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Heavy enough to press at your nose and make each breath feel thick, the loamy scent of wet earth accompanies you as you make your careful way through the trees. Occasionally a droplet from the canopy of leaves above you falls, dropping about or onto your uncovered head, but it stopped raining about ten minutes ago, and you’re no longer being soaked to the bone. Which, given that you’re already wet enough to be called a liquid, is not as pleasing as it might have been. Irritably yanking at the shawl around your shoulders that does a grand total of nothing to warm the icy depths of your soul – or even your skin – you mumble curses under your breath in an almost continuous stream. The flow ebbs like the tide – when a root pulls at your flats, or a branch catches at your hair, your voice crests into an annoyed wave – and like the ocean, your swearing isn’t likely to disappear any time soon.
You’ll never trust Youngjae again. “Oh, it’s a really nice shortcut,” you parrot, getting your (former) friend’s enthusiastic tones spot on. “Just head through those woods by the school, it’s really thin there, and you’ll – fuck off,” that to a particularly insistent branch that nearly pokes your eye out, “and you’ll be right on the main road – you can take the quick bus from there! You’ll definitely. Miss. The. God. Damn. Rain.” By the end your voice sinks back to a biting snap, and as another droplet of water hits your nose, you reconsider. Forget never trusting him. You’re never speaking to him again.
You’re not normally this irritated. Actually, how angry you are now is something of a revelation for you. But today has quite possibly been the worst day you’ve ever lived, and you’d just wanted to get home quickly, in time to relax a little before work. That obviously won’t be happening now, and your earnest friend is receiving some (most) of the backlash. Some part of you - the part that remembers warmth and not being hungry and lost in the middle of a forest – feels bad about your words, but frankly no one’s going to hear them, least of all Youngjae. He had to hurry to his uncle’s house to help with some task after class, which was why, for the first time since you’d started university together, he was unable to give you a lift home. Which would have been fine, if he’d only given you the right directions.
“I should have just taken the long way,” you moan, and some of your anger is beginning to dissolve into depression and just a hint of panic. You’re not entirely sure how you’ve managed to get lost for so long – shitty directions aside - and it’s starting to make you flustered. The forest just isn’t that big, even if you’ve never really been the outdoorsy type. Once again you pull out your phone, shielding it from the ever-present surprise showers as the light wind shifts branches and makes them shake off their clinging load of rain – typically right on your head. Just as before, your display shows the dreaded “no signal,” and even worse, your power has dropped to 35% since the last time you looked. You shouldn’t have played Temple Run in the library during study break.
“Fuck.” A light exhalation this time, and as you pocket your phone in the back of your jeans you pause, staring around yourself uncertainly. You’ve literally never been in this neck of the woods before and though it’s only five, the canopy is thick enough that the light breaking through is subdued, dawdling through the trunks and moss like it’s afraid to move too far. It’s already darker than it was when you started on this particular fiasco. But honestly, you think to yourself as you strain your eyes, trying to spot a break in the trees, what else could you expect on a day when you get turned down for an internship, fail an exam and get into a screaming match with your mother over the phone? This was definitely a get lost in the woods kind of day. Now all you need to do is get fired for arriving to work late, or maybe get eaten by a bear, and it’ll be a perfect finish.
Aimlessly wandering through your bitter thoughts, at first you miss the light that shines, dim and flickering, just a little ahead of you. When your gaze passes over it again your brow furrows, confusion and something like relief crowding your face. Was that – it looked like a porch lamp or something. A porch – a house – here, in the middle of nowhere? What the f-
“Hello!”
You’d like to be able to say that you didn’t immediately shriek as a voice issued from behind you, or whip around so fast that you lost your balance and landed hard on the ground. You’d like to be able to say that, but then you’d need to think up an excuse for being sprawled out on the forest floor, palms stinging from the impact, your butt getting wetter by the second, and at the moment you’re far too dazed to make up any kind of lie. The person standing a few feet away from you, untouched by the shadows of the trees, is – is –
“Oh my God,” you breathe without thought, and he clearly hears you, a wide grin pulling at his full lips. He comes a couple steps closer, still smiling, and you can’t seem to take your eyes away.
