritual senses out it could trigger something much worse at the expense of finding more information.
“I’m scared.” She shuddered out, embarrassed with how weak the admission sounded to herself.
She could hear Yoongi’s heavy breathing on the other end, and it sounded like he was running.
“We are on our way–about halfway there. We were already heading to check the lake. Thank god you’re not there. Just stay put and try to stay out of trouble.” His voice rang through loud and clear, but it did little to combat the growing fear in her belly.
A dark shadow passed by the frame of the door and her heart stopped–or at least it felt like it–but she knew it couldn’t have with how loud the blood rushed through her ears with each pulse.
“Okay scratch that I’m really scared.” Y/n’s voice shook, edging off of the sofa and crouching below the couch and out of sight, praying it hadn’t seen her yet. Her legs were still waking up–she wouldn’t be able to run if she tried just yet.
The figure returned, walking in her line of sight, only to turn back out of it. It didn’t take long for her to understand that it was pacing quickly from one end of the dining room to the other where it would disappear around the wall and return seconds later; its body language agitated and fidgety.
Yoongi cursed, and she heard Jungkook’s garbled voice trying to shout something to her.
“I don’t have my light.” Y/n could barely hear her own voice it was so quiet, and she hoped they still could by pressing the microphone as close as she could to her lips without touching it. She had surely lost all of Jungkook’s trust, she lamented to herself. What a fool she has made of herself.
Whoever was in the other room had started muttering to themselves, their breath coming out labored around the sharpness of their words. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she could tell that they were upset, and that made her terror only grow. She couldn’t stay on the phone, it was too risky–they were going to find her, and she was going to have to run. There was no other choice.
“Hurry please, someone is here.” Y/n begged, and before he could respond she hung up. If she waited at all, or gave any of their voices time to pierce through her mounting resolve she would stay stuck in her spot, using the sounds of their breathing like a security blanket of delusion that it would do enough to keep her safe. But it wouldn’t.
Y/n could now make out the sound of the spirit’s rushed and clumsy footsteps dragging back and forth across the wooden floors, picking up speed and slowing when they would turn to retrace their steps. The muttering grew more frantic, and its volume increased–surpassing agitated and skyrocketing into twisted mania and fury. Y/n struggled to swallow, and knew she was going to have to make a decision on when to run, but the thought of her lost friend held her back from fleeing each time the figure vanished behind the wall.
Jin, where are you? Y/n pleaded in her mind that he was alright, and had simply gone to the bathroom or to one of the guest rooms to lay down. But why hadn’t he woken her up? Why hadn’t he said something?
“But as for someone else near you, the smell of death is quite strong–someone at your table perhaps? I’d know your onions if I were you.”
No. Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes that threatened to leak salt streams of fear down her cheeks. That was a lie. Jin has to be okay.
The person pacing back and forth groaned in frustration, and she saw them bring their hands up to their head to cover their own ears and their steps got faster as a result, blazing lines into the floor as they darted back and forth. Y/n made up her mind in that moment that there were only seconds left before this thing erupted into something more; her gut and her senses buzzing with alarm bells, and her nose picking up the first few whiffs of rot.
There was movement outside on the grass, and Y/n let herself have one delusion to keep herself sane (funny way the human mind works, isn’t it?)–and let herself believe that it was Jin. Y/n knew that this was her moment, and tracked the figures next turn and watched it vanish for a second behind the dining room wall, timing how long it took for it to come back into her sight and turn. Two seconds. Y/n shook out her hands that had finally regained feeling, wiping the dampness from her eyes on her shorts. Two seconds will have to do, she reluctantly noted.
When it turned and started its trail back behind the wall, she leapt to her feet and bolted for the sunroom door, ripping it open and throwing herself down the few wooden steps to the grass and taking off towards a broad shouldered figure bent forward at the waist to inspect something in the grass. Y/n could hear the figure from the kitchen thundering into the sunroom, its voice layered with a thick accent in a language she couldn’t discern at the moment–but she didn’t care. Not when Jin was coming into view, and alive.
“Jin!” Y/n called out for him, the tears from before returning in an overwhelming sense of relief.
As she approached him, he rose to his full height and Y/n grayed in horror when as the distance lessened, no features became distinguishable on his face: there were no plush lips and no warm brown eyes to look down at her. Just a dark shadowy figure. Y/n kicked up grass and left divots in the dirt below it in the wake of her feet finding enough of a hold to stop her trajectory forward–but she was going too fast. She collided with the figure, the shadows licking at her skin with icy tendrils where two calloused and freezing hands gripped at her shoulders and held her in place. Y/n bit back a scream and tried to shake the hands off of her to no avail.
“Get off me!” Y/n’s hands disappeared through their torso when she tried to push them away. Though it did not verbally respond, the shadowy figure that held her shoved her to the side, stepping in front of her and towards the speedy inhuman figure that pursued her from the sun room. Y/n watched as the tall figure in front of her pulled something long and slender from his back to hold at eye level.
A gun.
A gun that was pointed directly at the rapidly approaching dark figure from the kitchen.
Y/n’s hands clamped down on her ears and crouched low to the ground to mute a deafening bang that rang from above, splitting the figure from the guest house into two wispy halves. The spirit howled out in agony, the sound almost just as tumultuous as the gunshot–then he was no more. Y/n watched both halves dissolve into dusty, weightless, particles and fall to the grass where the demonic figure had just been a second before. Gone.
The remaining figure in front of her lowered the gun and turned his head to nod at her, using one hand to point at the woods behind her frantically, only stopping when she turned her head to look to where he was gesturing wildly to with a slow and uncertain turn of her head.
From the direction in which he pointed, two more dark outlines of men emerged from the treeline, these two varying in height and build. They ran up to where Y/n was crouched, peering down at her with similarly featureless faces, and the taller one of the two took both cold hands and lifted her to her feet, waving at her with what could only be read as excitement.
Y/n blinked at the shadowy man, her ears still ringing from the gunshot and the scream. Something in the way he held his hands up to her face and tilted his head with an air of innocent youth brought forth another image. An image from the woods outside the historical society, and an uncannily similar shadow figure tiptoeing behind her. Y/n gasped, her hands falling from her ears to muffle the sound.
It was the same indecipherable man from before–the shadow from the historical building that had followed her and Jungkook.
“Tree man?!” Y/n breathed through her hands, the sound warped by the press of her fingers.
The shorter one (not tree man) grabbed at her forearm, and cold sensation coated her hand that they enveloped in a shadowy one of their own giving one firm tug in the direction of the treeline. Y/n tried to pull her arm away but stopped; Tree man tapped her arm to give her a thumbs up that held too much enthusiasm than Y/n found appropriate for the situation they were in, but nonetheless the effects were reassuring–at least slightly so.
Tree man faced forwards to the first figure, and reached up over his own shoulder to unholster his own musket, juggling with parts of it she couldn’t see and jerking his head to the side in the same direction his shorter friend was trying to lead her to.
Y/n didn’t need any other convincing to hightail it out of there–not when she could see the ground pulsating with an ever growing dark mass where the other ghost had vanished, whispers of his anguished mutterings spewing from it like a pit of souls.
Y/n spun on her heels and sped off towards the path, her hand in the hold of the shorter spirit. She glanced back, catching the tallest shadow man perching his gun on his shoulder again in preparation for the return of the demon, sidling up next to Tree Man in uniform position. It was almost funny that now with something else completely taking over her fear, she didn’t think twice as she barrelled through the brush with a potentially dangerous spirit and onto the dirt path, her mind focusing only on finding her friends and getting the hell out of there.
Y/n pumped her arms and legs with fervor to keep up with the short ghost’s agile speed as he weaved the two of them through the complete blackness of the woods, trusting in the way he appeared to know exactly where they were going. Her eyes caught the faraway glare of a flashlight–a gleeful swell of hope pooling between her struggling lungs and throwing herself to accelerate forwards blindly in search of catching another glimpse of it. When the glares turned into tiny bouncing balls of white light Y/n held her free arm up and shouted out to them from down the trail as loud as she could with what little breath she had.
“It’s me! I’m right here!”
There was a chorus of distant shouting, and her legs nearly gave out in relief when she recognized each one of the voices calling back to her as her friends. As the lights grew closer, she could make out the familiar shape of Jungkook charging ahead of the other two, and Y/n wanting nothing more than to be scolded by them because at least it meant she was with them and not lost in some hazed mess in an entanglement of spirits back at the guest house.
The distance between them closed and she released the ghostly hand with no fight from the spirit, and hurtled herself towards Jungkook with what last of the power she had left in her, his arms already open to catch her fall. They collided with an audible noise, the wind knocking out from her lungs an entirely acceptable trade off in her mind for being able to feel the warmth of his body radiating heat onto her cold skin. Y/n felt her teeth chattering–Had she been this cold the entire time? She had been too focused on fleeing to even notice that her skin was coated on goosebumps, or that her fingers were completely numb.
Jungkook held her close, his eyes trained on the figure that had guided her here with a leering glare. Yoongi and Namjoon filed in next to them, exhausted and out of breath. Yoongi’s wild eyes fixated on her face, and Y/n watched his muscles make their move to bathe the helpful spirit in light from his flashlight. Y/n freed one arm from Jungkook’s hold and waved it in front of the beam of light as best she could, some of it spilling between her fingers and streaking across the spirit’s figure.
“Stop! They helped me!” Y/n cried out desperately, the figure raising a hand of its own to shield the light from its face.
Yoongi directed the beam towards the ground, his shoulders still heaving and his eyes raging with a strong emotion she couldn’t read. For a moment it was just the sounds of the night, and their heavy gasps for air while they were at a standstill with the figure.
“Who are you?” Jungkook grit through his teeth, the whites of his eyes swallowed whole by his stabbing glare. “Show me who you are.”
The figure faltered forwards, as if tugged by an invisible rope towards Jungkook. He dug his heels in and scrambled a few steps back to try and fight the magnetic draw of Jungkook’s words, glancing over his shoulder and back to the four of them he hastily surrendered both hands up into the air with a skittish shrug. Jungkook stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, but Yoongi beat him to the punch.
“Do you even know your own name?”
The figure inched his hands back down to his sides, letting them fall against his legs with a somber shake of his shadowy head.
Yoongi grunted out a sigh and wiped at his brow, the release of breath doing nothing to soothe the tension radiating from him. “He’s harmless.” Proving his point, he shined over shadow with his flashlight to find him immune to the effects of the light. “A soldier.” Yoongi licked his lips and pocketed the flashlight, gesturing to the figure with his chin. “You can go.”
The figure held up one hand in a grateful salute and followed Yoongi’s order, whirling back down the path whence they came to the guest house. They watched him dissipate into the darkness through the beam of Yoongi’s flashlight, and Y/n felt the shake of her knees threatening to give way, gripping onto Jungkook tighter. Namjoon came up on their right side, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder blades to which Y/n threw one of her arms over Namjoon to siphon more heat into her clammy skin.
“No more guest house.” Yoongi declared with a huff and kicked a rock with vengeance, watching it sail into the tree line and clamber out of sight.
_________________________________________
Y/n stumbled along the now lit dirt path, her one side tucked tightly against a steely Jungkook, and her other hand squeezed between Namjoon’s fingers. Yoongi strode in front of them, invisible steam still seeping from the top of his head and into the air and his shoulders were still scrunched up towards his ears while he took it upon himself to light the way ahead of them all.
Y/n felt terrible for stressing them out the way she had–the only way she seemed to be able to anymore. But she couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks at the thought of Jin’s voice that had lulled her to sleep, or his sweet smiles. It was unlike her to leave anyone behind–she hadn’t even gone in to look for him–she had only thought of herself.
“Jin,” Her mouth worked on its own accord, her voice croaking out from between her lips and into the heavy air that surrounded them. “We need to find Jin. I just left him there–I need to-”
“-You didn’t leave him anywhere.” Yoongi spun on his heels, his tone cutting. “Jin left you as far as I’m concerned.”
Y/n stilled, causing Jungkook to stop with her. “He wouldn’t have if he had known better. Something is wrong back there and he might still be out there alone.”
“No it isn’t.” Y/n admonished, refusing to take any further steps forward. “He could be hurt. Think about what Bea told me Yoongi!”
“We can’t trust everything every ghost says. We need to get you to bed before you pass out.” Yoongi didn’t stop even though he knew she wasn’t following.
“You can’t be serious!” Y/n turned to Namjoon and Jungkook for aid, imploring them to back her up. “He can’t be serious!”
But neither of them could bring themselves to look at her. Y/n felt a few more tears drip from her chin, and used her hand that was conjoined with Namjoon’s to furiously wipe them away.
“We don’t leave anyone behind. Ever. We stick together, remember?” Y/n weakly called back up to Yoongi’s distantly retreating figure, her shouts making him freeze mid-step. Yoongi coiled in, pulling taught with an inhale like a poised hunter, waiting to strike. He snapped into motion with his exhale, whirling back to stride towards her with purposeful steps.
“We aren’t kids anymore Y/n. This isn’t play time with Uncle Bear–This is real shit.” He took one finger and pointed at the darkness behind Y/n, down the path towards the house. “No one gets left behind? I think Jin forgot the memo. Because the last we saw of him on the way here, was him getting into a car at the front of the estate, dodging any questions Namjoon threw at him of your whereabouts and driving off into the night with one of his best buddies.”
“No…” Y/n launched herself into denial, her lungs constricting in on themselves like they were getting stuck together with every exhale, and every inhale ripped them apart with a painful spasm. “Who did he go with?”
“Who do you think?” Yoongi hissed through his teeth. “Hoseok Jung.”
The world spun around her–or maybe it was her that was spinning–she couldn’t tell. What she could tell was that her stomach was lurching dangerously, and the nausea that had held her in a chokehold before had made its return. The ground approached her quickly, and Y/n barely managed to crawl a foot to the left to avoid hurling on any of her friends' shoes.
“Yoongi–that’s enough.” Namjoon reprimanded the shorter one in front of him, and rushed to rub comforting circles on Y/n’s shoulder blades. “She’s been through enough tonight.”
Namjoon turned his words to Y/n penetrating her peripheral with a fixed worried stare. “He’s not mad at you Y/n, I promise. He’s angry with them–we all are. But first and foremost we just want to get you home safe, okay?” He raised his tone to a volume loud enough for Yoongi to hear and then some. “And we aren’t going to take out our anger on anyone that doesn’t deserve it, right?”
Yoongi slid his eyes closed with a sigh, regarding Y/n’s pathetic look at him from over her shoulder, and Namjoon’s heated glare. Jungkook remained silent; as wooden as a puppet while he stood motionless where she had left him.
“I’m sorry.” Yoongi submitted softly and pressed his tongue against his cheek, his dark eyes glistening vaguely in the reflecting light of his flashlight. He abruptly turned with a clear of his throat, and started forward again. “We need to get you home. You should sleep.”
The remainder of their trek was silent, save for Y/n’s occasional sniffle or Namjoon’s concerned voice checking in on her in hushed whispers. Once the estate had come into view, Yoongi separated from the rest of them, his head kept low while he rounded the back of the estate to enter through the back door while the rest of them entered through the front.
Forcing Jungkook to let her enter the Estate and walk up the stairs with only Namjoon was like trying to bend hot metal with her bare hands, but he relented with the promise that he could come check on her before bed once he had gotten himself settled; only responding to any and all comments with single words or shakes of his head.
All Y/n could think of as Namjoon guided her up the stairs was how terribly she had messed up that night–with Yoongi, with Jungkook…
With Jin.
She couldn’t even say his name in her head without wanting to cry. She couldn’t fathom that he would have left her behind on purpose. But then the more Y/n thought about it–the more things fell into place.
Jin always requested to spend time with her on days they conveniently planned to try something new–or push a new boundary spiritually. There would’ve been no way he could’ve done that on purpose. No way he would have known their plans ahead of time.
“They’re listening to me. I’m sorry.”
Jimin’s note crashed through her thoughts, spinning through her brain like a tornado–sucking up everything that she knew and spitting it out into mismatched and jumbled theories and conjectures.
The night when Hoseok and Jin returned from a mystery outing with her mother; The way Hoseok had clearly lied at lunch about his whereabouts; Jin’s impeccable timing on wanting to spend time with her; Hoseok dancing with her while her mother whisked Roland away; and so many other “coincidences” she could spiral herself into if she wanted to–though they all led back to the same conclusion: they had to be working together to cover up whatever mess she had made. They had to be listening, she just couldn’t piece together the how.
“Here we are,” Namjoon sighed, pushing open her door for her and steering her into it. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” The smile he gave her said everything she needed to know–that he had already come to the same conclusion, and that he was doing his best to keep everything together with a solid hold; the foundation beneath the crumbling walls of everyone else’s processing.
God she loved him.
“Yeah.” Y/n murmured, stumbling to her closet and pulling out whatever was closest to her. Y/n didn’t care if he was still in the room with her, tugging off her shirt and pulling on her t-shirt swiftly. They were adults, and could handle it.
