starry-eyed ☾☆

   those words were weak and stupid, maybe, but namjoon believed them. namjoon was certain that hoseok would never lay a hand on jimin. he hadn’t been there when the entire truth was revealed, but jimin was still here. jimin was right in front of him - broken, for sure, but alive. hoseok, even with his way of thinking, would never hurt jimin and jimin would never hurt hoseok. he knew that. he trusted that. and maybe that was why he never questioned the truth. 

    he watched the other collect his things. he stood up then, “i knew this would make you upset, but pretending it didn’t happen is a lot worse! i know it was stupid, but i truly believe that the two of you would be fine. god, you two were so disgustingly head over heels in love with each other that you remind me of those gross couples on the street that make you hate your entire life because you’re alone and not doing that! yes, stupid. yes, no excuse, but it is the truth! you both are stupid. so stupid to let this get between you!”

“grow up? grow up, namjoon? that’s what you think we need to do?” he’s yelling at the top of his lungs now, and he shoves namjoon back away from him hard, not bothering to hold back when namjoon is currently the source of all the horrible things he’s being forced to feel right now. he knows humans are fragile, he knows namjoon is particularly fragile, but he doesn’t fucking care, he just wants namjoon to get away from him. “it’s not some petty fucking fight, he kills people like me. he is a murderer, and he told me himself he wasn’t sorry for it. i heard it from his own fucking mouth, namjoon.” it hurts. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. jimin stills, taking sharp gasps of breath while the tears stream down, expression pained and accusatory.

“he called me a monster, hyung. it’s not about not loving him, because fuck you, of course i still love him. why do you think it hurts so much? it’s not about not loving him, it’s that he called me a fucking monster without even apologizing or thinking twice about it, because he cares more about killing people like me than the person behind the label. it’s so fucking more than that, fuck you. no wonder you didn’t tell me, you really are just a fucking idiot.”

he wants to order namjoon to get away from him, but he’s almost desolate already as it is, shaking on the spot with his little fists clenched.

“don’t patronize me,” his lips turn down into something that’s more of a pout than a frown even as his eyebrows knit together and try to turn his sullen expression into another glare. the fight is leaving him though, no longer in so much pain now that all the prodding and moving is completed ( though there’s still a dull ache if the wound, that won’t go away for a while ). “i am an adult, hyung. i’m nineteen now, remember?”

any attempts to throw him all the way to pluto will wind up with jeongguk getting a nice claw to the face, though. jimin may be sweet, but his temper was fierce and quick like a whip, something which jeongguk should have learned by now with how often he tried to piss jimin off like the little shit he was. but like he said before-- he could only stay angry at jeongguk for only so long, which was why jeongguk got away with so much. he’s a terrible example of hyungship.

    he lowered his head. he couldn’t even defend hoseok. the other was his friend, but namjoon watched hoseok kill a rabid werewolf. while his life was saved, another life was lost. he was at a lose of words.

    however, hearing the other telling him that humans never leave him alone, he looked up at the other, “leave you alone? i was brought into all of this when i was born! you know that! i am cursed! bad luck is kind of my niche at this point! i understand you’re pissed and you have every right to be! i’m not asking for anything from you, jimin! i just wanted you know i was sorry! i won’t sprout some bullshit to forgive hoseok either because fuck, even i have told him i don’t agree with what he does, but he has a life! a life he was raised in! you can’t just turn around and say, just kidding, i’m not doing this anymore! you should know that too! you can’t suddenly stop turning into a werewolf and i can’t suddenly stop falling into manholes and spilling soda on everyone!”

namjoon knew. namjoon knew, fucking namjoon, and even jimin didn’t. how pathetic of him.

“don’t give me the pity party, hyung,” jimin barks back scathingly, shooting him a loathing look when namjoon tries to lament about how hard it was being a human in this scary, scary world of naturals. how it wasn’t his fault, and all that shit. “you’re a fucking idiot, curse or not, if you think this is just about you being human. sure, humans are fucking stupid-- every last one of you, i swear to god-- and you’d have to be not to open your eyes once in awhile and see the reality around you, but that’s just a given. the problem is that you were stupid enough to think that i wouldn’t get upset. that i wouldn’t be angry.

“you come to me, while i’m still grieving, and tell me you knew this whole fucking time that the man that broke my heart was a hunter? the very fucking thing that endangers my life most? and you think i won’t fucking get upset, namjoon?”

