Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

jungkook checks the address written on a tiny, pink, watermelon shaped post it note. looks up. looks back down at his post it note.

immediately, stepping aside so that he doesn’t bump into the random seoul pedestrian with his huge clunky luggage and duffel bag, jungkook pulls out his phone and presses the first number on his recent calls list.

“mom,” he hisses, “are you sure this is the right place?”

his mom doesn’t rag on him for not greeting him first, just scoffs into the other side of the receiver. from her end, loud cacophonous noises nearly split jungkook’s hearing in half. he winces and pulls away his phone to stare at his mother’s contact name (with an appropriate blue little heart) before putting it back. “...mama?”

“sorry!” his mom’s voice is louder than he expects. the next time she speaks, her voice is a bit calmer, and the noise has moved to the distant background. “okay, okay, i put up a muffling spell. your brother was trying to practice using an advanced spell and now the house is throwing a lot of stuff at him. it’s angry, i think.” another crash in the background. his mama sighs. “junghyun! go call your dad!”

“mama, are you sure this is the right address?” jungkook looks down at the piece of paper in his hand with trepidation, before staring back up at the building in front of him. it’s not a nice apartment building by any means, and certainly not what he was expecting when his mother told him that she found a place for him in seoul at a reduced rent. jungkook had expected nice, neat, white walls, glass windows, a neat exterior...not this...pile of shambles. it looks like a dilapidated, old building, crumbling with dust and red brick - do people even use red brick anymore? - and all the windows are dark. some of then have jagged edges, too. it’s an odd sight to see, especially with the pristine little candle shop situated right next door and a mart on the other side.

when jungkook had said he would have to move to seoul, his mother did everything she could to make sure that his trip there would be taken care of. because his family is paying for his college, jungkook wanted to try and dorm (he would be nearby the school, too!) but his mom told him that he would be better off living by himself without the stress of having roommates to deal with. jungkook couldn’t disagree; he isn’t the best with other people.

“of course it is!” she says cheerily, and jungkook can hear his dad’s voice yelling in the background too. probably scolding junghyun. “does it look like it’s about to fall in on itself?”

jungkook eyes a piece of broken brick on the floor. “well, yeah.”

“then that’s it! oh, don’t worry about what it looks like, baby. they put a glamour over the front to make sure no one would pay attention to it - it’s got some serious security measures. all you have to do is walk in!”

that makes more logical sense, jungkook supposes. “if i die, mom, just know that it’s your fault.”

“don’t be so dramatic.”

“i’m not being dramatic,” jungkook mumbles insistently, gathering his stuff up and walking toward the entrance. “i’m just saying - if i die, it’ll be because you led me to a faerie drug den or something. “

“then we’ll be full circle - i gave birth to you, and i’ll have taken you out of this world, too. junghyun, listen to your father and stop being a brat!” his mother swears something that jungkook pretends not to hear. “anyways, call me back when you have all your furniture settled. do you have to dime pocket? yes, of course you do, i packed it for you. send pictures when you’re done, baby! i know how much of a perfectionist you are. let’s hope to the gods you clean your room when i’m not there to do it for you.”

jungkook scowls. “bye, mom.”

walking through the gates of this apartment complex changes it completely. watching in awe, jungkook steps back a little and bumps into the iron wrought gates - wincing as he pulls away with a slight burn at the touch - it’s almost like a shimmering veil has been pulled off; the dilapidated, decrepit building falls away, leaving a wondrous building in its place. taller than it previously let on, this apartment building is absolutely alive. jungkook can find no other way to explain the thrum of magic hissing underneath his bloodstream, warming up his fingers. bright bursts of red, orange, and mellow blue swim gracefully over the exterior, a base color of glimmer grey and silver. they actually move, like watercolor, disappearing over windows and reappearing at random moments. it seems to soak up the sun, always moving where the light hits it most. at second glance, it becomes less of a shape and more of a creature; scales, a slender body, crystalline eyes.

the windows reflect back whatever light it contains, some of them in patterns and some of them dark and some of them as laughing illusions. jungkook reaches out to touch the illusion of a jumping cat, disappearing at his fingertips. some of the windows are oddly shaped - one of them is a perfect square, clear cut with a dark shadow, another is a circle with a glass band around with filled with - are those fishes? is that an aquarium? while another circular window is painted with the image of the sun. jungkook almost wants to take a picture of the entire building, but when he looks up and blinks at the height of it, it seems so, so high. there are hundreds of windows, so many floors. he can’t even move, so entranced by the sight of it.

the watercolor dragon comes down to meet him; jungkook follows the serpentine movements of its body as it moves to his level, bright multicolored eyes lidded and watching jungkook back with a similar curiosity.

hauling his bags and things, jungkook shoves his phone back in his pocket. he reaches out to brush fingers against the dragon’s snout, making sure to be gentle. “um, hello,” he whispers, feeling a little silly but mostly doing so out of respect. the dragon, wordless, closes its eyes and almost seems to push against jungkook’s hand; he doesn’t know how else to describe the feeling, which is like a slight pressure against his skin. after a moment, a door materializes - how had he not noticed that? there had been no door to get inside the building in the first place - outlining itself from the concrete. it’s a glass door, and looks like any other front door he might see on any other building.

the dragon moves away from his touch, resuming its previous journey toward the sun.

hurrying up, jungkook pushes open the door to find the lobby. it looks much more tame compared to the chaotic and magical exterior of his new home, with a tilted floor and golden gilded accents. there’s a woman sitting at a reception desk a couple of feet away, talking on the phone and spinning her finger around next to her. a pen is writing something on a notepad for her.

jungkook heads towards her resolutely. when she sees him coming, her eyes flicker away from her screen and she sets down her phone.

“hi,” she starts before jungkook can say a word, “what is your lineage?”

“um, earth,” jungkook says, already taken aback. “i’m supposed to be a new tenant here?”

“oh, yes, i know,” the woman assures him, now finally smiling. “your magical signature has already been accepted. the door to the building will only open for you; this means if that you have any guests or plan to have any guests, please let us know beforehand so that we may make proper accommodations. i will leave you with a handbook about the rules of the building, so no worries.” she types a couple things into her computer. “earth practitioner?”

“more or less,” jungkook says.

“first in the family?”

“yes,” he flushes. “my mom set this up for me, sorry, i don’t know anything.”

“no worries, this is just for demographic purposes,” she finishes clicking away on her computer. “i will need your identity card to enter name and age. thank you.” the pen and paper suddenly stop, fluttering to the side of the table. the pen clatters away on the floor. “everything checks out! here you go, jeon jungkook-ssi; your keycard to your room.” with a smile, she hands him a sleek white card with an apartment number on it. it’s enough to make jungkook feel all grown up and adult-like. “enjoy your time here. this is the rule book, please let me know if you have any questions; there will always be someone here.”

“thank you,” jungkook says, before heading to the elevators.

his apartment is on the third floor. jungkook waits for the elevator, shifting all the bags on his shoulder with a wince; there’s going to be definite bruises there later on. when it finally comes, a couple of girls get off – one with bright pink hair and smelling overwhelmingly of bubblegum, the other with dark hair and a scowl on her face. neither of them give jungkook a second glance, but he can tell that they’re both magic for sure.

he heads inside a lovely chrome and black lift, pressing on the ‘3’ button. it’s not a typical lift, thank god, going on those all the time would probably give him motion sickness. instead jungkook waits a second or two for the number to switch from ‘1’ to ‘3’. he’s just happy his mom didn’t put him on the fourth floor, either.

jungkook makes his way to apartment 3J. it’s located at the end of a hallway; the walls are painted a bright, buttercup yellow. each door has their own pattern, ranging from simple minimal ones to more complex swirls. one day even has a picture of a glass ball on it, though he’s not sure what the purpose of that is. jungkook’s neighbor, 3K, is painted a sleek, matte black. there’s one diagonal strip of silver; it looks quite sophisticated. jungkook will have to introduce himself to his neighbor sometime in the next week. his own door is strange, a bland beige, and jungkook wonders if he’ll be required to make his own place neat and pretty too. he could probably use magic, which is one of the most wonderful things about life. the ability to cut through hard work.

he takes out his keycard and stares curiously at the lock. it’s like the keypad door that a lot of normal people have, but instead of a keypad, there’s only a slim opening for someone to swipe their card through, like a credit card machine. jungkook takes out his keycard and blows on it to make sure there’s no lint from his pocket sticking onto it, swiping it through the lock. it blinks for a moment, then turns green, and –

like a ripple originating from the doorknob and the lock itself, a wave of color replaces the beige. it folds into itself, changing from the bland color to a bright, pristine white – jungkook’s favorite color – and on top of that, curling over the edge of the door and over the knob, are spiraling, five petaled yellow buttercups. he laughs, a little startled, and opens the door.

it’s a nice apartment, certainly a lot bigger than what he expects. there’s a short entrance to put shoes in, opening up to a while living room. the kitchen is an open one, with no fancy extra island (that would have been helpful) but certainly a lot of cabinets (which is, in fact, very helpful). there’s a hallway to the right that jungkook assumes leads to the single bedroom and bathroom, as well as the storage room that he read would come with the apartment. the walls are already the same shade of white as the front door, and jungkook wonders just how much magic is at play here. it seems like the whole building may be entirely created of magic.

the best part, in his opinion, is the balcony. leaving his bags at the door and rubbing his shoulder, the balcony faces the front of the building; jungkook looks down and sees the very spot where he had been standing earlier. strange, he hadn’t found any window with a balcony on it… looking around, he sees the odd window or two that he found before, like the aquarium one and the painted sun, but then there is his own, which protrudes out a good couple of meters. his own window is probably the largest, rimmed with white, perfectly tempered glass. it’s sturdy; jungkook thinks that if there are any storms, no water would flood into his place.

he closes the balcony door, stepping back into his new home. classes don’t start for at least another week, but he wanted to be able to settle in and look around his new neighborhood before worrying about school or anything else like that.

the first thing he needs to do, however, is call his mom. she picks up on the third ring, sounding much more put together this time.

“i made it to the apartment,” he starts, looking at the fresh coat of paint on the walls. “is this a magical building? tell me for sure, mom. it’s magical, isn’t it. everyone here is a practitioner?”

“at least say hi,” his mom huffs. “yes, they all are. the friend who introduced me to the place - her son lives there too. you should go say hi to him sometime! i’ll text you his room number.”

“it’s nice,” jungkook says instead, fingers brushing against the wall. “the ceiling is big enough for me to hang some plants, too.”

“i heard that it changes with your preference,” she says, pleased. “did you unpack everything yet? get something to eat or fix up your room? i wish i could be there.”

a wave of affection runs through jungkook. “no, mom, i’m looking for the dime pocket. where did i put it... i still have to unpack all of my stuff. i was thinking i’d just get all the furniture down and then see what was out in the neighborhood.”

“stay safe,” his mother’s voice is uncharacteristically calm. his entire life, jungkook has known his mother as loud and boisterous. a go-getter. now she’s subdued, and he can’t understand why. chalking it up to her missing him, never having a child out of the nest, jungkook makes sure that he sounds like he knows exactly what he’s doing when he says, “of course, mom. always.”

“i love you, baby. text me what your place looks like in the end, okay!” she hangs up after. jungkook finds the dimensional pocket at the very back of his topmost pocket, hiding behind a couple of lip balms and some of his favorite skin care products. the pocket is no bigger than the size of a coin, a dark black. jungkook presses the pad of his thumb on the middle, waiting until a tell-tale hiss sounds. slowly, the little circle grows in size until it’s large than jungkook, and he has to stare up to see where it starts. inside the dimensional pocket is a bunch of furniture he and his mother had bought specifically for his room. jungkook closes his eyes and cracks his fingers. moving all this furniture will take time, but it’ll be worth it, he tells himself.

moving large things small distances is easy. one of the first things everyone learns growing up. jungkook gets the sofa and two seater into the middle of the room just how he likes it, along with a white rimmed coffee table that rests at the middle, on top of a warm brown throw rug that adds color to the place. his mom chose most of the stuff inside the room; he had been too excited and happy to just see her excited to really say no to what she wanted to get him.

he’s brought a lot of old furniture from his room; all of it goes straight into the bedroom, which was a nice, good size. jungkook’s bed, side table, lamp and armoire all go in there in a big, messy heap. feeling the exertion now, jungkook wipes at the sweat on his brow and coaxes out all the packed boxes containing a myriad of things; his pots, games, computer, books, a bunch of jars and collections that he’s had over the years. not to mention a lot of small things that he and his mom got together before his big move, as well as some gifts from his hyung and his father.

that bit of magic tires him out immensely; although it’s something every practitioner knows, nothing will be as easily taken as the magic that one knows intrinsically. he works mostly on the living room now, opening up a couple of boxes he knows has some of his favorite bots. there’s a couple of shelves that he has yet to install and a a whole bookcase that his dad made for him, painted white with different levels, that he sets against the side of the room. there are a lot of posters and that he has yet to put on the wall, too. doing all this by himself is a lot more than he expects it to be.

the next four hours passes by like that easily, with him finishing up the living room as quick as he can; it looks acceptable by the end, all neatly arranged spaces, the shelves installed and a couple of pots on them ready for him to get back to later. he’s got the bookshelf filled and he’s also put up another regular bookshelf right next to it, a meter away to put a framed picture in the middle, filled with all the books that he’s ever had in his life. a lot of them are gifts from other family members, honestly.

jungkook’s stomach is what finally pulls him away from his settling in. it grumbles and aches insistently, wanting food and something cool to drink. still august and not yet autumn, the weather has been warm and lovely. in busan, it’s already started getting a little colder. that’s what he gets for living by the ocean, he thinks.

he grabs his wallet and his phone, snapping a picture of the whole place to text to his mom, and hooks the keycard - no bigger than his palm - onto his keychain, which he stuffs in his back pocket. a bit of fresh air will do him good.

seoul is beautiful in a different way. it’s not the rolling shores and open, free skies of busan; sometimes jungkook feels like there’s fog clogging up his throat no matter what he does when he’s in seoul - but it has a strange appeal. he knows why so many people try to go to seoul no matter what, just to find something to do with their lives. a city collecting lost people. most of the pedestrians walking by don’t seem to have any direction, twisting this way and that between the throngs of others, all of them walking, walking, walking.

looking around for a place to eat, jungkook notes the undercurrents of seoul. it’s much more muddled, a whole lot less peaceful than busan’s. there’s a vein of thick, thick hunger, like the very ground is ready to eat someone alive. bloodthirsty. jungkook shudders and rubs his arms; his specialty has nothing to do with the darker arts. that’s a bad for them, technically, but jungkook has no other way to explain it: the magics that involve death and sacrifice.

he finds a nice little bakery to stop by. maybe he can get a couple of steamed buns from here - they must have better quality than the convenience stores, as the ones in the display case look fresh and handmade - and one step into the bakery tells him that it’s an all-human place. jungkook buys himself a dozen steamed buns and heads back to his new apartment, nibbling on one all the way. he takes note of all the things he passes by - a mcdonalds, a jewelry shop, a dog cafe, a starbucks. he’s going to visit the dog cafe no matter what when he gets the chance.

the rest of his day, until night time, is fixing up the furniture in his new apartment. all of his clothes fold themselves and color coordinate in his closet, his pajamas and other home wear going into the armoire. freshly laundered bed sheets smelling of sea salt fits themselves snugly over his bed; a black duvet pulls itself on top. he has a couple of other rugs, some more paintings that he’s done himself, posters of his favorite artists, some that he got from concerts, some that he’s gotten from friends. pictures, polaroids of his family, and a substantial amount of potted plants all around the room. he’s already planned where he’s going to place his longboxes, and tomorrow he’s going to add the finer details - where to place all his glass showcase, where he’s going to put his hanging garden, where he’ll settle all of his plant food and watering cans. jungkook’s already gotten most of his stuff unpacked.

it’s around this time of night - 9pm - that someone knocks on his door. the sound is loud enough for jungkook to accidentally raise his head as he’s trying to connect his computer together, and he rubs the bump at the back of his head with a slight wince.

at the door is someone he’s never seen before, with apple cheeks and a pair of toned arms. he waves a little, holding out a basket of goodies and then a white plastic bag beside him. “hi, i’m park jimin! i’m your neighbor over there,” he hitches a thumb at the door that’s directly across from jungkook’s. “you’re jungkook, right? my mom told your mom about this place, i think. nice to meet you!”

“oh, yeah, my mom mentioned you,” jungkook smiles, now noticing the slight accent in jimin’s voice so similar to his own. “um, come in.”

“it looks like you’ve got a lot of stuff set up already,” jimin whistles appreciatively, looking at all that jungkook’s managed to accomplish in one day. “your door and window has changed, too.”

“i don’t know how though,” jungkook confesses, taking the basket from jimin thankfully. there’s a bunch of muffins inside, along with a couple of other treats. “thanks, this will keep me full for a whole week on breakfast.”

“i was going to bring good old toilet paper, but i figured that would be more helpful,” jimin jokes, setting an easy atmosphere right away. “wow, look at all these pots. like gardening?”

“well,” jungkook starts, smiling a bit shyly, before waving his hand over the potted plant jimin has in his hand; a shoot pops up from beneath the soil, green and pretty, growing further and further until it’s a small pink bloom. a couple more follow after it.

“wow,” jimin breathes, reaching forward to touch a petal. “that’s real neat. you’re a green witch?”

“that’s an improper term, you know,” jungkook raises an eyebrow. jimin follows it, and then they’re both laughing.

jungkook finds himself unpacking the dumplings and noodles jimin brought over for him, guessing correctly that he probably didn’t have dinner yet. jungkook warms them up in the microwave that came with the apartment, jimin sitting on the sofa in the living room. he hadn’t expected visitors so soon, but jungkook can’t say that he doesn’t feel a little grateful. jimin’s nature is easy going, enough for jungkook to feel comfortable around him enough to talk a bit more and not feel so shy about asking questions about everything.

“do you go to shinbi too?” he sets down one of the cartons in front of jimin, shaking his head when the other refuses. “i can’t finish this all by myself, and it’ll go bad by tomorrow anyways.”

“well,” jimin scratches the back of his head, laughing. “i ordered some for myself back in my apartment too, you know...”

“you can eat double, then?”

jimin thinks over it. “sounds like a plan.” he takes the chopsticks jungkook offers him. “i do go to shinbi! i think most of the people who live here do, actually, at least all the students - this building is only for practitioners,” he informs jungkook. “no other supernatural creature allowed. the whole building is imbued with magic, which is why only practitioners can see it. you’re also not allowed to enter the building unless your magical signature has been accepted; that’s after you pay your deposit, by the way,” he finishes, eyes twinkling a little.

“ugh,” jungkook doesn’t want to even think about the deposit. the amount of zeros still make his head spin.

jimin snorts. “yeah, same. but it’s good because the security is top notch, it’s super close to shinbi university so all the practitioners here are students - you’ll probably see them around campus! - and there’s a lounge area on the first floor, a laundry room in the basement. you don’t need to waste money on that stuff outside if you don’t need to! which is pretty awesome. me and another friend of mine who lives here - taehyung, he lives upstairs - we go down there to play pool all the time. the lounge, not the laundry room.”

“sounds nice,” jungkook says, taking a sip of his water. “so...do you know the other two neighbors here?”

“hm?” jimin brightens, looking excited to finally spill details about all the people that live on their little segment of the floor. jungkook doesn’t know whether to be grateful or a little scared. “oh, yeah! there’s two other people that live on this cubicle? area? i don’t know,” laughing, he continues, “there’s seokjin-hyung who lives in 3I, and yoongi-hyung who lives in 3K, next to you. seokjin hyung’s good with fire, and he may not seem like it, but when he explodes he explodes. yoongi hyung is kind of mysterious; he doesn’t talk to us often, but i don’t think he’s bad of a guy.” jimin leans forward, looking conspiratorial, so jungkook leans forward too. “we don’t really know what his specialty is, other than taehyung, but that’s because taehyung sees the future and he hates giving away secrets. i’m friends with a couple other people here and it’s so, so hard to get yoongi out of his apartment to do anything! only namjoon can do it.”

jungkook’s head spins with names. “uh...”

“don’t worry about it,” jimin pats him on the shoulder. “i’ll introduce you to everyone, they’ll love you! we all go to shinbi anyways, so it’d be nice to see someone you know around. i remember when i was a freshman; it was terrifying to go around campus if i didn’t know seokjin hyung,” he admits.

such kindness makes jungkook’s cheeks flush. he thanks jimin for his kindness. distantly, he wonders if jimin is the one friend who keeps in touch with everyone in very social circle ever.

“oh, you were talking about the windows and stuff, right?” jungkook nods. “well, the one thing you should know is that this building along with others - we don’t really know the locations - are pretty much created by magic. did you manage to see that dragon outside?”

“that was really a dragon then?” jungkook is in awe, remembering the colorful creature. “like an actual dragon?”

jimin affirms so with a nod. “it’s a yong dragon. say hi to it sometime! it’ll come down from sunbathing if it likes you. but yeah, if you touch any part of the room and think about what you want, it’ll change for you; since the place is tied to your magical signature, no one else can change it except for you, so don’t worry about dumb pranks,” jimin laughs. “it’s more like to backfire than anything.”

“that’s cool,” jungkook says. must be why his door is an assortment of delicate yellow flowers - he had buttercups on the mind. “um...if it’s not too much, can i ask you about school? like, about how the school is?”

jimin sets down his chopsticks on top of his bowl and shuffles forward. his eyes are wide and earnest, smile warm, especially when he leans forward and ruffles jungkook’s hair like he’s a particularly cute kid. it sort of reminds him of his own brother. “listen here, jungkookie. if you need help with anything, anything at all, let me know. i’d be happy to help! here, give me your phone, i’ll put my number in. then you can text me anytime you want, alright? i’ll answer any question about shinbi that you have!”

pleased that he’s at least made one friend in this whole city, jungkook hands over his phone and watches as jimin puts himself in as jimin hyung with a thumbs up emoji. jungkook puts himself in as jeon jungkook, a little leaf emoji next to it. it causes jimin to crack up, which is what he wanted.

shinbi university is a place filled with practitioners, jimin says. (jungkook refrains from saying the easy i knew that, he really holds it in.) there’s a lot of classes there that range on your own ability, and most of the first year classes are what every first year has to go through along with a couple of classes that are decided by your proficiency in subjects taught beforehand or by specialization. jungkook gets a little excited at the thought of making all those poultices and potions that are in his future - his mother and father had never bothered to teach him, mostly because neither of them have the same botanical specialization that he does. jimin mentions that he does have to take college math (which fucking seriously? what does that have to do with magic??) and to that, jimin says that there are a lot of arcane engineers in their school, especially when it comes to their masters program.

other than it, the student life is pretty cool. sometimes there are wild parties, which surprises jungkook, but jimin tells him apologetically that it’s just what happens when you have only friday and saturday free to really do what you want before sunday is homework day and the rest of the week is there for death by academics. there’s a lot of cool clubs and, just as jungkook expected, each specialization has its own department, giving shinbi university nearly a hundred departments of it’s own.

“how in the world do they fit every single office there,” jungkook mutters, intrigued, and jimin shakes his head: it’s a mystery to them both. of course magic can create bigger offices and rooms, but there’s only so much it can do with the limitations of space.

“i’ve already registered for classes,” jungkook tells him, reaching for his phone as soon as jimin says, “oh, seriously? let me see your schedule!”

he brings up his schedule from his photo gallery, passing it on. jungkook quite likes his timetable of classes - it was a block schedule that he had to choose from for most of his core classes, so he knows that for two of them he’s going to see the same people over and over every day for four days a week, but the other three classes that he’s taking were choices of his own.

“korean composition and literature,” jimin starts reading off, “introduction to supernatural history...wow, magical theory already? that’s a third year class! and botanical sciences, nice. what’s this last one? mixing foundations: potionagics?”