“I don’t remember signing up to be anyone’s god recently,” he says conversationally. “Unless you’re saying you’re looking for someone to fill the position? I’m happy to be paid in praise, if you’re offering?” His head tilts in playful inquiry, and your breath… Your breath literally catches in your throat, straining painfully against the sudden blockage formed from your instant awe and desire. Somehow everything fades away – your bad mood, the panic, the knowledge that you’re lost in some godforsaken woods – and you just stare.
You’ve never seen anyone this attractive before, and that’s not some exaggeration fueled by your fatigue. His hair’s obviously been dyed, a soft, bubblegum pink streaked with blonde that you’d normally have scoffed at, but it frames the delicate, handsome lines of his face so well you find yourself making an exception. Without guilt or shame, your sight skips down, taking in the gauzy white shirt that barely covers the breadth of his chest, the tight pants that show just enough, but soon your eyes jump back up. His face is too hard to look away from. “I…” you stutter a response, barely able to force your numb mouth to form words, let alone a coherent sentence. “No, I’m not – not… ah…”
There’s nothing like nervousness coursing through your body, and though you almost never stutter, you’re not embarrassed, either. You’re just… overwhelmed. You haven’t blinked since your gaze landed on him, your eyes beginning to burn, but something stops you from closing them. An electric restlessness jitters just under your veins, sparking and almost painful, fueling a desperate urge to reach out, to touch him, to find out if his skin is as smooth and soft as it looks. The absurdity of your thoughts doesn’t touch you in the slightest – you just find yourself wanting.
His head tilts, the faintest furrow appearing across his perfect brow, and then abruptly the crease smooths away. “Oops,” he says cheerfully. “Better fix that.” It’s hard to tell if the light curl of his lips is a smile or a sneer, but either would look beautiful across his –
Across his… You blink, staring, and find he’s gotten closer, his hand extended towards you. “Sorry,” the boy with the ridiculously pink hair states apologetically. “I think I startled you a bit.”
Seriously, what the fuck. Your heart beat is tripping like it’s been smoking something, and you can’t seem to remember the last few minutes, a thin curtain draped across that corner of your mind, hazy and impossible to glimpse anything through. God damn, did this guy really scare you that badly? Well – who wouldn’t freak out when some random creeps up from behind in the middle of a forest? Realizing his hand is still extended and that your behind is still thoroughly planted on the soaking ground, you grimace and accept his help. He hauls you up so easily you almost stumble into him, shocked by the ease of the motion, and only just barely catch yourself. Jesus, did he lift weights or something? His shoulders were wide enough to put Alaska to shame, but he’d picked you up like you were a leaf.
You quickly let go of his hand, shoving your own into your pocket and feeling the comforting weight of your phone against your fingertips as your other hand brushes off the back of your pants. He’s still smiling, faintly, almost like there’s some joke you’re not picking up, and it doesn’t exactly do much for your sour mood. “Yeah, uh… thanks,” you mutter, not very graciously, and he shrugs, apparently unaffected by your tone.
“No problem. I’m Jin, by the way. Nice to meet you! I am sorry for scaring you, really.” His hand rises, affectionately patting the nearest tree, a towering giant. “I’m kinda like this guy though, so you don’t need to worry.”
You raise an eyebrow at the comparison. “What, you don’t ever move?”
“No,” the boy laughed. “I’m all bark and no bite.”
Was it entirely appropriate to be so upbeat whilst meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere? And also who the hell told that horrible of a joke – and no, you didn’t have a stupid urge to smile – to someone they’d just met? Acknowledging that your shitty mood might be making you a tiny bit biased, you nonetheless keep your distance as you give a short, half-hearted wave. “Yeah. Umm… I’m Y/N. Do you… why are you out here?” Hopefully not because he’s a psychotic murderer or something, though that’s not really the vibe you’re getting from the tall boy. No, he seems… happy. Just content or something. So, in other words, the exact opposite of you at the moment.
And he doesn’t seem to mind the question. “Oh, I’m just doing some outdoor stuff with some friends,” Jin explains. “We’re camping and building a cabin, just stuff like that.” He says it like that’s something people do every day, but he’s not exactly dressed for outdoor exploration, and you’re not even sure camping is allowed in the forest that cuts like a scythe through the town you’re living in, let alone building things. You’ve never had much interest in the swath of nature sitting on your doorstep, and ever since you’d moved here some six months ago to attend university, you haven’t had the time or energy to become interested.