Her sleep shorts were tugged on and she tossed her old ones haphazardly into her hamper as she passed it on the way to her bathroom, catching sight of Namjoon bent to inspect her plants in a covert way of offering her privacy. He followed her into the bathroom, hovering in the door frame and watching her lazily scrub at her teeth, before she moved onto washing her face.
“We will figure this out, okay?” Namjoon broke the silence, convincing both her and himself with his words.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Y/n didn’t have it in her to say anything else, and buried her face into a soft towel. Her friends might have been betraying her this entire time, and she was dumb enough to let them.
“Christ!” Namjoon leapt into the air as Jungkook rounded the corner to stand next to him in her bathroom doorway, having forfeited knocking and moved to letting himself in. Jungkook didn’t react to his startled outburst, keeping his face still as stone and his eyes distant while he observed the scene.
“I’ll let you two be.” Namjoon resigned himself, his hands sliding into his pockets. “If you need me for anything Y/n, I’ll be here.”
“Same to you. They are your friends too.” Y/n returned, dropping the towel and moving to take him in a hug meant to comfort the both of them. Y/n felt his shoulders shake beneath her hold, if only unnoticeably so, and he squeezed her back just as tightly.
“Yeah,” He breathed, “They were.” Namjoon untangled himself from her hold, and kept his face turned away from hers while he made his way to her door, making his exit quickly.
Y/n could feel Jungkook’s eyes still boring into her, and she readied herself for the impact of his scolding–whatever it was, she deserved it. She turned to face him, leaning herself against her bathroom counter to leave less than a foot between them and face him head on.
“Whatever you want to say–say it now.” Y/n held her hands out in surrender. “I know. I fucked up.” She took one hand and counted off her sins for him, her voice growing more hoarse with each itemized bullet she was giving him to throw at her. “I forgot the flashlight, I was by myself, I didn’t think things through, I trusted a ghost of all things-”
Jungkook lunged forwards, one hand coming to cradle the back of her head, guiding it to his shoulder and the other wound his arm across her middle to squash her against him with crushing force.
“Stop.” His voice was much flatter than she expected, far from the anger filled wrath she anticipated.
Y/n welcomed to embrace, returning the gesture with her arms clawing around his middle to grasp at the back of his t-shirt. “Why aren’t you yelling at me? Please yell at me–do something. Anything.” She begged, his distance hurting more than any scolding could.
“I thought you were dead.” The dam broke with a broken whisper, and he trembled against her. “I thought I was going to have to find your body somewhere.” If it was even possible, his admission had him pressing her to him tighter than before, desperate to feel her heartbeat and her breath against his skin. “And then when we found you, you were so fucking cold–I couldn’t tell if you were a ghost.”
Y/n felt as though a hole had been punched through her chest, carving out everything it could to find a grasp on his words. “I’m so sorry.” Y/n sobbed, one of her arms coming up to card through the hair on the back of his head, imitating the way he held her to him.
“Don’t. It’s not your fault.” He spat out the words with soaked venom, and she felt two droplets drip onto the side of her neck. Then another. And another. “It’s them.”
Jungkook didn’t let go of her for the rest of the night, and Y/n didn’t want him to. They had tucked him into a makeshift bed on the floor next to her own, thrown together with extra blankets from the hall closet and shoved as closed to the edge of her mattress as they could get it. Y/n’s arm was hanging down the side of her bed, securely tucked between Jungkook’s fingers and his cheek while they both stared absentmindedly with glassy eyes into the darkness of her room; him on his back and her on her stomach.
“They aren’t going to do this to you anymore.” Jungkook muttered from the floor, her eyes flitting down to stare at his face. “I won’t let them.” He looked up at her with pure rage simmering beneath the surface of his irises–hot and biting. “I promise.”
With Jungkook’s slow and steady breathing next to her, and his real hand slotted in hers, any haunting images of the beast from the kitchen or the figures from the woods were kept at bay. Eventually the two of them managed to slip into a restless sleep with only a few hours until sunrise.
_________________________________________
Y/n was hungry. That much she was certain.
Anything else? Don’t ask–because she wouldn’t have an answer.
It was late Saturday morning, an appropriate foggy mist settling over the grounds that occasionally found itself sliced through down the middle by rays of sun that crept through thick layers of harmless cloud.
Namjoon had prepped the batch of tea they were supposed to use the day prior for this afternoon–where Yoongi had decided that if evenings were going to be so complicated, they might as well try to make use of her mother’s absence by trying out a session while the sun was still up (more or less with today's weather, but the point still stands). Nothing would stop them this time–absolutely nothing. Not when the stakes had risen that much higher after the scene at the guest house. For the only thing Y/n had left to do before Namjoon finished up a few last minute tasks at the green house while Yoongi handled an A/C emergency at the hotel, was to simply find something to eat. Only there was one problem.
Yoongi was–as explicitly stated–at the hotel; Namjoon was working at the green house for a couple of extra hours that he had hoped to take uninterrupted; and Jungkook was getting in a much needed gym session to work through the remaining tension and stress of the previous night, with the promise to be back as soon as possible. Thus leaving her with no way to satiate her impatient stomach.
Whatever time Jungkook was to return, wasn’t soon enough. She was starving–no dinner and no breakfast, coupled with a traumatic experience and life altering news? Yeah, she was rolling the dice for whether or not she was about to shoot off into a rocket with the only possible destination being the beginning of a manic episode. Which while great for productivity, would not be great for her physically or spiritually.
Y/n texted their group chat with her thoughts, feeling more like a toddler than a grown woman for having to ask to eat–but it was better than running into the beast from before or any other demon that would choose to crawl from the cracks and stomp after her. She tried to will the time to pass faster (which never worked, but it was worth a shot) by getting herself dressed and ready in clothes that were easy to move around in, but comfortable. The sound of someone approaching her door had her all but skipping over to open it–her excitement dropping like a vase crashing to the floor and shattering into little pieces at her feet; the same feeling of anger and desolation at the sight of more fucking peonies.
Y/n huffed, grabbing them from the floor and tossing them carelessly onto her desk with the pile from the day prior and talking out into the empty room and hall, leaving her door open for the mystery culprit to hear. “Alright, this isn’t funny anymore. Whoever is doing this–I got the message, thank you for the flowers but I’m going to run out of space.”
Nothing.
Nothing except shoes scuffling on the carpeted stairs and rounding the landing to approach her hall.
Taehyung came shuffling around the corner, a paper bag swinging over his arm that held a cup of coffee up to his lips, his head bent to take in the screen of his phone and keep the straw lodged between his teeth for quick and easy access.
Freedom, both Y/n and her stomach thought gleefully.
“Hey!” Y/n waved at him from her doorstep, being sure to keep her feet within her door frame.
Taehyung perked up at the sound of her voice, his lips releasing his straw to give her an inviting smile. “Morning–or I guess good afternoon.” He chuckled.
“Morning, what are you up to?” Y/n tried to sound nonchalant like she wasn’t just talking to thin air, and also internally praying to the universe that he hadn’t gotten anything to eat from the cafe and would be open to taking her down to the kitchen for something.
“Needed some caffeine–had a bit of a rough night of sleep.” He scrunched his nose as he approached his own door, stopping to face her. “You?”
“Oh–nothing interesting over here. I only just woke up not too long ago myself.” She laughed nervously, moving to prop a foot up against the back of her knee and leaning all of her weight on the doorframe. “Would you perchance want to go grab something to eat together?”
“Perchance?” Taehyung laughed around his straw, and took another sip to hide the growing smirk. “I would love to, but I did just have a pastry from the cafe so I don’t have that much of an appetite for a big meal.”
Y/n’s face visibly fell, and her stomach let out a similar cry of its own. “Oh.”
He bit his lip over a boxy smile, his eyes flickering from her stomach to her disappointed pout. “If you wanted to spend time with me that badly, you could’ve just asked.”
Y/n’s face grew warm, and she rushed to defend herself. “I didn’t–I mean I want to I just wasn’t trying to–”
“It’s alright.” Taehyung held the paper bag up for her to see, and gave it a gentle shake. “Luckily for you, I brought extra back for seconds.” He twisted open the door handle to his room and gestured into it with his chin. “Care to join me?”
Y/n started forward, but paused. If Namjoon wasn’t enough to keep the demon from the basement away, who's to say Taehyung was? But she couldn’t resist the invitation, she was human after all–and her stomach was threatening a coup on both her insides and mental state if their ransom demands weren’t to be met. And after her events from last night , she could feel herself tipping into foolish carelessness from being so close to the safety of her room–she had much better chances here than having to run through the woods in the dark.
“One sec!” Y/n called back to him, rushing back into her room to tuck one of her flashlights into her jogger pockets and her phone in the other. She practically leapt across the hall between their doors to slip into his room, missing the questioning raise of his brow at her antics. He left the door of his room cracked slightly behind him as he entered, and moved to drop the bag of pastries onto his dresser.
He had kept his room close to the original design she noted: red ornate wallpaper, a dark and heavy solid wooden bed frame that was older than any of the children on the property, but a new mattress lay with a vintage floral comforter in creams, oranges, pinks and reds to match a sizable old painting hung on the back wall that–forget the kids, was older than anyone that was still within the land of the living on the property. The two end rooms sandwiched in the middle of the estate were more narrow than the rest, the shapes reminiscent of what a true house from the 1800’s looked like: narrow and tight fitting with an even smaller bathroom and closet than most of the other available rooms. Why he chose one so small when there were still a handful of bigger ones available, she couldn’t know.
However if there was one thing she could pinpoint about Taehyung, it’s that everything from his music taste, style, and interests were what she could describe as classic and vintage; so it was no wonder he kept the room mostly the same as it had been when G-min had lived in it before him. The past lived on with Taehyung, and she had to admire his effort to stick to his aesthetic, noting the choices of antique furniture he must’ve dug out from the basement or attic to suit his personal tastes.
“I grabbed a few extra, so take your pick.” Taehyung tossed his brown coat over a skinny coat rack that had a few nicks in the varnish from age.
Y/n felt little embarrassment in doing as she was told, poking around the bag at what he had to offer, settling on perching a fruit tart on her palm and looking around for some place to sit. Her eyes landed on the thick wooden chair snuggled up against the wooden desk, and back to Taehyung.
“Is it okay if I sit there?”
“Hmm?” He looked back at her over his shoulder and nodded. “Wherever you’d like to sit is fine by me.” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, a playful smirk threatening to erupt on his face only held back by a bite of his lower lip as he moved to say something else but stopped himself–finding it best he didn’t. Y/n shrugged it off, and focused back in on her saving grace, the light in a dark tunnel: food.
The first bite was well worth the risk of coming over here in her opinion, a small sigh of relief being pulled from her system when the flavor burst across her taste buds, laying a balm over her hyperactive mind. Content with munching on the edges first, she barely registered Taehyung coming up to her side, his loose fitting emerald green sweater brushing over her shoulder as he reached over her side jolting her to notice his close presence. His hands fiddled with a weathered record player that took up the corner of his desk, and dropped the arm carefully down onto the record he had played last, not bothering to put a new one down onto the turntable.
Y/n’s phone buzzed in tandem with the first blow of the gravelly trumpet from the speakers, a text from Jungkook asking if she could wait twenty more minutes for him to get back and shower. She responded with a simple thumbs up and shoved it back into her pocket, not wanting to come off as rude or disinterested in the man before her who had turned to perch himself on the edge of his bed, their knees practically touching with how close the desk was to his bed.
“How have you been? I haven’t gotten to see you around as much this week.” Y/n braved the first question, the urge to both genuinely check in on him and to have him be the one talking so she could continue taking bites of her pastry.
“I should be asking you that question.” Taehyung tilted the top of his cup towards her, but seemed to eye the way she scarfed down the sweet treat and relented his answer first. “I’ve been alright. Worked on some setlists, went into town to help Jimin pick out a nice outfit for this weekend and for a few other things…otherwise I’ve just been here, practicing.” He shrugged, giving her a coy smile. “How’s that pretty head of yours?”
Y/n choked on the last bite she had just managed to push into her mouth, and beat her chest a few times to help ease it down her throat. “I-It’s fine. Thank you.” She averted her eyes to stare mindlessly at the painting above his bed.
“Good to hear. Did you go see someone about it?” Taehyung remained passive and friendly, but the question felt intentional if the way he plucked at the paper edge of his lid was anything to go by.
“I did, my mom ended up taking me. They said everything seemed alright–though I might have to go get imaging and shit done.” Y/n rolled her eyes with a dry chuckle. “Whatever, as long as my mom pays for it.”
“You don’t think you should?” One of his eyebrows quirked up ever so slightly and he teethed at the edge of his straw. He gestured for the paper back with the two remaining pastries in it with a beckoning hand.
Y/n shook her head, holding the bag out for him to take. “No–I don’t see the point. There’s never been a reason to go get anything checked.”
“Until this past weekend, you mean.” Taehyung corrected, and looked up at her from over the edge of the bag, pulling out a chocolate croissant and putting away half of it in one oversized bite.
“Yeah, until this past weekend.” Y/n scratched at her ear awkwardly at her own slip up, and tilted her head to get lost in the way the vinyl spun, reflecting the light from his window on the grooves.
Taehyung grunted around his second bite, only a small portion of the flakey pastry left in his fingers. He chewed a few times, and brought his other hand up to wipe away a small dot of chocolate on his nose only to smear it across the surface to make a much more noticeable stain. “That’s a good enough reason in my opinion. You don’t want to fuck around with your head.”
“I guess so…” Y/n watched him toss the last small piece into his mouth and try to wipe at the chocolate again only to miss it entirely, her eyes unable to look away from the growing spot.
“You guess so? You went down pretty hard in there.” He scoffed, grabbing a napkin to dab at it yet still somehow missing.
“Were you there? I hadn’t seen you–” Y/n couldn’t watch him struggle any longer, pulling the napkin from his hand and leaning forwards, “–let me get it please.” She graced one hand along the edge of his jaw to hold his face still while the other rubbed at the spot, swiping it from his face and onto the napkin with a gentle hand.
She hadn’t realized how close her impulsive action had brought them, their faces only inches apart and her fingers still pressing into the side of his face forcing them closer in proximity. Y/n slowly brought the napkin down between them and hastily let go of his jaw.
“I’m sorry–I shouldn’t have done that without asking.” Y/n didn’t pull herself away from his entrancing gaze–a contradiction to her words–and neither did he.
Taehyung licked his lips, his eyes flitting down to look at her mouth and back up to her eyes so quickly Y/n had thought she had missed it. He didn’t lean in any further, but kept them locked in an intimate stare far longer than Y/n would’ve normally found comfortable. But lately she hadn’t felt normal.
“Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning? At the cafe?” Taehyung's voice was silky, the baritone tone rattling up from his chest and to her ears like sweet molasses.
Y/n didn’t trust her voice to speak, settling for a few nods in its place.
Lithe, heavy-shoed, steps drew her back from his orbit and Y/n caught a glimpse of red pass by the crack in his door, stopping at her own.
“Y/n?” Yoongi’s gravelly voice called softly for her, and she heard his heavy work boots stop outside her door.
“Sorry Tae, I have to go–Can I call you Tae? Sorry I’m a mess today.” Y/n scrambled to her feet at the same time that he did, their bodies engaging in an awkward shuffling dance in order to let her roam towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow If I don’t get to see you before your show?”
Taehyung chuckled, his eyes furrowing in humored befuddlement and his cheeks flushed lightly while he tipped his cup in her direction as a goodbye. “Yes you can–and same to you. See you tomorrow.”
Y/n whisked herself out of his door, praying that he would keep his mouth shut to everyone else about just who exactly had come looking for her. His door clicked shut behind her and she came up right behind Yoongi, giving him only seconds to adjust to her arrival.
“Where were you?” He pressed, arms crossing over his chest where he still hovered outside her open door. “You’re lucky I came to look for you first and not the kid.”
“I was with Taehyung, he had offered me a sweet treat and my poor empty stomach and I simply could not refuse.” Y/n gave a sheepish shrug of her shoulders, and clasped her hands in front of her in prayer. “Please don’t tell the other two–they’ll kill me for leaving the room before any other ghost will.”
“Hmmm I don’t know…What’s in it for me to lie?” He looked at her expectantly, a ghost of humor passing over his features.
“My undying loyalty?” Y/n tried, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.
“Boring.” Yoongi flicked her forehead, the surface of her skin tingling where they touched. “Try harder.”
“Ugh.” Y/n brought her hand up to run her fingers along the sore spot. “I’m still recovering technically, that could've set me back you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Yoongi scoffed, and started down the hall. “Think of a better argument and I’ll think about keeping your illicit affairs with our neighbor a secret.”
“It wasn’t like that!” Y/n whined, following him out the door into the hall. “I swear–you always make assumptions about me and anyone I’m alone with that isn’t you.”