“i chose the last three,” jungkook tells him. “the first two were what i had to take for pre-requisites...i took a lot of magical theory when i was studying in high school, so they gave me credits for the philosophy courses behind that.”

“i heard it’s difficult,” jimin says sympathetically. “good luck, man. hey, i think namjoon might be taking that, i’ll text him and find out. maybe if you guys meet, you can help each other out! namjoon’s one of the smartest sparkers i’ve ever known, but he can get so into what he’s doing that he forgets the rest of the world. maybe you can help him remember to breathe sometimes if things get to be too much.”

“more like i’ll be the one asking for his help.”

jimin talks a little bit about his own classes, which are a couple of advanced classes from jungkook’s beginner courses and a couple of his own specialization classes. “i was in the arcane engineering program, but i dropped out,” jimin confides. “it was way too much work and pressure for something that i didn’t even love. in the end, i’ve decided to try going for a research position in my field in the future. maybe get a ph.d in electrical practitioning,” he grins.

“wait, you work with electricity?”

“pretty cool, huh?” jimin huffs. he looks this way and that, before going, “here, sit back a little.”

jungkook follows his words, shuffling back and putting his feet up. if there’s anything he’s learned in life, it’s to not mess with static electricity and rugs. jimin rubs his hands together and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath; when he exhales, his eyes snap open. they’re a bright, startling blue, so unnatural that jungkook can’t help but stare for a second. he literally feels the hair on the end of his arms rise, and a couple of strands of jimin’s dark hair seem to stand on end as well. he has both of his palms outstretched, and connected between his fingers are slashes of lightning, crackling bright and loud, pure energy.

“holy shit, that’s awesome,” jungkook gapes, blue light illuminating his face and adding shadows across jimin’s.

with a clap of his hands, the lightning disappears, and jimin stares him sheepishly. it’s such a difference to see him as he is now, all fluffy haired and moon eyed, versus when he’s using his powers - brimming with a deadly energy that jungkook can feel in his bones. “it’s nothing much,” the other laughs, looking bashful. “i know it looks cool and all, but sometimes it can be a serious hassle. i can’t use it for everyday stuff like you can use your plants, and i certainly can’t..really use it to do any good. the most i can do is turn things to ash.”

“hey, i’m sure that you can do a lot of stuff,” jungkook protests, not willing to hear his new friend talk bad about himself. “you’re like a little generator all by yourself. don’t knock yourself down, we might need you during a power outage!”

jimin gapes at him for a moment, before breaking out into loud laughter. “wow, you’re a little brat, aren’t you?” jungkook grins at him. “that’s great. i love it. we’re gonna be real great friends, jungkookie, i just know it.”

smiling, jungkook finishes the rest of his food. he sure hopes so.

/

it’s nearly one in the afternoon when jungkook wakes up next. his apartment still has the freshly moved in smell to it, clogging up his nostrils and making his rhinitis flare up more than usual. rubbing at his nose, jungkook checks through his phone for all the different notifications. there are a couple of his busan friends asking about his new school, a group chat with his brother and his mom that’s been untouched for a couple of days (all of them are awful about answering texts) and one from jimin, who has added him on kakaotalk and sent a sticker to celebrate.

jungkook pulls out a croissant to nibble on for lunch, thinking that maybe he’ll be a bit more adventurous today and go somewhere different for food. he has reliable naver on hand to help him get back home. getting lost is half the fun, after all. while most people would need more than one person to decide where to go and have fun, jungkook is fine just being by himself for a while. thinking about his day and already searching up what he can do on naver, he pulls out a glass of milk for himself and runs a hand through his still messy hair.

the doorbell rings while he’s in the middle of searching for greenhouses nearby. blinking, jungkook takes note of the time - almost two o’clock - and wonders if it’s jimin again, though jimin seems like the type of person to at least let you know that you’re coming before actually stopping by.

behind his door is one of the most handsome people jungkook’s ever met in his life; he’s tall and broad shouldered, with fine facial features and well styled hair. even in a plain hoodie and jeans, he looks so intimidating good looking that jungkook is dumbfounded for a moment.

“hey,” the handsome guy smiles, making jungkook wonder if he’s dreaming (handsome men just don’t! show up on your doorstep unless you’re in a dream!), holding up a brown bag to jungkook’s eyesight. “you’re our new neighbor, right? i’m kim seokjin, pleased to meet you.”

“jeon jungkook,” good job on not stuttering, jungkook. he pats himself on the back mentally. “um, come in.” his manners kick in last minute; he opens the door a little wider and seokjin comes inside to take off his shoes.

even his feet look nice, jungkook thinks blankly to himself, before coming to the conclusion that staring at people’s feet is a touch bit weird. even for him.

“you didn’t have to, uh,” he motions to the large brown bag that seokjin is holding. “i mean, really. i just woke up...” why is he saying this? (he needs justification for why he looks like a mess. jungkook isn’t like this usually.)

seokjin laughs. “it’s no problem. i would be sleeping in too if it weren’t for my job,” he sighs, before giving jungkook another winning smile. “i wanted to stop by and give some welcome gifts! it’s not a lot - there’s a kimchi fridge in here and some food i made myself, figured that moving in means having a lot of takeout for the first few days.”

feeling pleasantly warm, jungkook can feel rather than see his cheeks turn pink. “oh, thanks.” all his neighbors are nice, he thinks to himself. maybe they’ll like a couple of gifts from him, too? thank-you-for-your-gift gifts? jungkook is broke, he doesn’t have much to offer that isn’t going toward rent or food, but he could at least give everyone a couple of flowers. “that’s way more than i expected,” he admits, sort of feeling the need to bow. he takes the gift gratefully too, bowing a little with his hand on his elbow. “thanks, really.”

“call me hyung!” seokjin smiles. looking around, he goes, “it’s really nice here. you’ve got stuff set up so quick.”

“there’s still a lot of work to do,” jungkook says. “i haven’t really done any fine tuning, you could say. i want to get it over with before i start school and this place turns into a mess.”

suddenly, seokjin brightens. “oh, are you going to shinbi university? i’m doing my masters there right now. it’s really great, you’ll love it.”

“yeah, i’m in my first year,” jungkook reveals, smiling. “wow, you’re five years older than me? you don’t look that old.”

“my natural charm,” seokjin raises a hand to his face, the action so ironically narcissistic that jungkook bubbles over with a laugh. “hey, you don’t think i’m handsome? i’ll have you know that i’m the most handsome person on this floor,” the other jokes, eyes crinkling.

“nice to know,” jungkook hides a smile behind his hands. “really, thanks so much for bringing this over!”

“no problem!” seokjin taps at his wrist in a mock imitation of a watch. “i wanted to introduce myself briefly and say hi before i go to work, so i’m sorry i can’t stay longer. but hopefully we get to see each other more often!”

“yeah,” jungkook waves as seokjin starts slipping his feet into his boots; “thank you for dropping by!” seokjin sends him a two fingered salute and starts heading down the stairs. jungkook watches him go with a smile, feeling warm; when he pulls his hand away from the door, there’s a little vine of lilies growing there where his fingers curl over the plaster. jungkook sighs and shoos it away, hoping no one sees. instead of growing further, the lilies heed his command and shrink back, moving into the apartment instead. jungkook rolls his eyes; better than nothing.

while no one’s out of their homes yet, jungkook takes a quick peek at jimin and seokjin’s door. jimin’s is a bright blue with jagged chevron patterns in white, looking for all intents and purposes like the inside of a clothing catalog. seokjin’s is a warm yellow, complimenting jungkook’s own, and at the edges there are patterns of chinese dragons looping all around. it’s very festive; the door next to jungkook’s, the elusive yoongi’s, is still the same as before. it even looks a bit out of place next to everyone else’s brightly patterned doors. i wonder what kind of person he is, jungkook muses as he closes his own door.

/

a third knock sounds on his door while jungkook is trying to fix his shower curtains. he wishes that he had a glass door for the shower, but he’s got to use what he’s given. the ringing is so unexpected that he nearly slips off the side of the shower stall. standing uncomfortably on the edge of the small ring around the shower is the only to get to the actual pole itself, and the entire thing is a huge balancing act. one that he had been doing pretty okay in until that very moment.

he sets down the curtains and the curtain rings to the side, promising that he’ll let himself deal with all of it later. instead he goes to get the door, fixing the front of his shirt and checking for any wet spots along the way. it seems like whenever people come over to his place, he always resembles a daft penguin. more than that, the very action of having to open his own door is a little bit exciting for him; there’s no one else in the apartment to tell him to open it or not, it’s all his own choice. that may be a little frightening, thinking about how people are coming to his door that he doesn’t even know, but for the most part jungkook has only met nice ones so far.

at the door is another guy around his age, smiling widely and giving him a little wave. it’s nearly four pm, two hours since seokjin visited. jungkook still has the unopened box of a brand new kimchi fridge resting on his countertop.

“hi, i’m taehyung,” he says, waving a little. with pale hair and a dangling earring, he looks like he could come straight out of a manga. is everyone good looking here? jungkook thinks to himself, ignoring that little niggle of familiarity that comes with hearing taehyung’s name. “can i come in?”

“um,” jungkook doesn’t know what else to do but open his door a bit wider before he even realizes what’s going on. taehyung takes off his shoes neatly and leaves them by the side of the door, in an odd place. jungkook doesn’t mention it. instead of standing around and waiting for jungkook to tell him to make himself comfortable, taehyung takes the opportunity to do it himself - he settles down on the corner seat nearest to the door and looks out the window, humming something underneath his breath.

“i like strawberry plants,” taehyung starts, turning to give jungkook a big smile. it’s kind of boxy and very, very friendly. “also, it’s a little bit chilly outside.”

“oh, i guess so,” jungkook glances to the window that taehyung had been looking at. a lot of his pots are still all over the place on the balcony. “it’s not strawberry season, is it?”

“not really, but spring is only a couple months away.”

this might be the single most weirdest conversation he’s ever had. jungkook picks at the hem of his shirt and looks around this way and that, hoping for something to explain what’s going on to him, when taehyung says: “sorry for him, by the way. he’s a little excitable.”

“who?” jungkook just about gets the word out when his doorbell rings again. bewildered and a little bit more than creeped out, he opens it again. jimin is standing on the other side in a leather jacket, holding his phone and scowling at it. when he sees jungkook he wipes that irritable look off his face. “oh, hey, you’re home! good, good - i was going to ask if you wanted to come along with me to go shopping. i really need to buy some stuff for school, and i’m sure you’ll need someone to help you find all the good places... i was going to get my best friend taehyung to come along with us,” he shakes his voice, voice suddenly lowering, “but that jerk isn’t answering his phone.”

jungkook blinks, then turns around to see taehyung snickering at them. “um.”

jimin, without even looking into the room, deadpans, “he’s already here, isn’t he. son of a bitch.”

“i would love to go!” taehyung says cheerfully from inside jungkook’s apartment.

“kim taehyung,” jimin snarls, stomping his way past jungkook into his apartment. jungkook’s glad that he didn’t trip over taehyung’s shoes - which, wow, he put them there for that reason? - and that the living room doesn’t have any carpet. “don’t use your goddamn powers whenever you feel like it.”

“i don’t control my visions, my visions control me,” taehyung says sunnily.

“shut up,” jimin points at him, wagging his finger around. there might have been sparks tipping from the edge of it, too. “you, come on, we’re going to go shopping. jungkook, do you have everything? wait, do you even want to go?”

“i wouldn’t be here if he didn’t say yes,” taehyung points out.

“um,” as far as he can remember, he hasn’t said yes.

jimin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and then fondly swatting at taehyung’s head. “this one specializes in divinity. he’s always pulling this kind of stuff, showing up for parties or outings before you even think about it yourself, but when it comes to if we’re having a pop quiz or not,” jimin gives taehyung a severe side eye; “he’s suddenly blind and deaf.”

“if everyone did well on pop quizzes it’d be suspicious,” taehyung argues, before grinning, “and then i wouldn’t get praised for the only one getting a perfect grade.”

jungkook senses that jimin is holding back a curse or maybe a bolt of lightning straight at taehyung’s face, because his fingers really do crackle this time. hurrying to pull away his new friend from his even newer friend before the collateral is his home, jungkook pulls at jimin’s elbow and laughs nervously. “yeah, sure, hyung. i need some new notebooks and stationary anyways; let me get my wallet and change into something nicer.”

“alright! there’s some other stuff that you’re probably going to need as a freshman, so we’ll get those too,” jimin says.

taehyung gasps, “wow, what a small child. come here, let me hug you.”

jungkook slips into his room as jimin deadpans, “who the hell wants to hug you?” and taehyung squawks in indignation in return. while they’re discussing taehyung’s ability to be hugged and level of comfort when it comes to hugging, jungkook changes into a shirt and jeans, pulls out his favorite green light jacket, and runs a hand through his hair. cursory check: phone, keys, wallet. he texts his mom to tell her that any text notifs she gets is because he’s out buying stuff for school.

jimin is staring at one of the pots when he gets back, tracing fingers around a bright blue one that has little painted daisies on it. it was one of the first potted plants jungkook ever grew himself, and the size of his memory reflects back on that; it looks about big enough for a kindergartener to use, which is how old jungkook had been when his powers started trickling in.

“this is cute,” jimin tells him, to which jungkook smiles, embarrassed. “ready? taehyung is putting on his shoes, and i was just waiting for you. we can go get food after we’re done with everything.”

“lets go get pizza!” taehyung raises his hand straight up in the sky, like he’s in class.

“i like pizza,” jungkook agrees.

jimin starts looking at things on his phone while simultaneously groaning at taehyung for taking so slow, why is he always like this, please give me a break kim taehyung. jungkook closes his door behind him and smiles.

/

seoul is a lot nicer in the day, jungkook decides, even with the settling autumn wind. they first head to a large department store to find the basic materials they need for school. jimin tells him that he’ll get a book list on the first day of class from all his professors but not before - they’re a little too unorganized for that, nearly all practitioners are, don’t you agree? jungkook saves some money just in case, even when jimin tells him that most of them don’t even use the books half the time.

he buys a notebook for each class, making sure that they had a nice amount of pages. jungkook’s not too good at memorizing, so the way he tends to remember stuff is if he writes his notes over and over again. it also helps him because by the time he loses one stack of notes at the end of the semester, he always has a couple of back ups stored away in a folder somewhere. he’s actually excited to finally use his computer in class because he types a lot faster than he writes, which will save him a lot of time and let him really focus on the professor.

along with the books, he gets a pack of pencils, some markers and paints (those are self indulgent, but they were on clearance) some stuff for his classes later on. taehyung buys a lot of huge notebooks (he’s informed that taehyung writes really big and really sloppily and has a bad habit of tearing out pages when something doesn’t come out the way he wants it) and jimin focuses a lot on buying a bunch of mechanical stuff, surprisingly. jungkook grabs a few other things - folders, a nice water bottle - and taehyung winks at him before putting in a charger organizer in his cart. jungkook is still not quite sure why taehyung had to add the wink.

a nice little boutique manages to catch taehyung’s eye; he’s the one that drags them with their plastic bags to the little well lit place, looking around at all the racks of clothing. half of the store is meant for women, the other half for men. jungkook trails off after taehyung; jimin tells him that taehyung’s always been really good at choosing stuff that looks good, even if it seems ridiculous at first.

he’s not wrong, and he’s uncannily good at finding what jungkook likes to wear. he buys a cable knit white sweater for the upcoming season, and also a pair of silver earrings shaped like drop leaves that taehyung finds for him. it’s not too expensive, so jungkook keeps it at that and plans to save the rest of their pizza. by the time jimin and taehyung are done choosing things for themselves, each of them wanting about three pieces each, it’s already starting to get dark. jungkook rubs at his arms and wishes that he had maybe brought something heavier for the little chilly breeze the night brings. he hangs onto his bags and looks down with the satisfaction you usually get when buying something new for yourself.

jimin finally finishes paying at the register and they disappear to get pizza. taehyung declares that they should go to mr. pizza, because - “listen, sometimes you just want cheap flavor and take out food, you know? it’s like it’s own taste that you can have a craving for. it’s like the honey mustard at subways - there’s only the honey mustard at subways, no other honey mustard tastes the same - “ “but i don’t like honey mustard, i like the spicy sauce...” “jimin, this is to explain, also how do you not like honey mustard? jungkook, you like honey mustard, right?” - but they end up at a pizza place they find randomly on the street after walking around for a while.

they settle down with their bags tucked in between their legs; jungkook sits all the way the edge of the wall and sighs in a little bit of relief when he feels his muscles relax. jimin hums underneath his breath and reaches forward to take the menu -

“wow, we should just go to mcdonalds instead,” he snorts, putting down the menu as if the very sight of it burns him immensely. taehyung whistles at the price. jungkook almost chokes on air when he sees that there are no slices of pizza here, only personal mini pizzas and large pizzas to share with others. there’s a bunch of other food, too, but most of it is for a large group of people.

“let’s just pitch in for this one,” taehyung points to the medium sized pizza that allows for three toppings, drinks, and a side of french fries for everyone at the table. “look, it comes with two dipping sauces, too, all of it is like 22,000 won all together. it doesn’t sound too bad!”

“whenever you spend money in one go, you can convince yourself it’s not much, huh,” jimin mutters to himself, looking at his bank account from his phone. with a sniff, he goes, “well, i’ll be eating a lot of ramen in the future anyways, so who cares. let’s splurge. we’ll split it three ways?”

“sounds good to me,” jungkook waves his hand a little to get the waiter’s attention.

he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun outside, just hanging out with friends. there are a lot of people back home in busan that he misses, but he thought the aching hole of them would have been larger than it actually feels like. jungkook learns that taehyung used to live in daegu and he’s always known jimin was from busan, so the pleasant mix of their different satoori is welcome in such an unfamiliar place. jungkook hadn’t been the most outspoken of people when it came to being in high school, so many of his friends were supernatural beings that usually hid themselves under the guise of being human. for practitioners like him, passing off as human wasn’t a problem - but for yugyeom, his friend who was half pixie and refused to admit even under duress, would have to hide their less than human features (like his pointy ears and slightly sharper features).

a lot of that loneliness is covered up and patched through by taehyung and jimin, who become fast friends to him despite being two years older and already into their junior year. they’re busy, jungkook knows, with their fast approaching graduation date but they manage to find time for him and treat him kindly. jungkook is glad that he has friends like them, really.

their pizza turns out a lot bigger than expected, making the price definitely worth it. jungkook downs two slices before he doesn’t feel as ravenous as before, taehyung picking off all the olives from the top of his pizza and setting them on jungkook’s plate, who nibbles on each one. jimin downs his pizza easily, chewing thoughtfully before deeming it satisfactory. jungkook’s just glad for food - when was the last time he ate, really?

“this reminds me, i need to go grocery shopping after this,” jimin says between bites. “i mean, i won’t find time to do it next week; professor tang is probably going to have me all tied up in doing conductivity shit.”

at jungkook’s look of confusion, taehyung explains, “it’s one of jimin’s specification professors - he’s a hardass, apparently, and has an accent.”

“he’s taiwanese,” jimin adds. “i need to be able to pay attention in his class and not worry about what i’m going to make myself on the weekend.”

“you mean what kind of kimbap you’re going to make now?”

“exactly,” jimin finishes gravely, “i don’t want to have to resort to using shrimp chips as a filling again. don’t laugh, jungkook, those were dark days.”

“i’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow, i think,” jungkook laughs. “i brought a lot of pots and pans from home, so i should be good. the stove is bigger than i expected, and there’s even an oven!”

“it’s truly the little things,” taehyung says solemnly.

“shut up, you burn water,” jimin grumbles. “your stove sees more dust than your vacuum cleaner does.”

“my place is gorgeous and highly refined, very organized,” taehyung scoffs.

“there’s piles of weird divinity stuff from like, five years ago in your bathroom.”

“it’s called selective disorganization,” he emphasizes this with wide eyes. “also, i like looking into a crystal ball while i’m taking a nice bath, okay, no judging.”

“want us to see you off, jungkook?” jimin asks, setting his portion of the payment on top of the bill for the waiter to collect. there’s a bit of pizza left and a lot of fries and side dishes, so they have those packed up in neat little boxes to take home. at least he’ll be good for tomorrow’s lunch. “we can go to that supermarket on the next block.”

“the cheaper one is on this street, though.”

jungkook waves away their worries. “it’s okay, i’ll take a short bus ride home rather than walking. i have enough change for it, so it’s no problem! i think i just want to go home and sleep.” maybe sorting out his bag is a good idea too, just to fix everything up before classes really start next week.

“go home safe,” jimin hollers when they’re finally outside, waving relentlessly. jungkook feels a flush of warmth go through him at their worry, even at taehyung’s questionable, “don’t be scared, jungkook! he’s not mean,  just a little cranky, i promise!” judging by jimin’s querying look, he doesn’t know what taehyung’s talking about either. jungkook has a feeling that he won’t know what taehyung’s saying half the time in the course of their friendship.

he keeps all of his purchases on his lap on the bus, happy with the day and stuffed full. his mom’s texted him back for a couple hours now, a simple have fun and don’t go overboard with a little sticker that includes clinking beer glasses. jungkook texts back i didn’t drink!! and counts the number of bags he has on him to make sure he’s not missing anything. the bus stop that he needs to get off at is only two stops away. he sits all the way in the front, were an old lady is crocheting something with wrinkled hands. jungkook spends most of the time watching her fingers quickly move, wondering how the heck she’s doing that. walking back to his own apartment is probably a feeling he’ll never quite get used to. it’s nice, feeling the wind through his hair and biting at his cheeks, knowing that he can just head inside and won’t have to hear his mother scolding him for flopping everywhere.

the door appears instantly now for jungkook, appearing neat and clean. the tail end of the yong dragon flicks across the edge of the door, once again trying it’s ascent to the sky, and jungkook can’t wait to try on his new stuff.

heading toward his door, however, he hears something else - something out of the ordinary. passing by seokjin and jimin’s door, jungkook notices a broad backed figure standing in front of the door right next to jungkook’s apartment, cursing loudly at the door. he turns around a little to jingle his keys, flipping through all the keys there and checking the ridges. even under the warm light, the guy - jungkook’s neighbor - looks withdrawn, a little pale. he’s decked out in all black, from his hair to his shiny boots. the most color jungkook can see on him is the gray messenger bag he has and the silver bracelets on one hand.

“literally what the fuck,” the guy goes, irritated, voice a low growl. he swears again and kicks his door; jungkook swallows, because the aura around this dude is no joke.

“um, hello,” jungkook starts, coming closer. “do you need any help? i’m your new neighbor.”

the guy whips his head around at the sound of jungkook’s voice and glares so harshly jungkook feels his blood  turn to ice. with an embarrassed flush beginning at the tips of his ears, jungkook coughs into his fist, “um, sorry, i - “ his voice trails off, because what is he sorry for, exactly? it’s not like he’s done anything to the other guy.

“i don’t need any help,” he snaps, so jungkook nods mutely and quickly and pitches forward to unlock his own door, brushing away a couple of buttercup petals that fall onto his face; they’re withering quickly for some reason, but jungkook doesn’t think past wanting to get away from this guy who looks like he’s ready to stab someone.

he’s hurriedly rushing to put his stuff down and close his door, so he barely hears when his neighbor goes - “the hell?” accompanied by the sound of a door creaking open. jungkook shuts his own door and kicks off his shoes, setting them neatly aside, breathing in and out. grabbing his things, he heads to his bedroom.

when he’s a bit more alone, jungkook remembers what jimin had told him about his neighbor - yoongi, if he remembers the name right - and how he wasn’t that bad of a guy. hopefully yoongi is someone else (jungkook highly doubts it) because the guy standing in front of the door today? looked like he was about three seconds away from blasting his door to smithereens. possibly blasting jungkook to tiny jungkook pieces, too.

katalk! jungkook checks his phone; his mom texts him, sure you didn’t, baby. remember to drink responsibly!!! jungkook sighs in exasperation but smiles.

