the army prof

Yoongi awakens with a start. Cold. So cold. And grey.

He scrunches his forehead and blinks his swollen eyelids while trying to take in the landscape. He feels like his head should hurt. Or like he should feel hungover. But all he’s really feeling is cold.

He manages to get his eyes open and take in the landscape around him. Grey. Nothing really discernable beyond grey.

It’s not dark, but Yoongi wouldn’t call it “bright” either. It’s impossible to know where the light is coming from, but everything is lit in neutral, oppressive grey.

Then he registers a tugging sensation. He looks down to see he’s sitting in what appears to be running water. Grey water. It’s moving lazily around him, but every little while the water pulls, tugs at his waist where it emerges from the flow.

It’s cold.

“He-hello?” he croaks out. The air feels thick and his voice seems to fall from it easily, not carrying out across the greyness.

A fear begins to creep up his spine as he looks out into the void. A small voice, in his mind, whispers his fears. He knows exactly where he is, and has read about this place. He’s just not entirely clear on how he got here.

He pushes himself up with shaking limbs to stand. The water is up to his calves, the tugging a bit more insistent now. The shallowness of the water is a good sign, right? Perhaps it means he’s not in too deep.

Yoongi looks down at his clothes, checking for clues to jog his memory. Anything to explain exactly how he got here. But there’s nothing. His clothes are the same ones he remembers wearing before he ended up in this strange place. He’s wearing a black oversize Fear of God tee and dark joggers. Something he’d wear to lounge at home or maybe run out for coffee. Nothing that would have landed him here.

He shivers, wondering just how long he’s been sitting here, and how much longer he’ll have to endure the numbing cold. He thinks he can hear the faint slosh of water, masked mostly by his heavy, anxious breathing and blood pounding in his ears. It doesn’t know how much time passes. Does time even pass in this place?

He doesn’t dare move. He remembers his readings. There are potential pitfalls and drop-offs under the water that can’t be seen. Only experienced travelers can wander this river unaided. He clenches his fists at his sides and then tries to relax them again. How long can he stand here until his body gives out and just floats down the river?

The water continues to tug playfully around Yoongi, and the colder he gets, the less he feels. His feet and lower legs are numb but he can still feel where the water soaks his joggers, climbing up his knees to his thighs. The cold is no longer just a chill but an icy grip on his body that seems to reach his bones.

He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, trying not to think about how much longer he will have to stand here. His mind is consumed with thoughts of what could be lurking under the surface or what other creatures might inhabit this river besides him. A deep, full-body shiver wracks through him at the realization of what precisely is in these waters.

Yoongi doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there when he hears the hum. At first, he convinces himself it’s a hallucination or a mirage of sorts. The humming is so low, he’s sure it’s a sign of his going mad. The song becomes a bit louder, though, and it’s a pleasant little melody. Almost like a laidback walking song.

He carefully twists his torso, making sure to not accidentally dislodge himself from his place in the river, to look for the source of the song. He can see nothing at first and then, there, on the horizon, a shadowy figure appears, getting closer.

As the figure grows closer, Yoongi’s heart quickens in his chest. He’s not sure if this person is a friend or a foe, but the melody of the song fills him with some sort of hope. The figure is hard to make out in the grey, but he grows clearer and clearer as he gets closer. He’s wearing all black with a backpack slung on his back. The humming grows louder, with occasional sung words thrown in, and Yoongi can see his features now—soft, kind doe eyes and a warm smile. His dark hair is adorned with what looks like bright silver metallic threads woven through, all pulled up messily into a bun at the back of his head.

The man stops before Yoongi and tilts his head curiously.

“Hello,” he says in a soft voice, warmer than everything else in this frigid place, “I’m Jungkook. I couldn’t help but notice you standing here in this river. You don’t appear to be dead.”

Yoongi’s heart feels like it might explode as he opens his mouth to respond. He’s not sure if he’s hallucinating or if this is really happening, but he knows that he needs to grasp onto this opportunity to escape this place.

“I-I’m Yoongi,” he stammers after clearing his throat, “I don’t think I’m dead.”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, his hand reaching out to touch Yoongi’s arm. “Well, Yoongi, who is definitely not dead, what do you say I help you? I know exactly how to get out of this place.”

A glimmer of hope sparks within Yoongi’s chest as Jungkook smiles widely at him and reaches out a hand. Yoongi tentatively slides his own palm into that of the other. The warmth of Jungkook’s hand against his skin is a stark contrast to the icy cold of the river, and Yoongi can’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

“No matter what happens, don’t let go of my hand,” Jungkook says with a smile and a tone so serious it sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine.

“I won’t.”

Jungkook begins to lead Yoongi forward, guiding him through the chilly waters. Yoongi can feel the tension in Jungkook’s arm as he leads them on, the current of the river pushing against their bodies as they move.

Jungkook murmurs to him every once and a while, pointing out a step to avoid. Meanwhile, the man is still gripping tightly to Yoongi’s hand and humming the same tune low from his throat.

“What is it you are singing?” Yoongi asks when they take a small break.

“An old, old tune, a walking song of sorts,” Jungkook says, eyes glued to the horizon in front of them. The landscape hadn’t changed visually at all, but the air felt different here, lighter.

Yoongi takes his chance to study Jungkook’s face. He’d been staring at his back most of the journey, after all. Jungkook was beautiful, with high cheekbones, full lips, and a sharp jawline. But his eyes were what really caught Yoongi’s attention—dark and shiny holding what seems to be an entire galaxy. His whole person seems to shine, especially here, among all the grey. Yoongi doesn’t know how to describe the feeling that bubbles within himself, but it is intense, stirring emotions he’s not felt in a long time.

“It’s a beautiful song, but sounds a little sad,” Yoongi comments.

Jungkook hums in agreement. He swings his backpack around and pulls out a flask, opens it, and takes a sip. Then he hands the open flask to Yoongi.

“Water. Drink. We’ve still a ways to go.”

Yoongi doesn’t know how long they’ve been walking when the pull of the river suddenly became much more insistent.

“We’re close to the gate,” Jungkook mutters.

“How can you tell where we are?” Yoongi asks the question that’s been niggling at his mind since meeting the traveler.

Jungkook glances at Yoongi for a moment before saying, “I’ve been traveling these waters for almost two decades. I learned from my father and he from his. There’s much to see, feel, hear, and smell with a trained eye.”

Yoongi nods and looks out across the mundane expanse. It’s just cold and grey to him.

“How old are you to have been traveling through here for two decades?”

“Ah, well, I’m 26,” Jungkook says.

Yoongi’s jaw drops open in surprise. He doesn’t know how to respond to this new information.

“Remember, no matter what happens, do not release your hand,” Jungkook says, emphasizing his point by squeezing Yoongi’s hand. “I do not know who or what might be at the gate. Not to mention the river often is loath to let travelers once ensnared back upriver.”

A prickling panic pulls at Yoongi’s scalp. He swallows down past the lump in his throat and nods again. Decisively. Like he has any choice about this matter. His chest warms a bit, despite the bone-chilling cold, when Jungkook squeezes his hand again.

The river’s pull is indeed more harsh after another twenty or so paces. It’s up to Yoongi’s knees, pulling, threatening to knock him down and sweep him under with one careless step.

Jungkook hisses and comes to a full stop, causing Yoongi to knock into his backpack.

“Sorry,” he mutters under his breath as he looks around Jungkook’s figure to see why they stopped.

Jungkook responds with another squeeze to his hand.

Yoongi’s eyes widen when he takes in the scene before him. A large black shadow shaped roughly like a large bull looms out of the river. It seems to be eating—pulling and shredding at with a shadowy maw—another silvery shape in the water. Flecks of the silver fly off into the river like liquid mercury. Terror grips Yoongi at the sight of the obscene violence.

Jungkook begins a new song, tone low from his chest, but loud, filling the cavern of the grey space around them. As Jungkook’s voice rises, so too does the shadowy bull’s head. Its empty eyes turn towards Yoongi and Jungkook, silvery liquid dripping horrifyingly from the void where the beast’s mouth should be. A low growl rumbles from deep in its throat that reminds Yoongi more of a fearsome cat than a bull.

Yoongi’s hand tightens impossibly around Jungkook’s. The shadow creature’s eyes seem to bore into Yoongi’s soul, paralyzing him with fear. He struggles to breathe. But Jungkook’s voice never wavers, and he continues to sing his song.

The bull’s head lowers, and it charges towards them, its shadowy form rippling with power. Yoongi closes his eyes, ready to meet his fate, as he feels a surge of the water at his knees pull more urgently around him and rise to the middle of his thighs. He snaps his eyes open again as the waters pull and pull at him. He somehow manages to keep his footing sure and his grip in Jungkook’s hand tight.

To their left, water is swirling into a whirlpool, sucking everything within the radius down into the dark center. The bull is roaring angrily now as it trips at the current of the water. Yoongi watches as the shadowy creature gets pulled to its side into the water. The shadows thrash and the bull bellows then gargles in the waters. Soon, while still fighting the river’s current, the shadowy beast is pulled around and around by the whirlpool.

All the while, Jungkook is still singing. After some moments, when the shadows have all been submerged into the center of the whirlpool, Jungkook shifts his song to something softer. As his song calms, so do the waters of the river. They recede until they barely lap at Yoongi’s ankles.

Jungkook then turns to check over his travel companion. Both men are panting heavily—Jungkook from the obvious spells he just conjured and Yoongi from sheer terror. Yoongi shivers violently then from shock and the cold water now completely drenching his joggers.

“What was that?” Yoongi asks, his voice shaking and barely audible.

Jungkook offers him a small smile before answering. “An evil spirit trying to gather enough energy to make its way through this gate, with the hope of escaping the river.”

Yoongi shivers again, his full body shaking with the exertion of it. This time Jungkook furrows his brow in concern before pulling his backpack around and rifling through it. He pulls out a dark green cloak that has flecks of silver shimmering in the weave. He hands the cloak to Yoongi.

“This will help with the cold. I’m sorry, I should have thought of it sooner,” Jungkook says and looks contrite.

Yoongi shakes his head as he grabs the cloak. Jungkook ends up helping him put it on and closes the clasp for him when Yoongi’s fingers shake too much.

“Let’s go before the river awakens again,” Jungkook says after giving Yoongi another once-over.

Yoongi just nods and readjusts his grip in Jungkook’s hand.

As they walk, Yoongi finds himself dwelling on the darkness of what he had just witnessed. They’ve been walking for an hour or two, Yoongi isn’t really sure, when he decides to ask the questions burdening his mind.

With a tremor in his voice, he asks, “What was that thing the shadow spirit was eating?”

“Ah,” Jungkook says, glancing back at Yoongi with an apologetic grimace. “That was, uh, a soul. Someone who had died who was making their way down the river, most likely.”

Yoongi felt dizzy at that. “A soul?”

“Yeah, those who don’t need escorts down the river,” Jungkook explains, “transition into Death as a soul that floats down the river. It’s rather peaceful. Usually.”

“Escorts?” Yoongi asks.

“Well, sometimes souls aren’t ready to depart. They tend to have more corporeal looking forms,” Jungkook says, glancing back at Yoongi again to see if he understands. “Grim reapers will escort those.”

Yoongi falls silent processing this new information. Then he asks, “And why–”

“Why was the shadow eating a soul?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi hums.

“Well, evil spirits and those trying to make their way back up the river towards life use energy from the souls,” Jungkook says.

Yoongi nods even though he knows Jungkook can’t see him.

“You have no idea how you got here, hyung?” Jungkook asks after what must be several hours of walking. The only way Yoongi can tell time is passing at all is through the weariness of his body. Honestly, he finds it quite disorienting.

Yoongi shakes his head, but furrows his brow in thought regardless. “I remember going out for drinks with my hyung last night. Or, well, the night before. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. Then I came home, a bit buzzed, but nothing out of the ordinary. As far as I know, I fell asleep in my bed. At home.”

Jungkook hums in thought or maybe he’s giving direction to the river again. Yoongi realizes after the whirlpool that’s what his music has been doing—Jungkook’s music can control the river of Death.

“No one weird at the bar? Or on your way home?” Jungkook asks. “Watch your step here. Follow me exactly. There’s a drop off to the right.”

Yoongi concentrates on putting his feet exactly where Jungkook’s had been while also trying to answer his question. “I don’t think so.”

They walk another few steps when a memory makes Yoongi almost trip. “Wait, wait. At the bar. Hyung and I were just chatting with ourselves when someone tried to buy hyung a drink. I told them to fuck off. Maybe, maybe that’s important?”

“Could be,” Jungkook murmurs. “Watch your step, hyung.”

When the path isn’t so treacherous, they talk some more. Yoongi shares about his love of literature and music and Jungkook about his love of travel. They find, surprisingly, that they both enjoy playing video games. As they walk, Yoongi finds himself more and more drawn to Jungkook’s easy smile and carefree nature. He can’t help but wish they had met under slightly better circumstances. Or maybe literally any other circumstances.

Eventually, Jungkook slows down until they come to a stop. The river is low here again, tugging playfully at Yoongi’s trainers’ laces.

“We’re here,” Jungkook states.

“Here?”

“This is the portal back,” Jungkook gestures to the open air in front of them. Yoongi squints, hoping to see something, but nothing is apparent.

Yoongi doesn’t know what else to say other than, “Oh, okay.”

He follows Jungkook, hands still tightly clasped together, forward. Suddenly he feels a strange pulling sensation in his chest and everything around him blurs. Then he is standing in what looks to be a small bookstore or library.

Yoongi feels disoriented, still adjusting to the sudden change in surroundings. The smell of old books and coffee fills Yoongi’s nose as he blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the light. There’s a man behind the counter who looks up from his book to greet them. The room is cozy, with books lining every wall and comfortable armchairs scattered around. Yoongi takes a few curious steps forward, still in amazement that they’ve somehow escaped from the plane of death.

Jungkook turns to him with a grin. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Yoongi chuckles weakly, still feeling a little shell-shocked. “Thanks… for everything.”

Jungkook waves him off. “It was nothing. Really.”

Yoongi nods, not quite sure what to make of everything that has happened. He’s not even sure how to process his feelings for Jungkook. All he knows is that he’s grateful to be alive. He looks down to see he’s still holding Jungkook’s hand.

With a start, he relaxes his hand, allowing his arm to fall limp by his side. His face heats up in embarrassment.

“I–” Yoongi starts at the same time Jungkook says “Well–”

They both pause and laugh awkwardly.

Yoongi finds himself desperately wanting to ask for the younger’s phone number, but isn’t sure what the protocol for friendship-after-literally-saving-from-river-of-death is. He waves at Jungkook to speak first.

Jungkook smiles and says, “I was going to say, I should probably be going. I was in the middle of an errand that I really must finish. Are you able to find your way home?”

Yoongi swallows down any and all disappointment he feels. He nods. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jungkook says. His smile is so brilliant, Yoongi is sure he’s going to go blind from looking directly at it.

“Well, then,” Jungkook says. He gives Yoongi a quick bow and then turns on his heel to head towards the bookstore’s exit.

Yoongi stares at his retreating back, fingers playing with the cloak that is open at his side. Cloak.

“Wait!” he calls out.

At the exact same moment, Jungkook turns back towards him and says, “Actually–”

Both men laugh again.

Jungkook says, “You first this time.”

Yoongi nods and lifts his hands to the cloak. “Your cloak.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says with a small grin. “Keep it.”

“I couldn’t possibly, this must be expensive,” Yoongi sputters.

“No, it looks good on you. Keep it.”

Yoongi blushes. He knows there are almost no circumstances when he’d wear a cloak like this out on the streets of Seoul. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Not right now.

“If it wasn’t about the cloak, what did you want to say?” Yoongi asks.

“Ah,” Jungkook lifts his hand and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I actually thought I’d ask for your number.”

As it turns out, the little bookstore is only a handful of blocks from Yoongi’s apartment. While the walk, with Yoongi in his still wet joggers and trainers, exhaustion pulling him down like an extra gravitational force, is unpleasant, it is quick.

When he gets to the front of his apartment building, he stops in surprise. Standing just in front of the doors Yoongi recognizes his neighbor—not anyone he knows personally except for nods in the elevator—talking to what Yoongi can only describe as himself.

Yoongi’s heart hammers in his chest as he takes a cautious step back. No, not himself. Because he’s here staring at what? A doppelganger? Do such things exist? They must? There he is, gummy smile in reaction to something his neighbor has said, wearing his clothes. He’s wearing his favorite black snapback and has his backpack casually hanging off one shoulder.

Yoongi takes several more steps back, until he can turn and get around the corner of the next building. He racks his brain for a plan. His phone is in his apartment. There is some kind of copycat person standing outside his apartment. How the fuck is this his life?

He peers around the corner just in time to see the doppelganger casually strolling down the block away from the apartment building. Yoongi seizes his chance.

As soon as Yoongi deems the copycat is far away enough, he makes a break for the apartment building. He barely acknowledges his neighbor’s surprised “oh, back so soon?” as he makes a dash for the elevator.

His heart pounds as he enters the code for his apartment, holding his breath as he enters, hoping no more of whatever that doppelganger is are inside his apartment. He lets out his breath once inside and the apartment is quiet and still. He leans against the door for a moment, to will his racing heart to calm down before he starts hyperventilating.

He’s quick to find his phone on his bedside table. He wishes he had time to change out of his still-damp clothes, but he doesn’t want to risk running into the copycat. He’s already making his way to his front door when he’s pulling up the notification for Jungkook’s text message.

He barely glances at the “this is JK” message before hitting the call button.

“Hyung?” comes Jungkook’s voice after two rings. He must be able to hear Yoongi’s labored breathing as he wrenches open the front door of his apartment. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t–” Yoongi doesn’t even know how to describe what he saw. Maybe he’s losing his mind after spending so much time in Death? “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Yoongi’s voice breaks at the end, and he hates how vulnerable he sounds. And he hates that Jungkook seems to only ever hear him when he’s vulnerable.

“Are you safe right now, hyung?” Jungkook asks.

Yoongi hits the elevator call button. “No. No, I don’t know. There’s someone who looks like me. No, they are me. I don’t know what is happening.”

There is silence on the line and Yoongi steps into the elevator. He hits the “L” button.

“Go somewhere public, hyung. Don’t go anywhere you will be alone. Hyung–”

“Jungkook?” Yoongi asks as he feels the elevator begin to descend and he realizes the call dropped. The elevator comes to a stop on floor 4 with a ding.

The doors slide open and Yoongi is staring, frozen in terror, at himself.

“Shit,” Jungkook says as he looks at the “call ended” screen on his phone. He knows he should have walked Yoongi home, but was distracted by finishing up the drop. Rookie mistake. One he probably wouldn’t have made if Yoongi wasn’t so damn distractingly pretty. Shit.

He grabs his backpack and slings it back over his shoulder. He should feel drained right now. He’d already done so much magic today, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins is making up for any spent energy.

First, he needs a locator spell to track Yoongi down. Second, he needs something that banishes mimicry demons. Third, he needs to ask Yoongi out before he has any more demonic run-ins because this is getting ridiculous.

He squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. Then he pulls his phone out and dials.

“It’s been a while,” the voice on the other end of the line says.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jungkook pouts, hoping that translates into some kind of apologetic tone. “I need help.”

There’s a pause over the line and Jungkook holds his breath.

“What do you need, Kook-ah?”

Jungkook smiles to himself, ducking his chin to his chest.

The water hits Yoongi’s face with a force that sends some of it up his nose and he coughs. The iciness of it makes him think for a moment that he’s back in Death. He sputters and tries to wipe his face only to realize his arms are bound behind his back. He’s sitting in a wooden chair. He blinks the water out of his eyes only to see his own apartment—his kitchen, in fact.

“So nice of you to rejoin us, Yoongi-ssi,” he hears himself drawl. “I know little jaunts through Death can be so very tiring.”

Whatever it is that is masquerading as him sounds a little off to his ears. The Daegu satoori is a little too thick for him having spent a decade in Seoul. The emphasis on certain words is just a little wrong in his ears.

“What do you want from me?” he manages to cough out.

He watches as the doppelganger steps in front of his vision and smiles at him. Yoongi can feel his mind trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, but he almost feels fuzzy, like he’s going to dissociate. He blinks some more, trying to help himself focus.

“Well, I’m a little hurt you don’t recognize me,” copycat Yoongi pouts.

Yoongi huffs a laugh at that.

The doppelganger looks down at himself and chuckles. “Ah, yes, I’m sorry. I forgot I changed outfits. No wonder.”

Yoongi squints, trying to piece together whatever puzzle this creature wants him to solve. There’s a slight pounding in his temples and he wonders briefly how exactly he became unconscious.

“I do believe,” the doppelganger continues, “your exact words to me were, ‘fuck off.’ Which, I’ll be quite honest with you, is a little offensive, Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi stares at the copycat, mouth slightly agape. “You were the one trying to buy Seokjin-hyung a drink. At the bar.”

“Ah! Yay!” copycat Yoongi giggles and claps excitedly. It’s sound wildly out of character for Yoongi and for this situation that Yoongi’s head reels. “You do remember! And I’m so glad you’ve mentioned your Seokjin-hyung. Because that is who I want to talk to you about.”

Yoongi feels his blood run cold.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asks, his voice quivering slightly. He tenses his arms, testing the bindings, but the movement only seems to tighten them.

“You see, Yoongi-ssi,” the doppelganger says, his voice dripping with fake concern. “I need to know more about your hyung. And you. Your Seokjin-hyung is so very beautiful. I’ve decided he’s the perfect match for me. No one else on this plane can compare. I honestly don’t understand how he could settle for such a mundane sack of meat, to be honest.”

The copycat Yoongi looks down at his own body, lip curling in distaste. He looks at Yoongi with a smirk. “You are going to help me take your place next to his side.”

Yoongi blinks slowly, trying to comprehend what the creature is saying.

“So, you stole,” Yoongi says, “my face?”

“Yes, so I can be the lover by his side.”

“Right,” Yoongi says slowly.

“But he’s not here,” the doppelganger says, pouting. “Do you not share a home?”

Yoongi thinks for a moment before responding, mind whirling, “No, we don’t live together.”

The doppelganger’s expression darkens, the pout being replaced with a much more malicious facial expression. “Well, that’s inconvenient. Then we’ll just have to lure him here, won’t we?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he struggles against his bindings.

As if reading his thoughts, the copycat smiles cruelly. “Oh, don’t worry, Yoongi-ssi. I won’t hurt your beloved Seokjin-hyung. That would ruin all this work I’ve put in.”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, trying to concentrate, trying to find ways to stall the inevitable. “Why was I in Death?”

The doppelganger chuckles and tilts his head to the side, clearly amused by Yoongi’s question. “You’re a very simple human, aren’t you? I needed a place to keep you so that I could take your place, of course. I am a bit upset you somehow managed to escape. It took a lot of effort to put you there.”

His eyes narrow at Yoongi, face frowning in anger. He says, “I’ll have to make sure to stash you somewhere no one will find you. A Hell plane, perhaps.”

Yoongi finds himself shaking his head at the realization that dying here would not be the worst outcome. A small whimper escapes his throat unbidden.

“Now, now, Yoongi-ssi, no use getting all worked up. Plenty of time to curse your own existence later,” the copycat says as he places a palm on Yoongi’s shoulder. His fingers dig into the muscle painfully, making Yoongi utter another whimper. “Now tell me if there are any special pet names you call your dear Seokjin-hyung before I dial his number.”

Before Yoongi can even respond, the doppelganger drops his hand and steps out of his line of vision. Yoongi knows the moment the copycat has Seokjin on the phone, he’ll figure out they are not actually dating nor are they lovers. He doesn’t want to find out how the creature will react to that. He fights his bindings with renewed vigor, only to hear the creature chuckle from somewhere behind him.

“No use fighting, Yoongi-ssi.”

A knock on the door echoes throughout the apartment.

Yoongi halts his movement as he feels twin spikes of fear and hope run through him in equal measure.

“I wonder who that could be,” the copycat says, sounding amused.

He walks into Yoongi’s vision again, only to place a large piece of duct tape over Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi struggles and tries to shout, but the doppelganger is faster and much stronger.

“Be good or I’ll have to make sure your next trip is to a plane so depraved you soon won’t remember your own name, Yoongi-ssi,” the copycat says with a pat to Yoongi’s cheek.

Tears burn at Yoongi’s eyelids before he even registers the despair weighing down his lungs.

“You’re sure this is the right apartment?” Namjoon asks.

Jungkook nods as he bounces up onto the balls of his feet.

“Thanks for coming, hyung,” Jungkook says after another beat. “I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch–”

“Don’t mention it,” Namjoon says with a shake of his head. “I know you’ve been busy. The coven misses you though. You know you don’t need to be a witch for them to feel that bond.”

“I know, I know. I’ll come by soon. When things settle down.”

“No, pressure, Kook-ah.”

They stand for another moment, straining to hear anything from inside the flat. Jungkook still bouncing anxiously on his feet.

“Is no one home? Should we just–” Namjoon starts, but is interrupted by the door to the apartment opening.

Yoongi—or what is posing as Yoongi—holds the door open to the two men in the hall, a charming smile on his face. As he stands there, he eyes the men up and down, appraising them.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” the not-Yoongi asks pleasantly.

Namjoon glances at Jungkook. “We’re looking for Yoongi. Is he here?”

The not-Yoongi’s smile never wavers as he steps aside to let them in. “Well, you’re in luck because I am he. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well,” Jungkook says as they step into the apartment. “I was hoping to be able to ask you on that coffee date we were talking about.”

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” not-Yoongi says without hesitation. “I’m afraid I’m already dating someone.”

“Really?” Jungkook says, eyebrows raising. The front door of the apartment clicks shut behind them. “That’s not the impression I got this morning.”

The demon looks Jungkook over again, narrowing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I think perhaps you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that,” Namjoon mutters as he fiddles with something in his bag.

The doppelganger looks on edge now as his eyes flick back and forth between the two men. Then he says, “Well, in that case, I’m going to need to ask you two to leave.”

Just as he finishes talking, there’s a thump and a crash from somewhere in the apartment. The demon hisses and whips his head around towards the noise.

“Now,” Namjoon says calmly.

Jungkook wastes no time in clamping his hand down over Namjoon’s shoulder, humming low on this breath to lend his magical reserves to the older.

Namjoon speaks then, words twisting together to create a magical tapestry that wraps itself around the mimicry demon before it can escape further into the apartment. The demon screams as it’s pulled back towards Namjoon and Jungkook, struggling against the magic.

Jungkook winces as he watches the face of Yoongi writhing in pain, both light and dark cutting through his skin, pulling his body apart, until nothing is left but a haze of smoke. He drops his hand as soon as Namjoon moves to open the front door, letting the air move to clear the smoke. While Namjoon casts a cleansing spell, Jungkook moves quickly into the apartment, looking for Yoongi.

Yoongi tries not to panic as he lies on his side on the cold tiles of his kitchen floor. His shoulder hurts from the impact of throwing himself off the chair. He tried to understand the muffled talking and other noises he’d been hearing, but the agonized wail he’s hearing now sends goosebumps all over his skin.

It’s strange hearing yourself scream in pain.

The apartment is quiet again until Yoongi hears footsteps approaching from behind him. He tenses up, not sure what to expect. But the gentle touch on his uninjured shoulder is surprising, and he turns his head to see Jungkook kneeling beside him.

“Yoongi-hyung, are you okay?” Jungkook asks softly, concern etched on his face. Yoongi wants to say he’s never felt more relieved to see Jungkook’s face, but it’s been a wild 24 hours.

Yoongi tries to speak but the duct tape is still tightly bound around his mouth, making it difficult to form any coherent words. Jungkook deftly pulls it off, and Yoongi takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m fine, I think,” he says, voice hoarse. “Thanks for saving me. Again.”

Jungkook lifts one side of his mouth in a wry smile, and Yoongi can feel warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of it. He waits as Jungkook unties his arms and carefully helps Yoongi to a sitting position against the kitchen cabinets. Yoongi winces as he rubs his tender shoulder.

“Does anywhere else hurt?” Jungkook asks, still visually examining Yoongi for any more injuries.

Yoongi shakes his head and then winces. “I guess my head, a bit.”

Jungkook gets closer, inspecting for wounds. He speaks softly, “We destroyed the mimicry demon. You do seem to have a tendency to get yourself into trouble, hyung.”

Yoongi grins at that. “Lucky for me I seem to have someone who just wanders in when I need rescuing.”

Jungkook scoffs at that.

“Well, I’ll have you know I can’t resist saving a damsel in distress.” He winks at Yoongi, and the older man makes a face of disgust.

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Yoongi says, still cringing.

Jungkook laughs and settles down next to Yoongi, back against the cabinet. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, while the low incantations from Namjoon can be heard down the hall.

“Want to tell me what happened with the demon, hyung?” Jungkook asks, voice only a murmur.

He holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he digs through his pockets for the house key.

“How are you holding up, Namjoon-hyung?” the voice on the other end of the phone asks.

“Fine, you know,” Namjoon shrugs and immediately drops the phone onto the worn wood deck with an impression clacking noise.

“Fuck,” he says as he inspects the phone. No new cracks.

“Hyung?” he can hear his friend asking and he remembers he’s on a call.

“Sorry, sorry, Jungkook-ah,” he says, putting the phone back to his ear. “Dropped the phone trying to find the house key. Wish this place had a keypad lock.”

“Maybe you can install one,” Jungkook says.

Namjoon hums noncommittally. Then smiles as he finds the key in the zipped back pocket of his shorts.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying.”

“No, no. It’s just,” Namjoon pauses as he lets himself through the door, toes off his shoes, and inhales deeply the smell of the previous owner the house hasn’t relinquished yet. “It’s just weird.”

“Well, you have time,” Jungkook says. “No need to rush any decisions.”

“I just,” Namjoon starts and flounders for the right word. “I feel like I’m a guest here. Like she’ll be back after a long weekend.”

His voice trails off as he looks around the living room. The furniture is worn and mismatched. An unwashed coffee mug still by her chair. Then his gaze lands on the simple wooden box on the mantle, housing her ashes.

“It just takes time, hyung,” the younger says on the phone.

“Time,” Namjoon replies absently. “Yeah.”

It takes another four weeks to stop feeling like a guest in the house that is now his. Namjoon can’t pinpoint exactly when the shift happened, it being so gradual. First, throwing out perishable food in the fridge past its due date. Then, emptying the cupboards of unexpired, unopened food Namjoon will never eat for the local food bank. Then, refilling the cabinets again with food procured from H-Mart in Seattle—the ferry ride being picturesque, but the whole day out just for food from home being exhausting. Then, the front hall coat closet is emptied to make room for some of Namjoon’s belongings, the previous occupant’s useful things being donated again to the local shelter. Then, Namjoon’s pretty beach rock and glass findings from his daily walks become a collection featured on the mantle, the wooden box removed to a safe place in an unused bedroom. Little by little, the old house that was once his grandmother’s pride and joy becomes Namjoon’s home.

Namjoon curses under his breath when the coffee pot apparently decides it no longer needs to make coffee. He looks forlornly at his empty mug. This won’t do at all.

He huffs as he pulls his tennis shoes and grabs the key from the dish on the little table by the door. He admires the blue and purple hydrangea and the pink sweet peas in full bloom as he walks down the winding path marked by pavers from the front porch to the road.

As he reaches the road, Namjoon turns left and starts walking towards the café and nursery. He passes a few houses, spread out with large yards all alive with plants and trees, their owners still asleep or in the midst of morning routines. The ocean breeze from off the bluff carries the soft sounds of waves on the shore and the smell of salt on the air that Namjoon finds comforting.

He walks up a long, steep hill at the end of the sleepy residential road feeling the burn in his glutes, which would bother him less if he’d been able to have his morning caffeine first. Maybe this means he’s earning a pastry with his coffee.

At the top of the hill, more trees and houses dot the way. Turning right, he walks another few minutes before he comes to a small, quiet village center. There is the coffee shop, garden nursery, post office, and small convenience store. He’s driven past this place many times, as it’s on the only road toward real civilization, but has never stopped in before. It’s cute. Quaint. A throwback to an era when neighbors know each other’s names and the coffee shop owner knows everyone’s orders before they arrive.

The coffee shop is equally cute and quaint inside as out. Chickens is apparently the theme. The motif carries through all of the décor and even into the naming of specialty drinks and baked goods. Namjoon stands in line and studies the chalkboard menu, trying to decide on what to order, brow wrinkling trying to decipher the meaning behind the various names.

“Maybe I can help you, sir?” the middle aged woman at the counter asks.

Namjoon steps up to the counter and puts on his best dimpled smile. Yes, help. He needs help. He asks, “Maybe you can tell me the difference between the Cluckuccino and the Eggpresso?”

The woman lets out a low chuckle, “Let me explain, the Cluckuccino is a latte with a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. Or if you’re feeling adventurous, try the Eggpresso with an egg yolk!”

Namjoon wrinkled his nose in disgust before he can school his features into something more neutral, “I think for today I’ll just get a plain americano. Oh, and uh, blueberry scone, or whatever you call it.”

“The Clucky Blueberry Scone it is,” the woman says with a grin. “Anything else for you?”

“No, no, I think that’s good,” Namjoon says quickly.

“You got it,” the woman says. “That’ll be $12.45.”

Namjoon blinks at the price for a moment before he hands over his credit card. Forget cute chickens and themed village centers. It’s all a front for bandits and thieves. Highway robbery is what this is.

As he waits for his order, Namjoon takes in the surroundings. The coffee shop is cozy, with mismatched chairs and tables that look like they’ve been here since the 80s. There are shelves full of vintage knick-knacks and trinkets, and a sign hanging above the door that reads “Chickens Crossing.”

It doesn’t take long for his order to be ready and he leans into the door with an elbow, one hand grabbing tightly to his very hot americano and the other holding onto the bag with his scone. Namjoon thanks the woman before stepping back out into the sunshine. He decides to take his scone to go and explore the nursery next door.

He sticks to the outdoor portion of the grounds, with plants and flowers spilling out of pots and baskets with more of the same hanging from hooks screwed into large wooden frames. There’s no distinct aisles or really much rhyme or reason he can see for the layout, except for the obvious shade plants are under an arbor and the sun plants are out in the sun.

Towards the back of the nursery is a small metal table with two chairs. Grateful that it hadn’t rained last night, Namjoon sits on one of the chairs to enjoy his breakfast and caffeine.

For the outrageous price, the coffee was okay. The scone was good, clearly baked this morning with good ingredients. He’s still not sure it’s worth the price though.

A breeze blows through the garden carrying the smell of salt and tide with it. The leaves of the potted hydrangea in front of him—the blossoms on this one a brilliant pink color—shimmy and wave. Namjoon watches with a small sort of reverence. No wonder his grandmother had decided to stay here, in this place that was so far away from home.

“Oh, hello there,” a soft voice says. Namjoon turns to find the owner of the voice, thinking perhaps they are speaking to him.

But, it turns out, they are not speaking to him. A young Asian man, perhaps in his mid-20s, with auburn hair is bent over a tall stalk of a plant with large purple blossoms at the top. He’s wearing a dark green canvas apron over his fitting blue jeans and white tee-shirt, indicating he’s an employee.

“You’ve bloomed so beautifully,” the man continues, perhaps unaware he has an audience. “You’ve worked so hard. Good job.”

Namjoon can’t help but be a bit endeared by the man as he boosts the confidence of the flowers in front of him. He gives a brief start when he realizes he’s been listening to the man speak in Korean.

“Uh, hello,” Namjoon says in Korean, voice cracking a bit. After clearing his throat, he continues, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re Korean?”

The man whirls around with round eyes, mouth agape, hand clutching at his chest. “Oh, you startled me. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, turning his lips down in a bit of a frown. “I just got excited to hear someone else speaking Korean. My brain gets so tired hearing English all day.”

The man breaks into a smile then and anything Namjoon might have said next vanishes from his mind. The smile is sparkly and warm, with his cheeks pushing his eyes up into adorable crescents. Namjoon feels a flush creep onto his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so glad to meet another Korean,” the man says. He bounces over and sits down gingerly in the other metal chair at Namjoon’s table. “I’m Park Jimin. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Namjoon says, his smile working to match Jimin’s smile intensity. “Nice to meet you.”

“And, what do you do, Kim Namjoon?” Jimin asks with a cute tilt of his head.

“Ah, I’m a writer. Novels, mostly.”

“Oh, a writer! How exciting!” Jimin says with an enthusiastic energy. “Have you written anything I’ve read?”

“Uh,” Namjoon starts, mind trying to provide any book title of his. “I mostly write science fiction? My most sold book is probably ‘Spring Day.’ But don’t worry about it if you haven’t heard of it. I’m not really that famous.”

Namjoon feels his gut curling a bit in embarrassment as he rubs a palm across the back of his neck. When he glances at Jimin, he sees excitement in his eyes.

“Spring Day is your book? The one about time travel and a love story between two people from different eras?” Jimin asks eagerly.

“Uh, yeah,” Namjoon answers, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the other.

“Oh, I love that book. The pure longing and sadness of two people who come from two different worlds,” Jimin says wistfully, looking over at the hydrangea. “I didn’t realize that was yours. I don’t think it’s published under the name Kim Namjoon, is it?”

“Ah, yeah, RM is my pen name. Early on, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to actually sell any of my stuff. I don’t know. I felt more confident being someone else.”

“Well, it’s amazing that, here, of all places, I am meeting you,” Jimin says with a smile. “Ah, I wish I had my copy. I’d ask for an autograph.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon says softly with a grin, still feeling a bit bashful. “That means a lot to me.”

Jimin leans back in his chair and looks around the garden with a contented sigh. “It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it? I love working in the nursery. It’s my dream job, really.”

Namjoon takes a sip of his coffee and nods in agreement. “Yeah, it’s beautiful here. And you clearly have a talent for it. I saw you talking to those flowers earlier.”

Jimin blushes slightly at the compliment, a small smile on his lips. “I just love watching them grow and change. It’s like seeing your hard work pay off right in front of you.”

Namjoon takes another sip of his coffee, trying to calm the nerves that are fluttering in his chest. He’s both endeared and intrigued by the man in front of him.

“So, are you a tourist?” Jimin asks.

Namjoon startles out of his wandering thoughts. “A tourist? No. What makes you say that?”

“Oh,” Jimin blinks. “I’ve just never seen you here before. And I would definitely remember you.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks pinkening at Jimin’s comment. He clears his throat before he says, “I, uh, inherited a house down the road recently. So I’ve only been here for, uh, a month or so.”

“Oh! I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection before!” Jimin says excitedly again. “You’re Kwon Seulgi’s grandson.”

Namjoon nods, a little dumbfounded.

Jimin’s face falls a bit. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You knew her? My grandmother?” Namjoon asks.

“Yes, I would help her with her garden. It was hard for her, especially, you know, towards the end,” Jimin says.

Namjoon nods, familiar guilt curdling in his gut.

Jimin takes a deep breath and looks back at Namjoon, his smile returning. “But, it’s good to see the house is being taken care of. Your grandmother loved her home and really put herself into it.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, feeling a sense of pride. He says, “Yeah, I’m going to try my best to keep it up.”

“I’m sure you will,” Jimin says with a reassuring smile. “And if you ever need any help with the garden or anything, just let me know. I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” Namjoon says gratefully. He takes one last gulp of his coffee before standing up from the table. “I should probably get going now, but it was really nice to meet you.”

Jimin stands up as well, his warm smile still plastered on his face. “It was really nice meeting you too, Namjoon-ssi. I hope we run into each other again soon.”

Namjoon nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Please call me hyung. And I hope so too. See you around, Jimin.”

As he walks away, Namjoon can’t help but feel a sense of excitement about the prospect of meeting Jimin again. Maybe, just maybe, in this strange land where coffee shops embody chicken puns and one has to spend a day traveling to get Korean ingredients, he has a potential new friend. Or more than a friend, the traitorous whisper in his mind says.

July and August on the island mean most days are filled with sun, which rises early and sets late in the evening. While the occasional overcast or foggy day occurs, most days are warm and dry.

Namjoon settles into a routine. He continues his morning walks down the hill to the beach where he wanders up and down the shoreline for at least an hour. He never tries to time it with the tide, so some days the tide is so far out the rocky shore gives way to truly sandy beach. Other times, the tide is so high, it’s lapping against the concrete seawall.

After his walks, he takes his light breakfast to the small front room he’s converted into his office. There, he tries to get a few hours of writing done, before he sets himself to the tasks of sorting through his grandmother’s possessions and fixing up the house.

Some of the days—the best days, if one were to ask Namjoon’s opinion—Jimin comes over in the late afternoon, after his shift at the nursery has finished. He works good-naturedly in the gardens of the house until the skies over Seattle are painted pink, orange, and purple, a reflection of the sunset happening behind the island.

As the sun goes down, Namjoon makes tea for the both of them and they sit on the porch drinking and admiring the view. Some nights they talk, sharing stories both innocuous and meaningful. Some nights they just sit in comfortable silence as the sky grows dark.

“I didn’t know her very well. Most of my memories are vague, from childhood. She somehow came into this house long before I was born,” Namjoon says into his cup of tea.

The sky is full of bursts of pink, purple, and orange over Seattle. The sun had been warm today, almost too hot, as Namjoon watched Jimin work on pruning back some trees from the comfort of his little front porch office. Now, though, as the sun begins to set, a cool breeze blows off the Puget Sound making the hot sun a distant memory.

“We would visit,” he continues, now watching the colors changing across the sky, “when I was little. So I have memories of running around this garden, looking for treasures.”

He laughs at the memory and glances at Jimin to see if he’s bored the younger man yet. Jimin gives him a soft smile.

“I would spend hours reading up in the apple trees,” Namjoon says and points down the yard to the gnarly old apple tree, now propped up by a two-by-four. “My grandmother started calling me Namu.”

“Namu,” Jimin tries it out quietly with a grin. “Can I call you Namu-hyung, then?”

Namjoon laughs, loud and bright in surprise. “Sure, Jimin-ah.”

Namjoon watches from his front office window as Jimin whispers to the peach blossomed water lily in the small pond off the deck of the house. Namjoon remembers helping digging out that pond when he was young, on one of his summer visits. Digging out the hole, laying tarp, nestling the lilies in their pots, filling the pond with water. He had wanted to get fish, but “we don’t need to feed the raccoons and herons, Namu-yah” was all his grandmother had said.

Namjoon tilts his head as he watches Jimin. He imagines—or at least he tells himself he is imagining it—the lilies bend their faces towards Jimin, as if eager to hear exactly what he has to say. Namjoon can relate.

“Do you ever regret?” Namjoon asks another night, after the sun is gone and the stars dot the sky. The stars are so bright here, despite the light from Seattle across the Sound. The Milky Way is a visible band across the heavens.

“Regret?” Jimin asks. Both their voices are low, as if they are afraid of disturbing the night. A frog croaks from the pond.

“Yeah, regret,” Namjoon echoes. He’s quiet for several minutes before he says, “Sometimes I regret the choices I made when I was younger. When I didn’t know what was going to be important to me later. Who was going to be important to me later.”

Jimin hums in thought. Somewhere, probably up on the main road, they can hear a car drive by.

“I don’t– I don’t think I regret,” Jimin says after another sip of his tea. “We can never know who or what will be important later. The best we can do is live for what is important now, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Namjoon says, swatting away a too-friendly moth. “I just– I wish I had spent more time with her, here, before she was too sick to know me.”

“She knew you,” Jimin says quietly with confidence. “She was your grandmother. I don’t think she’d want you regretting.”

“Maybe,” Namjoon says.

Another frog joins the first, creating a chorus of night sounds.

“I left my home,” Jimin says, voice sounding far away. “I lived by this river that ran off a mountain. I knew every tree, plant, animal. I knew each nob and bend in the river. But, after being there for so long, I felt like I needed to see more of the world.”

Namjoon hums and asks, “So you came here?”

“Well, first I ended up in Busan,” Jimin says with a chuckle. “That was the closest town to my river.”

“Ah, that explains the accent,” Namjoon says with a grin.

“Yes,” Jimin returns his grin. “Then, I guess, you could say, I let the wind blow me here.”

Namjoon laughs. “Must have been a strong wind to get you all the way across the ocean.”

Jimin smiles, all toothy with his eyes disappearing into his cheeks. “Well, I had an important person to meet.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks warm up and he turns his gaze determinately into the bottom of his empty tea cup. He clears his throat and murmurs, “Aish, is it really that late?”

Jimin laughs as he stands and takes Namjoon’s cup. “I’ll wash these before I go, Namu-hyung.”

He’s feeling good about the amount of words he got onto the page today. While he’s pretty sure most of them are garbage, he’s proud of himself for actually getting something out at all. Pushing back from his desk, he stands and peers out the window to the porch.

Jimin is leaning against the railing, facing the Sound, but his eyes are shut. Namjoon feels his breath catch for a moment. There is something so incredibly soft about the younger man—that makes him beautiful. The wind off the water plays with his hair and a smile graces his lips.

Namjoon runs to the kitchen to get two glasses of water, as an excuse to go out and stand with the other man.

“The weather is nice today,” Namjoon says, setting the glass down the railing next to Jimin.

“You know,” Jimin says, “there’s so much in this world we can’t see. But we know it’s there.”

Namjoon watches the soft expression on Jimin’s face, still turned into the breeze, his eyes still closed.

“We can’t see them, but they still change the world. The most important things we can’t see.” He raises his hand, palm out, as if feeling the breeze blow.

“Like the wind?” Namjoon asks.

“Like the wind,” Jimin agrees. “We only know it’s there because it’s changing things, moving things, changing the world around it.”

“Like music,” Namjoon thinks aloud.

“Music?” Jimin asks, opening his eyes and looking thoughtfully at Namjoon.

“We can’t see it, but it changes the world,” Namjoon says.

Jimin nods and turns to look back over the Sound, seemingly lost in thought. After a few minutes, he turns back to Namjoon and looks at him intently. He says, “Like love.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks burst into flames, but a smile grows on his face. He nods slowly. “Like love.”

“What do you say, when you’re whispering to the plants?” Namjoon asks. It’s overcast today and Jimin had mentioned it would probably rain tonight.

“You might not believe me,” Jimin says, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Try me,” Namjoon says, smiling, dimples on display. He finds he’s been smiling like this a lot lately.

Jimin sets his glass down on the little table they’ve set out for their little tea breaks. He turns his body so he’s facing Namjoon from his chair.

“I am casting spells,” he says. His face is serious, but his eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Spells,” Namjoon deadpans.

“I told you you wouldn’t believe me!” Jimin says, clearly trying to look hurt but failing.

Namjoon looks around the yard. All the plants look incredibly happy and healthy. Everything is overflowing with blooms and fruit. He turns back to look at Jimin again, starting to question, just a little bit.

“Spells,” Namjoon says again, this time it almost sounds like a question.

Jimin’s face lights up with his smile. He laughs a little as he says, “Spells. Really!”

“If you say so, I’ll believe you,” Namjoon laughs.

“You know how I said I lived by a river?” Jimin asks, voice sobering.

Namjoon shifts in his chair sensing the change in mood. He nods and watches as Jimin bites his bottom lip.

“Well, I was, how would you say this? I was the guardian?”

“Guardian?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin makes a small, frustrated noise in his throat. “I don’t know the word for it. I was a spirit guardian.”

“Spirit guardian,” Namjoon echoes, brows furrowed.

Jimin nods, looking a bit nervous as he eyes Namjoon. “I was a guardian of the river for hundreds of years. But, I wanted to see the world. I wanted to see the things everyone who traveled on my river talked about. So– so, I became human.”

Namjoon blinks. “You’re serious.”

Jimin nods, eyes now trained on the deck in front of him.

“Hundreds of years,” Namjoon says absently.

“But only 27 human years! So, you’re still my hyung, Namu-hyung,” Jimin says quickly, gaze flickering over the other man’s face before settling over the Sound.

“Did you get to see it?” Namjoon asks.

“What?” Jimin looks back at Namjoon, brows pinched together.

“The world,” Namjoon explains. “You said you wanted to see it. But you’ve been here, in this garden all summer.”

“Oh,” Jimin says, looking at Namjoon wide-eyed. “Well, yes, I traveled around for most of my twenties. Then I found myself here. Like I said, the wind sends messages. It brought me here. To you.”

His last words are a whisper.

“I’m glad,” Namjoon says.

Jimin looks at him in question.

“I’m glad you got to see the world,” Namjoon clarifies. He reaches out across the table in between them and takes one of Jimin’s hands. Despite his working in dirt and shrubbery all day, Jimin’s hands are soft and small in Namjoon’s. After reveling in the warmth for a moment, he adds, “And that you found your way here. To me.”

Namjoon looks at the vase of flowers, cut from his own garden, and arranged by Jimin, as it sits on his desk. A large blue hydrangea blossom hangs to one side, light peach colored rose and dark purple dahlia blossoms crowd the rest of the space. It rained overnight and the deck is wet still.

He hears a knock at the door to his office. He wheels himself around and then stands to open the door. Jimin is standing with a smile on his face, auburn hair pushed off his forehead, still a bit damp.

“Were you out in the rain?” Namjoon asks.

“Only on the walk here,” Jimin says with a large smile.

“Let me get you a towel,” Namjoon says as he grabs Jimin’s shoulders and turns him around back into the house. “And some hot tea. Can’t have you catching a cold.”

Jimin giggles—a beautiful sound like tinkling wind chimes, Namjoon thinks—and lets Namjoon manhandle him back into the living room.

“You can’t get a cold just from walking in the rain,” Jimin laughs. “That’s just myth. A little rain is good for you. Especially if you’re a former river spirit.”

Namjoon laughs at that, but still guides Jimin into the kitchen. “Well, then, how about I don’t want you dripping on my floors?”

“Ah, the real reason comes to light,” Jimin says with a nod. Then he giggles again. Namjoon thinks he might lose his mind in the endearing adorableness.

After he’s dry, wrapped in a comforter with a warm cup of tea in his hand, they stand together in the kitchen looking out the window. The rain picked up again while Namjoon was fussing over the kettle.

“The plants will be happy,” Jimin says. “It’s been very warm this season.”

Namjoon bites back his political commentary about global warming and capitalism. Not the time, he thinks. Not when Jimin has that endearing smile on his face.

“Drink up, friends, drink up,” Jimin whispers, eyes trained on the garden out the window. He turns to look at Namjoon with a large grin. “A spell, see?”

Namjoon nods, brain short-circuiting. Without another thought, he leans forward and brushes his lips along Jimin’s, still warm from the tea. Jimin gives a small, startled noise, but doesn’t pull away.

Namjoon pulls away far enough to get Jimin’s face into focus and asks, “I– Was– was that okay?”

Jimin nods, biting his lower lip with a grin.