“It’s not an assumption if I can see it written all over you. Psychic remember?” Yoongi tapped his temple, and signaled for her to wait at the end of the hall. “I’ll head down to the dining room first and watch you come down just out of view of the cameras. I’ll be right there, just give it thirty seconds or so.” He pointed down to the foyer, and started in the direction he gestured to. Y/n felt her anxiety prick at the back of her throat, making it feel tight to swallow and the hall suddenly felt wider and far longer than she remembered. She couldn’t help but imagine the demon lurking just out of sight around each corner, and wondered what had gotten into Yoongi to even think about leaving her alone for thirty seconds after last night's escapades.
The top of Yoongi’s head stayed in view, giving her enough of an anchor to pull herself out of another spiral with the last thing he had said to her coming to the front of her mind. Could he really see how jumbled her feelings had become for her friends? Why did that concept make her feel more nervous than her discussion with Namjoon had? The seconds ticked by to thirty signaling Y/n to start her descent, and his eyes never left her movements as she walked from the landing to the dining room, just out of view of the cameras like he had promised.
“You still hungry, or did I catch you too late?” Yoongi smirked, obviously picking up on her increased embarrassment from his earlier blunt observation.
“No, I could definitely still eat something.” Y/n licked her lips, ready to devour the first full meal in sight.
“What are you in the mood for? We could wait here for lunch, or get something from the Adelaide–even go into town?” Yoongi asked, shifting his eyes from the front door to the kitchen.
Y/n snorted. “Eat here? Yeah right–Mom may be out of town but she’ll still find out somehow.” She squinted up at him curiously, eyeing his relaxed features. “What’s up with you? You seem much happier than your texts make you seem…”
Yoongi shrugged and licked his lips, quirking a flirtatious brow in her direction. “I get to see you. Isn’t that reason enough? Now make your decision.”
Y/n scrunched her face and released a few nervous chuckles, taken off guard by Yoongi’s blunt verbal affection but complying either way–swinging her arms back and forth at her sides in thought. Y/n had just landed on her decision to just go with the easiest option, partly because of respecting Yoongi needed to get back to work and partly because it meant having her meal in less time than it would take if they went into town. Visions of the rice bowls from the Adelaide lunch menu came to the forefront of her mind and left just as swiftly when Yoongi grabbed her wrist with urgency, his wide-eyed gaze fixed over her shoulder on something in the foyer.
“Run.” He hissed, tugging her swiftly from the dining room and through the kitchen doors without even giving her a chance to see just what had garnered such a reaction. Not that she cared to anyways.
Y/n could barely keep up with his unforgiving speed, hauling her behind him out into the hall, the doors of the ballroom whizzing by in a blur. Y/n stole a frantic glance over her shoulder, but could see nothing with her own eyes. Alternatively, he ears happened to pick up on another set of heavy footsteps pounding after them, the glass panels from the ballroom doors reflecting snippets of something broad and dark hot on their tail.
Yoongi turned them sharply down the hall to their right hand side, and kicked them forward to barrel through the entrance of the living room. Whoever was pursuing them didn’t falter, if anything their steps grew more prominent, and more if this world than that of spirits. They weaved in and out of the couches, armchairs, and end tables, and leaped over the stack of brightly colored bean bags that toppled over each other by the backdoor. They blew through it in seconds, and Y/n managed another look over her shoulder as they tumbled out onto the back porch, only a glitching image of a tall masculine frame visible for nothing but half seconds at a time. He blinked rapidly in and out of her vision, none of the flashes suspending in time long enough for her to see any defining features. Y/n cast a nervous glance down at her feet, only covered by socks–there hadn’t been time to grab any shoes and her feet were going to get wet-
“Don’t stop!” Yoongi commanded, jolting Y/n back into motion where she had unknowingly stopped.
They dashed across the yard, the grass still slippery from the overnight rainfall not enough to slow Yoongi down. They passed by the greenhouse, where a very confused Namjoon peeked out at the two of them from the window he had propped open. He opened his mouth to shout after her, but she hadn’t the time to listen to what any of the words meant let alone respond to them.
Yoongi didn’t let up, dragging her only faster to cross one of the small cobblestone side roads used only for residents and into the tree line–yet the mysterious pursuer didn’t seem to be following them any longer–no footsteps trailing after them.
“Yoongi–slow down!” Y/n shouted up at him, struggling to catch her own breath. “I don’t see anyone following us!”
He didn’t let up–if anything he squeezed her hand tighter within his own clammy hand, pulling her deeper into the damp trees and brush. Y/n twisted her wrist, his grip starting to hurt and her hand starting to feel like it was full of static from the lack of blood flow. She barely managed to shimmy it from his grasp and come to a tumbling stop.
One moment Yoongi’s boots were hitting wet mud and the next they were completely still, sinking into the substrate beneath them and coming to a stop with breakneck speed. His black eyes were piercing through her, urging her forwards.
“You need to run Y/n, they are coming.” Yoongi tried to grab for her again, but Y/n leapt out of reach–something in his face seemed off, and she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Who? Hadwin? The beast? Duane? Who?” Y/n demanded, subconsciously taking a step backwards.
“I don’t know–you know I can’t see that well. Who cares who it is?” Yoongi spat, his frustration evident in the way the words shot from his lips like daggers. “Now come on–let’s go.”
Yoongi made a second attempt at reaching for her, but Y/n took several steps away from him, backing away in the direction from which they came. She shook her head slowly, anxiety crawling up her throat making it feel tight. “No.”
Y/n’s chest rose and fell quickly, and her eyes zeroed in on every part of him–his wildly messy black locks, his deep penetrating dark eyes, the familiar furrow of his brow–everything seemingly normal. She couldn’t understand why every cell in her body told her to do exactly as he said. To run. Just not with him, but away from him.
“Y/n–Now isn’t the time for bullshit. We need to go, now.” He held fast, his jaw clenching in a clear show of self restraint.
“To where?” Y/n asked breathlessly.
Yoongi threw his hands up in exasperation, scoffing. “Does it matter? Anywhere but here!” He closed the distance between the two of them, forcefully grabbing her hand in his. Cold. His hand was cold.
Before he could tug her forward Y/n grasped at straws for a question he would surely know the answer to, not willing to accept his lackluster roundabout answer.
“What is your contact name?” Y/n took her hand from him again and swallowed her ragged breaths down, cradling her palm to her chest to warm the frigid temperatures that crept into her skin from his.
“Pardon?” He turned to face her slowly, utter disbelief pulling his brows into his hairline, rage simmering beneath the surface of his eyes.
“In my phone. What is your contact name?” Y/n snapped back, the unease in her chest engulfing her nervous system into panic mode.
Yoongi laughed–humorless and empty. There was no small hiccupping squeak in the back of his chest or visible gums creeping in on the edges. He trained his sharp stare on her, not like he was looking at her, but like he was calculating his next answer and her next move. “Is this a trick question?”
The hair on Y/n’s arms rose in response to the iciness that seeped from every crevice of him, her voice coming out harsh and challenging. “If it’s such a stupid question, it must be easy to answer it.”
It was at that moment–that terrible, stomach dropping moment–that Y/n saw the facade drop long enough for her to see through it. His lips curled up to show his teeth, pulling his nose into a scrunch like he had tasted something awful. The movement lasted only half a second, but it was something she had never seen him do even in childhood. The unconscious tick did not belong to him, and had slipped through while he thought of his answer. The action was foreign enough to make her arms feel disconnected from her torso as all other space to feel had been smothered by freight.
“Yoongi. My contact name is Yoongi.” Yoongi’s eyes looked black. Not his deep brown eyes that swallowed all light, compacting each ray into flakes of gold that only appeared to those gifted the chance to be close enough–to those looking at just the right time when passing by him. Those were gone.
A ray of sun slithered from a break in the gray clouds, shining down through the canopy of trees and scattering golden shapes over the dirt and their skin–only Yoongi’s looked spotted with gray where it touched. There was no lively glow. Y/n couldn’t bear looking at whoever stood in front of her for another second. This trickster, demon, mimic–whatever the hell it was–it wasn't Yoongi.
Y/n cut through the trees to her side, catching the mimic off guard for he had expected her to run back to the house, his long heavy strides starting in the direction they had come before registering her change of direction. Y/n could hear the trees rustling above her yet no birds, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears, and the mimic’s stampeding steps following after her–wearing the sound of Yoongi’s breathing like a costume. It made Y/n sick.
“Y/n, don’t be scared. It’s me, Yoongi.” That voice; it scratched from his throat in a whirling mixture of Yoongi and monster–like he had gone M.A.D. “Just slow down.”
Y/n didn’t let his taunting words try to convince her of anything other than the truth, and pumped her legs faster across the uneven terrain. The mimic growled, appearing to be displeased by her lack of response. Y/n could see a part of the winding road that led to the front gates of the estate coming into view like a mirage in the desert, tipping her forward into a frenzy to get out of the uneven woods that clearly had no effect on the creature’s speed.
“Don’t you love me still? Or have you already left me behind for someone else?”
Y/n tripped onto the asphalt, catching herself on her tender palm that had just healed from her last encounter and tearing open the freshly formed scars. Y/n gasped at the sting but didn’t stop, lurching to her feet and running straight into the road.
“Leave me alone! Yoongi would never say that!” Y/n screamed back at the haunting cackles of the mimic, still using a botched version of Yoongi’s voice over its own horrid scrape of vocal chords; like that would make her believe its terrible disguise after all the mistakes that have bled through the cracks during its attempts at camouflage already.
The creature let out an ear splitting screech of victory–a cross between a yowling cat and a whistling train as it blew from his cheeks–the mimic had made it to the road and was gaining speed. Y/n wouldn’t be able to stay in the lead for long. There would only be one other option–because she was fucking tired of running.
Y/n stopped, digging her heels into the road and skidding to a stop. The imitation Yoongi collided with her back, sending them both careening forwards and Y/n ducked at the contact; the momentum of his run sending him flying forward over her and onto the misty road below them. The blow did little to deter him, for he was able to spring up from his jumbled heap into a crouch at inhuman speed.
“You can’t run from me–I am not of the living.” The mimic swung his fist in a spinning arc towards Y/n, and she dodged the movement just in time for him to throw another–this time landing the blow successfully into her stomach.
Y/n bent forward from the force, the wind pulled from her lungs as her morning pastry threatened to make an unwelcomed reappearance. She hissed through clenched teeth, flames of wrath licking at her insides and pulling her upright by the sheer magnitude of its power. She was tired of being a punching bag.
“Enough with all of you!” Y/n didn’t think–she just acted. She’d have to apologize to Jungkook later for her slip of mental control; because her fist collided with the side of the mimic's gray version of Yoongi’s face.
White hot pain seared through the bones of her hand, but she didn’t care. Not when she saw the image of Yoongi flicker, a glimpse of someone taller curling down in on itself to hunch to Yoongi’s height.
“Sorry Yoongi.” Y/n hissed through her teeth, grabbing the ghosts shoulders and shoving him down to bring his face to meet her kneecap, extending her leg outwards to give him a kick in the chest for good measure.
The mimic sprawled back onto the asphalt, shock exploding with bursts of black blood across his face. The surprise didn’t last long, his slackened jaw closing to beam up at her with an excited grin that pushed more black fluid from the corners of his mouth.
“You are a lot more fun than I thought you’d be.” He cloaked his own voice with Yoongi’s eliciting more fury to pool in Y/n’s belly with each stolen syllable.
“And you are all annoying.” Y/n readied herself for the mimic’s next move, planting her cold feet on the road while the creature pulled itself to its feet, giggling all the while like they were two children playing on the lawn.
“Funny–because we all say the same of you lot. Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” The mimic barreled towards her, dodging all of her hits with animalistic reflexes and trapping her arms at her side with an iron grip. He used his own forehead to smash into the back of her head, achieving his intended goal of disorienting her enough to push her down to the ground.
The blow did no real lasting damage to him, the blood streaming from his nose black and thick as bothersome to him as a buzzing gnat, and he treated it with just as much disinterest when he wiped it onto his pants with the back of his hand.
“You know, we tried to make this easy on you.” He straddled her back, one knee planted on either side of her torso. “We sent people who were much nicer than you deserved.” slotted his hands through the roots of her hair and dug into her skull, tugging her head sharply back at an angle to grab her chin with the other, leaning down to spit into her ear. “But now we need to play dirty–you’ve proven yourself quite the bug.” He summed, feigning a pensive moment of consideration as he wrenched her head from side to the other. “I’ll show you a bit of mercy by offering you a choice: Would you prefer to be smashed into the pavement or would a quick snap of the neck please you?”
“Is that a trick question?” Y/n mumbled up at him, mocking the mimic’s previous choice of words. The distant sound of a rumbling engine made Y/n’s ears perk up, though she tried not to let the hop show across her features. She could practically hear the spirit roll its eyes at her response, and felt a thick liquid pool onto her shoulders and down her front where it gushed from his face.
“Then I will make the choice for you.” He sighed, readying his arms to coil around her throat to hold her still.
The car was coming closer–and rapidly. Y/n held her breath and just hoped it would be quick enough.
“Now hold still. Unless you want me to have to do this twice.” He sibilated, bringing one leg up to steady his foot against the road, giving him the extra push he would need to make quick work of her neck.
The car screeched to a halt behind them, and she heard Namjoon shouting her name, and over volant footsteps against the cobblestone. The creature above her snarled and constricted his elbow against her windpipe, the sensation all too familiar for Y/n’s liking.
“Oh look, an audience. I always loved the chance to put on a good performance. It’s my specialty after all!” he howled with laughter as the steps grew closer. “He thinks he can stop me, but we all know he is much too we-”
The creature's words were cut short, his weight was removed from torso and his arms wrenched from her neck. Y/n looked up as she gasped for breath, her forehead just missing a collision with the pavement in time to see them mimic eating his own words: Jungkook had him gripped by the collar of Yoongi’s work uniform, and pushed flat onto the pavement, raining down punches onto his face with sickening crunches. Namjoon skidded to halt, falling to his knees next to her, helping to guide her into a sitting position.
“So much for having those few uneventful hours to ourselves, am I right?” Namjoon panted out, his large hand coming to rest against the back of her head, and coming back coated in black goop.
“With us? Never.” Y/n shot back, equally as out of breath.
Their attention was forcefully stolen by Jungkook’s wrestling match with the demo coming to pause, the pummeling sounds ceasing to exist. Any final waves of the creature’s laughter were silenced by Jungkook's fists, their pummeling force only stopping to hoist the mimic’s face up to his own, speaking to him through gritted teeth.
“Who. Are. You.” Jungkook grunted out through heaving breaths, shaking the creatures shoulders for good measure. “I command you to tell me.”
The creature gargled out a few more snickers, though his confidence had faltered to a lesser degree of prominence than it had been moments before. “I’m your friend! See?” The creature’s eyes then widened into pure panic, pupils blown and his hands coming up to claw at Jungkook’s fingers, his voice and mannerisms a perfect imitation of Yoongi.
“Please! Jungkook stop! It’s me–Yoongi!” He gasped out, spitting some of the blood onto the pavement next to him. “You’re going to kill me!”
Jungkook hesitated, his grip tightening its hold in the cloth of his red jumpsuit and his jaw clenching. Jungkook shook his head, and pushed the figure down. “No.”
The creature immediately dropped the act, finding it ineffective. “Fine. How about this one?”
Y/n watched, unable to look away as Yoongi’s face melted–dripping away onto the pavement like hot wax, and disappearing with flourishes of steam. In its place, (s/c) flesh took its spot, and their eyes rolled back into terrified versions of her own. It was like looking in a mirror, only this mirror coated her reflection in black ectoplasm, and had a mind of its own.
“Holy shit.” Namjoon swore next to her, vocalizing her internal sentiments.
“Jungkook!” They used her own voice, the sound grating to Y/n’s ears and making her flush with how desperate the creature made her sound.
“I should’ve trusted my mom–You’re hurting me just like she said you would!” The mimic used hands identical to her own to grapple for Jungkook’s looming face. “I’ll love you if you let me go. Please–I’ll do anything just let me go!”
Jungkook was frozen in place, one fist suspended in mid air to take his next blow. Y/n wanted to scream at the creature for being so insufferable–for making moves so criminal she was genuinely worried Jungkook might lose.
“Don’t listen to them!” Y/n shouted at him, one weak fist coming up into the air. “Kick their ass!”
“No! Jungkook don-”
Jungkook lifted the creature by the shoulders and slammed them back into the ground, the image of her face glitching out of view, replaced by flashes of a dark figure in between each flicker. All of their protests were knocked from their mouth, for Jungkook was ruthless; his fingers digging into the skin of the creatures shoulders, and sinking into the surface like it was softened butter. The flesh spiraled between the gaps of his fingers as he grunted, pushing them deeper into the creature in search of something solid to grip onto.
Raw terror surged through the mimic’s face–not the imitation of hers or Yoongi’s–their own unadulterated fear as the realization of their impending defeat had set in.
“You can’t! You are weak!” They tried to use Y/n’s voice, but could not seem to find the sound of it anymore, the raspy wheeze of a demon coming through.
Jungkook’s fingers seemed to find what they were looking for, his forearms flexing with the strength it took to hoist it to the surface. The flesh of the mimic burst into a spray of black liquid, showering down upon his skin and his hair, staining his clothes; the fallout splattering over Y/n and Namjoon who were wholly unprepared for the explosion–their faces and arms coated in the substance.