/

he settles all of his things as best as he can in a neat row. jungkook inhales, taking in the slight sweet scent of summer dying into autumn, the welcoming crisp air. closing the doors to his balcony, jungkook rubs at the goosebumps on his arms; inside, it’s always a warm temperature. he never has to worry about the thermostat, because this type of temperature is perfect for him - and for his plants.

jungkook’s fingers tap a rhythm on the wall. he’s installed all of his hanging fixtures, and they’ve been properly sorted out with their pots and seed bags. staring up at the dirt and grass, jungkook smiles.

he closes his eyes. breathes it in. in seoul, the magic that runs underneath the city is a bit grungy, dirty, sort like a sewage filter. jungkook rests his head against the wall for a moment and hums along the frequency of the building itself. he understands, now - this is magic itself, in it’s loveliest and truest form, so pure and untouched. it’s almost heady, feeding into him good feelings and fresh air, the way one feels after not being clean for weeks and then suddenly discovering soap and water. like being cleansed. jungkook revels in the feeling for a moment, and wonders how in the word the building can supplement all of them.

distantly, he thinks that maybe - he hears a low, chuckling rumble.

from what he can remember about each and every single little plant’s growth cycle, jungkook coaxes forth their seedling, their blossom. life is like that, like these little seeds - born from something so small to grow into something so wonderful. he waits and persuades, pulling at magic laced fingers to ask for more, more, just a little more. jungkook whispers words of comfort and ease, it’ll be better where the sun is, and the familiar pull of magic tells him that his spell has succeeded.

when he opens his eyes again, blooms of all kind are flourishing around his room.

from the ceiling there are vines of lovely moonflowers in full bloom, white and sky blue, spilling over their potted havens. they tangle and mix with each other to create a structure lattice all across his ceiling, narrowly avoiding the light  fixture. purple wisteria fight sullenly against the glories, wanting their own place to shine, and sweet smelling ivory climb the walls, king of their own simplicity. all vying for jungkook’s attention.

on the potted plants of his shelves, teacup roses and peonies unfurl shyly. they wave hello to him before turning their dusky pink faces back to their own leaves, taking care of each other, saving water. the more aggressive flowers, red hibiscus and white lilies, stall tall and proud, already watching over the room from their magical sleep. the tiny, playful flowers grow at the bottom, along the edge - they’re the ones that like to trip him up, sometimes - daisies, little daffodils, blush pink amaryllis. sweet smelling jasmine and orchids, content to be where they are at the top of jungkook’s shelves, blend together with their lovely scent and color. the traditional plants that have no flowering watch on enviously, and jungkook reminds himself to give them some extra attention later.

he pulls away from his magic, blinks at all the green, and thinks: this is finally home.

/

jungkook’s just about finished ordering his books when taehyung knocks on his door, calling out in a muffled voice, “jungkook! it’s me, your favorite hyung, let me in!”

unlocking the door and blowing away a couple of dead buttercup petals, jungkook tells him, “how do you know you’re my favorite hyung?” before frowning at the dead flowers. he picks up the buttercup petals anyway, rolling them in between his fingers and watching them turn into wet mush.

“you might want to do some cleanup,” taehyung points up at the buttercup vine that is now also dead. jungkook huffs. “jimin told me to tell you to come over tonight, in about an hour and a half. we’re going to have everyone over for some movies and food, so don’t forget! you can meet all of us. i’m going early to help him set up and stuff because i’m a bomb ass friend.”

“i’ll be sure to come,” jungkook promises, waving a hand and watching in satisfaction as bright yellow petals bloom again, five petals, small and cute.

“that’s so adorable,” taehyung marvels. “wow, you specialize in something so cute, what the hell.”

“plants are not cute,” jungkook grumbles, “they can kill you. there are many of them that look cute but can suffocate you in three seconds.”

taehyung smiles wide at him, eyes twinkling. “is this a metaphor for yourself? ‘cause i think you’re harmless.”

“what, no,” jungkook snaps, flushing. “i’m not cute. you’re not my favorite hyung, leave me alone.”

“the future says i’m your favorite hyung,” taehyung whines, entering jungkook’s apartment easily. “remember, i know all, i see all!” the end of his voice takes on a spooky turn, rising and falling as taehyung bugs his eyes out and holds onto his hand with a blank face.

“stop, you’re too good at that,” he mumbles, pulling away. jimin warned him about this. “hyung, do you want anything to drink?”

“can i have some tea? jimin likes coffee over tea, that uncultured swine.”

“uh, i think i have some green tea in my cabinets,” jungkook goes to check right now; he’s gone grocery shopping, but it was so late at night that all he can remember is putting over his card and signing his name. “wait a second.”

“okay, sure - wow, holy shit, did i just enter a greenhouse,” taehyung blinks rapidly, cursing the vines that smack him in the face as he finally sees jungkook’s furnished apartment. he snickers a little; serves him right, jungkook thinks. “jungkook, this thing is trying to strangle me help,”

“if you didn’t see it killing you then it probably won’t,” jungkook answers, eyes all butter wouldn’t melt, but flicks his fingers to tell the particularly petty wisteria vine to leave taehyung alone. he rubs at his face and stares up at the plant in distrust, leaving jungkook to stifle laughter at the purple petals pressed against his face.

“i don’t like this smartassery,” taehyung grumbles. “if i knew you were all this under a cute facade, i wouldn’t have brought over my friendship. i want a refund.”

“but we’ve only known each other for less than a week, hyung.”

taehyung points a finger at him. “i see the future. also, when you’re going to choose something to wear, pick the black shirt.”

jimin was right: that is annoying.

jungkook sets down the cup of tea in front of him, planning to take a shower and wipe off all the sweat and grime that sticks to his body. so far he’s just been doing a bunch of workouts at home; he plans to make full use of his student privileges and work out on the campus gym instead of going anywhere near a private gym membership. jungkook would like to eat, sometimes.

he finds it a bit weird how well he’s starting to show himself to taehyung and jimin, but it’s almost like he’s known them his entire life. they’re both warm and open, their magic zappy and genial, so jungkook feels like he fits right in. he pokes his head into the living room to tell taehyung that he’s taking a quick shower, please don’t touch anything, and heads back to grab some sweatpants and a shirt to change into. his shower is quick and fast, leaving jungkook mulling over his new friends as he lathers himself down with his favorite lightly scented body wash. his hair drips as he’s trying to wipe himself down fast enough to put on his sweats. jungkook rubs at his wet hair and hopes that it’ll dry up by the end of the hour.

putting on some deodorant and doing his skin routine all in one go - he forgot to do it this morning, anyway, and doing it after a hot shower is always nice - he takes a bit more time than usual in the shower to make sure that he doesn’t have any of those disgustingly ugly acne scars. he hates acne scars. he always gets acne scars.

by the time he gets out, taehyung has made himself comfortable on jungkook’s couch and has already started watching some drama on tv while simultaneously texting someone on his phone. his fingers cover it up well, but there’s a huge sticker of a bear on his clear case.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up to him. “hey! i was going to go earlier, but jimin texted me and told me that it’d be okay if i waited for you and went up together. he and seokjin are talking about wine, apparently, and i’m not invited.”

“you don’t look like a wine person,” jungkook says wisely, although he’s probably had about three glasses of alcohol in his entire life.

“you’re right,” taehyung wags a finger at him. “i’m a complete jello shot person. have you ever tried those? no? you should, me and jimin will be your bad influences. remember, wear the black shirt!”

“there’s like thirty minutes left,” jungkook argues.

“time is no friend when it comes to looking good, jungkook.”

“maybe i don’t want to look good,” he mumbles, but heads to his bedroom anyways, feeling a lot like a scolded child. it’s a lie, of course, a sullen expression from someone who is pushing him to do something. jungkook’s always been a little bit like this, always pushing back when being told what to do. he does care what others think of him, to some degree. since it’s jimin and seokjin, people who have been kind to him since he’s been there, the least he can do is look nice.

in the end he has to choose between a dark blue button down that’s warm and comfortable, as well as a black sweater paired with a couple of distressed jeans that he saves for good occasions. after a moment of hesitation, jungkook sighs and puts on the black sweater, feeling like it makes him look better when he sees himself in the mirror - even though he’s kind of wanting to wear his comfy button down - and puts on the little silver earrings he bought out with jimin and taehyung. it might make them smile to see it.

grabbing his phone and his keys, jungkook wipes at his sniffling nose with a tissue and runs a hand through his still damp hair. there’s still a good thirty minutes before jimin told him to come by, but the nerves are setting him and he wants to make a good impression.

this is mostly the reason why he insists, “um, hyung, let’s go now.”

“what, now?”

jungkook nods. taehyung seems to read his expression well, roving over his eyes and the little press of his lips, before smiling and reaching up to pat him gently on the shoulder. “yeah, sure. it’s right across the hall, that’s the best part! leave your shoes and just walk down there in your socks, haha.”

with taehyung’s silly antics, jungkook feels himself calm down a bit. he rubs at his elbows as if he’s cold and tilts his head to the side briefly in confusion before realizing taehyung is really going to leave his shoes here and walk down the few meters to jimin’s door with his star printed socks. jungkook pulls at his bangs and slips on a pair of house slippers instead.

he wishes he could have had the forethought to bring something, but taehyung had told him really last minute. jimin apparently texted him earlier about it - in the morning - but jungkook didn’t have the time to charge his phone before he was going through his usual motions. excited, he had cracked open a couple of his magic books to start reading, but found  their wording a bit too complicated without a proper explanation. even so, jungkook wants to bounce in place just thinking about what he’s going to learn.

jimin’s place is a lot tamer than his is. there’s almost no indication of his own little specialization, unlike jungkook’s own home. instead his apartment is a lot more spacious, with cloud patterns on the wall and dark furniture. it’s spacious and clean; jimin takes care of his things well. the layout is similar to jungkook’s own apartment, but instead of a balcony jimin has a couple of windows just as they are. it’s a little smaller than jungkook likes, personally, but he smiles when jimin catches sight of him.

“hey, nice to see you here! namjoon hyung is getting yoongi hyung out of his dark cave, so they should be here soon,” jimin tells him, patting jungkook on the back. “so you met seokjin-hyung?”

“yeah,” jungkook nods a little at seokjin, who finishes up the piece of bread in his hands and lets out a little greeting back.

“did he give you food?”

“everyone likes food,” seokjin argues.

jungkook nods. “yeah, he did. i’m glad, though, because it puts off me having to cook for longer.”

jimin offers him a glass of soda and points him toward a snack table, where there’s a bunch of sweet and salty little things to nibble on. jungkook grabs a plate and fills it with a couple of chips, using a spoon to pour some dip on the side of his plate. when he puts some in his mouth, it turns out to be some type of rich, spicy salsa.

“do you have any cheese,” taehyung asks seriously. “there are nachos here, but i sense no cheese.”

“i wanted to try making fondue, so jimin said he would skip out on the cheese. it’s on the stove right now, simmering.”

“even better,” taehyung breathes, before reaching out to grab a muffin. “what have you got set up for all of us today, jimin-the-master-party-planner?”

seokjin chortles. “he only ever plans pta mom parties; you know, with board games and non alcoholic snacks and drinks.”

“how do you make an alcoholic snack?”

“anything is possible if you believe hard enough,” seokjin says solemnly, while jimin huffs.

“i like board games,” jungkook offers, smiling shyly at jimin, quiet enough that his voice doesn’t carry over to taehyung and seokjin.

jimin gives him a beatific smile. “you’re my favorite dongsaeng.”

“he’s your only dongsaeng...” taehyung points out, only to be met with a waspish, “no one asked you, taehyung.”

jungkook opens his mouth to add something, but seokjin startles at that very moment and swears. his usual lenient posture turns rigid as he runs toward the kitchen, hands glowing red; “oh shit the stove!”

“hyung, don’t burn my place down,” jimin groans. jungkook tries to peek into the kitchen to see what seokjin is up to, curious about his own powers and how he uses them. seokjin doesn’t seem to bother fiddling around with the knobs of the electric stove, instead, manipulating the fire directly. after he moves the pot off the stove, his fingers spin in one quick circle and the flames die out with a whoosh.

so entranced by it, jungkook doesn’t notice the arrival of another guest until he hears jimin cry out, “ow, hoseok-hyung!”

“sorry, sorry,” laughs another voice. “i brought beer!”

“we’re not drinking today, hyung!” taehyung yells from the hallway, which, why is he there, exactly?

hoseok has a wide, bright smile; that’s the first thing that jungkook notices about him. not only does he seem to be in fairly good cheer, he’s also got a nice sense of things and manages to answer back seokjin’s retort of who exactly do you think you’re getting drunk here with a snappy response of his own. he ruffles jimin’s hair and when catching sight of jungkook, gasps.

“wow, hi,” hoseok starts, reaching out to poke jungkook’s cheek. he rubs the area, feeling pink rise up. “you look like a tiny squirrel, all cheeks.”

“hey,” jimin says half-heartedly.

“don’t worry, chim. you’re place as our resident mochi is still in place.”

“as it should be,” jimin nods, before turning to jungkook and staring at him with a critical eye. the sudden change in his demeanor makes jungkook a little wary, but jimin ends up snorting and reaching out to pinch him on the cheek as well. “you can be my protege.”

“i’m jung hoseok,” the other finally introduces himself. “call me hyung, okay! you’re jungkook, right?”

hoseok specializes in water, and he’s the easiest to talk to so far. it might be the way he speaks to jungkook, as if taking every word of his into account, or it might be the way he doesn’t seem to get jungkook’s mood down. everything about him is calming. when hoseok starts talking about how he’s been figuring out how to irrigate his collection of cacti (given to him by his noona, he rolls his eyes fondly) jungkook brightens up.

“how many do you have? what species are they?” he shuffles a little bit closer, holding onto his cup a bit tighter. “i have some balloon cacti and pincushion cacti in my apartment; one of them even started growing little yellow flowers! i tried having some other types of cacti but they were always asking for a lot of sunlight and didn’t share with the others, so i couldn’t bring them with me from home.” jungkook is fully aware that he’s rambling a little, but he can’t help it. the words feel like they’ve been stuck in his throat and have just found the exit. “if you want i can help you out! they usually tell me when they want water or not so i can ask them about their preferences.”

“the...cactuses,” hoseok blinks, bewildered.

“cacti,” jungkook corrects, before realizing everything that he’s spewed out. almost immediately, he feels himself turn red from the roots of his hair to his chin. “um.”

“oh, that’s cute,” hoseok is laughing rather than looking at him weirdly; it’s nice, because jungkook only expects that response from his very close friends. when he rambles on about stuff he likes - plants, video games, music, photography  - sometimes it can be very hard to get him to stop. “are you a greenie?”

“um, yes,” jungkook takes a sip of his cola so he doesn’t feel like throwing himself off a cliff. “the proper term is a ‘botanical practitioner.”

“a cute greenie,” hoseok says firmly, before breaking out in a smile. “so, you talk to plants?”

it doesn’t sound condescending or even the tiniest bit belittling. hoseok looks genuinely interested in what jungkook has to say about his own powers. jimin and taehyung have joined them, looking curious; their attention had been snagged from their own conversation at jungkook’s slightly louder than normal rant. seokjin is nowhere to be seen, so he’s probably doing something in the kitchen (eating, maybe?).

“well, it’s not like - talking, exactly,” he shuffles in his seat, taking another drink for his suddenly parched throat. “it’s like. they’re living, breathing things, even if they aren’t breathing in the human sense of the word. so they have...emotions, i guess you could say, not really thoughts, but like a general impression of their needs and wants.”

“amazing,” hoseok breathes, eyes widening. “i mean, it’s really something, you know? practitioners that can sense stuff like that, like the ones who talk to animals too. it’s really amazing.”

“take a shot for how many times hoseok-hyung said amazing in the same sentence,” taehyung jokes.

“shut up,” hoseok flicks taehyung playfully. “but seriously, that’s really cool. so you could tell me when my cactus - cacti want water? because i’ve been tinkering around, you know, trying to build a system to water them...god knows that i won’t remember to...”

“they don’t need a lot of water, usually,” jungkook smiles, pleased with hoseok’s praise. he’s always gotten a lot of awe from his parents and his family, but he’s since then toned down a lot of what he likes to talk about with his friends from back home. it’s let him find a lot of new hobbies and things he likes doing, like playing mobas with his school friends or doing track. it’s nice - it’s really nice - to hear this from someone who isn’t his mom. “i can, uh, come over and see what kind of cactus it is. and then tell you how often you need to water it, too, and other things.”

“that sounds great,” hoseok holds a hand to his chest. “really, you’re saving me a lot of beatings right now. i didn’t want any house plants in the first place, but my noona decided that i absolutely needed some, and - well, you don’t say no to her. i feel like if i kill them, she’s going to take it personally and kill me, haha.”

he and hoseok exchange numbers. jungkook opens up a kakaotalk chat to message hoseok something, looking through his stickers for something that would be perfect, when the doorbell rings again. everyone turns to stare at for a moment before jimin shoots up, going, “oh, must be namjoon hyung and yoongi hyung!”

“oh boy,” seokjin laughs, “we’re not going to see jimin for the rest of the day, huh?”

“what?”

“namjoon is a storm type,” taehyung explains. “he and jimin get along like peanut butter and jelly.” this is followed by a couple of air guns, shooting their way at jungkook. strangely enough, when jungkook turns back to his phone for a second, he spots the smile from taehyung’s face disappearing.

“me and namjoon get along well, too,” hoseok adds; a ping from his phone tells jungkook that he’s sent a sticker first; it’s of a bunny waving a carrot in hello. hoseok adds afterward: that’s you, ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

frowning, jungkook texts back, i don’t look like a bunny?

“wow, only a couple of minutes and you’re already texting each other while sitting less than a meter away,” seokjin muses.

“who is?” a tall, slightly tanned guy says; he walks in first, in casual overalls and bright yellow socks, with a long sleeve underneath and a baseball cap on his head. the entire outfit is weird, but he pulls it off without a hitch. jimin appears from behind him, smiling. “oh, hi?”

“hyung, this is jeon jungkook, the new tenant in the apartment directly across from mine,” he motions to jungkook, who offers a brief finger wave. “jungkook, this is kim namjoon - he lives above us. over there is yoongi hyung.”

yoongi, his new neighbor, the guy that jungkook is pretty sure hates him. jungkook has a bad habit of remembering all the bad and embarrassing things that have ever happened to him while he’s laying in bed at 1am, and that moment, no doubt, is another addition to the list. he shouldn’t have asked at all, or just walked to a nearby convenience store when he saw his neighbor cursing at his door. those dark eyes staring at him in all of its intensity and irritation still sends shivers up his spine.

“um, hello,” jungkook mumbles, before instinctually shuffling closer to hoseok, something the elder doesn’t miss.

namjoon laughs his hello, but min yoongi stares at jungkook with an odd look on his face. oh god, he hates me, jungkook thinks in slight panic. did some of the buttercups fall on his side or something? what did jungkook do? maybe yoongi is just the type of person that doesn’t really like...green witches? maybe? jungkook presses his lips to the edge of his cup; there are always people like that, who are prejudiced against some supernatural creatures while accepting others. a lot of them chalk it up to their magical signatures being different, but since then, magical science has proved that your signature does jack shit for who are or are not compatible with. just a problem of human nature, jungkook guesses, and oh god why is min yoongi still staring at him?

jimin pushes yoongi’s shoulder, slightly, who’s dressed in dark jeans, a white shirt and a leather jacket. “um,” he starts, “nice to meet you.”

“once we get some food in him he’ll be chattier,” seokjin says dryly. “come on, yoongi, we’re ordering chicken. do you want your usual?”

“yeah.”

“jungkookie,” the eldest than turns to him, “what flavor do you want?”

“oh, i,” startled, jungkook sets his cup down on the nearest counter and fiddles with his fingers. “i’ll just have the original and share with someone, it’s not a big deal.”

seokjin looks like he wants to say something, but then looks at him consideringly. “i’ll order you two boxes,” he says decisively. “we all eat one on our own, anyways, although i think hoseok and namjoon are opting out today because they had chicken yesterday - “

“that’s right!” namjoon gives a thumbs up.

“so don’t worry about these hyungs, alright?”

“oh, are you younger than most of us?” namjoon asks, sitting a couple ways away. he sinks into a bean bag chair jimin has in the corner of the room, a mismatch from the rest of his furniture.

“i’m a first year,” jungkook admits. “next week is when i start uni for the first time.”

“oh,” namjoon’s voice is a bit weird, jungkook thinks. why’d he take on that tone? he forgets all about it when yoongi sits on hoseok’s other side, and therefore as close to jungkook. hoseok’s gotten up to get them more drinks, so there’s only an arm’s worth of space in between them. jungkook can taste the awkward air around him, mentally asking someone to save him. namjoon’s eyes shift between him and yoongi. “what classes are you taking?”

jungkook lists off his schedule again; as he’s doing so, taehyung comes over and gives him a reassuring smile; he slings an arm around jungkook’s shoulders, which calms him down somewhat.

“oh, hey, me and  yoongi-hyung have magical theory too. wow, you’re a smart little cookie, huh?”

“no, no, i just,” jungkook rubs at his flushed cheek. “i’ve just been studying that a lot since i was a kid, my mom taught me that mostly, so i took the placement exam and that’s what i was recommended to take, so i did.”

“well, if you ever need help, just let this hyung know, okay?” namjoon’s smile shows a small dimple. “even if it’s just to have a study buddy or anything. you too, right, yoongi hyung?”

the warm feeling in jungkook immediately dissipates. yoongi pauses and says, “yeah, of course,” but jungkook isn’t paying attention to his words. he’s distracted with the way yoongi sounds when he’s not angry, which is just as low and rough, like he hasn’t had experience talking to people for a while, or like he’s just woken up from sleep.

“jungkook, let’s go get snacks,” taehyung says suddenly, tugging at jungkook’s sleeve insistently. “i heard that namjoon hyung brought cake pops.”

“i did,” namjoon admits, and jungkook allows himself to get led away.

they head to the kitchen, where most of the food is. taehyung genuinely grabs a plate and starts piling it up with food, but jungkook feels too queasy to his stomach to eat anything. nerves are settling inside of him and refused to leave. jungkook fiddles with his blue cup and traces the rim of it.

“i guess you and yoongi-hyung met before this, right?” taehyung guesses, putting the plate piled high with food in jungkook’s hands. “i could sense it from you. felt like you were about to have a breakdown.”

“sorry,” jungkook swallows thickly. “i just...i’m pretty sure he hates me, so i just...i got caught up in it.”

“hates you?” taehyung presses his lips together, confused. “i mean, i know yoongi hyung can look really intimidating sometimes, but he’s not really one to like...hate people. and you’ve only been neighbors for a couple of days!”

but jungkook can be annoying. he’s heard it before, from errant students back home and his friends who didn’t want to hear endlessly about the harvest season or about using cotton to make won bills now, who couldn’t stand it when he’d talk about planting roses at the height of the season and hearing them whisper their secrets in jungkook’s ear. he knows he can be annoying. he’s spent nearly all of high school trying to fix that part of himself.

“still,” he mutters in the end, giving the plate back to taehyung. “i’m not really hungry.”

“hey, hey,” holding onto his wrist, taehyung gives him a stern look. “at least try to eat something more. i know you can put down a lot, jeon jungkook,” he waggles a finger at him. “remember our pizza night? you’re only going to feel sick later, trust me.”

“did you see that happen?”

“call it common sense rather than vision,” taehyung says. “they’re still waiting for the chicken, so we can just stay back here if you want. it’s no big deal, really. the most that everyone else is going to do is watch a couple of movies and maybe play cards and then go home. you can go before that, you know? say you’re not feeling well.”