On another day, you might have asked about it, but right now you’re cold, irritable, and you just want to get home. “Cool,” you say instead. “So, I guess you’re good at getting around here?” Your pride and sense of self-preservation are both reluctant to admit you have no idea where you are; that seems to be inviting mockery or an attempt at murder.
You have a feeling Jin knows exactly what your predicament is, but he neither laughs at or tries to kill you. “You could say that, yeah. I’m fairly sure I could find my way around here blindfolded.” Then he does laugh, loud and explosively, and once again you get the feeling you’re missing out on a joke. Even as his laugh fades and you frown, though, you have to admit to yourself… he has a nice laugh. Contagious, in a different circumstance. And the way his nose wrinkles is pretty cute.
But it’s not a different circumstance. “Greeeat,” you draw out instead. “Well – this isn’t even going to take a blindfold. Could you point me in the direction of Center Street? I just wanna get home as soon as possible, you know?” If you could stumble out anywhere along that road, you’d be able to catch a bus to work.
Jin’s head tilts back as he considers the canopy of dark green above you, lips pursued, and then eventually he shrugs his broad shoulders. “Sure,” he agrees easily. “I could do that. But that cabin I mentioned – it’s on the way. We could stop in.” Your head’s beginning to shake when he adds with a smile that seems too sharp for the soft contours of his face, “I’ve got some food stashed there,” and you freeze. Food. Damn. Your greatest weakness. And if it was on the way, you could scarf something down before having to work your five-hour shift, saving you from waiting on tables with a completely empty stomach. If you hadn’t woken up too late to make yourself a lunch, and thus had to forego eating all day, you would have dismissed the suggestion out of hand, but…
“That would be cool,” you find yourself saying, and hurriedly add, “Only if I’m not eating all your food or something. You’re camping, right? I don’t want to leave you with nothing.” Although it wasn’t like the grocery store wasn’t a twenty-minute walk away… Not that you’re gonna mention that to the person potentially feeding you.
Waving his hand airily, Jin dismisses the concern as he walks by you. “Nah, don’t worry. It’s… something I’ve made myself, and my friends don’t really like it much. Hopefully you do!”
That doesn’t sound promising – you’re not sure how you feel about dubiously created food that even a pack of hungry guys doesn’t want to eat, and there’s something just a little mischievous about the way he turns to beam at you – but your foot is halfway in the grave as is, and you kinda need to lie in it. Following him, you pause when you realize something; you’re heading in the direction of the light you saw earlier. The light you’d promptly forgotten about in the midst of getting jumped. That memory – or lack thereof – has an uneasy feeling squirming down your spine, but you disregard it. Hell, you’ve nothing to fear from a cabin, and it wasn’t as though you were going to be more isolated there then you are now. Minsoo would probably have called that reckless, but then again, she called a lot of the things you did reckless.
Jerking your shoulders, you start again, hurrying a little to catch up to Jin, who hadn’t slowed down. He chatters quite amiably, a rather pleasant companion if only because he barely requires a response, which is fine by you. Your wet pants make walking uncomfortable, and you’re not in the mood to talk much. The main topic is a rundown of the friends he’d mentioned before. “…and Jimin’s decided to learn to play the guitar, which is great and all, except I learned it first and I only hope he remembers who the expert is. Jungkook isn’t much better, with those drums of his. At least Suga’s been playing the piano for ages and…”
You listen with half an ear, too wary to get fully invested in the talk, and watch him closely, too. Jin doesn’t once look around, moving through the trees with a strangely fluid grace that makes keeping up with him something of a challenge. The boy talks with such an air of self-satisfaction and pride you suspect you would have disliked him if you’d just heard the words, but there’s something you notice that keeps you from that judgement. Despite constantly praising himself, similar to the jocks and ‘artist’ types you’ve become familiar with at school, he doesn’t really put his friends down. In fact, he speaks of them with so much fondness, so much pride, you can’t help but think he must be the oldest of the bunch… That, or the most responsible.
A scary possibility, this person being the most mature of a group. Oldest seems much, much more likely. But, immaturity aside, there’s something strangely calming about Jin, about the lighthearted way he chatters, and it’s really not that hard to forget the heavy pain that’s waiting for you as soon as you step out of the forest and back into the real world. In his company, you find yourself relaxing, anger and agitation slicking away like rain off of leaves. What remains is eminently more bearable.