The dark shadow of a man was all that was left in Jungkook’s hold, their legs flailing in their frantic scrabble to free themselves from his hold.
“Who are you?” Jungkook’s demand was unyielding, coercing the figure to let out a shout of defiance–but they could not stop the answer from displaying itself in front of their eyes.
As if coerced by Jungkook’s command, the shadows melted away into swirling mist, scattering into the ground like frightful animals. In their wake, a fully visible man was left behind for all to see: tall and lanky, yes sunken in and black–gone like all of the other M.A.D ghosts on the property. His jaw was squared and strong, wider than the average man’s, and his mouth was black and decayed, his lips split directly down the center as if sliced vertically with a knife.
Their throat contracted repeatedly, sounds trying to make themselves useful from his lips but found no proper order. That was until Jungkook asked again, lifting him closer to his face so they couldn’t avoid his prodding, all consuming eyes.
“Tell me now. I won’t ask again.”
“Cl-” The spirit started, unable to win the fight against Jungkook’s control. “Clay.”
Y/n sat ramrod straight against Namjoon, the name ringing a bell of familiarity–but not finding a clear image of the name.
“Clay.” Jungkook repeated, the name sounding more like a curse from his lips than anything honorable.
Clay nodded vigorously, as if doing so would save him from his wrath. “Yes. Now have mercy on my soul, reaper. I have done no wrong.”
Jungkook swallowed, his head tilting to the side in a taunting jerk. “Nothing wrong?” He cast his eyes in Y/n’s direction, taking in the damage Clay had done. Clay’s own gaze finding her gave her the privilege of watching the light of hope drain from his expression like a squashed bug.
Jungkook shifted his weight back so he could lift Clay a few extra inches off the pavement, coiling his muscles up for his final blow.
“Go to hell.”
Jungkook slammed the man into the ground, and Y/n felt the rumble of it within her, but not against her skin–the rumble was not of this world. The man shrieked with misery as his body crumbled into dust within Jungkook’s hands, the particles falling to the road and disappearing beneath the surface.
_________________________________________
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“Du solltest seine Verantwortung nicht übernehmen, Bär.” : You shouldn’t take on his responsibilities, Bear.
“Ich bin sein Bruder. Was ihn beunruhigt, ist auch meine Sorge.”: I’m his brother. What worries him is also my concern.
“Und es hat nichts mit Patti zu tun?”: And it has nothing to do with Patti?
Bärchen: Little Bear (term of endearment for children).
Both Yoongi and Y/n’s faces were blanketed in shock. Y/n’s own mouth hung open in the shape of the same words that had left Jungkook’s, but they were reined in and unspoken as a way to hold space for his own. Scared that if she spoke it would pull them from the alternate reality that they had been put into, that he had agreed to something so easily without his usual fight.
Yoongi made the first move.
“I really want to say something snarky, but I’ll save it for later in favor of the current circumstances.” Yoongi’s charcoal eyes wandered over to meet Y/n’s wide and sticky ones. “Y/n?”
She nodded slowly, her neck that was beginning to feel stiff only letting her move it so much before it protested. “I will too.”
Yoongi’s entire body seemed like it both simultaneously dropped, and straightened with poorly concealed eagerness. “Are you sure?”
“I don't have a choice. I can’t in good conscience leave this behind on you. Not after whatever the fuck that was.” She shuddered as the memory intruded on her mind again, doing her best to repress it further down.
Yoongi stood and began to pace with a restless vigor around his room. “Okay. That’s great. That’s-” He ran his hands once through his hair. Twice. Then stopped his ministrations and pulled his chair out from his desk to sit backwards on the seat in order to face them both.
“We need to start at square one. I’ll tell you what I know so far, and then we can go from there. I’ll let you take the lead, ask me whatever you want.” He gestured to Y/n with his chin, and if she wasn’t so emotionally exhausted she probably would've kissed him for finally saying the words she’d been dying to hear since she had arrived. But she settled for asking the first question instead.
“Why did my parents change their mind?”
She didn’t need to be psychic to know Jungkook was fighting the urge to run at the discomfort of her question, but he stayed in his spot with his fists clenched on top of his thighs. He did not protest.
“I can only have an idea, but I’m not completely sure. What I do know is that they are lying. The reason they gave you was bullshit, and they refuse to tell anyone the real reason why. I tried to confront your mom about it a few months after you had left, and she shut me down immediately. But I could sense it, she was hiding something. I think she has something to do with the spiritual unrest, but I can’t be certain. And then there’s your dad.”
The end of his sentence hung in the air like a fishing cast, waiting for her to grapple herself onto it. And she did.
“What about him? I know something’s…off.” Her eyes glanced at his closed door and settled there, thinking of the sounds of his wandering feet.
“Something’s got its claws in him, and they both know it. They keep him shut away in his private office or their room. She stopped bringing him out to dinner the moment I caught on. It’s easier to hide from things than face them.” Yoongi wasn’t good at hiding his disdain for her mother in his tone, and she was right there with him.
“Is he like… possessed?” The word felt foreign on her tongue, having never thought she’d have to think of her father that way.
Yoongi exhaled slowly, clicking his tongue in thought. “Kind of. You had dinner with him, did he seem off to you at all?”
She thought back to her first night, recounting his overly positive energy and extremely welcoming demeanor. “I guess he was a bit more…happy than I had expected. I thought for sure he’d be stern with me, or pull me aside to his office to try and talk things out or scold me for running. But he didn’t.”
“He’s been like that since last fall. Up until then, he had been pretty down and even angry at times. He hasn’t been the same since you left, it really tore him up.” Yoongi paused, inspecting the way he must’ve seen her mind fill with guilt at the thought of her father falling into a depression over her. But she needed to know, and Yoongi shouldn’t have to censor the truth to spare her the consequences of her choices.
“Don’t worry about how I feel, it’s important that we stay as transparent as possible.” What she said was honest, but it didn’t stop her from pulling her socked feet to rest on his bed so she could hug her knees as a shield for whatever was to come.
Yoongi continued on, her response seemingly enough reassurance to him that she wouldn’t have another mental breakdown that night. “Out of nowhere, sometime last spring he perked up almost too much, and way too quickly- I’m talking the night before he was hiding away, and by breakfast he was up and practically dancing through the kitchen while he helped the cooking staff prepare the food. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have assumed he was going through a psychotic break.”
A new bed of unease layered itself in her stomach, and made itself comfortable. Last spring was when she had dropped out of her college program, but surely that was just a coincidence. Right? But then her thoughts meshed together- the way Hoseok had almost seemed to accept that she was back already. Jimin’s prodding into why she came back. The way everyone was so quick to welcome her.
He shifted in his chair, and rolled his neck to the side to stretch it out. “Then he started saying weird things.”
“Like what?” Her words were whispered, her gut telling her she already knew.
He tilted his head the opposite direction, his eyes closing. “That you would be home soon. Once that started, so did his night time adventures. Your mom was pretty quick to start caging him up and away from us entirely. She wants to look like she’s in control of whatever she’s gotten herself into, but she isn’t. And she knows that I know that.”
Y/n’s heart dropped to her feet. There’s no way he would have been able to know she had dropped out. This clearly wasn’t a coincidence.
“Did something I said mean something to you?” He cracked open his eyes to observe her reaction from beneath his lashes.
“I dropped out of my college program last May. That was the first time since the first Christmas I had spent alone that I had ever contemplated coming back. There’s absolutely no way he could’ve known that because I have never even said that out loud to anyone before.” Her eyes were wide as she looked into Yoongi’s that had now fully opened, thinking about what she had said deeply. Jungkook shifted next to her, reminding her of his silent presence.
“Why did you decide to drop out?” Yoongi asked his second question so far, his foot beginning to tap itself slowly while he thought.
She blew out a puff of air. “That’s a loaded question, but the simplest answer is that nothing felt right. I kept just thinking about coming back here and trying to confront them again, or even taking the hit to my pride and settling for a different job here. I had even started to-” She gasped, something she had never put much thought to other than it being a reaction to the stress from finals popped into her mind with bright neon lights. “I had started to dream about being here again. It happened nearly every night for almost a full week before I broke. I dropped out the following week.”
“Shit.” Yoogi spoke through his teeth, and rolled his tongue across the inside of his cheek.
“What does that mean?” she let one leg drop to the floor, beginning to feel secure enough to have only one to hold onto.
He exhaled through his nose before breathing out a quiet “Not sure. But it means you were definitely still being monitored by something while you weren’t here.”
She physically shook her arms out of the chills that descended them in waves. “I hate that so much.” She shook her hands one more time for good measure. “Do you know who is messing with my dad?”
Yoongi shook his head solemnly. “Unfortunately no. Like I said, I can’t always get that many specific details from spirits unless I really know them. And she tried to keep me away from him as soon as it was too hard to cover it up for me to snoop around.”
“Is that why she didn’t want me around you? Because you could tell something was going on?” She tried to cover the germinating feelings of rage she felt towards her mother by taking a few deep breaths.
“Partially. I think she knows I’m still trying to meddle in places she doesn’t want me to, and that if we worked together I could get further than before- which wouldn’t be good for her image.” He shrugged, her question seemingly an obvious answer to him.
“That’s not what she told me.” Jungkook spoke up for the first time since his agreement.
They both turned their heads at his intrusion. He glanced from one of them to the other, they both silently waited for him to continue.
“She told me that I’d-” Jungkook clenched his fists even tighter than before, his knuckles white and his face scrunched into a real emotion, not his usual mask of vacancy. He looked tormented by his own thoughts. “She told me that I would hurt you if I spent time around you, and so would Yoongi. That it would be in your best interest if we stayed away to prevent any…accidents.”
“That bitch…” Yoongi shook his head with a sardonic scoff, and chose to turn his head to look out his window in order to keep any other expletives from spilling from his lips.
“Why would you guys hurt me? I would have never in my life thought that way about either of you if she and others hadn’t started filling my mind with secretive nonsense.” Y/n inched to the end of her seat in provoked disbelief.
A moment of pregnant silence blanketed the three of them, Y/n's eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of them while Yoongi locked his on Jungkook. Jungkook shifted in his seat, but chose not to speak any further.
“It’s because…” Yoongi started, giving Jungkook a moment to intervene if he wanted to, but he didn’t interject, so he continued. “Jungkook has similar abilities to mine, but his have… different strengths. I won’t go into the details because that’s his story to tell. Your mom however, has known about both us for quite some time. She only started getting weird about them over the past couple of years when she started seeing them as a threat to whatever the fuck she is trying to cover up.” He stood up abruptly, and strided over to his window to pace quickly in front of it. His entire body was tense, and rippled with agitation. “Fuck- no offense to you, but your mom is pissing me off. She’s just loaded with low blows lately, huh?” He choked a laugh that was void of any humor and he leant his hands on the window sill and tried to compose himself. . “She knows that’s a sensitive spot for Jungkook, and she stuck her fingers right on it and pressed as hard as she could.”
“You do not have to apologize to me. I’m in the same boat.” Y/n held her hands up in a show of submission, both feet now brushing the floor as she shifted herself on the comforter to look at Jungkook. He was still avoiding both of their presences, but he still looked visibly upset and it disturbed her. What he was fighting with within his mind she didn’t know, but she still wanted to comfort him somehow. She raised the hand closest to him and inched it closer to his own stiff fists still weighing heavily on his lap. She let her hand hang in the air above his own, giving him the chance to pull away from her if he wanted to, but he just looked at it with a distant look in his eyes. Y/n brushed her fingers across his knuckles with as much tenderness as her still slightly shaky hands could muster, and when he didn’t retract himself she grabbed his hand with more confidence. Worming her fingers into the middle of the fist and spreading it open in an effort to try and ease the tension from within it. His fingers twitched to close around hers, but stopped themselves each time they made the move to try. She let the gesture speak for itself for a minute, before lifting both of their hands and giving them a gentle shake.
“See? I’m okay. Nothing to be worried about. If you don’t want to tell me anymore right now you don’t have to.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a small reassuring smile, leading their conjoined hands to rest on her lap where she sandwiched his hand with her free hand to guide his fingers closed around her own. She wasn’t sure if it helped, but he wasn’t running away and his shoulders slumped down ever so slightly -so it had to be doing something.
Yoongi turned back around, taking in the sight of the two of them with a sigh before coming to plop down on her other side. “What else do you want to know?”
She thought for a moment, before deciding to change the subject for a moment in order to spare Jungkook a moment to relax further. “The spirits that-” She broke off as the hand on top of their intertwined ones instinctually lifted up to brush across her neck, Yoongi’s eyes following the movement closely. “-that were in my room. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but the man I couldn’t recognize.” She tried to picture them again in an attempt to find anything she could latch onto, but it made her heart race much too quickly everytime she would get to the man’s face- even with trying to use Jungkook's warm hand gently squeezing her own as a tether to reality. “Have you seen them before?”
Yoongi didn’t look away from the hand resting on her neck as he spoke. “I would hope at least one of them would look familiar- they’re your ancestors. I’ve only seen them in their full apparition a handful of times, but I often sense their imprints around the house. They have a pretty recognizable story, so it's easier for me to be certain of their identity. Do you know about what happened to Hadwin’s wife, Annelise?” He finally looked up at her eyes as he asked his question.
She hummed in acknowledgement, the face of the woman suddenly aligning with an old, fuzzy black and white picture she had seen a few times in one of their family photo books as a child. “She was the one that passed away during premature labor, right?” She tried to pull anything else about them from her memory, but her parents had always tended to avoid the more upsetting parts of their family history when they would tell it to them as children.
Yoongi nodded. “ Premature labor or a miscarriage it's not certain. Healthcare wasn’t as great back then as it is now. Either reason, they’ve always been one of the more…depressed couples around the property for obvious reasons. The past couple of years though, their feelings have been amplified tenfold. She used to show up all the time in my bathroom and where she goes, Hadwin follows. He’s overly protective of her, used to always yell at me when he saw me get too close. He only came at me once, but I thought it was just him trying to scare me away. I put up warding in my room since then- but I still hear her crying sometimes. That’s how I can tell she is trying to show herself. I could hear her through your wall and sensed that something was very wrong. I just didn’t know how wrong, so I went to get back up.” His eyes flickered to the side of Jungkook’s head, then back to hers, where they shined with remorse. “I should’ve gone to get you first. I’m sorry-”
She held her hand up to cut him off. “It’s fine. You didn’t know -not fully anyway. What’s important now is figuring out how to prevent it from happening again, or trying to.” Which brings me to my next question.” She felt a rush of determination in her soul, her residual fear temporarily pushed aside by the revival of anger at her mother. “How do we stop them?”
He laughed lightly and gave her a small crooked smile. “You were attacked by a ghost not more than 15 minutes ago, and you already want to get started?” His shoulder bumped hers playfully, dominoing her to bump Jungkook’s, who’s head lifted to look at them both with scrunched brows in response.
“Yeah. I’m not just gonna let that motherfucker make me catch a glimpse of heaven’s gate and just sit by and let him get away with it.” She tried to crack a joke at her own misery, but Yoongi’s face was wiped of anything casual by the end of her sentence.
“Holy shit- Was it that bad?” His wide and worried eyes scanned her face and neck again, and the playfulness that was previously present was gone.
“I thought you could tell?” She tilted her head in confusion, and finally let her hand drop from her neck and land lamely in her lap.
“I could tell you were scared shitless and I saw that your neck was red, but I didn’t think-” Y/n got a sudden feeling of Deja Vu when Yoongi’s large hands pushed her jaw up to inspect her neck. He let out a quick grumble before leaning over to turn on his bedside lamp, his hands finding her jaw again and tilting it side to side. “Fuck. You’re starting to bruise.”
That made Jungkook finally seem to come back to life from his inner turmoil, and release a displeased grunt. “What?” His voice was wobbly and from the direction her head was tilted she could faintly catch him also turning to look again.
She jumped up from her spot, untangling herself from the two of them and rushing into his bathroom to look. The second she smacked the light on, she had to hold in the urge to cry again. Faint purple and red splotches were already starting to rise to the surface of her skin in a line where the man -no, Hadwin, one of her own great uncles- had tried to strangle her. She saw the tears building as she began to feel her chest restrict, her ribs felt like they were crushing her lungs in on themselves. This threatened to tip her over the edge into another panic attack but she held her ground. Before she could pass the point of no return Yoongi stepped in to lean against the door with a grave air about him.
“We need to take you somewhere. We don’t know if there’s something more seriously injured that we can’t see.”
She shook her head frantically. “ And tell them what? ‘Hey doctor, I know this looks really fucking suspicious but it was a ghost, I swear! Totally not the two men whom her mom hates right now that brought her in!’ They will for sure buy that and not try to question anything.” She couldn’t keep her hands still, they came to perch their palms on her forehead in distress. Yoongi seemed to not know what to say as Jungkook squeezed into the doorway to stand next to him, his arms crossed over his chest and a defiant look on his face.