“okay,” jungkook calms down a little at taehyung’s detailed plans. with all these set amount of options, it feels less like he’s trying to avoid min yoongi and more like he’s making a shy getaway, which he probably would have done anyways.

they mill around in jimin’s kitchen, eating cake pops and nachos (at taehyung’s insistence) as the night sky begins to get darker and darker. jimin’s kitchen has virtually the same layout as his own, but there’s a lot more clutter - a sign of a lived in home. pots and pans are placed for easy reach on a marble counter, there are neatly arranged packets of instant food, coffee, tea, and other dry snacks in the cupboards (he only knows because taehyung wanted shrimp chips and stole from jimin’s stash). numerous magnets and drawings are stuck to the fridge, most of them about shinbi university; there are some pictures of people he doesn’t recognize but bear some resemblance to jimin, so that’s probably jimin’s family. polaroids with him and taehyung line in a neat row near the bottom of the freezer. other pictures with the rest - seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, even yoongi - are scattered in between schedules and grocery lists.

jungkook drags his toe against the line of tile, cool underneath his socked feet. taehyung is chattering away at something, sometimes stopping in the middle; his words trail off, he stares into the distance with milky eyes. blind. the first time it happens, it only lasts half of a minute - enough time for jungkook to frantically ask what’s why, hyung, what’s wrong? - before taehyung snaps back into it and explains that he gets visions like these sometimes, so strong that they just take him aback.

“what are they like?” jungkook asks, genuinely curious. “having visions?”

his fingers play with the rings on his right hand, especially one with a large white stone in the middle of it. while his other rings are thin and simple, this one on his ring finger is large and antique. “hmm, sort of like - seeing two things at once. say, for example, i’m here talking to you - my vision will take place and suddenly i’m on a beach, staring out at the sunset, on the edge of - “ he cuts himself off abruptly. “well, it can get hard to tell them apart.”

horrified, jungkook whispers, “but then how do you know which vision is...real?”

“well, that’s one of the things i’ve just had to learn in my classes,” taehyung smiles. “i used to be worse in high school. could never get my head on straight; everything felt like a huge dream, and i couldn’t tell the future from the present. i don’t see the past, which is a blessing. some of us do, and it’s not pretty.”

“it’s not?”

“you can’t change stuff that’s already happened,” taehyung says quietly. “those things never leave you. but the future? even the tiniest change can cause a ripple. my visions change all the time; they’re not set in stone.”

jungkook frowns. “but then...you’re always saying i see everything - does that mean you’re not even sure a certain vision comes to pass?” taehyung smiles sheepishly. “hyung!”

“but i do see everything! there’s a one in a million chance if stuff goes a certain way that vision can end up happening! technically i’m not lying that way, jungkook!”

rolling his eyes, jungkook starts nibbling a bit on the snacks that taehyung’s brought him, unaware of the way taehyung smiles when jungkook can’t see. jimin bounds over to steal some off of jungkook’s plate, seokjin follows after, hoseok yells something about a group hug, and namjoon brings out his camera to show them something he’s just remembered. underneath everyone’s warm feelings, jungkook is happy.

/

the first day of university is decidedly not making him happy.

he’s a nervous wreck the entire time he gets ready, fumbling for his books that are stashed away somewhere in his new apartment. his wisteria give him companionable brushes across the top of his head, a comfort, but jungkook is jittery with nerves all over. he pulls at the sleeves of his shirt and double checks for everything in his bag, from his notebooks to his laptop to all the new stationary he’s bought for himself. jungkook gets on an early bus to school and spends the entire time fiddling with his cuffs.

he doesn’t get to see a lot of the campus, which is the worst part. jungkook hadn’t been expecting the level of traffic it took to actually get to school, even while close by. maybe that’s why he hasn’t seen anyone else leaving their apartments - they all went early. jungkook is walking as fast as his legs can go, drawing in large strides as he heads across campus. it’s beautiful, a wash of color and bright light; shinbi university is what he expected it to be and more. it’s a shame that he doesn’t have time to just breathe it all in.

jungkook instead heads to the building he’s sure is the one that holds his class, sweat pooling at his temple. he asks the security guard for directions to his room and heads there with quick steps, planning to take a long swig of his water once he’s properly sitting down somewhere. the gods could let him catch a break right around now, really.

he finds the large classroom - a medium sized lecture hall, really - and heads inside. a moment of blind, sheer panic rises in him as he realizes that he has nowhere to sit, but after a moment of looking, he can recognize namjoon’s side profile. jungkook lets out a breath and heads down to sit next to him mildly, turning this way and that to make sure no one is staring at him. everyone seems busy with their own devices, but that niggling fear rests at the back of his mind.

“oh, jungkook!” namjoon spots him as he’s heading toward the front, where namjoon is sitting. “you’re just on time!”

“i thought i would be late,” jungkook says breathlessly as he stands next to namjoon. he’s sitting in an aisle seat, so jungkook slides into the seat next to him with a slightly pink face (from exertion) and all of his stuff. he leaves it by his feet, taking social cues from namjoon, and sets out his notebook and a couple of pencils.

“i heard this professor speaks really fast,” namjoon sighs, rubbing at his half lidded eyes. unlike jungkook, namjoon looks like he’s just rolled out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants to come to class. in fact, a lot of people look like they’ve done the same thing. jungkook thinks he’s the only one in the row that’s wearing jeans. “it might be better to type notes.”

“i dunno if i’ll be able to focus,” jungkook admits. he’s too used to writing down all of his notes, years of his upbringing teaching him that it’s always better to do things by hand. in theory, that’s still correct, but a lot of practitioners just want to get stuff over with, too. especially two hour 9am lectures just on theory.

namjoon offers him some candy, unwrapping a piece of chocolate for himself when jungkook takes it from his hand with wide eyes. “sugar is good for waking you up a little,” he says. “i’ve tried bringing coffee everyday before class, but at some point, it just stops working.”

“oh,” jungkook doesn’t think he’ll need the candy - he feels wide awake, nearly jittery in his seat.

namjoon smiles at this, going, “well, uh, keep it for later?”

jungkook puts the piece of candy in his pocket, hoping that it won’t be squished later. there’s about five minutes left before class starts. the professor, a middle aged woman in a long skirt and a white peasant shirt, heads to the podium at the front of the class to set up her stuff. jungkook is watching her flicker the powerpoint on when a shuffle of noise catches his attention.

next to him, a black blur shuffles into the seat, letting out a gust of air. jungkook freezes as soon as namjoon says, “oh, hyung, you’re already toeing the line on the first day of class?”

“woke up late,” min yoongi says from beside him, groaning. he pulls out a sleek silver laptop and sets it up, glancing at jungkook next to him, who is - jungkook turns back to his book, uncomfortable. he taps his feet incessantly, knee bouncing up and down. this doesn’t look good for his first day of class.

“i was saving you a seat, but i’m glad jungkookie here got to it first,” namjoon grins. “maybe it’ll teach you not to take other people’s kindness for granted, hyung.”

“shut up, it’s just a seat,” yoongi snarks back, but a smile stretches across his pale mouth. jungkook can see his hands in his peripheral vision. with a jolt, he realizes that he can see dark lines sweeping across yoongi’s wrist as his sleeve pulls up a little at the movement.

“morning, everyone!” the professor says brightly, and jungkook resolves to focus only on his own work.

/

the rest of the week flies by fast. he gets invited to hoseok’s apartment for a dinner with the rest of them - jimin, taehyung, seokjin, namjoon and yoongi - and jungkook figures that they must have some long standing tradition where they change where to hang out every week or something. namjoon is the one that confirms it. jungkook likes hoseok’s room - it’s wide open and comfortable, with a soothing blue theme. there’s a lot of white splashed in between, ike the crown molding of the walls and the throw pillows, that give the entire place a light and airy feeling.

hoseok himself is dressed up in a pair of ripped jeans and a graphic t-shirt, a bomber jacket hanging over the edge of one of his chairs. they’re watching some variety show and betting on who will win; taehyung is holding the bets and keeping track because he’s apparently not allowed to make bets anymore (since he always won them). jungkook still doesn’t understand taehyung’s proficiency in its entirety, but he does know that it has the capability of being terrifying.

one really cool thing about hoseok’s apartment is his ceiling. he’s got his own interconnected system of clear glass tubes zipping all the walls, curving in seemingly impossible shapes. jungkook is sure that it goes all the way to his bedroom or even rooms beyond that, as they disappear in the hallway where none of them have gone. little color fish swim by in the tubes. some of them stay at the edge of the glass and nip at it, but most of them just prefer to swim around. at the end of the day, hoseok had told them, the glass switches color so it creates fun patterns on his floor.

jungkook moves to the edge of the room with a plate of crackers and some kind of cheesy dip, keeping it to the side. he taps at the glass and just watches as the fish there pause to look at his finger, nipping it while he’s trying to stay still. it’s not that he doesn’t want to talk, but jungkook feels exhausted from his entire week. it’s only been a couple of days, but his head spins from the amount of work he has to do. he’s going to end up going home and having to finish all of that.

his eyelids already feel a little heavy, looking at the calming motion of fish flipping back and forth. while he’s looking for a place to sit, he notices a window where hoseok has kept his cacti. he takes his plate and heads over, glad that hoseok’s window includes space to sit and rest against the pillows. he likes to look out at the street, jungkook supposes.

eating the crackers quietly and making sure that he doesn’t get any dip on himself, jungkook leans forward and pricks his finger on the edge of the cactus purposefully. it’s not enough to break skin, but enough to say hello. they’re usually so ticklish, and when people touch them, they get a little bit stiffer in surprise. jungkook runs his fingers down one edge of the plant and it relaxes. patting the soil of the plant a little fondly, jungkook wishes he could have some water to wash his hands so he can finish up his snack. moving is too much of an effort, though, and the little cactus looks happy to be with him - the other cacti are still warming up - so jungkook sits still and blinks lazily at it.

“can you actually talk to them?”

the low voice interrupts jungkook’s spacing out. when he does this he doesn’t really focus on anything - more so like he just...lets himself go and dive deep into the feelings that he gets for nature around him. the vibrations underneath his seat, the way the cacti hum, the way the sun feels on his cheek. yoongi is sitting at the edge of the window; when jungkook looks up, he can meet the other’s eyes. he’s wearing black and gray again, head to toe, but he doesn’t look...angry? or upset? there’s a neutral, blank expression on his face.

“um,” jungkook’s throat feels dry. all he can remember is the quick anxiety and buttercups falling. “i mean. it’s not talking like in - like our sense?”

“hm,” yoongi’s expression doesn’t change. his hair, dark and thin, hang in his eyes. “so, it’s a language but it’s not a language that other people can understand?”

“sort of,” jungkook admits. he reaches out to prick his finger on top of the cactus again. “it’s like a feeling. i can understand what they’re trying to tell me, even if it’s not in words.” jungkook winces a little as it breaks skin this time, pulling his finger back in a knee-jerk reaction before relaxing and keeping it there.

“you’re bleeding,” yoongi says, alarmed, and when jungkook manages to look away from the red bead of blood on his fingertip, he’s standing up with a frown on his face.

“don’t worry about it,” jungkook clears his throat and settles his chin on his knees. he shakes his pointer finger a little so that the drop of blood stains the side of the green cactus. jungkook mumbles a couple of words and feels the magic swell in him; the ruby drop dissolves into the plant, like it was never there in the first place.

“what...?”

the cactus grows in size, getting larger and larger until it is nearly at jungkook’s eye level. pink flowers bloom on it’s edges, and it’s sharp thorns grow thicker and steadier. jungkook pulls back and plops his finger straight in his mouth. metal coats his upper palate.

“hey,” yoongi starts, reaching out to pull jungkook’s wrist away from his mouth. “don’t do that, it could get infected.”

yoongi’s fingers are cold over his wrist, a chill that shocks jungkook out of his slight daze. yoongi notices what he’s doing and pulls away stiltedly, like he’s lagging. jungkook’s finger has stopped bleeding. there had been a moment of something on yoongi’s face - panic? worry? - that made the lines of his mouth become softer, not as harsh. now that he’s back a couple of steps away, jungkook can see that whatever worry had been there before is now completely gone.

“um, i’m fine,” he says, a little bewildered.

“whoa, jungkookie! did you do that?”

hoseok’s loud exclamation brings everyone over to the little window. jungkook stands up a little wobbly, his legs having fallen asleep during the full - hour, goodness, a whole hour? - that he’s been sitting there doing nothing. hoseok reaches out to touch his new houseplant and moves away with a little ouch!

“it doesn’t need a lot of water now, hyung,” jungkook tells him. “it can store a lot more than before. you don’t have to worry about forgetting to water it.”

“oh, thank you,” hoseok blinks, while seokjin tries to reach out and touch it too. namjoon makes a fuss over the prickles and jimin is challenging taehyung to an arm wrestling contest while everyone else is busy. as hoseok and seokjin start to converse with each other about the plant, jungkook moves away so that he can sit at the edge of the sofa, sinking into it’s comfortable warmth. his wrist still tingles from yoongi’s grasp; and when jungkook looks over, he sees that his neighbor is staring intensely at a gray spot on the small table in the corner, his brow furrowed.

maybe he’s not as frightening as he might originally seem, jungkook thinks. he’s been avoiding yoongi because something about his voice is easy to be scared of - dark and rumbling, like thunder, like an always snarling, backed up animal. but jungkook thinks that he might have overreacted and let his anxiety take over a little.

yoongi just seems quiet. well meaning and quiet.

now jungkook feels kind of guilty. his eyes shift over to yoongi, wondering if he can somehow go over there and talk to the somewhat intimidating elder, but in the end, he sticks to where he is and allows himself to sink further into the seat.

the sound of everyone speaking lulls him a bit. he’s had a rough week, doing so many things and having to take care of  his new life as a college student. he wanted to get started on a lot of his work - mostly because he’s interested, and also because he really wants to be able to make a good impression and stop procrastinating - but the longer he sticks around hoseok’s house, the more lethargic he feels.

jimin laughs, sharp and bright, and he hears someone say something else in response to him - a cutting remark from a voice jungkook has come to associate with yoongi, and then absolute quiet as his consciousness fades away.

/

when he wakes up again, there’s sunlight filtering in from his left; the smell of oranges and something spicier fills jungkook’s nostrils. he’s warm and comfortable, and so he snuggles up further into the sheets and blankets with a groan.

wait.

his sheets don’t smell like oranges.

jungkook’s eyes snap open immediately; the first thing that registers is the fact that he’s in a room painted a sage green, with dark wood furniture. there’s a window on his left but in his bedroom, his window is on his right, and there’s a desk and a chair that’s neater than his would ever be. on top of it is a jersey that reads out MIN, 93.

jungkook looks around in pure confusion for a moment.

this is. this is most definitely not his room. he looks down to see that he’s in one of his big comfy shirts and a pair of boxers, which are - yes, his, judging by the iron man pattern - but nothing else is his. his phone isn’t here, there are no plants decorating the walls, his poster of g-dragon that he left rolled up by the wall to put up later is gone.

jungkook swears and throws the coverlets over him - green, white and black, modern and tasteful - when one of the two doors at the end of the bed opens. he’d assumed one of them was an exit, while the other was a closet or someting, but -

yoongi walks out in only a towel wrapped around his hips and another drying out his hair. jungkook freezes, suddenly struck with the fight or flight urge of a woodland creature, still gripping onto the bed sheets. eyes widening, he takes in the dark ink that runs up yoongi’s arms all the way to his collarbone, forming a dark picture running down to his chest and sternum -

“holy fuck,” he says, and jungkook - with nothing else to do except follow every last instinct - burrows himself underneath the covers. he’s a lump, now. no one can touch him.

distantly, he makes a mental note to himself that this scent that he enjoys so much is actually yoongi’s scent.

“what the fuck is going on here?” at least yoongi doesn’t sound mad, jungkook thinks. he just sounds confused. “what are you doing in my room? in my bed?”

“i don’t know,” jungkook chokes out, somehow managing to find his voice. “i swear i don’t know. the last thing i remember is falling asleep on hoseok-hyung’s couch...” his head is spinning between last night and this morning. all he wants to do is bury himself and die, thanks.

“jimin and taehyung helped you get home to your apartment,” he hears yoongi say. there’s a lot of shuffling and then, “you can get out of there now, kid.”

“no thanks.”

the silence that follows jungkook’s quick answer makes his cheeks burn.

“those are technically mine, you know.”

jungkook knows. he wishes he can somehow teleport himself to the other room. slowly taking off his blanket heap, he holds it close to his chin so that he feels some semblance of protection. it’s not like yoongi is scary (lielielie) or that jungkook is scared (lielielie) he just. needs some space.

at least yoongi is wearing a shirt, now. it’s a low scooping collar with short sleeves, so jungkook can see all the intricacies of his tattoos. he hates that he’s interested (he’s always been interested in tattoos, but opted not to get them himself in the end). (also because his mom would kill him.)

“okay, so,” yoongi starts, raising an eyebrow, “thirty minutes ago, i just got out of bed and you were definitely not there. so somehow you managed to..phase through the fucking wall?”

“i don’t know,” jungkook groans. “i was unconscious. please let me be unconscious again.”

just then, their entire room shakes. jungkook straightens a little, thinking that it’s an earthquake, because of course today can’t get any worse, when realization flashes through yoongi’s face and he swears. he kicks the side of the wall with his bare foot, and the door to his bedroom entrance opens. his windows rattle threateningly.

“fucking building,” yoongi mutters. “it probably plopped you in here.”

“what? the - the building can do that?”

“it’s made of magic,” yoongi explains, looking done with everything. he rubs his forehead. “it does whatever the hell it wants to, really. i guess it decided to mess around with you. don’t take it to heart, kid, it just means that it likes you.”

“oh,” jungkook says dumbly. and then, “i need to go.”

somehow he manages to run out of yoongi’s apartment without actually seeing anything, like the way his interior is decorated in shades of gray, white, and hues of other colors to seem like some sort of monochrome painting palette (which jungkook would have thought of as really cool, if he had seen it) or the way that he has a figurine collection stacked on a shelf in the living room. or how there’s a tiny buttercup plant in a little black pot. jungkook doesn’t see any of it - he just shuffles right out of yoongi’s apartment and closes the door behind him to enter his own, heart beating a million miles a second.

/

when he’s telling jimin and taehyung of the awful thing that’s happened, because his life sometimes feels like a joke and jungkook gets weirdly talktative between the hours of nine pm and eleven pm, they both laugh at him over their glasses of ice water with a squeeze of lemon and diet coke respectively. they’ve made it back to the pizza place they had once gone to before, this time ordering individual slices.

“wow, that’s...not awkward at all,” jimin snickers. “don’t worry about it, jungkook. yoongi-hyung is cool, despite how he looks. really.”

“that’s not what you were telling me earlier,” jungkook mumbles petulantly.

“what, no! i totally was.”

“was not,” taehyung says cheerfully, fixing up a paper napkin in the shape of an origami lotus. he places it in front of jungkook and pats his hand. “don’t worry about it, jungkookie. it’ll all work out.”

/

jungkook heads to his magical theory class the next day a bit confused and lost. he doesn’t see namjoon anywhere, his phone is out of battery, and he’s pretty sure he’s left his lunch at home - which means that he’s going to have to buy some overpriced meal. jungkook sits in the front where he, namjoon, and yoongi usually sit, his skin prickling. focusing on the professor isn’t easy, but when she starts the lecture and namjoon still doesn’t show any sign of attending, jungkook has to force himself to do so.

yoongi drops into the seat next to him a couple minutes later. the line of him is strangely warm and jungkook is so, so aware of it. he wants to squirm but only spares a glance in yoongi’s direction while he’s unpacking his things before turning back to the professor.

he twirls his pen incessantly over the course of the lecture. it’s a bit harder to understand things without namjoon there to explain some of the harder abstract concepts to him, but jungkook manages to get the hang of it. when she finishes and starts packing up, he gathers all of his confidence and turns to yoongi. “um...where is namjoon hyung today? is he sick?”

“he’s skipping classes today to go to see one of his favorite writers that’s in town,” yoongi tells him. “he sent you a text message, i think.”

“oh,” jungkook slowly shuffles in all of his things into his bag. “i see. my phone died, so...”

yoongi doesn’t respond, and jungkook wants to jump into a hole to get rid of his own awkwardness. he thinks about going into a small corner and looking up all the good places to eat nearby - or maybe he can just. take liberties on the “good” part. he’ll settle for cheap. jungkook needs to plug in his phone, though.

“hey, kid,” yoongi grabs his attention quickly, voice soaring over the dim noise. of the class leaving. “are you doing anything today? your next class is later on, right?”

“um, yeah?”

“i’ll treat you to lunch,” yoongi says, and suddenly, he’s jungkook’s new favorite person and all together not that bad. how did he ever think yoongi was scary? but then he looks at yoongi’s dark eyes and a strange shiver runs down his spine again. “where do you want to go?”

“oh, i, um,” jungkook flails around for a moment verbally, still not sure where everything on campus is.

yoongi clears his throat and takes it back. “never mind, i’ll show you a good place. do you like spicy food?”

“i do,” jungkook follows after him with all of his things packed. “do they have outlets?”

the place turns out to be a tiny chinese fusion restaurant. jungkook enjoys the smell of allspice and soy sauce. it’s a nice, clean little hole in the wall sort of place. the walls are covered in red and gold wallpaper, filled to the brim with old-looking wanted posters that - that move? what?

“it’s magic,” yoongi cuts in, hitching a thumb at the single waitress who is tending to everyone’s needs; two notepads fly behind her. the golden chandelier above them rattles whenever there’s a loud, booming laughter coming from the kitchen.

“do you like lamb skewers?” yoongi asks, while jungkook is still staring wide eyed at a couple of people playing air hockey with a couple of napkin dispensers. the waitress eems to know them well, because she smacks the both of them over the head with one of her notepads. jungkook can’t help but let out an aborted giggle. he nods at yoongi, who only snorts. there’s a little smile, if jungkook isn’t wrong, pulling the corner of his mouth up into a smile.

jungkook’s never seen him smile.

yoongi’s tattoos are peeking out from underneath his sleeves, which are appropriately sized today. they go down to the middle of his forearm. a silver watch gleams from his wrist, beyond the scoop neck, jungkook spies a list of characters in hanja.

“i’ve had them for a long time,” yoongi says, startling jungkook out of his inspection. he doesn’t look too bothered about jungkook creeping on his tattoos, though. “some of them are from my old teacher. the one who used to teach me in high school, before i applied to shinbi.”

“my mom taught me,” jungkook admits. “she gave me her spellbook.”

“that sounds nice,” yoongi eyes the dish being given to them before thanking their server, who is already gone before hearing the tail end of his gratitude. “we don’t get a lot of stuff like that.”

“we?”

“necromancers.”

hearing the word makes jungkook jump. “that term is outdated!”

yoongi’s mouth pulls up in another smile. “i mean, if i am one, i can talk about it all i want, right?”

“i - i guess...” jungkook doesn’t particularly like it when he’s called a greenie, but he doesn’t mind using that term for himself. maybe it’s the same principle? “i wouldn’t have known you were a - a - “

“you can just say necromancer, you know,” the elder says wryly. “i don’t understand all the political correctness, but that’s fine by me. words are what you make of them. what did you think i might have been?”

honestly, jungkook has no clue. he shrugs his shoulders and reaches out for a skewery, tenderly picking one off to chew on it slowly.

yoongi shuffles around in his seat before clearing his throat and placing his elbows on the table. he leans in a little bit, which makes the dingy lighting of the restaurant highlight the shadows underneath his eyes, which don’t detract a lot from how - well, how - handsome? not handsome, but. almost compelling, he is.

“i think we got off on the wrong foot,” he admits, while jungkook has half a lamb skewer in his mouth. the meat is spicy and full of flavor. he blinks at yoongi. “about the, um. the door, thing.”

jungkook swallows. “oh.”

“i didn’t mean to do it,” he blurts out, and there’s an edge of something nervous in his voice. “i mean. i was just mad that day because my door wouldn’t open no matter what i did and i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. you really didn’t deserve it, and - i figured out why it didn’t open, anyways.”

“um,” jungkook says.