Within a couple of minutes, the cabin comes into view, and you have to fight off the urge to pause again. It’s not exactly ominous, but there’s something distinctly bizarre about a tiny, secure and almost homely building being set in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. You’d expected – well, less. Some kind of lean-to, or a ramshackle hut that threatened to collapse if you so much as breathed too hard. This little house, with a sturdy roof, an elegant porch and a lantern hanging from the door, looked less like the thing in your imagination and more like something from a fantasy. Again, the unease cascades down your back, making you shiver, and you scoff at yourself. Did you think the Big Bad Wolf was going to leap out at you or something?
Your disquiet seems even stupider when Jin opens the door of the cabin, swinging it wide and making an extravagantly gallant gesture for you to enter. Yeah, the boy is clearly a nerd, but the main axe murderer of a cliché horror film? Probably not. Resisting the smile that’s threatening to pull at your lips at his royally serious expression, you brush by him into the wooden building, and find yourself just a little surprised at how simple it is. Which you shouldn’t have been, but the modest table set in the middle, only big enough for two people, the low cot with a sleeping bag slung over it, the clutter of drawers, it didn’t quite match the outside. Maybe they just hadn’t finished inside yet – although if you thought about it, you hadn’t seen any construction implements, no hammers or nails or… whatever. Maybe they’d put the tools away when it started to rain.
Thoughts of the rain make you glance outside a small window set into the side of the cabin, on the opposite end of the door. In the short span of time since Jin found you, the weather has cleared up really well; you’re pretty sure it’s the late-day sun that’s producing the light spilling into the clearing. That makes you pull your phone out – still no signal – and you sigh at the time. 5:30. You’re definitely going to be really late for work. Hopefully Eunhee’s the supervisor this time around; she’s way more lenient than Kelly. Either way, you need to get hurrying.
At least Jin doesn’t seem to be dawdling. He’d moved over to the drawers while you looked around, rifling through them when your eyes find him again, and you definitely don’t notice the way his thin shirt stretches across his broad shoulders as he bends over slightly. Yeah, nope, you don’t notice a thing. You don’t have time for any of that shit.
…Including his heart stopping smile, which is set in bright triumph on his face as he swivels around. “Found it!” he crows, waving something around in one hand. He bounds over to you, almost stumbling over one of the chairs in the process, but his expression is shameless as he recovers without falling flat on his face. “I made it just this morning, so it should still taste okay,”
You take it from him, letting the food sit in your hand and unable to quite hide the doubt in your expression. It… looks like a short loaf of French bread. Or something like bread, if bread were dyed a mossy green and had little flecks of brown and dark blue speckled through it. “What is it?” you can’t help but ask, vaguely hoping you don’t offend him but also certain you’re not about to put it in your mouth until you receive verification it isn’t radioactive.
“It’s like a sweetmeat. You know… a sugary bread thing?” Far from being offended, Jin looks more animated than you’ve seen before (which is saying something) and rocks back and forth on his feet with what must be impatience. Geez. He must be really eager to shell out his baking to any sucker who’ll try it. Which, today, happens to be you.
Some of your enthusiasm has dimmed, but frankly you’re so hungry right now he could have handed you a packet of salted crackers and your mouth would have flooded. Sweetmeat? You’ve heard of it but never tried or even seen it before. At least the bread – a bit bigger than your palm – will probably be enough to sate you until the end of work. It’s a little hard on the outside, but when you tear it carefully apart, aware of Jin watching with avid interest, it turns out the middle is quite soft, with a slightly lighter coloring and more of those flecks. As promised, your mouth is watering, your stomach squeezing in painful anticipation, and your hesitation falls away as you take a bite.
It occurs to you, as you chew, that there is definitely something eager in Jin’s expression, something impishly expectant, and judging by what he’d said about his friends, you make a distant assumption that he’s waiting with mischievous glee for you to be disgusted and spit it out. Well too bad for him, because as the taste of the bread saturates your tongue, a strange but pleasant mixture of tart and sweet, you let out a low hum of enjoyment, your eyes slipping closed in automatic satisfaction. God, it tasted so good, and the texture was a completely foreign composition, almost too light, like you were eating whipped cream or something.