“Oh god…” She tried to will the tears away by focusing on stress more than sadness, leaving her eyes with just a nervous sheen over them. “I’m supposed to be up at five in the morning tomorrow to start down to D.C with Jimin and Taehyung. How am I going to cover this? How am I going to be around anyone until this decides to clear up? I’m not even going to be able to go to sleep after this-” She tugged at her collar in a futile effort to stretch it up higher, but it just slipped right back down to rest at the base of her neck. “Can we go to a convenience store or something? Is anything even open? I need a color corrector and a very expensive setting spray to even think about trying to cover it up.” He placed her hands on the edge of his sink in exasperation before adding on a “And the biggest scarf known to mankind.”
“We can try but it’s nearly ten.” Yoongi rubbed his forehead with a tired sigh.
“Go check the green room. They have a bunch of makeup stuff in there that gets left behind all of the time. Cleaning staff takes stuff like that home, extra goes into a lost and found box.” Jungkook seemed to disapprove of her not going to a doctor, but gave up the information with little fight.
“Would one of you mind sneaking down there? I don’t want to run into anyone like this.” She gestured to the still darkening bruise, looking at them with pleading eyes.
Jungkook huffed and nodded. “You stay here, I’ll be back.” He pointed at the both of them, leaving a longer emphasis on Yoongi than Y/n thought necessary, before slipping from the room quickly.
“I guess I can keep asking you questions while we wait?” Y/n looked back at him through the mirror, and he gave a half hearted shrug in response.
“We can, but if Jungkook is going to be joining our little demon hunting partnership I should probably wait until he comes back to go over any plans of action.” The way he kept staring at her neck made her feel a bit insecure, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. A beat of silence passed, and they just looked at each other until he broke it again.
“Y/n, I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t go to you first. We could’ve gone to get Jungkook together. If I had been any slower you could’ve-”
“But I didn’t.” She turned to face the real him instead of his reflection. “That’s what I have to keep reminding myself of- Is that I didn’t die. I’m here and we will have to figure something out- and quickly. There’s no way I’m sleeping in there until we do, I’d rather sleep in the greenhouse.”
He didn’t seem to fully accept the circumstances, but something she said took his mind off of his guilt enough for him to think of something else. The quick glimpse of his tongue peaking out to wet his bottom lip gave away that he was cooking something up in that brain of his.
“I can take your room tonight and you can stay here if you’d like. While you’re gone tomorrow, I’ll bring Namjoon up during lunch and we can ward your room off as best as we can.” Before he even finished his sentence he had already made up his own mind, disappearing into his room and opening his closet. He wrenched out a small bag to stuff his workman’s suit in it, and moved to hunch over his desk and dressers to scoop his things messibly into the opening.
She followed back into his room after him, a protest already poised on the tip of her tongue. “I can’t possibly in good conscience make you sleep in there- not after what happened to me.” He scoffed in response and pulled the string of his bag closed.
“Y/n, you almost died because of a poor decision on my part. I can handle a couple spooks for tonight if it means they can’t try to do it again. And anyways, I can sense them and have experience telling them to fuck off. This isn’t my first rodeo.” His words were slightly muffled as he rummaged through his shoes, trying to find his work boots. He stood up with a quiet ‘ah’, a pair of black steel toe boots dangling by the laces from his right hand.
“Well, I’ll need clothes for tomorrow then at least. I don’t want to have to wake you up at four-thirty just so I can grab some pants.” She felt guilty for not putting up a bigger fight, but she couldn’t deny the small part of her that rejoiced at not having to sleep in that room tonight. And she guessed by the way he was giving her a teasing smile, that he could sense it.
“Do you want to tell me what to grab? Or do you want to come with me and grab stuff?”
She settled for going with him, not wanting him to have to carry a bunch of her stuff back and forth for her. When they left his room and turned into hers, it took her a moment to collect the confidence to round the corner. She kept expecting Hadwin’s rotten face to be staring back at her, or for the woman to be crying in a heap on her bathroom floor still. Just waiting for her to walk right back into their awaiting arms. But neither were there. Her room was silent and empty as if nothing had ever happened, but the air hung heavy with the unseen, and she hated it. Yoongi set his things at the foot of her bed, and insisted on helping her grab what she needed- she didn’t need to have his psychic senses to know that they were on the same page- she shouldn’t linger in here for very long. While she grabbed her clothes and folded them into a pile to make them easier to carry over, he took charge of gathering her basic toiletries for her. She was palming through a couple turtlenecks and trying her best to focus on weighing the coverage options, but her mind kept wandering to the line of black salt at the base of her door and up to the wooden box tucked away above her head. Pausing for a moment to inspect it with her eyes, her mind waded to the shore of a new question to ask.
“Yoongi,” She called over her shoulder, and he wasted no time poking his head around to check on her with an affirmative hum. “What were you doing at the lake?”
His body followed his head out of the bathroom, his hands juggling her toothbrush, make up bag and the travel bag she had shoved underneath the sink the day she had arrived. He was zipping it closed as he spoke. “I was trying to get a read on her.”
Her. He didn’t have to clarify any further.
“And did you?” Y/n’s hands hooked loosely on a brown turtleneck and gave it a gentle tug off of its hanger. “Get anything from her, I mean.”
He sighed and shook his head dejectedly. “No. I rarely ever do.” He scratched a brow and placed the bags next to her leaning stack of poorly folded clothes. “Actually…” He picked up the long white sweater placed on top and shook it out, tucking the sleeves in neatly and folding it forward- much nicer than she had originally done.
“I was hoping you would be able to help with that. You were able to draw her out within 24 hours of being here, yet I try multiple times a week and get nowhere. I think she’s an important piece of the puzzle as to what’s going on. And whenever I try to scope around it’s like she’s…” He trailed off as he folded her jeans for her, a low rumble emitting from his throat as he thought on what to say next. “Covered. Hidden away. She’s there, but it’s like something doesn’t want me to reach her.”
“Oh.” It should’ve filled her with fear, thinking of her sister’s dark eyes and shrieking voice. Or picturing how she looked standing in her room, her small voice calling for her to wake up. But it didn’t. It filled her with irrepressible fury at the thought of something using her sister the way it had, especially if that something had to do with her mother. She couldn't stop her fists from clenching around the shirt in her hands, as she felt the unmistakable urge to protect her. Whatever she had seen in her dream wasn’t her sister, and she knew that.
They didn’t speak any further, working in silence as they folded and then carried everything around her doorway and into Yoongi’s. It was when she emerged from Yoongi’s bathroom in her sleep clothes, and padded her way over to his bed to sit on its surface again while they waited for Jungkook that her eyes began to feel heavy. Yoongi sat on his desk chair facing in the direction of the door, a book nestled in his hand and his ankle crossed over his knee while he read from its pages. The sound of the pages turning every few minutes was the only thing stopping her head from lolling forward onto her shoulder as she struggled to stay up straight. She was staring intently at his very enticingly fluffy pillows just beckoning her to sink herself into their soft embrace when Jungkook clunked his way through the door with a large cardboard box in his hands, startling them both from their tranquil state.
“I wasn’t sure which one you would want me to grab. I just brought the box.” His sneakers thumped across the rug much to Yoongi’s protests to take off his shoes as Jungkook plopped it next to her on the bed, and waited impatiently for her to sift through it- which she did. Her eyes widening at the sheer amount of product to sift through. His perceptive eyes locked onto the stack of her things neatly placed behind Yoongi on his desk, and he shifted with obvious discomfort. “Are you staying here?”
“I suggested that we swap rooms for the night until Namjoon and I can get into there tomorrow to put some stronger protection up. Is that alright with you, Mr. Guard Dog?” Yoongi gave him a teasing smile as he shut his book, uncrossing his legs in preparation to stand.
Jungkook gave an almost inaudible scoff. “‘S fine.” But the angle his eyes were set at told them otherwise. Yoongi gave him a tired chuckle and pat his shoulder on the way to the door, which Jungkook tried to dodge, but was too slow. A low sound of disapproval escaping from his mouth at the contact.
“We can meet up here tomorrow night after dinner. We should all get some sleep and get back to our rooms before your dad begins his night march.” He paused with his hand on the door knob giving them each a miniscule nod. “Goodnight, Yn. Jungkook.” Then he was gone.
Jungkook stayed, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room while she managed to find a few products that would work. She placed them on the desk to her left and moved to slide the box off of the cream colored comforter, Jungkook’s hands flying out to help her in moving it to the floor near the door.
“You can keep all of it, if you want.” His shrug was nonchalant, but his eyes held a kind of sweet harmlesses that had her heart lurching. Images of his younger self, always offering her small gifts or being sure to share any snacks he was given with her came alight with comparison. He had always been -for a lack of a better word- more catlike than the other boys. Choosing to show his care in acts of service than with words, and enjoying quality time over being pressured to talk. She thinks that’s how they had worked so well as children. Her never stopping the needless flow of nonsense she would word vomit onto him, and him just listening- helping her collect whatever rocks she had wanted no matter how far, or spending hours while she lined her stuffed animals just right. It wasn’t until they were five when he started being more comfortable using his own voice, and that’s when he let his shyness melt away to let his more playful and outspoken behavior really shine. Sides of him she’s now only gotten to see glimpses of during their times playing games with the others, not being able to contain himself at the face of a challenge. The anger she felt towards her mother rose even higher than it was. Whatever buttons she had pushed, sent him spiraling back in on himself- and she could see it plain as day.
“I’ll look through it more closely in the morning, thank you Jungkook.” She smiled up at him from her spot on the bed. He merely nodded, but the corners of his mouth twitched in an almost perceivable smile. And that was progress that she welcomed. As she watched him turn to leave, she couldn’t stop herself from calling out to him getting to her feet to meet him at the door.
“I really don’t care what my mom said. Whatever she was getting at, she was lying. Please don’t let her get under your skin, I really have missed you- I hope you know that.” She let her words hang between them and she stepped closer. His expression was masked again, forcefully pulling itself to remain neutral and pulling his lip up by the metal ring for him to nibble on with his teeth. She could see it though- much like riding a bike, relearning his subtle changes was coming back to her the more she hung around him; his eyes churning with something akin to uncertainty to say the least. So instead of overthinking it, she did what she would have done when they were children. She hugged him. And much like he would when they were small, he stood still as her arms wound themselves around his middle tightly. She didn’t stay there too long as to not push him too far too quickly, but him not pushing her away was a good sign. She released him to find him staring at her, his mask falling briefly to reveal shining eyes clouded with despondency.
“Goodnight Jungkook.” She whispered. He didn’t respond, opening the door and shutting it behind him.
She waited a moment to be sure he had left, before locking the door and checking it twice, and shuffling with heavy feet over to Yoongi’s bed. Wasting little time curling herself under the plush comforter with a hefty sigh. She kept the light on until the last second, waiting until her eyes were practically stuck closed as she stretched her fingers over to tug on the lamp’s string, enveloping the room in darkness. For the first time since she had arrived, she didn’t feel like she had to force herself to will the spiraling thoughts from her mind. They simply dissipated naturally, letting her enter sleep with not even an ounce of fight.
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She had woken up an extra half hour earlier than she had intended, in hopes to give herself as much time as she needed to blend the now fully formed bruises, creating an ugly necklace of reddish purple and yellow into an invisible memory. After spraying it with an ungodly amount of setting spray that she was sure was probably a cancer risk at that point, she only had fifteen minutes to pull her clothes over her head with extra care not to rub the sticky sheen keeping her secrets in place.
She tiptoed out of her room and down the steps, where Jimin and Taehyung were waiting with sleep tinged eyes at the dining room table. Three mugs of coffee were placed in a triangle in front of them. Her feet only just hit the threshold of the dining room when Jimin’s tired eyes found hers, instead of his usual warm smile he seemed disturbed, and for a moment she was worried that she had actually wiped off all of her hard work but he quickly and unknowingly soothed those thoughts.
“It’s so early, this is torture~” He fake cried into his mug, and Taehyung agreed with a zombie-like grunt.
“I didn’t force you to say yes, you guys insisted that you would help.” She felt her nerves eb away, and the sweet tingle of relief flowed over her limbs at having not already been caught as she covered her nerves with a sip of the coffee Jimin held up for her to take.
“What- and look inconsiderate after you had asked so nicely? What kind of person do you take me for?” Jimin shook his head in fake offense, downing the rest of his drink with an exaggerated gulp and slamming the mug down. “ Let’s get on the road before Taehyung bails on us.”
Taehyung sputtered around his drink with indignant disbelief. “Don’t make me look bad!”
Y/n and Jimin could only laugh at him as he stumbled to follow them, his coffee still in his hands and his jacket only thrown on one shoulder- tripping over his own feet to slip on his shoes that he hadn’t even bothered to fully put on.
“Not as smooth as you make yourself out to be, are you?” Jimin jested, taking initiative to open the door and start down the steps with Y/n trailing after him, nearly missing Taehyung's voice echoing out from inside the house with a disgruntled “Oh shut up.”
Once they had wrangled Taehyung into the car, th ride was mostly filled with just the voices of Y/n and Jimin as they talked quietly while he drove. Trying to keep their voices low as to not disturb Taehyung who had only made it 20 minutes into the drive before falling asleep with his forehead pressed against the window. The entire drive Jimin was his usual friendly self, but there was something she couldn’t put her finger on about his demeanor. There wasn’t anything in particular that she could pin down as to what was off. She couldn't tell if she was imagining the way his eyes would linger on her for only a half second longer than usual, or if he was actually licking at his lips more than usual or if she was just looking into things too much with her heightened anxiety and her own constant checking of her neck in the passenger side window.
Taehyung had only risen once they stopped outside of a fast food restaurant for breakfast 30 minutes outside of the city to slur his order over Jimin’s shoulder. Once the bag was placed in her lap with her as the designated distributer, Taehyung finally began to participate in the conversation.
“So how much are we expecting?” He took a very large bite into one of his breakfast burritos and a sip of his second coffee, staring up at them from between the front seats.
Y/n pensively took a sip of her own drink. “Just the stuff from my room and a couple boxes from the shared space.” She giggled and tossed a hashbrown into her mouth from where they kept them in the bag in her lap. “I can’t decide if I want them to be up and gone out of my hair by the time we get there, or if I want to have the pleasure of waking them up to the sound of me taking the nice cooking pot they like to use and my store of toilet paper that they decided was theirs.”
Jimin chuckled at her devious tone, his eyes unmoving from the road as he reached his hand into the bag on her lap for one of the crispy potato rounds. “ Sounds like you really want them to see you take that pot.”
“Oh you don’t know the half of it. They burnt all the others so I bought myself a small set, and they must have concluded that I had done it out of the goodness of my heart and were up for grabs. “ She felt her blood boiling at the memory of her coming home to find them scraping the bottom with a metal spoon while they stirred.
“I’m glad I never had to deal with any of that.” Taehyung shook his head and held his hand out to pass him a few hashbrowns, and she turned her body to place them in his hand, wiping the grease off on her pants.
“You never went to college or anything?” She kept her body turned at an angle in her seat to look at the both of them.
“No, never felt the need to. I did take a lot of private lessons though -few kinds of dance and cycled through different vocal lessons.” He coughed as one of the hash browns went down the wrong pipe, patting his own chest and taking a sip of his drink to qualm it.
“What kinds of lessons? Just jazz and the likes or anything interesting?” She watched him then choose to shove the rest of his burrito into his mouth, his eyes catching hers and his full cheeks resisting a shy smile. He pointed to his mouth and held up a finger, signaling her to wait.
“Maybe you wouldn’t choke so much if you didn’t try to eat everything in two bites.” Jimin glanced back at him incredulously through the rearview mirror with a disdainful shake of his head. He took his hand off the wheel again to reach blindly for his drink, which Y/n picked it up for him to make it easier as she watched him pat around for it twice. He gave her a kind smile as a thank you, choosing instead to take a sip from it straight out of her hand instead of grabbing it from her. She lowered it back into the cup holder when Taehyung spoke up from the backseat again, ignoring Jimin’s scolding.
“For dance I did jazz, swing and ballroom. Vocal was just done with an emphasis on classical jazz.” He wiped his face off with a napkin and peeled the wrapper away from his next burrito.
“He’s leaving out the best one on purpose~” Jimin’s teasing tone rang out from the front, a sly smile slinking onto his face. Taehyung groaned out reluctantly around his first bite.
“Oh?” Y/n matched Jimin’s sly smile and they shared a mischievous look. “ You must tell me what this is.”
“His mom made him take opera lessons.” Jimin gave a coy nod of his head, relishing in Taehyung’s embarrassment from the back seat, where his large bite stopped him from cutting them off much to his dismay.
“Opera?” Y/n grinned wildly back at the man who’s ears turned pink at the wake of their teasing.
He forcefully swallowed and rose up to defend himself. “Listen, my mom loved that stuff- it was her only condition for me to not go to college. If you guys tell anyone else I’ll tell Alonzo not to let either of you backstage anymore.” He used one of the hashbrowns he reached up to point at them as a threat before popping it into his mouth.