“stupid fucking building,” yoongi repeats, and it’s so reminiscent of what he had said earlier that jungkook can’t help but laugh a little. yoongi leans back and shoves a wrap in his mouth. the tips of his ears are red, but jungkook only sees a hint of them before he shoves his beanie over them.

“it’s okay,” jungkook hands him a plate of dipping sauce. “i think i was being too much too. thanks for bringing me here!”

“call me hyung,” yoongi coughs, and jungkook nods. “and, uh, don’t worry about that thing that happened before. with uh. showing up in my room. like i said - sometimes the building does that kind of shit.”

“okay,” jungkook agrees. “can you buy another platter, hyung?”

yoongi rolls his eyes but does so anyway. it feels like a new friendship.

Chapter Text

yoongi takes him back to the building after jungkook gapes at how little the bill was (no wonder yoongi agreed to buy another platter) and he goes through the rest of his class in a little daze. it’s his potionagics class, and he really wants to try doing some of the stuff they do in class if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s probably not allowed to do that kind of stuff outside of their lab. jungkook winces thinking about how many glass bottles one of the kids had dropped in lab today. that’s going to cost a pretty penny.

he goes home to his apartment and peeks over at the side of the door. yoongi’s has changed now; it’s a solid, steel gray, with white music beats all of it. it’s kind of cute. in the light of their new friendship, jungkook plucks off one of the buttercups growing around his door and situates it on one of the music notes of yoongi’s door, a spot of color for him to notice. he might kick it off, but oh well.

he calls his mom after he gets inside and changes clothes. she picks up on the third ring, which means that she saw him calling and decided to simply wait instead of actually picking up on the first ring. his mom has a weird thing with threes.

“you finally remembered me!” is what she says as soon as he picks up. “how are you, baby?”

“i’m okay,” jungkook admits, squeezing his phone in between his shoulder and his ear to use both of his hands. “i’m making dinner, mom.”

“oh, have fun! what are you making?”

“i’m going to make grilled fish today and - “ cut in with a yawn, “ - vegetables and rice. can you remind me how to make kimchi again? i always forget the steps.”

“after all the times i’ve made it in front of you?”

“mom,” jungkook half whines, half groans. “please just tell me.”

she starts reading off the directions to make her kimchi (specifically her kimchi, with the exact same amount of spices and steps and time to ferment) while jungkook makes himself dinner. the smell is good enough to make his stomach rumble.

“did you meet anyone at school yet? new friends? anyone catch your eye? how do you like school?”

“i made friends at my apartment building,” jungkook admits, flipping the fish over and wishing he could have nice things like a built in fish grill. he’s seen it in japanese stoves. he likes white fish a lot. “they’re really nice, even if they’re older than me.” he also resolutely ignores the question about having someone he’s interested in.

“i noticed that you didn’t answer my question.”

“classes are going good too,” jungkook continues, unfazed. “i think i really like my botanical sciences classes the best, even if it looks really hard. i’m probably going to have to study the most for that class...so i won’t get to call you all the time, mom.”

his mom laughs. “that’s okay, baby. just text me once in a while! i’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun. make sure to talk to everyone you meet, even if you don’t think you’ll be friends with them. sometimes a smile can light up anyone’s day, you know!”

jungkook sits down at his tiny table in the kitchen and pulls out his chopsticks. even though he’s sure his mom can’t see him, he smiles. “okay. thanks, mom.”

“and you know, if you smile nice enough, you can get a boyfriend - “

“goodbye, mom.”

“love you, baby!”

jungkook turns off his phone as soon as his mom hangs up. he texts her a picture of his food, saying that i’m not too useless! and his mom sends back a funny looking sticker. while his food is cooling down a little, jungkook laughs and texts her back. he’s assaulted by a bunch of pings as his mom sends him at least five videos, all of them having to do with his older brother and their dog -

his door unlocks; jungkook looks up to see yoongi standing at his doorway. jungkook can see from the edge of his vision, lit up by the hallway, that his door isn’t the same buttercup covered one that he had earlier - no, it’s the gray and white door yoongi has, which makes absolutely no sense, because jungkook is pretty sure this time around that this is his apartment.

“um,” yoongi goes, and then the door slams itself shut behind him. it hits him on the ass, too, and yoongi says a swear word that makes jungkook glad he hung up on his mom when he did.

“uh,” the other starts, clearing his throat and tugging on his coat even further so it bunches on his shoulders, “yeah, so.”

“it’s the fucking building?” jungkook guesses, and feels a little rush of warm run through his veins when yoongi’s mouth curls up in a smile. “i could try getting that open for you?” jungkook wipes down his hands on a kitchen towel and heads over to the door. he has to brush aside some of the low hanging plants that like to affectionately greet him so they don’t get in his vision. he turns his knob and - nothing.

jungkook stares. “uh.”

“what?” yoongi leans in a little close, still in his boots so he can’t really move to the main area of the living room without dirtying up the place and losing his manners.

“i’m? locked in here?”

“what.”

jungkook rattles the door again, trying to flip the lock each way - even though to get in, you need they keycard - and there’s just. nothing. the door doesn’t even budge.

“let me try,” yoongi mutters, reaching out to turn the doorknob. he also gets no luck, but his way of dealing with it is to go harder and harder until it’s no use. jungkook almost feels sorry for his door. “shit, fuck. i need to go back and finish up my work and then sleep, dammit. hey, let me go back,” he yells to the wall, which would be pretty funny if jungkook wasn’t panicking a little at the moment too.

“am i going to be locked here too?” he has to get up tomorrow to get to school. he can’t miss his morning class; if he doesn’t go to magical theory, he’s literally screwed.

yoongi opens his mouth to say something - maybe yell more at the building, which jungkook feels on a spiritual level on this point - when the sound of his stomach growling literally rips across the room. jungkook freezes. yoongi freezes.

“...i haven’t eaten since lunch,” the elder says with about as much dignity as he can manage.

jungkook looks at the locked door, and then at yoongi, whom he’s sure he has a class with tomorrow morning. he looks toward his sofa and then at the ceiling, biting his bottom lip. the plants don’t tell him anything, so he supposes that it’s okay.

“do you want to have dinner?” he asks, playing with his fingers. “i made enough for leftovers tomorrow but. you can have some if you buy me lunch again instead.”

yoongi’s about to deny it, but then he seems to rethink it. “yeah, okay,” he says, defeated. “i owe you one, kid.”

“that’s what buying me lunch is for, hyung.”

jungkook spoons him a bowl of rice, loads it with vegetables and kimchi he had somewhat tried to make a week before (it tasted okay) and the other piece of fish had been saving for tomorrow. yoongi takes off his jacket and neatly leans it on the side of the chair, along with his bag. his socks are blue and white. they’re the only spot of color on him, again.

“your place is nice,” yoongi comments, looking around at all the plants jungkook has. “it reminds me of a garden.”

jungkook tries to find his other pair of chopsticks. “i tried making it seem like that. i really liked this hanging garden that’s found in japan, so i wanted to try and mimic it.” there it is - a little rusty, but still good. he decides that he’ll use the rusty chopsticks and give yoongi the good ones. when he turns around to go back to the table, yoongi is standing nearly a meter away from the nearest plant, a vine of moonflowers.

“you can touch them, you know?” jungkook switches the chopsticks. “they won’t bite you.”

“i might hurt them,” yoongi says quietly, and keeps his hands in his pockets. “i have a tendency to kill things that i don’t want to.”

there’s something very heavy in his tone. jungkook doesn’t know how to decipher it, but it twists something inside of his chest into a painful knot. he’s heard that tone many times before; heard it in his own head, in the mirror, in his subconscious late at night. he wipes his palms on the knees of his sweatpants before heading over to the hanging pot of moonflowers, reaching up to pluck one of the opening buds. wordlessly, he holds it out to yoongi.

the other takes it in between his fingers; his hands are clear of ink, unlike his arms. jungkook spies many different things tattooed from his wrist to his elbow, like a beating heart signal, the picture of two snakes intertwining, a list of dashes near the crook of his arm. in between his fingertips, the flower begins to wither and die.

yoongi’s face turns ashen; he pulls it away from him, almost as if distance can stop it from dying, but jungkook pulls it out of his fingers - his cold fingers - and smiles. his mom’s words ring through his head. “thanks! that saves me the trouble of waiting before i press them, hyung.”

obviously not expecting this answer, yoongi blinks. “you’re not...upset?”

“of course not.”

jungkook pockets the flower and leaves it there to be picked up later. it’ll give off a sweet scent he can use for something else, he figures.

yoongi follows him to the table. “it’s not much,” jungkook says, settling down and turning his phone over so he won’t have to see the slew of kakaotalk notifications. “you can sleep on my sofa if you’d like, until morning. hopefully the door won’t be locked until then. sorry about that, hyung.”

“it’s not your fault,” yoongi scratches the side of his neck, embarrassed.. “it’s the - “ he snorts. “forget it. either way, i guess it’s better if i just...quit working for a day.” he thanks jungkook for the food and tucks in, eating at a rather slow pace for someone who is apparently starving. jungkook thinks he’s holding himself back a little.

“what do you major in?”

“it’s called black arts,” yoongi pauses, “but it really has to do with dealing with all this stuff. the dead, the unliving, that kind of thing.”

“that sounds cool,” jungkook can’t imagine working with actual human beings; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that kind of pressure. “so do you talk to spirits and stuff sometimes?”

“not often. i don’t see them that well. mostly i deal with the unliving, but, uh. sometimes it has to do with the spirits of others. you have to be a certain type to be able to talk to the spirits of the dead. they tell really good stories, sometimes.” adding on, he goes, “one time, i met a man who lived in the twenties and spent his entire life thinking he was a rice farmer when it was actually his neighbor’s farm, and he just kept forgetting to pay the actual owner for staying there. the owner’s daughter was in love with him, so they ended up letting him stay until he died from an accident.”

jungkook nearly chokes. “how do you go your whole life without knowing - “

yoongi shrugs helplessly, and they share a laugh. jungkook likes the way yoongi laughs; it’s calm and low, like he’s trying it out for the first time.

“that’s awesome,” he breathes. “i mean. obviously you won’t get to meet nice people all the time, but...” jungkook searches for rice grains around his bowl, unable to meet yoongi’s eye. “i feel so awkward talking to people that it’s actually painful. sometimes i don’t even know what to say or do, and i just end up being quiet.”

“being quiet isn’t a bad thing,” yoongi points out, looking serious. despite his good natured story earlier, he doesn’t look at all bothered with moving onto a slightly less fun topic. “it shows that you’re good at listening, you know?”

“maybe,” jungkook shrugs. “i just wish i could talk to more people. make more friends.”

“we’re all your friends,” yoongi says. “me and hoseok and namjoon, seokjin, jimin, and taehyung. we’re all your friends. don’t doubt that for a second.”

his words leave something warm and fuzzy inside of jungkook’s stomach. he knows that it’s definitely not from the food. with laughter bubbling from his air-inflated lungs, feeling so light, jungkook practically feels the way his magic pours into the room and into the plants, seeping into their soil, making them brighter. the moonflower plant in particular grows a bit more, almost touching the floor.

“thanks, hyung,” jungkook smiles, eyes crinkling, and if he’s not imagining it, yoongi seems to be a little flustered.

after dinner, which is spent with mild chatter talking about their classes and other good places to visit around campus (yoongi knows a lot, and he also knows all the places that will let him in even with his apparent tattoos) jungkook heads to the cabinet to get some blankets and a spare pillow for yoongi.

it’s late at night (almost eleven pm) and he spots yoongi with his laptop open, typing something quickly. jungkook leaves the things in his hands over at the edge of the sofa before sinking down to sit on his rug. yoongi finishes up whatever he’s typing and closes his computer, stuffing it back in his bag.

“do you want any clothes to sleep in?” he asks.

“no, i should be good,” yoongi yawns a little, leaning back. “really, thank you for - uh, well - everything.”

“no, it’s not your fault,” jungkook clears his throat, and he swears the that building starts to shake again just a little. he leaps up to make sure that his wisteria stops swinging around like a madman, and the shaking abruptly stops. “like i said.”

“hopefully none of these kill me,” yoongi looks up at the hanging plants. “what a way to go.” in a lower voice, he mutters, “of course the fucking building stops for you.”

jungkook doesn’t catch the last part, and gives yoongi a questioning look. the other waves it away and makes himself comfortable on jungkook’s couch. he pulls his beanie over the top of his head, blanket over the top of his knees. he wishes jungkook a good night and jungkook keeps the door to his bedroom closed, feeling like all of this is some huge dream.

/

his alarm clock blaring in the morning, however, isn’t a dream. jungkook nearly falls out of bed trying to get it to shut up, his hands flailing this way and that before he actually shuts it off. groaning, jungkook blinks at the light filtering through his window before he sighs in the crooning warmth of his bed, shutting his lids for another second.

it’s here in this soft in between of sleep and consciousness that jungkook floats, moving in a world all his own. he shuffles into the edge of his bed, fingers curling over the ends of his frayed pillow, inhaling familiar scents of vanilla and sweetness. his mom has that kind of perfume, and jungkook is partial to vanilla above all things now - he just likes the way it wafts, how it makes his stomach rumble with the anticipation of something sweet. he sort of misses his mom, if he’s being honest, and wonders if he should go call her before class -

before class.

“oh my fucking god - “

jungkook practically falls out of bed again, this time kicking off his sheets with the jolt of electricity that zings up his spine. horrid realization settles at the forefront of his brain: he’s turned off his fucking alarm, it’s an hour past when he was supposed to get ready and take a shower and eat breakfast and holy shit holy shit his class in the morning -

there’s nothing else to do but start pulling on random clothes from the closet, grabbing the nearest shirt and jacket he can find before slipping into a pair of sweatpants that are probably not good for the cold season, socks, and his already packed bag - well, it’s not like he had taken anything out anyways - hurriedly running a hand through his hair to make sure it looks somewhat decent before heading into into his kitchen.

while he’s rustling through the cabinets for snacks to eat for breakfast, he spots yoongi’s dark head of hair on the sofa, dozing away without a problem, and jungkook groans out loud before yelling, “hyung! hyung wake up we’re late for class!” the last part must end on something horribly high pitched because yoongi jerks awake; his crossed arms smack against each other and he almost collides with the edge of jungkook’s coffee table. a hanging vine hands jungkook a plastic bag of snacks, and he gently pats the vine, trying hard not to cry.

“what th’ fuck,” yoongi mumbles, sitting upright, blinking sleepiness out of his eyes. his sleeves are pushed up, showcasing his dark ink. “um.”

“we’re late for class,” jungkook emphasizes, “like! half an hour late!”

“it’s just class,” yoongi groans, falling back so that his head gets stuffed in the pillow. “who cares.”

“it’s magical theory class hyung we have the quiz today!”

that, at least, pulls yoongi out of his stupor. his head snaps up, eyes widening, and he shares a brief look of utter panic with jungkook before both of them are moving at full speed. jungkook turns back to grab some water and rinse his mouth with water so he won’t feel awful (he has a mini toothbrush in his bag, he’s sure of that at least) and not-so-gently smacks his face with cold water to wake him up. he heads over to pull on his shoes while yoongi is gathering up his stuff and his charger from the wall; he slips his feet into his own boots as soon as jungkook is done lacing up his shoes, and they somehow make it outside of jungkook’s apartment at the same time. he doesn’t even notice that the lock has been all fixed.

while they’re stumbling out to the sidewalk and jungkook is handing over a protein bar to yoongi, he whimpers, “we’ll never get to school on time. oh no god i’m going to panic.”

“shit,” yoongi breathes, biting into his bar so viciously that he takes out an entire half in one go. “shit. why is her dumb quiz today? i didn’t even study for it!”

“it’s supposed to be really easy,” jungkook says, miserable. his hair is starting to limply hang in front of his eyes, and when he feels a tug on his pant leg, jungkook looks down to realize that he’s causing the weeds to grow into vicious little bothers. sniffing, he nudges them away.

yoongi heaves out a big sigh, rubbing the top of his head. “i guess - alright, i guess i can do this, but. damn, i’m going to be tired as all hell after...whatever, i can afford missing a quiz or so. hey, jungkook.” said boy jolts at the sound of his name. “hold onto me.”

“what?” jungkook asks faintly, feeling blood rush to his ears.

“just. okay, so there’s this thing i can do that i learned - it has to do with shadows - just hold on,” yoongi insists, and he looks so ruffled - hair sticking up at the back of his head and his backpack already loosely swinging off one shoulder, all the aggressiveness of a person who doesn’t rise early, that jungkook knows that he’s just as flustered. with a hesitant hand he reaches out to grab onto yoongi’s elbow, before feeling a sharp tug, like someone’s tied him to a rollercoaster and just let it go on full speed -

jungkook will deny to his dying day of the string of curses that spill from his mouth. he throws his body forward and slams it into yoongi, feeling the other’s elbow sink into him for a bit. it’s almost like taking a step down a staircase and missing one before finding your footing on the stair below it - jungkook feels like he’s just skipped a staircase, but as soon as the soles of his feet touch solid ground, there’s a dizzying balance to everything that makes him want to throw up and insist on going again at the same time.

“whoa,” he says breathlessly, gigglings rising in him at the simple rush of adrenaline. “what the hell was that, hyung? that’s so cool?” jungkook pulls away and gasps, blinking at all the bright light and color suddenly filtering in his vision. he didn’t know how badly pitch darkness could affect him.

there’s a groan from beside him; jungkook swivels around and sees yoongi holding a palm to his head, looking a little pale. “hey, hyung, are you - are you okay? did that do something? please don’t tell me that was dangerous for you!”

“needed to get to class,” yoongi huffs, straightening up and blinking away dark spots in his vision. in a moment he sighs and goes, “i’m fine, i’m fine. i’ll just need to sleep a bit more after this, really.”

jungkook isn’t too sure about that, and starts to say as much, when someone barrels past them to zoom down the hall. the insistence makes jungkook remember about their own predicament, and he turns this way and that to see that they’re in the proper hallway for their class and everything - in fact, they’re standing right in front of the classroom!

yoongi is a little terrifying, jungkook thinks mutedly.

“we should get inside and sit, hyung,” jungkook prods, tugging on the end of yoongi’s hem. a nice, neutral place. he looks a little wan, frowning, but doesn’t see too worse for wear. just in case, jungkook holds on a little bit tighter, a sense of unease taking over him. they head inside, where everything has already started to get ready for the quiz. yoongi sits in his usual spot next to jungkook, using him as a sort of shield to make sure that namjoon can’t see him either. they all exchange quick hellos before one of the TAs start handing out papers.

nearly twenty minutes later and with a slight pain at his left temple, jungkook groans and blinks. flexing his hand a couple of times to make sure that it’s not cramping out, he hands in his quiz and goes back to his seat, his brain all worn out. he’s sure that he messed up on some of the definitions, but thankfully the quiz won’t be worth too much. he doesn’t think he can really focus for the rest of the hour and a half, so he leaves his phone out to start recording the lecture.

“how was it?” namjoon leans over to whisper, looking bright eyed, ready to talk about their quiz. “i didn’t think it was that bad, a lot of the terms were from the reading, so i think if we did those it was pretty okay. other than that, there was that one question that got me stumped for a while.”

jungkook rubs his eyes. “i don’t even remember what i wrote,” he admits, hiding a yawn. when he does so, namjoon seems to snap out of whatever he had been preparing to say to look around at jungkook, then at yoongi, who has - who has put his head down on the desk to sleep. he’s already knocked out.

“um,” namjoon says, “wasn’t hyung wearing those clothes yesterday?”

jungkook feels too tired to panic, but if there was any good time to do so, he thinks now would be appropriate. sadly enough, his head is still lagging on the fact that namjoon had actually done the readings and, wow, he should probably do that too, huh? the professor begins her lecture, so namjoon turns away to pay rapt attention. he probably gets all allocated 8 hours of sleep, jungkook thinks a little bleakly, before turning to his notes.

in truth, he feels a little but bad. yoongi being stuck in his apartment is not his fault, but it sort of feels like his responsibility. he thinks of last night, where everything had a distinctly different quality. the flavor of his loneliness hadn’t been as sharp, maybe. sitting down to eat the food he had made by himself didn’t seem so deafening. jungkook has always been a person who loves being by himself; he doesn’t do well in crowds, even worse with new people, and there’s always some part of him that wants to curl up somewhere with his sketchbook instead of having to interact with people. the downside of that is never having anyone around when the quietness starts to become overwhelming, when all his little thoughts meander into rapid rivers of self-doubt.

so yesterday - yesterday was nice. there had been no time to think about his own faults in between his plants, his mother, and yoongi. while it wasn’t too staggering, the interactions between people, it wasn’t too much, either. he steals a look at the guy sleeping next to him, his skin pale, dark shadows visible from underneath his eyes. yoongi has his head pillowed in his crossed arms, back hunched at an uncomfortable angle. jungkook wonders about the ease of their conversation, how it had been so, so effortless to not be - over the edge. yoongi doesn’t push. he kind of lets things be. jungkook, in turn, finds it easier to meet him halfway.

he turns away before yoongi can do something like wake up and see that jungkook is staring at him for no real reason. he opens up his potionagics book to begin notes for his next assignment, which is to essentially come up with a planned potion. jungkook doodles little round bottles filled with soil and sprouts while trying to desperately to keep his thoughts in order.

by the time he scribbles down what kind of ingredients he wants to use, as well as what kind of potion he wants to make, class is already ending. he shuts off the recording and namjoon starts packing his things up. “do you think you can wake yoongi-hyung up, jungkook?”

“oh, ah, sure.” he gently shakes his shoulder, hoping to elicit some more responses from yoongi, who has been pretty much motionless the entire time. yoongi wakes up like he had before, groggily, almost as if roused from deep sleep. jungkook pulls his things toward himself so a girl passing by won’t knock his notebook onto the floor with her backpack floating behind her. he would give anything to bet that she’s got some kinetic affinity.

“is it over?” yoongi groans, sitting up and stretching out. jungkook hears bones creak and pop. the sound of it makes him shudder a little. he’s always disliked that sound. even cracking knuckles is something he tries not to do unless he really, really has to. “i guess i’ll read up on this class after.”

“i recorded the professor,” jungkook says quietly. “i can send it to you, hyung.”

“that would be great.”

“so, hyung,” namjoon cuts in suddenly. jungkook jolts a little, a strange jolt of electricity moving down his spine. namjoon is nowhere near him, so he knows that had not been from a little supernatural kick; for a moment, it had felt like there was no one else but him and yoongi in their own little bubble. “why are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday? and you came with jungkook?” he wiggles his eyebrows, face tinged with a little mischief.

yoongi gives him a flat look. “i guess you forgot how much you hate going to graveyards. i wonder how much you’d like it if you woke up in one.”

jungkook gapes, the thought it making him physically want to recoil, but another part of him wants to laugh a little, too, and it starts up in his throat without his permission when namjoon makes the sound of a dying animal followed by an affronted intake. “hyung, you would never, i’m your best friend!”

“all the more reason.”

jungkook can’t help the little giggle that spills past his mouth, and the both of them look at him when he reaches up to cover his mouth. he pulls away as naturally as he can, going, “what?”

yoongi stares at him longer than namjon does, who snickers. yoongi’s hand makes an aborted movement before he pulls it back to himself, twisting it in his rumpled shirt before grabbing his backpack. namjoon is the one who reaches out and tugs something from jungkook’s hair; it feels like he’s pulling on his hair, but then the pressure immediately fades away before jungkook can get the first syllable of “ouch” out of his mouth.

in his hands is a twirling white flower, five petaled, with a little dip in the middle.

“this just grew out of your head,” he explains, amused. “it was sort of cool?”

jungkook reaches out to snatch the moonflower out of namjoon’s hand. his face is burning, no doubt, because these little slips of magic hasn’t happened to him since he hit puberty. he has no idea why it’s happening again, but he certainly won’t mention that it’s out of the ordinary. no, he’ll take that to the graveyard that’ll be situated in namjoon’s apartment.

