Chapter Text
III
“To learn is a challenge.”
The trip to the Headmaster was tedious, to say in the least. It was the same old thing; a little unnecessary reprimanding from the Headmaster here and there, a little rebellious rolling of the eyes, and the same old empty promise of saying he would stop “immoral acts of indecency inside the campus walls”.
Technically, Jeongguk had acted indecently outside of the campus walls (more like, on it), but that old hag could believe whatever he wanted.
It doesn’t matter much to Jeongguk, not much really did anyways, aside from Seokjin and getting a sweet Chevy.
But that was his 6th trip to the Headmaster in his first year alone, and he couldn’t help but imagine the sour look on his mother’s face at the arrival of the sixth letter from his university.
I already missed my first class; missing the second one wouldn’t hurt, Jeongguk thinks mischievously as he remembers the campus courtyard being open for all hours of the day.
The courtyard was a large space, full of budding plants and flowers, as well as people. The daily lives of university students has just started for the day so Jeongguk was infinitely grateful for the lack of bodies in the sun-filled port.
The metal of the rusty chairs were cold to his touch as he pulled one from the matching table. It let out an eerie cranking sound, the cracked feet dragging across the cobblestone. The silence was almost like an afterthought, as if the chair ought to behave after a foolish show of sound in an otherwise desolate place.
Jeongguk sighed.
Slipped an earbud in his right ear.
His fingers itched to do something , maybe press down onto a nozzle of a spraycan or hold a dusty piece of charcoal.
“I haven’t seen you around here,” Jeongguk hears behind him. He whips his head around and sees a brightly orange-haired man smiling back at him. His mind barely registers the earbud falling out.
“I could say the same thing,” Jeongguk retorts, flashing his bunny teeth in an upturned smirk. A pretty flush rises to the boy’s ears and Jeongguk’s heart does a weird flip thing.
“I was assigned to do the gardening,” orange-haired boy says albeit a little defensively and he shuffles over to one of the cherry blossom trees in the courtyard. Jeongguk shrugs inwardly and the music in his phone starts over again.
He was well into humming along when he saw the boy walk warily to him, fingers tentatively brushing against the silver, spidery lines along his right arm.
“You’re Jeon Jeongguk...right?”
Jeongguk smiles a little, though mostly out of amusement and mirth, not making eye contact with the other.
“What would you do if I was?”
The flush is there again, prettily coating the boy’s even prettier tanned skin.
The orange-haired boy huffs indignantly and crosses his arms, flashing strong biceps that Jeongguk can’t help but linger on for a couple of moments.
“You know,” the boy states, “You are pretty bold for someone who’s younger than me.”
Jeongguk only snorts in return, finally sliding his gaze over to the other boy. Only then does he notice the array of piercings saddling the other’s boy ears, similar to his own entourage.
Interesting.
“And why exactly would I address a person whom I’ve never met before, hyung? ” Jeongguk inquires, foolish arrogance and all. But the other boy doesn’t seem fazed, not at all, a wistful smile even makes its way onto his lips ( what wonderful lips they are , Jeongguk thinks inappropriately) as he tosses out a, “Jimin. Park Jimin. Hyung to you, Jeon,” before turning back around to the gently swaying cherry blossoms.
Jeongguk cannot help but think that this Park Jimin is extremely infuriating, and extremely attractive.
The thin, translucent spirals on Jimin’s skin glow blindingly under the summer sun as he runs soft hands over the unyielding bark of the tree. The tree seems to move then, Jeongguk observes with amazement, its branches stretching towards the sky. Jimin’s soft laughter impedes the younger boy’s ears and causes a strange aching in his chest.
Such joy should not be thrown around carelessly , he thinks to himself, almost brashly. The tree continues twisting, as if dancing for its caretaker, much to Jimin’s delight, if the loving smile on his face was anything to go by. He then circles the powerful structure, a crease in his eyebrows forming as he observes the recent scars made on the skin.
“This tree is one of the oldest in this yard,” he murmurs, so softly Jeongguk thinks it was not meant for anyone else to hear. “It pains me so, that others cannot be kind to him,” says Jimin, as the tree gently dips a branch down, one with a particularly ugly bruise. The gardener softly caresses the he branch, whispers of you’re okay, everything’s going to be just fine reaching Jeongguk’s ears, in between incantations of spells.
The younger witch watches as the bruise begins to lighten in color, before melding with the cafe-colored bark. There were no visible traces of pain on the tree, as if it was never bruised in the first place.
Jeongguk blurts out, “Can I ask you something?” His unassuming question sounds like thunder struck the ground in the otherwise silent courtyard, but Park Jimin hums noncommittally to his question so he proceeds.
“Why’d you decide to be a gardener?” Jeongguk asks. It’s an oddly intimate question to ask someone he had just met; the equivalent of why did you choose to live like this? And he feels a cold feeling wash over him. The silence stretches and Park Jimin stands still, bright orange hair untouched by the breeze, small hand placed on the tree’s body, eyes unblinking.
Finally, he sighs and turns around.
“Because if I can’t heal myself and others, I can at least try to heal nature.”
Jeongguk had never seen sadder eyes in his life.
“Well. I’m an asshole,” Jeongguk deadpans. Park Jimin laughs, a twinkling sound, and the soft smile is back again. Jeongguk thinks it looks genuine enough.
“Not at all,” Park Jimin says gently, “You’re just curious. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He steps away from the tree and towards the other boy. Up close, Jeongguk can see the youthful glow in his eyes, framed by sunny orange strands, and thinks that he could get lost in them. In this Park Jimin, with a lilting demeanor and a gift in his fingers.
“Anyone ever tell you your eyes are beautiful?” Jeongguk asks, tongue peeking out to lick at his teeth, a cheeky grin on his face. Ok, they were flirting now, that’s cool, Jeon Jeongguk can totally do this and not make an absolute fool of himself.
Park Jimin absolutely beams, scoffing softly but a pretty pink color is high on his cheeks and his fingers are fiddling with the hem of the sweater tied loosely around his waist.
“No,” he says slowly, “but I’d like to hear more.”
There’s a certain allure to the art of, dare Jeongguk say it, seduction and as he acquired more and more of his piercings, he had become pretty darn good at it. He only smiles coyly and says, “Give me your palm.”
Jimin confused at first hesitates, but presents it in front of Jeongguk. Snatching one of his self-made markers from his duffel bag, he cradles Park Jimin’s small hand in his and lightly draws on the skin. It’s a faint outline of a tulip, iridescent silver in color and glowing from the magick, all wispy, thin lines. It also happens to be the insignia of Jeongguk’s dorm room (although he made it look cooler).
He caps the marker, and puts it back in his bag. Park Jimin is staring at the mark curiously, and Jeongguk takes his chance. He walks away, the air of smugness around him stifling. He raises a hand in farewell and merely says, “I’ll see you around, Jimin.”
He hears Jimin sputter in indignance and yell, “That...That’s Jimin-hyung to you, punk!”
Jeongguk chuckles under his breath.
Jimin-hyung, indeed.