It was him. Yuju had no ties and her connections to Oceana Kingdom were long gone but she had managed to hear the whispers and they told her one of the person that became a victim of merfolk’s rampage. And now he was right in front of her. Yuju knew there was no easy way to approach this subject and it wasn’t her intention to do so. She felt some sort of tiny responsibility to help this man to overcome what happened to him. It was silly, but she couldn’t help but feeling like this. 

so he doesn’t expect to be approached by some stranger in the school cafe when he is, looking up from his essay that he wasn’t even working on to stare up at the girl in moderate confusion. she seems out of place-- not like a student, but also like she doesn’t belong with the rest of the crowd. it’s a familiar feeling, one he knows well.

He isn’t sure what to say now, clutching the flowers to his chest, mouth open and brow creased in pure worry. 

So Yoongi just settles for he usual fussing he causes over Jimin’s well-being. 

“You look awful.” He’s trying to put it as kindly as possible, voice soft and slightly curious. “You’re not smiling– what happened? Did someone hurt you? Did someone do something to you? Who touched my boy?” 

And just like that, the dam broke and quiet worry became an overbearing, flood of questions and fears and protectiveness that Yoongi just couldn’t help to feel around Jimin. Without thinking, he stepped forward to shove the flowers into the other’s chest, not letting go until he took them. 

“thank you for the observation,” jimin intones a little dryly, but the sarcasm is somewhat lost without his own enthusiasm to fuel it. he just stands there, quietly waiting for the words to come to him so he could answer yoongi’s questions, but they don’t-- they don’t. (they never do.)

because how is he supposed to explain this without breaking down? how is he supposed to prevent the onslaught of sadness and depression hitting him all over again? he doesn’t want yoongi to see him like that-- but he deserves to know, too, especially considering how worried he was. jimin opens his mouth again-- and then closes it, looking down at the floor.

“hoseok is a hunter,” he says, soft but blunt. his voice is shaking, and he probably is too-- no one could blame him for that. “he’s... a hunter, and we...”

so he’s relieved when mina finally calls it quits, relaxing into his chair while he stares at his character he’d made under her careful instruction, chilling out in some forest. who knew grinding in a game could take so much time? “uh,” he says absently, blinking before looking up at her. “i’m not sure? you’re the one who called me over, noona, so it’s your choice. if it was up to me, i’d probably just turn on some drama reruns, but i don’t know if that’s your thing, so...”

    “right…,” he muttered as he moved to sit down. he sat as most normally would on a couch. he sat up straight, hands dropped into his lap. he scratched at the cast on his right arm, finding that fussing with it was easier than actually thinking, but he couldn’t just think. he had to speak. 

    “i know… you know that I know-” he started, but realized how stupid that sounded. “i know you’re mad at me because i never spoke up. i knew hoseok was a hunter for a while. he saved my life from a… rabid werewolf,” his throat clenched when he said that. he didn’t want to go into details about it, “you also saved me from a werewolf. a similar theme… ha… not funny, sorry.”

    he cleared his throat, “i didn’t say anything because i’m an idiot… i thought… you both knew. you had to know. i thought it was some romeo and juliet, can’t-stay-away-from-each-other type of thing. two houses divided… whatever. either way, that’s no excuse. i figured you both never mentioned anything either because you just wanted to be regular guys. again, a stupid assumption on my part.”

he expected something like consolation for what happened. a talk from one survivor to another. someone to hold his hand that understands what they went through, the fucking trauma of it all.

not this.

he’s quiet when namjoon finishes, staring at nothing with a pained expression. it’s still processing-- he knew. namjoon knew, this whole time. from day fucking one, he knew.

“romeo and juliet,” jimin echoes, laughing a little, sad and bitter and hurt. “romeo and juliet, that’s what you want to chalk that up to. the fact that he’s a-- a murderer, and you want to fucking call it romeo and juliet, hyung?” the anger surprises him a little, how fast it builds in his chest as he turns on namjoon, and the pain is evident on his face, the wound in his heart torn back open. “you knew? and you didn’t think to tell me? you know what hunters do, you know what they’re like-- you know what h-- he’s like, and you didn’t want to tell me? what the fuck is the logic in that? he’s a cold-hearted, ruthless murderer and you think it’s as easy as some shakespearean commentary on stupid teenagers in love?”