“it just happens sometimes,” he says, putting the flower in between the pages of one of his books. he keeps it shut nice and firm, so much so that it sticks out of the edge of the paper already flattened out. yoongi is waiting for both him and namjoon at the edge of the door, hands already shoved in his pockets. at least he looks a lot better than he had before. jungkook makes a mental note to make sure that he won’t ever had to use that method of travelling again.

“what do you want to eat?” yoongi asks jungkook lightly, pointedly ignoring the way namjoon’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. jungkook adjusts the straps of his bag so they don’t dig into his skin so roughly. he thinks of the little moonflower pressed in between the pages of his notebook and his wrists ache a little.

“anything is fine,” jungkook rushes to say. “maybe soup? and rice? i don’t know, i’m really okay with anything.”

“sounds good,” yoongi turns to namjoon and scratches the back of his neck. “you want to come along, or...?”

namjoon looks in between them for a moment; the way his eyes flicker in between jungkook and yoongi makes the tips of jungkook’s ears feel a little warm. there’s something very curious about his look, almost like he’s asking, what’s going on? don’t you know, jungkook? and he really doesn’t. maybe he does. maybe he doesn’t want to get himself to think about it in the first place.

“nah,” namjoon grins, laughing while pulling out his phone. “jimin wanted me to help him with something in one of his conduit classes. lightning isn’t my specialty, but i took that class before as an elective, so i’ll help him out a little.”

“oh,” jungkook, for some reason, can’t help the spring of nervousness that grows in his chest. “okay! tell jimin-hyung i said hi.”

“will do,” namjoon salutes the both of them with a cool two fingered salute and walks off to the bus stop while texting something on his phone, hurriedly weaving in between the crowd of students that have just come out of their first morning-to-afternoon classes.

“i don’t really know any good soup places,” yoongi admits, “all of them are kind of just okay, nothing too special.”

“that’s fine too, hyung!”

“hm,” yoongi doesn’t look too convinced, but jungkook wants to head out of campus already. he feels a little flushed. maybe he’s sick? jungkook wonders if he should stop by the pharmacy on the way home and get some medicine, but whenever he tries to take store bought or commercial medicine, all his plants get huffy. they really don’t like the smell of synthesized chemicals, especially on him.

they end up finding a soup and stew place a block away from the gates of shinbi university. jungkook likes that they get to sit on the floor and take off their shoes to relax, and that they’re sitting in a corner so he can rest his head on the table top without repercussion. yoongi is scrolling through his phone for something, so jungkook allows himself to close his eyes for a moment and drift. sun on his cheeks and skin makes it warm and comfortable, even with his back hunching over to be able to finally rest.

“hey,” yoongi’s hand rests on his shoulder, warm. “c’mon, you gotta choose what you want to eat before you take a nap.”

blinking awake, they tell the waiter that it’ll be a seafood soup (for jungkook) and a chicken stew (for yoongi) along with plenty of banchan and rice. jungkook warms up his fingers by placing them near the edge of the table, where the heater is.

“it’s starting to get colder,” he frowns. “i don’t really like winter.”

“let me guess - spring?”

jungkook wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t deny it. once his fingers have stopped being so chilly, he brings them back to his lap to check on his phone, which suddenly has a bunch of texts from jimin: you’re having lunch with yoongi hyung? oooOOoooOooH

he swipes away the notifications without actually reading them.

“i like winter,” yoongi muses, staring outside the window for moment. “i think it’s a nice time to get warm.”

something hangs on the edge of his words, something that jungkook’s muddled brain can’t really pick up. he drums his fingertips on the top of the table, unable to do anything else, and finds himself looking to the sky as well. today is a bright, pretty blue. he wishes that it could be a bit warmer so he can enjoy the scenery, never a fan of the biting cold, but jungkook thinks - well, there’s something to be said about having winter, too. quiet moments in between snowfall and frost, moving from shallow waters where spring and summer brought relief to endless glades of white. there’s something to be said about it, he thinks, even when the trees are bare.

“do you know, hyung,” jungkook starts, “that there’s a plant that can survive in the snow? i mean, it gives off so much heat that it melts the snow around it and grows.”

“i didn’t,” yoongi says. “how does it melt snow?”

“they just give off all this heat that it can break through the ice and snow. it’s called a skunk cabbage and it’s supposed to smell really bad,” he laughs. “but i always thought it was a really cool. not everything always has to be what we think it is, you know? most people think that flowers only really grow in spring but there are tons of plants that grow all times of the year.”

yoongi shoots him an amused look. “i feel like i’ve just been passively aggressively told not to stereotype flowers.”

“i mean. you said it, not me.”

the resounding laugh that comes out of yoongi is low but genuine, causing his chest and shoulders to shake. it pulls up the corners of his mouth and shows off his gums; he looks down when he smiles, like he’s trying to hide it. jungkook flushes and leans back a little, realizing that he’s gotten a bit too close to see yoongi’s stuttered and hidden laughter.

“your order?” they both receive their food, placed in front of them with ease. jungkook inhales the scent of clams and mollusks, ready to be devoured, and presses three fingers down against his rumbling stomach as if to shush it.

“hyung,” jungkook starts, and when yoongi looks up at him, jungkook raises his glass with both hands. “cheers!”

“we’re not even drinking,” yoongi grumbles, but moves his cup to clink against jungkook’s.

/

by the time november hits, jungkook starts getting bogged down with his assignments and his work. it’s a lot more than he’s used to, that’s for sure, and even if he’s become fond of the work that he’s doing, there’s still a lot of things he has to learn managing his time, for one. learning how to stay away past 2 am, for the another. maybe learning how to not feel so jittery he’ll throw up after drinking only one large cup of coffee, finally. he doesn’t know how else to deal with the sudden stress load. when he gets home, he wants to lie down in bed and rest forever, maybe close his eyes and forget about the outside world. with the amount of readings he has to complete, that’s nothing short of impossible.

but then when he manages to get himself to study after being a functional human being - showering, eating, maybe doing some laundry - he goes at it until it’s nearly midnight, his stomach is turning in twists, and he’s rethinking his decision to go to college. he can’t really text anyone of his friends, either, because they either won’t answer (his friends from back in busan) or they’re busy with their own midterms (jimin, taehyung, everyone.) it leaves him stewing in his own darkness, sitting in the middle of his bed with the lights on blaringly and anxiety coiling deep and easy in his gut.

he wants to keep studying, he really does; he’s got a paper and two readings and a couple of assignments due when it comes to monday and he hasn’t been able to rest for the past weekend like he has on other weekends (especially with the rest of his friends) and it’s really. it’s really taking a toll on him. it feels stupid to say in his head, but he has no other way of explaining it. there’s just something in him that can’t deal with being alone for too long, as introverted as he likes to call himself.

so by the time it hits midnight, jungkook is sometimes already curling into the warmth of his bed, that feeling growing and growing in him. a knowing noose hanging over his head, telling him that he still has work to finish, that there’s so much to do and too little time, how will he finish all of it? why can’t he just stay up a bit longer and finish it all up? why can’t he just -

by then, he’s already drifting into dreamless sleep.

people have noticed that he’s not the same. he’s a lot more quiet and withdrawn in the one class that he shares with namjoon and yoongi, and both of them have brought it up - in their own ways, of course, and not at the same time. namjoon gave him another piece of candy, asking him quietly if he needed more, and yoongi had given him a look so as to say are you okay? but hadn’t really gave much more than that.

it all comes to a head the weekend before his big potionagics exam, which is on tuesday. there’s just so much to cover, and jungkook finds himself staring down at his books and papers and highlights and post it notes and suddenly the scope of everything is just too much - he starts crying. it’s not pretty, but he feels it spilling down his cheeks as it gets harder and harder to breathe, as he tries to gasp more air back into his lungs. his nose is clogged and closed, so there’s really no other way than to intake oxygen than to breathe through his mouth. his crying turns into audible sobs as his fingers shake. he wants to bite down on his fist and stop the sounds but it’s not like anyone would hear him, anyways.

jungkook wants to disappear. that’s the feeling that he has right now that can’t quite me expressed. he wants to turn flat, two dimensional, and slip in between all the cracks. there’s no other way he can explain what this - this want to just disappear, for everything to just stop, to just get a full night of sleep and a good meal and some time with his friends, a call from his mom, anything else but this. he’s so sick of studying. he’s so sick of trying. why is he even attempting to get a good grade? it’s not like he’s going to do well in this class anyways. no matter how hard he tries - his first exam hadn’t gone so well, and it left a dark impression on his psyche (i have to do better) and he thought that giving it his best for the net exam would be good enough, too. he would get higher scores, things would be okay.

things aren’t okay.

jungkook inhales sloppily, once more attempting to swallow in air, and closes his eyes. he hides his face in his hands, hunching over toward his papers, trying to feel any type of better. compose himself. he has a whole day, maybe another if he skips monday classes (not even caring about the repercussions of that) to figure out what to do, to study for one last time. he can do this? he can do this. he can - he can’t, god, there’s so much material and he’s just so tired -

“jungkook?”

the calm, hesitant voice shocks jungkook out of his position. his back aches and complains as he straightens, jolting way from his wet fingers.

yoongi is standing there, at the edge of the room where his - where his wall is supposed to be. right behind his shelf of peonies and lavenders, where he’s supposed to have his prettily painted sage green wall, there’s nothing. jungkook can see through all the way to yoongi’s apartment, dark colors gleaming with a shine of purple and blue underneath the sunlight streaming from his balcony window.

having yoongi see him in such a state is enough to make jungkook jolt awake, pushing the excess wetness away from his face. it won’t do anything to get rid of the fact that he had been obviously crying, but anything is enough to make him feel like he has some semblance of control over what’s happening right now. everything feels so astonishingly quiet. even his own breathing is loud, ringing in his ears.

yoongi stands at the edge of where their floors are separated, from jungkook’s lightly washed wooden floor to yoongi’s rug. he looks away. the burn of shame and embarrassment overtakes him quickly, chasing away the overarching anxiety.

“hey,” yoongi starts, speaking as loud as he can so that jungkook can hear him from his apartment. “can i come over?”

it’s ridiculous. yoongi is pretty much already in his apartment, what else can he do? waiting at the edge of where there had been a wall in between them, there’s nothing else stopping him from just...coming over. the fact that he doesn’t move an inch until jungkook rasps out, “okay,” is why he does it in the first place.

yoongi steps over into jungkook’s apartment, and as soon as he does so, something shimmers behind him. after a moment, his wall reappears as if it had never been gone in the first place, but now it’s different. now, yoongi is already here. he presses his fingers against each other and waits while yoongi lingers at the edge of the apartment.

“the building is fucking with us again,” he starts, just to say anything. it’s almost like jungkook is giving him an out, an okay, an explanation. not that yoongi needs it, but maybe - maybe jungkook needs it. maybe he would have never let someone else in if it weren’t for that little push, for that little nudge over the edge. already, the pressing weight that had been threatening to overtake him starts to dissipate. when he’s in front of other people, it’s easier to be okay. it’s only when he’s alone that he feels it like a vice.

“isn’t that right,” yoongi says, heading inside a bit more, step by step. he even starts to take off his boots before he reaches jungkook’s white carpet. “this place is always fucking with all of us. did i tell you about the time it made taehyung and jimin get stuck in the elevator for a whole three hours?”

“what?” jungkook manages a bit of a watery laugh.

yoongi motions to the spot next to jungkook, and he wordlessly moves over a bit. the elder is in comfortable clothes today, a warm looking black sweater and jeans. his socks are blue, with white stripes. “yeah. taehyung likes jimin a lot, you know. none of us give him shit for it, because - well, what can you say to someone who knows every future?” jungkook grabs a pillow just to have something to hold. he crosses his legs and keeps them on top of the sofa, burrowing in the warmth. his limbs have almost gone numb from being stationary for so long. yoongi has this thing where he doesn’t look jungkook in the eye when he’s talking for long periods of time like this. that’s fine by jungkook. gives him time to observe every little detail about yoongi without the other catching on.

“he told me he sees possibilities,” jungkook says.

“and each of those are possible futures,” yoongi points out. “sometimes i think he likes to try and change something for the better, but then - what if that meant he was meant to do it all along? i don’t know anything about taehyung’s powers, but it makes him miserable sometimes.” softer, he goes, “all of our powers make us miserable, sometimes.”

jungkook thinks about that, sometimes. he loves being able to do what he can, but sometimes it’s overwhelming. sometimes he feels like curling up on top of a concrete floor, letting the rest of the world pass by without him hearing the voices, the tones, the songs. sometimes all he wants is quiet, too.

“a lot of people think that my power is sad,” yoongi starts. jungkook turns his head to look at him, even though yoongi is occupied by something else. his adam’s apple bobs for a moment before he finds what he wants to say. “that’s just the word for it: sad. because that’s what death is supposed to be, right? when people you love pass on, the most simplest way you could explain how you’re feeling is sad. but i don’t think it’s sad, per say. i mean - “ laughing, he spreads his fingers over his knees. his sweater rides up a little to show the ink embedded on his skin. “ - not totally. i think there’s a lot of hope there, too.”

“do you?”

“hope that things are better,” yoongi says. “hope that there’s rest, peace, something other than suffering. it’s sad to see someone go, but it’s also...nice. to know that they’re somewhere else than here.” finally, his eyes turn to meet jungkook’s. dark and expressive, jungkook used to think that they had been a little intimidating - but yoongi isn’t intimidating. “do you get what i mean?”

“a little,” jungkook replies honestly.

what he knows about yoongi is that he’s not someone who’s frightening. he’s just - another person. he’s observant and kind and always knows what to say, even when he has to say nothing at all - or really, when nothing needs to be said in the first place. jungkook appreciates it right now, when his ribs feel like crumbling and caving into his lungs.

“that’s why i think living is important. it’s much better to live for yourself and your own happiness than to try and make someone else happy. you’ll never make everyone happy, but.” a warm breeze moves through the room. “i think that if you made yourself happy first, it wouldn’t even matter.”

“yoongi,” his name slips out as a whisper.

“whatever is bothering you,” yoongi starts earnestly, reaching out to hesitantly hover his hand over jungkook’s tightly curled fingers. after a moment, he gently plucks apart jungkook’s death grip on his pillow, until his palm is smoothened out underneath yoongi’s callused hand. “i’m sure that you’d do a lot more being happy.”

“i’m just...stressed,” he admits. “it feels like - like everything is piling on top of me all at once, and i don’t know how to deal with everything. or do everything. or when i’ll find the time, because i just - i just want to go to sleep. i’m so tired.”

“that’s fine,” yoongi starts slowly, and jungkook can’t help himself from curling his hand in yoongi’s, absorbing his coolness. instead of being off-putting, he finds it grounding. “did you try making a list? planning out everything you have to do?”

“makes it worse,” he mumbles.

yoongi hums in response; he pulls away for a moment to lean toward the coffee table where jungkook’s stuff is. he moves along with yoongi for a moment before he realizes that the other is just grabbing some paper. jungkook twists his hands in his pillow again.

“come on, i’ll help you,” clicking a pen, he nods toward the the paper. “tell me everything.”

jungkook lists off all the things he has to do one by one, as they pop up in his head - readings, assignments, short essays, anything at all. even small things like going shopping for groceries or buying some stuff at the store for his plants. the faster they pop up in his memory, the faster his tongue rushes to put them in the air. because yoongi is keeping track of everything, it’s easier to just get it all out there. he doesn’t have to continuously go over what’s important.

“alright, let’s see what you have to do first,” yoongi suggests. “i think you want it to be all the schoolwork, but maybe you should go grocery shopping first. it’ll help you take your mind off of the other things, you know?”

“it’s late,” jungkook points out, breathing out harshly. a tingle running up his thigh informs him that it’s time to move again, or else his leg is going to lose blood flow very, very soon. as he does that, his elbow brushes against yoongi’s. jungkook tries to subtly move back, pretending like it doesn’t make his ears turn red. a soft brush against his ear startles jungkook, and for a moment he thinks it’s yoongi’s fingers -

it’s only one of his vines, the lovely moonflower plant. it’s vines twirl and reach down to brush his cheek. green leaves tickle the edge of his vision. jungkook pulls away to tenderly run his fingers over the edge of it. out of all of them, his moonflower plant seems the most sensitive to anything. it only ever opens up at night, when the rest of the world has fallen asleep, and cries for affection at the oddest times.

jungkook presses one of its petals in between his fingers. yoongi watches on wordlessly.

“there’s always parts of this city that never sleeps.”

just like this flower, jungkook thinks. he blows on it gently and it shrinks back to it’s hanging pot, satisfied with the attention jungkook has given it for now. from the very top, both he and yoongi observe the lone moonflower bloom.

“it’s amazing how you grow these,” yoongi starts, catching on the edge of wistfulness. jungkook takes a moment to look at him. “i mean. i never really - sometimes i can’t help it. things just...die when i touch them. not people, but. i never mean it.”

jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that. it still feels like he’s weeding out all the little spaces in his chest, where things have grown out of order. where he’s still gathering up shattered courage and frivolous little shards of his emotions. jungkook has never been graceful with his down moments, but he’s never felt so...relaxed after one of them. sort of like he can still keep breathing, or sort of like he can look up and not find himself wanting to drown.

but he also doesn’t know what to say to make the awful look on yoongi’s face go away. it’s soft, far away, something bordering on envious. jungkook takes the list from him and places it in between his folders to look at later.

“do you want to come with me?” he asks, voice crackling. he clears it once. “to buy groceries.”

finally, yoongi looks away from the abundance of green around them and blinks at jungkook, looking taken aback. unexpecting the offer to come along.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” jungkook smiles, and it feels a little stretched out at the corners, but it also feels real. “i have no idea where the good grocery stores are, i think i’ve been buying stuff from the expensive place.”

yoongi huffs out a laugh, but then shakes his head. “you’re shit out of luck with me, kid. all my food is pre-packaged stuff from the convenience store. i don’t have time to cook.”

“oh, hyung.”

“i don’t like this tone of judgement of yours.”

“you at least have to buy milk or something at the grocery store, right?”

“they sell those at convenience stores too, jungkook.”

gathering up his shoes and finding his wallet, jungkook continues arguing: “but then what about stuff like cereal and vegetables and stuff? or fruit? you can buy bulk snacks at the grocery store, too.”

“i don’t think that far,” yoongi replies simply, pulling down his sleeves so they cover up all the tattoos reaching his wrist bone. jungkook rolls his eyes. “no, really. i think about what i’m going to eat for the next meal and maybe tomorrow. there’s always something to do.”

“weren’t you the one that just told me to list out and organize everything i was doing?”

yoongi gives him a look. “i don’t practice what i preach.”

spluttering, jungkook throws his keys at yoongi, who catches them easily with a green. “you’re so ridiculous, hyung, it’s actually annoying.”

“my natural charm, of course.”

“give me my keys back, i regret asking you to come - “

“hey, you threw them at me, and i could just stay home - “

“hyung!”

the both of the them trip over the staircase (elevator currently on maintenance, oh jeez) and make their way out into the chilly seoul night. jungkook holds his jacket tightly over himself to help brace against the biting cold. yoongi doesn’t look bothered at all, lets the wind run though every inch of his dark hair until there are flyaways and pieces of it sticking up.

they head out like a pair of giddy school children into the streets, suddenly in higher spirits. jungkook isn’t sure if it’s the weightlessness that comes with indifference, with losing every single care he has about working until his eyes bleed and his fingers tremble, or the way that the air filters through his lungs that makes him feel invincible, if only for a second. he’s not sure if this is what he’s supposed to be feeling, all over the edge recklessness, running through the streets after his feet touches the ground. yoongi follows behind him at a milder pace, rolling his eyes and scowling as jungkook weaves his way through the crowd, blinking against the bright lights of seoul. it’s always brightly lit in seoul, like a city that’s forgotten how to sleep, has built itself up on the noise of grief and happiness.

“how am i supposed to show you where to go if you’re always going ahead of me?” yoongi’s voice cuts in when jungkook takes a break to inhale. he’s lightheaded and running amok, his fingers itching to press against something. whenever jungkook feels a little bit more tired, there’s something in him that wants to jump out and run. he doesn’t know what it is. he thinks about being holed up in his apartment and despite everything, despite it being his home, there’s and endlessness that’s appealing to his feet when he’s on the streets.

“sorry,” he says breathlessly, patting the sides of his face to warm them up a little. “but you made it anyways, right, hyung?”

yoongi is giving him a strange little look when he comes to jungkook’s side. planes of his face is illuminated by the stark, contrasting lights of the city, jungkook looks away when it almost becomes too much to look at him. red, green, blue and purple stream in a steady trickle of color and illumination, creating patterns across their shoes.

“found a leyline?” he asks quietly, and when jungkook turns to stare at him questioningly, yoongi points to the ground. “found one of the leylines? i can’t imagine any other reason why you look - ...” he trails off at the end, focused on jungkook’s expression. he lingers over a little too long, a little too intimately, unblinkingly drinking in the shape of jungkook’s eyes, nose, mouth.

“i always thought the magic of seoul felt - dirty,” jungkook admits, staring down at his feet. it looks like normal pavement. a blaring siren sound passes them by as continue their stillness, a posed picture. the club across from them changes songs, a group of drunk friends stumble by. “something about it, at least, felt that way.”

“a lot of it is muddled because there’s so many people here,” yoongi explains. “so many people even without magic, other supernaturals, other lives. all of it bleeds down into the ground and makes it feel like infinite noise. but sometimes - sometimes you can hear it, or feel it. sometimes it feels really clear.”

“busan was never like this. you could smell the sea everywhere, even if you were nowhere near close.”

yoongi shrugs, taking a step closer. “what about those groceries?”

“i’m not hungry right now.”

“you will be soon.”

jungkook gives a small smile. “that’s a problem for the future me.”

reaching out to pinch jungkook’s elbow between his fingers, a silly little movement that makes him squirm, yoongi rolls his eyes. “come on, let’s head to the place i was talking about. we can get ramen there too, even if it’s not a convenience store.”

“is it cheap?”

“my wallet is dying, you know. i can’t buy you food every time.”

“you could just bring it back to life,” jungkook says seriously, and then hides a laugh when he sees yoongi’s scoff so hard his body jerks. when it manages to dissipate into a funny feeling at the back of his throat, jungkook goes, “thanks.”

he’s not really sure what he’s saying thank you for - maybe for yoongi deciding to step into his home, maybe for yoongi’s calm voice pulling him out of panic, maybe for yoongi’s body nearly a centimeter away from his own providing him the sureness of another human being. maybe jungkook is glad to get his mind off of that awful downward spiral. maybe he’s just glad that he’s outside with an excuse, maybe he’s grateful for the building making the wall disappear, maybe he’s been missing something that he’s been so desperately searching for and has only now begun to get a single inkling of how to find it.

jungkook just doesn’t know, but he figures that’s what living is all about.