“Can I–” Namjoon cuts himself off with a swallow.

“Kiss me again, Namu-hyung,” Jimin whispers.

Another spell, Namjoon thinks, before he leans in for another kiss.

Namjoon comes back from a walk on the beach to find Jimin busy weeding under the bushes near the deck, morning glory intent on taking over everything uninvited. Jimin’s figure is illuminated by the mid-morning sun, his slender frame bending to pull weeds from the soil. He’s surrounded by vibrant green plants swaying softly in the wind, some reaching out to him as if begging for attention. The overhang of grape vines that hang from the metal arbor creates a dappled shade of sun and shadow on his skin, and the rhododendron bushes seem to be leaning in closer, as if they too want a bit of his attention. Jimin is humming to himself, a soft melody that is carried on the fresh summer breeze, mingling with the scent of the Sound. The chirping of birds and buzzing of bees intermingle with Jimin’s melody, creating a tranquil harmony in the air. Another kind of spell, perhaps.

Not many of the trees surrounding the property turn for the fall, being evergreen, but the apples are finally harvested and those not turned into sauce and preserves are taken to the neighbors and the local shelter. Autumn feels well underway and the last of the hot, sunny days have passed.

Hovhaness’s Mount St. Helens Symphony plays on the living room speakers, as Namjoon and Jimin snuggle together on one of the worn couches, watching the sunset. Everything about them is soft and slow. Namjoon wouldn’t want it any other way.

Jimin, whose back is half-resting on Namjoon’s chest, turns his head and tilts it up for a kiss. Namjoon obliges by meeting him the rest of the way and giving him a languid kiss. Soft and slow.

The room mostly looks the same as when Namjoon moved in, until closer inspection. His rock and sea glass collection takes up most of the mantle. A better stereo system takes up home on the far wall with surround speakers installed in the corners of the room’s ceiling. Only recently, Namjoon finally washed and put away his grandmother’s coffee cup. The house mostly smells of Namjoon now.

Later, they settle again with fresh cups of sleepytime tea, Jimin resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I have to leave for a while,” Jimin says.

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asks, brow wrinkling.

“It’s my birthday soon. I have to, uh, go back home. Just for a little while,” he says.

“Oh.”

“I have to check in on– on the river,” Jimin says, voice low. “It’s sort of part of the deal for being here the rest of the time. Plus, my parents insist on seeing me in-person.”

“I see.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jimin murmurs.

“Come here, when you get back,” Namjoon says.

Jimin tilts his face to see Namjoon’s. “Of course, Namu-hyung.”

“No, I mean,” Namjoon clears his throat. “Come live here, when you get back. Live here, with me.”

“Oh.”

“If you want,” Namjoon quickly adds.

Jimin relaxes his head again, his cheeks comfortably against Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon can feel his smile.

“I’d like that.”

Namjoon feels the hole of Jimin’s absence. However, instead of moping and feeling sorry for himself, he decides to finally finish cleaning out the house. Certain items are saved and put in special places, to commemorate the previous owner and her place in the current tenants’ hearts. Everything else is clean and donated or taken to the dump. Namjoon feels lighter than he has since moving in.

Space is made for Jimin—closet space, shelf space, his own room, if he wants. The whole house feels like it’s getting ready for new life.

Namjoon goes to the nursery at the top of the road one day when the sun happens to be shining. He wanders through the outdoor plants and then heads inside to see what else there is for sale.

Sitting near the counter is a table of small bonsai trees. He picks up one with a single trunk and a few branches, small leaves precariously clinging on.

“That blooms lovely purple flowers in the spring,” the woman standing at the register says.

“Is caring for it difficult?” Namjoon asks, eyeing the little tree.

“I’ll throw a care guide with it, if you like,” the woman says with a smile.

The door at the front of the store opens, the little bell at the top jingling. A brisk breeze follows through the store, seemingly excited to have found its way into the warmth as much as the customers.

Namjoon watches as the little leaves sway momentarily. He can put his beach rock collection under it, he thinks.

“I’ll take it,” he says, moving to the counter. He eyes the little tree again. “And any and all guides you might have.”

“Namu-hyung!”

Namjoon hears the shout before he sees the man shouting. The airport is packed. Neither he nor Jimin had accounted for the Thanksgiving holiday when booking the flight. Everywhere Namjoon looks there are people, pushing through the crowds with carry-on bags and suitcases in tow. Lines of people snake out from ticket booths and security checkpoints, while families and friends reunite with luggage is scattered here and there, adding to the general chaos. The whir of rolling suitcases and the occasional call of an announcement can be heard above the din. The airport is bursting with activity and everyone seems to be in a rush to get somewhere.

Finally, through the mass of people, he sees familiar auburn hair sticking out from under a black beanie. He’s wearing comfortable sweats and a hoodie, pulling a worn rolling suitcase haphazardly behind him. He races towards Namjoon, eyes wide and filled with joy and anticipation, face beaming, and throws himself into Namjoon’s arms.

“Jimin-ah, I hope your flight was okay,” Namjoon says into Jimin’s neck. He wraps his arms tightly around the other, one hand grasping the back of Jimin’s hoodie and the other embracing the back of his head, holding him tight.

He hears Jimin sniffle. “There was some turbulence. It was fine.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Namjoon says. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, hyung.”

“I thought we’d pick some food up at the H-Mart on the way to the ferry, unless you’re too tired,” Namjoon says.

Jimin shakes his head. “I slept on the plane.”

“Alright, let’s go home then,” Namjoon says with a smile.

Jimin brushes the tears Namjoon pretends not to see away from his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

It’s cold, but clear as the water pulls away from the rocks on the beach making its now-familiar sk sk sk sound. The water glimmers and sparkles in the winter sunlight. Seaweed cling to rocks, while seagulls fight over some shelled sea creature in the distance. An old, dilapidated set of pilings—great tall timber, now rotted and barnacle covered—stand out of the water, cormorants pose on the tops with their wings outstretched, drying in the sunshine.

Jimin has been back now for three weeks. This is only the second day since his return that it hasn’t rained. The first non-rainy day, they came down to the beach to the small part of the bank that belongs to the property, where once stairs had gone from the top to the bottom, allowing his grandmother easier access to the water. They had washed away many years ago now, the bank constantly eroding into the Sound. Namjoon and Jimin sat on a washed up log to watch the tide roll in and eventually spread his grandmother’s ashes into the water, letting her forever be a part of the island that she loved so much.

2am-closing Old Canyon Friends Only – anon

“Fuck, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok breathes out, brow furrowed at his phone screen. “You see the text?”

Jimin finishes wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a now-too-damp towel and makes an inquiring hum. Hoseok waves his phone, screen facing Jimin, as if he can see anything from this distance with the phone going wild through the air.

“Don’t make me guess, hyung,” Jimin says blandly. He gives Hoseok a look as he finishes with the towel and throws it in the bin in the corner of the studio. “My phone is still in my locker.”

“Friends Only at the Old Canyon tonight,” Hoseok says after giving Jimin a thoroughly unimpressed glance. His eyes glue themselves back on the phone screen as if the text message is going to suddenly reveal more details.

“Cool,” Jimin says with a shrug, already heading towards the door to go change. Just as his hand hits the handle he stops with a curse. “I forgot I have a job tomorrow, hyung. I don’t think I can go.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Absolutely not. No. I am not going to take one of your excuses this time. Is the job even real? No. You’re going.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines. “I do have a job.”

Hoseok is pulling open the door now, having elbowed Jimin out of the way. “I do not believe you. Go shower. I’m coming by at 8pm to dress you.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow. He knows he’s already lost, but he can’t stop himself from trying to fight it anyway. “I can dress myself, you know.”

Hoseok is already down the hallway, rounding the corner to the front office and exit. Jimin sighs at his friend’s back.

“I could have had a job tomorrow. You never know,” he says to no one before heading off to the showers.

~

Yoongi tosses the notepad onto the desk in frustration. He glances at the clock and regrets it immediately. It’s only noon and even though that doesn’t matter when he’s been in the same position, hunched over his notepad, sitting at his messy desk, music mixing software waiting patiently since yesterday. Yesterday morning. He thinks Namjoon brought him dinner, he glances at his trash can by the door. And yes, there’s the evidence, he did eat at least one meal in the over-24 hours he’s been here. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling relieved at the pressure. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

His self-loathing session is interrupted by a soft knock at the door, before the keypad is beeping with someone letting themselves in.

Yoongi turns back to his desk, instead of looking at the person stepping through his studio door. There are only two people who know the code beside him and one of them has never used it, probably never will. Instead, Yoongi starts tidying up the desk. Piling notepads and scraps of paper together neatly, putting loose pens away in their cute little Kumamon cup, straightening keyboards.

“Hyung, I brought lunch,” Namjoon says. “Were you here all night?”

Yoongi doesn’t bother to answer. Namjoon already knows the answer to the question. Yoongi finally turns to take in Namjoon and eye the take out containers being set on the small table at the end of the couch. He raises an eyebrow at the fried chicken containers.

“You here to break some bad news to me, Joon-ah?” he drawls.

“You wound me, hyung,” Namjoon says, but the blush blooming across his cheeks tells Yoongi all he needs to know.

“Let’s eat first so I can at least enjoy the food you went to all the trouble of bringing,” Yoongi says. “Fried chicken really deserves beer though.”

Namjoon sheepishly digs into his jacket pocket and produces a can of beer and then digs into the pocket on the other side to produce a second can.

“Shit,” Yoongi says with a whoosh of his exhale. “So, it’s really bad news.”

“Let’s eat first, hyung,” Namjoon says.

When they are done eating, sitting next to one another on the couch, Yoongi leans back giving his stomach an appreciative pat. He closes his eyes for a moment and enjoys the peace of the studio. Then after a deep inhale and exhale, he sits forward, forearms on his thighs, head cocked in Namjoon’s direction.

“Let’s hear it then,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon adjusts himself, clearly feeling anxious, jaw clenching just slightly. Yoongi watches all the little signs—tightening muscles, fingers twitching as if they want to be fists—Namjoon is angry. Not angry at Yoongi. No, he wouldn’t have brought chicken and beer if he were angry at Yoongi. But he’s angry.

“Spit it out, Namjoon,” Yoongi says flatly.

“They are summoning you back to the Seelie Court,” he says, voice tight, just like his muscles.

Yoongi blinks for a moment, processing the words. Then he pushes himself back, throwing all his weight to the back of the couch with a huff, kicking his feet out in front of him. He lets out a strangled laugh.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” he manages to say finally.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whispers.

“Well, I am not going,” Yoongi states definitively. “They can fucking kiss my ass. And they can fucking stop using you as a messenger. It’s bullshit to put you in this position. Fuck them.”

Namjoon makes a small choking noise in his throat, then coughs as if trying to clear it. “They’re worried you’re going rogue on them. I guess Sunhee was spreading rumors you were seen with folks from the Unseelie Court.”

Yoongi laughs freely and loudly this time. “With what time? I am literally in here most waking hours.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says. “They still want you to come. They didn’t say for how long.”

“Well, my answer is still no,” Yoongi says. “I am, in fact, under no obligation to scamper off to them when they beckon me. I haven’t been a member of the Court for a long time. They’re all just too far up their own asses to realize it.”

“I know, hyung,” Namjoon says again, letting Yoongi drop the topic.

“I’m glad you’re here though, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says. “Can I run some lyrics by you? This song is driving me up the fucking wall.”

Namjoon laughs, smiling with dimples and all. Yoongi returns his smile and gets up to retrieve the mess of notes he’d made about lyrics some time in the middle of last night. Both Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s phone chime at once.

Namjoon looks at his screen while Yoongi ignores his own phone in favor of searching through his messy handwriting for the lyrics he wanted to workshop.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

“What’s up?” Yoongi says distractedly, still rifling through his notes.

“Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon exclaims.

Yoongi stops looking through his notes and glances at Namjoon. “Really?”

“Old Canyon,” Namjoon says with a nod.

“Huh,” Yoongi says, thinking.

“We should go, right?” Namjoon sounds hopeful. “You need to be with people, hyung. You’ve been cooped up here for days—weeks. You could do a battle, even. You know that always gets you inspired after a battle.”

Yoongi looks back down at the scribbles and crossed-out chaos on the papers in front of him. He thinks about how terrifyingly behind he is on this song, deadline looming. He thinks about being hunched over his notes, his keyboard for several more hours on end, getting nowhere. 

“Sure,” he says, looking at Namjoon with a shrug. “Why not?”

~

Jimin looks at his reflection in the full length mirror hanging off the back of his bedroom door and exhales a pained sound through his teeth. 

“Hyung, I don’t know about this.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Hoseok looks him up and down critically as if looking for the mistake. “You look sexy, Jimin.”

“I think he looks emo as fuck,” Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone, lying on his back on Jimin’s bed.

Hoseok scoffs before he says, “ He’s emo? You have literally only worn the color black this entire calendar year.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook retorts. “Remember? When your parents visited? I wore that grey sweater.”

“Dark grey,” Hoseok mutters. Then he shakes his head and gives Jimin another once-over. “You look hot, Jimin. I see a hookup in your future. And then you’ll be thanking me.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “This is Friends Only, remember? If, and it’s already a big ‘if’, I wanted to get with someone, the odds of me finding anyone I’d want to hook up with are pretty low, hyung.”

Still, he looks at himself again in the mirror. The outfit, he will admit to himself—not out loud, he doesn’t want to give Hoseok that satisfaction—, but to himself, yes, the outfit is pretty hot. The black faux leather pants, practically skin tight, show off all his muscles earned from years of training. The black boots and black tee (again, rather skin tight) work in all the right ways. Pretty silver earrings dangle from his ears, his black hair intentionally a bit messy, like someone had grabbed onto it during a moment of passion, leaving it going every which way. 

The make-up though. He steps closer to the mirror, inspecting how Hobi put dark eyeliner around his eyes, silver-grey eyeshadow making him look…seductive. He sighs. He’s feeling anything but seductive at the moment.

“I think it’s too much, hyung,” he finally says. “People will be mad if I’m sending mixed-signals.”

“And what would you suggest wearing instead?” Hoseok narrows his eyes at Jimin, daring him to keep pushing. “A plastic bag? Or, worse yet, denim overalls.”

“Yah, what’s wrong with denim overalls?” Jimin quips back. 

Jungkook blinks over at them. “Yeah, I’ve even been known to wear denim overalls.”

“My point stands,” Hoseok says, his lips thin in feigned irritation. “Plus this is a Friends Only .”

Jimin clicks his tongue and looks at himself one more time. Then he glances over at Jungkook and says, “Yah, how come Jungkook isn’t getting all dolled up?”

Hoseok stares over at the boy who is laying one leg crossed over the other, foot jiggling wildly in the air, completely oblivious to the conversation, sucked into something on his phone. “He’s a lost cause, Jimin. Get him out of that oversize t-shirt? Convince him to wear something other than those boots that could stomp out an army? Nope. Lost cause.”

Jimin scoffs as he grabs his phone. “Alright well, let’s go get this over with. The sooner we go, the sooner we come back home and sleep.”

“That’s the spirit, hyung,” Jungkook says with a bright smile as he leaps gracefully off the bed.

~

Yoongi regrets. So much regret. He regrets convincing himself that coming to a Friends Only, right after the Seelie Court back-handedly summoned him, is anything but a terrible idea. There are fae everywhere. And maybe he’s being paranoid, but they keep giving him looks, like they all know—or at least know something he doesn’t. It’s unnerving.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi says, standing at the edge of the crowd, back to the large hangar door they came through. “Please tell me you also can see the chicken.”

“Chicken?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi points, blatantly, not caring if it’s rude, at the small hen sitting on a young woman’s shoulder, looking perfectly content despite the booming bass coming over the large industrial-size speakers.

“Ah, yes, that’s a chicken,” Namjoon confirms once his eyes find where Yoongi’s pointing.

Yoongi nods. He looks out to the mass of people. To the untrained eye it’s chaotic, a writhing storm of bodies convulsing and twisting in time with the bass that reverberates through the dirt floor. The flashing, colorful lights bounce off the corrugated metal ceiling of the warehouse they’re in. It’s dizzying.

“Alright, let’s go find sign ups,” Yoongi says, pulling Namjoon down by his arm so he can speak in his ear.

Namjoon nods and uses his height to look over the crowd. When he sees his target, he grabs Yoongi’s sleeve and weaves them through the mess of flailing limbs across the dance floor.

“V!” he yells when they’ve cleared the last bunch of dancers. 

It’s calmer over here on this side of the warehouse. The party is only getting started and most people haven’t made it this far into the building yet. The tall man with brown curly hair falling over his nape turns at the sound of his name. His hair is long in the front as well, falling artfully into his eyes, the curl of it making him look deceptively innocent. His careful brown tailored suit—cut to look just a little bit too big on his frame in a very intentional way—makes him look like he wandered into the industrial block from another time period, not just another neighborhood of Seoul. His wide eyes light up at the sight of Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Hyungs! You made it!” he exclaims, pulling Namjoon into a hug and then Yoongi. “You battling tonight?”

“Yoongi hyung is,” Namjoon says with a smile. “I’ve got other plans.”

Yoongi snorts at that before dryly asking, “Why bother even coming here at all if you’re just gonna take Jin back home immediately?”

Namjoon pouts. “He’ll want to dance first, hyung. Plus, maybe we’ll stay to watch your battle.”

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi says with a roll of his eyes. “We all know you’ll last 30 seconds before you both want to fuck.”

“Who’s fucking?” a cheery voice says from behind Yoongi.

“Apparently you and Namjoon hyung, hyung,” V says cheekily.

Jin sidles up in between Yoongi and Namjoon, sliding his arm around Namjoon’s. He smiles sweetly. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, well, I’ve heard enough,” Yoongi says, taking a step away from Jin. “You got my name down there, kid?”

“Yup,” V says. “Small crowd tonight. Maybe it’s the weather?”

“Storm’s coming, yes,” Jin says almost wistfully. “I heard the Court was asking for you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi stares Jin down and says, “Not you, too, hyung. Why do they think going through my fucking friends is going to work? It has never worked.”

“I guess they feel that sending a full on Sidhe to come collect you is extreme,” Jin replies.

Yoongi laughs at that. “It’s also not going to work. I would never accept their invitation and they can’t fucking touch me without it. They know it. They might be stupid, but they aren’t that stupid.”

Yoongi sees the look in Jin’s eyes, like he’s about to argue, about to tell him all the reasons he should have never left Court in the first place, but they’ve been over it. They’ve rehashed the argument so many times, it’s left a bad taste in Yoongi’s mouth.

“I’m gonna go find a drink before the battle starts. If I don’t see you, hyung, Namjoon, have a good night,” Yoongi says with a mock salute before he saunters away in desperate need of libation. He feels the eyes of not just his friends, but also of every fae in the room, follow him as he goes. He swallows the irritation down. He’ll save it for the floor.

~

“This was a mistake,” Jimin says. The three of them are standing across the street, encased in darkness with half the street lamps out, looking at the large warehouse where the Friends Only was probably already in full swing. From outside it’s dark and quiet. Not a stray bass note or strobe light makes an appearance on the quiet industrial block. Jimin shudders at the thought of the magic it took to create such a large masking spell, his stomach churning.

“How about this,” Hoseok says, voice pitched ready for negotiation. Well, he’s going to sound like he’s negotiating, but what he’s really going to do is convince Jimin to do whatever he wants him to, but Jimin will feel like he compromised somehow. “We’ll just pop in, watch a battle or two, have a drink, maybe take one spin on the floor, and then bounce.”

Jimin huffs out a laugh. “That’s basically the whole Friends Only, hyung.”

“Well, you can’t not see a battle. Those are half the fun of a Friends Only,” Hoseok argues.

“He’s right, you know,” Jungkook chimes in.

Jimin’s eyes narrow at him. “Not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Jungkook says without missing a beat.

“I’m not drinking,” Jimin says after giving Jungkook the stink eye.

“No one’s gonna try anything,” Hoseok says. “It’s a fucking Friends Only. They’d be dumb to.”

“I’m not fucking drinking, hyung,” Jimin says with finality. 

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to drink.”

“Let’s go,” Jungkook cuts in after looking back and forth between his hyungs.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Jimin says.

After they show their text message to the bouncer and get their hands stamped, they stand letting the scene before them wash over them as their eyes adjust to the low lighting. Despite his reticence, Jimin feels the thrill of the bass as it vibrates through the dirt floor below his boots. His body is already itching to get out on the dance floor.

“You have your phone, yes?” Hoseok yells into his ear. “Call if you need anything. And I mean, anything, right, Jimin-ah?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jimin answers, making sure to look Hoseok in the eye so he knows he’s serious.

“Alright, have fun!” Hoseok gives a blinding dimpled smile and then is off into the crowd.

Jimin scoffs and turns to see if Jungkook wants to dance, only to find Jungkook is already gone.

“Fuckers,” Jimin mutters under his breath.

He inhales deeply, ignoring the niggling anxiety in favor of the thrum of excitement that pushes from inside his chest. He decides he’ll make his way over to the pit where they have the battles, so he can snag a good spot. Hoseok was right when he said the battles are half the fun of coming to these things.

After pushing his way through the crowd, he’s pleased to see not many have gathered yet. The best spot along the wooden fencing that blocks the “pit” off from the main part of the warehouse is still devoid of people. The pit is not really a pit, just a cordoned off part of the floor, really, various barriers put in place to keep onlookers from crowding participants. The wooden fence is considered prime real estate because it’s stable enough to lean against comfortably and the view is great. Plus, sometimes if a battler is in the mood, they’ll come interact with the audience and the fence is the best point of access.

Jimin leans happily against the fence, chest pressed into the top rail of wood, fingers drumming in beat with the music. Pleased he’s going to be able to check Hoseok’s Friends Only to do list off quickly, he lets his thoughts drift as he waits for the battles to start. He vaguely wishes he had thought to grab a bottle of water on the way over.

“Hey, gorgeous, you here all alone?” a saccharine sweet voice drips out next to him.

Jimin doesn’t move, only flicking his eyes to the left to see the man that had ambled up next to him, leaning his back against the fence.

“You mean, like on this planet or here at the pit?” Jimin asks, biting the inside of his cheek.

The man laughs brightly, loudly. Not bright like Hoseok hyung’s laugh, but a fake shrill sound that grates on Jimin’s ears. “I’ll take the answer to either, but I meant here at the Friends Only, gorgeous.”

“No, I’m not,” Jimin says tersely. He’s already over whatever this guy thinks he’s trying to do right now.

“Well, I don’t see anyone,” the man replies.

Typical. Jimin moves his head subtly, just slightly, to get a better look at the man while trying to not appear too obvious. He’s tall with big muscles threatening to rip the skin tight white tee he has on. Jimin bites at his cheek again, assessing. He curses, not for the first or last time, that he’s human and can’t feel out if the guy is fae.

It’s a Friends Only. The odds aren’t in Jimin’s favor.

“Like what you see?” the man asks. His tone is smug, obnoxious.

Jimin scoffs, but almost chokes as the man turns his head to face Jimin. His eyes glint silver and as he smiles, it’s a little too wide. Like someone was trying to create a human but didn’t quite know what one looked like, just this side of creepy as fuck. Guess that answers the fae question.

“Not really my type, sorry,” Jimin grits out, turning to face firmly forward again, hoping for the battle to just start already.

“Ah, don’t judge a book by the cover, gorgeous,” the man says. “I’m sure I can be exactly what you like.”

“Seriously doubt it, so, no thanks,” Jimin says, refusing to move, to look at the man.

He doesn’t relax even as the man remains quiet. Then the MC is yelling into the mic.

“Hey, hey, hey, party people! You made it to the Only Friends! You ready to rumble?!” the woman shouts, cutting through the music on the speakers near the pit.

Jimin starts in surprise as he hears shouts and screams, realizing that at some point in the last few minutes the crowd must have filled in around him.

“Make some noise!” the MC shouts.

The screams and shouts grow louder. People around Jimin are stomping their feet, vibrating the dirt of the floor. Jimin joins them with a simple loud “whoop” and stomps his feet. He feels the thrill sing in his veins.

“Alright, alright! First up, we have two competitors who have battled in the pit before! Please welcome K-K-K-KilllerKraft aaand YoFlow!”

The lights flash in brightly strobing rainbows as the crowd thrums in excitement. Jimin feels bodies press in around him. People manage to stay fairly respectful, even if they are hoping to get that much closer to the action, but he notices the man that had been poorly hitting on him earlier is definitely taking advantage of the proximity. He can feel like sides bump into one another, even if the man is keeping himself facing the pit.

Two men come out to the pit to more shouting and screaming from the crowd. Jimin does his best to ignore the constant presses at his side, watching the pit. He’s seen YoFlow perform before, not having been particularly impressed with his flow, despite the choice of stage names. KillerKraft is a new name for Jimin, so he waits to see what he’s got to offer.

The two men in the pit turn to face one another, each holding a mic in their hands. They are both posturing, making gestures and moving in circles confidently around the pit. Neither seem to remember there is an audience at all, both focused on the other.

Jimin sighs. He’s been to enough battles that he knows this is going to be a boring one. The two men are way too focused on dick measuring instead of performing. Sure enough, as soon as the music dropped signalling the start of the battle, the beat and flow changing, the crowd falling silent in anticipation, YoFlow jumps into lyrics about how many women he fucked this week. Boring. And also lies, Jimin thinks, looking YoFlow over. There is no way he’s getting women to give him a second look with that attitude.

KillerKraft is marginally better. The bar is low though, so that’s not really saying much. At least he manages to use some metaphor as he plays off some of YoFlow’s lyrics. Boring.

That’s when Jimin feels the creeping sensation at the back of his neck. At first he thinks it’s just in his head. He gets like that sometimes. So anxious he starts seeing or feeling things. But it doesn’t stop. Then the weight of the man who had lodged himself without permission against his side moves, so he’s half behind Jimin, pressing into his back. This forces his chest to dig uncomfortably into the wood in front of him. Panic wells up inside of Jimin. He has a half-fleeting thought that this behavior is very on theme .

“Fucking get off me,” he says, or tries to. It comes out as more of a wheeze between the panic gripping his throat and the pressure of the wooden beam on his lungs.

He can feel a hot breath on his neck as the man leans in to speak into his ear. “Just relax, gorgeous. I promise I’ll take good care of you tonight.”

And Jimin can feel it. The words are laced with symbols, infused with whatever fae magic this guy is channeling. The panic rises and rises, his heart pounding, throat closing.

“St-st-stop it,” he pants out. He briefly thinks of trying to thrust his elbow backwards, maybe get the guy to step back so he can get away, but his arms are sluggish and awkwardly trapped up by his chest on the wooden fence beam.

“Or what,” the man breathes. “What are you going to do, human?”

Tears prick his eyes as he feels his body involuntarily relaxing everywhere the man is touching, the spell taking effect. Everything feels heavy and it takes all his willpower to keep from sinking backwards into the man completely. A tear rolls down his cheek as he hears the man’s pleased, “That’s it, gorgeous. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good.”

Fucking Friends Only. Fucking magic. Fucking fae. He’s going to kill Hoseok for bringing him here. He’s going to hate himself forever for letting himself come here. The scream that’s building, building, building in his throat chokes him, having nowhere to go, no escape.

~

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders to loosen them up under his leather jacket. He jumps a bit in place, getting blood flowing. He’d been half-listening to the first battle and he’s a bit disappointed at the competition. He could really use a real challenge. He thinks he should have worked harder to get Namjoon to sign up. Then maybe he’d feel a lick of anxiety right now. He runs his hand through his jaw-length hair.

“Okay, give a big round of applause for KillerKraft, winner of our first battle!” the MC shouts through the mic. “And let’s make some noise to encourage YoFlow! Better luck next time!”

Yoongi scoffs. Fucking Friends Only. Ridiculous. Why not just give everyone gold stars? Participation trophies?

“And nowwwwww!!” the MC continues. “We have a special treat, folks! A legend walks among us! Make some noise for our one and only, Agust D!”

With one swift inhale and one long exhale, Yoongi becomes Agust D and walks out into the pit. The crowd is so loud the ground shakes. Yoongi can never get used to it—the enthrallment, not spelled, that takes over the crowd whenever he’s on stage. Agust D, however, soaks that shit up. It keeps his heart beating.

With cold eyes and subtle movements, he steps around the pit, facing his opponent. This KillerKraft is new on the circuit, a kid. Agust D can see through all the bravado, immediately spots every single weakness, and gets ready to strike.

Agust D smirks as KillerKraft opens his rap keeping with the motif of the last battle—sexual conquests and prowess. Child’s play. The kid falters at Agust D’s smirk, knows he’s waded too deep, he’s out of the kiddy pool without his floaties.

The beat shifts, changes, and the MC shouts “Agust D!”

The crowd is screaming before Agust D even has the mic up to his lips. His eyes glint steel, boring a hole into the kid in front of him.

“Hey you, thinking you’re a contender,

Spending all your time begging women to look your direction

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology

Go back to school kid, Get your grades up kid

Watch me a while, Study this flow here

While I’ve got men and women burning for me

Simply from my tongue technology”

Agust D turns from the kid then, who is pale and clearly knows he’s beat, and looks out to the audience. The crowd is screaming and jumping, losing their minds as Agust D keeps rapping. He walks along the edge of the pit, occasionally reaching a hand out, letting people from the crowd brush his palm. Every single person is in the zone with him, flowing along with his cadence, like one organism writhing with life.

All except one person. Agust D, wraps up his last stanza and the MC is shouting about his victory as he comes up to a section of the wooden fence where a man—beautiful, ethereal—is leaned chest against the wood, knuckles white as fingers grip the top of the beam. A tear track on his cheek, streaked black with his makeup, is shocking against his skin. Aside from the tension in his hands, his body seems relaxed. A large man—sylph by the looks of him—is standing directly behind, towering over the angelic man. At a glance it might look like they are just leaning into one another enjoying the show. But Agust D, following the tension in the shorter man’s hands juxtaposed with his body being propped up by the larger man, not to mention the tear, is setting off all kinds of alarms.

So, instead of going back to the center of the pit to accept his victory in the battle, he continues walking until he’s directly in front of the pair, only separated by the wooden fence. He watches the man’s wide teary eyes follow him as he approaches.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Agust D asks the shorter man, not even bothering to look in the taller man’s direction.

He doesn’t need a verbal response. The large eyes, brimming with more tears are enough to tell him all he needs to know.

“Okay,” Agust D says. He flicks his eyes up to the taller man who is staring down at him looking enraged. “I suggest you back the fuck off now.”

“Fuck you, I found him first,” the man spits out.

Possibly, maybe, in this moment, if Yoongi were Yoongi, this would go down a bit differently. But Agust D is at the mic. The mic that he lifts to his face. The face that is smirking, fire burning in his eyes. The man looks back confidently, smiling too widely, challenging the rapper.

So Agust D accepts the challenge.

“Everyone! We having a good night?” Agust D asks.

The crowd screams.

“I can’t hear you,” Agust D says calmly into the mic.

The crowd writhes, pushing forward as feet stomp and voices pitch higher.

“Everyone, make some fucking noise!” Agust D growls, elongating all the vowels as he speaks.

The crowd screams so loudly, his ears go fuzzy and he feels the shock in his skull. 

After the crowd settles down a little, waiting for Agust D’s next words, he speaks again. “Friends Only is a great place, don’t you think?”

Screams of agreement ring out.

“Well, we have a problem here at tonight’s Friends Only, everyone,” Agust D says, eyes locking with the taller man who is now gripping tightly at the shorter man’s upper arms. That’s going to leave bruises. Agust D sees red. “Someone has used their magic on one of our Friends without their consent, everyone. You and I both know that ruins the fun for everyone. Isn’t that right?”

There are gasps and angry cries in the crowd now as people start to catch on to what Agust D is saying.

“What do we do to people who use magic on a Friend without consent, everyone?”

The crowd responds immediately in a unified voice, “Life ban! Life ban! Life ban!”

“That’s right. Life ban. So I suggest you get fucking lost, asshole,” Agust D keeps his piercing gaze on the taller man. “I know your face. You fucked up at a Friends Only. Consider this Friendship canceled. Get the fuck out.”

The crowd keeps chanting “Life ban!” as the man—finally—steps away from the shorter man, who collapses against the fence, barely holding himself up. The taller man, anger still clear as day on his face, storms through the crowd, cursing as he goes.

Agust D turns to the MC, shouts “catch” a moment before throwing the mic at them, and then is launching himself over the wooden fence in the blink of an eye. When he lands in the dirt on the other side, Agust D melts away and Yoongi is left reaching out for the man who is sliding down to the floor, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Hey, hey, there we go,” Yoongi murmurs as he slides down next to the other man, catching him under his arm before he completely hits the floor. Yoongi helps him all the way down so his back is propped up against the fence, still holding him up with one arm.

“Can you speak?” Yoongi asks, watching the man’s face carefully.

The man’s throat convulses several times as he swallows, clearly trying to get control back of his body.

“Can I– fuck,” Yoongi says as he watches the man’s eyes fill with tears again. “Can I ask permission to summon a release spell? It won’t do anything but undo some of that asshole’s summons.”

The man is trembling slightly, his eyes are wide, tears flowing down his cheeks again, but—almost imperceptibly—he nods.

Yoongi nods in return and then closes his eyes. In general, he doesn’t spell much, at least not this way. His music is a kind of magic, too, but takes none of the effort that summoning spells does. He imagines the symbols for release and freedom. He wants to add one for peace or safety but knows that would be a step too far, so he leaves it. With a soft hum on his lips, he pulls at the magic and it pulses through his own arm where he’s holding onto the man.

The man pulls in a loud gasp, gulping at air, and a full-fledged panic attack crashes over him. Yoongi adjusts himself so the man is leaning more firmly against the fence post, so that Yoongi can get eye-to-eye with the man.

“Hey, Friend, can you hear me?” Yoongi asks.

The man’s breathing is so rapid, Yoongi is afraid he’s going to pass out. He’s shivering too, which Yoongi frowns at. The man’s tight tee and leggings not helping him be warm or comfortable. Yoongi shrugs himself out of his leather jacket and pulls the man forward enough to get the jacket around his shoulders. Then he settles the man back against the fence post and watches as he gasps for air.

“Listen to my voice, Friend,” Yoongi continues. “Follow my breathing. In– and out– that’s right.”

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, the man’s breathing finally, finally regulating.

“There we go,” Yoongi says. “What’s your name?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin,” the man says. He wipes aggressively at his cheeks with his hands and then gasps at his hands as they come back black from the makeup. Almost to himself, as he wipes the makeup stains onto his pants, he mutters, “Fuck. I fucking hate Friends Only.”

“I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says after a moment. “Is there someone we can call?”

Jimin laughs. It’s a bit pitched, a bit hysterical. Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Jimin pushes himself up, making to stand instead of continuing to sit on the dirt floor. Yoongi hovers but doesn’t touch him. Jimin leans himself against the pole, now standing mostly upright, shrugging Yoongi’s leather jacket around himself.

“I know who you are. You’re literally a famous rapper,” Jimin says, voice as pitched and hysterical as his laugh. In a different context he might sound cheeky or mocking in a friendly way. But here, in this tucked away corner of the warehouse, he sounds lost, terrified.

“Do you have someone you can call?” Yoongi asks again. He wants to reach out with a hand and hold Jimin in some way, to help him, but he knows more unprovoked, unconsented touch right now will not be helpful.

“Yeah. I-” Jimin starts, but is cut off by another voice shrieking his name.

Yoongi watches as V comes barreling towards them across the floor, the crowd that had formed around the pit completely dissipated now that the entertainment is over.

“Jimin?! Jimin! What the fuck happened?”

~

Jimin feels the breath get knocked out of him all over again as a body engulfs him in a full body hug. His back presses up against the fence once more, but instead of anxious, he feels safe and protected.

“Taehyung,” he breathes into the other man’s neck. “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

Taehyung pulls back and looks at Jimin’s face. His hands come up to cup Jimin’s cheeks, thumbs wiping away some of the smeared makeup. Jimin melts into the gentle touches.

“What happened, Jimin-ah?” he asks.

“There was a guy– an asshole,” Jimin starts, but finds he can’t really come up with the right words. His eyes flit from Taehyung’s face to Yoongi’s, who is standing in the same place he had been before Taehyung’s arrival.

Taehyung follows the movement of Jimin’s eyes and turns to look at Yoongi. 

“Is this the asshole?” Taehyung asks, his face the perfect picture of confusion.

“No! No! He– he helped me,” Jimin says quickly.

“Do you two know each other?” Yoongi asks. He looks back and forth between the two, noting how Taehyung’s hands are still caressing Jimin’s cheeks.

“This is my soulmate! Jimin!” Taehyung says enthusiastically. 

Jimin watches as Yoongi furrows his brow for a moment and then a look of enlightenment blooms on his face. He smiles as he says, “Oh, you’re Park Jimin. I should have recognized your name. I’m sorry.”

Jimin blinks at Yoongi’s smile. He’s not sure he’s ever seen it. He’s been going to battles for the last couple of years, ever since Hoseok took him to one his first weekend after moving to Seoul. Of course, he realizes, he’s never really seen Yoongi before either. He’s only really seen Agust D. Agust D has a wicked, soul-crushing smirk, but never smiles. Which is hot as hell, but Jimin thinks he might actually find Yoongi’s sweet gum-filled smile more attractive.

“Wait,” Jimin says, jolting in an epiphany. He points a finger back and forth between the two men. “Do you know each other?”

“Yoongi is my hyung,” Taehyung says happily, as if that is enough explanation of anything. “But seriously, what happened?”

This time Taehyung glances back to Yoongi to see if he’ll fill in any of the details. Yoongi looks at Jimin with a question in his eyes. Jimin nods. “I– I don’t know if I want to talk about it right now. But you can tell him.” 

Yoongi nods before he looks at Taehyung. He says slowly, “Well, the short version is some asshole sylph spelled Jimin without his consent and I had to ban him.”

“What the fuck?” Taehyung screeches. Now he’s pulling Jimin back in front of him by the shoulders and inspecting him all over. “What did he do? What the fuck? This is a Friends Only . Oh, my goddess, and in front of you , hyung. What the fuck was he thinking?”

Jimin is jostled this way and that as Taehyung keeps on with his inspection. He’s starting to shake a bit again, at the memories of the spell that had seeped in his veins, unfortunately far too similar to the exhaustion left in the wake of his panic attack. A shiver runs up his spine and then he starts feeling a bit dizzy.

“V, look, I banned him, okay?” Yoongi is saying flatly.

“Should have fucked him up first, is what I’m saying, hyung,” Taehyung replies with a pout.

Yoongi laughs. Jimin watches him, even with his vision swimming a bit. Is this normal? Or is this residual effects of the spelling? Multiple spells, he remembers. His breath catches. Yoongi can summon. Fuck, Yoongi can summon.

“Are you okay, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asks. His hands are back on Jimin’s cheeks, moving to feel his forehead. “You’re a little cold. Are you feeling ill?”

Then he glances at Yoongi, and says, “What did that asshole do?”

“I don’t know, I think it was just a standard immobility spell,” Yoongi says with a frown. He steps a bit closer to look at Jimin’s eyes. Jimin gulps in air as his lungs seize in fear. Yoongi stops and takes a step back again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jimin-ssi.”

“Hyung is good, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung murmurs comfortingly. “He won’t hurt you.”

Jimin shakes his head. He’s not sure what he’s saying no to. It’s not that he thinks Yoongi will hurt him, per se. Shaking his head brings the dizziness back full force. He throws his arms out, flailing for something to hold onto before he falls over. Taehyung is there immediately, arm under his curled protectively around his back, keeping him upright.

“He’s really cold, hyung,” Jimin hears Taehyung say. “Jimin-ah? Who did you come with?”

“Ho-Hoseok hyung, Jungkook,” Jimin mutters out through gritted teeth, sure if he opens his mouth too widely he will throw up. “Uh, ‘m not, not feeling good.”

The room is well and truly spinning now. Jimin is pretty sure he says, “Wanna go home, Tae-ah,” right before everything goes black.

~

“What the fuck?” Hoseok says again. Yoongi’s lost count of the number of times the man has uttered the phrase in the last 10 minutes. Each time he’s put different emphasis on the words, perhaps stressing the parts that are most perplexing to him in the moment. He stares down at Jimin, sound asleep on the couch, as he says, again, “What the fuck ?”

“Did any of the cameras catch that guy? Any of the wards? We should be pressing charges,” Jungkook says, eyes flashing gold in the light. He’s tense, hands fists at his side. He’s on the far side of the room, as if he’s afraid his negative energy is going to somehow impact Jimin’s sleep. Of course, with Jungkook, that’s not an impossibility.

“Namjoon and Jin are talking to security right now,” Taehyung says. He’s sitting on the floor of the small room, leaning up against the couch, hand slowly carding through Jimin’s hair as he watches the man sleep. He had already cleaned Jimin’s face and hands free of makeup with a wet cloth early. Yoongi watches, mesmerized by the tender care exhibited by the normally no-nonsense, zero shits given V.

The room itself holds nothing but a filing cabinet, a table, both shoved against one wall gathering dust, and the couch. For the gathering tonight, it’s meant to be a rest area, and seems to be serving its purpose well at the moment. 

“What the fuck,” Hoseok growls, his hands yanking at his own short hair in frustration. “I brought him here thinking he’d be safe. He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s not going to hate you, hyung,” Jungkook murmurs. He seems to have deflated some of his anger. “Friends Only is supposed to be safe. We couldn’t have known.”

“How is it that all of you know him,” Yoongi says, waving towards the sleeping man, “and I’ve never met him.”

The other three men glance at each other and shrug in unison.

“Well, I’ve known him since university,” Taehyung says and looks at the other two men.

“And, as you might have guessed,” Hoseok says, “we dance together.”

Everyone glances at Jungkook who looks tense again. His jaw flexes as he says in a low tone, “I’m his Guardian.”

“Ah,” is all Yoongi says, glancing back at Jimin.

“I actually didn’t realize he and Tae were close until now,” Hoseok adds.

“Soulmates,” Taehyung corrects. He looks back down at Jimin and whispers, “Soulmates.”

Yoongi nods. He feels a bit like a creep watching Jimin sleep, so he looks up and around the room, occasionally accidentally making eye contact with the others as they all stand vigil forcing his eyes to pingpong all over the place. Nervously he quickly glances at Jimin again. Yoongi is feeling oddly protective of this man he just met. He doesn’t know his story, but Yoongi is finding he really wants to know it.

“I need to get back to the floor,” Taehyung says, reluctance clear in his tone. “You’ll stay with him?”

Yoongi is surprised that Taehyung is addressing him and not the other two men in the room—the men that are actually Jimin’s friends. Everyone is looking at him and he feels sick as he recognizes the looks on their faces. Reverence, respect, deference. All the foolishness he’d left behind when he walked away from the Seelie Court. He glances down at Jimin again and understands. They’re trusting him, Yoongi, to protect their friend.

“I, uh, yes,” Yoongi says after a long pause. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his teeth. “I’ll stay.”

With that, Taehyung nods and stands, dusting the dirt off his trousers. “Thank you, hyung. If there’s a lull, I’ll come check on you.”

“Let me go with you,” Hoseok says. “I want to see what Namjoon and Jin have found on the CCTV.”

Yoongi watches as both men walk out and then looks at Jungkook. “How’re you holding up, kid?”

The younger man, eyes still trained on the sleeping man on the couch, just shrugs. After a moment he says, “I’ve been better.”

Yoongi nods. He doesn’t know much about imugi guardian bonds, but considering how protective he himself is feeling for the human sleeping away on the couch completely unconscious to the turmoil going around in his friend group, he can’t imagine Jungkook is feeling great. Yoongi allows himself to ponder for a moment more what it is about this human that has everyone so whipped. Yoongi is broken out of his reverie as Jungkook shifts in his place on the far side of the room, moving his weight from foot to foot.

“Do– do you think something is wrong with him?” Jungkook asks in a small voice.

Yoongi looks at him carefully, noting the gold glint in his eyes and the way his fists are white-knuckled and tense at his side still. He answers him slowly, “I think he’s human and was put through a lot of stress. I got rid of all the casting on him, but I think his body still needs to recover from the effects.”

“But he will recover,” Jungkook says. It sounds like a statement, but there’s just enough tremor in his voice to make it sound uncertain.

“He will recover, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says. “He’ll be fine.”

They fall into a silent vigil after that, only the muffled thrum of the bass from the dance music can be heard through the walls, waiting for the others to come back with news or for Jimin to wake up. Yoongi finds his mind wandering, thinking through how the day had gone absolutely fucking sideways. He can’t entirely say he regrets it though.

“Cocky little shit probably didn’t even realize we use CCTV in this place,” Jin says. He and Namjoon returned less than an hour after they settled Jimin on the couch in the lounge.

“Cocky? Or an idiot?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow raised.

“Probably both, honestly,” Namjoon says. “We were able to pull multiple angles of his face before, during, and after the, uh, incident.”

“It’s already been sent around to those that need to know,” Jin says. “If he’s smart, he’ll have already fucked off back to the Dreaming or at least out of this city.”

“What are the chances we’ll get that lucky?” Yoongi grumbles. “You said it. Cocky and stupid. Not a winning combo.”

“He better hope he doesn’t run into me on the street,” Jungkook says darkly.

Yoongi eyes him warily. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid. You can’t Guard him if you’re banished back to the Dreaming.”

Jungkook gives a huff and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Let’s just hope we’ve seen the last of the sylph then,” Jin says, patting Yoongi on the shoulder.

~

The first thing Jimin is aware of is his pounding headache. His hands immediately go up to rub his temples to try to find some relief. He slowly tries to squint his eyes open, but the fluorescent lighting makes the pounding in his head worse. With a groan, he pushes himself upright, the world spinning for a moment as he tries to piece together how he got here.

“Woah, woah, not too fast,” Jimin hears a low, gravely voice say. 

“Drink this, hyung,” a much more familiar voice says and a bottle of water is floating in front of his face.

He gulps the whole bottle down greedily. He looks around the room again as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s half-laying, half-sitting on a dingy couch in what looks like a converted office or storeroom. Kneeling in front of him are Agust D— what the fuck —and Jungkook. Where Agust D’s face looks neutral, Jungkook’s is pinched with worry.

“How are you feeling, hyung?” Jungkook says, gently taking the empty water bottle and cap out of Jimin’s hands.

‘I– what happened?” Jimin finally asks, mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out how he got here. His memory is coming back in snapshots and the images he’s seeing are disconcerting to say the least.

“Do you remember the rap battle?” Jungkook asks. Jimin thought he’d looked worried a moment ago, but that was apparently just mild concern. The look on his face now is definitely worried.

“I– oh,” Jimin says as soon as he does remember the rap battle. “There was a handsy asshole that wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Then the evening clicks into place. Jimin shuts his eyes as he says, “Oh, he used magic on me. He fucking magic-roofied me.”

Jungkook makes a small whimpering, broken sound in his throat. Jimin throws his eyes back open to see the tears welling up in Jungkook’s eyes. Without thinking he opens his arms and Jungkook falls into them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, hyung,” Jungkook says in a small voice. “The hyungs are making sure he can’t come back, won’t bother you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Won’t leave you alone again.”

“Hush,” Jimin says, patting Jungkook’s back. The sadness in Jungkook’s voice is the most sobering of medicines. “It’s not your fault. It’s that magic-wielding fae’s fault. No one else’s. Besides, what could you have done anyway, huh? You know I’d rather see you safe.”

Jungkook nods from Jimin’s shoulder, his face buried in Jimin’s neck. The man still kneeling on the floor in front of the couch makes a small coughing noise that Jimin almost mistakes for a laugh.

Jimin’s eyes flick over to the man, Agust D—no, he’s Yoongi right now—still has a neutral expression on his face. His hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail. Jimin feels a needling sense of irritation in his chest at the sight of him. In entirely different circumstances, Jimin would find him attractive—like beyond attractive, really. But the fact is, they are in these circumstances and Jimin finds the pull to this man irritating at best.

“Why are you here, exactly?” Jimin asks.

“Your friends asked me to look out for you,” Yoongi says calmly.

Jungkook pushes himself up so that he’s sitting at Jimin’s knees, on the edge of the couch. Jimin keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

“Well,” Jimin continues shortly, waving his hand at himself dismissively, “as you can see, I am now fine. So, you can fuck off.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers, sounding aghast.

“No, Jungkook, don’t,” Jimin says. He refuses to take his eye off the fae in front of him though. “Thank you, Yoongi-ssi, for stepping in and for helping my friends out. I am no longer in need of your services.”

Yoongi opens his mouth and then closes it again. Jimin narrows his eyes at him, challenging him to try arguing. Just as Yoongi opens his mouth again, the door to the room opens and Hoseok walks in with two other men. Jimin has to do a double-take to realize it’s Namjoon and his boyfriend.

“You’re awake!” Hoseok says cheerfully as he hurries over to Jimin’s side, nudging Yoongi out of the way. Yoongi nearly falls over, but catches himself and stands up, fading into the background of the group as everyone crowds around.

Jimin looks at everyone’s stricken faces and plasters a smile on his face and lies, “I’m fine. Everyone is so dramatic.”

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok starts.

“No, no, you know what,” Jimin interrupts. “I am going to go dance. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m going to go dance, like I planned. Then I’m going to go home. Everyone is being so ridiculous.”

He pushes himself up off the couch in one movement and only feels a little bit dizzy. He hides it well, he thinks. Hoseok hovers at his elbow, but doesn’t intervene. Jungkook stands to be at his other side. With the two of them flanking him, he feels fairly confident.

“Jimin, are you sure? I can take you home,” Namjoon says.

“No, hyung, that’s okay,” Jimin says as he shakes his head. He’s incredibly impressed with himself at how stable he sounds. “I don’t want to ruin your night. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no trouble,” Namjoon’s boyfriend says. Jimin feels a little bad that he can’t remember his name right now.

“No, hyung, I’m okay,” Jimin is even more impressed with himself now that he manages to sound exasperated.

Yoongi, who has edged back into the circle of men standing around Jimin, says softly, “I can stay with you or, well, not actually dancing, but I can keep an eye out.”

Jimin tenses to hide his shudder. “No, thank you, again, Yoongi-ssi. I’ve had quite enough of fae tonight, thank you.”

With that declaration he turns on his heel and walks to the door, confidently pulls it open, and steps back out into the warehouse.

~

Jungkook and Hoseok are quick on Jimin’s heels as he makes his dramatic exit from the rest room. Hoseok throws an apologetic smile over his shoulder before he’s shutting the door behind him. In the few seconds the door is open, the room seems to fill with music, but the silence after the door shuts is deafening.