“Wow,” you manage after swallowing (somewhat regretfully) your first bite. “Your friends are missing out!” When he doesn’t reply, your eyes open to find him staring at you, his expression twisted, frozen in a pose of such horror that you quickly look behind you, expecting to see something alarming. The cabin is just as empty as before and you frown as you turn back to him. “What?” you demand when his expression doesn’t change.
His eyes are so wide they seem to pop from his face, the black of his pupils almost completely swallowing the velvety brown of his irises. Mouth moving silently, Jin’s hand rises in a wavering line, stretched out belatedly towards you, and instinctively you clutch the food protectively closer to your chest, still entirely unsure what his problem is. Did he want you to share? Too bad, you’re the one who’s been starving and drenched for pretty much the whole day (you thought to yourself dramatically). He could just make more for himself if he wanted it. The taste of the bread still lingers in your mouth, light and almost warm, and that warmth almost feels like it’s travelling through your body, soothing aching, cold muscles and lightening the anger and depression still twisting in your gut.
Yeah. You’re really, really reluctant to share the three or four bites that remain.
Before you can say anything else, Jin’s wide eyes fly towards the entrance, face draining of what little colour is left. In a movement so swift you can’t possibly avoid it, the tall man leaps forward, snatching the food from your hands as you give an indignant cry. A second later and he’s stuffing the bread – all of it - into his mouth, cheeks bulging in a way that’s so reminiscent of a squirrel your irritation can barely make it over the crest of sudden, overwhelming hilarity. As you choke back something between a snort and a laugh, you hear a voice coming from somewhere just outside of the cabin.
“Hyung? Hyung? C’mon hyung, I know you’re in there. You must have heard Namjoon calling us.” The brusque sentence is barely finished when the door is shoved open and a short man steps inside, one hand fixing the black snapback that’s placed backwards on his head. He pauses when he sees you, brow furrowing and hand dropping, and you’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the curt sigh that slips from his lips.
“Really Jin hyung?” he asks, and his tone is offensive enough that some of your amusement with Jin flickers.
Flickers, that is, until Jin tries to say something and it turns into a spray of nonsense and crumbs, most of which hits the newcomer, getting all over his white t-shirt and ripped jeans. As the blonde man lets out a disgusted cry, leaping backwards, reminding you of a cat that’s been flicked with water, you can’t help but laugh. Instantly his gaze snaps to you, something biting and almost feral flashing in it, and a bit of discomfort makes you swallow the laughter. You’re not afraid or anything, but he looks like the type to hold a grudge or get offended, and if this is one of the friends Jin was talking about…
“Sorry,” you say, not entirely meaning it. “Jin was just giving me -”
“Mmmph!” Jin jumps forward, arms waving crazily, spraying more crumbs, and cuts you off. Now it’s both you and the new guy who’re giving him a disgusted look, and he almost chokes in his effort to swallow what’s left in his mouth. Once that’s finally managed, bits of dark green scraps littering his shirt and lips, Jin brushes absentmindedly at his collar, quite cheerfully unrepentant about becoming a food sprinkler. “I heard Joonie, Suga. I’m old, not deaf.”
“Could have fooled me. You eat like a senile person…” The newcomer – Suga? – mutters.
Jin’s face goes from pale to red so fast you actually get a little concerned. Flinging up his hands, the pink haired boy exclaims, “Is this the respect I get? This blatant disregard? This callous insolence? This insensitive impudence? After all that I’ve done? After -”
“Sorry hyung. My bad.” Suga cuts off the irate flow so efficiently it seems he’s used to it by now, and there’s a sharp amusement in his eyes that suggests he’s really only sorry he got the older boy started. Either way though, Jin calms down remarkably quickly with one last offended huff that makes your lips twitch – actually, it’s so fast you almost get the feeling that his explosive rant was just for show, or to be funny or something. There’s a little pause, an awkward (for you) stint where you wait for Jin to do some kind of introduction and Suga leans against the doorframe like he’s bored.