he’s yelling, fuck. he doesn’t care. he’s sitting up, searching for something-- anything-- in namjoon’s face that could make him feel any less terrible. there’s nothing. “you stupid fucking human,” he breathes out, shaking, and there’s the tears, coming fast and heavy. “you stupid, stupid fucking human, why-- why can’t you people ever leave us alone? haven’t you done enough to us?”

he tries not to wince so much as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth and gnaws away at the chapped skin there, if only to keep himself from letting out very unmanly whimpers of pain. it doesn’t serve him well when he shoots jimin the best glare he can manage, given the situation and how pathetic he really was being about it all, and snaps, “i’m not cute, i’m an adult now.” as if after hitting that magic year 18 suddenly eliminates all opportunity for cuteness in a young man. jeongguk can dream, but not all that much has changed in over a year after all.

it’s sad. he is a mess.

“stop complaining,” jimin tuts again, gentler, taking care to be more careful with his hands when jeongguk winces at one point. “i’ll be done soon, okay? but the more you fidget, the more chance there is that i’ll mess up and have to start over.” thankfully, jeongguk seems to take his words to heart, stilling enough for jimin to finish wrapping the bandage and secure it tightly. he leans back to look at his handiwork, pleased.

    he wasn’t going to use this time to make excuses. he promised himself that and he couldn’t do that to jimin. while he was closer to hoseok, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t stand by jimin. namjoon knew how excessive and passionate the other was about his life. hoseok was raised to be a hunter and namjoon understood - sort of. namjoon’s opinions didn’t matter though.

    when the other answered the door, he held back a gasp. namjoon wouldn’t lie. jimin was attractive and always had this glow to him, but he didn’t have that. it was like everything that made jimin who he was, was sucked out from him. his mouth opened to question it, but he knew, so he snapped his mouth closed. he didn’t want to make the other upset. 

    “hey….,” namjoon greeted and looked into the familiar apartment. he knew seokjin was at a shoot and yet, hearing it from jimin sounded like new news. he just nodded and walked in, “i don’t think i’m very hungry… even for seokjin’s cooking…”

(or so he thought. if they were such good friends, wouldn’t namjoon have told him the truth?)

“alright,” he says softly, just letting the door close on it’s own and padding after namjoon without further comment. because really, what was there to say? they both know seokjin’s cooking is good-- phenomenal, even-- but they also both know they aren’t here to gush over food. jimin’s glad that namjoon isn’t looking at him when he looks over to take a glance-- namjoon looks good, at least, after what happened.

he wants to laugh. if only he could say the same for himself. even a cursed human is doing better than he is.

“i’m gay too, noona, did you forget?” he knows why she made the comment-- but he still finds it incredulous, because if you had to be attracted to every single thing you found cute, then this world would be a sad, sad place and everyone ever would be a furry. it’s not the kind of thing jimin would like to think about.

but he won’t digress. jimin watches mina stand, tired eyes following her movements over to the computer, while he listens to her rattle off about the newest game she had propped up in front of him or whatever-- typing some nonsense into the keyboard until the game finally appeared, and he just blinked. “um,” he says, rather intelligently, as if he was supposed to understand everything she said, eyes dragging back up from the monitor to look at her a little incredulously. “i-- um, food, i’m fine. but. uh?”

     namjoon’s not sure why, but hearing that confused namjoon. he has been with seokjin since the kidnapping? but he’s seen seokjin. he’s gone on dates with seokjin and the other never said a thing about jimin. he knew they knew each other, but that was about all he knew. how didn’t he know how close they were if jimin was actually living at seokjin’s the entire time. he’s not quite sure why seokjin wouldn’t mention him. maybe he did and namjoon didn’t think much of it. why was he so bothered by it?

    “yeah…, i know him,” namjoon replied, his voice was almost a little mocking, mostly because of his relationship with seokjin. so did seokjin not tell jimin what they were? unless they actually were talking about two different seokjin’s then this would be really awkward.

   he didn’t mind going to seokjin. he’s been there plenty enough and he liked seokjin’s place far better than his own crap apartment. despite feeling a bit weird about the whole thing, the last thing he wanted was to force jimin into an awkward situation and have him crying in public. with his luck, someone was bound to come by and think he said something beyond awful and try to beat him up. it has happened before.