“Does– does he not know you are all fae?” Yoongi says to no one in particular in the wake of Jimin’s departure.

“I guess not,” Jin says with a click of his tongue. 

Namjoon looks just as bewildered as the other two as he says, “I guess it never came up?”

Yoongi huffs out a laugh then, perhaps bordering on hysterical. He says faintly, “That’s– that’s maybe the most nonsensical encounter I’ve ever had in my life. And I fucking lived at Court for years. What the fuck.”

Neither Jin nor Namjoon seem to have a response to that other than for Jin to give Yoongi’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Are you going to report that sylph to the Court, Joon-ah?” Yoongi asks. “He really shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with humans.”

“I do think he is a liability walking around Seoul,” Namjoon agrees.

“You know, Yoongi-chi,” Jin says. He kicks the heel of his right foot against the toes of his left, looking the picture of innocence, even as his voice sounds coy. “You could deliver the report yourself. It would have more weight coming from you.”

Yoongi scoffs. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before he says, “You know fucking well that Namjoon’s voice has plenty of weight.”

“Well, just think about it,” Jin says.

Yoongi slowly nods his head in a way he knows can only be interpreted as sarcastic.

“Okay, well, this has been some kind of evening,” Yoongi says. “I’m gonna fuck off home now.”

He pats his side for his phone only to discover his pocket isn’t there, because he’s not wearing his leather jacket. Because Jimin is wearing it.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Then he laughs again—breathy with an edge to it. Then he growls, “Fuck!”

The two men in front of him look understandably bewildered. Namjoon opens his mouth to ask, but Yoongi is already moving towards the door.

As Yoongi rips the door open, he yells back at the two wide-eyed men, “I gave my fucking jacket to the kid and the jacket has my phone in it!”

Yoongi decides to ignore Jin’s stage whisper, “how chivalrous” as he stalks out to the dance floor.

Following the thumping of the bass and skirting around the throng of people dancing in the warehouse, Yoongi finally spots Jimin dancing sandwiched in between Hoseok and Jungkook, who are each facing inward. There’s a fine cloud of dust from the dirt floor of the warehouse, creating a hazy scene. They are all moving their hips synchronously, arms draped across each other’s hips and shoulders. They all look hot and sweaty. Entirely too warm to be wearing Yoongi’s leather jacket, which Jimin still is. Jimin tilts his head back in a clear laugh, even though nothing can be heard above the din of the music.

Yoongi grits his teeth, eyes are trained on Jimin, as he feels a spark of heat ignite in his gut. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Park Jimin is a menace. Whatever it is he and Jimin are doing right now, Yoongi knows he needs to come out on top or have the last word or whatever it is. He needs it. So, Yoongi decides to go find something to drink and wait the younger man out. Yoongi is nothing if not a patient man.

~

Jimin can see Yoongi watching him. Jimin hates it. He’s determined to ignore it. He carefully starts to move Yoongi out of his line of sight, slowly but surely navigating the trio in the opposite direction so that he doesn’t have to see him staring at him and feel heat from his gaze any longer. Every time he tries to move his trio of dancers around the dance floor, he still somehow catches Yoongi’s eyes on him, dark gaze piercing through his skin into his bones and nerves. Jimin’s skin crawls with the feeling of eyes on him. A part of him is angry about the fact that he likes it, likes that feeling. It makes him feel important, desired almost. But he quickly pushes the thought away, knowing it’s dangerous and alluring in equal measure. His frustration builds until he can’t take it anymore and can’t be held responsible for what he does next.

“Mother fucker, what is his problem?” Jimin growls out.

His two dance partners, clearly still on alert from earlier, whip their heads up to look at him, stopping right in the middle of the dance floor. Jungkook’s hands hover over Jimin, eyes scanning, as if checking for injuries.

“What is it? What happened?” Hoseok asks.

“He’s fucking watching me!” Jimin says, ignoring the ridiculous hysteria of his two friends.

“Who? Who is watching you?” Jungkook says quickly, whipping his head all around as if looking for some boogieman to come out of the dance floor.

“Min Fucking Yoongi,” Jimin grits out.

Much to Jimin’s annoyance, both his dance partners visibly deflate, tension leaving their bodies.

Jimin bites back his urge to scream in frustration and instead yells, “Why do you guys trust him? He can fucking cast! Why are you even friends with him? How are you even friends with him?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when Hoseok cuts him off with a shake of his head. Instead, the older man wraps his hand around Jimin’s waist to steer him off the dance floor, Jungkook trailing behind them.

“Hyung,” Jimin says shortly, once they are away from the swaying mass of dancing bodies, towards the outer edge of the warehouse where it’s a little easier to hear one another.

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok says sweetly. “Maybe we should call it a night, hm? It’s been a hard night, yeah?”

“Okay, I know that face,” Jimin says, eyes narrowing. “You’re lying to me. There’s something you’re not saying. What the hell is going on?”

Hoseok has the gall to look sheepish. His gaze stays low and he puts his hands in his pockets. Jimin glances at Jungkook who is also looking awkwardly down at his own boots, nervously twisting the ball of one foot into the dirt.

“Here you are!” a shrill voice calls out. Jimin looks to see Namjoon and his boyfriend approaching. Namjoon’s boyfriend—Jimin is feeling increasingly angry at himself for not remembering his name—is apparently the one that called out to them. “I thought you would have gone home after a few dances!”

“Hyung!” Hoseok says cheerfully, his smile heart-shaped, all remnants of sheepishness gone.

“We were just talking about taking off,” Jungkook says. He, Jimin thinks, at least has the decency to look a little wary and guilty.

“The fuck we were,” Jimin growls. “These two were about to explain to me the thing none of you are saying. Why do you trust Min Yoongi? Why are you friends with him?”

“Why are we friends with Min Yoongi?” Namjoon’s boyfriend blinks.

Jimin crosses his arms across his chest to keep himself from exploding. “Yes, why do you all hang out with a fae?”

“I really think we should head home,” Hoseok tries again. But, at the same time, Namjoon, still trying to understand Jimin’s question, speaks over the top of him.

“I don’t understand why we wouldn’t know Yoongi hyung. We all know each other from Court.” Namjoon says. He turns to confirm this with the others as Jimin stares at him, Namjoon’s words sinking into Jimin’s skull.

Jimin thinks everyone starts screaming at Namjoon, but he’s not sure. His ears go fuzzy with white noise and it feels like someone pulled the bottom out from the floor. He frowns at his group of friends, all bickering and gesticulating at one another.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says in a neutral voice. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say– did you just say you’re fae?”

With a mind that has gone amazingly blank, he waves his hand around the group of four to accentuate his point. “All of you are fae?”

The silence is telling. Jimin doesn’t even have the courage to look at their faces. He swallows thickly. “Is anyone else fae around here that hasn’t bothered to tell me?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon supplies, with Hoseok body slamming him a half a second later.

“Taehyung,” Jimin repeats blankly. “My Taehyung?”

Again, silence falls across the group.

Jimin is sure the music is still playing. The party goes on. But none of that matters. He doesn’t hear any of it. All he hears is static. Jimin’s eyes burn like embers with tears he absolutely refuses to shed. He feels betrayal like ice in his veins. Jimin can’t move. His limbs feel heavy, like lead, and his head is spinning. He feels like he’s in a dream. But this isn’t a dream. He reels trying to get some semblance of control back, feeling a little like he’s going mad.

He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths as he tries to grapple with the revelation that everyone around him is fae, putting pieces together of his memories, trying to find the place where he missed this key detail. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can’t seem to shake off the feeling like he’s been the butt of some sick cosmic joke.

“Was there going to be a point in time when any of you thought to, I don’t know, tell me about this?” Jimin asks calmly.

He watches as the four men in front of him glance at each other. Anger flares up inside him, hot and fierce. He scoffs, an embittered smirk plastered on his face, and he rolls his eyes. He feels the anger build until he’s sure the lava inside him is visible even to those standing guiltily in front of him.

“Fuck this,” Jimin hisses. He’s spent the last several years apparently good friends with fae—a lot of fae. He looks at Jungkook, who he’s known forever, and feels his heart crack in his chest. He watches as a tear slides down Jungkook’s cheek. Jimin thinks he should feel bad, and maybe he will later, but right now he feels like all the people in front of him have just confirmed his suspicions—fae manipulate and spell to get what they want.

“Hyung, I can explain,” Jungkook’s broken voice is muffled by the static still echoing in Jimin’s ears. Jimin just numbly shakes his head.

Jimin realizes he’s been unknowingly playing with fire his whole life, a fire he grew up fearing, and his rage turns to impulsiveness. His mind whirring with ways he can take back control of this, of his life, of who he spends time with. At that moment he feels like there has only been one person this evening who has been honest with him. So, without another word to the speechless men— fae —in front of him, he turns on his heel, knowing exactly where the man is standing against the warehouse wall, still feeling his gaze burn holes into his skin, like a beacon.

Jimin can hear the surprised shouts and protests from his friends but he ignores them and stalks over to the man standing, one hand holding two water bottles, the other hand in his jeans pocket, t-shirt just tight enough to allow Jimin’s imagination to fill in the details of his chest and abs, permed hair still up in a half-ponytail, loose hairs framing his face beautifully. He’s so beautiful.

Jimin confidently strides towards the fae and watches as the barest flicker of confusion crosses the other’s face before he retrains the neutral gaze on Jimin. Without another thought he steps right into Yoongi’s space, chest to chest, gripping his shoulders, and pulls him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

For a moment, Yoongi is too stunned to respond, but soon he gives in to Jimin’s kiss. It’s hot and needy, the kind of kiss that tells Jimin Yoongi wants this as much as Jimin does. Jimin feels his heart pound faster as Yoongi leans into him, and he can practically feel the heat radiating off of the other man’s body. Jimin’s own impulsiveness terrifies him, but not enough to stop.

When they finally break apart, Jimin looks up at Yoongi looking for signs of regret or anger, but sees none. He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the fae’s, savoring the feeling of closeness, with their hot, panting breaths intermingling.

Then, without speaking, Jimin leans in again for another kiss. It’s rough and demanding, all tongue and teeth as they claim each other’s mouth. Jimin moans into the kiss, his entire body melting against Yoongi’s. As they kiss, Jimin can feel one of Yoongi’s hands slowly inching up his shirt, teasing the skin underneath, pressing around his waist. He gasps at the touch, his skin erupting into goosebumps, craving more. Their kisses become more feverish, more passionate, until Jimin feels like he can hardly breathe. All he can feel is heat and fire.

They pull apart once more to catch their breaths, they lean into one another, still panting. Hands still gripping at one another, the water bottles Yoongi had been holding forgotten at their feet.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, hot breath rustling in Jimin’s ear.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Jimin asks coyly through his panting, “Why are you watching me, Min Yoongi-ssi?”

“You’re wearing my jacket, Park Jimin-ssi,” the fae responds without missing a beat. He gives out a short, labored laugh. “With my phone. In the pocket. I couldn’t call a cab.”

As if to prove his point, Yoongi slowly moves his hand out from under Jimin’s shirt and reaches into the jacket pocket, pulling out a silver phone. He waves it in between their chests before sliding it into his own jeans’ back pocket.

Jimin, still breathing heavily, huffs out a long laugh. Then his smile drops and he leans further into Yoongi’s ear, his fingers digging into Yoongi’s shoulders, and says softly, “Use that phone, hyung, and take me home.”

~

Yoongi is pretty sure the higher functioning parts of his brain shut off minutes ago when Park Jimin started kissing him. Now all he seems capable of is feeling the burning on his skin as one of Jimin’s hands trails up from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling with his nearly-shoulder-length hair there. Every hot spot along his body igniting where Jimin is pinning him against the wall, panting into his ear, his wet, hot breath sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind there is a niggling sensation of something forgotten, but Yoongi could not care less. That is, until he realizes Jimin has his eyes trained on him, waiting for a response to something. Did Jimin ask him a question?

Yoongi’s eyes move slowly from Jimin’s kiss-swollen lips to his eyes. Jimin raises his eyebrows expectantly. Yoongi manages to breathe out a quiet, “Oh.”

Then he ducks down and grabs the water bottles from the floor. He opens one and hands it to Jimin, who takes it with a confused look on his face. Then he opens the second one and chugs it in one go. Glancing at Jimin, he sees the younger man watching him drink. Then Jimin takes a tentative sip of his own water.

When Yoongi is done with his water, he pulls out his phone and opens the taxi app, ordering a taxi for a few blocks away.

“Drink up,” Yoongi says, gesturing at Jimin’s water bottle, before slipping his phone back into his back pocket. “Cab’ll be here in 10 minutes.”

Jimin gives a small nod and it’s Yoongi’s turn to watch as the other drinks down the water in huge gulps. Once Jimin finishes, Yoongi takes the bottle from him and grabs Jimin’s hand with his free one. Pulling him along, around the edge of the dance floor, he only pauses once to throw the empty bottles in his left hand into the large bin.

The air is cool as they step through the warehouse door into the night. Yoongi leads them to a small alleyway, away from the noise and lights of the party. Jimin follows obediently, fingers laced tightly with the fae’s. It’s quiet here, only the occasional siren can be heard in the distance. Through the alley, they step onto another block, still within industrial buildings, but the street is better lit.

They come to a stop at a street corner, where Yoongi had told the taxi to pick them up. He leans in and presses his lips lightly to Jimin’s temple.

“Are you cold?” he asks quietly.

Jimin shakes his head, but leans into Yoongi a little further, and Yoongi takes that as an invitation to wrap an arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him close to his side.

“Is this okay?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi blows out a puff of air before he says, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?”

Jimin laughs, the sound ringing out through the still night air.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like that before,” he admits, his cheeks flaming. Yoongi feels like his insides are melting.

Instead of screaming like he wants to, Yoongi smiles, his fingers digging a bit into the soft part of Jimin’s waist where his hand is resting under the leather jacket.

“Likewise,” Yoongi says softly, before leaning in again to kiss Jimin once more.

They stand there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms and lips, until the sound of a car approaching breaks them apart. Yoongi pulls away, his hand reluctantly slipping from Jimin’s waist.

Yoongi steps up to the backdoor of the cab and pauses before he opens it. He turns to Jimin and asks, “Just for the sake of clear communication, when you asked me to take you home, did you mean for me to be a perfect gentleman and drop you off at your home? Or did you mean for me to be less-than-gentlemanly and bring you to my home?”

Jimin blinks at him and then bites his lower lip.

“And to be clear,” Yoongi says before Jimin can respond. “I am very in favor of option two. But can concede you’ve had a rough night and might just want to be alone in your own place.”

Time feels like it slows down as Yoongi watches Jimin’s face transform from a nervous pout to hold a full, toothy smile, eyes pressing into crescents. He didn’t think this plane of existence could contain a being so beautiful. Jimin reaches out and threads his fingers with Yoongi’s and says simply, “I don’t want you to be a gentleman.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the words, while Jimin takes a step back, allowing Yoongi to open the cab door. Jimin brushes past him, sliding onto the leather seat, keeping their fingers tangled together, gently pulling Yoongi to follow him into the backseat of the cab.

As soon as Yoongi gives his address to the driver, he half-expects Jimin to be all over him. Instead, Jimin shifts slightly and tilts his head to rest it on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi feels a warmth spread through his chest as he glances down at Jimin, who is looking out his window at the city lights as they drive. The only sound in the car is the slight hum of the tires on the asphalt and Jimin’s breathing beside him. Yoongi finds himself looking over at his companion’s profile, admiring it from his peripheral vision. Looking back out the window of the car, Yoongi can detect the faint greys of pre-dawn light filtering over the city.

~

Jimin feels his apprehension grow as the car ride continues across the city. When the bigger skyscrapers and city buildings are in the rearview, he starts to wonder where exactly they are going. He regrets not paying more attention to the address Yoongi had given the driver. Was he about to be ax-murdered on the outskirts of Seoul? He realizes ever since showing up to the Friends Only, he’s been entirely too reckless. This might be coming back to bite him in the ass now.

The car slows as it pulls off a main thoroughfare into a winding cobblestone road meandering among older homes nestled into a hillside at the base of one of Seoul’s many mountains. The fading city lights give way to the twinkling stars as Jimin takes in the beauty around him. The early morning sky is a deep navy blue, the stars are pinpricks in the darkness, and the moon is a coy smile of white light.

Just as he’s about to ask where they are going, the car comes to a stop at the corner of a cluster of older homes. It’s a nice neighborhood. Quiet and tucked away.

After thanking the driver, Yoongi, who Jimin realizes is still holding his hand on his thigh, opens his door and pulls Jimin along behind him as he exits. He waits as Jimin unfolds himself through the door, before shutting the cab door behind him. Then without a word, he pulls Jimin along the small street towards more houses.

“Wait here first,” Yoongi whispers. He puts his free hand on Jimin’s shoulder and turns him gently, positioning him so he’s looking down the hill back towards the city.

The view is gorgeous, of course, but he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be seeing something in particular. So, he waits. His back is almost touching Yoongi’s back and he’s tempted to lean himself backwards into the fae. Instead he focuses on the feeling of heat filling the gap between their bodies and the warmth where their hands are still entwined, where Yoongi’s hand never left his shoulder.

Then, Jimin sees what they have been waiting for. As Jimin’s eyes are trained on the horizon, he catches a subtle change in the sky. He gasps softly as the hint of orange and pink paint the sky with delicate brushstrokes, illuminating the darkness. The hues blend together to create an otherworldly skyline, as if he is staring at a painting instead of a real view. He thinks Seoul has never looked more beautiful.

Yoongi leans forward into Jimin’s back, hooking his chin over Jimin’s shoulder, his hand still wrapped around Jimin’s. Both men stand in silence until it’s impossible to ignore the beauty of what they are witnessing—the sun’s rays slice through the darkness like a curtain of gold and silver being pulled aside to reveal a beautiful new day. The sky gradually lightens from deep colors to pastels.

With one last squeeze, Yoongi takes his hand from Jimin’s shoulder and pulls him towards the tall stone wall surrounding a house behind them.

If someone had asked Jimin yesterday what he thought Agust D’s dwelling place looks like, he would probably have said an upscale, modern apartment—maybe in Hannam the Hill or somewhere equally swanky. Definitely something Jimin would never dream of being able to afford on his measly dance choreographer’s salary.

Needless to say, the hanok in front of him, only visible once Yoongi pushes a metal door in a stone wall back, is not at all what he pictured. The outside of the building, while clearly clean and well kept, makes him feel like he’s been transported back in time. To get to the hanok, they first step through a traditional wooden moon gate, just inside the metal doorway. They are greeted by the sight of a stunning madang, a courtyard bordered by the wooden framework of the main house, which stands as a protective guardian of this sacred space.

Jimin takes in the scene with wide eyes, struck by an immense sense of calm that he hadn’t expected. He feels Yoongi’s presence behind him and for a moment, the two stand in complete stillness.

The surface underfoot is composed of carefully laid stone tiles, creating a smooth and even pathway leading from the moon gate to the heart of the madang. Along the edges of the path, patches of soft green moss, almost glowing in the dawn light, create a harmonious contrast against the sturdy stone. At the center of the madang is a small pond with a small leafless tree bending gracefully over the water. There is a fountain bubbling quietly, creating a tranquil atmosphere in the whole courtyard.

As they slowly walk further into the courtyard, Jimin trails his eyes across the potted plants and delicate stonework up to the hanok buildings. The house itself is a clean light grey—almost white—with dark hefty timber beams as the frame. The gently sloping roof is made of dark grey tiles, accentuated by the same dark wooden beams at the eaves.

Yoongi leads Jimin down the pathway to a door to the left of the hanok. He slides it open and they toe their shoes off at the step. The doorway leads them into an updated kitchen area. The kitchen is modern enough, with an island and state-of-the-art appliances, but still possesses touches of history, like the wooden beams supporting the ceiling.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Yoongi asks, going towards what looks like a mini-fridge built under the island counter.

“Holy shit, hyung,” Jimin finally manages to get out. “Does having a magic fairytale hanok come with being a fae?”

Yoongi barks out a laugh as he pulls out glass bottles of sparkling water from the fridge.

“I’m serious!” Jimin pouts. “I figured you probably had money, but what the fuck?”

Yoongi shrugs with a lop-sided smile, handing Jimin one of the bottles of water, and says, “What can I say? I like beautiful things?”

Jimin nods, taking a sip of his water, nose wrinkling at the bubbles. He says, “It is beautiful. Definitely beats my little studio apartment.”

For a few minutes, they fall into a silence, drinking their water. Jimin plays mindlessly with the paper label on his bottle. His eyes dart up to look at Yoongi’s face and he’s startled to see the fae is already looking at him. Jimin swallows and feels his face heating as the look Yoongi gives him sets him on fire.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Yoongi takes a step closer. His eyes don’t leave Jimin’s for a moment. Jimin’s heart races and he feels a shiver run down his spine at the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze. They move closer to each other, until they’re standing just a breath apart. Jimin is so tense with anticipation, he thinks he’s going to rip apart. His eyes focus on Yoongi’s lips and it takes him a moment to realize the fae is asking him a question.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin blinks, then wrenches his eyes away from Yoongi’s lips to his eyes. “Show me the bedroom?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch into a small smile, as if he’s amused by Jimin’s straightforwardness. The next thing Jimin knows, his hand is engulfed by Yoongi’s and he’s being pulled down the open walkway of the hanok that connects each of the rooms until they come to another sliding door.

Yoongi doesn’t waste time opening it and pulling Jimin inside. The natural light, still dim with sunrise, filters through white billowy curtains allowing Jimin to see that the bedroom is just as stunning as the rest of the hanok. In the center of the room, against the back wall, is a raised platform holding a luxurious looking yo mattress. On either side of it are delicate wooden bedside tables with sleek lamps. Everything is creams and greys and accented with dark wood.

Yoongi closes the door and steps towards Jimin until they’re standing a breath apart. Jimin can feel the warmth radiating from Yoongi’s body and he swallows, trying to fight against the urge to close the distance between them. He thinks he might want to just drown himself in Yoongi. Why is he resisting? He doesn’t quite remember.

“Is this okay?” Yoongi asks as he reaches out a hand to cup Jimin’s face.

Jimin hums and nods faintly, leaning into Yoongi’s palm. He closes his eyes and just feels everything. His skin is on fire. Everywhere. He’s in flames. He holds onto some kind of restraint for only a moment longer and then he lets himself fall.

*~*

Yoongi feels Jimin’s lips on his before he even realizes what’s happening. He forgets everything except the way Jimin’s hands feel in his hair, the way their mouths fit together. He gasps into Jimin’s mouth, deepening the kiss, and pulls him closer until there’s no space left between them. Jimin moans softly as he melts into Yoongi, his hands sliding down from Yoongi’s hair to grip onto his hips. Yoongi’s body is on fire and all he wants is more, more, more.

They pull away from each other only for a moment, long enough for Jimin to shrug himself out of Yoongi’s leather jacket. It hits the floor with a soft ‘thunk,’ making Yoongi realize how quiet the room is. He thinks maybe they should stop, should slow down. However, Jimin doesn’t seem to have such reservations, leaning right back into the fae’s space as soon as the jacket is off.

“Hyung,” Jimin whispers into Yoongi’s ear.

Yoongi hums, not wanting to stop as he kisses across Jimin’s cheek down to his jawline.

“I need you closer.”

Yoongi feels his breath hitch as Jimin takes his turn and trails hot, wet kisses down the column of Yoongi’s neck. Almost without thought, Yoongi’s hands are sliding up under Jimin’s shirt, pressing into the soft skin of his torso. Then Jimin is pushing or pulling—Yoongi can’t tell—him back towards the bed, never breaking their kiss until they’re both tumbling down onto the luxurious mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Yoongi is pushed onto his back and Jimin straddles him, rocking his hips just enough to have Yoongi gasping and cursing under his breath. Yoongi’s hands grab at the hem of Jimin’s shirt, pushing up until he’s revealing more and more honey colored skin, then sitting up to reach Jimin’s shoulders, and then Jimin is helping him get it over his head. Without pause, Jimin is pulling Yoongi’s tee off before Yoongi falls back into the mattress again with a groan. Jimin follows him down until he’s pressed against him, chest to chest, kissing Yoongi’s face, neck, collarbones.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out, “Fuck.”

Then Jimin is back with his lips on Yoongi’s. He’s moving slower now, less fiery desperation, more savoring each touch that adds to the arousal pooling in Yoongi’s gut and threatening to explode out of every cell in his body. Jimin is toying with him, edging him with slow rocks of his hips, the fabric of their pants almost painful between them. Yoongi thinks he’s going to combust.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says again between kisses.

Jimin hums in question, but doesn’t stop kissing another trail down Yoongi’s neck. He stops occasionally to nip at the sensitive skin or run his tongue over a spot. Yoongi isn’t sure when, but at some point his eyes shut and all his senses dedicate themselves to feeling the fire burning every place Jimin touches.

Then Jimin’s hips are still, but his hands are everywhere moving up and down Yoongi’s torso reverently, as if he’s touching something precious. Each caress is tantalizing yet gentle, as if Jimin is trying to commit the feel of Yoongi’s body to memory.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face and pulls him in for the most tender kiss they’ve shared so far. When he finally pulls away just enough that their breaths linger together in reverie.

“Tell me you want this,” Jimin whispers.

Yoongi is pretty sure the air has been sucked out of the room, but he manages to whisper back, “I want this.”

Jimin smiles against his lips as he ducks in for another kiss. Then he pulls back a fraction, watching Yoongi’s face and running a hand through Yoongi’s hair.

“Tell me you want me ,” Yoongi whispers, his lungs feeling constricted. He does not know where this vulnerability and insecurity is coming from, but he can’t stop it spilling out of him.

Jimin pulls back far enough to look into Yoongi’s eyes and says with a soft smile, “I want you , hyung.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says into a long exhale, the tightness in his chest reigniting the fire the tenderness had dampened.

“Tell me you want me, hyung,” Jimin echoes. “Without magic or spells.”

Yoongi’s hands tighten on Jimin’s hips where they had been resting. “I want you, Jimin-ah. I promise I will never use magic without your consent. I promise I can make you feel so good, you’ll never want another partner without a single symbol or spell.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to let out a long exhale and sigh, “Oh.”

Jimin pulls back just enough for Yoongi to get a good look at his face and the fire in his eyes. His lips are parted slightly, breathing shallowly as he focuses on undoing Yoongi’s pants, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

Yoongi trails his fingers down Jimin’s arms, admiring the flex of his biceps as he works Yoongi’s pants’ zipper down. Then, Jimin is scooting back and pushing the fabric away and off Yoongi’s hips with a gentle pull and a whisper of noise that might be appreciation or something else altogether.

Yoongi reaches up to cup Jimin’s face in both hands again and pulls him into another kiss. This one is slow and deep like they have all the time in the world, exploring each other with their tongues.

Jimin hums softly into Yoongi’s mouth before breaking away for a few seconds to whisper against his lips, “Hyung,” then sinking back into another kiss until their noses brush gently against each other when they part again.

Then Yoongi reaches for Jimin’s pants and helps him rid himself of them, the tight pants taking a bit of work to get off. They giggle at a first failed attempt before they finally join the floor with the rest of the forgotten clothes.

Once they are both naked, Yoongi pushes Jimin back into the mattress and takes a moment to appreciate the man in front of him. Then he trails kisses down Jimin’s neck and chest continuing lower still until he reaches Jimin’s waist. He pauses only for a moment before continuing to work his skin with his lips, tongue, and teeth, paying special attention to his hip bones before moving down to Jimin’s inner thighs. As soon as Yoongi’s hot breath ghosts across the sensitive skin of Jimin’s cock, Jimin bucks up with a gasp at the contact, arching his back in response while Yoongi moves even lower and starts tracing circles around the base of Jimin’s shaft with his tongue already swollen with its own want for attention.

Jimin lets out a low moan as Yoongi sucks gently on the tip, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through him from head to toe. Jimin’s hips buck involuntarily as he tangles one hand in Yoongi’s hair while running circles on pale skin with the other as Yoongi continues to work him slowly and deliberately.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses as Yoongi starts bobbing up and down on him.

“Fuck... hyung,” Jimin says again, voice cracking as Yoongi twists his way up the length and then back down with a wet sound. Jimin’s hips jerk and he groans. Yoongi’s tongue moves all around him as he sucks down Jimin’s entire length. Jimin groans, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“Hyung,” Jimin gasps, voice strained, as Yoongi sinks back down and starts bobbing up and down faster.

Jimin’s body shakes with pleasure as Yoongi tightens his grip on Jimin’s waist, bringing him in deeper. A moment later, he comes with a muffled cry into the sheets, covering Yoongi’s hand where it’s wrapped around him, pressed into the aftershocks of orgasm.

Yoongi slowly pulls himself up and collapses onto the bed beside Jimin. He drapes an arm over Jimin, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead tenderly. Jimin smiles blissfully before turning onto his side to face Yoongi.

Yoongi kisses Jimin softly on the lips before placing a slow gentle kiss just below his ear. His lips move down to Jimin’s neck and chest as his hands start tracing gentle circles along Jimin’s skin. Jimin melts into Yoongi’s touch, breathing heavily against him as Yoongi continues exploring every inch of him with both hands and lips, memorizing every curve and dip of skin.

When Yoongi feels Jimin’s skin begin to prickle in goosebumps against his touch he deepens the contact, twining one hand with Jimin’s and pulling their bodies together, very slowly, as their arousal begins to reignite. Jimin breathes out a whimper of sound and presses himself closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck and shoulder.

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes out in what almost sounds like a whine.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums, now kissing along Jimin’s collar bone.

“Please,” Jimin actually whines this time. “Hyung-”

Yoongi kisses Jimin’s mouth fully, breath mingling between them because really all he can think about is getting back inside of Jimin as soon as possible. But then he pulls away, slowly trailing kisses across Jimin’s cheek until he reaches his ear.

Yoongi kisses him one last time before pulling back again, taking a moment to reach over for the lube and condoms tucked into the nearest nightstand. He drops the condom on the mattress and snaps open the lube. He looks to Jimin’s face, waits until Jimin’s eager nods give him the signal to keep going.

Yoongi slicks up his fingers and reaches for Jimin, pressing in just barely. He pauses a moment, gazing down at Jimin to see if he’s still okay. Jimin simply nods but it becomes clear that he needs more as his hips begin to shift impatiently against the mattress. Yoongi presses in farther and Jimin gasps at the intrusion. Yoongi moves his other hand down to rest on Jimin’s hip, giving him something to hold onto while he eases his finger in slowly.

Jimin lets out a half-strangled moan as Yoongi presses his lips against Jimin’s. His tongue forages for the delicate sweet spots of Jimin’s mouth, sending sparks of pleasure running through his veins. Yoongi moves his hands over every inch of Jimin’s body, slowly readying him as their kiss deepens with each wave of passion cascading between them.

“Now, hyung,” Jimin croaks desperately. “I need you now.”

Then, in the blink of an eye, Jimin is grabbing the condom, ripping it open, and rolling it down Yoongi’s length. He pulls Yoongi down on top of him, as Yoongi works some extra lube on himself.

Jimin rocks his hips forward, pressing himself against Yoongi’s tip. Then, he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s back and pulls him in closer as he eases Yoongi in inch by perfect inch. They both let out loud moans at the contact, surrounded by the noises of pleasure of their contact.

Yoongi stays still for a few moments afraid he’s not going to last another moment like this. Everything is so hot. He slowly starts to move against Jimin with a delicate rocking of his hips. They’re moving together now, limbs entwined groins pressed together as he thrusts into Jimin over and over.

Jimin groans deep in his throat as Yoongi slides into him again and again, faster now as they move against each other in sync. Jimin plants his feet firmly on the mattress and stretches up to brace his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. Allowing him to pull Yoongi even farther in until Yoongi is buried all the way inside in one complete fluid motion.

Jimin’s walls clamp around Yoongi in a tight constricting fit. He grunts and fucks Jimin hard, trying his best to make the other man see stars. Then he leans down and finds Jimin’s mouth, lips crashing together as they continue to move together in a frenzy of lust and passion.

Yoongi swallows down Jimin’s groans as he lifts his hips into each thrust. In another minute, Jimin arches beneath him as he comes again with a shudder, moaning out Yoongi’s name as he comes. Yoongi keeps moving until he reaches his own peak, coming undone at the seams as he fills the condom deep inside Jimin’s body.

The two of them collapse together on the bed breathing heavily. Before Yoongi lets himself drift off to sleep, he gets himself up to the bathroom to wash up and bring a wet cloth back to Jimin to tidy him up as well. By the time Yoongi is finished Jimin has started to drift off to sleep, so works quickly to clean everything up. He throws the cloth to the side and he climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers around them both and nuzzles against Jimin’s hair, inhaling deeply, and tangling his limbs around Jimin.

His mind drifts as he watches the white curtains flutter in the breeze through the bedroom window. He will never understand the fae who choose to stay in The Dreaming over here. Humans feel and love so intensely. Without these momentous moments, the vividness of human life, how can anyone appreciate the mundane? Yoongi can never imagine having anything but this, living any way but this, loving any way but this. And that is how he drifts off to sleep as the morning songbirds finish up their calls and day truly starts over Seoul.

*~*

Jimin opens his eyes to the sound of low-toned chimes. He is alone on the yo mattress, but he can feel where Yoongi had been lying next to him. The space is still warm, and when Jimin presses his fingers into it, he can even feel Yoongi’s lingering body heat. He slips from the bed and picks up the folded clothes, a simple t-shirt and joggers, that Yoongi had left for him. He slides them over his naked skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. The fabric is soft and smells lightly of citrus, which makes Jimin smile as he heads to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out toward the madang.

Jimin pauses when he sees Yoongi standing at the moon gate with two tall people. Jimin stays back, not wanting to intrude in the tense conversation he can feel emanating from the group. The two people in front of Yoongi are wearing flowy silver robes, their blue hair braided and fastened up in intricate styles. They have sharp features, including long, pointed ears donned with silver rings. Their faces are neutral, but there’s an intense feeling radiating off them that Jimin can’t quite place.

The sight of the courtyard is all rather picturesque with the clearly otherworldly beings standing with Yoongi in front of the moon gate, pond and tree before them, bubbling waters creating a false sense of serenity.

“I really do think it’s in your best interest to accept our invitation, cousin,” one of the blue-haired people said.

“And I told you to fuck off,” growls Yoongi. “I am not accepting your invitation now, nor will I be accepting any in the future.”

Jimin thinks he should duck back inside and not eavesdrop on this conversation anymore, but is distracted then by the tinkling of a little bell. He looks down to see a small black cat rubbing along his shin and then winding around his legs.

“Oh, hello, pretty,” Jimin says brightly. “Where did you come from?”

“I said fucking leave and take that with you,” Yoongi says pointing straight at Jimin.

Jimin’s eyes go round and he feels a pang of fear at Yoongi’s harsh tone. Before he can fully process what’s happening, Yoongi is striding across the madang towards him.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says, his tone surprisingly sweet considering the look of irritation on his face. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and I’ll be there in a moment? I just need to kick out these unwanted house guests.”

Jimin nods dumbly and watches as Yoongi kicks towards the cat, who hisses and runs towards the two people still standing at the moon gate. The cat sits next to their feet, eyes narrowing at Yoongi.

“I do hope you take time to reconsider, cousin,” one of the people says. “You cannot simply run away from your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Yoongi says confidently. “I hope the door hits you on the way out.”

Then he whirls around to take Jimin’s hand and lead him towards the door to the kitchen. Once seated on a wooden barstool, Jimin watches as Yoongi pulls out a number of containers from the refrigerator. Then he watches as the fae begins to heat various dishes up and starts to set a variety of options out along the bar counter. Jimin waits patiently until he is done serving breakfast—or lunch, really, since it’s already afternoon— and they are well into tucking into their food to ask any of the burning questions on his mind.

“Who were those people? Fae?”

“They,” Yoongi says and waves his hand holding his chopsticks vaguely in front of himself as if trying to shoo away an annoying bug, “are the Sidhe. So, yes, they are fae. And fucking the worst kind, too.”

“And you were fighting with them?”

Yoongi coughs. “I wouldn’t say– no, not fighting exactly? More like strongly disagreeing with them? There has been a push to have me back at Court and I have zero intention of leaving this plane, maybe ever, so…they can keep pining away for me, I guess.”

Jimin picks at some of his kimchi, brow wrinkled in thought. After a moment, he asks, “Why don’t you think you’ll leave here?”

“The Dreaming,” Yoongi sighs, but a faint smile pulls at his lips, “is a very beautiful place. But it’s almost too beautiful. The Dreaming is dull. Lifeless. It’s like nothing ever happens there. Emotions, feelings, sensations are just so much more intense here in The Crossing, and the fae can experience that, but only here.”

Jimin sits with his mouth hanging open slightly as he processes this new information. He’s annoyed at himself for not paying attention more to all things related to fae. He doesn’t exactly want to give away how much he doesn’t know.

“They called you cousin,” Jimin finally says, hoping for a safe topic that doesn’t belie too much of his ignorance.

“Ah,” Yoongi says, nodding and swallowing down a spoonful of rice. “They call every other fae cousin, really. But in my case it’s actually true, since I’m half Sidhe.”

Jimin’s brow wrinkles further as he’s suddenly reminded of a forgotten school lesson. “I didn’t think Sidhe mingled outside of their own. In fact, I didn’t even know they came to this plane.”

“Well, my parents seem to be the exception that proves the rule, with my mother straying into a human’s bed,” Yoongi says with a twist of his lips. Jimin can’t tell if he’s displeased or amused. Maybe both. “But you’re right. Sidhe mostly only travel to The Crossing to retrieve fae and issue invitations to Court.”

“Oh,” Jimin says. “So, that’s what they were talking about? You being invited to Court? Like some kind of official summons?”

Yoongi laughs and gives Jimin an almost fond smile, and then leans forward, bringing a hand to his mouth, like he’s sharing a secret. “Doesn’t really matter. I’ve no intention of going. I like it here.”

Jimin feels his heart clench. He’s overcome with a desire to make sure he does what he can to stay in Yoongi’s orbit. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. Yesterday, he was sure all fae were duplicitous, manipulative assholes. Today he’s entertaining thoughts of having the fae before him be something more than a one night stand.

Yoongi’s phone vibrates from the counter, where he apparently left it. He gets up to check, brow furrowed as he scrolls through what Jimin imagines to be many messages.

That reminds Jimin to check his own phone, shut off the night before. His friends are probably worried after his sudden departure last night. He feels a stab in his gut when he remembers why he left suddenly last night. In the light of day, in this beautiful hanok, in front of a fae that has done nothing but be honest and kind to him, Jimin feels a small pang of guilt for his reaction. Still, they should have told him from the beginning.

Still, Jimin decides to go find his phone and check his messages. Back in the bedroom, he sits on the edge of the mattress while his phone boots up. He waits for the messages to come. But there is only one. There is tightness in his chest, as he waits, hoping maybe he just didn’t have enough signal or something.

He feels sadness cascade over him as he clicks into the only message—from Jungkook—that simply reads, “I’m sorry hyung.” His finger hovers over the call button, but then he decides to wait. He’d call later, when he’s had more time to think.

“Shall I take you home?” Yoongi says. He’s standing in the open doorway, leaning on the frame. He’s a vision in the afternoon sunlight, all soft in cozy grey clothes, the green of the courtyard behind him.

Jimin takes a deep breath and buries the sadness, anger, and guilt to be unpacked and dealt with later. He pastes a cheeky smile on his face and says, “Only if I can get your number first, hyung.”

~

Yoongi wasn’t sure Jimin was actually going to text him back. Not after the absolute shitshow that was the Friends Only and then whatever it is they are calling his spending the night. No, he absolutely never expects to hear from the man again. And yet. And yet, Yoongi finds he cannot stop thinking about him.

If he didn’t know better, he might start worrying the man had spelled him in some way. If anything, he is starting to understand why all of his friends have been so protective of him. There’s some kind of magnetism to Park Jimin.

Yoongi isn’t even thinking about the sex—well, not thinking exclusively about the sex, maybe—but rather catches himself wondering what Jimin might be doing at any particular moment. While Yoongi is picking up lunch for Namjoon and himself, he wonders if Jimin is eating now, too. While Yoongi is washing his face and brushing his teeth before bed, he wonders if Jimin is already asleep. Stupid, cheesy shit like that that Yoongi would never admit to in a million years out loud.

That’s why, after a full week passes, when Yoongi was working late in his studio, he ignores the buzzing of his phone. This track is almost done, he’s just looking for the perfect sound to complete the texture he’s going for. He’s proud of himself, really, he’s gone almost a half day without thinking about Jimin—does thinking about not thinking about Jimin count as thinking about Jimin or—, hyperfocusing on this track instead. Sometimes he thanks the goddesses he was blessed with very human ADHD.

With a feeling of victory blooming in his chest, he finds the right gong sound he needs and slots it into the track. He plays the whole thing back with a faint smile on his face. Perfect. He can tell this is going to be a hit. Yoongi saves the file, renders it down to a wav file, and emails it to Namjoon and the other PD on the team. Then he pushes himself back from the desk, chair gliding smoothly across the wood floor of his studio. He leans back and stares up at the ceiling for a while before he starts to wonder what time it is.

Yoongi grabs his phone off his desk with a flourish, twirling his desk chair around in a circle. As he’s spinning, his phone lights up. 2:00am. Not bad. He definitely thought it was way later. Cool. Then he slams his feet into the ground, coming to a complete halt, as he taps on the text message notification and sees the sender is Jimin.

“Can we meet,” is all the message says. Yoongi feels a little coil of anxiety in his gut.

He texts back immediately a “sure thing, when is good” and stares at his own words in embarrassment debating whether he should be allowed access to any communication devices.

“Why are you awake?” comes the next text from Jimin.

Yoongi bites back a smile. He shoots back, “Why are YOU awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” Jimin sends back.

“Just finished work,” Yoongi replies.

“Hyung...it’s a Saturday-no, now it’s a Sunday morning,” Jimin writes.

Yoongi chuckles. “Gotta work when inspiration strikes.”

“So, can we meet?” Jimin writes after a few moments.

Yoongi chews on his bottom lip. He eyes the time, calculates how quickly he can get home and sleep, before writing back, “Sure, Bubbles and Brew 11am?”

“K,” is all Jimin responds with.

Yoongi debates the entire time he's packing up whether to write a good night message, but decides against it by the time he's flicking off his studio's lights. No need to make things weird. More weird, whatever.

~

Jimin almost bails on the whole “meet Yoongi and see about maybe seeing him again” plan four separate times before he finds himself standing in front of Bubbles and Brew a good fifteen minutes early. He hesitates outside the door, feeling his heart race in his chest. This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself. He’s already mad at the five apparent-fae in his life, he shouldn’t be inviting another in. And yet, here he is, sliding into a booth towards the back of the café, and pretending to read through the extensive menu.

“Hey there,” comes a deep, gravely voice and soft rustle of fabric as Yoongi settles into the booth across from Jimin.

The first thing Jimin thinks is “soft.” Yoongi’s hair is clearly freshly washed and dried, but then unstyled. He’s makeup free and wearing could only be described as one step above pajamas, but perhaps not actually meant to leave the house in, dark sweats and well-worn Epik High hoodie. Jimin is overwhelmed with the desire to fold himself into all that softness and maybe never leave.

Instead of launching himself into the fae, he manages to croak out a “hey” instead. Very smooth.

Thankfully a waitress comes by and takes their drink orders before the awkward stretches on for too long. But she’s gone all too quickly and Jimin is left tracing his eyes along the knots in the wood of the tabletop.

“You needed to see me?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin glances up and Yoongi is eyeing him curiously. He clears his throat and answers, “Yeah, I mean. Need might be too strong of a word. I wanted– no, yeah, yeah– I wanted to see you.”

Jimin can feel the unforgiving red blush burn across his face all the way up to his ears. Yeah, this is going incredibly well. He watches Yoongi’s face like watching a trainwreck. He can’t look away even though he knows this is all going to end in disaster. However, Yoongi surprises him. He smiles, one corner of his mouth quirking up higher than the other.

“I wanted to see you too,” he says softly, but confidently. Jimin’s heart skips a beat at the words, the warmth in Yoongi’s eyes sending a thrill through him.

The silence stretches between them as the waitress brings their drinks, an iced coffee for Yoongi and a strawberry bubble tea for Jimin. She sets them down and disappears without comment. The conversation starts off with Yoongi asking about Jimin’s work as a choreographer. Jimin, always eager to talk about his passion, explains the details of what he’s working on. He talks about the different movements he has and how they tell a story, getting more animated as he continues.

Jimin feels a warmth in his chest at the way Yoongi seems entranced by his words as if he’s never heard someone talk about dancing with such enthusiasm and admiration before.

Jimin then steers the conversation towards Yoongi and his new song he’s working on. He asks all kinds of questions leading Yoongi to open up about his process and what kind of music he likes to create.

Before either of them know it, two hours have gone by in what feels like no time at all. Jimin can’t believe how easily the conversation has been flowing between them. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to be so talkative and honest, or that they would have this much in common. He starts to think that maybe he’d been wrong about fae all along.

Maybe, just maybe, Jimin concedes that he's let a few bad fae influence his judgment of the whole. Yoongi has been nothing but kind, open, funny, protective. If anything, he reminds Jimin of his friends, who, turns out, are also fae—that thought has his stomach dropping. Jimin starts to think maybe he's the one that is going to need to apologize. Of course, there's the matter of them having lied to him. Perhaps lied by omission, but still lied. Maybe he's still a little angry and a lot hurt.

As the conversation dies down and their drinks are empty, Jimin can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment that it’s over.

“Can we do this again?” Jimin asks as they wave the waitress over to pay for their drinks.

Yoongi, busy using his phone to pay,—“hyung pays, don’t argue, Jimin-ah”—hums in agreement. Once the waitress has cleared their empty cups away and wished them a good rest of their day, Yoongi says with a blush to his cheeks but no hesitation in his voice, “How about dinner? Sometime this week?”

And, as if by magic, but not the bad kind, Jimin is sure, that is how Park Jimin, human, and Min Yoongi, fae, start dating. Or, at the very least, start meeting regularly for coffee and meals and blush-filled chats.

~

They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months. No labels yet. Mostly they are just talking and sharing stories, listening to music and watching movies, doing a little bit of kissing. Okay, maybe a lot of kissing and occasionally a lot more than kissing. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever felt lighter. He might even have the clichéd spring in his step—nauseating.

He still has worries, like getting this album finished for the latest idol group debuting in a few weeks or how Jimin still hasn’t really talked to his friends. If he’s honest, both are keeping him up at night at this point.

Yoongi sees the impact of Jimin’s prolonged silence on the other fae. Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook are especially despondent. However, none of them seem to want to make the first move. Hoseok keeps saying “Jimin needs his space” and Yoongi is about ready to lock them all in a room until they talk it out. Yoongi isn’t a meddler. He hates meddlers. But everyone is hurting and it’s stupid.

That’s why, when he gets the anonymous text message about another Friends Only, he lights up in excitement. Jimin, given the horrendous events of the last Friends Only, might be harder to convince to attend, but it’s the perfect place for everyone to meet up and hash things out once and for all.

As luck would have it, Yoongi is already picking up Jimin for lunch. He nervously twiddles with his phone as he sits in the driver’s seat of his car out front of the younger’s dance studio, waiting for him to come out. Yoongi knows he has to approach this conversation tactfully. Yes, tactfully.

He pulls out the small jewelry box from the glovebox and pops the lid open. A thin silver chain necklace with a pendant shaped like a graceful dragon made of interwoven lines whose body wound protectively around most of a green jade orb. He fingers at it anxiously, feeling the spells flutter and react to his touch.

Yoongi snaps the box shut as the passenger door opens and Jimin drops into the seat with a tired sigh.

“Long morning?” Yoongi asks.

Jimin stretches his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion. “It was good, but tiring. I’m so sore. What’s that?”

Jimin is eying the jewelry box in Yoongi’s hand.

“Ah– uh, this?” Yoongi stammers. He vaguely recalls about 30 seconds ago he was determined to be tactful.

“Yeah, that. What is it?” Jimin repeats, now pointing with his finger at the box.

Yoongi hands it over with a sheepish smile. “It’s for you.”

Jimin looks at him in surprise before opening the box and gasping. The dark silver dragon glitters in the sun.

“Before you put it on,” Yoongi starts.

Jimin freezes where he sits, hands still pinching at the clasp of the necklace.

“It’s uh– It’s spelled?” Yoongi says, though he sounds so unsure it comes out as a question.

Jimin drops the necklace into his lap. “What do you mean it’s spelled?”

Yoongi flounders, flapping his hands trying to assuage the other and gain back his composure. He’s not sure he’s successful on either count, judging by the angry glint in Jimin’s eyes now.

“I– okay, it’s warded. There are symbols of protection embedded in the chain, the pendant. I just thought,” Yoongi struggles to find the words. He glances at Jimin’s face and instead of seeing anger, all he sees is soft adoration and patience. Okay. “The wards will make it so no one can spell you without your explicit permission. And they cannot take the necklace off. Only you can. That way– that way, you can maybe feel a little bit safer. From us.”

His words trail off and end in an almost-whisper. He keeps his eyes firmly on Jimin’s hands, which are lightly brushing the silver chain of the necklace in his lap.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, running a finger over the jade. He links the necklace around his neck, pulling down the car’s visor and flipping open the mirror, admiring how the pendant looks against the dip between his collarbones.

Yoongi allows himself a small grin. “I’m glad you like it.”

“So,” Jimin says brightly as he pulls on his seatbelt. “Where are we going for lunch?”

~

Jimin can tell Yoongi is nervous. He watches as the older man picks at his noodles with his chopsticks, other hand drumming fingers on the tabletop. He’s like a ball of energy waiting to explode.

“Is something wrong, hyung?” Jimin finally asks. He’d finished his food several minutes ago, but Yoongi, eyes focused on his food, is still just pushing his meal around in his bowl.

The question seems to startle Yoongi. He looks up, surprise on his face, as he takes in the fact that he’s been zoning out and Jimin has already eaten.

“Right, yeah,” Yoongi says. “I’m fine. I did have something I wanted to ask though.”

Jimin feels a bit apprehensive and he plays with the pendant of his new necklace. He knows it’s strange to get such a nice gift, out of the blue, especially when they aren’t really a gift-giving couple. He mind whirls as he tries to guess what’s going on, but nothing he comes up with makes sense.

“I was kind of hoping you might come with me to the Friends Only tonight?” Yoongi finally asks, voice quiet.

“Oh.”

“I know– we didn’t really ever talk about the last one. And it wasn’t great, obviously, what happened. But we met? So, I guess that is good? And I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to see– to go,” Yoongi finishes with a stutter.