Eventually it becomes obvious that no introduction will be forthcoming, Jin looking oddly tense as he fiddles with the buttons on his shirt. Screw it. “I’m Y/N,” you say with a slight shrug. “Jin invited me here, and I think he mentioned you?” With something akin to mild spite – there are still crumbs on your own sweater, and you’re a little pissed he grabbed the bread from you, anyways – you blatantly ignore the way Jin is shaking his head in sudden alarm. “You play the piano, right? I played for a few years, when I was younger.” When your mom could still force you to do things you didn’t want to do.
Suga… does not look amused. His eyes flicker over you and you get the sense of being weighed – and dismissed – as he looks away. “Whatever,” he states indifferently, ignoring the way your shoulders stiffen as he turns to Jin. “Sorry hyung, but I think you’ve had enough fun with humans for one day. Namjoon-ah wants to start soon.” As you tense even further, a confused frown growing, Suga disregards the way Jin is vigorously shaking his head again and raises one hand. Without looking at you, he grates, “Get lost, Y/N. Go home.” And then he snaps his fingers.
What, are you some kind of dog? Your confusion takes a backseat to your annoyance, and you straighten, about to say something. Except then Suga glances at you, a disinterested skim – and freezes. And as his expression morphs, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so nonplussed before. Slowly he turns to face you again, his hand giving a single sharp wave as though to get your attention. “Listen, Y/N,” he says, each syllable drawled out with precise distinction. “Go home.” Again, his fingers snap, more loudly this time, and you figure you’ve had just about enough of that.
“I was trying to get home when your friend sidetracked me,” you retort hotly. “So, sorry to be annoying, but it was Jin that invited me here to-”
“Wait, don’t -”
You ride over Jin’s frantic objection. “…me here to have something to eat. If I’d known I wasn’t welcome, I wouldn’t have come.” You finish with a mulish toss of your head, coals of anger still burning on your heels and making it hard to focus on the way Suga’s mouth suddenly slackens, his tongue darting out to press against the corner of his lips. Jesus. You could have gone to the restaurant if you’d wanted to be treated this rudely, and anyways, why were the both of them suddenly acting so freaking weird?
Especially Jin. Because he’s abruptly wringing his hands, with an anxiousness that proves at least somewhat understandable when Suga whispers, voice raw with disbelief, “You gave her our food?” Jin flinches, part of his careless confidence stripped away. There’s something odd about the way Suga says “our,” like it somehow needs to be stressed, and you think maybe he’s mad that Jin gave it without asking, but –
“I thought you didn’t even like it,” you interject, frowning, vaguely surprised at how much you dislike seeing Jin deflated.
Suga snorts at you. “I don’t like it,” he replies tersely. “None of us do. It tastes like shit. But why that means he’d do something as dumb as giving it to someone like you…”
You are so done with this, and you’ve got better things to do. “I don’t know what your problem is,” you snap, “but I’m leaving. Jin, look, I really appreciate you giving me a bite of that bread,” you can’t help the slight sarcasm in your voice, “but I’m going to be late for work. Can you please just point me in the direction of Main?”
“Err…” He looks suddenly soft, vulnerable almost, his hands running aimless circles across the fabric of his pants. “That’s a really pointed request.” You snort, almost laughing, but when he hesitantly smiles, you notice that he’s blinking a lot, hard, and every other blink or so his whole face seems to twitch with – what is it? Stress? Is he really that perturbed by the argument with Suga? Or is it your own anger that has him so worried? Abruptly you feel bad, a sigh building at the back of your throat, and you’re just going to pretend that Suga doesn’t exist so that you can get out of here without feeling like Lucifer reincarnated.
“Sorry,” you say, letting your chin drop a little. “It’s kind of just been a shitty day all around. But seriously… the bread tasted really good. I would have eaten more.” You’re careful to keep the reproach playful and not stinging, but as his smile becomes just a little less tentative at the words, you realize that they aren’t… strictly true. You’re actually not all that hungry anymore, the biting pain of near-starvation completely abated.
What the hell? Biting at your lip, your hand once again finding your phone, you pull it out and wince at the time, feeling as though, abruptly and harshly, you’re being tugged from some kind of hazy dream and plunked straight back into reality. “Seriously though, I need to go.” Your urgency has an impatient exhalation coming from behind you, but Suga doesn’t exist right now, so… “It was nice meeting you, Jin.” You’re a little perturbed by the sincerity in the statement, but it’s true. You’d met him for less than an hour, but he was kind, and ridiculous, and it kinda sucked that you were going to be leaving like this.