/

seokjin invites them all over for dinner and video games one night, citing that he’s had just about enough of reading all his bullshit for school (his words, not jungkook’s) and that he really just needs a night off. for jungkook, a night off would be curling up in bed and playing random rhythm games on his phone, but for seokjin, that means being social. jimin says that seokjin likes being around people, likes having someone to talk to, and jungkook thinks he understands what that feels like to an extent.

he wears his comfiest hoodie and sweatpants, because there’s no way he’s going to go outside at this time of night in proper clothes. this will have to be good enough for seokjin, who always looks perfectly put together (well, even if he wore a potato sack he’d still be perfectly put together, jungkook thinks. seokjin just has that kind of face.) he does, however, bring along a couple of snacks from his own apartment to eat over there in case they get fried fish again, which jungkook isn’t a big fan of.

it’s nice to have somewhere to go and someone to hang out with. jungkook may not talk much or make his presence known loudly, but he likes being included. of all the times he’s hung out with the entire group, he’s never felt like an outsider or someone hanging off the edge. they’ve got their inside jokes and their secrets but they never let it hang out until it becomes awkward, or they’ll drag jungkook into their past messes and laugh about it all over again. it makes him - feel less alone. less like he’s standing on the outside, looking in, but more like he had been there all along.

if he smiles to himself in the shadowy corners or situated in between two of them on the sofa, he’ll never admit it.

his steadily growing friendship with yoongi has made things a lot easier, too. jungkook hadn’t realized how careful everyone was when it seemed like he was too anxious to be in the same room as yoongi - there was a purposeful lack of mentioning the elder while jungkook was around, a fact that left him feeling like the floor had been pulled out underneath him when jimin admitted it. they didn’t want jungkook to feel like he no place here, or anxious to be around them. they just wanted him to be happy.

now that he and yoongi have gotten closer - at least, jungkook likes to think so - the air is even brighter. it almost feels like a fever dream when all seven of them are in the same room. everything is louder, brighter, more real - more intricate.

hoseok is showing him pictures of his cacti, which are now growing tremendously - especially since jungkook had seen them - and wonders if he’ll be able to sell them off at a better price, because he really can’t get any sunlight anymore. jungkook laughs and thinks, privately, that sometimes a little sun is all you need, but hoseok is enough brightness that he could probably sustain himself.

when it’s already turned to dusk, seokjin puts out fried chicken for everyone to take and two boxes of pizza, a bunch of snacks, a tray of vegetables with ranch dip for himself and jimin (they actually like ranch dip for some reason) and a couple of sandwiches cut in four near triangles. jungkook takes one of those, not really feeling up to eating anything cheesy at the moment, but tells himself that he’s going to down two slices at some point in the night.

when hoseok has been led away by something taehyung is trying to show him on the television screen - it’s another contestant show, and taehyung is insisting that he knows who is going to win this season (namjoon is calling his bluff) and hoseok is adamantly arguing about it.

“want another one?” yoongi asks him from the side, holding out a bottle of water. jungkook rubs his cold fingers and takes it, screwing open to cap to take a couple of consistent gulps.

“thanks, hyung.”

“no problem,” yoongi leans on the counter next to him, hands in his pockets. he’s wearing full sleeves again, this time with a turtleneck. it would look pretentious on anyone else if it wasn’t yoongi. “if you want, you can head home after a couple of bites. seokjin always asks everyone to come over but he knows we can’t stay for long.”

“oh,” jungkook turns to look at seokjin, who is cackling at something namjoon said. “i don’t know.”

“well, i was just offering,” yoongi says, “because i was about to leave. need to go do some work.”

“hm,” jungkook thinks about it for a moment. it’s not that he doesn’t have work to do, but he doesn’t want to do it. however, he also doesn’t want to go back to his apartment, but he’s not in the best mood to be sociable. jungkook stares at his friends, the ones who have managed to include him in every way possible, who have done their best to keep the little warm flame in his chest running. speaking of flames - seokjin’s fingers spark a little, and they’re starting to get heated up in an argument about the show. even jimin has joined in, a gleeful expression painting itself firmly across his features.

“i’ll come with,” jungkook finally decides, packing up his stuff - not that he brought much, the snacks he had earlier are pretty much all consumed - and following after yoongi.

seokjin is one floor up from their own. jungkook stuffs his hands in his pockets and lingers a step or two behind yoongi as he takes his keycard out to open up his front door. jungkook finds himself, strangely, stalling. he gently fingers the little buttercups on his door, wondering about their longevity. they’re still dew-wet and soft, which he’s happy about.

“they’re really sensitive,” yoongi’s voice startles him a bit, like all noises do when jungkook gets into this - this headspace of his, stuck in the clouds, in between leaves. “i mean. i saw one of them fell out of place and when i tried to move it, it just...wilted? but then when i pulled away....” even though he trails off, jungkook knows exactly what yoongi means.

“oh,” he breathes, stilling.

jungkook doesn’t know how he would feel if the flowers did that for him. maybe the dichotomy of life and death is a little bit more heightened for him, because all he sees is life - bringing things to life, growing in his own way, reaching for the sun when he can. but also learning that to every sunspot leaf, there’s always a darker, cooler side. that’s the way things work, the way things always need to work. he’s never had to think about what ifs - what if he never had this? what if things died at his touch?

suddenly, he realizes that yoongi doesn’t really touch him the way the rest of them do. none of taehyung’s friendly one armed hugs, seokjin’s hair ruffles, namjoon’s linked arms, jimin and hoseok’s hugs. out of all of them, yoongi feels the most distant when it comes to that. but the warmth of his gaze can’t be denied, and jungkook - jungkook likes the coolness of his hands.

he plucks a buttercup off of the vine.

“hyung, want to grow one?” he asks, reaching it out for him. the little five petaled flower sways, almost as if saying hello.

“i can’t grow things,” yoongi denies almost immediately, but his gaze switches down to the little flower, almost like he’s tempted. “i’m really bad at it, i mean.”

“you never know unless you try,” he encourages.

yoongi turns - still, suddenly, so very still. his fingers pause their tiny movements on the door, tapping against the silver metal handle. in the light, he’s paler than usual, the shadows dancing underneath his eyes. jungkook wonders why night time brings out the melancholy in them all.

“this sounds stupid,” yoongi mutters, looking away, “but i. i did try.”

“huh?”

“the buttercup,” he admits, nodding toward the breezy flora. “one fell off of your door and i picked it up; it didn’t die, so i thought...soil and water and fertilizer, right? i tried, but in the end, it just...died too.”

“i can help you grow it,” jungkook blurts out before his mind has the time to process exactly what he’s saying. “i mean. if you wanted - i know how to help even the most stubborn of stuff grow - there was this one time a pea plant wouldn’t bloom and it was stupid but i really wanted it to, so i looked up a bunch of different spells - anyways,” jungkook clears his throat the moment he sees yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up at the sudden barrage of words from his mouth. he flushes a little, feeling it spread from his nose to the tip of his ears. “i could. help.”

for a moment, nothing moves.

yoongi opens his mouth and - the door smacks him right in the face.

it’s so quick that jungkook isn’t even sure of what’s happening until he’s bleeding and there’s yoongi doubling over and holding his hands toward his face - did jungkook do that? for a wild moment, he truly thinks that this is somehow his fault - but then he notices that yoongi’s apartment door is wide open, jungkook’s hands are still outstretched with the little yellow flower, and yoongi is pulling his fingers away from his nose with a groan and red painting his fingers.

“you’re bleeding,” jungkook first says dumbly, a little obviously, before he rushes forward to be a couple of steps away from yoongi. “don’t - don’t touch it!”

“i kind of don’t want this all over my shirt, thanks,” yoongi says a little dryly, but he leans in a little bit toward jungkook before staring incredulously at his door. “what the fuck has been going on?”

“um,” jungkook is still trying to figure out how to get yoongi from spilling more of his insides all over his outsides, but the elder is more concerned with something else, it seems.

“this is the fourth fucking time - “

“the door hit you in the face four times now?”

“- no, this goddamn building has kept me from getting into my house properly four times now. it’s playing worse games than a shitty streamer.”

jungkook tries really hard not to laugh, especially when he’s still worried about yoongi. “at least go inside and get some ice on that, hyung.”

“dunno, that fucking apartment might just poison me,” yoongi grumbles, and jungkook has an inkling that yoongi might be one of the people that holds grudges. grudges even against inanimate objects. objects like doors that open on their own - well, does that mean that it’s really inanimate? and -

“the building?”

“is fucking with me,” yoongi finishes grudgingly. jungkook walks behind him, worried, as he heads inside his apartment building; he shuts the door behind him but takes his hand away suddenly as if it stings, almost like some bolt of lightning will run through the door handle and up to his fingers. that, or some other meaningless but possible harmful prank. jungkook pulls at his sleeves, a little nervous tick, and gives the walls a little distrustful look.

he swears that he hears rumbling like low laughter.

“i think i have tissues somewhere, shit.”

deciding that it has to be a trick or - some kind of mind effect where he thinks the building is somehow communicating with him but it’s really not communicating with him, jungkook takes off his shoes and heads into yoongi’s room. through his brief experiences here before, he’s seen the dark walls and the carpet of the living room, as well as the curtains and the general shape of things that are here. yoongi looks like a generally disorganized person, but everything has their own place. jungkook passes by a stack of music books that go up to his hip, settled next to a keyboard propped against the wall. on the coffee table situated in front of a comfortable couch are numerous scrolls - actual scrolls! - opened up. red pen marks are everywhere. yoongi also has a couple of albums framed and hung on the walls like they’re art pieces. jungkook’s eyes stray to them before he heads a clamor in the generation direction of the attached kitchen.

unlike the main area, yoongi’s kitchen isn’t as lived in or as nice. there’s a good amount of dishes in the sink, a couple packages of instant ramen hanging out at the edge of the small countertop, and a tea kettle that’s gathering literal dust.

“oh, hyung, let me see your nose.” jungkook grabs a tissue from a roff of the stuff before twisting some of it into small little corkscrews. yoongi’s busy washing away blood from his upper lip, spitting out tinged water into the sink.

“it aches like a bitch, but other than that, it doesn’t seem to be too bad,” he admits, wiping his hands on his jeans. jungkook lingers for a moment. he’s reminded, suddenly, of how yoongi is so reticent when it comes to touching - how he seems to rarely do it - and then jungkook thinks of sitting across him on a restaurant table, mapping out the centimeters in between. yoongi leans against the counter like he had earlier.

jungkook peeks outside the window in yoongi’s kitchen, overlooking a dark alleyway with small pinpricks of light from who knows where. there’s another window that he hasn’t seen, if he can vaguely recall what it was like being in yoongi’s apartment for about 10 seconds.

“i have a lot of practice looking at broken noses,” he says, finding nothing else to add. “i used to break my nose a lot as a kid. my mom always said i was looking to break bones when i went outside, and it’s only because i had her genes that i didn’t.” jungkook thinks of his plants, how he touches them with feather light ministrations. with the same pressure, jungkook presses his fingers against the bridge of yoongi’s nose, checking if it’s swollen or sore. the way yoongi gives a low hiss tells him all that he needs to know.

“it’s fine,” yoongi insists, even when he’s grimacing.

“i think it’s a little sprained,” jungkook tells him apologetically. “do you have any of those things for your nose? like the - the breathing pads?” when yoongi stares at him blankly, jungkook groans and rubs his face.

a low chuckle makes him peek through his fingers. “it’s fine. i think i sort of get it, but i’ll go and buy some gauze and tape or something. make sure that it stays in place. that’s all i can really recall from first aid.”

“i have gauze in my apartment,” jungkook blurts, and when he stands up abruptly to go back to his place and get it, something sharp and intensely painful blooms at the back of his neck. “ouch, what the hell?”

bewildered, yoongi goes, “holy shit, that literally came through the wall.”

at the ground, near their feet, is a white and red first aid kit, lying innocently at their feet.

jungkook stares at it for a bit longer, half fearful and half wondering if it’ll bite him if it picks it up. yoongi looks down at it, unimpressed, but he also doesn’t move to pick it up either, so. there’s a ripple across the surface of yoongi’s floor and jungkook - jungkook does not yelp.

“i’m moving out,” yoongi announces, and then swears as he gets - uh - well, patted lightly by the cabinet situated right behind his head. still swearing, jungkook can’t help but find a bubble of laughter rise up in him, like it’s coming from the depths of his ocean lungs.

jungkook applies a bit of topical pain cream to help with the quick swelling, his fingers moving over the bridge of yoongi’s nose quickly. for his part, yoongi doesn’t move as jungkook patches him up. he refrains from the urge to slap a bunch of bandages and gauze all over the other’s nose, mostly because he knows that it won’t help any. the tile is cool underneath jungkook’s socked feet when he steps back a little.

“thanks,” yoongi starts, quiet. jungkook snaps the first aid kit shut, setting it aside. “do you want anything to drink?”

“i’m - i’m okay.” his stomach still feels a little jittery, almost like something is dancing around. jungkook presses a hand to his stomach as yoongi turns to the fridge, attempting to get something out of it. while he does that, jungkook’s eyes naturally travel all around yoongi’s room, moving from the edge of the dark walls, shadowed and tinted when the sun hits them. it comes to jungkook that yoongi’s magic is imbued here, in the very edges of the place, like a steady drum. it feels like a livewire, like going to a concert and then hearing every amplified beat sync in with your own heart. jungkook finds himself walking toward the edge of the room despite himself, to the wall he knows separates him and yoongi by a few mere inches of plaster and wood.. jungkook places his hand against it and that - that thrum - is warm and comforting, reaching out to clasp onto his own hand. he thinks about the mura. at school, how it shifts and changes with every signature passing it by, latching onto anything to be a little different - to have some kind of identity - even for a moment.

jungkook’s hand falls. he makes sure that he doesn’t seem too breathless by staring down at the keyboard situated against the wall, silver and gleaming. there’s not a single speck of dust on the surface or anywhere else to be seen; jungkook runs his fingers over the edge of it in wonder, amazed. like the floor, it is cool. the keys are ivory white and pitch back, gleaming underneath the soft dim lights of yoongi’s apartment.

“i play a lot,” yoongi says from behind him, catching his attention. jungkook jolts his hand away. shaking his head, yoongi says, “don’t worry, i don’t mind if you touch it. do you know how to play?”

“no,” he admits, a little embarrassed. “i didn’t get to do a lot of music when i was a kid. we played recorder in school, but...i got put into chorus, so i never learned an instrument.”

yoongi has an opened bottle of aloe vera juice in hands, mango flavored. jungkook certainly wasn’t expecting him to like a drink like that - though he’s not too sure why, yoongi gives off the coffee and beer vibe, maybe - but the knowledge of it makes him smile. “i taught myself how to play, really,” yoongi says. “no one else in my family was big on music, and none of them could quite understand why it was so important to me.” with a soft laugh, he grasps jungkook’s wrist - something thick and heavy jumps up in his throat - and tugs him forward so that he has no choice but to sit on the piano bench with yoongi. setting his drink aside on the floor, yoongi cracks his knuckles.

“don’t do that, that’s not good for you,” jungkook can’t help but input, and then smiles sheepishly when yoongi quirks an eyebrow at him.

“i care so much,” yoongi says, before pressing his fingers against the keys.

there is something definitely different about him when he speaks in music. jungkook can’t think of any other way to describe it but this: the way wind moves underneath his fingers, that’s how gentle his hands fall over ivory. soft, soothing music, like midsummer’s breath, gust of air, standing at the edge of the building and looking over the edge. staring out at the endless buildings, the sky rise, the morning sun shading world rose pink and gold and yellow. and, like the movement of the stars, jungkook cannot help but sway along with the music. his elbow meet yoongi’s, warm and alive, almost like a promise. he reaches forward, almost like the music is pulling him in, but there is nothing else that jungkook can do save for - breathing. remembering.

yoongi’s hands move down to the opposite end of the piano, where the notes are lower like steady drum beats and heart beast. his back curves like a piano player; he plays piano like a musician, all knuckles and bleeding veins. jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s doing until yoongi stops abruptly, last note ringing endlessly through the air.

“why - why did you stop?” he breathes, coming out of his throat like it’s been ripped from it. without the sound of it in his ears, jungkook feels the loss of sound like a loss of voice. yoongi’s words came through as speech, as words, a language without the requirements of language. jungkook misses it like a vice, suddenly and whole-heartedly, and jerks back to realize that the ache in his lower back is coming from sitting in the same spot for so long.

“jungkook,” yoongi starts, amused, even when his eyes are soft. “look down.”

he follows yoongi’s instructions. brushes of green and pale white grow all across their feet, a like-minded network finding each other in the distance. the brush starts from the edge of yoongi’s door all the way to their feet, where it covers a good thick inch of space. from curling over each other in intimate positions, the moonflower vines snake around jungkook’s ankles, the keyboard stand, and a couple of random wires that are plugged into the same outlet. as soon as jungkook becomes aware of them, they stop growing, but without his knowledge - without even realizing it - the vines have encased him all the way up to his knees. their weight is heavy and familiar, like an old friend. jungkook reaches forward to touch one gently, and a bud blooms at the edge of his knee.

“oh,” he says, his voice sounding distant. jungkook’s head is still swimming. “i didn’t - i didn’t know. or i didn’t...”

the moonflower seems to be telling him something. jungkook can’t quite parse out what, exactly, so he stares down at it’s bending petals as if it can somehow grow the ability to talk to him in a few words instead of nothing at all. it curls over the edge of his fingers before receding back into a still, motionless fashion on it’s vine. jungkook’s breath catches.

“hey, jungkook,” yoongi says, but he, too, sounds like he’s far away - at the end of a tunnel, maybe.

“sorry,” jungkook whispers, blinking down at flowers. all over, they grow from the edge of the vines creeping and peeping out of the floorboards now, at the edge of the wall where crown molding spans the bottom edge. jungkook waves his hand and it starts to recede down his leg, freeing his ability to move.

“nothing to be sorry for,” yoongi looks at the flowers that have begin to twist together into one long vine. he’s confused about what’s happening, exactly, and jungkook can’t tell him anything to ease the crinkle in between his brows - he’s confused too. “um...can i ask what the hell is going on?”

“it, um, happens sometimes.” jungkook isn’t proud of it, but he’s never been like his mother, who is able to keep her magic bottled up inside of her, or like his hyung, who has a near perfect control. sometimes jungkook’s emotions fluctuate. sometimes he feels more than he should. anything can do it - the sound of violins in a beautiful arrangement, the sight of the morning dawn, hearing that he’s gotten an A on the paper that he’s worked no less than a month for. sometimes he can’t help himself. jungkook is not made for keeping everything in. whenever he tries, his magic overflows to compensate.

yoongi reaches down to touch one of the vines crawling up jungkook’s leg. when his fingers come near they tend to shy away, almost like a bashful child, hiding behind jungkook’s calves. the moonflowers still bloom, lovely and white. he knows that he can get rid of them with a wave of his hand, but they add a complimentary color to yoongi’s room that he thinks fits awfully well. the moonflower dips its head slightly in agreement.

“do you know how to play the piano?” yoongi asks, moving away from the flowers. he’s still gazing at them though, a touch wistful in his scrutiny. “even a little?”

“all i ever did as a kid was choir,” jungkook admits. “i don’t know how to play. was it very difficult to learn?”

yoongi muses over his answer for a while. stretching out his fingers and rubbing at his knuckles, he leans forward to rest a bit of his weight on the instrument. “at first it was. you have to practice a lot at first. stupid stuff too - scales, all your notes, the hand movements. it doesn’t look like much at first, but i was mostly self trained. when i was learning, i used to think that all of this was useless, and that i would never really get anywhere by doing these exercises over and over. proved myself wrong,” he admits, playing a soft chord. “it builds you up. your fingers memorize the spaces in between the keys, the sound of each note, and every little nook in between. you need to, if you want to be able to play with everything you have. at least, that’s how it was for me.”

“do you think you could...teach me?”

there is a general buzz in yoongi’s room. it doesn’t sound like the hum of magic, or the undercurrent of wind, like it does in jungkook’s place. instead, there’s a low, faint hum. it’s most likely the heater, but against the sudden silence, it’s a louder backdrop than anything jungkook has ever heard.

“on one condition,” yoongi says abruptly, moving jungkook out of his own embarrassed thoughts - of course yoongi wouldn’t be able to teach him, he’s probably busy with his own life, ugh what were you thinking - “teach me how to grow that?”

he points to someone on his far windowsill. jungkook follows his line of sight to spot the darkness of the night outside the glass, as well as a slate gray curtain and white window panes. at the edge of a small windowsill, there’s a dark earthenware pot with small, geometrical designs in cornflower blue. the soil looks dark and fresh, well fertilized. it doesn’t look dry either, which is why it makes no sense to see the little wilted and cracked stem barely rising from the edge.

it’s dying, jungkook can feel it in his bones. he doesn’t even need to try and talk to it; he’s already got a good idea of it’s last dregs of life, falling and fading fast. the sun is just enough to help it survive, the way the sun flushes warm into jungkook’s cheeks on a winter day.

“it was a buttercup,” yoongi admits. “i tried growing it, like i said - “

“i’ll help you, hyung,” jungkook says, finding a smile grow hesitantly at the corners of his mouth. he turns to face yoongi again, his fingers sparking with magic. it’s a nice mix, music and magic and mulch. “i can help you grow.”

“was that a crack at my height?”

“no, i meant - i meant the flower!”

“okay,” yoongi says dubiously, but cracks up a moment later. the vines start to climb down jungkook’s legs as he joins in on yoongi’s laughter, searching for his warmth instead, like a blossom still waiting to bloom.

Chapter Text

taehyung drops by his apartment on a sunny afternoon. jungkook flips through the channels on his television, finally finding a moment to himself after working nonstop for the past few days. not only does he feel mentally exhausted, he feels physically tired, too. he hasn’t seen anyone from their group for a while; there e had been a moment where he texted taehyung and jimin at the same time, but in the end he’d been placed in a group chat that was immediately put on mute for his own survival. jungkook doesn’t know if he really wants to be social right about now. mostly, he just wants to stuff his face with sweets and spend a day watching music shows. if it’s possible to have a lingering headache for a study spree, like it’s some kind of viral disease, then he’s pretty sure he’s contagious.

his phone starts blowing up sometime when he’s in the middle of finding a show to watch, all of them texts from taehyung. he’s demanding jungkook open up and let him in. after jungkook throws his phone aside and ignores him for a while, taehyung texts him again. the bright light of his phone catches jungkook’s attention long enough to read taehyung’s text message: he’s not going to find any shows on right now because they cancelled his favorite singing competition for this season anyway, so jungkook should just open up and let him inside. jungkook reaches forward and grabs his phone with a scowl.

he doesn’t stomp his way to the door, but it’s a close thing, jungkook swings it open and demands, “what do you mean they’re cancelling this season?”

“oh, i’m not 100% sure,” taehyung says breezily, taking his hands out of his pockets to casually pluck one of the buttercups off the door. “but it might. like every show might - no, wait, don’t close the door!” his lofty tone quickly changes when he notices that jungkook isn’t hesitating to lock him out.

“hyung, i just want to rest today,” he grumbles, but jungkook’s eyes are wide and he blinks slowly, a clear indication of just how tired he is. taehyung seems to pause for a moment, rethinking whatever he had come here to drag jungkook into, but then something settles across his expression. “can i come in?”

jungkook leaves the door open.

“we were going to go to this club,” taehyung says as he enters breezily. “and i know that you’re super against having fun and being social in sticky places - yes, i know you never told me that, you’ll get used to me knowing - but i swear, it’s going to be great tonight.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker to the wooden clock hanging on the left side of his room. “it’s... three pm?”

this, of all things, is what throws taehyung for a loop. “oh, is it?” he double checks his phone. “shit, you’re right. uh, somehow i thought it was seven pm? don’t ask.”

“i’ll get used to it?” jungkook echoes, crossing his arms. he’s in his boxers, which feels a little bit too vulnerable and a little too open for his taste. one of the vines of the plants above start to curl around dangerously, so jungkook swats at it to get it to calm down. “what if i don’t get used to it?”

“in most worlds, people do,” taehyung says, unfazed. “so, does that mean you’re going to come with us? it’ll be lots of fun. alcohol, some music, dancing, and - well, a surprise!”

he thinks it over; jungkook has the choice of staying home and working on miscellaneous things, like talking to his flowers a bit more or working on his new pet project, or even watching the piano playlist that yoongi had sent him two days ago, or going through another marathon of gundam. his legs ache and his knees are starting to creak a little from how long he’s been sitting still in one place. taehyung’s eyes are wide and imploring, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. if he could, he looks like he’d want to put his hands out and give him the puppy dog eyes.

“sure, why not,” jungkook finally sighs. “it sounds like fun, sort of. is it okay if i take a nap beforehand?”

“oh yeah! you’ll be too cranky otherwise,” taehyung snickers. “alright, see you! that’s all i really wanted to say, since jimin was gonna forget to ask you otherwise. be ready by six!”