Jimin eyes him for a moment, fingers still touching the dragon pendant. “I don’t know, hyung.”

“I– I admit that is maybe why I gave you the necklace,” Yoongi says, waving towards Jimin’s neckline. Jimin immediately drops his hand and pretends like he hasn’t been admiring the jewelry ever since he put it on in the car.

“If you wear that, then you’ll be protected from any fae at the Friend Only. We could just go for a couple hours. Maybe have a drink. I might be persuaded to dance,” Yoongi says. Jimin notices his definite wince when he suggests dancing. A smile erupts unbidden from Jimin’s lips.

“Okay, hyung,” Jimin says, voice teasing. “You win. We’ll go. But you have to do a battle.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, matching Jimin’s smile.

“And dance with me,” Jimin adds.

Yoongi’s smile drops. He sits dejectedly for a minute, clearly pretending to weigh his options, but Jimin knows he’s already got him.

~

Yoongi fusses with the collar of the flannel shirt he decided to wear. He's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, assessing his look. Normally, he wouldn't care this much. But he's nervous. Not date-nervous, but more I've-set-my-friends-up-to-reconcile nervous. He's not stupid enough to think there's no possible way for this plan to backfire. In fact, his brain has been kindly supplying all the gruesome ways this could backfire for the entire afternoon, since dropping Jimin back off at work.

Before he knows it, he's knocking on Jimin's apartment door, shaking out the non-existent wrinkles in his flannel shirt that is hanging open. Quickly, Jimin opens the door, looking stunning in a black leather jacket—Yoongi's leather jacket that never found its way home again, which is perfectly fine, in Yoongi's opinion—and dark jeans.

"Hey," Jimin greets him, his eyes scanning over Yoongi’s outfit. "You look good."

"So do you," Yoongi greets back, and leans in to give Jimin a sweet kiss on the lips. He offers Jimin an elbow. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's," Jimin says, twining his arm with Yoongi's.

They park several blocks away and walk to the warehouse.

The night is cool, but considerably warmer than it had been the last time there was a Friends Only. Jimin automatically wraps himself under Yoongi's arm in a way that leaves Yoongi entirely too pleased. Yoongi's hand finds its way to Jimin's waist underneath the leather jacket. Yoongi feels warm and comfortable. He feels happy, he realizes. This is what happiness feels like.

Jimin is mid-giggle at something Yoongi had said when a tall figure steps out in front of the two of them. Jimin immediately tenses and goes quiet and Yoongi tightens his arm around him protectively.

"Min Yoongi-ssi," the sylph says. He looks much the same as he did at the last Friends Only. The one he was banned from.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. Nor have I given you permission to use my name," Yoongi says coldly. "I am also under the impression you shouldn't be anywhere near Seoul. Or The Crossing, for that matter."

The sylph smirks and laughs. Cocky and stupid, Yoongi thinks. He leans over the both of them as he says, "I don't think the Sidhe's naming conventions apply in The Crossing, Min Yoongi-ssi. My name is Ah Minsu."

There's an awkward silence as Yoongi does not return the greeting.

"I wanted to apologize to you," Minsu continues. He's still looking at Yoongi. In fact, he hasn't looked Jimin's way once. "I didn't realize this little human was yours. I would have never presumed. Of course, humiliating me in front of half the fae in Seoul and getting me banned from the Friends Only, might be a bit too much, don't you think? All over some human?"

Yoongi bristles and he feels Jimin tense ever further into his side.

"I'd suggest you watch your words," Yoongi says tightly, hand unconsciously tightening on Jimin's waist.

Minsu's smile turns into a sneer. "I see. You're still playing at being king, even here in The Crossing. But that's fine, Min Yoongi-ssi. Let's not make this a scene. Enjoy your evening."

The sylph steps back, giving them a mocking bow, before slipping away into the darkness of the alley he had come from. Yoongi and Jimin stand there for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

"I-" Yoongi starts, his mind trying to catch up with what just happened. "We can go. I had no idea he was still here. I thought they'd banished him back to The Dreaming."

"No," Jimin says firmly. "No, I'm not going to let some asshole ruin our night. Let's go."

Yoongi watches Jimin's face and sees nothing but determination there. Still, he asks, "Are you-"

Jimin cuts him off with a glare before he finishes his sentence. Instead, still under Yoongi's arm, he steers them towards the dark, silent warehouse.

In Yoongi's list of "Things that Could Go Catastrophically Wrong with My Meddling," the sylph, Minsu, showing up had not actually made the cut. This is mostly due to Yoongi not having actually checked with Jin or Namjoon to make sure Minsu had been banned not just from the Friends Only, but from the plane entirely. Yoongi is mentally kicking himself for that oversight now.

"Yoongi-chi! Jimin-ah! You're here!" sing-songs a cheerful Jin as the two step into the din of the warehouse. Jin is all smiles and waves his hand off towards the dance floor. "The others are around! They'll be happy to see you."

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but Jin is already off, dipping back into the crowd. Yoongi glances over at Jimin to see the other looking rather shell-shocked. This whole plan was, in fact, an extremely terrible idea.

Yoongi leans into Jimin's ear to ask, "Are you okay? Maybe we should just go?"

Jimin shakes his head. "Let's dance."

Yoongi nods slowly and lets himself be pulled into the mass on the dance floor. The bass is pounding a moderate rhythm and the bodies writhing around him making him feel particularly on edge. But then Jimin's front is pressed up against his and everything else fades away. Rather than dancing, Yoongi feels he's doing everything to keep up with Jimin's movements, trying to match his gyrating hips and fluid body. He's entranced by the way Jimin moves, and how the leather jacket is open to reveal the white tee molded to his body, emphasizing every curve. He can feel the sweat starting to gather on their skin as they dance closer together. Jimin’s eyes are dark, intense, and unbelievably beautiful. Yoongi feels he’s falling into them.

They move together for what feels like hours until Jimin is winding them down and Yoongi is panting from the heat and intensity of it all. As they make their way off the dance floor, they're stopped by Hoseok and Jungkook.

"Hyung," Jungkook says nervously at Jimin. "Are you– Can I-"

Jungkook's forehead is wrinkled with frustration, his face set into a frown. Yoongi feels a bit sorry for him because he can see concern and anxiety in the way that Jungkook has one hand grasped around Hoseok's upper arm. And in fact, both fae look downcast and anxious.

"Hey, how about I go find V or whoever is working sign-ups tonight? You said you wanted me to battle, right?" Yoongi asks Jimin.

Jimin, looking nervous himself, nods gratefully. "Yeah, I'll meet you over there after the battle?"

"V is on duty tonight," Hoseok confirms with a nervous smile.

Yoongi nods and wants to say more to Jimin. He wants to remind Jimin to call if he needs anything. He wants to tell Jimin to stick with Hoseok and Jungkook until the battle. He wants to become the overprotective mother-hen. But he swallows all that down. Instead he says, "See you after the battle."

Jimin gives him a quick squeeze and then Yoongi pulls away and walks off in search of Jimin's soulmate. One glance back gives him a partial view through the crowd of Jimin standing in front of the other two, all three men tense and unsure. Yoongi hopes they work things out.

Yoongi finds V easily enough and is herded quickly to the pit. After arriving late to the party, the battles are just about to start and Yoongi is grateful for getting slotted in anyway.

The competition is more fierce this time. There are some real talents here that Yoongi has to respect, and he finds himself pushing his limits to keep up with them. It becomes a game of who can rap the fastest and come up with the best lyrics.

The crowd around him is alive, shouting out encouragement and screaming for the participants. The energy is electric as Yoongi focuses on his performance. All his worries about Jimin and his friends go away as he throws himself into the flow of words and beats. He's lost in the music and nothing else matters to him besides winning this competition.

When it all comes down to just him and one other rap battler, Yoongi knows he has to pull out all the stops if he wants to win this one. He puts everything he has left into his last few verses until finally emerging victoriously as the winner of the night.

He looks around the crowd for Jimin. Except he's not there. There's not a single familiar face in the crowd at all. Yoongi ignores the sensation of anxiety bubbling under his skin. Jimin probably got caught up talking and catching up with his friends. That must be it.

Still, when Namjoon and Jin make their way through the crowd to him, twin looks of worry etched into their faces, Yoongi feels his anxiety come back in full force.

"Yoongi," Jin is saying. "Yoongi, have you seen Jimin?"

"Not since the battle started," Yoongi says, trying to swallow down the panic. "He was with Seok-ah and Jungkook-ah."

"Apparently, he got upset and walked away from them," Namjoon says. "They thought he went looking for you, but if you haven't seen him-"

"He left," Yoongi concludes. For a moment, he's upset with Hoseok and Jungkook for saying something to upset Jimin. Then he's a little hurt Jimin would leave without coming to find him first. Then– "Wait. Wait, Joon-ah."

Yoongi can't say it out loud. His veins are filled with ice and the lump in his throat is strangling him. He can't breathe.

"Hyung?" Namjoon asks. He holds Yoongi's elbow, which Yoongi is infinitely grateful for because he's pretty sure he's going to pass out.

"Ah Minsu," Yoongi chokes out.

"That asshole sylph?" Jin says, confused.

"He was here," Yoongi is now sure he's going to throw up, rather than pass out. "He was here. Outside."

"What?!" Jin screeches. Without wasting more time, he's gone, pushing his way through the last of the crowd standing around the pit.

Namjoon stays, though, still practically holding Yoongi up. "It'll be okay, hyung. Hyung'll find him."

Yoongi nods mutely. He's pretty sure this is all his fault, somehow. He's not sure exactly where he went wrong, but he's pretty sure he fucked up big time. And now Jimin was in danger.

~

Jimin wipes a tear away from his cheek, angrily. He feels so embarrassed and stupid . His footsteps are the only noise in the otherwise quiet street that leads to the closest train station. His shoulders are hunched and his hands are in his jacket pockets—Yoongi’s jacket pockets—with his right hand holding on to his phone.

He toys with the idea of calling Yoongi. He should call Yoongi, really. But he’s not sure he’s ready to talk about everything yet. If what Hobi says is true, Yoongi is basically royalty , the heir to Sidhe throne or whatever they call the head seat at the Seelie Court. That, on top of the information Jungkook had given him about how Jungkook is some kind of imugi and basically imprinted as a guardian to Jimin for life, is just too much.

Instead of feeling betrayed like he had two months ago, Jimin just feels stupid for not knowing all of these things—for not asking—for never showing the slightest bit of interest in his friends’ lives. How anyone is still friends with him is beyond him. He’s been so selfish and cruel. Embarrassing. He wipes away another tear that was rolling down his face without permission.

He feels his phone vibrate and he pulls it out to see Yoongi is calling him. He hovers over the big red “reject call” button, but decides against it. He’s not going to run away from his problems anymore.

“Hey, hyung,” Jimin says. He’s glad his voice is only minimally shaky.

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi breathes out his name in a sigh. Relief, Jimin thinks. “Where are you? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I left without telling you,” Jimin says. “That was stupid of me.”

“You’re not stupid, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi replies easily. “Hyung was just worried.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says again. “I just, I needed some air and some space. I’m okay. I’m just heading to the train station. I’m just going to head home.”

There’s a pause on the line. Jimin looks around himself, along the poorly lit street, but he can see the light of the subway station about 3 blocks away.

“I can come get you,” Yoongi says quietly, hesitantly. “Just to take you home. So you don’t have to ride the train so late.”

“No, no, it’s okay, hyung,” Jimin says quickly, feeling guilty for his impulsive decision. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Text me tonight when you get home, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says.

“Sure thing, hyung,” Jimin says and hangs up.

Jimin pockets his phone feeling decidedly guilty for causing so much worry. Worrying his friends. Worrying Yoongi.

“So cute,” a voice says with a slow clap.

Jimin freezes in his tracks as he sees Ah Minsu approach, sneering and arrogant. His fists clench in twin feelings of rage and fear as he feels the phone in his pocket, emotions bubbling up inside of him. He can feel a fire rising from within, his blood turning to acid as Ah Minsu stands like a snarky, immovable wall before him.

“What? No hello?” Minsu leers. “That’s very rude. Especially when I’m here to help you.”

Jimin’s frown deepens and he takes a step back, his eyes never leaving the ground. He glances around for an escape route but realizes that the street is dark, blackness falling everywhere. Was the street this dark a moment ago? He can make out a doorway to his right and the glow of the subway station sign 3 blocks away, feeling much further away than it had just a minute ago.

“Get to the point,” Jimin grits out as he turns his attention back to the sylph in front of him.

Minsu tuts. The smile that stretches his face has a shiver running up Jimin’s spine. “Well, somehow, the Court got wind that Min Yoongi-ssi has been fraternizing with humans. Could be bad for him. Could get him sent back to The Dreaming. Permanently.”

Jimin freezes at that, looking at the sylph’s face. This guy is an asshole and a liar, but the idea that Yoongi could be banned from coming here to Seoul—permanently has Jimin feeling panicked. Jimin cannot, will not, be the reason Yoongi loses the one place he’s said makes him feel alive. And if there’s even a grain of truth–

“However, there’s an easy way to get that cleared up. At Court. You just need to tell them that you’re consenting and whatever it is he’s done to you was with your permission,” Minsu says easily with a shrug. The smirk on his face shows much he’s enjoying watching Jimin’s discomfort grow.

“You want me to go to the Seelie Court? Is that even possible?” Jimin asks.

“Of course, it’s possible with an invitation,” Minsu says. “Luckily for you, I have a pretty decent standing within the Court myself. So I can issue you an invitation, no problem.”

Jimin eyes the fae in front of him. This could be a trick. It’s not like the sylph has done anything trustworthy at this point.

“What is in it for you?” Jimin asks.

Minsu laughs, amused. “You humans are so quick to think that we fae want something from your kind. Maybe I’m just doing a good deed. I heard about Min Yoongi-ssi being in trouble and decided I would help out.”

Jimin scoffs. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Well, what about your other friends? Jung Hoseok? Jeon Jungkook?” Minsu asks.

Jimin’s chest squeezes in panic. His face must betray his worry because Minsu is tutting again. Smirk growing into a satisfied grin.

“Just think, Min Yoongi-ssi’s mistake,” Minsu says, his face wrinkling a bit in disgust at the word ‘mistake,’ “could impact his whole circle of friends. They could all end up permanently banned.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jimin says, head feeling heavy.

“Well, the fae take misdeeds in The Crossing very seriously. Prolonged fraternization is a very serious offense. But it can be cleared up so easily.”

Jimin cannot go anywhere with Minsu. That would be stupid. How can he trust anything this fae says?

“In fact, let me prove to you what I’m saying,” Minsu speaks again. “Let me introduce my good friend, the Sidhe.”

Jimin watches another tall person step out of the darkness to stand next to Minsu. They are in billowing robes of silver with dark blue hair in a fancy mass of braids on top of their head. They remind Jimin of the other two Sidhe who visited Yoongi’s hanok two months ago.

“My dear cousin,” the Sidhe says, bowing to Minsu, “is correct that Min Yoongi-ssi, as you know him, is being sought out by the Court.”

Jimin nods at this. He’s wishing, not for the first time, he knew more about the fae and the Court. After this is over, he’s going to invest in some books, maybe take a class, or maybe ask his friends for a crash course, if he can suck up his embarrassment.

“I would like to extend an invitation to you, Park Jimin-ssi,” the Sidhe says, voice laced with a soft accent. Jimin is surprised when they hold out a thin, burgundy card. Jimin steps forward to automatically take it with both hands. He sees what must be the Seelie Court seal and feels his face fall at the thought that this might be the truth.

Jimin looks at the card, unseeing, as he thinks about the potential consequences if all of his friends are permanently banned to The Dreaming. They would lose all the lives they have built here in Seoul. And it will be all Jimin’s fault.

“What do I have to do?” Jimin asks, squaring his shoulders.

“Easy, accept the invitation and just step through this door here,” Minsu smiles and gestures to the door in the building to their right. “We’ll just pop through and clear this up right away.”

“Will you accept my invitation, Park Jimin-ssi?” the Sidhe asks.

“Alright,” Jimin says. He’ll text Yoongi once he’s there, he thinks. Hopefully, this will all be over soon, once this misunderstanding is cleared up. He turns to face the Sidhe and says, “I accept your invitation.”

The Sidhe goes through the door first. From where Jimin is standing, nothing much happens. The Sidhe steps through to what looks like the door to an abandoned office, part of some industrial complex of some kind. Jimin figures it's like the warehouse for the Friends Only, spelled to look ordinary. Minsu is then gesturing him through before he can think much more on it. Without a glance backwards, Jimin steps through the dark doorway to the Seelie Court.

~

Dawn starts creeping over the horizon, spilling warm light into the hanok, when Yoongi really starts panicking. All of Yoongi’s texts go unanswered and his eventual calls go straight to voicemail. When his buzzing at Jimin’s apartment are only met with silence, Yoongi decides to call in the rest of their friend group.

“Jungkook-ah, have you heard from Jimin?” Yoongi asks while on speaker driving to a local coffee shop he knows Jimin sometimes goes to people-watch.

“Jimin hyung?” Jungkook asks. “What do you mean?”

“He isn’t answering his phone. I haven’t talked to him since he was walking to the train last night,” Yoongi says, feeling incredibly stupid for taking so long to realize Jimin might actually be missing.

“Hyung,” Jungkook sounds broken as he utters the word.

“I know, Kook-ah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, hyung,” Jungkook says.

“Maybe,” Yoongi doesn’t feel like belaboring the point. This is definitely his fault though.

“I’ll call the others,” Jungkook says. “I’ll let you know if we hear from him.”

“Thanks, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, pulling into a parking space in front of the coffee shop.

Jimin isn’t at the coffee shop. None of the baristas have seen him today. Yoongi’s heart races as he leaves the coffee shop and heads back to his car. He tries calling Jimin again, praying to any god that might be listening this time it goes through.

It doesn’t.

He drives to Bubbles and Brew where they’d had their first kind-of-date. He drives to the movie theater, the fancy Japanese restaurant, the park by the Han River. Yoongi even tries the cat café where Jimin had confessed he's actually quite allergic to cats, but only after they had been in the café for 15 minutes.

Jimin isn’t anywhere.

“Let’s meet at your house, hyung,” Taehyung says over the phone. No one had better luck than Yoongi.

Namjoon arrives late to Yoongi’s hanok, his brow furrowed with worry. Yoongi can see him hesitating at the doorway before joining the others. Everyone else is gathered around Yoongi’s kitchen and dining area. Jin and Taehyung are sifting through their phones, trying to find any more contacts that might be able to help. Jungkook paces. Hoseok stares at the wall, unseeing, clearly lost in what is probably some kind of self-destructive spiral.

“Come in, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says, when the man doesn’t move.

Namjoon toes off his shoes and steps into the room. “Hyung, I’ve been conferring with some of my acquaintances who might know that sylph, Ah Minsu. From what I’ve gathered, he has been planning something. He’s been asking around about you. And about Hoseok and Jungkook. It doesn’t really make sense, but it can’t be good.”

Yoongi allows himself a moment to internally berate himself. The “should have” list is long. He should have taken care of that asshole from the beginning. He should have made sure he was actually banned. He should have made sure Jimin would be protected.

Just then, there is the low chime of someone calling at the door. Yoongi stands up quickly, slips outdoor shoes on at the step, and makes his way across the madang to the front gate. Anger flares in him as he sees the two Sidhe standing before him.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” one of them says.

“Look, now isn’t a good time,” Yoongi starts.

“Ah, yes,” the other Sidhe says. “You might be worrying about that little human. Park Jimin-ssi.”

Yoongi looks sharply at the second Sidhe. “What do you know about Park Jimin?”

“It seems one of our cousins issued an invitation to Court and Park Jimin-ssi accepted,” the first Sidhe says.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi snarls out. “There is no way in this plane or any fucking other that Jimin would accept an invitation to the fucking Seelie Court willingly.”

“You know as well I do, cousin,” the second Sidhe says, “that invitations must be consented to. I can assure you, Park Jimin-ssi, willingly accepted our cousin’s invitation.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi spits out. “That’s complete bullshit.”

“No matter,” the first Sidhe sniffs. “We’re here to issue you an invitation to Court, cousin.”

The Sidhe proffers a red invitation, holding it out for Yoongi to take. Yoongi angrily grabs the card with one hand and slams the metal door shut in the two Sidhes’ faces.

“Fuck,” Yoongi says to the door. “Fuck!”

“What happened, hyung?” Jungkook asks from the courtyard.

Yoongi turns to see that everyone is standing there by the pond, waiting for news.

“Jimin’s at Court,” Yoongi says flatly. He glances down at the burgundy card in his hand. His skin crawls at the sight of it. Wishes burning it would change reality. “He’s at fucking Court.”

The silence that hangs over the madang is palpable. No one moves, all eyes on Yoongi. Yoongi doesn't know for how long everything freezes in place—a minute? an hour? Then–

“Why would he be at Court, hyung?” Hoseok asks. His eyes are wide.

“Maybe he didn’t know you can say no to the invitation,” Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi’s heart breaks at how desolate Jungkook’s voice is.

Namjoon says, sounding as forlorn as Yoongi feels, “He didn’t know enough. We could have protected him better by telling him more. We should have done a better job preparing him.”

Jin’s face turns an angry red as he murmurs, “How could none of you have talked to Jimin about fae matters?”

“We all dragged him into this mess,” Taehyung says, almost to himself, his jaw clenching.

There’s another tense silence as everyone wrestles their own thoughts. Yoongi feels a wave of guilt wash over him as Jin’s words sink in. He had been so caught up in his own feelings for Jimin that he hadn’t even considered how unsafe it might be for him to be around the fae. He had let his own desires cloud his judgment, and now Jimin was paying the price.

“We couldn’t have foreseen this though,” Hoseok says gently.

The air suddenly seems heavy and charged with emotion as everyone eyes each other.

Namjoon’s jaw clenches tightly as he snarls, “It wasn’t me who didn’t talk to him for two months!”

“Why are you trying to pin this on me? I haven’t done anything wrong,” Hoseok says, his voice rising in pitch as he slams his arms against his chest.

“But you do see him every day, don’t you?” Namjoon snaps back.

“This isn’t an office! We’re dancing! All of us have different classes and assignments!” Hoseok yells. “Besides, any one of you could have just as easily called him. Phones exist, you know.”

“He needed better protection,” Taehyung says. Then he suddenly rounds on Jungkook. “Aren’t you supposed to be his Guardian? Where were you?”

Jungkook flinches as if Taehyung hit him and looks near tears at the accusation and looks down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where he was or that he was in danger. I should have been more vigilant.”

“It’s not just Jungkook’s fault,” Yoongi says, stepping forward to defend the maknae. “None of us were paying enough attention to Jimin’s safety. We were all too caught up in our own bullshit to think through the consequences.”

Hoseok slams his fist on the wooden porch railing. Yoongi watches as everyone starts screaming at one another, no one even listening to the others’ words anymore. Yoongi feels his temper flare as the argument spirals out of control. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The anger fizzles out immediately, leaving anguish and fear in its wake.

“Enough!” Yoongi growls loudly, pulling the symbol for peace as he yells. The group falls silent immediately. Yoongi softens his tone as he says, “We can fight among ourselves later if we must, but right now we have to get Jimin back. Before something bad happens. Assuming we’re not too late.”

“It’s the Seelie Court, Yoongi-chi,” Jin’s tone is softer now, too. “He should be safe there.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Just like he was safe at the Friends Only. Twice.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok breathes out.

The silence is tense and awkward.

Yoongi nods his head in agreement, feeling sick at the memory of each misstep. He knows that right now, without proper support, Jimin is not safe anywhere near the fae, especially in the Seelie Court. “We need to act fast. Namjoon, can you gather any intel you can on Minsu’s plans?”

“Sure thing, hyung,” Namjoon says.

“The rest of you,” Yoongi says, turning to look at the other four fae. “Will you come with me to the Seelie Court?”

“Is that an invitation, hyung?” Hoseok asks, a hint of sass in his voice that helps break some of the tension.

“Yes, Jung Hoseok-ssi.” Yoongi pulls himself up straight in mock regality. “I am officially inviting you, along with Kim Seokjin-ssi, Kim Taehyung-ssi, and Jeon Jungkook-ssi, to accompany me to the Seelie Court.”

~

Jimin tries not to panic as he’s escorted by two fae guards to an isolated guest room deep in the bowels of the Seelie Court. He realizes quickly he’s not in the industrial building they entered in Seoul. He realizes that he’s probably not even in Seoul anymore. This Court must be somewhere else, some place else and that the door they walked through was just a portal.

The Seelie Court itself is like a large hanok, or multiple hanoks maybe, made of light colored wood. The structures are connected by courtyard gardens and delicate covered timber walkways. Bright white paper screens divide the outer courtyards from the inner buildings, which glisten in the sunlight with their polished wooden floors and intricately carved walls, which reflect back the light in beautiful patterns. Almost too beautiful. With each turn in the path, new halls open up, twisting away from Jimin so that he knows he’ll never find his way through at this rate.

The guest room itself is simple and clean. The sunlight that slants in through the paper-covered window paints soft, dancing shapes on the white walls. A low desk with a cushion for a seat lines one wall; in the other corner sits a low table with a comforter folded neatly at its foot. There is a yo mattress with a cover spread across it in the center of the floor.

As soon as he’s alone, he pulls out his phone to text Yoongi to tell him where he was. As he looks at the words “out of service” on his screen and feels the prickle of anxiety. He can’t contact Yoongi. No one knows he’s here. He’s on a different plane of existence and no one knows he’s left Seoul.

Jimin sits on the mattress, his back to the wall, waiting. There’s no sound except for his own breathing, which seems loud in all this silence. He expects to hear some sort of activity, but it was as if time has stopped entirely. Then, he realizes the light coming through the paper in the window never changes. Apparently, here at the Seelie Court, there is no sunrise or sunset. He loses all sense of time.

Not a single soul comes to greet him. The stark silence only adds to Jimin’s terror that grows with every passing moment. To keep himself from hyperventilating, Jimin’s fingers play with the jade orb around his neck and his mind wanders to memories of Yoongi, of his friends, of home.

Yoongi at the piano. Yoongi’s gummy smile. Yoongi smirking at some quip he’s made. Yoongi kissing Jimin.

He thinks of his friends, who he owes several large, prolonged apologies to. He pushed them away when he was prejudiced and scared. He kept them at arm’s length. He ran away every single moment that got rough.

He thinks of his job teaching dance and choreographing. He thinks of the life he’s built for himself in Seoul.

Jimin’s muscles tense at the sound of approaching footsteps, his heart pounding in trepidation. Suddenly two Sidhe stride into the room, their colorful robes and sashes glinting in the candlelight. With a sharp exhale, they simultaneously produce a basin filled with steaming water, along with several cloths and a comb.

One of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to come towards the basin of steaming water. Jimin hesitates, feeling the Sidhe’s piercing gaze pierce him like needles as he steps closer to the basin. His heart thuds loudly in his chest and his feet feel like lead weights sinking into the carpet. Then the other Sidhe is tugging at his clubbing clothes, clearly indicating for him to take them off.

“Excuse me?” Jimin asks shakily, clutching at himself protectively.

The Sidhe make an impatient noise and move to help him remove his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Jimin shrills, trying to back up.

His resistance seems to make the Sidhe more insistent, as they pull at his shirt and pants. Jimin quakes in fear, his heart pounding against his ribcage. A thousand needles seem to pierce into his skin with every passing second as the two Sidhe wordlessly stare meaningfully at him. His mind scrambles for something to do, but he can do nothing but obey their unspoken command and strip himself of clothing piece by piece until all that remains is his underwear—which appears to satisfy the two fae in front of him. Jimin shivers and hunches his body up, covering himself with crossed arms and raised shoulders.

Once he’s naked, one of the Sidhe gestures for Jimin to wash himself in the basin, handing him a cloth to wash himself with. He’s quick to take it, to show them he can do it himself. Jimin’s hands quiver as they dip into the warm liquid, shaking. He struggles not to let his fear take over as he washes himself with the water and a cloth, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable beneath their watchful eyes. Every muscle in his body is clenched tightly, trying to keep composure but failing miserably. The Sidhe remain silent throughout, never once speaking or reacting to anything he does.

Once finished, they silently take away the basin and present him with a beautiful green robe of silk that fits him perfectly. One of the Sidhe takes up a comb and begins to work it through his hair, their long nails gently scraping against his scalp. The other Sidhe ties an intricate knot around his waist. Jimin stands as still as possible, feeling like part of this strange ritual where he will become the human sacrifice. With a nod, they turn and leave without another word.

In the same whirlwind fashion that they arrive, the Sidhe are gone again.

Tears fall then as he stands in the middle of the bedroom in strange clothes, in a different plane of existence , feeling utterly alone and violated. His hands run over the robes the Sidhe had dressed him in. He doesn’t even feel like himself anymore. He can’t tell if he’s losing his mind, if any of this is real. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but the tears keep flowing down his face.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to come here? Jimin collapses onto the bed, too overwhelmed to process what has just happened and why. He had been foolish to trust Minsu—what had he been thinking? What possessed him to go along with their plan? He should have known better. He should have known it was a mistake, should have contacted Yoongi or anyone. His chest feels heavy with worry as he thinks of his current situation.

He looks around for something, anything, that might help him find a way out of this place. In desperation, he gets up and begins searching the room for any sort of exit or window. The door won’t budge. The window doesn’t open. As he does so, however, panic begins to take over him once again. What if there was no way out? What did they want with him?

Jimin slumps to the floor, his knees giving way beneath him. He buries his face in his hands and sobs uncontrollably. He can’t believe he’s so helpless and alone, stuck in a world he doesn’t understand. The tears start streaming down his cheeks and Jimin pulls his hands through his freshly combed hair. As his sobs echo through the room, a wave of sadness washes over him as he realizes just how far away home feels right now. The weight of his situation bears down on him like a crushing weight, threatening to suffocate him.

~

The Seelie Court has not changed at all in the years of Yoongi’s absence. He’s extremely irritated that the Sidhe have manipulated things and forced his hand so he’d have to show his face here again. As he pieced together the information they had to go with—the Sidhe’s increasingly backhanded ways of inviting Yoongi to Court, Minsu suddenly have the far too brilliant plan to bring Jimin here. No, this is the workings of the heads of Court.

The realization that this has all been a plot to get Yoongi back to Court came as a brief relief to Yoongi. It means they have no real intention of hurting Jimin. Yoongi can just show his face, fight whatever verbal sparring match the heads of Court have planned, and then take Jimin safely home. He holds onto this as he strides confidently into the Great Hall, flanked by Jungkook and Hoseok on his right and Jin and Taehyung on his left.

Yoongi only allows himself a brief glance at the room, unchanged and familiar as it is. The whole hall is bright, as if bathed in a perpetual morning light. There are plants everywhere, tucked into corners, hanging from the rafters. Chairs are scattered throughout, never in any practical arrangement for holding an audience at Court. But then again, they never really have had much need for holding audience.

While only a few of the scattered chairs are occupied by fae—many more are probably hidden away throughout the room, which is deceptively larger than it appears—, calmly sipping from tea cups or simply admiring the foliage about, Yoongi can see the entire heads of Court has been assembled. Twelve Sidhe, in their silver and blue robes, sit in a semi-circle on the raised dais at the front of the hall. It is towards this dais that Yoongi and his coterie walk to now.

As they approach the Sidhe, Yoongi can feel the air around him grow tense with each step. He can feel their eyes on him, measuring and assessing. He knows what they are doing—they are trying to intimidate him, to make him feel small and insignificant, the same trick they’ve been catching him in his whole life. However, he’s brought his own arsenal of tools for intimidation. Starting with his friends at his side, all dressed in their Seoul fashion—a clear rejection of Court protocol. He straightens his shoulders and holds his head up high as he steps to the appropriate distance from the dais. He’s pleased to see the flicker of uncertainty briefly flash in some of the Sidhe’s eyes.

“Well,” says the eldest of the Sidhe. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Yoongi feels a flash of anger course through him at the condescending tone. He takes a deep breath before speaking, keeping his voice even and controlled. He can hear his friends taking similarly deep breaths from behind him.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he says, bowing his head slightly. “As you know, I had important matters, including my livelihood, to attend to in The Crossing.”

Another of the Sidhe snorts in disbelief. Yoongi feels his hands tense into fists at his side and he has to consciously relax them.

“Important matters indeed,” they say. “We’ve heard all about your dilly-dallying.”

“Dilly-dallying,” Yoongi can hear Hoseok mock the word under his breath.

Yoongi is about to open his mouth in retort, but another voice interrupts him. “Well, Min Yoongi-ssi, you came much quicker than I expected.”

Ah Minsu walks through the Great Hall to stand near Yoongi’s group, far away enough to avoid physical threat, but still near enough to the dais. The newcomer looks resplendent in golden robes with several layers. Everything flutters as he moves, as if he’s buoyed by his own little wind. Yoongi raises his eyebrow to the sylph.

“Cocky and stupid,” Jin mutters under his breath.

Yoongi huffs out a quick laugh, trying to bite back the angry smile threatening to ruin his composure in front of the Court.

“I’m rather surprised you’re here at all, Minsu-ssi,” Yoongi says. He can’t stop the smirk on his lips then. “I may use your name here, can I not? You seem to have no qualms about using mine.”

Minsu leers at him. “Why wouldn’t I be here? I am a representative for my clan. I have many dealings with Court. Plus, I wanted to come give my testimony in your case.”

“Dear cousin,” the eldest Sidhe speaks, looking at Minsu, “what do you mean by testimony?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minsu asks, turning to face the heads of Court. Yoongi watches the sylph’s face become the facade of obedience and contrition. “Our cousin is making an attempt to keep a human in The Crossing as a pet .”

The Great Hall had been relatively quiet up until now, but upon Minsu’s words, whispers break out among the fae. Even some of the heads of the Court lean towards one another to remark on the allegations.

Before Yoongi can react, Taehyung is launching himself towards Minsu with a cry, “You bastard!”

As Taehyung surges forward, Yoongi reaches out to grab him, but misses. However, Jin is closer and successfully gets a hold of Taehyung in a strained back hug.

“Don’t you dare talk about Jimin like that!” Taehyung yells at Minsu, struggling against Jin’s hold on him, both their eyes ablaze with anger. Yoongi tries to put a placating hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, but Taehyung continues his struggle.

Yoongi doesn’t want them getting into a fight that could ruin their chances of getting Jimin out of here unharmed. Yoongi looks towards Minsu and sees the sylph is laughing. Yoongi thinks he looks a bit crazed. It’s nauseating.

“That is enough,” the eldest Sidhe says, voice echoing with magical amplification to fill the hall.

Taehyung huffs, but stills his struggle. He keeps his eyes narrowly trained on the sylph. Satisfied his friend isn’t going to do anything impulsive, Yoongi turns his gaze to Minsu again. The sylph shoots a smirk at Yoongi, who feels a muscle in his jaw tighten, but otherwise holds his tongue.

“Do you care to elaborate on your accusations, cousin?” one of the Sidhe on the dais asks. “While possibly distasteful, it is not explicitly illicit to have a relationship with a human. However, if the human is not consenting...”

The Sidhe lets their sentence trail off, letting everyone understand where the nuance in the laws lay. Yoongi uses all his willpower not to laugh aloud.

“You see,” Minsu says, still confident for reasons Yoongi cannot fathom, “I met the human at a gathering of humans and fae. I was immediately concerned with the way that Yoongi-ssi was treating this human in particular. He seemed far too interested, picking him out of the crowd intentionally. I could tell that the human was shocked and uncomfortable with Yoongi-ssi’s spell summoning. Yoongi-ssi did not notice, or did not care.”

Minsu pauses and shoots a glare at the rest of Yoongi’s friends for added effect. “The human definitely didn’t want to go with Yoongi-ssi. It took a lot of work, but I was finally able to find the human alone and convince him to get away from Yoongi-ssi. I did eventually decide it was better to bring him here to Court. It seemed like the only way.”

Yoongi watches as Minsu weaves his intricate lies, anger simmering in his gut.

“Knowing that Yoongi-ssi seems to have not had as proper of an upbringing as the rest of us, I figured it best to make sure he is taught a lesson here, at Court. I’m sure being raised in The Crossing has led to an incomplete education,” Minsu finishes with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Yoongi can hear the surprised gasps from his own group of friends. He can hear Hoseok’s incredulous laugh leak out before he can clamp a hand over his own mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Jin says, sounding incredulous, before the Sidhe on the dais can speak up. “Do you not actually know who he is?”

Jin waves a hand vaguely in Yoongi’s direction while he addresses Minsu. This time it is Taehyung that accidentally lets out a disbelieving laugh.

Minsu clearly has no fucking clue. This is better than Yoongi thought.

“Of course I know who he is,” Minsu replies and actually rolls his eyes. “He’s Min Yoongi-ssi of no clan, half-fae, from The Crossing.”

Yoongi can feel both Hoseok and Taehyung struggle to maintain composure and even Jin now looks like he’s about to laugh. Yoongi feels like he needs to reign this in and get Jimin so they can get out of here.

The eldest Sidhe clears their throat from the dais. Everyone sobers up a bit and turns their attention back to the heads of the Court.

“The matter of the human’s consent can be quickly ascertained,” one of the Sidhe says. They nod to a fae standing to the right of the dais and watch for a moment as the fae leaves though a sliding door. “However, given our cousin’s upbringing, I am certain we will find no wrongdoing.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense!” Minsu growls. His face grows red with anger as he tries to puzzle together everyone’s reactions to his accusations. He whirls on Yoongi. “Who the fuck are you?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrow at Minsu, but decides not to answer him. Instead, he turns back to the dais and asks, “Where is Jimin? I would like to see him.”

“Ah, he is being summoned now,” the eldest Sidhe says.

“What the fuck is going on? I was told if I brought the human here, Yoongi would get the justice he deserves,” Minsu is shouting now.

“I’m not sure who told you that, cousin,” another Sidhe on the dais says. “But, we are not in the habit of punishing those that have not actually committed crimes.”

“Yoongi is a low life! He fucking raps at clubs and who knows what else! How can any of you be defending him! Don’t even get me started on those pathetic excuses for fae he hangs out with!” Minsu seethes, clearly grasping.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow on the sylph. Someone can belittle his character all they want, but sure as fuck they are not going to come after his friends.

“First,” Yoongi starts, “you started this, asshole, spelling humans without their consent. I should have had you banished back to The Dreaming for good immediately. That was my mistake. I’ll be sure to rectify that today.”

Most of the Court raises their eyebrows at this revelation. More whispering erupts throughout the Great Hall. Minsu sputters.

“Second,” Yoongi continues with barely a pause, “my friends are all upstanding citizens. Half of them are esteemed members of this Court. Which you would know if you actually asked around. In fact, despite my long absence, it’s probably not hard to find out who I am just by asking. I suggest you do your actual homework before talking out your ass.”

Minsu is still sputtering, as if trying to find something to say but failing.

“Third,” Yoongi drops his voice low, tone that of steel, he raises his arm to point his index finger straight at the eldest Sidhe, “while I am no longer a member of this Court, that seat was once to be mine. Yes, I may have renounced my clan and have settled in The Crossing like many of our kind have, but I grew up in these very halls.”

Yoongi stalks slowly forward towards Minsu, who is looking satisfyingly terrified now. Yoongi feels as if he’s about to vibrate out of his skin as a rage that goes well beyond just the sylph standing before him burns through him. He punches a single finger into Minsu’s chest to emphasize his point.

“Insulting my upbringing is to insult to my parent,” Yoongi gestures again towards the eldest Sidhe, “and to insult the entire Seelie Court. Apologize to them.”

Minsu doesn’t even hesitate. He drops into a full bow, forehead pressed into the wooden floor.

“Forgive me, dear cousins,” Minsu murmurs into the wood.

“Now get out. I don’t want Jimin to have to see your face,” Yoongi says with finality.

Minsu quickly rises to his feet and trips over his own feet in his scramble for the door, skirting around Yoongi’s friends on his way out. He’s gone from Court in less than two minutes.

“Now,” Yoongi turns back to the heads of the Court. “Where is Jimin?”

“He should be here any moment,” the eldest Sidhe replies with a small smirk. How Minsu hadn’t seen the resemblance between the Sidhe and Yoongi is surely beyond everyone in the room.

Just then the door the fae had exited early slides open and the fae steps back through it. She looks nervous before she steps aside to let the person behind her through.

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he sees Jimin. He’s wearing grand green robes that make him look ethereal, but his pale complexion, the red splotches on his face, tousled hair, and swollen eyes are clear indications he’s been crying. He’s breathing hard, taking in gulps of air as he steps into the room. His eyes light up with hope as he and Yoongi make eye contact.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yoongi asks with a hardened tone. He’s itching to throw himself at Jimin, to run out of here, to burn the entire Court down as he goes. He swallows down his instincts and waits for the Sidhe to answer him.

At the same moment, Jungkook makes a broken whimper and races toward Jimin, Taehyung hot on his heels. Both fae immediately wrap themselves protectively around the human and usher him back over to their group.

There is clear confusion in the faces of the Sidhe as they watch the events unfold before them. Finally, the eldest Sidhe asks, “What is the meaning of what?”

~

Jimin’s ears have been filled with static ever since the fae came to collect him from his room. Again, no words were exchanged as the fae led him down twisting paths and confusing corridors. He realizes he hasn’t heard a spoken word aside from his own since Minsu’s rough “deal with the human” when he was left in this place. The silence and the terror have him choking on the scream building in his throat.

They finally stop in front of a simple white door. Before he can even take a breath, the fae is sliding it open and stepping inside, gesturing for him to follow.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the back of the fae in front of him, he follows into the room, which turns out to be a large hall filled with plants. He tempts a glance around, trying to get his bearings. There are a whole group of Sidhe, tall and intimidating with their ornately styled blue hair, on a platform in front of him. As he looks further into the hall, his knees almost give out in relief at the sight of a familiar group of people. Jimin’s eyes lock with Yoongi’s and Jimin releases an inaudible gasp.

Yoongi looks soft for the briefest of moments as he gazes at Jimin, eyes raking up and down Jimin’s frame, then his expression turns hard, angry. He faces back to the platform. His tone matches his expression when he asks, “What is the meaning of this?”

It’s so jarring to hear someone speak—especially with that tone of voice coming from Yoongi —after so long in silence. How long has he been here, in this timeless, soundless, lifeless place? How do the fae stop themselves from going mad here?

Jimin registers the despondent sound Jungkook makes just before he and Taehyung are barreling forward, wrapping their arms protectively around Jimin. Before he can even process what is happening, he’s surrounded by his friends. They all seem to form a barrier between him and the rest of the room.

He wants to embrace the relief of being with his friends again, with Yoongi. But he can’t let himself relax yet. His friends might still be in trouble. Yoongi might be in trouble. That’s, after all, why he came to this godforsaken place in the first place. With a start, he realizes Yoongi’s been talking this whole time, voice still sharp as steel, with the Sidhe on the platform.

Yoongi stands with his arms folded across his chest. He looks like he could spit acid at the Sidhe, who look back at him with creased brows. Their voices are quiet and calm. Jimin’s anxiety spirals from inside his little friend fortress.

“We have done nothin but treat the human with respect and hospitality,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Bullshit,” Yoongi growls. “Let’s wrap this up so we may leave and never come back.”

“But dear cousin–” another of the Sidhe starts.

“No,” Yoongi cuts them off. “I am not interested. I haven’t been interested in decades. I have a life in The Crossing, as is my right. I am not giving up my life for this bullshit. So take your Court and fuck off. You think you’re better than the Unseelie Court? You think you’re all noble? Did any one of you ask Jimin what he wanted or if he was even here of his own freewill?”

An eerie silence hangs over the hall.

Yoongi scoffs in disgust. Jimin can just see his profile through the shoulders of his friends. The fae is standing tall—commanding—and the anger rolling off of him is almost visible.

“What happened to consent, hm?” Yoongi sneers. “One of the most sacred values, is it not?”

“Cousin,” a Sidhe says, shifting a little on their feet, “it is true, perhaps, we were not as thorough as we should have been.”

Jimin can hear Jungkook and Taehyung both let out angry huffs of air, but they don’t move.

“Human, step forward,” the Sidhe in the center of the platform says.

His wall of friends around him are tense, hesitating to move until Yoongi tells them to let Jimin through.

Yoongi holds his hand out to Jimin, palm up. Jimin takes it readily and steps up next to the fae. Yoongi’s hand gives his a comforting squeeze. Jimin keeps his eyes trained on the platform in front of him, rather than making eye contact with any of the fae.

Jimin takes a few deep breaths, his hand still in Yoongi’s. He can tell the Sidhe are all watching them, feel the burning of their gaze on his skin. But as discomforting as their gaze is, he can also feel the familiar comfort of all of his friends at his back, close enough for their body heat to reach him.

The realization hits Jimin then. It was all a trick. A stupid one. Yoongi was never in danger until Jimin stupidly followed that asshole through that door. His friends were never in danger. This is their home, for fucks sake. Something settles inside his chest then, some of the fear melts away.

“Human,” the Sidhe says. “Did you consent to coming to Court?”

“I–” Jimin starts, thinking back. “I did. But I was told Yoongi hyung was in trouble. I was told I could help him if I came here.”

Yoongi makes a small choking noise, clearly upset, but Jimin keeps his eyes on the Sidhe’s feet.

“I see,” the Sidhe says. “Well, while you were clearly given false information, I’m afraid consent was still given.”

“What the fuck,” Hoseok says from behind Jimin.

And Jimin has had enough. He’s tired. He’s afraid, but less afraid now that his friends are here. Now that he knows the imagined threats are just that—imagined. Most importantly, though, he’s angry. So angry. Angry at Minsu. Angry at the Sidhe. He lifts his chin and makes eye contact with each Sidhe standing on the platform.

“However,” Jimin says loudly, making sure his voice carries, which has the added bonus of taking the tremor out of his tone. He silently gives thanks for that theater class he took in university. “I did not consent to being stripped naked, forced to wash in front of an audience. I did not consent to wearing unfamiliar clothes, have my own belongings taken away, and to sit in some empty room for who knows how long. No one asked me for my permission. No one has spoken a word to me at all.”

Jimin’s face burns red at the confession, not sure if it’s a product of him being embarrassed or angry, and he worries he sounds like he’s rambling. He darts his eyes to the side momentarily to see if he can see Yoongi’s reaction. Yoongi is staring at him, eyes burning fierce with what might be a mixture of anger and pride. Okay then.

“You know what, I might have given my consent to be here when I didn’t know what the fuck was actually going on,” Jimin continues, confidence blossoming in his chest. “But now I know.”

Jimin takes a deep breath and squeezes Yoongi’s hand tighter. Yoongi’s presence grounds him. He meets the Sidhe’s gaze head on, his voice growing stronger with each passing second.

“I did not come here to be humiliated and degraded. I did not come here to be treated like some plaything for you and your Court’s amusement. And I sure as hell did not come here to be used as leverage against someone I care about,” Jimin says, his voice menacing.

The tension in the room is palpable, waiting for the Sidhe to respond. Jimin fights the urge to fidget under their intense scrutiny, focusing on the weight of Yoongi’s hand in his.

“I see,” one of the Sidhe says finally, breaking the silence. “We apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Wow,” Jimin hears Taehyung breathe out, voice laced with sarcasm.

No one moves. Jimin has no intention of accepting their half-assed apology. Instead he says, lifting his chin higher in determination, “I am revoking my consent. I no longer wish to accept your invitation to this Court. I would like to go home. With Yoongi. And my friends. Now.”

The Sidhe seem speechless—a frozen tableau of blue fae with varying levels of shock on their faces standing before him on their platform.

“Let’s fucking go then,” Taehyung says, breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the room.

Suddenly, Yoongi is turning, pushing Jimin into his friends’ arms. The group moves quickly, ushering Jimin down the length of the room and out a set of oversized doors. They are in a large circular room with doors all along the walls. Each has a small label over the top of the door frame, but the language must be fae, because Jimin can’t decipher it.

No one makes a move to stop them as Namjoon’s boyfriend opens the door they’ve moved in front of. Without any further ceremony, they all file through the door and end up in a room that looks suspiciously reminiscent of Yoongi’s hanok.

“That was really hot,” Taehyung breathes out.

Hoseok laughs, although it sounds more like relief.

Jungkook hasn’t let Jimin go yet, hand still coiled protectively around Jimin’s bicep. “You okay, hyung?”

Jimin nods and looks around at the faces standing around him, looking for one in particular.

When he doesn’t see who he’s looking for, he frantically asks, “Wait, where’s Yoongi?”

~

Yoongi waits until he’s sure everyone has made it through the portal before he turns his attention back to the Court and the Sidhe on the dais. He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you invited me,” Yoongi says calmly. “I assume it wasn’t to swap chicken soup recipes.”

“Child,” the eldest Sidhe says.

Yoongi looks at his parent, standing regal in the center of the dais, and waits.

“I do not want you making the same mistakes as I did,” the Sidhe continues.

Yoongi clenches his jaw. There is an edge to his tone as he repeats, “Mistakes.”

“Yes, I did much when I was younger that I wish I had spared myself from. The Crossing provides much to distract, but that can be dangerous,” the Sidhe says.

“By that logic, I am one of your mistakes, since I am a product of your forays into The Crossing,” Yoongi says.

“I would not put it that way, Child,” the Sidhe says, the barest hint of sadness in their voice. “Humans feel much, it’s true. But their emotions are not stable. They do not understand longevity the way those of us of The Dreaming do.”

“Thank you for your advice. I promise I will not regret this choice. I cannot apologize for taking certain risks and living my life on my own terms,” Yoongi says. He almost pities the fae on the dais. They rarely leave the cozy blandness of the Seelie Court. They don’t realize what they are missing. What it feels like to be alive—or to truly love.

None of the Sidhe speak. Yoongi is happy to wait them out, letting the tension fill the room, an invisible cloud that makes it a little hard to breathe.

Yoongi is relieved when Namjoon walks up to the front of the room. He positions himself next to Yoongi, giving the fae a small nod. Yoongi feels the final coil of anxiety release.

“Alright, well, I’m leaving,” Yoongi says, dusting non-existent dust off his jeans, sounding almost tired, as if he’s had to put up with way too much bullshit for one day—which is true. And he means every word he says, he can already feel the dulling of his emotions the longer he stays. It’s time to go.

“You cannot just walk away from your responsibilities,” one of the Sidhe says.

“Ah, cousin,” Yoongi replies, allowing the sarcasm to drip through in his tone, “you are so correct. And I have many, many responsibilities and obligations waiting for me in The Crossing. So. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gives the eldest Sidhe a courtesy nod of his head and then he turns on his heel and marches out of the Great Hall. Namjoon keeps pace with him.