When he makes no move, you turn to the door, brushing by Suga without looking at him, hoping that Jin’ll just get the hint and follow. But then his voice comes from behind you, high pitched and strained. “Y/N, wait.”
A surge of frustration has your shoulder jerking, but you pause, twisting to face him. He still looks nervous, and just a bit… flushed. Actually, the high colour in his cheeks brings something warm into the pit of your stomach, and the fact that you’re ruthlessly aware that it’s just your hormones talking doesn’t do anything to dispel the sensation. “What?” you ask, and you intended to bite off the question but instead it softens at the end. Damnit. Nothing you can do about hormones.
“You… can’t go.”
Eyebrows arch in incredulous disbelief, and it turns out there are a few things to do to dispel hormones. Like get really, really annoyed. “Jin,” you say, struggling for patience, “I have work. I’m going to get fired if I don’t go in.” A sudden thought occurs to you, and your eyes narrow. “Look, if you don’t know the way out of here or -”
“Of course he does.” That from Suga, and he continues unperturbed as you switch your glare to him. “We all know the way out. It’s not like it’s a big forest. I’m surprised that you couldn’t figure it out yourself, that you needed someone to hold your hand.” He pauses, eyeing you dubiously. “Actually, not that surprised.”
You flush, hot and embarrassed (because yeah, somewhere in the back of your mind you’d thought it was pretty dumb you couldn’t figure it out, given the size of the forest in this area), but you’re taken aback when Jin speaks up. “Yoongi, that’s enough.” On the heels of the quiet command Suga’s face creases, becomes more irritated, but Jin doesn’t relent. “You know I kept her wandering around, so you might as well stop being rude about it. Or maybe I’ll tell her your real name.” You have no idea how such an innocuous sentence could sound so threatening, but Suga, already pale, blanches and looks away, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a string of swears. You don’t even care. What the hell did he mean, he’d kept you wandering around?
Jin turns his attention to you, and he’s regained some of his composure, smile gone but eyes no longer blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry Y/N,” he says softly. “I didn’t think you’d actually like my baking, at least not that batch. I thought… I guess I thought you’d spit it out. I thought it’d be funny, and maybe even you would think it was funny, and be a bit happier.”
That unease, the shiver of discomfort you’d first experienced when seeing the cabin? God, was it back in full force right now. “Oookay…” Your voice dawdles out, reluctant and unwilling. “I mean… it was just a joke, and I ended up liking it anyways. You’re fine.”
He does smile at that, and there’s something sad and oddly old about it. “I’m glad to know you’d feel that way, if it was just a joke. Really. It makes me happy to know you’re that kind of person. But you don’t understand yet, and I -” Jin raises his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know how to…”
As he trails off, Suga snorts derisively. “What is this, a fucking soap opera? Look, I’m telling her what’s up, and you better not so much as breathe a letter of my name, because I’m just doing what you can’t. I’ll even be nice about it.” Your eyes are fixed on Jin’s face, confusion a churning, uncomfortable mess in your stomach, and when he slowly nods, you tear your gaze away and look uncertainly at Suga.
There’s something a bit less sharp, a little bit less caustic about his expression as he meets your eyes. “Here’s how it is,” the man begins. “You ate some of our food. Given that Fair Folk food ain’t really meant for you, it’s not really great for you mortals. Well, I mean, it’s not poison or anything. Actually, it makes it a helluva a lot harder for us to spell you. But that probably isn’t worth much, because basically, it means that you can’t leave us.” He stops, shakes his head before correcting himself. “Well, you could leave, I guess. It’s just that you’ll eventually die.” Suga says the stream of fantasy so reasonably, so matter-of-factly, like what he’s saying isn’t insane, and you guess, numbly, that you probably should have listened to Minsoo’s voice in your head and kept walking when Jin first spoke to you.
Because it only gets more and more obvious as Suga keeps talking that these guys are fucking unhinged.