“Your secret is safe with me.” Y/n slid her fingers across her lips and mimicked locking them with a key.
“Not with me though.” Jimin cackled and gestured to his cup, which Y/n held up again for him to take a sip of.
Taehyung rolled his eyes and went to take another large bite but he paused, and with a hesitant look up at the back of Jimin’s head, he seemed to reconsider his teasing and took a smaller one. He washed it down with another sip of his drink. Y/n took note of the dwindling dark circles under his eyes, and the slight puff in his cheeks that were turned to watch the trees pass by at high speeds.
“Thank you both for doing this again- Especially since I know you’re not a morning person.” She made sure to direct a look in Taehyung’s direction, which he returned with a small smile and a tip of his drink.
Jimin scoffed lightly “He wouldn’t have such a hard time waking up if he didn’t stay up so late and drink abhorrent amounts of caffeine during the day.” He snapped the turn signal up and looked back over his shoulder to make sure they were in the clear to merge back onto the highway.
“It’s not my fault I sleep like shit every night. That’s why I started drinking all the caffeine in the first place.” Taehyung shook his head, and tossed the crumpled up wrapper up to bounce off the top of Jimin’s head.
Y/n laughed at the way Jimin had to restrain himself from pulling the car over and strangle him, picking up his cup and offering him another sip as a distraction that he took begrudgingly. His eyes flat in irritation.
“What? Do the ghosts of the estate keep you up~” Y/n’s tone was teasing, but she also couldn’t deny she was curious if they would shy away from the topic even two hours away from the property.
Taehyung gave such a large eye roll that she was sure would’ve made his eyes fall out if his head if he hadn’t had tilted it back with it. “Ugh, do you really believe all that stuff they say?”
That had her doing a double take in his direction. “And you don’t?” She was so busy looking back at him that she missed the sideways glance Jimin shot her way.
“No. It’s just a bunch of superstitions, and people predisposing themselves to look into everything too much just because the place is old.” He shrugged.
“No way you have been around as long as you have and don’t have a single doubt.” Y/n laughed in disbelief and turned herself forward to watch the road run beneath them from the front window.
“Not even a little bit.” He stood firm, and Y/n was genuinely at a loss for words. She turned to share a dubious look with Jimin, but found his gaze steady out the front of the windshield, a subtle way to avoid her eyes and make it look like he wasn’t.
“We are almost there, if you want to start making a game plan for when we get there?” Was the only thing Jimin’s soft voice said, and she wrinkled her nose in displeasure but submitted for the time being.
When they finally got into the city and slid into the spot behind her shared living situation, she was only slightly disappointed to see that none of her roommates were home- but as she turned the key and swung the door open to see the state of things- she was sure it was god taking pity on them. It was trashed. Her pots were filthy and stacked on top of a tower of dirty cereal bowls, and paper cups and plates were strewn about the apartment on any surface flat enough to hold them. The smell of stale air and dirty dish water made her blood boil, and she stomped over to unlock her bedroom door that she was thankful she had enough semblance to lock when she had made her speedy exit. Thankfully it was in the same condition she had left it, and she heaved a sigh of relief. She spun on her heels and wheeled back out into the shared space, taking it all in with a twitching brow and her hands planted on her hips. Turning her attention back to where Jimin and Taehyung were propping up the flattened cardboard boxes near the door that they had stuffed in the trunk.
“Alright. I’ll take to cleaning up what’s mine from out here- you guys can take my room and I’ll meet you there.” She began to roll up her sleeves but Taehyung stopped her by blocking her blazing path to the counter with a large hand on her exposed elbow.
“I got the kitchen stuff. Just send me the list you made- I’m used to being on dish duty anyways.” He pushed himself passed her and took off his hoodie to leave him in just a plain white t-shirt and tied it up around his hips, his hands already placing themselves under the running water to check its temperature.
She tried to protest but Jimin spun her by her shoulders and pushed her gently down the hall towards her room, leaving her in there by herself momentarily to grab half of the boxes left propped at the door. In the meantime to settle her rage, Y/n wandered over to her shelf and plucked her bluetooth speaker from it, smashing the power button on with more force than she needed. Seeing the blue light pop up, she connected her phone to turn on some background noise. She had to turn the volume up in order to hear it over Jimin’s loud clambering symphony of juggling as many cardboard boxes as he could through her small doorway.
They didn’t waste time getting to work, falling into a natural rhythm of Jimin unfolding and taping the boxes up and her filling them up in disorderly manner, shoveling things in and holding it down while he taped them shut. Once all the boxes propped open, she set him on stacking all of the totes from beneath her bed and closet by the front door, and she stuffed her clothes carelessly into trash bags. She didn’t need to make it nice, she would just be unpacking it again later, she told herself in order to excuse it. Everything else she was going to leave out for free for any other struggling college student to grab, she decided. She no longer needed her comforter set, or the cheap dorm furniture she had barely managed to scrounge the money for -but someone else might. Everything except the pots. Even if she didn’t need those, she’d be damned if she let them use those any longer. She’d either take them back to the estate's kitchen, or donate them. With the three of them, it only took a few hours to get her stuff packed away. Now they stood outside, the fresh chill of the early spring feeling good against the light sweat they had all worked up from lugging the boxes and furniture up and down the stairs. She was tasked with supervising, and Taehyung took up handing Jimin boxes, where the latter expertly packed them away in the open trunk-somehow making more space with each tote. The sound of a car honking behind her made her jump out of her skin, and Jimin nearly dropped the box of miscellaneous bedroom items in surprise. She couldn’t hold the fire that ignited in her gut as she watched her now ex-roommate pull into the spot next to them. Her hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail, donned in designer athleisure as she stepped from her expensive car and shot her a blinding smile that was practically dripping with joy. Not at seeing Y/n- no, she knew better than that- at seeing her leaving.
“I didn’t know you were coming today, I would’ve tried to be here.” Her perfume and overly preppy tone nearly suffocated Y/n as she was pulled into a lousy side hug. Her sights already set on her two friends loading the car. “You didn’t mention how hot your childhood friends were. If you had I would have definitely pressured you to take me back to visit the old place.” She whispered into Yn/s ear, a smirk evident in her tone.
Y/n blanched, and shoved her back with a stuttered out “Leave them be, Brit. We will be out of your hair shortly.” But Her ex-roommate didn’t seem to hear her, or she just didn’t care. Probably both Y/n thought as she watched her introduce herself to a very disinterested Jimin. Taehyung merely gave her a tight lipped smile as he lifted one of the large trash bags of her clothes on top of the stack of boxes. Y/n watched her roommates' obvious attempts at flirting with them with poorly disguised disgust; her relentless attempts only stopping briefly when Jimin turned to slam the trunk shut over her belongings. He didn’t spare her a glance as he stepped around her to the driver's side door, opening it up and grabbing his watered down drink and raising to his lips to take a sip. Popping his head up, he rested his elbows on the hood of the car and locked eyes with Y/n, completely ignoring her roommate attempting to block his line of sight.
“You ready to go back home?” His agitation was layered between a thin veil of politeness, his people pleasing nature the only thing stopping him from being outwardly mean.
Brit glanced back and forth between the two of them, taking a step towards Taehyung only to be cut off as he jumped into the backseat and slammed the door in her face, his own looking up at her from behind the tinted window with a boxy smile and a cheeky wave of his hand. Y/n reveled in her ex-roommates floundering expression having not been used to rejection, let alone from two people at once.
“Gladly.” Y/n couldn’t help the petty grin spreading over her features, her face deviously bright with delight at one of her tormentors getting her just desserts. She pushed past Brit and casually slipped into the passenger side seat, not bothering to give her any more attention.
“Wait!” She clomped up to the driver’s side where Jimin was still lowering himself into his seat, him pausing to regard her with a sickly sweet smile. “Would I be able to get your number before you go? Maybe I can show you around D.C the next time you come to visit.” She bit her lip in a seductive manner, her eyes half lidded as she encroached on his personal space.
His smile never left his face, but his tone was icy. “No thank you, I think I’ve seen enough.” Promptly shutting his door and bending over to buckle his seat belt. Y/n heard Taehyung’s window release pressured air as it rolled down a couple inches, just enough for him to call up at her.
“Don’t take offense to him- it’s just after seeing the state of the apartment, we just can't be sure how important cleanliness is to you.” He didn't give her time to respond by rolling his window back up quickly to shield his shit eating grin. Y/n couldn’t stop the surprised bark of laughter that wrenched from her chest as Jimin quickly backed out of the spot and turned back into the side alley. Taehyung joined in with his own maniacal giggles, the two of their faces red as they slumped into their seats to face each other- Their hands grabbing at each other aimlessly in an effort to high five through their struggling breaths.
“Now that was a bit impolite…” Jimin’s words said one thing, but his poorly concealed grin said another.
“No- I’m a number one feminist and will always be. But sometimes when someone chooses to only sit as low to the ground as possible, the only blows you can throw at them are from their own level.” Y/n finally managed to contain herself, her breathing labored as she used the sites filtering from her window to plant her feet back on the ground.
“Agreed.” Taehyung's voice was muffled by his knees, having bent forward in an attempt to calm himself down from their shared laughing fit. Jimin had to bite his lip to stop his grin from spreading any further, and reached with his hand to turn the radio up to tune out Taehyung's residual snickers from the back.
_______________________________________
The car was suffocating with the smell of garlic and oregano, a stack of pizzas precariously balanced on Y/n’s lap. Hoseok had called halfway through their trip home with an awfully coincidental craving for Italian food from a restaurant that just so happened to be on their route home. They had bribed him into agreeing to help unpack the car by saying they’d pay for it, which worked in their favor: because like their hero he had himself, Jungkook, and two luggage carts lined up at the edge of the driveway to load all of her belongings on. Jungkook didn’t look at her, nor move to greet her when she got out of the car, but she just took it as him still being nervous to be super social with her around everyone else. While Jimin took it upon himself to organize the stuff neatly on the carts, Taehyung and Jungkook had been assigned to carry each item from the car to his side with Y/n and Hoseok to hold the carts in place to keep them from rolling.
“How was the drive?” Hoseok chirped over his full cart to her half full one.
“It was fine! I realized halfway home that it probably would’ve been faster for you to just get me from my apartment rather than the Philly station last week- but oh well. Now I know for next time.” Y/n’s eyes followed Jungkook and Taehyung, as the latter playfully pushed the former out of the way in an unspoken race to the cart, triggering Jungkook’s competitive nature to leave him in the dust each time he tried. They must all be on lunch break, because Jungkook was still in a set of red jogger scrub pants and a red Wörner Hotel and Estate workman's shirt.
Hoseok playfully whined. “You don’t mean you’re going to go back to D.C again, do you?” He had one foot propped on his cart to idly push it back and forth.
She hesitated to answer, distracted by Jimin scolding the two younger men who nearly pushed him into the growing stack on his cart in their efforts to beat each other to his side first. A smile finding itself at home on her face at the spectacle. “Actually, I guess I’m not sure. I’ll see what kind of fun events are planned for the anniversary year and then I’ll decide.” She directed her grin at him, and his grew even brighter than she thought possible in return.
“I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop for all of them then. I don’t want to have to drive you back to D.C ever again.” He winked back at her, but his words held more weight than his face and tone gave away.
The sound of the trunk slamming shut shook her attention from their conversation, watching as Jungkook and Taehyng each fought the other to see who could open the passenger side door where the pizzas were left first.
She gestured with her arm to the two of them “Are they always like this with each other?” As she asked, Taehyung managed to wrench the door open with a victorious shout. His preemptive celebration proved to be his downfall. Because in the split second he raised his hand up, Jungkook swiped his underneath them and grabbed the pizzas, taking off in a sprint back up the side path to the estate. The first real smile she had seen on him in nearly five years rounding his cheeks as he ran, and and equally giddy Taehyung hot on heels. It made her heart warm with nostalgia at the sight, even if she was slightly bummed at his insistence to not look at her that way.
“Unfortunately, yes. Tae is the only one resilient enough to physically challenge him, and Jungkook relishes that challenge since all of us have given up trying.” Jimin rolled his eyes, tossing the last trash bag of clothes onto her cart. “I’ll push this, you just guide us where to go” Jimin gestured her to take the front, and Hoseok gave her a friendly salute as she took the lead. The two carts trailing after her steps.
Jungkook and Taehyung had met them at the front with the doors open, both winded and no pizza boxes in sight. With the five of them, they had her stuff piled in the hall outside her door in no time. Her excuse for not putting it in yet was that she wanted to bring it as she unpacked, but in reality the thought of going into her room yet had her skin crawling and her hand itching to go up and poke the tender bruises hidden on her neck. They all stumbled into the dining room to enjoy the cooling food, tired and drained.
Jungkook sat in the seat furthest away from her, and purposefully kept his eyes either on Taehyung or his plate. Y/n tried not to be offended, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe she had pushed his boundaries too far too soon with the hug last night, but she tried not to let her thoughts linger on it by turning her attention to the slice of pizza hanging from her hands. As soon as Jungkook had scarfed down almost half of a pizza, he took off back to the hotel without so much as a wave to anyone. But maybe that was a normal occurrence, because no one seemed to bat an eye at his behavior.
Taehyung stretched with a deafening yawn. “I’m going to take a nap- gotta make sure I’m not falling asleep during rehearsals tonight.” Rising from his chair he clicked his tongue and waved at everyone, disappearing with the sound of his footsteps bounding up the stairs.
The three of them that were left behind seemed content sitting in silence for a moment. Jimin’s eyes were clouded with fatigue, and if his slow bites were anything to go by, he would probably be stealing Taehyung’s ideas for an afternoon nap himself. She decided she would break the silence, finding it odd that Hoseok hadn’t jumped to do so himself.
“Did you work today?” she dropped her piece of crust next to the already nibbled on on her plate and dusted her hands off.
Hoseok grunted around his slice, pulling away from it with a thin string of cheese connecting his mouth and the slice. “No not yet- I work tonight at the hotel convenience center from 6-10.” He blotted at the grease left on his chin from the bite with a paper napkin.
Y/n nodded passively, noting that he seemed a bit more quiet than usual. She eyed him from over her glass of water, watching as he kept shifting in his seat: his back straightening and slouching back down, or shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Are you feeling okay?” She tilted her head at him as he shifted again to the left of his seat.
He immediately halted his movements and nodded quickly- almost too quickly. “Oh yeah. Just get antsy sometimes when I sit. Especially from having a job that forces me to sit for long periods of time.” His response was nonchalant, and so was his posture. But the way in which his head sharply twitched to the side -a tick he has had since childhood- told her he was leaving something else out of his response. She didn’t pry, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. So she dropped it with a shrug.
Once they had finished eating and the leftovers were wrapped, Jimin excused himself immediately. Her suspicions were correct about Jimin, had not more than a second after the fridge door had been closed did he bid goodbye to go lay down with eyes so heavy they were practically closed. Before Hoseok could slip away from her, she stopped him on his way out of the dining room.
“Sorry I haven’t gotten to spend as much time with you lately. I’ve just had a lot on my mind with coming back, that’s all.” She shrugged apologetically, and looked into his eyes to try and get a read on his response.
“Gah what are you talking about? We see each other every day now. Does our time playing games together not mean anything to you?” His tone was coated in mock offense.
“No, I mean just us. I feel like I’ve gotten to spend time one on one with almost everyone except you.” She brought her fingertips up to fiddle with the pendant of a necklace hanging around her neck.
‘Oohh, you want to spend alone time with your ex-husband. I see how it is. How scandalous~” His grin was teasing as he wiggled his eyebrows at her with a laugh.
“Oh shut up. You know what I mean.” She shoved his shoulder back as he attempted to bring her into a hug.
“Well then what do you have in mind?” His smile was warm as he looked at her with gleaming eyes.
Y/n wracked her brain for an idea, thinking through the pamphlets she had stacked in her bedside drawer when her eyes caught the upright phonograph in the corner. She turned to give him a simpering look.
“Care to join me for a dance? You said you don't go in for another three hours- I’m sure you can spare me five minutes of your time.” She skipped over to one of the smaller record holders that housed a stack of rotating favorites in it before he could respond. Plucking up a Glenn Miller Vinyl, she propped open the heavy top and carefully slid the old worn disc out of the package and placed it on the table. She took a hold of the small crank, and began to slowly push it in small circles. The steady ticking was the only sound in the room as she waited to feel the resistance kick in. Once it did she turned to face him, finding him still standing where she had left him looking almost lost.
His usually upbeat gaze flickered momentarily, and for a second she thought he might turn her down- something that would have never crossed her mind as he was never known to turn down a dance growing up. But he shook his shoulders out, a reserved smile plastered onto his lips as Moonlight Serenade’s first note wobbled from the phonograph next to her.
His voice was low. “Of course.”