“That sylph is actually banished this time?” Yoongi asks when they are far enough away from the dais he feels comfortable to talk.

“Yes, hyung,” Namjoon says. “Turns out someone had, uh, mislaid the paperwork the first time. Apparently someone thought it would be a good idea to trick Minsu into bringing Jimin here in order to lure you to Court. I think they were trying to win the heads of Court’s favor. I’ve reported the fae responsible and made sure the paperwork was walked all the way through to the right office this time. Ah Minsu won’t be able to leave The Dreaming again.”

Yoongi nods. “Good. That’s good.”

~

Jimin is throwing himself into Yoongi’s arm the moment the fae makes it through the portal, the older grunting at the unexpected impact.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Jimin says into Yoongi’s neck. “I was so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to care, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms more securely around Jimin’s back. “I should have been more open, too. I’m sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head, still buried in Yoongi’s neck.

Yoongi huffs a laugh. He turns his head so his nose is tucked into Jimin’s hair and he murmurs, “I think the most important thing is, if this ever happens again, you call me first, hm? Fae bullshit happens, call hyung. Deal?”

Jimin laughs wetly as he nods and tightens his hold. He thinks maybe it’ll be better if he can just stay here, like this, forever. Then he remembers that empty bedroom at the Seelie Court, where time didn’t seem to pass, and he changes his mind. Not forever, but for a long while, maybe.

~

Jimin is wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel when Hoseok lets out a small gasp.

“Do you see the text?” his friend asks without looking up from his phone screen.

“I left my phone in my locker,” Jimin says with a shrug. He throws the towel in the laundry bin and starts zipping up his duffle.

“Friends Only tonight,” Hoseok says. “You coming?”

“Don’t think so,” Jimin says. “I’ve got plans.”

“Plans? What plans?” Hoseok asks, pretending to sound annoyed. Then he finally looks up from his phone screen to see the mischievous smile Jimin is giving him. “Oh, you know, what. Ew. TMI. Never mind. I do not want to know. Have fun. Wear a condom.”

Jimin is already pushing the door to the dance studio open, his duffle bag hanging from an elbow. “You too, hyung!”

~

Namjoon is knocking on the open door to his music studio. Yoongi vaguely wonders when he left it open. Maybe Namjoon used his emergency code for what is clearly not an emergency, judging by the smug look on his face.

“Oh, hyung,” Namjoon is saying, dimples showing from his smile.

“This should be good,” Yoongi mumbles, already turning back to his computer screen.

“There’s a Friends Only tonight,” Namjoon apparently doesn’t let Yoongi’s taciturn mood get him down. “You coming?”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi says, refusing to look away from his work, resolutely clicking his mouse.

Namjoon just laughs as he walks away down the hall.

“Yah!” Yoongi yells. “Shut the door!”

~

Sometimes Jimin forgets he’s no longer at the Seelie Court. Usually, it’s brief, but that moment of panic when he thinks he’s back there—floating in that timeless place—is enough to prick his eyes with tears and send his heart thumping in his chest.

It’s easier though, here, in Seoul, to remind himself that everything is still real and time is passing. He can hear a car out on the road and a bird singing from Yoongi’s madang. He can smell fresh air and petrichor. He can taste the coffee that’s brewing across the way when Yoongi hands him a sturdy mug and the same coffee on Yoongi’s lips when they kiss. He can see the sun’s shadows on the walls of the hanok as it makes its way across the sky. He can feel—everything—the softness of sheets, the heat in the air as summer comes into full swing, the hard earned sweat when he’s working until he gets a choreo looking the way he wants. He’s here. He’s real. Time continues to march forward.

When he first confessed to Yoongi that he was still struggling, that sometimes he forgets where he is and the fear that accompanies that forgetfulness, Yoongi was heartbroken. But soon, the fae had set up speakers throughout the house, for ambient noise so there was never silence and clocks in every room of his— their —hanok.

“Hey, where are you?” Yoongi asks as they get ready for bed.

Jimin hums a question in response, pulling his shirt off before sliding between the sheets and comforter.

“You seem distant,” Yoongi says. He folds himself carefully under the comforter and lays on his side, curling into Jimin. “Everything okay?”

Jimin gives Yoongi a small smile, reaching out to take his hand. The weight of it is heavy, warm between them and helps Jimin know that his next words are nothing but the truth, “Just lost in thought, I guess. But yeah, I’m okay.”

Jimin leans forward to kiss Yoongi then, pouring all his tenderness and love into the press of their mouths together. His warm lips brush against the older man’s. He feels his heart thump in anticipation and longing as he slides his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders and pulls him close. He can feel the slow, steady beat of Yoongi’s heart—a strong rhythm that resonates through Jimin’s chest. There is nothing else in this moment but the two of them, enveloped in tenderness and love.

CHAPTER TEN.

Eunha doubles over her haegeum, resting in her lap, wracked with shivers, as she slips back into her body. Her toes and fingers are numb and she shakes uncontrollably, teeth chattering in her skull. The room is warm, almost hot, she notices vaguely but she barely penetrates past her frozen skin. She squeezes her eyes shut, willing her body to calm down and accept the heat.

“Oh good, you’re back with us,” a man’s voice says from somewhere across the room.

Eunha squints over, body still shaking, to figure out who is here.

Seokjin is standing in the doorway, hand holding onto a mug. His voice may have sounded casual, but the look on his face now is wrinkled in worry.

“I honestly didn’t fully believe you did magic until today,” he says. “I stand corrected.”

Eunha shivers again, body still trying to adjust to being back in the plane of the living. Her hands shake as she tries to settle her haegeum back in its case. Jin brings over a quilt, pale lavender with small yellow stars scattered across in a pattern, like a blanket of stars. The quilt rustles as Jin lays it over Eunha’s shoulders, the fabric whispers as it comes in contact with her skin. He brings the tea and sits cross-legged across from her on the floor.

Eunha sips at the tea, instantly feeling relief from the warmth of the liquid. The quilt is soft and warm, a comforting blanket of safety that envelopes Eunha in its warmth. The mug is heavy and smooth in her hands, solid and reassuring, and she’s happy to note her shaking has diminished. Jin watches her closely, concern etched deep into his features.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Eunha nods, pulling the quilt tighter around herself.

“Yoongi is with his lawyer right now,” Seokjin continues, still softly, staring into the swirl of tea leaves at the bottom of his mug. “There are government officials are sniffing around. I don’t know what for. Yoongi will tell us when he gets home.”

“Mina?” Eunha asks, taking another sip of tea.

“She’s in the living room, reading,” Jin says. “She is so strong. You have done a wonderful job as her eomma.”

“I don’t know about that,” Eunha says, more to herself than to Jin.

“Well,” Jin says, slapping his own knee. “I do. I won’t pretend I know your life. Or what you’ve been through. But I think, considering just what I’ve seen, I know you are doing the best you can.”

Eunha huffs. “I don’t know if that’s good enough.”

Jin leans forward, his kind eyes locking onto hers.

“It is enough,” he says firmly. “You have been through so much, Eunha. You are still here. Remember that.”

Eunha nods, grateful for Jin’s words but still feeling the weight of her own inadequacy. Eunha lets out a shaky breath.

“Thanks,” she whispers, looking down at her tea.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Mina wanders in, book in hand. Without a word, she settles down on Eunha’s lap, nestling herself under the quilt. Eunha smiles softly, running her hand through Mina’s hair. She feels a sense of peace settling over her, feeling the buzz of warmth of Mina’s soul vibrating through her chest and arms. She takes another sip of the tea, feeling the liquid warm her chest, and tucks Mina in a little closer to her body. Eunha looks over at Jin, who has a small smile on his lips.

As they sit there together, the sound of the door opening interrupts their peace. After a few moments, Yoongi peeks in through the open doorway, looking both relieved and exhausted upon seeing everyone comfortably sitting on the floor of the bedroom. His hair is tousled and he has dark circles under his eyes. Eunha feels a jolt of affection for him, surprising herself.

Yoongi sees them and his features soften into a smile.

“Hey,” he says, his voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Eunha replies, giving him a timid smile. “Jin filled me in on what’s been going on.”

Yoongi nods, sitting down next to them and leaning his back against the bed frame. He looks at Eunha and Mina, then over at Jin, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, the length of it falling back around to frame his face around his cheekbones.

“It’s been a long day,” he says.

Eunha nods. She feels Mina shift against her, and she looks down to see that her daughter has fallen asleep in her arms. Eunha gently picks Mina up and stands, being careful not to jostle her too much.

“I’m going to put her to bed,” Eunha says softly.

Both of the men nod and stand up, picking up the empty tea cups as they go. They quietly tip-toe out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

Eunha nestles Mina under the comforter on the bed. As she tucks her daughter in, Eunha feels a wave of exhaustion wash over her, but she knows she needs to stay awake a little longer. She can hear the sound of Yoongi and Jin talking softly in the living room. She feels like she owes more of an explanation. She’d walked into death today. They surely want to know why. She takes one last look at Mina before leaving the room, making sure that her daughter is sleeping soundly.

As she enters the living room, Yoongi and Jin turn to look at her. Both of them look tired. Eunha feels a wave of guilt crash onto her shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

Jin clears his throat. “I’m going to head out now. We have a schedule early tomorrow morning. And a debrief about all of this in the afternoon.”

He waves his hands in the air to indicate what he meant by “all of this.”

“Night, hyung,” Yoongi murmurs, walking Jin to the door.

“Call me if you need anything, huh?” Jin prods as he puts on his shoes.

Eunha watches them from her place in the hallway. A pang of envy at their ease and familiarity with one another makes her catch her breath. She hasn’t had a bond like that with anyone since Daniel, a feeling amplified by her recent visit with him in death.

As Jin leaves, Yoongi’s shoulders sag as he turns to face Eunha. His body is tense and heavy like a leaden weight. His gaze is intense yet gentle, giving her a sense of security. His lips quirk into a sad little smile.

He takes a deep breath before speaking, the exhaustion etched deep into his voice. He asks softly, “What happened today?”

Yoongi leads Eunha over to the couch, careful not to touch her. She sinks into the couch beside him, feeling the weight of the day bearing down heavily on her. She’s careful not to sit too close, aware that Yoongi knows she can feel his soul now. She doesn’t want him feeling awkward or put upon.

She clears her throat, mind searching for a place to start. As she does, her eyes cast around the living room. Despite the minimalist nature of the space and the monotone aesthetic, it’s still looks cozy, lived in. An almost tangible sense of peace permeates the air. It’s like being in the eye of a storm, surrounded by quietness that speaks volumes. Eunha pulls the light blue throw that is folded on the back of the couch onto her lap, remembering the echoes of cold that wracked her body earlier.

“Thank you,” she decides to start with.

Yoongi makes a small choking sound in his throat, probably in surprise. He opens his mouth to respond, but Eunha cuts him off before he has a chance to utter any sounds.

“I know you don’t think you deserve thanks,” she says. “But you’ve done more for me- more for Mina-yah, than anyone has done in a long time. I needed- I needed this time to find my footing again. And, maybe, I don’t think I’m quite there yet. A lot still worries me. I don’t know what the future holds. But I’m feeling more awake and more rested than I have- oh, since I can remember, really.”

Yoongi’s jaw snapped shut somewhere in the middle of Eunha’s impromptu speech and after he knows she’s done, he nods his head slowly.

“I was about Mina’s age, I can’t remember exactly when, when I walked in the river for the first time,” Eunha says after a few minutes of silence.

This time, the choking sound of surprise from Yoongi is unmistakable. So is the little gasp he makes when he tries to suck in air in his shock.

“My uncle had flown all the way to America,” Eunha continues, “to train me. That was a big deal. My parents spent so much time preparing the house and cleaning and trying to prepare me. I didn’t understand then, but I do now, exactly how powerful he is and what that meant to my parents. He was- is the sort to train by throwing a pupil in the deep-end and watching them flail around until they figure out how to swim. I had been learning the symbols and been trained in music since I was a baby. But nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, prepared me for that first walk in death.”

Yoongi reaches his hand out then and lets it hover near Eunha, unsure if his touch is welcome. Eunha takes a deep breath and then grabs his hand, pulling it back to her lap. The familiar, welcome vibrations of his soul are soothing.

“It was terrifying,” Eunha whispers. “There were no souls, no other beings there. It was just my uncle, me, and the greyness of the river. But it called me. The river did. As if it were excited to meet me, to have me.”

Yoongi squeezes his hand around Eunha’s, sending a caring pulse through the soul connection. Eunha smiles down at their connected hands sadly.

“It ages you, especially when you’re that young, you know? That responsibility. That, I don’t know, that pull. Every single time I walk in death, I make a choice. A choice to not heed the call this time. A choice to ignore the insistent tugs of the water. A choice to live.”

“Oh, Eunha.” Yoongi’s voice is barely audible, cracking in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Eunha whispers. “I didn’t mean to burden you with all of this.”

“Not a burden,” Yoongi says firmly. “No more apologies, remember?”

Eunha nods, feeling grateful for his understanding. She takes a deep breath before continuing. She says, “I trained with my uncle until I was 13 years old. I had mastered the basics, I could walk through death blindfolded, and I was well on my way to the advanced spell crafting. Then my uncle had to go back to Seoul. I don’t know why. Something about his business here. I didn’t see him again until just before my 18th birthday, when he came back to finish my training.”

Eunha takes another deep breath and looks out the window. The night lights of Seoul are like stars fallen from the sky, twinkling and shimmering as they dance in the dark. The city lights shine bright and inviting against the velvety night sky, stretching as far as the eye can see. The view is breathtaking, Eunha thinks.

After a minute passes, she refocuses her attention back on their joined hands and the buzz of Yoongi’s soul. She’s positive now that she’s felt him like this, been allowed to have this, she will not be able to let it go.

“I wasn’t happy, with him being back,” Eunha says, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t want to train with him. I wanted nothing to do with death or magic. I wanted to be a music producer. I wanted to go back to Seoul, where I hoped I would fit it.”

She gives Yoongi a wan smile, looking at his face for the first time since they sat down at the couch. She can’t make eye contact though. That feels like too much.

“We fought. A lot. I felt horribly guilty most of the time. I was miserable. Or, well, I felt like I was the most miserable I could ever feel. Of course, looking back, it was not the worst. I was living relatively comfortably for a time. I was working part time at the local gas station after I graduated high school. We- Dan and I- we were saving up to move to Seoul, so I could be a PD.”

Eunha presses her eyes shut, pain flashing through her chest at the memory. She feels Yoongi give her hands a comforting squeeze.

“It wasn’t just a fight with my uncle. My parents were so disappointed in me. They wanted me to go to university and to train. I didn’t want either. Then, after that first year, there was- this incident- no, it was- well, I found out I was pregnant.”

This time, Eunha swallows, and a bright flush appears on her cheeks. The room is spinning a bit and it feels like she’s going to be sick. She focuses on the resonance of Yoongi’s soul where their hands connect.

She clears her throat before continuing with, “When it became clear I didn’t have any interest letting someone else raise the baby- my mom had suggested she raise her, we can’t have someone of our bloodline live outside the family. When they realized I had every intention of raising the baby myself and that I was going to keep avoiding my training, my education. Well, they cut me off. I think they were hoping I would come to my senses without any financial support. I didn’t.”

Yoongi huffs at her last sentences. He sounds more horrified than amused though. Eunha doesn’t look into his face again, afraid of what she’ll see there. Instead, her eyes remain fixed on their hands. Yoongi’s thumb is rubbing soothing arcs across the back of her hand. Small pulses echo along the vibrations of his soul.

There are lots of things Eunha doesn’t say out loud. The disappointment in her mother’s eyes the last time she saw her. Nor the last words her father ever spoke to her, “You’ll regret your choices.” Nor despite the guilt, fear, and sadness, Not the terror of bringing a baby into the world with no money, no family, no means of survival. But also not how Eunha felt the most hopeful and free she’d ever been. Of course, all of that was an illusion.

The silence engulfs them. Eunha lost in memories she’s not ready to say aloud, Yoongi not daring to interrupt.

“I’ve been running for so long,” Eunha says finally. “I’d gotten good at just putting one foot in front of the other. Until- until I was in that club and- despite everything- I don’t know. I can’t explain the feeling. I was worried for all of you, but I also was not worried for Mina. I knew she was safer with you, maybe safer than she’s ever been in her whole life. It made me feel horrible. I’ve done this to her. I’ve done this to you. To everyone around me. Just from putting one foot in front of the other.”

Yoongi stays quiet, watching Eunha as she sucks in her, trying to keep her composure. It’s slipping though. He feels his heart shattering into pieces in his chest, but not letting himself show his agony.

When Eunha’s breathing evens out, she says, “I feel safe here. And I feel stupid for feeling safe here. And then I feel guilty for feeling stupid. And I feel guilty because I keep putting everyone in danger. But I feel safe here and I’m so tired.”

Her voice breaks and she can feel tears brim over and fall down her face, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t want to break the stillness. Then all of the sudden, she’s buzzing, buzzing everywhere. Yoongi invades her space in the most welcome way, hugging her tightly to him. It feels like he’s everywhere. Eunha melts into the embrace, feeling the warmth of Yoongi’s body enveloping her. She feels safe and protected, like nothing could harm her as long as he is here, and she lets herself be lost in the illusion. She buries her head in his chest, inhaling his scent that is uniquely Yoongi. It’s a mix of musk, cologne, and something citrusy sweet.

Yoongi holds onto her tightly, rubbing circles on her back, humming comfortingly low in her ear. She sobs into his chest, letting out all the pain and hurt that she’s been holding onto for years. As she quiets down, she feels him place a soft, warm kiss on her forehead—not unlike how she settles Mina to sleep—and her heart bursts at the feeling of comfort and safety. She knows she’s never going to be able to let this feeling go.

When her tears run out and she finally pulls away from Yoongi, she feels lighter and freer than she has in a long time. She wipes away the tears from her face and looks up at him with a tentative smile. He returns it with a gentle one of his own.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Yoongi tsks at her, gently pushing her hair behind her ear, and Eunha grimaces a little sheepishly. As she leans back, Eunha becomes conscious of how close they are still sitting, their bodies almost touching. She feels her cheeks grow warm, but doesn’t move away. She knows she must look a mess with her red and puffy eyes, but Yoongi only looks at her with warmth and understanding. For a moment, they sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. Then Yoongi’s phone vibrates on the coffee table, interrupting their moment. He picks it up and frowns at the screen.

“I have to get this,” he says, standing up.

Eunha feels the loss immediately. Her skin almost crawls at the stillness, absence of the buzzing vibrations of Yoongi’s soul keenly felt. She wraps her arms around her middle to comfort herself. Yoongi steps away from the couch and goes toward the kitchen. His voice is low, his satoori thickening as he walks. Soon, she’s hearing the clanging of things in the kitchen and it sounds like Yoongi might be cooking something. Eunha feels an endeared smile tug at her lip.

As she waits for Yoongi to finish up his call, Eunha can’t help but let her mind wander. She thinks about the warmth of his embrace and how much it calmed her. It’s been a long time since she’s felt something like that, since she’s felt safe in someone’s arms. She knows that it’s dangerous to let herself lean so heavily on Yoongi, but she can’t help it. Somewhere in the last few weeks, he’s become an anchor.

As she sits there lost in thought, Yoongi emerges from the kitchen with a plate of food. “I hope you’re hungry,” he says with a small smile as he sets the plate down on the coffee table.

Eunha looks down at the food and sees that he’s cooked tteokbokki. The colorful array of sauce and rice cakes glisten in the light, coated with a thick layer of bright red sauce that drips from its edges. She can see flecks of sesame seeds and seaweed interspersed throughout the rice cakes. Her stomach growls at the sight. The spiciness tickles her nose, while the sesame and seaweed add an earthy and salty fragrance. The smell of the red sauce mixed with the rice cakes is heavenly, making Eunha’s mouth water in anticipation.

“I visited Dan today,” Eunha says, staring at the food in her bowl, as if telling the tteokbokki all her secrets. “I needed, I don’t know, I needed reassurance that what I’m doing now isn’t a mistake.”

She can feel the weight of Yoongi’s eyes on her, but she refuses to look up from the bowl in her hands. She can almost imagine him wondering what mistakes she might be making now.

“He warned me that there is trouble, but I guess we already knew that,” she continues.

“We can talk more about it tomorrow. Eat now,” Yoongi says, sitting down with his own bowl in his hands.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I’ll eat well,” she says as she starts to pick at the tteokbokki with the pair of chopsticks Yoongi handed her. The first bite explodes in her mouth, the spiciness dancing across her tongue. It’s delicious, and she can feel Yoongi’s eyes on her, watching her eat.

“This is amazing,” she compliments him between bites. Yoongi makes a small grunt noise to acknowledge the compliment.

They eat in comfortable silence, the sound of their utensils clinking against their plates the only noise filling the room. Eunha can feel her energy levels rising with each bite of food, and by the time she’s done eating, she feels re-energized and ready to face whatever comes next.

“Who was on the phone?” Eunha asks after she’s finished her last bite, desperate for a bit of normalcy.

“My eomma,” Yoongi says. “I normally call her on the weekend. She was worried because she hadn’t heard from me.”

Eunha feels a tightness in her chest and manages to say, “Oh.”

“She’d like you,” Yoongi says into his bowl.

Eunha watches the pink dust Yoongi’s cheeks. “Really?”

Yoongi hums in assent and then asks, “Are you done? I can put these in the dishwasher. It’s pretty late.”

Eunha nods and hands Yoongi her bowl. As Yoongi walks to the kitchen to wash their dishes, Eunha feels a sense of calm wash over her. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, feeling the knots in her stomach loosen. It’s not a feeling she’s used to experiencing.

When Yoongi comes back to the living room, he sits down next to Eunha. She can feel his warmth next to her and for a moment, she wonders what it would be like to just lean over and kiss him. She quickly pushes the thought away, knowing that it’s not a thought she should entertain.

“Thank you for dinner,” Eunha says softly. “It was delicious.”

Yoongi grins at her. “I’m glad you liked it.”

His grin brings back the thought she had just dismissed and suddenly nerves flood her whole body. She swallows and stands up. “You’re right. It’s late. I should, uh, I should go to bed. Good night.”

Then she bows at him, cringing at herself as she does it. She knows she’s gone bright red. So, she runs out of the living room, only slowing once she reaches the guest bedroom door. Once she’s inside the bedroom, a glance tells her Mina is still sound asleep. She turns to shut the door and softly bangs her forehead against the smooth wood in frustration. Well, that could not have been more awkward, she thinks.

~

Counselman Yong Songjin roars, pounding his fist on the table. His black tailored business suit fitting him perfectly, his black hair in a standard business cut staying perfectly coiffed, even as he bends over his desk in anger. His eyes glow red, betraying his vampiric self. He normally has such manifestations of his nature under control, but with the only other person in the room being his ghoul, he can forgo such niceties and let the mask slip.

Yong Suhwa nods solemnly and lowers her head respectfully. Her dark navy pencil skirt, sharp features, and the no-nonsense way she holds her body showing that her master’s rage is something she’s been used to for decades. “I don’t have an answer yet, Counselman. But I will soon. I’ll find out who is responsible.”

Counselman Yong sighs, pacing back and forth in front of the sky-high windows. He fumes as he looks at Seoul’s sparkling lights, as if they are all mocking him, as if the whole city is laughing at him. Counselman Yong takes a deep breath, his head spinning. He straightens his suit and strides back to the table, trying to collect his thoughts.

“This is insane,” he mutters under his breath. “I want the guest list for the dinner. I want to know who we invited that would dare betray us like this.”

He roughly runs a hand through his hair, lost in thought. “That video puts us in danger with the other covens. Find out who did it. And delete it from everywhere on the internet. I don’t care that it’s already trending.”

Yong Suhwa remains silent, her face blank. She knows her master and she understands this isn’t the time for words. She carefully shifts, already thinking of ways to mitigate this before all their hard work is undone.

“We already have the name of the guest who leaked the video,” the ghoul says, noting an email that just arrived in her inbox. “A businessman. A Kong Jakyung. Runs an import/export business.”

“Bring him here. Now. I want to know why he did this and then I want him dead,” the Counselman responds.

Yong Suhwa nods, already calling someone on her phone.

As Counselman Yong waits for the arrival of Kong Jakyung, he feels his blood boil with anger. How dare this businessman betray him and leak private footage to the public? Clearly, the work he’s been doing to either engender trust and loyalty or fear is not working as well as he’d like. He would have to up his game. And make an example of this Kong Jakyung.

Within the hour, Kong Jakyung is brought to the office, kneeling before Counselman Yong, his head hanging low in shame and fear. He’s an older man, still wearing a dark navy suit, despite the late hour. His face is gaunt, a bruise blossoming on his cheek. He did not come quietly. Counselman Yong stares at him coldly, his red eyes glinting in the dim light. He stands from his seat, towering over the distraught businessman.

“I have only one question for you, Kong Jakyung-ssi,” he states. His voice is as cold as his stare, giving life to the threat underlying his words. “Why would you betray us like this?”

Kong Jakyung flinches, his eyes flickering to Yong Suhwa before quickly looking back at the Counselman. “I-I’m sorry, Counselman. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Counselman Yong scoffs, unimpressed. “Do not insult my intelligence with such blatant lies. You knew exactly what you were doing when you leaked that video.”

Kong Jakyung fidgets, his eyes darting around the room, looking for someone to save him. “I-I didn’t have a choice. They were going to kill me if I didn’t do it.”

“They? Who are they?” The Counselman demands, taking a step forward.

“I can’t say,” Kong Jakyung says faintly. “They’ll kill me.”

The room is deathly silent for a long moment before Counselman Yong says, menacing voice barely loud enough to hear, “And you assume I will not kill you if you don’t tell me everything you know?”

“Puh- puh- please!” Kong Jakyung wails. He brings his hands, palms together, in front of his own chest. “I beg you. I have a family.”

“You should have thought of them before now, I think, Kong Jakyung-ssi,” Counselman Yong states. “Tell me who instructed you to leak the video.”

“So- So- So Chongyul-ssi,” Kong Jakyung wails, prostrating himself before the Counselman. “So Chongyul-ssi told me to leak the video.”

Counselman Yong’s eyes flick to Yong Suhwa in question. She shakes her head, not recognizing the name, but her fingers are already dancing across her tablet.

“Is that all you have?” the Counselman asks the crying mess of a man before him.

“I swear, that’s all, I don’t know anymore,” the man begs.

“Very well,” Counselman Yong says.

The man slumps in relief. Then, faster than the human businessman can track, the vampire is upon him, yanking his head back and to the side by his hair. He strikes then, sinking his teeth into the Kong Jakyung’s trembling neck, the man’s blood spurting into his mouth. The businessman lets out a brief, pained scream, before his breath stops all together and his eyes glaze over. The Counselman doesn’t let up from his prey, draining every last drop of blood from him before releasing his head and watching the lifeless body collapse onto the floor with a thud.

Yong Suhwa watches calmly as the Counselman wipes his bloodied mouth with a handkerchief.

“Dispose of him, but make it public. I want an example made of him. People brought into my circle of trust need to know not to cross me,” the Counselman says, gesturing to the body on the floor. “And get me everything you can on this So Chongyul-ssi.”

Yong Suhwa nods, already typing away on her tablet. She knows what the Counselman wants—he wants revenge. And she will make sure to give him everything he needs to get it. As she works, she can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement run through her at the Counselman’s display of power. She’s been serving him for decades now, and she knows what he’s capable of, but there’s something about tonight’s events that make her heart race with anticipation.

As the clean-up crew comes quietly into the office to remove the corpse, Counselman Yong turns to his ghoul. “Also, we need to do something drastic to distract the public. We need a scandal, a diversion- who is famous now in Seoul? The bigger, the better.”

The ghoul lifts her tablet, tapping away quickly on the screen. “Politician, perhaps?”

“No, no, too close to us,” he says with a shake of his head. “A celebrity?”

“What about musicians?” Yong Suhwa says, clicking on the trends through the tablet’s Naver app.

“Musicians?” Counselman Yong eyes her, looking skeptical.

“Do you know BTS?” she asks.

The counselman grunts in recognition. His mind is already whirling with the ways this could work in their favor. “Do they have any connections to the other covens? I don’t want this mess putting more heat on us from the other families.”

“No, they are notorious for not working for vampires,” Yong Suhwa says, still clicking through articles on her tablet. “In fact, this might be a good way to kill two birds, sir.”

“Make it happen, make sure it can’t be traced back to this office,” he says with a sharp nod.

Yong Suhwa nods briskly, tapping away some more on her tablet.

After a few moments, Counselman Yong straightens himself, looking out the window at Seoul again. “I had been so looking forward to the work ahead of us. We have made so much progress. We can’t falter now.”

Yong Suhwa steps up behind her master. Her voice is low and gentle. “We won’t falter, Counselman. We will find out who did this and we’ll make things right. We’ll use all the resources at our disposal.”

She places a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “And as for BTS, they are one of the hottest acts in Korea now. Their popularity is skyrocketing and they have a massive international following. If we can get them involved in some sort of scandal that we control, it could be an effective smokescreen to divert attention away from the video. We need to make sure every detail is airtight; there can’t be any loopholes for anyone to exploit.”

Counselman Yong nods slowly, considering her words. “Yes, that might just work. But be careful. We can’t afford any more missteps.”

Yong Suhwa bows her head respectfully before stepping back to continue her work on the tablet. The room falls silent as she begins planning their next move. She quickly searches through the various articles and reports on the group, noting their weekly activities and other engagements they have coming up. Walking towards the door, her fingers moving deftly over the screen, jumping from social media platform to social media platform, as she plots out how BTS will take the heat off their coven.

As she departs, Yong Songjin resumes his pacing through his office. His fury still pumps through his veins like molten lava, igniting a fire in his soul that won’t easily be extinguished. He is not just Counselman Yong Songjin, he is a vampire whose wrath will rain down upon Seoul and make it bow before him or face certain destruction.

~

Yoongi sets his phone down next to his glasses on the bedside table before rubbing the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. He knows he should sleep. Today was a very long day and tomorrow will most likely be just as long.

As he thinks back to the conversation he and Eunha had just had in the living room, he feels his heart splinter. Eunha and Mina both have already been through so much in their lives. Yoongi, with all his wealth and sway of public opinion, wish he could be more effective in protecting them.

Eunha had looked so small and vulnerable. He looks down at his own hands in his lap, remembering the feeling of her hands in his. Yoongi sits on his bed, closes his eyes, tilts his head back towards the ceiling, hitting the headboard as he groans, imagining what it would be like if he could just reach out and hold her anytime. If he could be the person to hold her.

He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts of Eunha out of his mind. But they persist, creeping up on him like a vine until he can’t ignore them anymore. Remember the feel of her forehead against his lips, he wonders what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her lips against his, and his heart rate picks up at the thought. Yoongi remembers the softness of her skin against his own. Yoongi bit his lip, unable to stifle the small smile that formed on his face from the warmth that filled his chest.

Without thinking, he stands up from the bed and walks over to the window. The cityscape is beautiful at this time of night, but he can’t focus on anything else but Eunha. He imagines her standing next to him, her head on his shoulder as they both take in the view. He leans over and presses his forehead against the cool glass. After a moment, he turns away from the window and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in his head.

He groans in frustration, throwing himself back onto his bed. He knows he should get some sleep. Yet, sleep eludes him. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind.

He decides to give up on sleep with his head so loud. He quietly leaves his bedroom and walks across the hall to his studio. If he can’t sleep, he might as well get some work done. The computer whirs on comfortingly after he presses the spacebar on his keyboard. The midis, too, blink on in anticipation of what’s to come.

As he begins to tinker with the different instruments and sounds on his computer, Yoongi hums softly to himself, lost in the music. His fingers glide effortlessly across the keys of the digital piano, trying out different sounds and adding layers of instruments until the song takes shape. He already has an idea of where Eunha can fit her own distinct sound into the song, a perfect blend of traditional Korean melodies and modern hip hop beats influenced by Western culture. All that was missing now was Eunha’s touch.

The hours fly by without him noticing, and soon he has crafted the perfect track. He leans back in his chair, exhausted but satisfied with what he has created. The restlessness that had plagued him earlier now seems to fade away, replaced by a sense of calm. With each note he perfects, he can feel his worries slipping away, replaced by a sense of contentment.

It’s only when the first rays of sunlight begin to creep into the room that Yoongi realizes how much time has passed. He stretches his arms above his head, feeling the satisfying ache in his muscles. As he gets up to stretch his legs, he feels a twinge in his back and groans, realizing he’s been hunched over his computer for hours. He takes a deep breath and rubs his sore neck before noticing Eunha standing at the door, her hair tousled from sleep. She raises an eyebrow at him, quirking her mouth into a small smile.

“Good morning,” she says softly.

Yoongi blinks in surprise before returning her smile. “Morning. Breakfast?”

“I’ll help,” she replies, nodding sleepily.

CHAPTER NINE.

Much to Yoongi’s surprise, once the cake is distributed among the children, the whole party quiets down. Each child murmuring happily while stuffing the sugar and frosting into their mouths. Mina sits nearby at a small child size table with other young party goers quietly eating her slice of cake. Yoongi watches fondly as she carefully keeps herself in her own bubble while still being near the other kids.

Where the hell did Kim Seokjin go? Yoongi gives the room a cursory glance, but his comrade is nowhere to be seen. Yoongi scoffs under his breath at the audacity of tricking him into babysitting at a kids’ birthday party and then leaving him alone at said birthday party.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and decides to make the most of his time at the party. He walks over to Mina’s table and sits down next to her.

“Hey there, kid, how’s the cake?” Yoongi asks with a small smile.

Mina glances at him before returning to finishing up the last bites of her cake. Yoongi chuckles to himself.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before Yoongi spots Seokjin coming in from another part of the apartment. He’s smiling and chatting with an older woman that Yoongi thinks might be Jin’s aunt. Yoongi contents himself with sending daggers to his hyung with his eyes.

“Yoongi-chi!” Seokjin says amiably, walking over to the short table Yoongi and Mina are sitting at. “Having a good time?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, “You left me alone with a bunch of hyperactive children and, worse, their gossiping mothers, what do you think?”

Jin chuckles under his breath and attempts to plaster an apologetic look on his face. He says, “Just catching up with some family members. Sorry for leaving you alone for a bit. Besides you have Mina-yah!”

Yoongi grumbles but decides not to dwell on it. Both men silently watch Mina as she finishes up her cake and pulls her book out of her pocket.

“You brought a book to a party?” Jin asks in exaggerated incredulity.

Yoongi chuckles. Mina ignores them both.

They sit quietly for a while, watching Mina read and the other children start to wake up from their cake-induced reveries. The children begin to run around the apartment, loud and hyper. Seokjin smiles fondly at them, while Yoongi merely shakes his head in amusement.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the room, followed by the sound of clinking glass shards and a panicked cry from one of the mothers. Yoongi quickly turns to see what has happened and notices that one of the children had spilled a drink onto the floor causing it to shatter. He looks around to Mina, but she seems unbothered by this incident as she continues reading her book. Yoongi smiles at her concentration before looking to see if his help is needed in cleaning it up. It seems Jin and his aunt have things under control.

Once they finish cleaning up, the party begins to wind down and everyone says their goodbyes. Yoongi stands up and stretches his legs. The kids are getting ready to leave with their parents, and Mina is packing up her book. Seokjin is chatting with the other mothers, thanking them for coming and saying goodbye to the kids.

Yoongi walks over to Mina and crouches down next to her. “Hey, I hope you had a good time,” he says, smiling at her.

She looks up from her book and nods once.

“Let’s go?” he asks and holds out his hand palm up in offering.

She tucks her book into the large pocket of her dress and reaches out to tuck her tiny hand in his.

Jin decides to go with them back to the apartment, rather than stay with the remaining gossiping mothers by himself. The three of them reach Yoongi’s car and he unlocks it with a beep. Mina waits for help getting into her seat in the back, her feet not even close to reaching the floor. Yoongi chuckles to himself at how small she looks in his big SUV.

As they drive, Mina is quiet, as usual, retreating back into her book. Jin is boisterously filling the silence, throwing jokes towards the back seat in hopes of getting a giggle—or any noise at all, really—out of Mina. He tells Yoongi he’s positive that one of these days a joke will land. Yoongi pats his shoulder in mock comfort.

When they arrive in the lobby of the apartment, they are met by two men in matching navy blue suits having a stand-off with the building security.The concierge behind the counter is standing, arms crossed, looking perturbed by the drama unfolding in their lobby. The suited men stand in their shiny black shoes and stern expressions on their faces, their eyes predatory and fixed on the security guard. There is a deafening silence, each movement carefully measured and calculated. No one speaks, but the tension in the air is palpable.

“Ah, sir,” one of the building security lights up in recognition as they enter the lobby. “These, uh, gentlemen are inquiring after you.”

“This is highly irregular,” the concierge scoffs from behind their desk, but doesn’t move.

The two men in suits turn to face Yoongi, ignoring the concierge. One of them tugs slightly at his jacket, eyeing Yoongi up and down before saying, “Min Yoongi-ssi?”

Yoongi pauses for a moment and takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. With his exhale he mentally dons his ‘public’ persona, ready to deal with whatever bullshit these men have in store. He steps carefully forward, pulling Mina behind himself, keeping her hand in his. He nods curtly at the suits and says, “Yes, I’m Min Yoongi.”

The two men exchange knowing looks before stepping forward with identical serious expressions on their faces. Then one pulls out an ID wallet from his inner pocket. He shows it to Yoongi. Yoongi squints at the ID, noting the government seal, but the man pulls it back before he can read any of the details.

“We’re here on government business,” the taller man in suits says, tapping the badge he just showed him for emphasis. “We require your presence for some questions.” 

It’s clear from their demeanor and tone they are expecting cooperation as opposed to resistance. They don’t look intimidating exactly but there’s something about them that puts Yoongi’s guard up higher than usual—from the way one of them keeps glancing behind him to how the other man’s fingers twitch near his pocket for a split second when they take another step closer towards him.

Yoongi feels Mina’s grip tightening on his hand. He squeezes back, trying to send reassurance through this palm. He wonders for a brief moment if Mina can feel souls by touch the way her mother can. He files that question away for later. 

Turning to Jin, who had come up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him at some point during the conversation, Yoongi nods, silently telling him to take Mina upstairs. Jin tilts his head in understanding and holds his hand out for Mina.

“Come on, Mina-yah,” Jin says calmly. “Let’s go find your eomma.”

Mina pauses for a moment and Yoongi is sure she’s not going to let go of his hand and go to Jin. She looks up at Yoongi who smiles and nods with some kind of confidence he doesn’t actually feel. She looks back at Jin and then steps toward him. Slowly, slowly she releases Yoongi’s hand.

He can’t feel souls, but his hand still feels empty at the loss.

Mina doesn’t take Jin’s hand but still follows him through the lobby toward the elevator. Yoongi watches them go before turning his attention back to the men in suits.

“We can have this conversation at my lawyer’s office. I’ll give you the address and you can meet me there,” Yoongi says definitively.

The men exchange a quick glance before nodding in agreement. “Very well, we will follow you there.”

Yoongi nods curtly, hands them a business card from his wallet with his lawyer’s information on it, and turns to walk towards the exit. He can feel the weight of their stares on his back as he walks, but he keeps his cool and heads towards his car. Once inside, he takes a deep breath and tries to relax. He has dealt with situations like this before, but there is still a sense of unease that lingers in the back of his mind.

Before he pulls out of the parking garage he sends text messages to the BTS group chat, his lawyer, their manager, and security. He pauses trying to decide if he should send something to Eunha as well, but decides Jin will update her better than a text message can.

He drives to his lawyer’s office in silence, the men in suits following him in their own car. As they pull up to the building, Yoongi gets out of his car and walks towards the door without looking back at the men who are following him. His lawyer, Mr. Park, meets him at the door.

“Min Yoongi-ssi,” Mr. Park greets him politely with a bow.

Yoongi nods in acknowledgement before turning to the two men. He says, “These are, I’m sorry I didn’t catch your names or what agency you work for.”

The taller man speaks up, “It’s not important at the moment, Mr. Min. We’re here on official government business and that’s all you need to know.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at the man’s curt response, cutting a glance to his own lawyer who looks annoyed, but decides not to push the issue for now. He follows Mr. Park into his office and takes a seat, gesturing for the men to do the same.

“Before we begin, may I ask what this is in regards to?” Mr. Park asks calmly.

The shorter man speaks up this time, “We’re investigating a matter that involves someone Min Yoongi-ssi had previous contact with.”

While keeping his outward appearance as neutral as possible, Yoongi’s mind whirls through everything that has happened recently, trying to connect anything to something that would have the government knocking on his door. He immediately remembers the conversation in his dining room with Eunha. The words “unsanctioned murder” flit through his mind. Why would the government care about the death of a vampire though? 

“I see,” Mr. Park says. “Well, I will advise Min Yoongi-ssi to not answer any of your questions until I have heard what they are. If I deem it appropriate, he may answer. I would prefer these questions were given to us in writing, but I understand you may be under time pressure. Not that we would know that for certain, since you’ve not told us what this investigation is about.”

The two men scrunch their faces in annoyance, but after a glance at each other, it’s clear neither is going to argue with the lawyer.

Yoongi leans back in his chair, feeling a sense of ease wash over him knowing that Mr. Park is in control. He lets the two men stare at him in silence, their eyes piercing and unyielding. 

As the moments tick by, Yoongi’s mind wanders back to Mina and Eunha. He wonders what Eunha is doing right now and if she’s aware of what’s happening. He knows Jin well enough to know he’s taking care of everything. Still, he can’t help but feel a sense of unease and worry for everyone. His hands itch to pull out the phone his buried in his pocket and check the messages.

The silence in the room continues to stretch on, each passing second feeling longer than the one before it. Yoongi can see the two men getting more agitated by the lack of response from him and Mr. Park, but trying to decide on the best questions to ask. He can practically hear their thoughts racing to find a way to get what they want out of him.

Finally, Mr. Park breaks the silence once more. “We will need concrete and specific questions from you in order to proceed with this conversation,” he says calmly.

The taller man leans forward in his chair, a calculated glint of determination in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “First, do you know anything about a Park Donghyun-ssi?”

Yoongi blinks at the two men. He glances at his lawyer, who tilts his head indicating Yoongi can speak if he chooses to. Yoongi says, “I’ve heard the name, but I’ve never met him.”

“So, it wouldn’t mean anything to you if we were to inform you that Park Donghyun-ssi was found dead this morning, caught on a bridge piling in the Han?”

Yoongi winces at the imagery. “I would say that sounds gruesome, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“Alright,” Mr. Park breaks in before anyone else can speak again. “I think that’s enough. If this is a murder inquiry, I am going to have to ask you to make an appointment during business hours and to come with a warrant for interrogation.”

The men exchange a glance again, clearly frustrated with the lack of information they were able to extract from Yoongi. As they stand up to leave, the taller man turns to Yoongi and says, “We’ll be in touch, Min Yoongi-ssi, Mr. Park.”

Yoongi simply nods and watches Mr. Park show the men out of the office.

Once he’s back he says, “Unfortunately, I’m not privy to government investigations, so I don’t know what they hope to accomplish with this act. We’ll just have to wait and see if anything else comes up.”

There’s a knock at the door and a moment later Kim Minkyu steps in the office. Yoongi settles into his chair. He knows he’s going to be a while filling in the head of security on everything that just happened and coming up with a strategy for moving forward.

Soon Na Minjae, BTS’s head manager, and Namjoon arrive to also be caught up and brought into the strategy meeting. With the suits gone and some of the direct pressure taken off of him, Yoongi furtively sneaks glances at his phone, checking for text messages.

He scrambles when he finally gets a notification. A text message from Jin telling Yoongi to call.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Yoongi says, standing to step out of the office as he talks. He’s dialing Jin’s number before the door is even shut behind him.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asks.

Jin gives out a pulse of a laugh, as if he’s nervous. Adrenaline surges through Yoongi’s veins.

“Everything is fine, Yoongi-yah,” Jin says. “But, uh, Eunha is here and she seems a bit...preoccupied?”

“What does that mean, hyung?” Yoongi asks, mind drawing blanks as to what could be happening at his apartment.

Jin lets out a slow exhale before he says, “Well, uh, what, uh, what does it look like when someone has gone into death?”

~

“Hey, Mina, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re so beautiful.”

Eunha carefully takes a picture with her phone, eyes watering as Daniel meets Mina for the first time. He doesn’t even notice, eyes only for the small green blanketed bundle carefully nestled in his arms. His smile is wide. His face is partially hidden behind the long brown hair that’s hanging to his shoulders, concealing his profile as he looks down at the baby. Eunha lets her eyes wander over his blue cardigan hanging open to reveal the worn white tee underneath. His jeans, ripped at the knees, end with his equally worn black boots. What strikes Eunha the most as she silently appraises her best friend, is how very young he looks, even while holding someone much younger than himself.

After several minutes, he finally looks up to Eunha, his eyes full of tears, “She’s beautiful, E. She’s clearly all you.”

Eunha lets out a wet laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

Eunha can feel her cheeks warming pink from the attention. She looks around the quiet hospital room trying to distract herself from the awkwardness she’s feeling. A light scent of baby powder and freshness fills the air, with the faintest hint of antiseptic that lingers in the background. The room itself has sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lighting. There’s no flowers, no balloons, no indications of the joyous arrival of new life. She glances back at the pair sitting next to her hospital bed. Dan’s eyes are already back on the baby in his arms. Mina stares up at his face with black eyes, as if waiting for him.

“I don’t know, there might be a little of her dad in there,” Eunha says.

“Let’s hope not,” Daniel chuckles darkly. Eunha feels her heart twist a little in her chest.

“Dan,” she says.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s not right now. I’m just glad you’re both okay,” he says.

Eunha frowns, but nods. She watches as her best friend runs a soft finger tip along Mina’s pudgy cheek.

“What did the doctors say? When can you both leave?” he asks.

Eunha rubs a tired hand across her eyes, feeling a twinge of pain in her abdomen. “Uh, well, they want to observe me for a couple more days, I think. I hate it here, Dan.”

“I know. Just a couple more days, okay?” he says as he reaches a comforting hand to pat Eunha’s thigh over the thin hospital blanket.

“It’s so noisy here,” Eunha whines.

As if to punctuate her complaints, the hospital room’s silence is deafening and oppressive. There is a low hum of machines and beeping monitors, but underneath lies an eerie stillness that permeates the room. 

After a minute, Dan snorts, shattering the tense moment. “I see what you mean.”

“You know what I mean,” Eunha says with a pout. Her brow furrows in thought. “It’s them. They are loud.”

“Who?” Dan says, clearly only half listening as he makes another smiley face at the baby in his arms. He glances up at Eunha when she doesn’t respond. He smiles at her pout. “Oh, the dead, you mean? Yeah, I guess hospitals would suck for that.”

Then his smile gets bigger, seeming to overtake his whole face, his long hair falling around it in a frame. He lifts his arms slightly to show off the babe in his arms, “But who cares about them when you have this beautiful baby right here?”

“You’re dumb,” Eunha says with a laugh. “She is pretty great, though. Isn’t she?”

“The best, E,” Dan agrees with a smile.

Tears burn in Eunha’s eyes as she tries again to nurse Mina back to sleep. The baby had woken up an hour ago and still will not stop fussing. She’s not wailing—not yet—, but she’s whining and the tears are on their way.

“Please, please, just eat a little, baby,” Eunha murmurs into the little girl’s head. The babe’s head squiggles around, refusing to latch onto anything, even though she clearly wants it. A tear tracks down Euha’s cheek as she sends her pleas to ears too young to understand.

The doctors had weaned Eunha off the heavy duty painkillers earlier in the afternoon. Now, at 3 in the morning, Eunha was tired and sore. The site of the incision is shooting pain every time she tries to shift the upset baby in her arms. She knows she needs to call the nurse for more pain medication. And maybe help with nursing, because this is clearly not going well, but Eunha is just so tired.

As if summoned, a dowdy nurse with large pink-rimmed glasses steps quietly into the room.

“Ah, see we’re awake in here,” the nurse says kindly. “I’m just going to do some quick vitals. Don’t mind me.”

“Could- am I due for more pain medication?” Eunha asks faintly. She feels self-conscious knowing that she probably looks as tired as she feels and her baby is clearly not happy. She feels like she’s failing and Mina is only two days old.

“Let me check your chart, dear,” the nurse says with a small smile. “I see Baby is feeling a bit fussy tonight? Are we hungry?”

Eunha nods, looking back down at Mina who is now screwing up her face like she’s going to properly start screaming. Eunha feels her own face scrunching up to match.

“How many wet diapers did we have today?” the nurse asks, glancing at the computer screen. “Ah, looks like you are due for more ibu, yep. I’ll grab that for you. But first—”

The nurse steps over and coos at Mina in Eunha’s arms. Then she reaches out and tilts the baby’s head gently, lining up her mouth with Eunha’s leaking nipple. With the same confident gentleness, she pushes the baby forward until she’s shoved into her source of food. Immediately Mina latches on and starts chugging.

“Ouch,” Eunha says as she feels like her chest is being stabbed by a thousand sharp knives.

“The pain will go away soon, dear,” the nurse replies kindly. “I’ll get those ibus for you.”

Mina has inhaled two painful breasts worth of milk and fallen into a deep sleep before the nurse is even back from the pharmacy cabinet down the hall.

The nurse is back looking at the chart on the computer screen. “We need to get you up and walking tomorrow. Didn’t they have you walking today?”

“Uh, no?” Eunha looks at the nurse in confusion. “They said they were worried about me falling.”

The nurse clicks through something on screen and makes an exasperated sound. “I’m making a note. You need to be walking after abdominal surgery.”

Eunha nods faintly and can’t imagine trying to walk with the amount of pain she’s in. The nurse fixes thick, hot pads around Eunha’s legs explaining they help with blood circulation. Eunha watches on in perplexed exhaustion.

“Sleep now,” the nurse says. “I’ve left some instructions for the morning nurses. I’ll be back in two hours to check on you. You really gave us a fright, you know.”

Without any other explanation, the nurse bustles out of the room again. Eunha decides to ignore her own confusion and sleep before Mina decides she’s hungry again.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Dan, it fucking hurts,” Eunha says heatedly. She watches her best friend doubling over in his hospital chair in laughter.

When he can finally breathe again, he says, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I think I’m hysterical. Going into shock. Yeah, that’s it.”

Eunha rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays at the corners of her lips. She can’t help but feel grateful for the distraction from the pain and exhaustion.

“They never tell you about this part,” Eunha murmurs as she settles Mina back in the bassinet next to her bed.

“The painful part?” Dan asks, his voice softening as he watches Eunha carefully.