    “don’t worry. i’ll be there in about twenty minutes. see you soon,” he offered that as a goodbye for now before he eventually hung up.

      he tried to push his confusion away and this weird feeling he had about where jimin was away. that wasn’t what was important. jimin deserved an explanation and he just hoped that it didn’t sound like some excuse to not feel any blame, but he wanted jimin to know he had the best intentions. 

but he’s not human, either. hoseok made sure he knew that.

he was just fucking broken. so broken that all he could do was have one of his dearest friends come find him in someone else’s home, because he was scared of crying in public. he was pathetic.

(seokjin would tell him otherwise, but seokjin isn’t home now. he’s gone and jimin is left alone to wallow in the depths of his despair again, and he sinks in it, drowning.)

he doesn’t take any consideration about what he’s wearing when he hears the doorbell ring-- one of seokjin’s older sweaters, one that jimin remembers him buying when they were sort-of together, soft and familiar and a favorite. he doesn’t even think about the strange tone in namjoon’s voice when jimin mentioned seokjin, or the reason behind it at all. all he can think about is putting one foot in front of the other, and managing an emotionless smile to namjoon when he opens the door. (it’s better than what he’s been pulling off before, he thinks-- a smile without feeling is better than the desolate expression he gave yoongi, or the tears he gave seokjin.)

“...hi, hyung,” he says softly, curling a hand over his own wrist as he leans against the door frame, looking miniature. “seokjin hyung’s not home right now, i think he’s at a shoot.” he feels raw, smile already slipping, sadness filtering into his expression again. “i think he left some of dinner from last night for me in the fridge, so we can eat while we talk, yeah?” he looks away. “if it’s about what i think it is, though, i... might not eat much.”

His hair is still wet, colder than Seokjin had expected it to be upon touching it, but at least he’s got dry, warm clothes on. It’s more than a little concerning though, because where the hell could Jimin have possibly been that he’s like this now? It doesn’t make sense, not when summer has yet to end- if anything, he should be burning up like he usually is. 

“He’s what, Jiminnie?” He murmurs, pulling back only to gather Jimin up into his arms. “Did Hoseok… did he hurt you, Jimin-ah? You can tell hyung, no matter what it was. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

He tightens his grip on Jimin as he moves slowly, steadily over to his couch, sitting them both down without moving the other from his lap. Seokjin keeps one arm wrapped around Jimin, twining the fingers of his other hand with Jimin’s. Jimin feels so fragile like this, as if he’ll shatter if he’s left under the pressure of whatever’s tormenting him, and Seokjin wishes he could do more than watch and hold out his hand for Jimin to cling to. 

“Jimin,” Seokjin tries again, rubbing shapes onto Jimin’s back with his palm. “What hurts? Who hurt you?”

He’s absolutely lost, both in what to do to help Jimin (his sweet, strong, unbreakable Jimin who’s been reduced to shaking and holding onto Seokjin like he’ll disappear if he doesn’t) and in what to say beyond gently prompting Jimin to speak. 

seokjin has always, always taken care of him. this isn’t anything new, but it touches him nonetheless. the fact that he just let jimin in without any explanation and was so quick to care for him was (barely) enough to keep him from falling even farther into the pit of despair he’d landed himself in, so he wouldn’t bother it. it’s easier to just let seokjin do what he likes like this instead of think about everything else.

(except it won’t stop, and he knows it. the moment seokjin isn’t here, isn’t distracting him, it’ll come back. it’s like the monster in his closet, except not even chains or locks will keep it back, the memories of unfamiliar hands dragging him down past any place humankind has ever wandered on their own ready to haunt him.

if it was just hoseok, he might be better off-- fine, even, the hopeful part of himself thinks. or at least not as wrecked as this. but no, it’s not just hoseok-- it’s everything, and everything is too much.)

he doesn’t realize they’ve already sat down until seokjin speaks again, and jimin just sniffles again, taking a shaky breath instead of replying. it’s easier to pillow his head here against seokjin’s shoulder instead of speak, but he knows seokjin is waiting, so he sits back and tries to look less pitiful, tries to pull himself together even though he knows he’s failing miserably. “hyung,” he says, softly, a little broken, not even looking at seokjin directly. if he could see himself, he wouldn’t recognize the glassy look in his eyes at all. the sunlight creeping into the house haunts him, warming them on the couch even though jimin just feels cold. wet and cold and on the verge of drowning.

“hyung, d-do you believe in fairy tales?”