He came around the table to her side, taking her hand softly in his own and placing it to perch on his shoulder before settling his hand on the dip of her waist. Grabbing her other hand, he led them in a gentle sway in time with the music. After she seemed to gain enough footing of the motions he deemed her ready to move in slow circles. Guiding her around the room as they rocked, she found the motions coming back to her with practised ease- having danced with him more times than she could count as children. If she looked hard enough, she could almost see his youthful face tugging her onto the dancefloor of the ballroom during one of the many parties hosted, or just during the day for fun to teach her what he had learned from his mother that day.
“Do you think you remember enough for me to spin you, or should we stay like this?” His voice was right next to her ear with how close he was holding her, he had to pull his chin back to look at her face.
“I think I’m confident enough to give it a go.”
He lifted the hand he was holding and spun her twice in a large turn, letting her hang there for a second before giving a firm tug on her arm to twirl back into him.
He clicked his tongue in approval. “Not too bad.”
“I haven't had much opportunity to practice since I’ve been gone.” She wrinkled her nose in shame.
“Well we will have to change that. Jimin and Taehyung would love to take you dancing down at the Adelaide I’m sure.” Hoseok easily pulled them back into a slow graceful step, moving them in wider circles around the room.
“Not you?” She looked at him hopefully.
He breathed out a sigh through his nose. “I don’t dance as much as I used to. I’m probably too rusty to be down there competing with them.”
“Well then, we will have to change that. You and I can get ‘unrusty’ together.” She gripped his hand a bit tighter as he swayed them backwards.
He gave her a rueful smile and dropped her hand. The song coming to an end much faster than she had wanted it to. “We’ll see.” The next song started to pick up, but he was already making his way out of the dining room and towards the foyer.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n. Thanks for the dance.” He nodded over his shoulder, before following in Taehyung and Jimin’s footsteps up the stairs. Leaving her by herself with only Glenn Miller’s ‘String of Pearls’ to fill the void where Hoseok once stood.
She wasn’t by herself for very long however, because a very frantic looking Namjoon stumbled through the doorway before the song could end. His eyes found her still standing where Hoseok had left her, probably looking a bit lost by herself in the dining room.
“You. Greenhouse. Now.” He pointed at her with his finger with an authoritative glare. His eyes were stern, clearly he wasn’t going to be taking no for an answer. He barely gave her the time to fumble the record back in its sleeve, watching every step she made through the dining room and out the door he had left open. He shut the door swiftly behind them and took the steps two at a time to get to where she was already making her way down the path. His shoulders were tense, and his steps quick as he led the way to the door, yanking it open without much thought. She kept her head down as she entered the threshold, feeling like a scolded child as she planted her feet next to each other awaiting his next command.
“Let me see it.” His tone was not to be argued with and she immediately snuck a shy glance up at him. He was sucking his cheeks in, and he had both hands on his hips with one brow raised in a silent challenge.
“I need soap. I covered it up.” Her voice felt small coming from herself.
He huffed, and slid past her into the storage room.
“He’s not mad. He just doesn’t beat around the bush when he’s serious. Probably where Jungkook gets it from.”
Yoongi’s voice made her head snap up to find the source. She hadn’t even noticed him hunched on one of the back stools, black twine and an array of dried plants in front of him that he was fiddling with.
“I didn’t get to take my lunch yet- it's been too busy. But I was able to just leave a bit early entirely in its place. Once we get everything in order we will head up there.” He didn’t look up from the small bundle he was stacking. He seemed to also be nursing the wounds of a scathing Namjoon if the way his ears were twinged pink and his head lowered was anything to go by.
Namjoon rounded back around the corner, a bottle of hand soap and a clean rag in his hands held up for her to see. “Will this work?”
She nodded meekly, and he didn’t wait for anything else as he stalked into the nursery room. She took that as her cue to follow.
“Yoongi, grab some solomon's seal off of the shelf. The fresher the specimen the better. If it’s dry, get some hot water and pour just enough on it to rehydrate it and give it a mash with something heavy.” Namjoon called out from the back of the large room, his voice echoing off of the walls and making its way back to Yoongi in the other room. She had already left the entryway too early to see if he complied, but she could hear the distant clinking of some jars and assumed he had.
Namjoon was leaning over a large sink, his hands turning the spigot until the water billowed off a gentle steam by the time her timid steps made it to his side. He turned, grabbing a stool in each hand and scraping them across the floor to sit in front of the sink. He didn’t ask her to sit, just gave her an expectant look until she lowered herself down onto its surface. He saturated the rag with hot water and lathered it with the soap until it foamed, only sitting when he was satisfied with how it looked.
“Let me know if I’m pressing too hard, or if you want to take over.” He folded her turtle neck as far down as he could, and took the warm rag over her neck in circular motions. She winced at the abrasive rag running across the sensitive surface, something she should have really thought about before she did the second layer of setting spray. She didn’t speak up however, knowing very well that any pressure would probably hurt. She could tell the moment that the make up started to wash away, his breath hitching and a sudden long exhale following the pause. He didn’t stop his movements, just making them a hair lighter.
She swallowed nervously. The quiet getting under her skin and making her self conscious.
“How bad has it gotten? It was pretty bad this morning when I woke up.”
He still withheld any answers, giving her an austere glance instead.
“I’m sorry. I tried to run…” She felt like she didn’t know what else to say but to apologize.
“Don’t. I’m not mad at you.” He halted his scrubbing in favor of rinsing the now discolored rag off to try and wash some of the product from its fibers. “I’m mad at the guy who’s unharmed, sitting at my table right now.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.” Y/n immediately jumped to his defense, not willing to sit here and have anyone else blame him for something he couldn’t control.
“Like hell he didn’t.” Namjoon scoffed, lathering more soap onto the rag and holding it up. She raised her chin defiantly while he resumed his cleaning.
“He didn’t. Stop blaming him for something he didn’t do, he’s trying his best to fix everything.” Her voice wobbled as Namjoon passed the cloth along the front of her throat near the front of her throat.
“That’s exactly what I mean.” His tone came out harsher than he had intended, and his cheeks dusted pink. “Look- I know he has good intentions, but when you poke the bear, you’re poking the fucking bear. It doesn’t matter if the bear is doing something wrong, it’s still going to lash out at you for poking it.”
“We hadn’t even done anything yet. Jungkook and I didn’t accept his offer until after.” Y/n tilted her head to the opposite side for him to have easier access to it.
Namjoon made a noise of surprise from the back of his throat. “Jungkook? No way.”
“Yes way, he even agreed before I did.” She folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
This seemed to make Namjoon think for a moment, the stroking of the rag slowing down with his thoughts. When it didn’t look like he’d comment further, Y/n pushed.
“Namjoon?” Her voice was warbly again as he went over a particularly stubborn patch of setting spray.
He hummed in acknowledgment, but didn’t meet her curious eyes.
“Jungkook had seemed pretty torn about something my mom had told him. And I think I may have made it worse because he won’t even look at me today.” She followed his movements as he turned to wring the cloth out again under running water, repeating the same motions he had previously.
“What was it?”
“My mom had told him he wasn’t allowed near me because something about his abilities could accidentally hurt me. But I don’t see how he ever could, or why that would bother him so much.” Whatever she said struck him from his cycle, and he lowered the rag to rest on his lap. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching briefly before he held his mouth open in search of his words.
“What did you do to upset him?” He opened his eyes, scanning them over his clean up work. He didn’t comment on what her mother had said, but he didn’t look pleased.
“I hugged him. We used to do it all the time, so I didn’t think anything of it. I should have asked him first with how long it's been…” She trailed off, feeling suddenly embarrassed at the confession.
A small smile perked on his lips and he brought the rag up to wipe away any leftover soap suds. “I doubt that’s the reason- not when what your mom said to him has been resurfaced for him to grapple with.”
“What does it mean though?” Y/n was prying, and she knew it. But she wasn’t sure if Jungkook would ever open up enough to tell her on his own.
Namjoon dropped the soiled rag into the sink and turned the faucet off. “It really is his story to tell Y/n.”
She visibly deflated, her hopes dashed.
He rose from his seat, pushing it back where he had found it. “But like I said- he’s probably just processing what your mom said and facing some of those insecurities that come along with it. Let's go back to the front. The solomon’s seal should be good to use by now if he followed my instructions.”
Yoongi was where they had left him,still fiddling with the twine with pink ears. The only difference was now a ceramic bowl of what she assumed had been the solomon’s seal, now an earthy mush. His dark eyes flitted up to watch them enter, and widened marginally at the sight of her fully formed blemishes.
“Jesus. Y/n, are you sure you don’t need to go anywhere?” He wasn’t hiding his concern at all, the twine dropping onto the table and long forgotten.
She shook her head. “No, I will just keep covering it during the day the best I can and hope for the best. I don’t want any law enforcement getting involved when my mother already has a vendetta against you.”
“And you will put this on every day until they are gone.” Namjoon cut off Yoongi’s response, holding up the small ceramic bowl for her to inspect. “Soloman’s seal has been used as a topical agent for bruising for a long time. It’s not a replacement for medical care, but it's better than nothing.” He dipped two fingers in grabbing a large amount of the salve, and smeared the slimy mixture all over her throat in a ring. “You might experience a bit of swelling over the next day or so, and your voice might be hoarse. Try and avoid others for the next two days- we can say you caught a cold or have allergies or something.” Once he finished pushing the tincture around to where he wanted it to go, he went back into the nursery room where she heard the sink turn on.
Y/n moved to sit across from Yoongi, scooting the stool in and folding her hands on the table in front of her. “So…what’s the plan?”
“Well step one, we need to prepare the ingredients into different charms. I know my way around it a tiny bit, but Namjoon knows more about all of the properties and what to and what not to use.” He ran a finger thoughtfully over his lip. “It would actually be beneficial for you to help in some capacity- with it being your space and all. Do you want to help assemble, or do you want to finish them?” He laid his hands flat on the surface of the table and leaned over the small accumulation of items in front of him.
She looked at the twine, and small mesh tea satchels stacked on the table and she thought. The wrapping part looked the easiest- and would give her the ability to learn from watching what they did- so that’s what she chose with her finger pointed at the pile. “That part.”
He chuckled at her short response, and slid the stack over to her side of the table right as Namjoon swung back around the corner and blew past her to his shelves with freshly cleaned hands. He rushed around the room snatching up different glass jars as he went, only stopping to place some on the table when his arms got too full. He disappeared one more time around the storage room door to clammer around in there, emerging with multiple bundles of dried branches and sprigs of different kinds and placing them gingerly on the table in front of him.
“Alright, are we ready?” Namjoon propped one knee on his stool while he addressed them, looking more like a college professor than her childhood friend. They both nodded in response, Y/n chirping out a childish “Yes, Sir!” that earned her a non serious glare from Namjoon and a muffled laugh from Yoongi.
Choosing to ignore her he started on dividing the plants in front of him into categories. “We are probably going to want to cleanse the space first, so we will start with what we need for that then move onto the wards. Rule number one of cleansing is to keep it simple: Too many over complicated things muddy your intentions and make your goal less succinct. Each person has their preferred method. Some people do best with smoke cleansing through either hand made bundles, or incense. Others like to do sound cleansing, grids, sigils or some combination of all of the above.”
Namjoon lifted up two large piles of stalks for her to see. “This is lavender, and common garden sage that I grew last summer. If you want, you can also add other herbs to it like rosemary, eucalyptus or cedar- but I like to stay with only one or two things in our bundles. You can always make two different kinds, or supplement with incense. Whatever makes you feel the best.”
He placed them back on the table and began to pull pieces out carefully so as to not damage them. “Incase you ever want to do this on your own, it’s important to note that you do not buy or use any bundles with anything labeled white sage. Not only is that a closed practice so it wont work, but it’s also an endangered plant -so it’s best to stay away from it entirely. From what I’ve read, blue sage and home grown garden sage is fine. I’m also just an advocate for growing it yourself when possible obviously, then you can always be one-hundred percent sure where it comes from without question.”
Y/n nodded obediently as Namjoon spoke, soaking in as much information as she could from his words. She picked up one of the mesh tea bags and began to mess with the ties while he expounded further. Feeling oddly similar to how she felt in the few in person college lectures she had attended.
“What’s important is both acknowledging historical prevalence in spiritual association, while also giving things their own meaning to yourself. For example: Violets are usually used for heightening spirituality- but I personally find them comforting and love using them in some of my own protective work. Individuality is just as important as tradition.” He finished trimming the sage and lavender to the height he deemed acceptable. “Maybe this upcoming week that’s something we can work on together, finding what plants trip your trigger and make you feel safe, comforted, powerful, and all of the above.
Namjoon finally sat completely in his stool, shimmying himself forward and holding up a handful of each and passing it to Yoongi, who took it and began to stack them neatly in front of him. “I will pick out what we use today, and then I’ll throw out a couple options for the two of you to add as you please. When we get to the warding you can be a bit more personal with it.” He cleared his throat and began a demonstration for Y/n on how to tie them. Taking the small bundle gingerly in his hand, and winding it tightly to make sure no loose leaves fall, explaining that anything falling loose can be a safety hazard.
They fell into a quiet rhythm after that. Namjoon explaining the properties of each plant he brought onto the table and handing them off to Yoongi to sort into neat woven stacks before Y/n would take them and wind the twine carefully around each bundle. When it came to the tea bags, he instructed her to make one for each doorway and window in her room as well as for her bed from the plant selection in front of them. He then brought out small candles and pieces of parchment, drawing designs on them in pen. Smearing oils and dripping different colored wax on them.
“What are those?” Y/n asked, wanting to know as much as she could in order to protect herself.
Namjoon twitched his nose and kept his eyes down, following the drip of black wax onto the paper. “A sigil. In my personal opinion, I think when putting up wards you do it with someone you trust enough to keep certain parts secret from each other.That way if one of us were to end up…compromised or scared, there’s the safeguard of something being there that we don’t know what the exact intentions are and how to counter them. You should each make something that The other doesn’t know about. Whether that’s today, or later next week. We can trade off- Jungkook too.” He snuffed out the candle with his fingers, and folded the paper closed so the wax stuck it together like glue.
“We?” Yoongi’s voice was gruff. The side eye he tossed Namjoon held a thousand -seemingly irritated- unsaid words behind it.
“Yes. We. You dragged me too far into this, and I can’t in good conscience let you two keep going without offering my expertise to prevent whatever the hell last night was from happening again.” Namjoons face held a condescending air as he gave Yoongi a pointed look.
“Fucking hell. Years I’ve been trying…” Yoongi shook his head and looked aimlessly upwards with a disbelieving scoff.
Y/n finished tying up the final pouch and slouched with a tired sigh. Her hand came up to pick at the dried paste on her neck, in the middle of peeling off an entire section when Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s chiding simultaneously rained down on her in a chorus of “Don’t pick at it.” and “Leave it.”
She shot her hand down to her lap, her lips puffing out in hidden giggles at how similar they were behaving. Just as she was beginning to mockingly mimic the two of them, someone knocked on the green house door. The intrusion catching all of them off guard- Jungkook would just usually walk in. Her eyes ran themselves over to the foggy surface. The outline is tall and wide, and unmistakably masculine. The man whistled jovially before knocking again.
Y/n’s hair rose on the back of her neck as she recognized the whistle, having heard it countless times as a child. She almost snapped her neck to look at the two men in front of her in full blown panic. She needed to hide, and quickly. Their wide eyes sharing the same sentiment as they bounced all over the room in search of where to shove her..
Her father knocked on the door again, calling out for Namjoon as he did so.
_________________________________________
“One moment- Be right there!” Namjoon’s voice was breathless as he wrenched Yoongi from his seat by his shoulder and around to her side of the table, pulling her stumbling along with him as he passed her and into the nursery room.
His voice was hushed and urgent. “Take her out the back. Now. Don’t let anyone else see her-”
“I know. I got it. You go.” Yoongi grabbed her hand and tugged her to the back corner of the nursery in a run. Before he was able to open the door, she could hear her father boisterously greet Namjoon with almost too much enthusiasm.
“Hey kid! I came to talk about those plans you sent over.” His voice trailed off just as Yoongi managed to unlatch the heavy slightly rusted lock. “Huh that’s weird. I could’ve sworn I heard Y/n in here. Is that her in the back?”
She heard his loud steps start towards the room, but Yoongi wasted no time shoving her out first, closing the door until he was just peeking at her through a sliver. “Run. I can sense Jungkook, he’s probably back from the gym.”
She was still frozen for a moment as she heard her father’s voice get louder, greeting Yoongi from the entrance.
“Go. Now.” Yoongi hissed once more, slamming the door closed and locking it. His response to her father muffled behind the thick frosty panes. She jerked into motion, her feet carrying her as fast as she could from behind the greenhouse and up towards the front of the estate, avoiding the path in case her father happened to look for her there.
The dewy damp grass crunched beneath her feet as she ran, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a pair of black boots running alongside her from her peripheral, mimicking the same sounds. But when she glanced back she saw nothing- just her own footsteps indenting the grass from where they had landed. She didn’t care to stop and investigate, running all the way up to the front steps, and pulling open the door with more force than necessary to tumble inside. Her feet carried her up the steps two at a time, and down the hall to Jungkook’s room where she knocked in quick succession. He barely had time to open the door more than an inch before she flew in through the gap.