“Yeah,” Eunha sighs, settling back against the pillows and wincing at the pain in her lower abdomen. “They tell you about the miracle of birth and all that bullshit, but they never mention how much it hurts afterwards. They never talk about how wrong it can go.”

“I know,” Dan says, sobering up slightly.

A doctor strolls into the room with a nurse flanking him. The hospital is a small one, being in rural Oregon, after all. This doctor, who Eunha cannot for the life of her remember his name right now, is the one she’s been seeing since she finally broke down and started getting check ups at 5 months along. After the denial had finally succumbed to the reality of her baby bump. She thinks it might be Anderson or Andrews? Not that it mattered, she’s only seen him a handful of minutes together over the last several months and he wasn’t present at all for the delivery. Her fault for going into labor on a weekend.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Choi,” the doctor says affably, butchering the pronunciation of her last name horribly. “Just here to check on you and make a couple of care decisions.”

Daniel sits up straighter, eyeing the doctor, and Eunha nods.

The doctor sits on the stool in front of the computer screen and clicks into Eunha’s medical records. The nurse busies herself with checking IV fluids and takes Eunha’s vitals.

“I am happy to see these numbers,” the doctor says. He twirls his stool around to face the hospital bed. “I don’t think we’ll need to do another transfusion.”

“Transfusion?” Eunha asks, blinking.

“You needed a blood transfusion during delivery. You probably don’t remember,” the doctor says matter-of-factly. “I don’t think you’ll need more though.”

Feeling stupid and like her body isn’t her own, all Eunha can do is nod. She watches as the doctor and nurse check her over and then another nurse comes in to check over Mina. Dan asks some questions, which the doctor answers. Eunha feels as if she’s a spectator, watching from outside the room, unable to hear anything happening inside.

As the flurry of activity dies down and the medical professionals shuffle out of the room, Dan turns to Eunha with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sensing her unease.

“I just feel so out of control,” Eunha says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

Dan nods, his face serious. “But you’re doing it.”

Eunha sighs, running a hand over her face. “I know. It’s just overwhelming.”

“I get it,” Dan says softly. “But you’ve got this, E.”

Eunha smiles weakly at him.

“It’s just,” Dan says, his voice trailing off in thought. “I can’t believe this is real. There’s a whole little human to take care of now.”

“What if I mess up? What if I can’t handle it? What if my parents are right? I’m so fucking young.” Eunha feels the weight of anxiety blanketing her. In some ways, she’s grateful for that weight. It’s better than the feeling of complete disconnect she had moments ago.

“All that matters is that you try your best. That’s all Mina needs. And you have me. We have our plan, which is made only slightly more complicated by the extra small person. But the plan is still good. You know I’ll always be here for you both. We’ll figure this out,” Daniel says, reaching out and squeezing Eunha’s hand.

Eunha nods, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes again. “Thank you, Dan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Dan smiles softly. “You’ll never have to find out.”

“Thank you,” Eunha whispers, her voice choked with emotion.

Dan leans over and kisses her forehead gently before resting his head on the side of the bed.

~

“What’s up, E?”

“Hey, Dan,” Eunha says quietly at the blurry soul in front of her. “Fuck.”

Tears well up in her eyes immediately and she’s faintly aware of them running off her face, dripping into the icy waters at her waist.

Even though the soul in front of her is blurry, features distorted, she can feel him smiling at her. It’s almost enough to warm her numb extremities—she realizes how horribly out of practice she is with her magic that she’s feeling this cold at only the first gateway. Eunha allows herself the count of seven to bask in her friend’s presence. She doesn’t allow herself more time than that, the summoning spell has a limited duration, after all.

Daniel’s soul floats quietly. Waiting. Eunha knows that partly the way the spell works—he has limited ways he can interact without more prompting. But she also knows he is—was—considerate like that.

“I’m feeling lost, Dan,” Eunha says after she reaches the count of seven in her head. “I thought- I thought if I just kept my head down, did my work, was a good eomma for Mina- I thought- fuck.”

The shimmering light of the soul embraces Eunha in what would be a hug if she were in the plane of the living. He says, “You know you are doing your best, Eunha. That’s all you’ve ever done.”

“I’m so tired and so lost. I feel like I’m failing,” Eunha says, watching more of her tears fall to mix with the icy river below.

“Mina is alive and loves you.”

“She’s in danger. Everyone I ever get close to lives in danger because of me,” Eunha grits out, trying to keep from all out sobbing. “This is all my fault.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? Do I know that?” Eunha recognizes she’s getting a bit hysterical, but she can’t seem to stop herself. “Fuck, Dan. You’re here! You’re fucking here!”

“Everyone has their time to live and their time to die. You know this. You don’t decide that fate,” Daniel’s voice is serious, far more serious than he ever sounded in life. “Life is a tricky thing. We never know how much time we have. You are not the decider of our life’s clock, Eunha.”

“How do I live when everyone I love dies?” Eunha chokes out. She grips her fingers around her haegeum tighter, to keep her hand from trembling. 

Daniel’s soul pauses for a moment before answering. Eunha can see in her mind’s eye the familiar pensive look her best friend would have when he was trying to solve a particularly hard problem. “You keep living, Eunha. You keep going because that’s what life is. You honor their memory by living your life to the fullest, by making the most of the time you have left.”

Eunha shudders as she pulls in a choppy breath. “I feel so lost.”

“You’re not lost, Eunha. The path is in front of you. You just need to keep moving forward,” Daniel says gently. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t let yourself be consumed by the fear of losing others. Live in the present and cherish every moment you have with the people you love.”

Eunha nods slowly, tears still streaming down her face.

She can feel her friend’s smile.

“Now, Eunha, I have an important message for you,” the soul continues. Eunha feels the adrenalin set off in her veins at this change of script. As far as she knows, he should not be able to discuss things not brought up by her. He’s only a shadow of his soul, after all.

“The danger you’ve faced is only the beginning. There are powerful forces gathering, and they’re after something that’s very important. Something you’re connected to. They’ll be coming not just for you, but they’ll try to get to you through the others.”

Eunha’s eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about? What others?”

“I can’t say more. The spell is growing weaker and I’ll have to go soon. Be careful who you trust. There are many who would use your magic for ill,” Daniel says, sounding apologetic.

“How do I know who to trust? I can’t do this alone. I’ve been fighting alone for so long,” Eunha says, feeling broken. “I’m so tired.”

“Trust yourself, Eunha.”

Eunha takes a deep breath and watches the shimmer of her friend as his soul blends with the water of the river. Everything is grey here.

“Protect Yoongi, Eunha,” Dan says.

Her eyes widen at the recognition of a name that by all rights Dan shouldn’t know.

“I trust him with Mina. I trust him with you. Protect him. And not by pushing him away,” Dan says. She can envision the scathing glare he is giving her. He knows her penchant for running away to save those around her from getting hurt, doesn’t even have to have further insight to know how she’s already retreated away from Yoongi.

“Trust yourself to keep them safe, Eunha.”

Eunha nods, feeling a sense of dread settle in her stomach, Dan’s warning rattling around in her skull. “I have to go. I have to get back.”

“I know.”

“I miss you. I’ll keep missing you,” Eunha feels the sorrow well up in her chest, overwhelming and crushing the fear and anxiety.

“I know.”

“I- I only have one more use of this spell left,” Eunha says.

“I know. Please give Mina a kiss for me.”

Eunha nods, tears falling freshly again. She says, “I’ll bring her next time. For the last time—for the last spell. She deserves to know her father.”

Daniel’s soul starts fading into the grey of the river, the silvery shimmer dimming, as he starts moving back down the river. She watches him go for as long as she can before she turns back, away from the first gateway in the river, and towards the portal to life. 

Before she starts walking, she hears Dan’s teasing shout, “Keep her safe, E! Go kick butt and save the world!”

She feels the tug of a smile on her lips as she walks, trudging carefully through the water. The pull is distinct, insistent, now that she’s going back up the other way, towards life. The river might have been happy to see her walking further into death, but not so much seeing her retreat again.

She has to concentrate on her footing as she walks, relying on instincts more than anything else. Her legs and feet are numb from standing still in the waist deep icy waters. Her white-knuckle grip holds her haegeum and bow, ready to spell the water into abeyance if needed.

As she walks along, the water of the river becomes more shallow. When the water reaches only to her mid shin, walking becomes easier, even with the tug still there. As walking becomes easier, so does her breathing. While she’s still focused on putting one foot in front of the other, feeling for obstacles and pitfalls under the surface, her mind starts to mull over Daniel’s words.

She needs to get back to the plane of the living as soon as possible. She needs to warn Yoongi and figure out a plan. With a small gasp she remembers that everyone left for a birthday party, away from the security of the shielded and warded apartment building. She kicks herself for being too lost in her own melancholy to stop them from doing something so reckless. 

Eunha is busy admonishing herself when she hears it. A shiver shoots up her spine, pulling her scalp tense into a vice grip. Behind her, still some ways off, she can hear a faint splash, splash, splash of someone—or something—moving in the water. They are clearly trying to move silently, but not quite accomplishing it.

While keeping her ears straining, Eunha continues her pace, not wanting to alert whatever was moving towards her from behind to know she’s caught on to them. The body is corporeal enough to make the splashing, she notes, so not a typical soul. 

Her heart races as she tries to focus on the sound, attempting to gauge how far away it is. She can feel her breathing quicken as she becomes more and more alert to her surroundings. The water continues to splash, getting louder and closer.

Eunha purses her lips, readying a spell, in case she can’t set her haegeum to play quickly enough. Holding symbols for walls, slowing, and rising water in her mind, she firmly plants her feet after whirling around to face the splashing noises.

She takes in the sight before her. A large shadowy humanoid form, black as night, like a void punched out of all the grey of death, stands ankle deep in water. The shadow pauses for a moment, realizing it has been caught. But then it moves again. The movement is strange to Eunha’s eyes. As if the shadow is made of fog or cloud, rather than walking like a human, it rolls, spilling forward toward her at an alarming pace. As it roils forward, the river splashes. Eunha thinks the river is fighting back, trying desperately to keep this dead construct within the realm of death.

Wasting no more time, Eunha sets the haegeum on her hip and pulls the bow taught against the strings. She clears her mind of everything but the symbols for slowing, gravity, and fast tides. She pulls the bow across the haegeum’s strings and the instrument gives out an eerie almost-human-like wail. The song is one Eunha has never heard before, letting her soul dictate the tune needed to banish this creature further down the river. She focuses on the symbols, the song, and not letting her own body succumb to the spell.

“Ahhh,” a crackling voice echoes out across the river, seeming to emanate from the black void creature in front of her. “Death Bringer. You’ve come.”

Eunha tries to compartmentalize her fear. Death constructs should not be able to speak. This creature has no vocal chords, no body to communicate the sounds. She plays on, willing the symbols to do the work she needs them to do.

“You may banish me, Death Bringer,” the creature continues, Eunha can practically feel the electricity of its voice burn across her skin. “I am but the first. Soon you will join us, Death Bringer.”

Then the black form stops fighting, falling backwards, away from Eunha, into the water. With no fight left, the black mass submerges, with only a small portion bobbing in the water as it jets away down further into death.

Eunha waits to make sure the creature is truly gone and that she is alone again, catching her breath. She looks around carefully, scanning the river for any other signs of trouble. The water appears deceptively placid and the horizon stretches empty in all directions. Taking a deep breath, Eunha starts walking again, hurrying now to get out of the river and back to the land of the living.

“Death Bringer,” she huffs to herself under her breath. “That’s a new one.”

Eunha feels a wave of relief wash over her as the river begins to shallow and she can pick up her pace from a wary crawl to a full-on jog. She managed to keep the death construct at bay, but she still has so far to go to get back to safety—even beyond the river. 

The closer she gets, however, the harder it is for her to concentrate. The tug of death seems determined not to let her go so easily, and the longer she jogs on, the stronger it grows. Fear and doubt creep into Eunha’s mind, threatening to consume her if she allows them any say in how she acts or thinks. The river’s siren calls to just stop, rest awhile, let her soul float away to oblivion, joins forces with the other emotions already at war inside her. 

Chapter 1. The Rain.

If you asked Jimin on any given day, he would say he loves the little town he lives in. Not so many years ago, he might have given a different answer. As a young teen, he longed to leave the Green Valley and see the world. He wanted more than the single main street with its handful of shops, the one-room schoolhouse, and small temple. However, as he grew up into a young man of twenty, he has settled down a bit. This town, boasting its very first motorcar last summer and the friendly people are enough for him—especially the people.

The jingle of the bells over the shop door alerts Jimin to someone's presence.

“I’ll be right there!” he shouts from the back storeroom. He grabs the candles he was looking for and pushes open the swinging door that separates the back from the front of the shop.

“Jimin-ah!” a short young woman greets Jimin. She shakes out her umbrella and leaves it leaning on the wall by the door. The hem of her dress is soaked and caked in mud.

“Sunja! You’re back from the big city?” Jimin gives his friend a smile as he sets the box of candles on the front counter. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, well, the city was great. So much to see and do. You have to come by my house tomorrow to see the new fabrics I purchased! Oh, and when I tell you the fashion, Jimin-ah, it’s so trendy there. The journey was arduous. The rains just would not stop. Made the roads terribly muddy. I almost wished I had stayed longer,” Sonja says in one breath.

Jimin laughs at his friend and her flushed face. “I will be sure to come by tomorrow to see all the marvelous things you brought back with you.”

“Please do,” Sunja says with a grin. “How was everything here while I was gone? I heard that Kwang Jaesun finally had her baby. Any other news?”

Jimin snorts. “You have already heard of the newest baby in town. You are probably more caught up on our gossip in the hours you’ve been back than I am. I’ve been mostly holed up in this shop while you’ve been away.”

“Really? Where are your parents? You are still young,” she says as she wiggles her eyebrows. “Should you not be out being courted?”

“Song Sunja!” Jimin hisses. He can already feel the flush blooming on his cheeks. “I am not being courted.”

“I do not know what else I would call it, if not being courted, Jimin,” Sunja deadpans. “That man dotes on you. But where are your parents?”

“They traveled shortly after you left. They needed to check on the farms outside the Green Valley. So, they’ve been gone now, about three weeks? I expect them back in a week or so, assuming all went well with the farms. All of this rain might delay them though.”

Sunja hums as she looks around the shop. Jimin is quite proud of the store itself. Probably to someone just back from the big city the wooden shelves full of honey and jams, the table of beeswax and candles is not much. For their little town, though, they just keep up with everyone’s needs. 

“I just made new beeswax candles. Do you want to take some with you, Sunja?” Jimin asks, laying a hand on the box he’d retrieved from the back.

“I’ll leave some money with you for them now and you can bring them tomorrow when you come. How does that sound? Perhaps if they are too burdensome, you can ask a certain carpenter to help you carry them.”

Jimin whines faintly under his breath. “Sunja, please. It’s not like that.”

“Is it not?” she asks, still smirking at him.

“He is a very sweet, caring friend. I do not- I am not- I won’t hope for more from him. He is so very accomplished and I sell candlesticks,” Jimin says with a pout.

“Nonsense,” Sunja dismisses his concerns. “Mark my words, that man is in love with you just as the sun rises and sets. Tell me, Jimin-ah, how many times has he come to check in on you while your parents have been away?”

Jimin grows ever redder. 

“Tell me, Jimin-ah,” Sunja leans on the counter, her face nearing his.

“Not every day,” Jimin mumbles.

“But nearly?”

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut and nods.

“Sunja, he’s just a dear friend,” he tries again.

“Poppycock and nonsense,” Sunja says.

After a hug and kisses to cheeks, Jimin watches Sunja head back out into what looks like a torrential downpour. Just as she steps into the gravel road, a man darts over from across the street. Jimin, to his mortification, watches as Sunja turns to smirk noticeably in his direction before going on her way back home.

“Yoongi hyung, come in, out of the rain quickly,” Jimin ushers the drenched man across the threshold.

“Thanks, Jimin-ah,” the other man says quietly.

He’s wearing a nicely tailored black outfit, his black leather boots now muddy from the dash in the rain. All of him is dripping onto the wood floors of the shop..

“What are you doing out in this weather, hyung?” Jimin asks, hurrying to the back room to find a blanket to help dry Yoongi off with.

“The rain has been coming down so fiercely, I thought I should check to make sure you were alright. Has that leak upstairs been giving you any problems?” Yoongi asks. He accepts the blanket Jimin hands him with a soft smile, wrapping it around his shoulders.

“Ah, no, your last patch seems to be holding. Thank you, hyung,” Jimin replies.

Yoongi nods and they fall into a comfortable silence. Jimin decides to finish setting out the candles.

When he finishes, he turns his attention back to Yoongi. While he is positive the man is just a caring friend, Sunja’s teasing still hit a little close to home. Yoongi is reserved in mixed company, saves his conversation for his passions, and is extremely protective. He’s also an artisan carpenter—something that the townsfolk love to brag about. Their little town is honestly too small for the likes of Yoongi—something everyone was sure to tell Yoongi when he moved here from the big city. With an ache in his heart, Jimin can’t deny that he’s not more than a little in love with him. He just knows he’s not nearly accomplished enough—or cultured enough—to be deserving of the man.

“Sunja is back from the big city,” Jimin decides to say.

Yoongi nods again. “I saw her leaving the shop. I’m sorry to have missed her. I assume her trip was fruitful.”

“She does seem to have had a good time,” Jimin agrees. “I shall visit her tomorrow to see what she’s brought back with her.”

Yoongi smiles at this. “That sounds fun, Jimin-ah.”

“Would you be free for dinner tomorrow? I was thinking of making a stew,” Jimin asks.

Yoongi seems to perk up at the invitation. “Dinner would be lovely, Jimin.”

“Good, I’ll be sure to make it with the seasonings you like,” Jimin says with a smile that turns his eyes into crescents. 

“Don’t go out of your way. Whatever you make will be delicious, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi admonishes.

Jimin shakes his head still smiling. “I enjoy making it the way you like it.”

“Until tomorrow, then, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says with a nod. He takes the blanket and folds it before handing it back to Jimin. “Thank you for the lending of your blanket. Sorry for dripping on your floor.”

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi hyung,” Jimin says, shaking his head with a brilliant smile to dismiss the apologies. He hopes Yoongi can’t see the blush in his cheeks.

~

Yoongi likes the quiet town life. He spent his youth apprenticing in the big city several days' journal outside the Green Valley. After his parents passed away in the plague several years ago, he was left a sizable amount of land and the shop, which he converted to a carpentry. He sold much of the land and bought real estate in the big city as an investment. He figures he will work his carpentry until his body or eyes give out and then he can retire to the big city. Still, for now, he likes the quiet town life. He likes the inhabitants, even if they are a bit nosy sometimes.

“The rain has been falling for almost a fortnight now,” the portly man says to Yoongi.

Yoongi hums in acknowledgement as he finishes writing out the total for the pieces of furniture promised to this customer.

“Did you hear they were having trouble up at the dam?” the portly customer’s friend, who seems to have tagged along on this trip to the carpenter’s for no reason other than gossip.

“What about the dam?” the portly man asks.

“I heard from my friend, whose son is a worker up at the dam, that they were having trouble because of all this rain,” the friend says.

“What kind of trouble?” The portly man is frowning now.

The friend leans in conspiratorially and says in a hushed tone, “A leak. They don’t want to worry the town though.”

Yoongi furrows his brow at this. He hands over the slip and takes payment from the man. As the customers leave, he decides to close the shop early. He doesn’t like the idea the dam might be leaking. A small worm of anxiety settles in his head.

As he settles with his tea in his small living quarters above the carpenter’s shop, he watches the rain continue to fall. He looks across the street and sees at least one light still lit in the apartment of Jimin’s family. 

Yoongi found himself wondering if Jimin would consider traveling to the big city with him. At least until this horrendous rain stops. He knows Jimin’s never had the opportunity to travel outside the Green Valley. Most young people in the town have had the chance of at least one trip before they settle down into their adult lives with jobs and partners and families. Jimin’s parents were never fond of the big city, so Jimin never got to go.

Yoongi shakes his head  as he realizes he’s been daydreaming again. He knows he’s been too shy about things, too slow. He knows if he’s not careful someone else is going to come along and win Jimin’s heart first. And he really should do this in the right order—winning Jimin’s heart before galavanting off to the big city with him.

He sighs and takes a swig of tea. He scrunches his nose the moment it hits his tongue, realizing it’s gone cold. That’s a sign, if there ever was any, that it is high time for bed.

By the time he’s blowing out the candle lighting the room, casting eerie shadows across the ceiling and walls of his bedroom, the rain has stopped. The quiet from outside is almost disconcerting. Yoongi shakes his head, trying to dislodge the anxiety, perhaps. The rain has stopped. Everything will be fine.

~

Jimin is woken to a pounding below him on the door of his family’s shop. It’s dark. He’s faintly aware of the rain drilling down on the roof as he fumbles around for his robe. The pounding is so insistent, he doesn’t bother lighting a candle, but feels his way down the stairs to the shop door.

“Hyung? What’s the matter?” Jimin asks anxiously after opening the door to Yoongi standing in the rain, pale-faced and his robe soaked through, barely visible in the dark. Fear creeps through his veins, leaving him feeling breathless.

Before Yoongi could answer his question, a large cracking sound cut through the air. The one street lamp that was still burning, despite the rain coming down in sheets, flickers out.

“Shit,” Yoongi says. “We need to get to the roof, Jimin.”

“What? Why?” Jimin asks, knowing how small he sounds.

Instead of answering, Yoongi is feeling in the dark for Jimin’s hand. Yoongi’s fingers find Jimin’s forearm and feel their way down to interlace their fingers together. He pulls him back into the shop and towards the stairs.

“What’s the easiest way to get to the roof, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi says as he feels his way past the shop counter.

“There- there’s a ladder from my parents room,” Jimin says, shifting to take the lead and show Yoongi the way up the stairs to the second floor of his family’s home. “But- but, hyung, why do we need to be on the roof? The rain is coming down so hard. Won’t we drown up there?”

They reach the second floor and Jimin has one hand feeling along the wall, his other still entangled with Yoongi’s. He’s sliding the door to his parent’s room open before Yoongi answers him. His voice is so low, Jimin has to strain his ears to hear him.

“I think the dam is going to break. It’s not built to take this much rain, in this short of a period of time. I think the whole valley is going to flood.”

Jimin thinks his heart stopped for a brief moment. Then he’s pulling Yoongi into his parents’ bedroom.

Jimin stops in the center of the room and reluctantly releases Yoongi’s hand. “Wait here, I’ll pull the ladder down.”

The ladder is a simple one, made of rope and bamboo rungs. Before Jimin can’t think further, he’s guiding Yoongi to the rungs. Yoongi pushes Jimin forward to have him go first and climbs up after him.

The rain is cold and unrelenting as they pull themselves through the trap door onto the tile roof. The light is at least a little better up here, the dim at least allowing the two men to find their way to a rafter of wood sticking out at the juncture of the roof. It’s slow going as they try not to slip on the wet tiles of the roof. Jimin is still barefoot and scrabbles to hang on in some spots, almost crawling on all fours, rather than walking upright.

“Sit here,” Yoongi says as he guides Jimin by the shoulders to tuck himself into the joint at the roof. It’s only a small reprieve from the rain still pelting down.

Jimin watches as Yoongi pulls a length of rope from his waist and starts securing it around the rafter. Then he motions for Jimin to lift his arms and binds Jimin to the wood.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asks. He has to half-shout in the din of the rain. There’s also an undeniable other noise that could almost have been mistaken for that fancy motorcar that rumbles around town.

“This will keep you secure in case the roof comes loose,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly as he keeps working on wrapping the rope around Jimin and the rafter, then securing a very complicated looking knot.

Jimin feels the burn of tears in his eyes. “What about you, hyung?”

The other noise might be a big train rolling toward them, as the sound grows louder. It’s the sort of thing Jimin has only heard a few times, seeing friends and family off at the train station at the other end of the valley.

“I don’t have enough rope. I just grabbed the first thing I could in the shop on the way over,” he replies. He says this quietly, but Jimin doesn't need to truly hear the words to understand what is happening.

“Hyung! What about you?” he shouts. His tears track down his cheeks, becoming indiscernible from the rain drops.

Yoongi seems content with his knots and tucks himself in against the rafter next to Jimin. He loops his arms around Jimin’s waist and Jimin completes the hug with his own arms grasped tightly around Yoongi’s neck. The rumbling underneath the rain grows louder. Jimin can almost feel the vibrations of the sound through the tiles of the roof.

With his face tucked onto Jimin’s shoulder, he doesn’t need to shout for Jimin to hear him say, “I will hold on tight. I love you, Jimin-ah. I’m sorry I was too cowardly to tell you before now.”

Jimin’s arms hold Yoongi impossibly tighter, tears blurring completely with the rain, as he says, “I love you, Yoongi.”

The rumbling, roaring sound becomes louder, with other noises Jimin doesn’t understand. Everything is so loud, he’s not sure it can be real—the way it leaves him feeling deaf to anything and everything else. It’s not until later, he realizes the crackling, banging, sheer loudness of everything, is actually his entire town—the place he’s lived his whole life—being uprooted and smashed apart by a great wall of water.

Chapter 2. The Flood.

Earth. Jimin wrinkles his nose as the scents of mud, earth, and silt assault him. The next thing he notices is the sun, shining brightly, as he squints his eyes open. As he blinks, trying to adjust to the light, the full force of aching throughout his body hits him. Everything hurts.

Lifting his hand to shade his eyes, Jimin tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. There’s brown water everywhere before him. And debris, broken timber and ripped up trees, floats in the brown water in mangled slow-moving masses. As his eyes acclimate, he realizes he’s seeing parts of buildings, roofs, and other refuse that used to be his town.

Turning his neck, the pain echoes through his body again. He realizes he’s still tied tightly to the rafter of his roof. He sluggishly reaches for where Yoongi had tied the knots that kept him secure. 

The thought of Yoongi has adrenaline coursing through his veins in an instant. His lungs feel as if they’ve been punched when he tries to sit up quickly, only to be held down by the ropes, to look around for the other man. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Yoongi?” Jimin shouts. His voice is harsh, as if overused. He tries to cough and clear his throat, but feels trapped by the ropes that may have likely saved his life.

Jimin spends several minutes struggling with the knots. They are waterlogged making loosening them almost impossible. But eventually, with sore fingers, he digs the knots loose. Ignoring the pain still radiating through him, he quickly pushes the rope away from his body so he can move. He at least has the presence of mind to keep the rope, tying it carefully to the rafter, in case he needs it again later.

Now that he can move, Jimin carefully looks around what is left of his family home’s roof. Only part of the roof seems to have survived, giving him only a small platform to crawl on. He doesn’t stray too far from the rafter for fear of capsizing his makeshift vessel.

“Yoongi!” he shouts again. There is an eerie silence that surrounds him. There’s a distant creaking sound of timber colliding in the water.

Then he sees his first body. A man is floating face down in the brown water, wearing now-dirty sleeping robes. He floats by Jimin’s roof, close enough that Jimin could reach out if he wants to.

A sob escapes Jimin as he watches the body float by. The man is stoutly built, so Jimin knows he’s not Yoongi. Since he is not Yoongi, he doesn’t really want to know which neighbor met such a fate. Not yet, at any rate. 

“Yoongi, hyung,” Jimin whimpers as he presses himself back against the rafter. “Where are you?”

~

Jimin doesn’t know how long he’s been floating down this vast brown, debris-filled river, when his little roof refuge gets entangled in the roots of a tree. The collision is soft, as the water isn’t moving very quickly, but still alarms Jimin. He tenses as he waits for the roof to capsize. He can swim, but not that well. He certainly wouldn’t trust whatever debris is floating underneath this opaque water not to snare even the best of swimmers.

He sits frozen for a moment before he hears the soft clucking sound coming from the direction of the tree roots. He slowly crawls closer to the edge of the roof where the roots have been caught up with the jagged wood and tile.

In the roots, which are much like branches sticking up into the air above the water, sits a small lavender-grey hen. She’s nestled down in the roots, looking not-that-worse-for-wear, but also clearly not happy about the current state of things. Jimin can relate.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jimin coos. He’s as close to the edge and the roots as he dares without risking capsizing the whole platform.

The hen tilts her head in his direction in interest. Jimin clicks his tongue and holds out a gentle hand in her direction.

“Do you want to ride together, beautiful?” Jimin asks the hen. He tries clicking his tongue again.

She stares at him for a moment, as if in thought. Then further on, out in the water, metal clangs. Jimin thinks two large metal objects must have collided with one another. It’s enough to startle the chicken though, she flaps her wings dramatically and hops over to Jimin’s roof. Then she heads to the rafter, where she settles down.

Jimin smiles at her, crawling back in her direction, slowly so as to not scare her. Just as he’s settling back down against the rafter, the whole roof shakes. He looks around in alarm to find another pile of mangled wood has caught on the tree roots, pulling the roots away from his roots. The roof wobbles as it breaks free and floats on.

Jimin chuckles nervously and looks back at the hen. She seems nonplussed about everything. He reaches out his hand slowly, waiting for her to show her discomfort. When she just watches him, unmoving, he lets his hand run gently along her back.

“Well, this sure is a predicament, isn’t it, beautiful?” Jimin murmurs. He looks across the landscape again, wondering what his next move will be. The water has to end eventually, right? Or he will hit land of some kind? He doesn’t imagine there will be people around to rescue him anytime soon, but maybe he will find other survivors that made it to safety like he did.

That last thought has tears prickling his eyes. He worries about the townspeople and his friends. Most importantly, though, he worries about Yoongi, who selflessly brought rope to save Jimin. He hopes beyond hope that he’s just floating on another piece of roof, unharmed.

~

Jimin wakes with a headache. The sun is shining in full force, bearing down on his little piece of rooftop. He’s realizing he should have done more to protect his head and face, but it’s too late now. He also realizes that if he doesn’t find land soon, he might well die of dehydration. Foolish. He mentally kicks himself for not staying awake to keep an eye out for help.

As he looks out at his surroundings, everything looks much the same. The sun hasn’t helped matters much—like in drying up the water, for example—but has clearly intensified the smells. Jimin wrinkles his nose at the putrid smells of decay that emanate from the water itself. As if to prove a point, his eyes catch on the remains of a horse floating at some distance. Nausea roils in his stomach.

He turns and gently picks up the chicken, after she offers no protest. He settles her on his lap, petting soothingly down her back, as he looks out across the brown expanse. Another woman’s body, tangled up in another mass of tree roots, floats by and Jimin closes his eyes. They burn behind his eyelids, but no more tears come.

The sun is hot as he lays there and he doesn’t know how much time is passing. He still feels sick to his stomach and he shivers beneath his robes, which strikes him as odd with the sun being so warm. He moves to curl up under the rafter as much as he can, still holding the little hen in his arms. The beam does not provide much in the way of shade, unfortunately.

The sun crosses the sky, getting lower on the horizon of the mountains to the west. Jimin watches the mountains and thinks of the dam, somewhere up there that must have broken, causing this disaster that is unfolding around him. He wonders how much water those mountains must have been holding for there to be enough to fill the whole of Green Valley.

“Jimin-ssi?” he hears someone shout from far away.

He looks towards the voice to see a pair of people floating on a roof in the distance. He doesn’t recognize them, but his vision is a bit blurry. He blames dehydration.

“Jimin-ssi!” the second person shouts. Both people wave their arms in his direction.

He lifts one arm to wave back, but both makeshift rafts are slowly floating away from one another. Jimin looks around, imagining he might be able to find something to use as a paddle, but nothing presents itself. So, instead, he watches the raft carrying the pair float further and further away. He imagines they might be scrambling around trying to find a way to reach him, but can’t actually see well enough to be sure.

Later, with the sun even lower on the horizon, the car floats by. Jimin almost laughs, but can’t find the energy for it, as he watches the motorcar—in near pristine condition, at least the parts he can see—float along, as if ready to be driven through the water. He remembers when the owner had driven around town, so proud of his purchase and everyone else so proud they were a town that boasted a motorcar. 

Jimin’s stomach drops as he wonders where the owner of the car is now and if he’s okay. Then melancholy sweeps over him as he realizes those streets, the whole town, are gone, swept away in this brown, smelly water.

He shivers again and fights back the nausea that rolls through him again. He wonders if he sleeps, he can wake to find this is all just a bad dream.

~

“Jimin? Jimin-ah, wake up,” a voice calls to him gently. Jimin can feel someone squeezing his shoulder. “Jimin-ah, can you hear me?”

Jimin moans in response and furrows his brow. He squeezes his eyes before trying to open them. His head is pounding something fierce. Other parts of him ache and he’s still nauseous, but the headache is the worst.

“I have some water, if you can sit up a bit, Jimin-ah,” the voice says and the hand moves to his back to help him sit up.

He opens his eyes, but he can’t make sense of what he’s seeing, he’s so dizzy. 

“Where- what?” he tries to ask.

The voice shushes him with a pat. When Jimin feels himself helped up, the hand moves away. Then there is something pressing against his lips and he can feel cool water. His body almost reacts without his consent, as it moves quickly to drink down the offering.

“That’s right, Jimin-ah, drink, please,” the voice murmurs.

When the water is gone, Jimin tries to open his eyes to see his surroundings again. Everything is still blurry.

“Where am I?” he asks.

“We found your roof floating and managed to pull you in. This is a piece of elevated land that the flood didn’t reach. We’ve been sending out rescue parties to find survivors,” a new voice says.

Jimin blinks to try to clear his vision. This time it works, probably thanks to the portion of water. Before him is a campfire and the man across from him he recognizes as the blacksmith, Tonghyun. Jimin blinks at him, trying to process what he’s said.

“Drink some more water, Jimin-ah,” the first voice says from his side. This time, though, he recognizes who is speaking. 

Jimin turns quickly to see Yoongi sitting next to him offering a bowl of water. Jimin glances up and down looking for injuries, his eyes lingering on the sling Yoongi’s arm is snugly wrapped in. With his good arm, Yoongi pushes the bowl of water up to Jimin’s lips before Jimin can say anything. Jimin drinks the water down obediently before he tries to speak again.. 

“Yoongi? Hyung, you’re here,” is the first thing Jimin says when the bowl of water is set aside.

Yoongi smiles. He almost looks apologetic as he says, “I tried holding on, but the water was too strong. Luckily I was able to grab onto something, a beam, I think, and stayed afloat. Dislocated my shoulder, though.”

Jimin nods, eyeing the sling again. “You’re otherwise uninjured?”

Yoongi takes his hand with his good one and smiles again. He says, “Just bumps and scrapes, nothing serious. I am so glad they found you.”

Jimin smiles, but then he’s shivering again—his whole body wracked with chills. Yoongi frowns and moves himself closer so he’s taking on some of Jimin’s body weight with his own, pulling Jimin into his side.

“You have sun sickness, I think,” Yoongi says quietly. “No water to drink and in the heat of the sun for too long.”

Jimin nods but it’s lost in his shivers. Yoongi tuts in concern and wraps his good arm around Jimin’s shoulders.

“Let’s get one more serving of water in you before we go lay down, alright, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi asks. “Your body needs rest.”

After helping Jimin drink another bowl of water, Yoongi shows him to a small sleeping area with one blanket and another torn blanket tied to a small tree to create the effect of a lean-to structure. He helps Jimin lie down on the blanket and wrap the other half over the top of him. When he settles Jimin, Yoongi lies down on the dirt next to him.

“You don’t have a blanket,” Jimin murmurs, already half asleep.

Yoongi chuckles. Jimin can feel the rumble against his back, through the thin blanket, where Yoongi is pressed.

“Sleep, darling. Don’t worry about anything else,” Yoongi says.

~

The first thought Jimin has when he wakes is of his beautiful hen. When he asks Yoongi if she was rescued with him, Yoongi promptly brings her to him. She had, apparently, been leery of the others but didn’t want to leave Jimin. Now she’s sitting in Jimin’s lap while he eats a piece of bread the group had managed to scrounge up from somewhere.

Yoongi seems to be arguing animatedly with another man that Jimin can’t quite remember the name of. Jimin almost feels bad, now that Yoongi is here, he’s mostly sitting back and letting the older man take charge. Of course, when he voiced this worry, Yoongi just gave him a raised eyebrow and said those suffering from sun sickness should be resting and not worrying about such frivolous things.

So, Jimin sits, petting his hen and watching Yoongi argue. When the older man turns back to walk across the campsite, Jimin can’t tell if the scowl on his face means good news or bad news.

“Everything okay, Yoongi?” Jimin asks when Yoongi sits down next to him with a huff.

Yoongi hums and watches Jimin pet the hen for a moment before answering further. Eventually, he says, “I was asking for a boat to get us out of the valley. Honestly, I’m a little worried about you. I want to find a doctor for you.”

Jimin looks at him in surprise. “Am I that ill?”

“Sun sickness can be very serious, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi murmurs, still watching Jimin pet the hen. “You don’t need to worry about it. Just rest. I’ll find a way to get you to the city.”

“You hear that, beautiful? Yoongi is going to take us to the big city,” Jimin whispers into the hen’s ear, knowing he’s loud enough for Yoongi to hear him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Yoongi’s lips turn upward into a fond smile.

Jimin is not sure how he does it, but by midday, Yoongi has secured a rickety boat and oars. One of the conditions is they take some of the other injured and sick with them, but Jimin is glad to be helping people anyway.

The journey is arduous. Jimin curls himself in the boat with his hen on his lap, taking up as little space in the boat as possible. They try to triage the others so that those both most in need and also most likely to be able endure the journey are prioritized for the other spots in the boat. Another man, Jitae, Jimin thinks his name is, takes a second pair of oars to help Yoongi with the heavy boat.

They reach the valley entrance, night has fallen and they have to make camp under the stars. Yoongi lies close to Jimin, to try to help regulate his body heat. It is that night that Jimin recognizes why Yoongi might be worried about his health. He’s not sure how much he is going in and out of consciousness rather than sleep, as his body quakes and shakes.

They walk, with Jimin riding on Yoongi’s back for some of the way, until they reach an inn. Once there, things happen more quickly. News of the flood has spread already and apparently rescue screws were already being organized from the big city. Yoongi is able to secure a carriage to carry those with the most emergent injuries, including Jimin.

The next Jimin is aware, he’s tucked into a bed—a real bed. He’s tired, but feeling decidedly less ill than before. A tall man is bending over a fire across the room, stoking it up.

When he turns back, he breaks into a dimpled smile upon seeing Jimin awake.

“Park Jimin-ssi, you’re up,” he says. “My name is Kim Namjoon. I’m a close colleague of Yoongi hyung. Please call me hyung.”

Jimin bows his head awkwardly from his pillow. He says with a scratchy voice, “Nice to meet you, Namjoon hyung.”

“Where is Yoongi hyung?” he asks after looking around the cozy room.

“He’s gone out on business. I think he’s trying to sort out insurance and file reports about the flood.”

“Ah,” Jimin nods. “My- my hen?”

“She’s resting comfortably with my own hens in the hutch in the yard,” Namjoon says. He brings Jimin a cup of water. “She’ll be moved to your home, where I think Yoongi is building a yard for her. But renovations won’t be complete for a week or two.”

“Home?” Jimin wrinkles his brow.

“Ah, I think I wasn’t supposed to mention it. Sorry,” Namjoon ducks in head, chagrined. “I always hyung not to tell me secrets.”

“Secrets?” Jimin asks.

“Yah, Namjoon-ah, what did I tell you?” Yoongi says as he walks through the door.

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon says, but he’s smiling.

Jimin watches Yoongi walk towards him. The sling is gone and other than being a little more tan from the journey, Yoongi looks the same as ever. 

“Jimin-ah, you’re awake,” Yoongi says softly as he sits in the chair next to the bed. He takes one of Jimin’s hands in his, running a thumb across Jimin’s knuckles. Jimin feels his body warming at the fondness all over the older’s face.

Both men say their goodbyes to Namjoon as he excuses himself to go run errands now that Yoongi is back. Yoongi asks after Jimin’s health and makes sure he has a little porridge and more water before he addresses anything of substance in their conversation.

“Since Namjoon has partially spoiled the surprise, I will just say things now so that you aren’t worrying,” Yoongi says softly. He sounds exasperated, but his face says nothing but that he’s endeared by his friend. “I would like to ask for your hand in marriage. I have property here in town. The house is being renovated currently and, with your consent, I would like to include you in the planning. I would like to include you in all of my future plans.”

Jimin smiles as he sees Yoongi’s ears turn red at the confession.

“Of course, I will marry you, Yoongi. I love you,” Jimin says. He leans forward into Yoongi’s chest, feeling his hyung’s heartbeat steady and comforting against his ear. He can hear the whisper from Yoongi, who has started to stroke his hair, “I love you, too, Jimin-ah.”

Chapter 3. The Sun.

Jimin and Yoongi marry the following spring. 

The sun shines brightly on their wedding day, casting a golden glow over the small ceremony. Standing under a simple wooden arbor covered in purple wisteria, Jimin wears a red hanbok, adorned with delicate embroidery and a matching silk sash. Yoongi looks dashing in his navy blue suit, crisp white shirt underneath and a black tie to complete the look. His hair is neatly styled, and red embroidered flowers adorn his lapel.

The red silk of his wedding hanbok feels soft in Jimin's hands as he looks across to his small group of friends and family. His parents had reunited with him in the aftermath of the flood, having been stuck in an inn during the torrential rains while they were traveling back to Green Valley. Jimin feels a sense of relief and joy that they can be here with him on this special day. He ignores the small tug at his heart for the many people who cannot be here. Song Sunja. So many others from Green Valley.

As they exchange vows, Jimin feels the weight of the sun on his shoulders, but it is a comforting warmth. The ceremony is simple. The vows are a modest reaffirmation of what the pair already know. Jimin's heart swells with emotion as Yoongi takes his hands in his own, looking deeply into Jimin's eyes and promising to love him until the end of his days.

After the ceremony, they host a joyous celebration in the garden of their home. The space is filled with flowers and colorful lanterns, and the mouth-watering scent of their favorite foods wafts through the air. Jimin and Yoongi dance side by side under the sun, their friends and family quietly joining in the festivities. 

As the day turns to night and the party winds down, and they've said goodbye to all of their guests, Jimin and Yoongi retire to their bedroom. The room is decorated with red silk sheets and lit by the soft glow of paper lanterns. The sun has set, but the warm glow of love still radiates between them. Jimin's breath catches at the beautiful arrangement of the room.

"When did you have time to do this, hyung?" he asks, peering at the older man who is looking sheepish.

"Namjoon helped me this afternoon when you were showing your parents the new garden," Yoongi replies. A beautiful light pink dusts his cheeks.

Jimin smiles, endeared. He whispers, "Thank you. It's beautiful."

He leans into tenderly place a kiss on Yoongi's cheek. Yoongi turns to face Jimin, cupping his face in his hands. Jimin can see the desire in his eyes as Yoongi leans in to kiss Jimin's lips. As they meet, and the kiss is sweet and tender. After pulling away, Yoongi rests his forehead against Jimin's.

"It might be indelicate of me to say, but I've been waiting for this moment for so long," he whispers.

"So have I," Jimin replies, running his hands over Yoongi's chest, twisting his fingers under the lapels of the jacket, feeling the embroidery under his fingertips. He can feel a blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

Yoongi undresses Jimin slowly, his fingers tracing over each curve and contour, sending shivers down Jimin's spine. When Jimin recovers his wits, he returns the favor, struggling occasionally with the more complicated buttons and fastenings of Yoongi's suit. 

They undress each other slowly, savoring each touch and caress. Jimin's heart skips a beat as Yoongi's gentle fingers trail down his body, igniting a fire within him. The room is filled with silence, except for the soft rustling sounds of clothes being shed and the occasional, shared breaths between them.

As Yoongi leans in to kiss Jimin again, traces of the warmth of the sun's glow still on their skin seems to accentuate the heat between them. Jimin runs his hands over Yoongi's defined muscles, electrified by the feeling of Yoongi's skin against his.

The kisses start slowly, belying the eagerness both are feeling, but soon they become more urgent, knowing they have been holding back for far too long. Yoongi gently pushes Jimin back onto the bed, his lips trailing down Jimin's neck and chest, as Jimin gasps and arches his back with pleasure at each caress.

Jimin's breath hitches as he feels Yoongi's body move against his own, and he moans softly as their bodies become fully intertwined. 

The night is filled with the sounds of their passion, the warmth of their love, and the gentle glow of the paper lanterns.

~

Days after the wedding roll quietly one after the other, spring giving way to summer. 

Yoongi has built a spacious yard just for Jimin’s hen, who seems thrilled with her new space. The garden blooms with a variety of colorful flowers and plants, the vibrant colors of pink azaleas, yellow daffodils, and white camellias setting an almost magical mood. In between bouts of rain, the air is humid and warm – perfect for spending afternoons in the garden with a good book or just lying in the grass and watching clouds float across the sky. Jimin often ventures out to take care of his hen as she pecks around, content in her own haven within the garden walls. 

Despite the occasional bouts of sadness on remembering life before the flood, Jimin is content in his new, small world, taking care of his home, garden, and hen.

One day, while tending to the garden, Jimin notices a new sprout peeking up from the soil. He cheers under his breath, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the new life he has helped bring forth. As he leans over to inspect the sprout, he feels a pair of hands wrap around his waist, startling him out of his reverie.

"Yoongi!" Jimin exclaims with a laugh, turning to face his husband. Yoongi grins at him, his eyes soft and fond.

"I thought I'd surprise you," he says , pulling Jimin in for a gentle kiss. Jimin's heart flutters as he wraps his arms around Yoongi's neck, cherishing the warmth of his embrace, never minding the dirt from the garden getting on Yoongi's clothes.

"There's something I want to show you," Yoongi adds, taking Jimin's hand and leading him towards the back of the yard. Jimin follows eagerly, feeling a sense of excitement bubble up within him.

As they approach a small clearing in the yard, Yoongi stops and turns towards Jimin, his eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"I've been working on something for a few weeks now," Yoongi says, stepping aside to reveal a new greenhouse, constructed from glass and wood. The structure sparkles in the sunlight, casting a warm glow over the surrounding grass. Jimin gasps in awe, his eyes widening with delight.

"It's beautiful," he says, walking towards the greenhouse and peering inside. Inside, the air is filled with the warm, earthy scent of soil. Rows of planters of dirt wait for seeds.

Jimin walks further into the greenhouse, inspecting everything carefully. The glass panes of the greenhouse gleam and the wood paneling and beams are intricate - just like something a carpenter would build. The wood is a solid, dark brown in color, stained so that it matches the hue of the soil within the planters. The panels are smooth to the touch when Jimin runs his hands across a beam, and warm as if they have been sitting in the sun for hours. The wood is sturdy and strong, able to withstand the elements.

"It's for you, Jimin," Yoongi says softly, coming up behind Jimin and wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over the younger's shoulder. "I know how much you love gardening, and I wanted to create a space for you when summer wanes."

Jimin turns to face Yoongi, feeling a sense of overwhelming love and gratitude. "Thank you, hyung," he says, leaning in for a tender kiss.

As the days pass, Jimin spends his time in the greenhouse, tending to his plants and watching them grow. The warm glow of the sun filters through the glass panes, casting a gentle light over the greenery. Jimin feels a sense of peace wash over him as he works, the quiet rustling of the leaves soothing any of his sadder thoughts.

~

One stormy night, Jimin awakens to the sound of rain pounding against the rooftop. He had grown accustomed to the sound of rain after the flood, but the sound of wind howling and windows rattling unnerves him. He turns to Yoongi, who is sleeping fitfully beside him, and shakes his shoulder gently.

"Yoongi, wake up," he whispers urgently. Yoongi stirs, opening his eyes groggily.

"What is it, Jimin?" he mumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

As he blinks at Jimin, a look of understanding blooms on his face. He pulls Jimin into his arms and says, "It's alright. We're safe here."

Neither of them sleep much that night, listening to the storm rage on outside and remembering a different storm altogether. But inevitably, the sun shines again. 

It is early morning when Jimin and Yoongi venture out into the gardens. The sun shines brightly across the horizon, casting its warm light over everything. As they step into the garden, they notice that nothing has been damaged by the storm, save for a few branches that have fallen across their path.

Jimin sighs in relief as he surveys the greenhouse and surrounding gardens. They are unscathed and seemingly untouched by the storm. He smiles in content as he looks around, his eyes taking in all of the color and vibrancy of nature before him. It is beautiful to be able to step outside and take it all in, safe from any harm that may come their way.

As Jimin walks along the path, he inspects each plant carefully, taking note of any damage that may have occurred during the night. Thankfully, it appears that everything has remained unharmed—even his newly planted seeds seem to be doing well despite some unexpected moisture from the rain. He continues walking around until he comes upon an old bench that Yoongi had placed near one of the trees several months ago. 

He sits down on it and watches as Yoongi walks towards him with a small smile on his face. Yoongi takes a seat beside him on the bench, their thighs brushing against one another. Jimin leans against Yoongi's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and the comfort of his embrace.

Yoongi turns to Jimin and takes his hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. "I'm so glad we're safe, Jimin-ah," he says, his voice soft and comforting.

Jimin nods in agreement, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for Yoongi's presence in his life. "Me too, hyung."

Yoongi smiles at him and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jimin's lips.

As they sit there on the bench, the warmth of the sun enveloping them, they feel a sense of contentment settle over them. They are safe, together. Jimin takes Yoongi's hand in his and intertwines their fingers, feeling the strength and warmth of Yoongi's grip. 

"Let's stay here for a while," Jimin murmurs, leaning his head against Yoongi's shoulder.

Yoongi nods in agreement, a smile playing on his lips. They sit there together, basking in the warm sunlight and the sweet smell of blooming flowers. For Jimin, it feels like nothing can touch them in this moment—they are safe and secure, surrounded by the love they share and the beauty of the world around them. As the sun slowly sets, they make their way back to their home, grateful for another day spent together and the promise of more to come.

~

Inevitably, summer turns to fall. The sun is gentle and the air crisp as red and orange maple leaves line the pathways that wind through Jimin and Yoongi's garden. Persimmons hang heavy, resting on the eaves of hanok. The garden is surrounded by a myriad of colors, from the rich coppers and rusts of the autumn leaves to the vibrant yellows and oranges of the flowers that carpet the ground. Soft chrysanthemums in shades of yellow, bronze, and white line the pathways that take Jimin and Yoongi through their garden. 

Neither Yoongi nor Jimin take any day they spend together for granted. They cherish each moment, knowing that life is fragile and can change in an instant. One warm day, Jimin and Yoongi spend their afternoon sitting in their garden. They sit atop a blanket spread out across the grass and savor each other's company as they share stories from their pasts. It feels like everything around them has paused in this moment—the birds stilled in their song and time standing still for just a little while longer.