“I guess Jin hyung was messing around, and he… caught you. Made it so that you couldn’t possibly get out of the forest unless he let you. Sounds like something stupid that Taehyung or Jungkook would do -” Jin makes an annoyed noise at that, and Suga continues smoothly, his tone not changing, “but who am I to judge, right? Anyways, maybe he spells you to get you to follow him,” again Jin makes a sound, this time protesting, and Suga corrects flawlessly, “or maybe hyung is good looking enough that you just followed him when he asked.” An icy prickle creeps down your back when you suddenly remember the strangely blank spot in your memory, that moment when you first saw Jin. Except – except a second later you’re brushing it away, because you’re not the crazy one here, and you don’t believe in spells or magic or the Fair Folk.
“That’s about it, I guess.” Suga shrugs. “You ate our food and when I tried to tell you to get lost, it didn’t work. Usually it does. Now you’re stuck. Sucks for you. I guess we gotta tell Namjoon about this, although what he’s going to do with you…”
“Okay.” You nod, like none of this is mental. “Yeah, sure.” Your heart is pounding like it’s training for a marathon, and slowly you back away from them both, towards the door and relative freedom. You’re not sure what’s more disturbing; the way they watch you move, utterly unconcerned, or the niggling voice in the back of your mind that’s whispering something along the lines of maybe. God damn it. You’re almost to the point of wishing a bear would just come along and eat you.
“They never believe us,” Suga complains as he steps back, next to Jin, and though Jin nods, his focus is fixed on you.
“Don’t leave.” His voice is warm and urgent and sincere, but you’re unmoved. You just need to get home – at this point work can go to hell, you’re clearly sick – and make yourself some tea, and pretend that this never happened. Obviously Jin sees some of that, because he tilts his head and changes tack. “Come back, okay? When it gets too much to bear, come back to the forest. I’ll make sure everyone watches out for you.”
You don’t reply, and when you make it outside of the cute cabin you pause for just a moment, like you’re expecting something to happen. They just keep standing there, Suga staring with an unreadable expression and Jin fidgeting, shifting like he almost wants to go after you. Just before you turn, he reaches up, puts his fingers gently to his lips – and blows you a kiss that you can almost feel chasing you as you run away.
As Suga implied, it’s incredibly easy to find your way out, and you emerge from the forest only a few minutes later, panting, your face scratched by branches that you’d whipped by, but otherwise un-murdered and unharmed. Bent over next to Main, sucking in deep breaths of clean air unpolluted by the ever-present tinge of wet trees, you try to sort through what just happened. Try to rationalize it in some way. One thing you know for certain; you’re not telling anyone – not your roommate Minsoo, not your friend Youngjae, not anyone – what happened. The last thing you need is a visit to a psychiatric ward.
You try to dispel the nagging suspicion that a psychiatric ward might be exactly what you need.
Soon enough the Everdale bus comes to the stop you’ve dragged yourself to. And when it takes you home, you stumble to your room – Minsoo is out tonight – and call work with the 12% that remains of your cell’s battery. Eunhee answers. Yes, you’re very sorry for not being there. Yes, you’re feeling horrible. Yes, you’ll sleep and get better soon. Yes, yes, thank you. After you end the call, you sprawl out on your bed, letting your phone drop next to your pillow. You barely manage to summon up the will to plug it in before pulling the covers over you, still dressed in your clothes. For some reason it feels like you’ve just taken nighttime NyQuil along with a dose of Benadryl.
You slip into sleep with a curve of bright lips on the inside of your eyelids and a ringing laugh in your ears.
You’re fine the next day. You wake up early and get Minsoo up on time by the simple expedient of sitting on her. Breakfast never happens, both of you too busy chatting. You speak to Youngjae when you get to school despite your promise to yourself, and laugh off the scratches on your face. Class flies by, and you’re able to concentrate as long as you don’t think about yesterday. You’re actually sure you do decently well on another exam despite not having had any time to study for it.
You pack a lunch but don’t eat it, and tell yourself you’ll be hungry by dinner.
—
Eight days later you find yourself standing just off of the Everdale bus stop, your hands shaking, unable to take your hazy vision from the trees that rise large and imposing in a long line before you. A car hurtles by on Main but you don’t move, even as the wind of its passing rustles your clothes. You stare, motionless, for seconds that could have slipped into minutes, before a great sigh shifts your shoulders.
“Fuck,” you mutter, a painful refrain from the last time you were here. And, taking in one more heavy breath, you step forward and let the forest swallow you.