“Close it! Please.” She managed to get out in between her labored breaths. Jungkook didn’t take time to ask questions, shutting the door immediately and locking both locks. He spun back around to look at her with unveiled concern.
“Are you hurt?” His tone wavered, too caught off guard to mask his emotions quick enough and letting them bleed through.
She shook her head. “May I sit?” She must’ve been more out of shape then she remembered, still struggling to catch her breath from her sprint.
Relief mellowed out his features, and he gave a curt nod. She didn’t hesitate to round the edge of his metal bed frame and plop herself onto the edge of his neutral toned comforter. He hovered up to her, scanning her with his blackened eyes. “What happened?”
“I was at the greenhouse helping Yoongi and Namjoon make wards and stuff for my room, when my dad showed up. I ran from the back and up to you before he could see me- Yoongi said you were home and to find you.” Her breaths were slowing down as she calmed both her mind and her heart.
He merely hummed in response, standing over her still, but his eyes were melting back into their brown counterparts.
“Can I stay here for now? I don’t know how long they’ll be and I have no interest in unpacking in my room by myself or risk running into him.” She leaned back onto her hands, a weathered chuckle escaping her lips.
He nodded. “I just need to shower. I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed a fallen stack of clothes he must’ve thrown on the shelf near his door when he had rushed to open it, and slipped into his bathroom with rushed grace. She took the time to make herself comfortable, laying her back onto his bed and leaving her legs dangling off to kick around aimlessly. To try and keep herself occupied, she practiced recalling all the information she had learned from Namjoon that day, busing her mind with organizing the facts in her brain as best as she could to keep her anxiety at bay over how her friends were holding up -especially Namjoon and his inability to lie. She held up one hand as the nerves tried to creep up on her, and began to tick off her fingers repeatedly. Rosemary: Protects one from negative spirits. Clove: Protection and luck. Thyme: Protects from, and removes negative attachments. She wracked her brain for the next one getting further lost in thought, her dread for having to unpack bleeding into her productive thoughts and making her feel a childish reluctance to move forward with her day for the sake of not having to. The only thing keeping her from begging Jimin to help her with his expert organizational skills was the recollection that Yoongi had said they would meet up tonight to make a plan of action. She didn’t have to distract herself for very long, as within 5 minutes she heard Jungkook’s shower turn off, with him emerging moments later in a pair of sweats and a clean hoodie.
He shook his wet hair out, and tossed his towel and laundry into the hamper placed by the bathroom entrance. His eyes looked for her the instant he entered, and locked onto her scowling features with a questioning eyebrow raise.
“What’s on your neck?” He stood in front of her now, looking down at her with a scrutinizing glare.
She shot up from her reclined position, in her haste to recollect herself she had forgotten she had sticky leaves on her skin that could get on his comforter. “Sorry! It’s Soloman’s Seal.” She took extra care to recall its name, the syllables leaving her mouth clumsily. “Namjoon said it should help with the bruising.”
He sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in thought making him look angry for a moment before shaking his head. “No doctor, huh?”
“Nope.” She gave him an impish grin. “Stubborn and reckless, remember?”
This made the ghost of a smile grace his features, and he sat next to her on the bed. The same way they had sat the day prior.
“Right. How could I forget?” His tone was the most playful she had heard it be directed at her since she had arrived a week ago, and it made her heart soar at the baby steps they were making with each other again.
“I’ll be too busy unpacking and fighting demons tonight for one anyways- remember?” She nudged his elbow with hers in an attempt to keep the tone light, but he didn’t seem to appreciate jokes about it as much as Yoongi did. She remembered the way he had closed himself off last night about what her mom had said to him and immediately felt guilty- backtracking her joke before he could get upset again. “Sorry- I know you’re not as comfortable with it yet.”
He looked off towards his door, his eyes distant as he let out a quiet “ s’okay”.
Her cheeks felt warm with shame for ruining the inch of himself he had shown before she clumsily made him close off again. She hastily tried to change the subject,reaching for the first thing her mind could cling to.
“I learned about some cool new plants today- well not new per say, just new properties- Do you want to hear about them?” She knew it wasn’t a strong conversation starter, but she was trying her best with her limited social skills.
He remained silent for a moment, thinking. For a second she thought he might’ve closed off again, his fists clenching and unclenching next to him. But then to her surprise, he reverted their discussion down a new path.
“Y/n if I tell you something, will you make me a promise in return?” His eyes, when he turned them on her were molton brown with emotion, and so incredibly vulnerable.
The unexpected sight made her throat close, her voice escaping her. The only thing she could do was nod robotically. He turned his gaze forward again, his breath quickening slightly and his tattooed hand coming up to mess with a piece of his curled wet hair.
“Do you remember anything about my mom?”
If she was taken aback before, she was practically sent to the moon with how unpredictable the quiet question had been. Noticing her silence, he turned to look at her, patiently waiting for a response. Gazing into his eyes, she thought back as far as she could reach into her memories. She hadn’t gotten to spend much time with her before she died, having succumbed to stage 4 breast cancer by the time she was four.
“Just that she was very sick. I don’t remember much from before that.” She gave him a sorrowful shake of her head.
He sighed again. “That’s what I expected. My memories of her are hazy as is, so I can’t really expect you to remember her that well.” He brought a nervous hand up to fiddle with his lip ring.
“My mom was like me and Yoongi. Special.” He cleared his throat, his voice already sounding strained around the last word. “I don’t know how much you know about South Korean spiritualism, but it’s a pretty divisive thing. Most people look down on it, with I guess the closest equivalent to what we call psychics here being called shamans there- one of the most controversial aspects. The disdain towards it had a lot to do with confucian and later christian influence, but either way it’s not exactly something you talk about super openly. Especially not when my mom was a kid.”
He avoided her eyes as he spoke, choosing to let them roam about his room. “Anyways- She had started to show signs of her abilities at a young age, and her parents were not spiritual whatsoever. They had been certain that she must have had schizophrenia or some other kind of mental health issue, and dragged her to as many psychiatrists as they could. It made her really struggle to accept herself, and eventually did make her struggle mentally as a result. That was until she met my dad.” He coughed, visibly uncomfortable to be speaking so much. Y/n didn’t pressure him, instead letting him take his time by sitting reserved by his side.
“When I came along, she was elated. I found her journal in highschool, and all she wrote about was how happy she was to be here with my dad, and to be around so many people that loved her. Your grandmother being a notable person she wrote about often.” He spared her a quick glance, and her face must’ve read with obvious befuddlement because he clarified further. “Your grandmother was also spiritual, but the German American folk and christian hybrid kind. My mom wrote about how my dad would sit and translate their conversations for hours when he would come home from work, my mom and your grandmother trading ways they dealt with spirits and their own experiences. She and all the other parents here treated my mom with such kindness that it helped her really accept herself and her abilities.” His voice trailed off, cracking so minutely she almost missed it.
“Then when I was born she really struggled to breastfeed. They tried all they could naturally, but relented, eventually going to a consultant that referred them to oncology. Then there were many other doctors after that. Turns out it was breast cancer affecting her supply.” His voice fully broke this time, and his eyes glossed over. “She always said I was the reason that she was able to find out as soon as she did, and that without me they probably wouldn’t have been able to even try treatment at all without me.” His chin wobbled slightly, and Y/n felt her own eyes begin to water. Reaching out with her hand, and hesitantly placing it on his arm. She didn’t want to force anything more, but wanted to let him know she was there.
He took in a shuddering breath. “The day she died, I was there. We knew she didn’t have that much longer, so I would spend any afternoon I wasn’t out with you sitting in her room. Practicing both the English and Korean alphabets together and coloring. That afternoon, I had been telling her all about the flowers they had planted that year for the spring, and trying to recreate them for her with crayons. Then she suddenly sat up all excited, and asked me to take her to see them.” He let out a wet chuckle, his brown eyes nearly shielded with the thick well of tears that hung on their edges. “I was a kid, and was just so excited to see her get up I didn’t think anything of it. I took her hand and led her out front, my drawings forgotten on the floor. I took her down the front steps, and around the side to look at the flower garden. I was making sure to take the time to show her all of my favorites. And without thinking I let go of her hand to pick a few for her.”
Without warning Jungkook grabbed her hand securely in his like she had held his yesterday, and let their intertwined hands sit between them. Y/n squeezed back reassuringly.
“When I turned around to hand them to her, she was gone. Like she had never been there in the first place. I ran back into the house, calling for her everywhere. But it didn’t matter. Her body was still in her bed where she had left it to follow me out the front door.” The tears freely fell from his eyes, no longer being able to keep them in. Y/n’s own fell not long after, and she quickly brought her free hand up to wipe them away.
“I blamed myself- sometimes I still do. Maybe If I hadn’t let go of her hand I could’ve kept her with me. Brought her back inside and gotten more time with her. A part of me knows that’s not how it works- but I can’t help it. Ever since then, my abilities have kicked in full force: just like hers had when she was younger. I started seeing everything. I can see where spirits are, I can get a really good reading on people…and I can tell when people are going to die. My mom called it the gift of an angel- to guide those with a friendly smile during their last moments. But I always felt like it was a curse. Watching people leave but not being able to do anything to stop them. Sometimes I couldn’t even tell they were dead, like my mom.”
Y/n couldn’t stop the sniffles that bubbled out from her nose, and the tightness in her throat made it difficult to swallow. This time he turned to her, his face wet and his nose pink. But his eyes were an open book: Scared, worried, and distraught- yet more determined than she had ever seen- not even the looks he would give her when they were kids compared.
“Y/n I know what Yoongi wants to do. He wants to talk to the spirits, and even traverse the spiritual realm to do so. I know this because he's been asking me to for years. I need you to promise me that when we do - that if he ever sends you in there- you won’t let go of my hand.” As if to emphasize his point, he lifted their hands and squeezed hers as tight as he could without hurting her.
“Jungkook-”
“Promise me Y/n.” His eyes were unyielding, and his face was crumpled in on itself in desperate anguish.
Her breath left her mouth in quivering waves, another tear tracking down her cheek.
“I promise, Jungkook.”
_________________________________________
A/N I'm so sorry y'all. I cried so much writing this chapter lololol. Tried to balance the sad with fluff. No spooky times...for now
Jeongguk loves Soa. Soa loves Jeongguk. It's the kind of love you see in movies, read about in fairytales. The of love that doesn't belong in their world. Business deals mean happy marriages. Displays of affection are only done for show.
How will these two manage to successfully break the cycle? Follow Soa and Jeongguk as they grow their love while fighting the deception, greed and power within their families.
-
"Would it kill you to fake a smile?" Taehyung mumbles, handing a glass containing a concoction I have no interest in taking. My eyes rake over the drink, lips speaking a quiet "No thanks" which he ignores by shoving it into my hand. Taehyung gives me a once over, brown eyes staring at my face as if to figure out what I'm thinking.
Dressed in a navy blue suit, I can admit that my brother looks dashing. He fits the image he portrays. Educated, well mannered and poised. He'd been taught well by Seokjin on how to appear in public. That's how he managed to look completely calm even though we both know he's far from it. His constant drinks are proof thereof.
A month ago, mother and father had informed Taehyung and me that Namjoon would be getting married. Not for love, like most people do, but in order to obtain shares from another business. We'd expected it, but not so soon.They didn't look emotional breaking the news, almost as if it had been planned years ahead. Knowing them it probably was.
The news wasn't the worst part of the deal. Growing up all of us had been used to seeing our aunts and uncles marry people for the sake of the business. Moving to different cities, countries, doing anything that was required of their contract. Two years ago we experienced our own wedding through Seokjin. A beautiful ceremony with only close relatives. He moved to China afterwards.
Of course our parents were happy when he accepted it. Happy that their son could make even more money for them while officially leaving our family. We haven't seen him much since then. He only ever visited during the Christmas holidays, but even that wasn't enough.
Between the three of us, Namjoon had been the most upset by the results. He'd basically lost his other half. The loss caused him to follow Taehyung and I around like a lost puppy. We didn't mind it, only asking him to keep whatever he saw a secret. Eventually he stopped following us and started hanging out with Min Yoongi.
Tonight Namjoon dons a dimpled smile as he gives a speech. Business jargon flowing out of his mouth in a way that impresses most attending the event.
"It's been a beautiful few years at Kim Group. Mom, Dad, you've aided me with the necessary knowledge for the next chapter of my journey. Matrimony is not an easy task. It requires leadership, commitment and communication. Skills you've instilled in myself, Taehyung and Soa from our diaper days. For that, I thank you."
"Is it me or has he become even more boring?" Jimin whispers, causing me to smile.
Park Jimin, Taehyung's best friend. He's been around since middle school. Growing from a chubby nice guy to a charming, flirty casanova. With slicked back hair and a red suit, Jimin fits the role he's created for himself. Rebellious, arrogant and handsome. It's not something his parents are too fond of. Mine aren't either, but they'd finally come to accept the inseparable behaviour of Jimin and Taehyung.
"It's not just you. He's been speaking for a while now." Jeongguk whispers back, standing too close. The dimly lit room hides the way his hand molds into mine well.
Jeon Jeongguk. Confident, but quiet. He has always been. Even when he moved to Seoul and looked like a complete outcast with his bunny like features. Taehyung, being his friendly self had been the first to approach him. After that the two just clicked.
Jeongguk became the third best friend to Jimin and Taehyung and the first boyfriend to me. That's why neither of them say anything about the hand they so clearly see holding onto my own.
"With that said, I'd like to call up Kim Taehyung, acting CEO of Kim Group." Namjoon smiles, moving aside as Taehyung hurriedly walks to the front.
There's a nervous tilt to his voice when he starts speaking. Nervous laughter sounding over the mic as he tries to brush it off. His eyes focus on mine even in the low lighting of the room. Taehyung never really liked speaking to the huge crowds. It's unexpected of his personality, but he's been that way since we were kids. Swaying, fidgeting, smiling, all at once.
He sounds different from Namjoon. Less mature with his wording, but more real.
"Namjoon had big shoes to fill, but mine are even bigger." Head scratch. "I didn't think I'd be taking over the business so soon. It's only been four years since I graduated, but I'm up for the challenge. With our parents, Soa and I aim to grow Kim Group into an even bigger business. We hope you'll support us and Namjoon we wish you a happy marriage."
People clap, most of them impressed with Taehyung. Jimin hollers, drawing the attention of many displeased faces. His parents being two of them.
The evening continues with a live jazz band performing items. Food is served and everyone is happy. Chatting away, minding their own business. It's a pleasant setup. More relaxed than that of Seokjin. Even our parents seem to be enjoying the evening.
"You guys are coming to the after party right?" Jimin asks no one in particular. "Yoongi said it'll be at Love Maze."
Taehyung shrugs because he'll probably join.
Already tipsy from all he's taken to calm his nerves.
"Soa?"
"No."
I watch as his face falls. "Why? We always go together."
Besides looking like someone to avoid, Jimin could be cute at times. He has the habit of pouting when he wants something. Me joining or not going won't directly affect him, but it affects the attendance of his other best friend.
"I'm not in the mood-"
"But then Jeongguk won't go."
"So? How's that on me?"
Jimin turns to Taehyung. Glass in hand, the latter doesn't care.
"Gguk? You coming or staying with Soa?"
Jeongguk nods. "I'll meet you guys there."
"This is why I don't date. Imagine missing out on a night with the guys for my girl." Jimin mumbles, passing Jeongguk a glare.
"I didn't say no though."
"This," He motions between the two of us, "Worst decision for this friend group."
-
Authors Note:
Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of Euphoric Love. I hope you'll stick around for the next chapters. ❤️
Also posted on Wattpad under the account @kokoandkookie titled “Euphoric Love.
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➳ a/n: soooo a long awaited (lol) moonlight chapter- hope you enjoy it! :)) - admin lottie
➳ pairing: jungkook x reader
➳ genre: wolf!au, a little bit of everything tbh; angst, fluff, smut
➳ word count: 3.8k
➳warning(s): violence, mention of gore/murder
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Chapter 11:
You’ve been waiting hours. The cold morning light has revealed the extent of the damage from the Rogue attack— most of which is easily recovered and fixed. Thank God. At least, despite everything that’s happened, there will be one less thing to be worried and stressed about. You’re already on the verge of a breakdown since you’ve basically thrown one of the two people you’re in close contact with under the bus, and the other you’ve perpetually pissed off. Maybe it really is your fault this time. Maybe you’ve royally fucked it for good now.
You can see Jin standing outside the house on duty still, a purple bruise swollen on his right cheek from Jungkook’s fist and his eye all black and small. You tried to take some ice out to him to soothe it when he first arrived at the post, but he ignored it, and he told you to go back inside near emotionlessly. You’ve never seen someone look so dead in the eyes, even more so directed at you. You aren’t sure how much more hurt you can deal with, whether you induced it or not.
You sit with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders at the window in the lounge, looking over the front patch of drive, still awaiting Jungkook’s arrival. He won’t be much longer. Your wolf is stirring already, so he must be getting nearer.
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