As they look around them at the vibrant colors of autumn, they can't help but feel grateful for this space that allowed them to find solace from all of life's storms. They sit in silence for a few moments more before finally rising to their feet and heading inside for dinner, feeling contented with one another and in knowing that wherever life takes them next, this place will always remain a safe haven full of warmth and beauty.

As the days grow shorter and the air turns crisp, Yoongi spends more and more time in his shop, creating small pieces of furniture and necessities for the people in town in preparation for winter. Jimin takes pleasure in visiting him after work, watching him work with his hands, and listening to him talk about his craft.

One day, Jimin arrives at the shop to find Yoongi working meticulously on a wooden keepsake box. As Jimin approaches, he sees a small, delicate carving of a butterfly etched into the lid. He pauses, watching Yoongi work with a focus that he often reserves for tasks he cares deeply about.

When Yoongi finishes, he looks up and catches Jimin's eye. "It's for you, Jimin," he says softly, rising from his workbench and crossing the room to hand it to him. "Still needs a final coat of polish."

Jimin takes the box in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth wood and tracing the lines of the butterfly. He opens the box and inside, he finds a note, written in Yoongi's hand. Tears fill his eyes as he reads the poem.

Moonlight dimly flow in the cool breeze.

This eager longing for you,

beautifully and graciously put together with the breeze and moonlight

When will we meet

The you that I miss, and miss again

A part of my past

A part of me

The you that I miss now and forever

When will we meet

Sunlight glows, standing beautifully in front of me

Sun soaked warmth beneath my touch

Even when you are in front of me

A part of my future

When will we meet

The you that I miss, and miss again

~

When winter finally comes again, Yoongi does not even bat an eye when Jimin brings his beloved hen in at the first sign of snow.

"She'll be cold out in the snow alone," Jimin states after catching Yoongi watching him carry her through their home's threshold.

Yoongi just nods with a small smile, saying nothing at all.

The hen clucks softly in the corner of their living room, content to be near Jimin. As the soft powder falls, the garden transitions into a place of peaceful beauty. The snow glistens under the bright light of the moon, like a million stars have fallen to the ground. 

Jimin and Yoongi cuddle in the candlelight of their cozy home, exchanging warm cups of tea and sweet whispers as they spend their long nights together.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Eunha picks up a heavy rock, a little too large for her fist and throws it overhand past the small waves lapping at the rocky shore. It makes a satisfying plopping sound as it hits the water’s surface.

“Did you see that?” the boy calls out from several paces down the rocky shore. “I think it bounced like seven times before it sank!”

“Good job, Dan,” Eunha says with a smile.

The boy runs over to her, brilliant smile across his face. He pulls her to him with one arm around her shoulder.

“What’s up, E? You’re so grumpy today,” Daniel frowns down at her. “What’s going on?”

Eunha shrugs, keeping her eyes out on the grey horizon. It’s not a true muted grey, like the other expanse of water she’s had the displeasure of seeing, but a beautiful, multidimensional grey mixed with blues. The cold wind whips up around them, enveloping them in the salty smell of the ocean.

“What if we just stayed here?” she asks, eyes still trained on distant sea and sky. “Just got a little house and stayed here together?”

“Middle of nowhere Oregon coast? Sure! Sounds good to me,” Daniel replies. “We could open an ice cream parlor. Maybe we can trick the dumber tourists into thinking this is the Twilight town.”

Despite her melancholy, Eunha snorts out a laugh. “It’s fucking freezing, Dan. Ice cream? Really?”

“Well, maybe hot chocolate when it’s cold out. Ice cream for the tourists in the summer?”

“So, a hot chocolate parlor for ten months of the year and an ice cream parlor for two?” Eunha says as she grins.

“Now you’re talking,” Dan says. “But why are we suddenly moving to the beach?”

Eunha’s smile fades and she lets out a sigh. After a pause to watch a blue heron fly overhead, she says, “My uncle just came back from Korea. My parents want me to go to school in Portland and apprentice with him.

She kicks at a rock that rolls haphazardly to the surf, but never makes it. The young man squeezes her shoulder tighter.

“I never asked for this,” Eunha says with a strangled voice. “I never fucking asked for this shit.”

“I know,” Dan says quietly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll both be 18 soon and graduated and fuck ‘em. Right?”

“Right,” Eunha chokes out with an aborted sob. She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Fuck them. Just because it’s in my blood does not mean I have to follow them.”

“Fuck yes, that’s right. First step, graduation. Second step, Seoul. We’re young and we’ve got the whole world at our feet,” Dan says with a manic grin on his face. “Your dreams are going to come true. I can’t wait to be there with you when they do.”

Eunha wakes with a startled cry as the memory-turned-dream still echoes in her head. She immediately bites down on her lip to keep more sounds from waking the rest of the house. She looks down in the dim light to see Mina sleeping peacefully. Eunha lets out a sigh of relief. Mina is safe. That’s all that matters.

If she looks back on the past week, it comes to her in snapshots. Oddly still images, the movement slightly blurred. Yoongi orchestrating her discharge from the hospital. Eunha spending the rest of the day snuggled up next to Mina, whispering assurances and checking the girl over as if she were the one that had disappeared. Seeing her box of belongings sent from Rancid House. Knowing she’s been fired for being abducted. Knowing this as soon as her eyes landed on her things. Not feeling anything about it at all.

Not feeling much of anything at all.

After a day of watching movies and reading books in the living room, Eunha says she’s ready to talk. Yoongi brings in his head of security, Kim Minkyu, to sit down with Eunha to get every detail she could remember of her abductors, the club, and anything else that would help him keep everyone safe. She glosses over some of her own magical abilities, leaving her escape up to more coincidence and luck than anything else, which, if she’s honest, is fairly true. She also avoids mention of the Sidhe in Incheon or any other supernatural connections.

Upon her insistence, Yoongi sits with her for the entire conversation with Kim Minkyu. His jaw clenching and his nails digging crescents into his palms as he listened to everything that Eunha went through. Eunha, on the other hand, remains stoic and emotionless. Possibly that makes Yoongi even more furious at the situation. Despite his internal agony, he keeps his thoughts and emotions to himself, letting himself be a rock for Eunha to lean against.

Eunha also remembers at one point during the week, Yoongi and one of Yoongi’s lawyers filing an extensive grievance against the hospital for the way the staff conducted themselves around her. She had been reluctant but the lawyer made some very convincing points about accountability and the other patients that will eventually land themselves with the same awful staff. Mostly she went along with it because it took more energy to fight it than not. Mostly she just did not care to feel anything about it at all.

The week had been a lot. Eunha feels a little bit lost, as if floating outside herself, and very exhausted.

Still reeling from the dream of another seaside from a lifetime ago, Eunha slides carefully out from under the covers, biting her tongue as the pain in her rib radiates through her chest. The more superficial wounds had healed, but the rib would take weeks, the doctor said. Eunha gingerly clutches her side as she makes her way to the bathroom.

After splashing water on her face, she shuffles out to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. The silent clock on the wall says it’s 4 in the morning, as she leans against the counter squinting at it while the water heats up.

“Can’t sleep?” Yoongi’s scratchy voice sounds too loud in the otherwise quiet house.

Eunha grips her own arms where they are crossed against her chest, trying not to show how startled she is. She shakes her head in reply. After a breath she asks, “Tea?”

“Please,” Yoongi murmurs and sits down on one of the stools at the counter.

Eunha glances at him. He’s in an oversized white tee and his dark hair is sticking up in odd places. What’s most alarming to her are the dark circles under his eyes.

“Are you okay, Yoongi?” she asks.

He gives a half-hearted grunt in reply.

Eunha gets two mugs out of the cupboard along with some calming tea. She lets the silence blanket them while the water begins to boil.

Once the tea is steeping in the cups and she’s leaning against the counter again, she says, “Shall I distract you with a story?”

Yoongi eyes widen in what she thinks must be veiled surprise. Eventually, he replies, “Sure.”

“When I was a teenager. My best friend and I would take these trips out to the coast. To the beach. There was a campground that almost no one, but locals knew about. I don’t remember how Dan found it in the first place, but he was good with stuff like that. Finding hidden gems.”

Eunha pauses at that comment, realizing the deeper meaning behind it—he had found her, hadn’t he, when she was hidden.

Yoongi waits patiently, eyes curious, but otherwise his body is unmoving.

“They had these yurts. Like little one room cabins, but not nearly as nice as a cabin. Honestly, they had seen better days and probably that’s why we were able to rent them for so cheap. So, when school got to be too much or we needed to let off steam, we’d just hop in Dan’s car and drive out to stay in a yurt for the weekend.”

Eunha watches as Yoongi’s lip twitch in the beginning of a smile. She grabs the mugs and sets one down in front of him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. After a sip, he asks, “Your parents just let you take off for the weekend like that?”

“Well, they didn’t strictly know,” Eunha laughs faintly at that. “They certainly didn’t know I was driving all the way to the coast to stay in a one room cabin with a boy.”

Yoongi quirks his eyebrow at that, taking a long sip of his tea.

“We weren’t really troublemakers though. Dan was a straight-A student. The worst thing we did on our beach weekends was hustle the local arcade out of their cute stuffed toys because they didn’t know how to stack the crane machine the right way. Made it way too easy to win the toys.”

Eunha smiles at the memory. She laughs as she says, “The stink eye that the manager of that place gave us. Dan would shove the stuffed animals into my arm, grab my hand, and whisper dramatically ‘run’ and we’d be off running back to our little yurt.”

Eunha takes a sip of tea, trying to hold onto the happiness of the memory a little longer. She says, “I don’t know why I was thinking of that all of the sudden. I had a dream about it. That’s why I woke up. Remembering those weekends on the coast. Feels like another lifetime. I guess it is almost like another lifetime.”

“Sounds fun,” Yoongi says. “Sounds like my teenage self who used to sneak out to underground rap shows and competitions.”

“Yeah,” Eunha smiles in agreement. She winces slightly when she chuckles, rib aching. “Growing up in Korea must have been so different. I feel like I had a lot of freedom, growing up in the States.”

“You grew up in the U.S.?” Yoongi asks. This time the surprise is clear on his face.

“Yeah, my parents moved us over when I was pretty young,” Eunha says. “We were living in the middle of nowhere Oregon. Very pretty, but very lonely. Dan was one of my only friends growing up. Mina was actually born there.”

“Oh,” Yoongi says as he contemplates this information.

Eunha finishes her tea and rinses her mug in the sink. When she turns back Yoongi is sipping down the last of his cup.

“Where is Dan now?” Yoongi asks as he stands to take his cup to the sink to rinse.

Eunha feels the lump in her throat and tries to swallow it down. When she trusts herself, she says, “He died. But it was a while ago now. Guess it’s been a little over 9 years.”

Yoongi is frozen at his place at the sink. After a few seconds, it’s like someone hit the “play” button and he unpauses to set the mug down on the drying rack. He turns to face Eunha and she can’t bear to look at his face when he says, “I’m really sorry, Eunha.”

Eunha just shakes her head. “It was a long time ago.”

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter. Not really,” Yoongi says softly.

Eunha shakes her head again and can feel a single tear track down her cheek. “No, sometimes it doesn’t.”

Before she knows what’s happening, Yoongi embraces her in a hug. Nothing too overpowering or intrusive, just enough to be considered a hug. His chin is lightly hooked over her shoulder, barely touching. But it’s the most friendly contact she’s had with another person who isn’t Mina in a long time. And everywhere his body is touching hers, she can feel the warm buzz settling under her skin. Instead of the frenetic feeling of life that overwhelms, she feels settled, sated. It’s almost like the resonance between his soul and her own is at such a harmony that everything feels a little bit more complete.

“You feel so alive,” Eunha whispers before her filter snaps into place.

“What?” Yoongi asks, his hands gently pressing, palms splayed, up and down her back.

“I- I can feel souls through touch,” Eunha says. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all of this.”

“I want to know, if you want to tell me,” Yoongi murmurs. She can feel his warm breath along her neck, sending goosebumps rising across her skin.

Eunha swallows. She is surprised at how very much she does want to tell him. “I can feel a person’s soul, but mostly on physical contact. It can be a lot.”

Yoongi tenses and goes to pull away, but Eunha shoots her arms forward to wrap around his waist and pull him back in. She plants herself more firmly against his chest, chin tucked in, face buried at his collarbone.

“Please stay,” Eunha whispers so quietly, she’s positive Yoongi can’t actually hear her. “You make me feel safe.”

As soon as she says the words out loud, she feels like she’s plummeting off a cliff—a very tall cliff. Yoongi does make her feel safe and that’s terrifying. She’s not trusted or relied on another person, let alone allowed someone to make her feel safe, in almost a decade. Instead she has only known fear and loneliness and death. While she supposedly is the one that can tame the waters in the river of Death, she feels death follows the people in her life as if vindictive against her personally. As much as she wants to feel safe in Yoongi’s arms, to feel the beautiful resonance of their two souls, she wants to keep him safe more.

“I- I need to go check on Mina. You- you should go back to sleep. There’s still time left before the day really starts,” Eunha says as she’s pulling away from Yoongi’s embrace. “Good night, Yoongi-ssi.”

Without looking back she walks quickly down the hallway. There is an aching hole in her chest that has nothing to do with her broken rib.

~

Eunha stands in the shower, staring blankly at the tiled wall in front of her, letting the hot water run over her, steam clouding the room. A week passes and sleep becomes increasingly elusive. Each night, she awakens, unrested, not from reliving nightmares of the club or Park Donghyun, but of bittersweet memories of a time long past. She feels exhausted and utterly numb. She doesn’t know how long she stands in the shower, feeling nothing but the sensation of hot water massaging her tired muscles, until she finally goes through the motions of getting out, drying off, and padding back into the bedroom.

She watches moonlight track across the floor of the guest room while Mina sleeps soundly next to her. After so many nights awake in the wee hours, Eunha’s become accustomed to the silence. She’s not thinking of the dreams (nightmares) that woke her up. She’s not thinking of the tasks she needs to complete tomorrow (there are none). She’s not thinking about the fact that she’s unemployed and needs to find a job. She’s not thinking about Mina, holed away in this fancy Hannam the Hill apartment, who deserves a normal childhood. She’s not thinking of anything at all. If anything, her mind is blessedly blank—grey like the river in Death and just as calm.

The sun rises and Mina stirs. Eunha continues to sit while her daughter gets ready for the day and leaves the room, presumably to get breakfast Yoongi most likely prepared—as he has been doing every day since their arrival. Eunha ignores the goings-on around her, feeling heavy like her limbs are filled with stones. Her head is fuzzy, like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and all the thoughts she might have are too sleepy to come out.

“Eunha-ssi?” Eunha hears a voice calling her name. How long have they been calling her name?

She looks up to see Seokjin standing a little awkwardly in the doorway. Jacket on as if he just arrived or is just leaving. The hand he has leaning against the doorframe is fidgeting with the wood edging.

“I was wondering if your Mina would like to come to a birthday party for my nephew. He’s young, but some older cousins are invited. I thought it might be nice for her to play with some other kids? I thought it would be nice for her to get out of the house for a little bit,” he says, looking a little nervous.

Eunha blinks at him trying to process his words. After a moment, she asks, “Did you ask her already?”

“Oh, well, I did mention it, just to see if she was interested,” he answers. “She seemed interested?”

“Oh,” Eunha says. That’s unexpected.

“I can go with her, if you don’t want her going with hyung alone,” Yoongi chimes in as he sidles up behind Jin in the doorway. “She didn’t seem that worried about it though. You could stay and get some rest.”

“Oh,” Eunha says again.

The two men in the door watch Eunha carefully. She doesn’t notice the worried creases in their brows or their slightly downturned lips or the tension they are carrying in their shoulders.

“Okay, I mean, if she’s okay with it,” Eunha says. She thinks her voice sounds far away, but she’s pretty sure she’s the one talking. “But please go with her?”

She asks the last question directly of Yoongi, giving him a glance in the eye. She drops her gaze again as soon as she sees his quick nod of assent.

When the men leave the room again, Eunha continues staring at the floor wondering how long she’d been in the same position. Her joints creak and her head pounds as she finally moves to get up. She realizes, for the first time since the abduction, that maybe something is wrong with her. The word “depression” floats through her consciousness, but doesn’t find much to attach itself to.

Still, despite the weight in her limbs and on her chest, feeling more motivation than she’s felt since fleeing the rooftop apartment, Eunha showers and changes into fresh clothes. Then she retrieves her haegeum case from the corner where she’d stashed all the things Yoongi had rescued from Rancid House. She looks around the room and decides on the spot of carpeting that is currently bathed in afternoon sunlight.

Sitting cross-legged, she opens the instrument case and runs her fingers lovingly across the picture tucked into the pocket. Then she pulls out the haegeum and bow, tightening the strings, thinking of the symbols she wants to use first. She pauses for only a moment and then bends over to grab a pen out of the haegeum case as well.

Knowing how well spelled and protected the apartment building is, Eunha does not waste too much energy on the protective spell around her own body. It’s only there as a precaution and as a warning to any other apartment occupants not to accidentally disturb her. Then she pulls the symbols for warmth, entangling them with the sunlight already present around her body. Strengthening the natural environment is easier than conjuring something from scratch. This type of heat, too, should help carry her as far as she needs to go in the river—much further than her latest jaunts into death.

Before she steps into death, she visualizes the symbols for messages, light, and connection, with a drawn out note on her haegeum. A small paper lantern appears in front of her lap. Taking the pen, she writes a small prayer on the outer paper of the lantern and then tucks it to herself, careful not to rip the delicate construction.

The river is cold, but the sun-strengthened warmth that encases her body helps fight off the frigidness. Eunha allows herself a moment to get her bearings. She lets herself do something she hasn’t in over a decade. She shuts her eyes, feeling out with her senses, the terrain under the water, trying to triangulate her location. Once she has a good idea of where she is, she makes sure her haegeum and bow are secure in one hand and the delicate lantern is secure in the other. She slowly steps forward, feet finding their way on well worn paths beneath the tricky water’s surface. While she might fight the memories of her training in the ways of death, her body remembers. So, she walks, carefully but confidently, further into death.

~

Yoongi already regrets letting Seokjin-hyung convince him to take Mina to this birthday party. It’s chaos. There are children from infant to pre-teen running around everywhere, seemingly hopped up on candy, cake, and excitement. He and Mina stand, his hands resting protectively on Mina’s tense, tiny shoulders in front of him, and watch as children run past screaming.

A middle-aged woman, wearing a green apron and looking considerably overwhelmed, walks by. She pauses at the two strange statue-like people in the front hallway.

“Come on it, no need to stand at the door,” she says and waves the two into the home. “There are drinks in the kitchen.”

There’s a look of faint amusement on her face as Yoongi startles, realizing they are being somewhat rude. He remains speechless, though, as another (or is it the same and they are just running in circles?) gaggle of children run by screaming.

The woman chuckles to herself and says, “Once you settle your daughter, the adults are all in the dining room. They are going to do cake in about a half an hour.”

Trying to process what the woman is saying with chaos continually erupting around them, his brain also catches the fact that this stranger had assumed Mina is his daughter. His body reacts first, flushing hot in embarrassment. He can feel the blush blossoming across his skin all the way to his ears. He’s thankful for the bucket hat pulled snugly over his head and the mask on his face.

He glances down at Mina now, checking to make sure she’s not too uncomfortable. She’s standing directly in front of him, back plastered to his legs. His large hands are still draped carefully on her shoulders. She doesn’t seem to be listening to the woman at all, but focusing on the chaos swirling around them.

What Yoongi asks out loud, when he finally realizes he should be conversing instead of staring, the horror clear in his tone, “You mean these children haven’t even had cake yet?”

“No, of course not,” the woman answers curtly, completely missing the tone of Yoongi’s question. Before she can continue talking to Yoongi, something catches her eye from the other room. She yells, “Oh Minho, put that down this instant. I will call your mother!”

She storms off without a backward glance to dumbstruck pair in the front hall. After a few moments of standing frozen, Yoongi moves to kneel in front of Mina, hands still comfortingly grasping her shoulders. He doesn’t know if it’s for her comfort or his.

“Mina-yah, if this is too much, we can go home, okay?” Yoongi looks into the little girl’s face to see if he could read how she’s feeling.

She looks at him distractedly, eyes flickering back and forth between his face and the chaos swirling outside their little bubble.

“Mina-yah?” Yoongi tries again. “Do you want to go?”

She gives a small, quick shake of her head and takes a step closer to Yoongi.

“You want to stay?” he asks, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Mina nods one quick nod, but otherwise remains still.

“Okay,” he says as he gives a squeeze to her shoulders. “How about we stick together for a bit?”

Another quick nod from the girl and Yoongi stands slowly. He relinquishes her shoulders to face the maelstrom within the apartment.

They find a semi-quiet corner to sequester themselves in. Mina sits, nestled up against Yoongi’s side as if he will disappear if Mina loses physical contact,  and watches the children run around. Yoongi is scrolling through his phone, perfectly content to spend the entire party just like this. Fate and busybody mothers, it seems, feel he need not be left in peace.

A group of women, perhaps a decade older than himself, gravitate toward him from wherever they had been previously, clearly drawn to the new face in the crowd.

“Who do we have here?” one of the women asks.

Yoongi looks up from his phone to see the women, five of them, and all pretty, put together in a bougie Seoul-elite way, and all staring at the awkward pair of wallflowers. He can’t tell who spoke as they ring around him, so he doesn’t know who to address, which is just as well since he doesn’t really want to respond anyway.

“I think they came with Seokjin-ah, dear boy,” a woman with platinum blonde hair says.

Another one of them titters and says, “Hyorin, you sound like such an ahjumma. Seokjinnie-ah is not that much younger than us. Are you Seokjin’s friend?”

All the women turn to face Yoongi expectantly. Yoongi swallows. He says with a small bow, “Uh, yes, nice to meet you. I’m just escorting the daughter of a family friend today.”

He winces to himself internally when he realizes he’s thrown Mina under the bus a bit, but she doesn’t seem to mind. When he glances at her, she doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to the now-gawking women at all, but rather watching further into the room as children continue to run around screaming.

“Did you want to go and play?” Yoongi murmurs to her. A quick shake of her head lets him know they will probably be sitting here for a bit longer.

The women soon give up trying to converse with Yoongi and Mina once they realize one is only going to give them single word answers and the other doesn’t speak at all. However, much to Yoongi’s dismay, they don’t leave either, but instead stay floating around the quiet pair gossiping amongst themselves. He does realize at some point one of them actually recognizes him and somehow telepathically relays that information to the rest of the group because, while they don’t pry, they do seem very keen on keeping him a part of the conversation.

“Did you hear about Counselman Yong Songjin?” the blonde woman asks, leaning in as if worried about being overheard.

A couple of the women nod and they all look solemn as if someone had died.

“You mean that young, good looking one?” another woman answers eventually. “The one with the video scandal?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” a different woman replies.

The blonde nods and says, “Some are saying they want to hold an emergency election and have him removed.”

She leans even further in and all the other women follow suit, creating a tight wall of bodies around Yoongi and Mina. Yoongi shifts uncomfortably at their proximity and regrets leaving his bodyguard in the car.

“Mental illness,” the blonde whispers. “That’s what they’re saying.”

The women let out surprised gasps. Yoongi works hard to not roll his eyes at the dramatic scene.

“But he’s so young,” someone says.

“And handsome,” another says.

The women titter. As if the mental stability of a government official is some light-hearted joke.

“What scandal?” Yoongi hears himself say out loud. He immediately clamps his jaw shut with a click. He is not interested in participating in this farce of a conversation.

More gasps from the women, this time at his horrifying ignorance of current events.

The blonde is the one that gives him a pitying look before explaining, “Counselman Yong Songjin has been going around saying that vampire and magic are real. And not only real, but happening all around us.”

“Of course vampires are real, Hyorin-ssi,” another woman says. “Just because that sort of thing doesn’t happen around here, doesn’t mean it’s not real. No, what Counselman Yong is saying is that vampires are in control of everything. He’s saying they control the banks, the businesses, the government.”

A couple of the women shudder.

“Soyeon-ssi, not so loud,” the blonde says. Then her eyes flicker down to Mina, as if remembering there is a child present. “Let’s not speak of such taboo things now. If the Counselman is correct, then I hope he does as he says and steps up to fix things. We can just have magicians and vampires running around the nicer parts of Seoul unchecked, now can we?”

“You don’t think this is a ploy for the next election, do you?” one of the other women says.

“Well, he’s handsome enough for my vote, crazy or not,” the blonde retorts, giggling. The other women respond with their own conspiratorial giggles.

Yoongi’s brow furrows as he thinks about what he just learned. Granted, he’s been a bit distracted the last few weeks and not been keeping up with current news. He files the conversation away for now, and mentally reminds himself to look up more about this counselman later.

Suddenly, the woman in the green apron that had talked to Yoongi and Mina in the front hallway appears, shoving her way between two of the women. She looks around, suspiciously, and then says, “We’re going to light the candles on the cake now. Come sing.”

All the women disperse immediately, excited at the birthday party’s progress. Yoongi stands up, grumbling under his breath about how the children at this party certainly did not need any more sugar. He reaches down and takes Mina’s hand in his. She sticks close to his leg as they follow the gaggle of tittering gossips to the cake.

~

The waters of death can be quite tricky. When one looks out on the river, their eyes meet an expansive grey plane, as if looking on the largest and calmest of oceans. However, any good traveler in death knows this is an illusion. The river itself has many currents that pull a wanderer this way and that. And the ground under one’s feet is not a flat riverbed, but rather a terrain all its own with elevation gains and losses and treacherous cliffs. The river at the entryway to death is shallow, flat, and calm. The deeper into death one walks, the more perilous the path becomes.

Eunha doesn’t know how long she’s been walking for. Time also loses much of its meaning in death. Here, time is slippery and doesn’t match the plane of the living. Here, everything is hazardous.

She trudges forward, slowly and carefully, feeling for a sure footing with each step. While her body propels her further down her path by rote memory, the river is also eager for her to continue, not putting up much of a fight as she walks. If anything, the waters seem to playfully pull and tug at her body, urging her on, urging her to be faster.

She doesn’t give into that playfulness, though. She knows to keep her guard up. One wrong move and she can slip. Once under the water, it would surely pull her along further faster than she wants. She’s not ready for that journey yet.

The further Eunha travels on, the colder the water becomes around her. The depth has water lapping at her waist as she walks and she’s glad for the extra-strength warming spell she cast before she entered the river. Even with it warming her corporeal body, the iciness of the water is starting to numb her lower half.

Finally, she reaches the spot she’s been looking for. To the untrained eye, nothing looks different about this spot in the river. If not for the water being waist deep, this could be the entrance of the river. However, Eunha feels the insistent tug here and feels the bend in the path at her feet. She’s come to the first gateway in the river.

The gateways, like the river itself, can be tricky to travelers. They are meant to be the passageways, seven in total, that the dead pass through on their final journey. As they are carried along by the river, the gateways signify the distance the soul has from their previous life. Souls trying to come back to life must be incredibly strong to pass back through the gateways upriver. Each gateway holding its own traps and deceptions to prevent such malfeasance.

The air here is different, too, not the stale nothingness that the river has smelled of thus far. The air has hints of dark and damp, an earthy and loamy scent. Despite the smell and the almost-frantic pull of the current, the gateway is soundless—the embodiment of a deathly silence.

For what Eunha is about to do, she knows she needs to be at least to the first gateway. She hopes this is far enough for what she’s planning. She’s not come prepared to travel further than this today.

Haegeum and bow still held tight in one hand, Eunha holds the paper lantern in front of her face. She squints at it to make sure no harm came to it while she was traversing the river. Happy that it is still intact, she sets it gently on the surface of the water.

She bends over to get closer to the floating lantern, bobbing softly in the current. She imagines the symbols for summoning, visitation, and smooth sailing. After taking in a deep breath, Eunha lets out a hum and blows on the lantern. A small flame flickers to life inside of it and it sets off on the course made by her breath.

She straightens up and watches the lantern float away past the gateway and out onto the horizon of the river. She repeats the prayer she had written on the outside of the lantern’s paper to herself as she watches it go.

Only when the lantern and its faint glowing light are no longer visible against the monotonous landscape does Eunha allow herself to think. The first thing she thinks is to question whether she should be doing this. She doesn’t let the thought plague her for long. Instead, she turns her attention to the heavy feeling inside of her, the numbness of emotion that’s overtaken her the last couple of weeks. Something is wrong, she knows it. However, that worry doesn’t spark the anxiety she thinks it should. That thought in and of itself is worrying. Still, it’s a worry that feels distant and apart from her.

Everything below her waist slowly goes numb. She thinks she should be worrying about that too. If her legs and feet are numb, it’s going to be harder, more treacherous, on her way back to the doorway home. She can’t do anything about that now, though. She’s already used the lantern. She knows to turn back before it has had its effect will be a waste, with the lantern’s limited uses. Plus, she rationalizes to herself, if she doesn’t stay to make sure the lantern has worked the way it is supposed to, she won’t know what other accidental souls might be summoned.

Mostly, thought, she just doesn’t feel enough to care. She knows she should be preserving her life. There are reasons to be home. Mina. Her music. Yoongi. But she doesn’t feel much of anything at all. Only a logical, disconnected voice in her head, telling her she will want to be alive later when emotion returns, keeps her from letting go entirely where she stands.

Before long she can see the shimmer of a figure approaching on what appears to be the horizon of the water. The shimmer is faint, the greyness infusing the person, as happens to all souls who reside here. At first, the shimmer is faint and Eunha has to squint to see it. But soon, the figure is getting closer, making their way up the river.

They aren’t walking, but rather floating along the surface, as if their feet are made of light buoys under the water. They bob and float, rather than walk like a corporeal body would. The stillness of the water helps them traverse the space quickly.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, the person—or rather, soul of a person—is before Eunha. They are all grey and blurry, edges all undefined. The waters of death have eroded away this soul as it does all souls who come here, until they are simply part of the river again, ready to be poured out again in life.

Eunha smiles at the floating soul in front of her, not really able to make out recognizable shapes or patterns of the person they used to be. But their vibrations she recognizes. Their soul she is intimately familiar with. Even though the soul doesn’t have a discernible face, she feels them returning her smile.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Bone-aching weariness. An exhausted tiredness that leaves her body feeling heavy and her brain a little fuzzy. The nurse had tutted around the room five minutes ago, checking vitals and the line on the IV. The way she was mumbling admonishments under her breath, one might think her patient wanted to show up to a hospital battered and worse for wear.

Eunha didn’t have the heart to ask for the date. The taxi had dropped her off at the emergency room entrance in a rainy grey predawn light. She doesn’t know what time it is now, let alone how long she’s been away from her life for. The thought of her life leaves her with a pit of anxiety in her core. That gnawing maw is the only thing that can truly compete with the weariness that makes her body feel so very weighed down.

The nurse had also mentioned that someone had been called on her behalf. In her sleep deprived, worn out state, Eunha hadn’t truly registered the implications of that. However, in the near-silent hospital room, with the nurse moved on to her other charges, Eunha is starting to panic. Who could the hospital have called? She hadn’t given them a name—hers or anyone else’s. Dread creeps over her as she waits. All thoughts of trying to get a bit of sleep vanished.

The privacy curtain surrounding her bed is quietly pulled back and Eunha snaps her head towards the intruder, wincing at the sudden movement.

“Oh, shit, Eunha,” Yoongi breathes out the words. He quickly steps inside, closing the curtain behind him, to shield them both from the rest of the patients in the room, and pulls down his facemask.

Eunha watches through half-open eyes, the one side still swollen. She feels small, vulnerable, in the hospital bed with nothing but a hospital gown and thin blanket between her and the rest of the world. Fluids are being dripped into her system via an IV in the back of her hand. She is at least grateful for whatever pain medication they gave her because it’s doing its job.

Yoongi stands at her bedside awkwardly for a moment wearing a baggy black tee and black beanie, white facemask bunched around his chin, wringing his fingers together. He makes a small sound in his throat that might have come out as a whine if he hadn’t swallowed it down. Eunha hadn’t seen what she looks like yet, but she’s guessing it must be pretty bad.

“What time is it?” she croaks out, throat dry. “Where is Mina?”

Yoongi hurries to grab the cup that’s sitting on the stand by her headboard. He helps angle the straw to her lips. Eunha gulps at the water until the cup is empty.

She studies Yoongi’s face. His brow is slightly furrowed and his jaw is clenched. Maybe on a normal day, when Eunha isn’t hyper aware of every little thing, she wouldn’t have noticed, but today she notices. He’s tense and worried. Her thoughts are jumbled, trying to piece together what might have possibly happened while she was gone.

“Where is Mina, Yoongi?” Eunha says more forcefully.

Yoongi blinks as if just realizing she’s asking a question.

“Mina is at my place with Jimin and Namjoon,” Yoongi murmurs. “She’s okay. Honestly, she’s been handling all of this better than I did.”

Eunha snorts a low laugh and then winces as pain shoots from various places in her body from the movement. Yoongi puts the cup back on the bedside table and then awkwardly hovers with his arms out like he wants to help Eunha adjust how she’s sitting but doesn’t know how to initiate contact.

Instead he opts to keep talking. “We- I decided it might be better that I come alone. When the hospital called, they didn’t give any information on how you were. I thought, well, I thought for a lot of reasons it would be better to have me find out before anything else happened.”

“Thank you,” Eunha says. Feelings of gratefulness and terror swirl together in her chest.  “Can we- can we call her? I just want to talk to her.”

“Of course! Of course,” Yoongi says quickly as he rushes to pull out his phone. He’s already calling before Eunha can say thank you again.

“Hey, Joon-ah,” Yoongi says into the phone. “Can you put Mina on the phone? Eunha is here and wants to talk to her.”

She can hear some muffled voices on the other end of the phone, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Yoongi’s eyes flick across Eunha’s body quickly as if making an assessment of sorts. Then, after a “yeah, I think so,” he hands the phone to Eunha, which she takes with a shaking hand.

“Mina, love?” Eunha says.

Yoongi waves a hand at the curtain without making eye contact, using his other hand to pull his facemask back up, stepping out of the little bubble of privacy curtains before Eunha can nod her head.

“Mina, love, Eomma is okay,” Eunha says, infusing her voice with as much confidence as she can muster. “Uncle Yoongi says you’ve been good? You’ve been helping take care of the house, right?”

There is silence on the other end of the phone. Eunha closes her eyes and wills the tears back into their ducts. She tries again, “Eomma is okay, love. The doctors are healing me up right now and I’ll be home- I’ll be back to Uncle Yoongi’s as soon as they say I can go.”

The silence creates a chasm in Eunha’s chest. She reaches up a hand to press into her sternum as if there is a real hole there she can patch up. In her tiredness, she thinks she can probably switch the call to video, but she doesn’t know how to do that and doesn’t want to mess up Yoongi’s phone with it being something far fancier than she’s ever owned.

Eunha hears some quiet murmuring and a slightly louder voice of what sounds like a doctor or someone in charge outside the curtain.

“I have to go love, I think the doctor is here,” she says into the phone. “I’ll be home soon. Be good for Uncle Jimin and Uncle Namjoon, okay?”

She hits the “end call” button just as the curtain is being pulled back. She looks away as she tries to dab away the tears that fell unbidden onto her cheeks with her free hand. However, that just causes pain to bloom where forgotten bruises get bumped by her palm.

Frustrated and tired, Eunha looks back over to see a short man picking up her chart at the end of her bed without introducing himself. Yoongi has moved back to her side at the head of the bed, refilling her cup of water—probably to give him something to do to make him look busy.

When the man with her chart seems satisfied with perusing the document, he looks up at Eunha.

“Glad to see you’re awake. Looks like you’ve got some nasty bumps and bruises, young lady,” the man says. He comes around to the bedside opposite Yoongi. As he fiddles with checking IV-fluid levels, he says, “This man here says he’s your guardian. Is that correct?”

Eunha takes a sideways glance at Yoongi just in time to see his ears turn bright red. She swallows before she says, “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Good, good. We’re going to move you to a more comfortable suite. I would like you to stay until I see that rib of yours healed a bit more. And to get a couple more rounds of vitamins and fluids in you.”

“My rib?” Eunha asks, trying to take all the information in, despite the waves of exhaustion now crashing over her.

“It’s broken. Well, only cracked, thankfully.” His lips come together in a thin line of disapproval. 

Eunha furrows her brow. She doesn’t quite remember when her rib might have cracked, but guesses during her struggle with her abductors. “My rib is broken.”

The man has stopped fiddling with the IV. Now he’s looking straight at Eunha looking very unimpressed. Again, Eunha wonders if the whole medical staff thinks she intentionally went out and injured herself. He says, “Yes, your rib is broken. Luckily, that seems to be the only broken bone. Your face is bruised and I think you’ve managed to avoid fracturing any bones in your cheek or around your eye.”

The man moves forward into Eunha’s space to get a close look at her facial wounds. Eunha flinches backwards at the sudden movement, pain shooting through her at the rapid movement. As her breathing quickens both from the shock and pain, she thinks to herself that yes, yes her rib is broken. She feels Yoongi softly slide his hand into hers and she tries unsuccessfully to take a deep breath.

“I don’t think there will be any scarring, but I’ll have to reassess when some of the swelling goes down. I’ve prescribed some ointments the nurses will help you with. They’ll be more to take home with you,” the man shifts to looking at Yoongi with his last sentence. “She’ll need more rest once she’s home, but if she stays here for another seven or so days, I trust she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Seven days?” Eunha asks loudly. She can feel Yoongi squeeze her hand with his. “I am not staying here for seven days.”

The man purses his lips in clear annoyance. “Given the state you’re in, I don’t think you should be making any declarations or decisions of the sort, young lady.”

“Excuse me?” Eunha practically shouts the question.

“Eunha,” Yoongi murmurs.

Anger blooms inside her wondering whose side Yoongi is on. Are they all patronizing her right now? Her exhaustion is clouding her thoughts, but she’s pretty sure everyone is patronizing her right now.

“Yes, well, get some rest,” the man continues, his face remaining neutral. He looks at Yoongi again and says, “If she’s still agitated, tell the nurse. I’ll leave a recommendation for a sedative to help her sleep.”

Eunha gasps and Yoongi’s hand squeezing her own is the only thing that stops her from ripping the IV line out of her skin. 

The man turns back towards the curtain. Just before he snaps it shut, he says, “That order for the suite should be through the system in a couple of hours.”

Eunha stares at the still-rustling curtain where the man had been standing moments before.

“I can’t stay here, Yoongi,” she says finally, voice much quieter. “Hospitals. I can’t-“

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do. We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can, okay?,” Yoongi says. He grabs the cup of water and helps her take a few more sips. “Do you think you can sleep? You need rest.”

Eunha closes her eyes and tries to take another deep breath. She thinks the doctor must have put an additional dose of pain killer in her IV, because breathing is easier now and the pain is lessened. However, her brain is feeling foggier with each passing moment. Without opening her eyes, she says, “Can you go back to Mina, please? I would feel better if you were with her.”

She opens her eyes to find Yoongi looking at her with his mouth slightly agape. But as soon as his eyes meet hers, he’s pulling himself together, and moving to fill her water cup once more.

“I’ll go take care of Mina. You call me if you need anything. Please?” he asks as he arranges everything—water cup, nurse call button, tissues—within arms reach for Eunha.

“Yeah, thank you,” Eunha says. A sudden thought drifts through her fogging mind and she exclaims, “Oh wait, my haegeum? Did it- where is it?”

“At home,” Yoongi says as he finishes moving things around the room. “Everything you left at work is safely at home now.”

Eunha detects some kind of tone in his statement, but she can’t read it. She’s too tired to keep fighting for information anyway, so she just nods in acceptance.

“Okay, I’ll come back later to see about how we can get you home sooner,” Yoongi says. He fiddles with his phone in his hands, clearly not sure how to leave. Eunha once again thinks she must look pretty bad to have him this worried.

“I’ll be fine until you get back. I’ll just sleep,” she says, more to try to comfort the man in front of her than anything else.

He nods, either believing her lies or understanding he needs to just accept the comfort. “Okay, I’m off then.”

Before Eunha can even process what’s happening, Yoongi leans over and brushes his lips lightly on her forehead. Then he’s gone, out the curtain, green fabric waving wildly from the pole suspending it in the air. Eunha thinks she can still feel an echo of the warm buzz of his soul on her skin.

~

Sleep, or even real rest, in a hospital is a joke. A nurse comes by what feels like every 15 minutes to poke and prod Eunha, checking vitals and fluid levels and whatever else they are looking for. Realistically, she realizes they are probably coming every hour or maybe every two hours, but it feels like less time. Each time she’s almost dozed off, sleep finally claiming her tired and aching body, she’s jolted awake by another pair of hands moving the IV line in her hand or pressing into sore spots on her body.

Beyond having no body autonomy and being slowly tortured with no rest, there’s the constant humming in the air. Hospitals, at the best of times, are the worst—they smell of antiseptic and filtered air, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the most distracting way, and the quiet of the ward just shows how very ill the patients around her are. 

However, as someone attuned to death, hospitals are actually the worst. Souls so frequently cross the border between life and death here that the doorway is always cracked open just a little bit. Eunha can feel it under her skin and she hates it. Perhaps if she were in better condition—not exhausted, beaten up, and terrified—she might be able to ignore the discomfort. She might feel safer with her haegeum with her. However, none of this is true.

While the hospital is certainly an upgrade from being duct taped to a chair and being hit across the face, it’s not much of an upgrade. Especially when the doctors and nurses seem to be almost as awful as XYZ. She wants to leave, desperately.

Eventually, two friendly looking nurses show up with a wheelchair.

“Am I being discharged?” Eunha asks hopefully.

One of the two nurses, a taller man with a friendly smile, laughs softly as he says, “No, just moving you to your new suite.”

“New suite?” Eunha asks, trying to process everything. “Does Yoongi know I’m being moved?”

“Yoongi?” the other nurse, a shorter woman with a sour face, asks. 

“My, uh- my guardian? He was here earlier?” At least Eunha hopes he was actually here earlier and not an hallucination. “He won’t know where I am if I move.”

“Ah, your guardian, yes,” the man says. He’s busy grabbing IV bags off the stationary pole attached to the bed and moving them over to hang off the wheelchair. “He’s the one that requested we move you.”

“Oh,” is all Eunha can think to say.

“It’s nice you have a benefactor, someone in your state,” the grumpy nurse says. “Although, I think his spoiling you is going to make it so you don’t really learn your lesson here.”

“Excuse me?” Eunha says, jaw slack.

“Let’s get this over with,” she says, ignoring Eunha’s angry surprise.

The two nurses help her to move from the bed to the wheelchair. She suddenly realizes exactly how injured her body is. Everything aches. There is a fire in her side where her rib is broken. She fights the tears that automatically burn at her eyes at the sudden influx of pain.

“We should have given her more pain medication before trying to move her,” the man says to the woman.

The woman just tuts as she secures Eunha’s feet in the chair’s footrest. Eunha recognizes her now as the nurse that was grumbling about her injuries during an earlier check up. This bodes well.

Eunha grips the armrests of the wheelchair and closes her eyes, willing the pain to fade away. The grumpy nurse starts pushing her chair, navigating out the room past the other curtained patient areas and into the hallway. She’s pushing slowly, as if she doesn’t have anything else in the world to be doing today. Eunha supposes she’s happy they are going slowly so as not to jostle her rib. The other nurse walks along with them amiably.

“Did you see that news report this morning?” the man asks cheerfully, clearly happy to just gossip while they walk at a snail’s pace down the hallway.

The grumpy nurse grunts before she replies, “No. I’ve been on a double shift since early this morning.”

Eunha thinks that must explain why she’s so irritated.

“Ah, well, that politician? I don’t remember his name. He’s that young one, clearly trying to make his path to Mayor of Seoul, you know him?” the other nurse pushes on. When no one says anything in response, he continues, “Well, anyway, he apparently made some speech at some private party last night. The video was leaked to the press this morning. It was playing on all the morning news broadcasts.”

When he lapses into silence, the other nurse finally barks out, “So?”

“Ah, well,” he says happily, as if he was waiting for some kind of engagement, “he was talking about magic. You know, all that shady business that happens in the bad parts of town.”

The man waves his hands vaguely in a direction, as if to reference some geography that probably meant something to the other nurse. If Eunha were to guess, he’s talking about the area of Incheon she was just held in—or even the neighborhood of her previous rooftop apartment.

“He was saying magic isn’t just happening in crime dens, but everywhere,” the nurse sounds incredulous as he says it. “He says it’s all around us, we are just ignorant to it. That the hooligans are just walking around in broad daylight!”

Eunha feels her heart rate pick up as fear grips her body. 

“How ridiculous,” the grumpy nurse grumbles.

“No, there’s more!” the man says. Eunha thinks he sounds quite gleeful for someone who has discovered the ‘criminal element’ is infiltrating his life. The nurse pushing the wheelchair picks up her pace just slightly.

“He said that vampires don’t just control the slums,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper in gleeful conspiracy. “He said vampires are behind in the shadows everywhere, controlling all the big businesses and industries. He as good as said vampires are controlling the government. And he’s made it his life mission to stop them. He’s going to take out the magic-wielding criminals and the vampires. Imagine!”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me,” the grumpy nurse says.

Eunha’s tired mind is reeling, trying to piece together what she’s just heard. Someone is going around getting filmed exposing the vampire coven. If this man is human, he would have been stopped by now. Eunha feels her head start to ache, as the chipper nurse pushes the elevator call button. Nothing makes sense.

The two nurses keep talking as they walk through the hospital, but Eunha tunes them out. The pain is reverberating through her body and she just wants to lay down and sleep.

She opens her eyes with a start when someone shakes her shoulder. “Miss, we’re here. Let’s help you into bed.”

Eunha looks around to find herself in a private suite—a very fancy private suite. 

“Where am I?” she asks.

The shorter nurse tuts in annoyance, but the man answers, “We’re in your new suite. Do you remember us walking here?”

“Maybe we should recheck her for head injuries,” the grumpy nurse comments sarcastically.

“Miss? Do you remember coming to the hospital? We changed rooms at the request of your guardian,” the man tries again.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Eunha says. “I just don’t understand. I can’t afford this room.”

If Eunha were to be honest, she actually can’t afford the bed in the public ward either, but her brain isn’t letting her worry about that right now.

“Ah, well, your guardian requested it. Is that going to be a problem?” the man asks.

Eunha looks around the room. It is quiet and far away from other patients. Maybe, she decides, she won’t fight this today. So, she nods and the nurses tuck her into bed. They hang up her IVs and add another bag of something to the pole.

“Will you tell my guardian I’m here? Give him my new room number?” Eunha asks. She realizes as she’s speaking she doesn’t have her phone or any way of contacting him. Both nurses look at her unimpressed. The grumpy nurse is frowning with a scowl furrowing her brow and the man is giving a sugary fake smile that turns Eunha’s insides.

“You can call out from this phone,” the grumpy nurse points to her bedside table. “Just press 9 first.”

“Alright, I’ve given you fresh painkillers and vitamins,” the man says with a smile. “Get some sleep now. We’ll wake you for dinner.”

Eunha nods meekly from her prone position and the two nurses bustle out of the room. As soon as the pain subsides, sleep takes her quickly.

~

Eunha sleeps hard and when a new friendly looking nurse is waking her for dinner she’s groggy, feeling like she needs another solid 12 hours of sleep. Maybe more. Her body needs the time to recover, she knows, and she’s honestly not sure what kind of painkillers they have her on, but they must be strong. She’s glad for the meal and even more glad when everything is cleared away and she can go back to sleep. 

After dinner, in the fog of sleepiness, Eunha briefly wonders if everything is okay with Mina, but she realizes quickly she cannot call Yoongi. She can’t call anyone, because she doesn’t have their phone numbers. Yoongi’s number is long gone with her phone—wherever it ended up. Eunha sighs. She can only hope Mina is okay and she’s grateful to have Mina avoid the hospital as much as possible. With those thoughts and wishes floating around in her head, she quickly falls back asleep in the quiet room.

“It’s been a over 12 hours on these pain meds, I think we’ll go ahead and stop them now that you’re moved to this quieter suite,” an elderly doctor says, not looking at Eunha but at her chart. “I’ll note to have the nurses bring you over-the-counter pain medication.”

This man had woken her up an hour after she had finally fallen asleep after dinner. Eunha looks at him with distaste, though her mind is still foggy. The exhaustion is making her near tears. With a snap of the clipboard, he walks over to the IV and makes a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Any other complaints?” he asks, finally making eye contact with Eunha.

She shakes her head to deny any further problems—at least none this doctor could do anything about.

The doctor nods once and then says, “Press the nurse call button if you need anything else. Someone will come check on you in the morning before breakfast.”

Without waiting for much response, the doctor is bustling out of the room. Eunha stares perplexed at the sliding door before she sighs to settle back into the pillow. Despite her exhaustion, she’s more awake now than she’s been all day. 

When she closes her eyes to try to will herself back to sleep, the buzzing begins. She can’t tell if it’s physical or auditory, the vibrations feel like they are coming from inside her head. Then she feels the familiar tension pull at her scalp.

Sighing, she instinctively tries to roll to her left side to ease the tension by curling herself smaller. She almost screams at the pain that radiates from her rib cage. Panting she relaxes herself onto her back again, trying to will the pain to fade. 

“Fuck that doctor, seriously,” Eunha whispers angrily at the dark. “Fuck this whole fucking hospital.”

She closes her eyes. She muses that maybe if she pretends to be asleep, it’ll just magically become true. At the same time, the pulling in her scalp worsens and begins running down her neck along her spine.

Suddenly, as if a coil is released, the tension snaps and fades immediately. Eunha sucks in her breath, careful of her ribs this time, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Someone nearby most likely just died and a reaper helped their soul along. She wouldn’t be feeling every single death and soul passing like this otherwise. Fear prickles like moths in her stomach.

Now that she thinks about it, this place is probably crawling with grim reapers, as well as all sorts of other non-human elements. The very people the two gossipy nurses were perplexed about earlier, trying to imagine them living beyond their ghettos. The non-humans that more accurately run this city and inhabit every neighborhood and crawl through all the businesses and public services. Of course, it’s always been in the non-human element’s best interest to remain somewhat elusive and mysterious. It’s easier to co-exist from the shadows.

The tension along Eunha’s scalp is pulling, ever-so-slightly, again. She runs a hand through her hair in frustration. Will a nurse give her a strong pain medication if she asks for it? She looks wistfully at the call button. She wishes she had Yoongi’s number. Calling to check in on Mina would be a wonderful distraction right now.

With no sense of time, the pulling in her scalps worsens until it snaps again, giving her a few moments of reprieve. Soon, it repeats itself —over and over.

Just how many people are dying in this hospital?

And why do they need the assistance of a grim reaper—each and every one of them?

Eunha wants to scream in frustration, but the repeated pulling and snap of release is making her nauseous. She’s exhausted.

Finally, she hears a soft click as the door to her room slides open and a tall, thin person wearing blue scrubs comes into the dimly lit room. Eunha watches as they walk to her file and check it before walking closer to check her IV bags. When they look over to Eunha, their face shifts in surprise to see her awake.

“Please,” Eunha says. “Can I have something for pain?”

The nurse smiles at her kindly and says, “According to your chart, you’re already on the max dose of the over-the-counter given to you at last check-in.”

Eunha can’t stifle the whimper. She’s so tired and just wants to sleep. She says, “Please, it’s not strong enough. I can’t sleep because I hurt.”

“Now, that might be true, dear, but the doctor is pretty confident you’re just drug seeking since you won’t even give us your name, so I’m afraid anything stronger is off limits,” the nurse says. They move again to the chart at the end of the bed and make a couple of notes.

Eunha, in her exhaustion, doesn’t quite understand what the nurse is saying. “Can you call my guardian?”

The nurse frowns from the end of the bed. “It’s the middle of the night. Get some sleep and I’m sure your guardian will be by tomorrow.”

Eunha opens her mouth to protest, but the nurse is already moving towards the door. They are gone before Eunha can think of anything in response.

She closes her eyes and balls her fingers into fists as the tension along her scalp and neck become too great again. She resigns herself to a long, tiring night.

She’s not sure how time still flows around her as her skin is pushed and pulled over and over again. But soon, the light in the room seems a bit brighter, dawn creeping over Seoul. A soft click of the door brings her attention to the newcomer, slipping through the entryway.

A pretty woman in a business suit steps into the room, her heels clacking on the linoleum. Eunha thinks she’s quite pretty. The sort of woman other women might be jealous of.

Looking back on this moment, Eunha would kick herself for not seeing the obvious. And maybe if she were less tired and broken from a night of terror and pain, she might be more alert. Unfortunately, she’s not alert and just eyes the new woman warily.

“Hello, Miss, I am a social worker with the hospital, Yong Suhwa,” the woman says with a sharp bow.

Eunha just bows in return without speaking.

The woman pulls a rolling chair up to the side of the bed and sits delicately in it. She glances around the room, taking in the sterile emptiness of the room. She turns her face back to Eunha and says, “How are you feeling, Miss?”

Eunha looks at her and blinks. After a moment she realizes that she’s been asked a question. After a time, she responds with, “I’m tired.”

Yong Suhwa hums with a nod.

Eunha is too tired to figure out if the silence that stretches between them is awkward or not. 

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Miss?” the woman says, finally.

“I guess not, but I’m not sure what I can say,” Eunha says truthfully.

Yong Suhwa nods again and says, “Just do your best.”

Eunha nods tentatively.

“Do you mind telling me your name?” the woman asks first.

“I, uh, would rather not,” Eunha says.

The woman writes something down on a small notepad she pulls out of her suit pocket. She asks, “How did you sustain these injuries?”

“Uh,” Eunha stalls again. “I, uh, am not sure I can tell you that either.”

Eunha feels a bit hot under the woman’s stern gaze. She doesn’t like how trapped she feels, especially now with someone trying to will her way into information that will just end up putting Eunha in more danger.

“Are you worried I won’t believe you?” the woman asks, pen poised over the notepad.

This catches Eunha off guard. “Believe me? No, I just, I can’t tell you the details.”

“Miss, I promise that no matter what you say, I will do what I can to keep you safe,” Yong Suhwa says. Eunha thinks she’s trying to sound comforting, but it just sounds hollow and maybe even a bit threatening.

Alarm bells finally go off in Eunha’s mind. She knew there was a weird aura about the woman when she walked in, but she didn’t notice it in her delirium. She’s a ghoul.

“I, uh,” Eunha tries to stay calm as she speaks. She wets her lips with her tongue, trying to figure out a way out of this room, out of this hospital. She’s trapped. No weapon, no musical instrument, no pain medication, no sleep. “I, uh, am really tired. I think I would like to sleep some more.”

Eunha wills her breathing to not spike or sound anxious. If there is a ghoul here, then there is at least one vampire taking interest in living patients in this hospital. Vampires having backdoor deals with the blood banks and sometimes the morgue is not uncommon. But having them poking around the living, that’s not common at all.

“There, there,” the ghoul says, the comforting tone making goosebumps break out across Eunha’s skin. “I will let you sleep and come back and see if you’re feeling better to answer my questions. Is there anything I can help you with? Get you something to help you sleep?”

“No!” Eunha doesn’t mean to shout the word, but the thought of being put on a sedative when she now knows that she can’t let her guard down sends terror through her in waves. “I mean, no, I’m sleepy enough on my own. I just need rest, like the doctor said.”

Yong Suhwa stands and leans over Eunha with an eerie smile on her face. She reaches out her hand as if to brush hair off of Eunha’s face, but Eunha flinches back into the pillow instinctively. The ghoul pulls her hand back with a small “tut.” 

“Rest well, then, Miss,” the ghoul says.

With a smart turn on her heels, she strides out the door, closing it with an ominous click behind her.

~

Yoongi hears raised voices before he’s even to the door of the private hospital suite. He quickens his walk and pauses for a moment to listen before pulling open the suite door.

“I told you, I am not some homeless drug seeker,” Eunha’s voice is muffled and sounds strained. “Since you won’t treat me properly, I am simply asking to be discharged.”

“Now, Miss, calm down,” comes another voice.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Eunha shouts.

Yoongi decides to open the door to the suite, his brow wrinkled in concern.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s looking at, after a momentary panic in seeing Eunha’s hospital bed empty. There is a doctor standing near the bed with a frown on his face, arms crossed across his white doctor’s coat. A nurse is standing by the bed, looking ready to pounce. And the person they are ready to pounce on is Eunha, who is looking small and pale—even paler than usual. The dark purple bags under her eyes blend with the bruises, now color her face as they start to shift from dark red and purple to green. She’s standing, fists tight at her sides, wearing her dirty street clothes, covered in blood and grime, from when she checked into the hospital. Her hair is pulled back off her face and her whole body tremors slightly. 

“Miss, you need to change into your hospital clothes and get back into bed now,” the doctor says firmly, clearly not having heard the door.

“No, I have asked to leave. You can’t keep me here against my will,” Eunha says in a shaky voice.

“I have said we will call your guardian after breakfast,” the doctor continues. He sounds exasperated, as if he’s talking to a willful 5-year-old about a new toy, not a grown woman who is clearly scared and asking to not be held against her will.

“Miss, your guardian will say the same thing. You need rest,” the nurse tries.

Eunha scoffs. “Rest? Rest! I need to leave. I’m not safe here. I can’t rest here. You won’t even give me pain medication!”

Yoongi frowns at that. 

“You have been given proper over-the-counter pain treatment,” the doctor replies.

“Bullshit. I can take that at home. Now please get out of my way,” Eunha says. Even as she says it, she slumps backwards into the chair behind her.

The nurse moves forward at the same time Yoongi does. They clearly don’t see Yoongi, as they reach out for Eunha.

“Come to bed now,” they say.

Eunha leans forward, arms wrapped around her rib cage. She grits out, “No, you can’t keep me here. I want to leave.”

Yoongi’s heart seizes at how broken she sounds. He surges forward past the doctor and stands in front of Eunha so the nurse is forced to take a step back.

“I believe I heard her say that she’d like to leave,” Yoongi says in a low, menacing voice. “So, please bring me the paperwork to check her out now.”

“Ah, you’re here,” the doctor says, ignoring the tone in Yoongi’s voice.

“Yes,” Yoongi says as he narrows his eyes at the doctor, “and now that I’m here, I’d like the paperwork to begin checking out.”

“This patient is in no condition to be checked out, sir,” the doctor says. “Honestly, after this little tantrum, I’d like to ask for a psych consult.”

Eunha scoffs under her breath, but otherwise doesn’t move or speak.

Yoongi, on the other hand, takes a deep breath, body ready to fight. Instead, he says, “I suggest you keep the rest of your opinions to yourself, doctor. Please go get the paperwork and give us a moment alone.”

No one in the room moves.

“Unless you would like me to call my lawyer,” Yoongi adds.

That seems to have been some kind of magic word, because both the nurse and the doctor glance at each other before quickly vacating the room.

When they are finally alone, Eunha still sitting taut at the edge of the chair, fingers digging into her knees, Yoongi moves to crouch in front of her. He bends so that he can look up into her face and see the utter exhaustion and fear etched across the lines of her brow and in the tightness of her lips.

“Hey, it’s okay, everyone is gone now,” he murmurs. His hands hover on either side of her, not sure what to do with them. He wants to reach out, maybe pat her back, but he’s honestly not sure what will hurt and, perhaps more importantly, he’s not not sure what he’s allowed to touch, if anything at all.

“They want to keep me here. Just like the thugs were keeping me,” Eunha croaks out. 

Yoongi feels his heart breaking into a thousand pieces. He should have brought her home last night. He feels stupid for trusting the doctors.

Another beat passes before Eunha falls forwards, straight into Yoongi’s outstretched arms. As she wraps out her arms around his neck, tucking all of herself against his body, she gives out a small yelp of pain.

“Hey, hey, careful,” Yoongi says as he wraps his arms gently around hers, mindful of potential areas of injury along her ribcage.

He can feel her fisting at his shirt along his shoulder blades, her body still shaking in an alarming way. She whispers so softly, he might not have heard had she not been pressed so closely to his ear, “Please, I want to go home.”

“We’re going right now. I’ll take you home,” Yoongi whispers back. He tightens his grip around Eunha just slightly as he feels the woman melting into his lap.

CHAPTER SIX.

Yoongi awoke with a gasp. He looks around for the source of what woke him and startles at his unfamiliar surroundings. It takes him a full minute of blearily looking around to realize he's in the guest room, now dimly lit by sun coming through the cracks in the curtains. He thinks back to the night before and remembers listening to Mina's singing. He looks down at the sleeping girl. She looks so small yet peaceful, Yoongi feels his heart break a little. 

He gasps again at the realization he's been asleep for who knows how long and is now quite awake. Namjoon still has his phone. Yoongi’s anxiety spikes as he imagines having slept through a critical phone call. Carefully, he wiggles himself out of Mina’s embrace. Once he’s free he speedwalks to the door, opens it slowly, as quietly as possible, and, once through, shuts it just as carefully. Then he’s sprinting down the hallway to the kitchen in search of his phone.

He vaguely registers the puppy pile that are all his BTS brothers sleeping soundly in the living room. Some on the couch, some on a makeshift bed on the floor. All a tangle of limbs and blankets.

Well, all except for Jin, apparently, who is busy cooking. Yoongi has the fleeting thought that he hopes he’s cooking again rather than still.

“Yoongi, good morning,” Jin says, voice still crunchy with sleep. “Did you sleep well?”

“Maybe too well,” Yoongi mumbles as his eyes skim all the surfaces of the kitchen and dining room for his phone. “What time ’s it? Have you seen my phone?”

“It’s just past 8 in the morning and I think Joon has your phone,” Jin says. He flips whatever he’s cooking.

Yoongi turns back around to the living room at Jin’s words in search of Namjoon. When he gets to the mass of sleeping men, he quickly finds his target sleeping soundly on the couch, snoring into the cushion. Yoongi steps through the others sleeping on the floor and shakes Namjoon’s shoulder while eyeing around his body for his phone.

“What time? What?” Namjoon says groggily.

“My phone, Joon-ah, where’s my phone?” Yoongi asks, not worrying about waking anyone else.

“Phone?”

“My phone, Namjoon,” Yoongi says more loudly. “Did I get any calls?”

“Mm,” Namjoon hums as he digs under himself. Yoongi doesn’t want to know exactly where he pulled the phone out from him as he grabs the device.

Without moving, Yoongi taps the screen and unlocks the phone, still warm in his palm from Namjoon’s body heat. He scans the notifications, but there’s nothing relevant. He stands still, closing his eyes, as disappointment washes over him. He only allows himself to wallow before he extracts himself from the room again. No one else had stirred through his loudly determined phone retrieval.

He walks slowly back to the kitchen when something catches his eye in the front hall. A box with a plant sticking out over the open top, a worn messenger bag, and a black, scuffed up instrument case. He stumbles forward, landing on his knees in front of the objects. His fingers move, with featherlight touches, over the instrument case. Someone must have dropped Eunha’s things from her workplace last night after he’d fallen asleep. 

Yoongi lets his fingers grasp the zipper pull of the case and slide it open. He lifts the lid slowly as if afraid of what might pop out. But nothing happens as the lid hits the box behind it. The haegeum lays quiet, nestled in its case. The polished wood of the instrument body seems to be glowing in the filtered light from the living room windows. He’s not sure if he imagines the feeling of life that emanates from the wood and silk strings. He tries to control his breathing as he thinks how Eunha might be feeling right now without it.

As Yoongi’s eyes rove over the contents, he sees a photograph peeking out of the pocket in the lid. Carefully, with a single pointer finger at its edge, he slides the photo out enough to see the image. A small baby is swaddled in a green blanket, snuggled into the arms of a young man. His face is hidden behind the long brown hair that’s hanging to his shoulders, concealing his profile as he looks down at the baby. What’s visible of the background is blurry but Yoongi is reminded of a hospital. A fresh wave of sorrow washes over him inexplicably as he looks at the photo. Quickly, he tucks it back where he found it and closes up and zips up the case again. He wipes the single tear that tracks down his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Those came shortly after you fell asleep. No one wanted to disturb you two,” Jin says. He is standing in the doorway to the kitchen with an apron on and a spatula in his hand. “We hoped it could wait until today.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Yoongi says as he stands, knees cracking. “Everyone stayed over.”

Jin nods even though it was a statement, not a question. “We aren’t about to leave you alone. Especially when we don’t actually know what’s going on.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Yoongi bows his head a little in guilt. “When everyone is up, I’ll explain. At least as much as I know. Let me help you finish breakfast, hyung.”

Jin nods and turns his back, heading towards the stove to flip whatever he’s cooking. They work together in silence for a while, before Jin clears his throat lightly.

“I take it there was no news on your phone?” he asks quietly, eyes focused on his cooking.

Yoongi hums in acknowledgement as he gets some side dishes his mother had brought on her last visit out of the refrigerator. 

“A storm blew through last night,” Jin comments.

Yoongi hums again, not trusting himself to speak as the zing of anxiety shoots through him again. Rain is probably the least of Eunha’s problems, he thinks to himself grimly.

The silence stretches out between them again, but it’s not uncomfortable. They’ve known each other for a decade, and were roommates for much of that time. They know when to push and when to just silently support one another.

Soon, the men still in the living room began stirring. Jungkook was quick to grab the bathroom before anyone else had stirred, leaving a sleepy-eyed Namjoon to sheepishly ask Yoongi if he could use the bathroom in Yoongi’s room before heading down the hall murmuring about Jungkook being a little shit.

Jimin and Taehyung sit at the dining table, giggling quietly over some video on one of their phones. Hoseok is picking up the living room, cleaning up the mess from last night and putting bedding away. Yoongi washes his hands and pats them dry, watching the bustle around him, feeling warm with gratitude.

“Should we wake Mina for breakfast?” Jin asks. He starts bringing food over to the table. To Jimin and Taehyung he says, “Maybe get plates for everyone?”

The two younger members get up immediately, moving around to get plates and utensils for the group, clearly knowing Yoongi’s kitchen as well as they do their own.

“Let’s just keep a plate warm for her. I want her to rest if she needs rest,” Yoongi says after thinking for a moment.

“I know she doesn’t seem to…talk much,” Jin says, hesitating as if looking for the right words to say. Yoongi just nods, encouraging him to continue. “Will she tell us if she needs something? Will she tell you? I worry.”

Yoongi tilts his head in thought. He stares out the far windows in the living room to the morning sun over Seoul. He thinks back to how she tugged on him last night and how she seemed to have no qualms cuddling up to him to sleep.

“Yeah, I think she’ll tell me if she needs something, hyung,” Yoongi says.

Even though he had just said to not wake Mina up, after that question from Jin, he decides just to go peek in on her and make sure she is, in fact, still sleeping. 

The room is still dark and Yoongi only cracks the door open wide enough so he can confirm Mina is still sound asleep under the covers, careful not to let too much light into the room. As he closes the door again he feels a sudden pull in his chest. There is an ache in his lungs and he buckles over at the feeling of the wind being knocked out of him.

He’s on the floor, on his hands and knees, gasping to get air back into his lungs. For a brief moment he thinks he hears Eunha’s voice say his name. Just as quickly, the air floods back into his lungs and he’s taking in big gulps.

“Hyung? Hyung! Are you okay?” he can hear Jungkook’s voice coming from the doorway of the guest bathroom.

Yoongi is already pushing himself off the floor, using the wall to support his weight, before Jungkook is at his side.

“Hyung?”

“I’m okay,” Yoongi pants out, straightening up. “I think it’s just stress.”

“You sure, hyung?” Jungkook asks. He puts an arm around Yoongi as if ready for him to fall down again.

“I’m fine, Kook-ah,” Yoongi says. “Just got a little dizzy for a moment, moved too fast. Let’s go eat breakfast, huh?”

“Alright, hyung,” Jungkook acquiesces, but keeps a wary eye on his hyung as they walk back out to the dining room.

~

Eunha has no idea what time it is. The lighting in the room, dim to begin with, with only the lamp on the desk across the room, has never changed. The only things indicating any passage in time are the growing, incessant aches in her body. The throbbing in her cheek where she’s lost count of how many times she’s been backhanded since her arrival is echoed in her joints in her arms and legs from not being able to change positions. Her vision is also somewhat impaired with her eye partially swollen shut where she’s been hit. She’s also pretty sure she’s going to soil her pants after the juk and water they forced her to eat however long ago that was.

She closes her eyes and searches for the right song for a soul connection. That is her latest theory, anyway. She has the symbols she needs now to send a signal to Yoongi, but she needs a better melody. Maybe, she thinks, it’s less about the symbols in this case, but a melody that would strengthen the bond between the two souls. She clears her throat, ignoring the ache there. Another sign she’s been there quite a while if she’s parched again.

Eunha thinks back to the melody Yoongi and Mina had been listening to—the song Yoongi said Mina had helped with—and tries to hum it. When she thinks she has it right, she stops, listening for any sign of life outside the room. There is the sound of music, muffled, from somewhere in the building. She thinks she must be well underground or hidden away in the building if she can’t even hear traffic or other signs of life.

The melody reverberates out of her parted, bruised lips. As soon as she feels the melody is in her control, she imagines the symbols for connection, communication, and bridges. She can feel the spell working, the feeling of a ball of sunshine expanding from the center of her chest. It’s weak, flickering, but working.

“Yoongi,” she thinks through the bond. She thinks she can almost hear Yoongi’s gasp through the open channel, but can’t tell if it’s real or hopefully imagined.

Just then the door behind her slams open and she immediately stops humming. The spell fizzles out in her chest as a henchmen walks over with another tray of food. He’s a different guy from the last time.

“Time to eat, sunshine,” he says, holding out a spoon to Eunha’s lips.

Despite making a disgusted face at the familiarity in which he speaks to her, she doesn’t resist eating what’s offered this time, not really wanting to add more bruises to her body.

“Boss says if you’re good, I can take you to the washroom,” the henchman says, sloppily putting another spoonful of juk in Eunha’s mouth.

Her stomach clenches with hunger as she eats. All too soon, the bowl is empty and the henchman is tilting the glass of water to her lips. She ends up coughing and losing most of the contents on the henchman’s shirt.

“You little shit,” he says.

Eunha, still coughing, chokes out, “You’re the asshole trying to drown me.”

“Come on, let’s get this over with. I want you tied back up before Boss comes down,” he says.

He pulls a long blade out from his back where he must have it sheathed on a belt. He grips her limbs hard, enough to leave fresh bruises, as he saws the duct tape apart.

As soon as she’s free, Eunha falls forward onto the floor. Everything is stiff and hurts. The man doesn’t give her time to recover, immediately yanking her up by an arm. She wills herself not to cry out in pain, knowing he’s adding more bruises to the tapestry of her skin.

He half-drags, half-carries her by her arm through the door that stands behind her chair. She keeps her eyes up as best she can, taking in everything around her. The door opens to a dimly lit hallway, fluorescent lights overhead flicker in a sickly pale yellow. There are a couple other doors along the hall and a dark stairway at the end. She at least confirms the basement theory. The man pulls her the other direction into what appears to be a restroom. 

He shoves her into the larger wheelchair accessible stall before saying, “Don’t try anything funny. I’ll wait for you in the hallway. If you take too long, you’ll regret it.”

Eunha nods and allows herself a moment to be grateful that Park Donghyun’s henchmen seem to be as idiotic as him.

The outer door to the restroom slams shut and Eunha is left in the green tiled bathroom, with the only audible sound being the sink dripping slowly. First thing she does is stretch out her body, letting her joints fully extend for the first time since who knows how long. Then she quickly attends to her bladder.

Bodily needs taken care of, she hobbles over to the sink to wash her hands. She gasps as she sees her reflection in the broken bathroom mirror. Her left cheek is swollen and crusted over in dried blood. Her left eye is also swollen and black. Her lips have a cut and the swelling on the left explains why she couldn’t whistle.

She quickly looks around the room for anything that can help her make her escape. She knows she doesn’t have much time before the henchman gets bored or suspicious. She realizes probably this restroom has been stripped of anything useful, which is why they felt confident leaving her in here. Little do they know she’s not as pathetic or as human as they assume she is. 

Eunha runs the water again and drinks from the palms of her hands, letting the cold water soothe her sore throat. She uses the time to quiet her mind. She knows she’ll only get one shot at this and she needs to make it count.

She slips to the side of the sinks just next to the door, flattening herself against the wall, letting the wall take her weight temporarily. Clearing her throat once, she lets a low hum start in her chest. Then she waits.

“What the hell is taking so long?” the henchman grumbles as he slams open the bathroom door, letting it bounce loudly against the tiled wall. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t have a chance to look bewildered when Eunha hums a quick tune and summons a simple symbol for light, then directs it into the henchman’s eyes. She’s a little dismayed at how loudly he screams. While he’s distracted, Eunha grabs his head as he kneels forward. She lets gravity help her and she throws her weight into slamming his forehead into the ground. Thankfully, it only takes one hit for him to slip unconscious, blood quickly pooling on the tiles under his head.

Knowing with his shouting her time is limited, she runs out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Only when she reaches the bottom of the stairs does she realize she should have taken the man’s knife. Kicking herself mentally, Eunha carefully makes her way up the stairs. She ignores her muscles and joints calling out to her in agony, letting the adrenaline keep her going.

As she reaches the top of the stairs, the deep pounding bass gets louder and she realizes she’s hearing club music—feeling club music vibrate through the floor and the handle of the door. This explains all the bodies she had sensed earlier.

Eunha hesitates with her hand on the door. She wishes she can feel how many souls are on the other side of the wood paneling now, but the light spell sapped her of her remaining energy. She needs whatever reserves she might have to get out of the building in one piece.

With a deep breath, she pulls down the handle of the door and it swings inward onto the small landing at the top of the stairs. The music gets exponentially louder with the door open. Strobing colors of light bounce off the walls and ceiling before her eyes.

It’s a club. And from what she can tell, a fairly hopping club.

There are no discernible guards or henchmen. The club is just full of writhing, dancing bodies and music so loud Eunha wonders if her ears will bleed. The light is so dim, Eunha realizes she might actually be able to slip out through the throng of people without anyone noticing her bloodied and bruised state.

She does the best she can to weave through the crowd. No one pays her much attention. She tries to bounce and sway along with everyone else, not hard with other bodies jostling her and her joints still stiff from confinement, and holds her arms tight at her chest, fists hovering at her throat protectively. The lights make it hard to see details in the room, people more like blurry purple and pink silhouettes against a backdrop of more writhing bodies.

When she gets to the other side of the room where the neon exit sign is clearly lit, she hangs back in the crowd waiting for a chance to sneak out with a group. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment to try to block out some of the sensory overload assaulting her system after having been in relative silence in the dim basement for who knows how long.

Suddenly, there is a hand at her elbow, gripping her tightly. Eunha winces and tries to pull away unsuccessfully. The hand guides her from the crowd to the exit sign. At the realization the person is helping her leave, she gives up fighting—at least until they’re outside.

As soon as they are past the bouncer, the person guiding her leans over to speak into her ear, which is still ringing from the loud music in the club, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Eunha whips her head to look at the person who still has an iron grip on her shoulder.

“Jieun?” she gasps out. “What are you doing here?”

“I asked first, Eunha,” the fae says as she keeps them moving down the dark sidewalk away from the club.

“Where are we going?” Eunha asks, trying to get her bearings. She looks around at the dark streets. This area is fairly deserted, with most people congregating around the club entrance. Eunha squints into the darkness. Looks to be some kind of industrial area. “Where are we?”

“Who did you piss off that your face looks like that?” Jieun asks, ignoring all of Eunha’s questions. “You keep messing up your face like this and I’ll have to stop offering you a job at one of my brothels.”

“Park Donghyun? You know him?” Eunha says, ignoring Jieun’s commentary.

Jieun sucks air through her teeth. “How the fuck did you get on his radar? He owns that club we just crawled out of.”

“Oh,” is all Eunha says for a moment. They are still walking and are probably a couple blocks away from the club now. It’s decidedly empty and dark. She takes a quick glance back towards the light and sound of the club, now distant.

“His club is pretty much the only thing he’s done right in his miserable life, if you ask me,” Jieun continues. “I was there looking for new girls. Found you instead. Sign from the universe, you think?”

Eunha yanks her elbow free and says, “No, I don’t think. Thank you for helping me get away, but I think I’ll be going on my own now.”

“Pity,” Jieun says, not looking that cut up about it. Her lips twist into a smirk. “Next time maybe.”

They both stop walking when they hear the tinkling of a small bell.

“Shit, think that’s my cue to fuck off,” Jieun says.

Before Eunha can even catch her breath, Jieun steps back into the shadow of the building in front of them and disappears.

The exhaustion is starting to catch up to Eunha as she tries to locate the bells. Another moment and a small black cat steps out from a nearby alleyway. It sits and looks at her from several paces away.

“I mean no harm, I just want to travel through,” Eunha says towards the cat.

The cat tilts its head before giving a full-body shake. The tiny bells tinkle again, ringing out in the quiet street. Eunha stays still, not wanting to draw undue attention.

“And tell me, dear cousin, why I should grant you passage,” a clear voice rings out. 

Eunha waits for the person to show themselves, doing her best to hold herself upright despite her body growing heavier by the second.

“I would like to know, why I shouldn’t take you to the Seelie Court right now, dear cousin,” the voice says again. This time, it is followed by a tall individual in flowy silver grey robes. Their blue hair is swept into a classy updo laced with fine silver chains, all of which shows off their long pointed ears.

“What is a Sidhe doing,” Eunha starts and then waves around the neighborhood, “wherever we are?”

“Incheon,” the Sidhe says. “We are currently in Incheon. And I am here on business. What brings you here, cousin?”

“Nothing,” Eunha says cooley. “I was brought here against my will and I would like to go back to Seoul now. If you could grant me passage, I’ll be on my way immediately.”

“You aren’t registered, cousin,” the Sidhe says. “I should bring you before the Seelie Court.”

“I have been moved enough places without my consent today. I’ll have to decline your invitation, thank you,” Eunha says. As she finishes talking, big fat raindrops start to fall from the sky. Slowly, but with promises of becoming heavier soon.

The Sidhe clicks their tongue disapprovingly. Both individuals stand facing off on the dark sidewalk as it grows damp. Eunha’s body shakes slightly in her effort to remain upright.

After a long moment, the Sidhe sighs and says, “Very well. I’ll call you a cab.”

“Thank you,” Eunha says, as the rain picks up more, and wills herself to stay conscious just a while longer.

~

The sunlight filters through the screen of the window onto the floor of the attic. A kitten jumps around chasing the motes of dust floating lazily through the air. It’s the kind of sunlight one can smell, warm, like heated wood and cozy comforters.

“Eunha, do you think he likes you, though, and that’s why he’s been picking on you?” the young man laying on a patchwork quilt spread over the floor like a picnic blanket asks. They’ve been lying there for at least an hour now, whiling away a lazy Saturday afternoon.

“Daniel! What are we, in middle school? We’re seniors in high school, for fuck’s sake. You know, basically adults and all of that,” Eunha, laying next to the man, shoves him hard in the shoulder. “I don’t even know his name, that’s how much I do not care. And anyone who picks on me because they like me can go fuck themselves.”

“Wow, harsh,” Daniel says, rubbing his shoulder. “You know, it wouldn’t be crazy if someone did like you. Although, I agree, if they pick on you, I’ll have to do something about it.”

“Shut up,” Eunha says as she rolls over to watch the kitten, still chasing dust in the sunlight. She wrinkles her nose a bit at the thought of trying to date anyone right now—or ever. “I don’t have time for boys.”

“But you have time for me,” the young man replies. He rolls over onto his stomach and lays an arm across Eunha’s waist.

“You don’t count,” Eunha murmurs. “You know my secrets. And you’re still here.”

“Damn straight, I’m still here,” he says with a huff. “I’m never gonna leave you.”

“I know.” Eunha squeezes her eyes shut as she feels the buzz of Daniel’s soul where his arm is holding her comfortingly. His soul has a warm buzzing to it, but not overwhelming, like the sun Eunha watches catches and refracts against the dust. 

She turns around suddenly, coming face to face with him. “You’re my best friend.”

“As long as you know,” Daniel says with a lazy smile. He closes his eyes, soaking in the sun that moves across their quilt.

She studies the freckles that adorn his tanned skin. She holds up one of her pale hands to compare. Eunha found some irony in the fact that Daniel’s ancestors had hailed from somewhere in Europe and still his skin was remarkably tanner than hers. Of course, she was doomed from the first time she stepped into the cold river of death to never have a healthy human glow.

Eunha hadn’t had much solace in friendships since her parents had brought her to America when she was four. They had bought a dilapidated farm in a more rural part of Oregon, a good few hours drive to Portland, which means a good few hours from tolerable society. The children in the local school did not take kindly to an outsider—one who didn’t speak much English at that, one who didn’t look like them. Daniel, though, had been nice from the day they met in middle school. He himself had grown up in Portland and despite being another white boy in a sea of white faces in Eunha’s middle school, he had been nice to her. He hadn’t seen her as other. 

Eunha uses her finger to tuck one of Daniel’s long strands of brown hair away from his face. Not even sure if he’s still awake, she murmurs, “My mom sent my applications in for colleges.”

Daniel quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t open his eyes. He huffs into the arm he’s resting his cheek on. “Can she even do that? Is that legal?”

“It is if your mom is Korean,” Eunha laughs quietly.

“What are you going to do?”

“Disappoint her, probably,” Eunha replies. She’s still speaking in a hush, as if her mother might accidentally overhear, even though there’s a whole floor of the house between them.

“You’re not a disappointment, Eunha,” Daniel says.

Eunha hums. “Maybe. But I still plan on going to Seoul. I need to get away from here.”

“I’ll go with you,” Daniel says. He opens his eyes and squints at Eunha’s face. “I’ve been saving up. I’ll go teach English or something. That’ll get us by while you take the music industry by storm.”

Eunha laughs out loud this time. “Aish. What would I do without you?”

“Admit it. You can’t live without me and you know it,” Daniel says. His grin is wide before he pokes a finger into Eunha’s waist. She immediately squeals and thrashes to get away from his tickling.

“S-stop! I already admitted it! I can’t live without you!” Eunha screams through her laughter.

Daniel raises his hands in victory and says, “Good, as long as you know.”

~

As Mina awakens, she can immediately sense that Uncle Yoongi is no longer in the room with her. She stretches out, enjoying the cozy warmth of the comforter on top of her. This bed is nice. Nicer than anywhere she’s ever slept, she thinks. Maybe her bed when she was a baby in America was nice, but she doesn’t remember America. She only knows what Eomma told her about it.

Thoughts of her eomma make her scrunch her face up. She’s worried, of course. She can’t remember the last time they have been separated for this long. She can’t remember a time she didn’t have her eomma sleeping with her. But, Mina reasons, Eomma is strong and really good with magic, so she’ll be back soon. Thankfully, Uncle Yoongi is here and he’s the nicest person Mina has ever met other than her eomma.

Mina gets out of bed and gets dressed in her lavender dress that is the perfect softness against her skin. She picks up the book from the nightstand and thumbs along the edges of the pages. This story is good. There are dragons and thrilling adventures. And love. Mina loves reading love stories. She imagines what it would be like for her eomma to fall in love. When characters are sad, they fall in love, and then they live happily. Mina wants that so badly for her eomma. She deserves it. This story is also set by the sea. Mina wants to go to the sea. She imagines all sorts of nice things might happen at the sea. She knows it has to be better than the scary grey water.

Mina tiptoes over to the door and listens with her ear pressed against the wood. She hears laughter and the gentle clink of dishes. Uncle Yoongi must be feeding his friends from BTS breakfast. His friends are very loud, but Mina still likes them. She likes them because they are Uncle Yoongi’s friends. She even let Uncle Jimin, Uncle Taehyung, and Uncle Hoseok choose the move last night. Watching with them was fun, but Uncle Yoongi is better at watching movies quietly.

She silently shuffles back to the bed and gets back under the comforter. One more chapter of her book and then she’ll go out for breakfast. She’ll let Uncle Yoongi spend some time with his friends. And maybe Eomma will be home by then.

When she finishes her chapter, Mina quietly slips out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The laughter has died down and now it sounds like a more serious tone has settled on the dining room. She can hear Uncle Yoongi talking, so she slows down, stopping before she rounds the corner.

“So, the vampire was going to kill us, so Eunha used her magic to-,” Yoongi pauses. Mina peeks around the corner to see everyone is sitting around the dining table watching Uncle Yoongi. They look very tense, no smiling faces. He’s talking about vampires, so he must be talking about when they had to get away from their apartment, when he and Eomma saved them.

“Take your time, Yoongi,” Jin murmurs.

“It was self defense,” Yoongi says, more confident this time. “Then they couldn’t stay in that neighborhood, not with vampires after them. So I brought them here. And now I’m scared they found her. The man who called, he was threatening her. He works for someone else, I don’t know. I’m just worried they will have figured out what she did to the vampire. And that now they’ve found her.”

“Who?” Namjoon asks.

“The vampires. I’m scared the vampires have found Eunha,” Yoongi says quietly. “She was so worried they would come after her. They don’t like her kind of magic. But then, when she was on the phone-“

Mina feels a shiver of fear run down her back. Her eomma is out fighting vampires. Uncle Yoongi is worried. She believes in her eomma. She knows she’s strong. She can fight them. How does she tell Uncle Yoongi it’s going to be okay?

She runs out of her hiding place and heads straight to Yoongi. He looks up, surprise written in his features.

“Mina-yah, you’re awake,” he says.

Mina immediately crawls in his lap. She reaches her small arms around his torso and buries her face into his chest. She can feel his arms immediately wrap around her protectively.

“It’s okay, Mina-yah,” he says under his breath.

“I know that,” she fiercely thinks at him. “But do you know that, Uncle Yoongi?”

Yoongi, of course, cannot read minds. Mina thinks that might be his one flaw.

Jin is up and getting a plate of food for Mina. The others look at the girl wrapped in Yoongi’s arms with a mixture of endeared and awed. 

Yoongi helps Mina turn around so she can eat the food Jin has put in front of her. She diligently works on eating all the food on her plate while the room is quiet. She glances up and everyone is looking at her. She stops chewing to stare back. Almost as if breaking a spell, everyone realizes at the same time how awkward they are being and they move. Someone coughs, as if clearing their throat. Jin stands again to clear dishes from the table.

“So, what’s happening now?” Jimin asks.

“Minkyu-ssi is gathering information right now. He’s alerted his contacts in the police and the local hospitals are looking out for people matching Eunha’s description,” Yoongi says. Mina can feel the slight tremor in his arm as it reaches around her for his glass of water on the table.

“Okay, well, I moved all your meetings today, so you can stay home,” Namjoon says. “Jimin and I can stay here with you for the day. Okay?”

Yoongi says, “Thank you, Joon-ah.”

“Mina, do you need anything?” Jimin asks, looking at her.

Mina squirms a little as she feels everyone’s attention on her again. This is starting to be too much. She likes it better when it’s just Eomma and Uncle Yoongi, she decides. She quickly glances at everyone, watching her, and then she wriggles a bit, looking back down at her food.

“You’ll tell us if you need anything, right, Mina-yah?” Yoongi murmurs.

Mina gives one quick nod of her head before she goes back to finishing off her food.

Yoongi’s phone buzzes and he grabs it immediately. His brow pulls tightly as he looks at the incoming number. Before anyone can ask who it is, he’s hitting the accept call button. “Hello?”

Mina watches as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, his free hand that’s resting on the table slowly curling into a fist, knuckles going white.

“I’ll be right there,” he says before he ends the call.

“Who was that, hyung?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi is already standing and pocketing his phone. He’s patting his pockets as if checking for their contents. “That Minkyu. Someone matching Eunha’s description is checked into a hospital in Incheon. I need to go. I have to go.”

“Is she okay?” this time it’s Hoseok asking.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi mumbles. He raises his eyes, meeting Mina’s. Mina thinks there’s only ever been one other person she knows that could hold so much sadness in their eyes. And that other person is who Yoongi is scrambling to search out in Incheon. 

CHAPTER FIVE.

Yoongi taps a long index finger on the black screen of his phone as it sits on the dining table impatiently. The backlighting illuminates revealing no new messages or calls. The screen dims again as he stares blankly. Eunha said she would be back for lunch, knowing that Yoongi has a meeting with some other PDs at HYBE at 2pm. He had volunteered to stay home in the morning, working in his studio, to keep Mina company.

He glances down at his phone as the screen lights up when he taps it again. 1:03pm. He decides it’s late enough now that a text or call won’t seem too anxious. He tries texting first, just a quick, “hey, you running late?”

Then he waits. He’d given Mina lunch at noon, not wanting her to go hungry if her mother was a little late. Now she’s curled up on the couch reading that massive tome of hers. He’s avoiding looking or sounding too worried in front of her. No need to upset her unnecessarily. He knows how these things go in the studio. Sometimes inspiration strikes or other people demand their time.

He taps his phone again. 1:05pm. No new messages. He unlocks the device and pulls up Eunha’s contact and calls.

Straight to voicemail.

Yoongi feels a little prickle of fear run across his skin. In his head, he lists the reasons her phone is powered off: forgot to charge it, in a good work flow and has headphones on with the phone off, in an unexpected meeting where no phones are allowed, in trouble with the vampire coven of Seoul for murdering one of their own. He closes his eyes and counts down from ten. When he opens them again, they land on Mina who is looking back at him with a curious gaze.

Okay, one foot in front of the other. First thing first, Eunha would want him to make sure Mina is taken care of and he was left in charge of that responsibility. So, that’s what he’ll do. 

He thinks for another minute and knows there will be hell to pay for missing this meeting. There were too many moving parts, too many things contingent on the outcome of today’s work.

“Hey, Mina-yah,” Yoongi says after a deep breath. “I have to go into work to meet with other producers.”

He watches from across the room as he sees a little flicker of fear cross Mina’s face.

“Oh, Mina-yah, it’s okay,” Yoongi scrambles. “I mean, I- would you like to go with me? To my work?”

Mina’s face lights up. Soon she’s up from the couch and running towards her room, presumably to get ready to go. Yoongi chuckles at her enthusiasm.

“Make sure you have a jacket, Mina! I’m worried about a storm later!” Yoongi shouts after her.

Yoongi decides to take the SUV to the office instead of taking the subway like he normally would. He doesn’t usually have trouble getting around if he’s wearing low key clothes and a face mask, but he’s not about to risk Mina getting exposed through him.

When they get to the parking garage, Yoongi curses as he opens the back door. He’d forgotten about the child seat. 

“Shit,” he breathes out. He looks down at Mina’s expectant face, which is turned up towards him. “One second.”

He pulls out his phone and calls Namjoon before he can think too hard about what to do next.

“Hyung, everything okay?” Namjoon answers, sounding out of breath.

Yoongi winces. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Namjoon says. “I’m just at the gym. Was about to shower before the meeting anyway.”

“About that,” Yoongi winces again.

“What?” Namjoon sounds a little put out, as Yoongi would expect.

“I might be a little late,” Yoongi says. “I’m bringing Mina and I forgot to order a seat for the car.”

“Oh,” Namjoon says. “Where is Eunha-ssi?”

Yoongi fights back the wave of panic that grips his chest. “I don’t know. At work. I hope.”

“Oh,” Namjoon says with confusion leaking into his tone. Then he coughs, clearing his throat. “So, you need a car seat?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yoongi says. “I meant to get one this weekend, but it slipped my mind.”

“I think Jin-hyung has one for his car for his nephew.”

Yoongi blinks. “Oh, that’s right. Thanks, Joon-ah.”

“I’ll try to stall the other PDs until you can get here,” Namjoon says before he hangs up.

Yoongi is dialing Jin before he’s even taken a breath. Soon, Jin is on his way to pick up both stranded people.

Rather than move the car seat over, Jin is doing something with the seat in the back to make it the right size for Mina.

“She just needs the booster, I think,” Jin says with a huff. Yoongi watches as he detaches some piece off the back of the seat. “This will do for today, but you should definitely get something the right size soon.”

Yoongi just nods as Jin secures the superfluous car seat parts in the trunk.

“Here, Mina,” Jin says, holding a hand out to the small girl, who has just been standing watching this whole car seat drama unfold.

Instead of moving, Mina looks at Yoongi.

“Oh,” Yoongi says, snapping out of his stupor. “Let me help you, Mina-yah.”

Mina and Yoongi are both too busy getting Mina secured in the seat to see Jin’s knowing smirk as he makes his way back to the driver’s seat.

The drive is not that far to the HYBE building. Still, Yoongi uses that time to make two more calls to Eunha’s phone that go straight to voice-mail.

“Everything alright, Yoongichi?” Jin asks as he takes a quick glance at the man in his passenger seat.

Yoongi hums noncommittally. 

“You like reading, Mina?” Jin tries changing tactics. Mina ignores him. So Jin mutters with a huff, “No wonder you two get along so well.”

From the moment they reach the HYBE building parking garage and Yoongi helps her out of the car seat, Mina reaches for and hangs onto Yoongi’s hand and refuses to let go. They take a couple minutes at reception to make sure Mina is registered in the system as Yoongi’s permanent guest in order for certain wards to not affect her later as they come and go in the future.

Yoongi glances down at the pale-faced girl who still has a white-knuckled death grip on his hand and decides quickly he won’t be able to leave her in the childcare room. Instead, he takes his little limpet straight to the conference room where the other PDs are no doubt already congregating with only a few minutes until meeting start time.

It’s only a little awkward for Yoongi to explain the presence of the small girl to the other PDs—the daughter of a close family friend that needed some help is an excuse that’s accepted fairly easily, much to Yoongi’s relief. The only one giving him a raised eyebrow is Namjoon and Yoongi silently promises with a shake of his head a full explanation later.

Yoongi helps Mina settle into a conference room chair pushed into the corner of the room away from the table. He asks if she needs anything and one of the other PDs suggests some drawing paper, but Mina seems content to read as long as Yoongi is within eyesight.

Despite Mina being the most well-behaved child Yoongi thinks he’s ever met, his mind is only half paying attention to the meeting. He knows the other PDs can tell. He knows that Namjoon is giving him meaningful glances every now and then. He knows he needs to get his head in the game. But he finds himself looking over at Mina every few minutes as if to make sure she’s still there. When he’s not checking in on the girl silently reading in the corner, he’s tapping the screen on his phone, hoping that some text message might have come through.

He almost groaned out loud when he saw a new text message, only to scramble to open it, anxiety sending goosebumps across his skin, to see some ridiculous meme Jungkook had shared in the Bangtan group chat. The other PDs kindly don’t mention any of Yoongi’s strange behavior.

The meeting wraps up at 4pm and everyone congratulates Mina on sitting still for so long.

“You must love your studies, to be reading for so long,” one of them says.

Another says, “Your parents must be very proud of you. You should remember to thank them for raising you so well.”

Yoongi is only half-paying attention. He’s hitting ‘call’ on Eunha’s contact while he packs up his notes from the meeting one-handed.

“We regret to inform you, service at this number is not currently available. If you would like to leave a message, please press pound.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters under his breath.

He turns to see Mina watching him. “Sorry, Mina-yah.”

“Did you try calling her office?” Namjoon says. Yoongi jumps at his voice, not realizing Namjoon was even still in the room.

“Ah, no, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Joon-ah,” Yoongi mumbles, already pulling up Naver to find the contact number for Rancid House.

While Yoongi is searching for the phone number, Namjoon walks over to Mina’s chair and kneels in front of her.

“How are you doing, Mina-yah? Are you hungry?” Namjoon asks her in a soft voice, smiling to show off his dimples.

Mina glances at Yoongi before she studies Namjoon’s face for a moment before giving him a small shake of her head.

“Thirsty?” he tries.

He watches the hesitation flit over her face before she nods once.

“You want to come to the vending machine with me just down the hall? Pick out something to drink? We can get something for Yoongi-ssi as well.”

Mina pauses a moment more, her gaze flitting to the preoccupied Yoongi, before sliding out of her chair and waiting for Namjoon to lead her out of the room.

Yoongi looks up with a startled glance just before the two leave the room. “Where are you going?”

“Just getting drinks, hyung,” Namjoon says with a smile. “We’ll get you a cold decaf coffee.”

Yoongi looks at Mina for any signs of discomfort and then nods when he’s satisfied that she seems okay.

He sighs when he finally finds Rancid House’s contact information. He had to go to HYBE’s internal reference page after having no luck with the company’s shitty website. He thinks it’s a miracle Rancid gets any business at all.

He jumps and almost drops the phone when it starts vibrating in his hand. An incoming call from Eunha. He fumbles with the phone as he accepts the call.

“Eunha, are you okay?” he says briskly.

“Ah, this must be MYG,” a rough man’s voice says from the other end of the call.

Yoongi feels his blood run cold. “Who is this?”

“Who I am is not important right now. Who might you be? I was scrolling through Eunha-ssi’s contacts and she doesn’t really seem to have many. The other two lines I tried are no longer in service. But this, MYG, I am glad has finally connected to someone,” the voice continues. Yoongi feels knots of fear seize his stomach as the man prattles on.

“Where is Eunha? Is she okay?” Yoongi does his best to keep the dread out of his voice.

“She is okay,” the man starts and then pauses before saying, “for now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, MYG, Eunha is in a bit of trouble and I’m trying to help her out,” the man says. Yoongi thinks he’s going for a caring tone in his voice, but all it’s doing is making all of Yoongi’s bullshit alarms go off.

“Where is she? Let me talk to her,” Yoongi says.

The man laughs and then tries to disguise it as a cough. “Ah, that will be difficult, I’m afraid. She’s… indisposed right now.”

Yoongi is up and walking out of the conference room at this point, heading down the hallway to catch up with Namjoon.

“Why have you called me then?” Yoongi says as he reaches the vending machine where Namjoon is apparently shaking it, trying to get one of the cans unstuck from the shoot.

Yoongi taps his shoulder and mouths “security” to Namjoon while the man on the phone says, “I was hoping you could help me, MYG. You see, Eunha has something my boss needs. I want to know what that is.”

Yoongi watches Namjoon get his own phone out and call the head of HYBE security, before the three of them head toward Yoongi’s Genius Lab. Mina’s hand finds Yoongi’s free one and grips it tightly.

“I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know what Eunha could possibly have that your boss wants, whoever your boss might be. She’s just a music producer,” Yoongi tries. He listens hopefully for any sounds on the other end of the line that might give away the caller’s location. “Why don’t you let me talk to her and see if I can convince her to tell you?”

“Nice try, MYG,” the man laughs derisively, not trying to hide it now. 

How long had they been on the phone already? Yoongi feels sweat trickle down his spine. He doesn’t know how to buy more time or get more information about where Eunha is or what condition she’s in.

“Since she’s not speaking, maybe hearing your voice will do some good,” the man muses.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he hears some movement on the other end of the line.

Suddenly, he hears a loud, “Fuck you!” that he’s positive is Eunha. She sounds wrecked, which has Yoongi’s gut twisting painfully.

“Eunha-ssi,” the man says, sounding almost sweet. “I have MYG on the phone. Don’t you want to talk to him? If you tell him what I want to know, I’ll even be kind enough to let him know where your body is so he can give you a proper burial.”

Yoongi stops breathing. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, as Namjoon lets Mina into the studio.

“Hyung?” Namjoon says. But to Yoongi he sounds very far away. All he can hear is a sharp slapping sound over the phone.

“Eunha?” Yoongi breathes out. He can barely hear his own voice.

“P-PD-nim,” Eunha’s voice is suddenly loud in his ear. Her breathing is harsh, but her tone is clear. “PD-nim, I’m sorry you got this phone call. I told him I only have work contacts on my phone. That you don’t know anything.”

“Eunha,” Yoongi tries again, a little louder this time. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“PD-nim,” Eunha says with a little more strength. “Listen to me. It’s important.”

In the background, Yoongi can hear the other man saying, “No funny business now or I’ll be sending you back to your MYG in pieces.”

Eunha’s breath falters for a moment.

“Eunha? What’s happening?”

“PD-nim, this is important,” Eunha tries again, breathing more labored. “Make sure you keep your movie buddy safe. Please.”

There’s another loud smacking sound. 

“Eunha? Choi Eunha?” Yoongi shouts into the phone.

Yoongi can hear a “What the fuck is movie buddy?! I told you no funny business” before the line goes dead.

“Hyung, what’s happening? Is Eunha-ssi okay?” Namjoon asks. He’s crouching in front of Yoongi. When did Yoongi end up kneeling on the floor? Namjoon wipes tears off of Yoongi’s cheeks. When did Yoongi start crying?

“Let’s get you inside and wait for security. They can help us figure out what to do next, who to call,” Namjoon says, grabbing Yoongi under one armpit to hoist him to his feet. “Do- do you want to pull yourself together before Mina sees you?”

Yoongi’s breath catches again and his eyes flick to the closed studio door. He nods and takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it out again slowly. Namjoon hands him a handkerchief, which Yoongi uses to mop up his face. He gives Namjoon a grateful smile. Namjoon doesn’t even know what is happening and he’s still here, helping. Yoongi takes another stuttering deep breath.