“i thought you said it was seven?”

“i’m mentally calibrating myself,” taehyung informs him. “this gives me time to tell jimin about the stack of puppies in the umbrella. gotta go!”

by the time jungkook finishes saying “what?” taehyung is already out the door.

despite what the other says, he highly doubts he’ll ever get used to that. jungkook shakes his head and closes the door, scratching at his hip. a strange headache builds up at the edge of his temple. for a moment, he allows his head to rest against flat plane of the door, trying his hardest not to let the feeling of overwhelming tiredness get to him. something tickles his cheek a moment after, gently probing.

jungkook turns a little to see the wisteria vines trying to calm him down. they haven’t started to flower yet. “i’m okay, but that was dangerous. he wasn’t a threat.”

for a moment, his wisteria does nothing. a rush of affection followed by a placated hum pulls at jungkook’s magic like a livewire. he holds his breath until the vines recede back to the top of the room; if jungkook had not been careful, there would be a bigger mess on his hands. he needs to figure out how get everyone to realize that they can’t just barge in on him or surprise him. more for their sake than his. the only time jungkook has seen his plants so docile was in the incident with yoongi, where the entire wall had disappeared. even now, he’s unsure if that had been because jungkook didn’t feel quite as on edge, or because the building’s magic had negated his own.

the wisteria curls back toward the ceiling. jungkook runs a hand through his hair and heads to his bedroom with sluggish steps for a nap.

when he wakes up later on to the sound of construction outside - interspersed with car horns and other miscellaneous white noise - jungkook feels his head pound against the inside of his temple. his body is heavy, tongue thick in his mouth. his phone has been ringing with an alarm for the past five minutes, but it’s only when he reaches over to tap his fingers impatiently on the surface does it shut up. he rolls over and stares up at the ceiling blankly, cool air hitting his legs from the slightly open window.

there’s a lot of texts from taehyung and jimin separately, both of them asking about whether or not he’s coming tonight. despite the flush of warmth from inclusion, jungkook’s mind is a mush of half-formed answers and a low buzz. sitting up makes his bones creak; pulling his hands to rub at the corner of his eyes rests on the hinges of his elbows. his whole body, a temple of fastidiousness. jungkook rubs at his joints to bring the cold out of them.

his phone starts to ring. jungkook stares at it for a moment before letting it go on, figuring that it’s another random caller that he sometimes gets, wanting to sell him insurance and bank deals. it stills for a moment - silence ringing in the air - when the ringing finally recedes, but then starts back up with a noise so sharp and resentful that jungkook startles a little.

“oh my god,” he groans, turning over to pick it up. “hello?”

“jungkook,” seokjin’s voice comes through the other end, each syllable perfectly formed as if they were presents, “you’re coming with us tonight, right? we’re going to this club downtown - “

“yeah, hyung, i’m coming,” he yawns afterward, making a little sleepy sound. “is it at seven?”

“yes! are you sleeping? jungkook, it’s like 5 in the afternoon - “

“nappin’,” jungkook mumbles, burying his face in his pillow again.

“jungkook!”

at seokjin’s very loud and insistent insistence, jungkook rolls out of bed and takes a good look at himself in the mirror. it’s getting chillier as the days go by outside, with the temperature dropping a couple of degrees the closer they get to december. jungkook pulls out one of his warmest sweaters - dark navy blue with white stripes - and matches it with a pair of dark blue jeans and his boots. it isn’t so cold to need a jacket right now, so jungkook forgoes it. the clothes all rest in a messy pile on his bed as he heads to the bathroom to take a shower.

he’s probably in there longer than he needs to be, letting the water run down his back. his fingers are pruned at the tips and his shoulders and cheeks are flushed from the hot water, but he feels a lot more awake than before. his head isn’t pounding as bad, either, and jungkook can see himself going out and having some fun. he’s never been to a club before, but ... there’s a first time for everything, right?

he doesn’t know what to do when it comes to going to club - how to act, how to be. he supposes that there has to be a certain way to look, but all the knowledge he has of clubs is coming from dramas and stories from his cousins. in busan, the only club that they had bothered to go to was the one attached to a diner, and that was taken over by the fishermen that would drag their rubber boots a mile away from the shore just to stay there. popular clubs and places to hang out in busan would often be for people who were of legal age, and no matter how much jungkook might have wanted to satiate his curiosity, he had been too busy with magic - and his cheeks would have given him away immediately.

he’s lost a lot of baby weight, jungkook convinces himself. he pats his face, and then runs his hands down the line of his jaw. his jaw is sharper, definitely. a moment passes. he squishes his cheeks together and lets out a heavy, long breath.

after wiping down his face and putting on something to cover up the more obvious blemishes on his face, jungkook makes sure to add a bit of smokiness to his waterline and make sure that he’s got at least a little bit of lip tint. that’s the farthest he goes with makeup at any given day, but he’s sure that if he really wanted to - or found the motivation - he could do something nicer. as it is, he’s stuffing his arms into the sweater and searching around listlessly for his socks before finding them in a rolled up ball on the windowsill. for a moment, all he can do is stare. he must have been half asleep to put them there.

his hair is drying nicely and hangs a little wet on his eyes, which he doesn’t bother to change. it’ll dry by itself, anyways. grabbing his phone, wallet, and keys, he heads back to his kitchen to chug down a bottle of water. something about his nerves leaves him feeling restless, like there’s something crawling underneath the surface of his skin. jungkook thumbs through all his notifications - most of them from the previously muted group chat - only stopping around twenty texts in when he spots his name.

taehyung and jimin are mentioning something about jungkook coming tonight, and seokjin responds with surprise. hoseok sends a sticker of a duck cheering, and the other two - yoongi and namjoon - haven’t answered (or even looked at it, depending on the read stickers. jungkook has a moment of pity for their notifications). when he’s just about finished catching up, taehyung texts, you’re ready right now, aren’t you?

he blinks. quickly looking around his apartment to see if there’s anyone spying in on him, jungkook does a cursory sweep with his magic, reaching out for his plants. when nothing out of the ordinary comes back to him, he turns back to his phone with an unimpressed glance. he doesn’t want to admit it, but the more he’s in taehyung’s company, the more he’s starting to get used to this.

i’m ready to leave, he types, seokjin-hyung gave me a wake up call.

oh, those are the shit, jimin says. did he threaten to castrate you with a rusty carving knife if you didn’t wake up in ten?

no? what the fuck

he was too sleepy to pay attention to my creatively worded threats, seokjin replies, and jungkook can almost hear the sulking edge to his words. such disrespect.

taehyung sends an emoji that goes “wah wah wah”. jungkook grins at it. he gently waters a couple of his plants before wiping his hands down on a spare towel and grabbing he rest of his things. the first place that he heads to is taehyung’s apartment, a place that the rest of them rarely sees - apparently, taehyung keeps himself busy in there, and no one really wants to figure out with what - making sure that he has his keys on him. taehyung flings open the door before jungkook can ring the doorbell.

“good, you’re here on time,” the other says a bit breathlessly. with a wide grin, taehyung reaches forward to ruffle jungkook’s hair, coming away with damp fingers. “we’re meeting jimin at the front of the building tonight. pro-tip; don’t drink anything alcoholic tonight.”

“why? is something bad going to happen?”

“no, because you’re underage,” he says cheerfully, “and if you drink, something bad will definitely happen to the rest of us. give it a couple months, yeah?” he ignores jungkook’s groan. “i know you want to drink your beer, you big baby, but you’re gonna hate the taste of beer for the most part anyways.”

“i don’t know if you’re lying to me or not anymore,” jungkook despairs.

“that’s half the power,” taehyung smirks. closing the door behind him, he pulls at the cuffs of his brown leather jacket and smooths over the nape of his neck. jungkook finds his fingers reaching to the edge of his own collar in a strange mimic of the boy in front of him, scratching at the edge of his hairline. when they head outside, it’s surprisingly not too chilly. any shivers he’s getting is from the wind cooling down his wet hair.

jimin is already standing outside, hands shoved into his pockets. his hair is styled nicely, all combed back and parted, looking softer than jungkook has ever seen it. he greets them with a wide smile as soon as they come into view, smacking the side of taehyung’s hand when he holds it out. “i hope neither of you had a lot to eat, since we’re going to be chowing down tonight!”

“who even talks like that,” taehyung scoffs, before reaching over to sling an arm over his shoulders. “don’t worry, jiminie, we’re going to eat even if we’re full.”

“namjoon hyung is paying,” jimin tells jungkook, grinning wide and free. “usually we’ll pay for our own meals, but since namjoon’s got that huge commission, he’s taking us out..”

“such a good hyung,” taehyung sighs happily. they’re stagnating around the edge of the sidewalk; jungkook hangs around for a moment, hesitant - and completely unaware of what direction they have to go in - but as soon as he gets into arms reach, taehyung puts his other arm around jungkook’s shoulder. jungkook gets smushed up against taehyung’s shoulder as the other cheerfully starts hauling them down the sideway; jimin meets his eye from where he’s also stuck underneath taehyung, and they share a moment of fond indignation.

“hyung, i can’t breathe,” jungkook complains. “at least let me walk by myself.”

“i’m afraid you’ll get yourself stuck in a pothole, jungkookie!”

“are you trying to say something about busan?” jimin starts, pinching taehyung in the side. “you really want to go there when both me and jungkook are here, from busan, and much more powerful than you - “

“um, i basically know everything, how is that not powerful - “

jungkook lets out a snort, and when the both of them turn to him, he goes mildly, “well, you’re never sure which everything is right, so.”

“ouch,” jimin grins, cackling when taehyung holds a dramatic palm to his heart, acting wounded. jungkook hides his smile behind his covered palms, shivering a little at the wind biting at his hair and his face, but all together happy. a lightness starts at the base of his throat and moves up as laughter, sinks down to his stomach like clouds, pit pattering rain and uneasiness and excitement.

“it’s a good thing that we’re walking,” jimin says. “work off all the calories we’re going to eat tonight.”

“hell yeah!”

jungkook could go for a burger, now that he thinks about it. despite himself, he finds that he’s already looking forward to the rest of the night, even if it means being outside of his comfortable house. at least for one day, jungkook thinks, he can leave the comforts of his bed and his sofa alone. it’s a little bit too much at first, but with taehyung’s persistence and jimin’s easy countenance, he finds that being social doesn’t feel bad at all. it’s not like he’s meeting new people; just hanging out with friends.

their destination begins to loom on the corner of the street. it’s illuminated by soft fairy lights and antiques hanging off the front of the store. jungkook’s gaze catches onto the warm browns and earthy tones of the front, painted a dark chocolate brown with a bit of exposed brick here and there. the title of the place is some english name that’s printed against the stained glass window of the front. there are a few wooden tables at the front that are mildly occupied, each one their own little world with an umbrella over the top.

“this isn’t exactly a dive bar,” jimin starts, “but it used to be some kind of bar, i think. they repurposed it so that it would look like a place cool hipsters would go to.”

“i bet you my bear sticker collection that seokjin-hyung chose this place,” taehyung says, wiggling his eyebrows. “this feels like the kind of pretentiousness that he would like.”

“as long as it’s expensive and good, i don’t care,” jimin says cheerfully. taehyung scoffs, going off a little about the importance of authenticity and quality, and jimin scrunches his nose while meeting jungkook’s eyes. he sends back a small smile. once they get inside, jungkook’s shoulders relax from the burst of warmth that he feels. maybe he had been indirectly trying to conserve his energy outside? he should have brought another jacket with him, damn.

seokjin is sitting at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink. he’s at a big - big - table, enough to fit all of them. hoseok is already there next to him, showing seokjin something on his phone. the other two seats are empty, but jungkook can see jackets piled across the back of one. as soon as seokjin sees them, he brightens, waving his hand to motion them closer.

“my favorite hyung and my second favorite hyung!” taehyung starts, mouth pulling up in his signature smile. “how are you guys? where’s the food at?”

“wait, which one of us is the favorite?” seokjin asks. “is it me?”

“it’s me, obviously,” hoseok scoffs, before fistbumping taehyung. jungkook sits down next to jimin and, in a true pavlovian response, feels his stomach grumble at the sight of empty dishes in front of them and a menu of appetizing pictures. it looks like hoseok and seokjin have already demolished something while waiting for the rest of them.

“i beg to differ,” seokjin cocks his head to the side, sharing an amused look with hoseok.

“what’s the occasion?” he asks, a tad bit shy, crossing his ankles underneath the table. jungkook pats the space behind his ear to make sure no accidental sprouts have gone up without him noticing; he gets wildflowers there when he’s feeling shy, sometimes. there’s a general murmur running over the top of his head, from the way everyone speaks in hushed voices to the light tinkling of laughter muffled behind warm palms. jungkook’s opinion of the night is quickly shifting. it’s the kind of place he’s always wanted to go to, the kind of place he pictures in his head when he thinks about little hole in the wall places in seoul. it’s always been a desire of his to find them, and while being here is awesome in itself, half the fun is discovering them, he thinks.

“you’ll see,” seokjin says a tad bit mysteriously. he reaches out for the huge jug of water with a colorful prism on the bottom, reflecting the little light in the place.

“is it because namjoon-hyung’s commission?” jimin asks, bringing up that little detail from earlier. “because i have to say, spending money on us isn’t a new thing.” hoseok cuffs the side of his head as jimin laughs, bright and loud.

“that’s different,” seokjin clicks his tongue. “but you’re not wrong. buy all the shit you can before he comes back - jimin, we’re putting you on an alcohol limit. don’t even think about touching a glass of wine.”

taehyung chortles; from the resigned but also indignant pull of jimin’s brow, jungkook can tell that this happens often. he hides a smile.

they go from listening to seokjin wax poetry about one of his professors (apparently most of them in his department are hot headed, so having a mentor that reflected everything back with a slightly dull voice and a sarcastic quip is mind blowing to him) to hoseok giving them all a pretty show with his fingers wiggling in the air; the water in the pitcher follows his fluid movements, twisting this way and that, trapping dim golden light in a clear, malleable prism. hoseok makes them take shapes and dance around the table, spraying jimin gently and wetting the tip of jungkook’s nose before flitting away like some sprite.

the first time he does it, jungkook nearly has a heart attack. quickly looking around the room to make sure no one else is watching, he hisses, “hyung! what are you doing?”

“don’t worry about it, jungkookie!” hoseok laughs, flicking his fingers. his little sprites form beads that spin around the table. “this place is magical, you know?”

“ugh, hyung is so lame,” jimin says, but laughs at his over-exaggerated voice anyway.

it’s only then that jungkook realizes that little undercurrent of energy - a zing, a movement across the edge of his skin - is because of the amount of magic that’s present all around them. there’s no light fixtures but there’s illumination from somewhere. there’s aren’t any waiters and waitresses, not even a hint of bustling staff, but somehow food is appearing on tables and glasses are being refilled. when he looks a little bit more, peers past every little veil, jungkook can see the threads of magic woven into the very fabric of every table. his fingers lay pressed against the edge of his table.

his hyungs are amused at his flushed, wide eyed amazement. jungkook tries to tone it down by receding back and looking abashed, but he can’t help but peek around, enamored with the world around him.

in busan, their magical people are made of sea-water and ocean breeze, water and wind sprites dancing in between the grains of sand and the ephemeral calm. jungkook recalls the taste of salt at the back of his tongue, water lapping at his ankles, the horizon so small he can cup it in his palms. here the magical pools are different by spades, like entire groves of space, all running deep like veins. maybe it’s only him; maybe only he sees the startling difference. maybe to the others, it’s become such second nature that the gleaming cracks in their earth feel natural. jungkook’s feet have never been placed on solid ground for long; perhaps that’s why he’s felt so restless in busan, wanting mud and soil and earth, wanting sunlight and water and growth.

a sprout tips over from his fingertips like water topped over the edge of a glass. a little mint plant. jungkook stares at it blankly for a minute before closing a cupped hand over it - to hide, maybe - but mostly to crush it underneath his hands, hide off errant magic, but... his fingers curl gently over it until it’s stopped growing. when he removes his fingers, taehyung takes notice of the new greenery present with them.

“whoa, jungkookie, did you make that?” he reaches out to touch one of the leaves like it’s a malleable, delicate thing. jungkook wants to tell him that they’re much stronger than they look, but the words stick in his throat, thick and foreign.

“it’s lovely,” seokjin says, smiling a bit fondly. he’s too far to touch it up close, but a soft cursory glance is enough. jungkook flushes even further, glimmer of pride burning low in his stomach.

he runs a finger up the side of the stem, lets it bloom. jungkook likes making things bloom.

namjoon joins them all a second later, dressed up in a nice button up shirt and well worn jeans. even with the easy atmosphere, something sophisticated rests in the way he has his hair styled and parted; it makes him look older, more mature. jungkook reaches up to fiddle with his bangs a little self consciously at the sight of him, wondering if he should maybe change his hair too.

“the man of the hour returns,” hoseok says, holding out for a fist bump that namjoon gladly reciprocates. “how is yoongi-hyung?”

“nervous, but alright,” namjoon replies, and jungkook realizes with a jolt - that’s what’s missing. the empty chair left to his right is because yoongi isn’t here.

“where is yoongi-hyung?” jimin asks, verbalizing the unsaid question on jungkook’s mind. his eyes light up, and then - “oh, is this the place - ?”

a commotion from their left stops any further conversation. a couple of people clap their hands in anticipation, already knowing what’s going to happen. jungkook follows along curiously; namjoon is the most enthusiastic, grinning bright. the lights overhead dim a bit, and near the back - yes, they’re sitting quite a bit far away - jungkook can see a stage materializing at the right corner of the room. from the warm carpeted floor, swathed with swirling oriental flowers and brass accents, rises a little stage about half a meter up. a woman hops on top; her smile is a curved secret, and when she raises out an arm to call for everyone’s attention with one outstretched hand, everyone follows her movement.

“hiya everyone!” she says, voice ringing throughout the restaurant even when there’s no mic. “so glad to see everyone here today! you guys are enjoying your night, right?”

“you look great, unnie!” someone yells from a table near her, and the girl laughs brightly.

“thank you! i try hard when i’m on the job,” she admits. there are iridescent glitters around her eyes that jungkook can spot from here, winking even when she’s giving them all knowing stare. an entertainer through and through. “ready for your dinner entertainment?”

a couple of laughs, a few sounds of encouragement. namjoon claps especially loud, beaming.

“thank you so much! for our singer of the night, please give a polite hand for suran!”

a pretty, tall girl with bangles all up her wrist comes to the front of the stage. her eyes are a pretty, bright brown and when she blinks there’s shimmer on her eyelids. everyone’s eyes are on her as she waves at the crowd, gathering all their attention, but jungkook can only look at the person behind her - a familiar face cloaked in a dark gray henley and black jeans, sleek dress shoes and a watch on his right hand. yoongi’s dark hair makes up his shadowy visage, but he catches sight of their table and gives them all a half smile at their enthusiasm. he meets jungkook’s eyes for a half second too, glimmering in the semi dark.

jungkook looks away first, his heart pounding strangely. instead, he focuses on the table in front of him, playing with the frayed edges of the tablecloth.

without looking at yoongi, he’s able to hear without distraction, without bias. the soft crooning sounds of a woman’s voice is iminent - she dominates the stage, but then - there is the accompanying piano music that follows.

somehow jungkook - jungkook gets tunnel vision but for hearing, pinpointing himself to those little notes. in his mind’s imagery, he can clearly see yoongi’s fingers deftly moving across the piano keys, pressing down on each slender key before moving onto the next. jungkook only has the one afternoon in a sunlight background to abade his sudden urge to see yoongi play; there’s no way that yoongi could be looking now, right? he feints a look upward, flickering gaze moving from one person to the next.

it’s fun to see his friends enjoying themselves - enraptured, by the quality of the music and the way the beats flow from one end of the room to the other. jungkook can reach out and pluck them from the air, stuck them in his pocket or in his throat for safe keeping. he inhales and chances a glance at the piano in the back, where - well, it’s not really a piano, is it? more like a keyboard, flat and easy to carry around, but none the less important. yoongi is the only musical accompaniment. while all eyes are on suran, jungkook can’t help but look at the man behind her, playing his piano.

with a jerk, jungkook realizes what had been so wrong this entire time: yoongi’s arms, while covered by the sleeves of his shirt, are smooth even at his wrists. not a single hint of ink can be seen from his wrists to his collarbone, and that - that is certainly odd. he moves toward the lower register of his piano, eyes slightly closed, mouth parted.

this is different than the yoongi that had been teaching him piano, hands gentle while teaching. this yoongi knows what he’s doing; and as a result, they blend together into a harmonious couple rather than an instrument and its player. jungkook’s hands curl at the edge of his thigh.

suran’s voice floats into a high crescendo before moving down in a jazzier, smoother tune. blinking, jungkook’s attention shifts to her, and he can’t help but appreciate the way she so effortlessly manages to gather the crowd into the palm of her hand. if he didn’t know any better, he would say that it’s magic. as she finishes off with a hum, yoongi’s fingers pressing down on the last key with finality, the music fades into the dim and the spell is abruptly broken.

from behind them, someone stands up and starts whistling.

a chorus of applause and well wishes follow. suran takes a bow, moving in all directions to please all of her audience, just like an idol would, jungkook stares at the edge of her mike with - awe, maybe, and even a little envy. his hand travels to the base of his throat and down to his lungs, where - yes, well, singing has always been a secondary habit. something to pass the time, something to make his plants happier. they love it when he sings to them.

yoongi and suran do another song, but this time, another person joins them; a guitarist, and then a girl with a saxophone, and then someone else with a cello. they go through a total of five songs, each of them a little bit different than the last. somewhere in between, they’re served their meal - jungkook doesn’t recall ordering, but one of them must have gotten him something - and namjoon calls over for a refill on their water pitcher. looking at his food, jungkook feels ravenous, but is pulled back constantly to the singer up on stage. her voice is a lull for all of them; he spots quite a few other people trying to fight off the same urge.

he picks at his soup well until she’s done with the last chord, giving everyone a wondrous goodbye before hurrying off stage. jimin claps loudly for her and seokjin has all the snaps in the world. jungkook turns to his stew, finally able to focus for once; his stomach rumbles so loud that he forgets to look for yoongi in the aftermath.

“that was great,” seokjin says, enthused, to namjoon.

“it really was. suran has definitely improved in her vocal technique, and it shows,” namjoon praises, face bright. his eyes curve up when he’s talking about something he likes. jungkook blows on the end of his spoon to cool down a mouthful of soup. “i wonder how long she’s been practicing. yoongi-hyung was all for not coming today, but in the end he changed his mind, and i knew that if we didn’t show up -

“ - we would have never seen the eighth wonder of the world,” hoseok finishes. “thanks, namjoon. damn, i wish i could have brought a card or something!”

jimin snorts. “and what would it say, exactly? congrats on finally playing in public after three months, xoxo good luck and see you again in another three?”

“took the words out of my mouth,” hoseok saves gravely.

yoongi settles down in the seat in between jungkook and hoseok. his fingers, piano fingers, and still drumming; jungkook notices them twitch, placed on the table, and then turns away. it’s odd to look at someone else’s hands, isn’t it?

a downpour of appreciation and praise come from all sides of their table. seokjin starts it with going over the finer points of yoongi’s performance, lauding his ability to follow the mood really well and so on. namjoon says a lot about their song composition, hoseok commends him for writing the song - wait, what - and jimin and taehyung are both chattering on endlessly about their favorite parts.

and jungkook? jungkook catches yoongi’s eye and says, “it was really great, hyung,” the words clogging up his throat with all that he has yet to say. the rest of it falls away and chips underneath the weight of his own insecurity, curling underneath his fingers, thinking endlessly about the evening in yoongi’s apartment with their fingers a whisper apart. jungkook doesn’t quite know why he’s thinking about this, or why he’s thinking about it so ardently. he and yoongi haven’t been friends for long, if jungkook can even call what they have friendship. perhaps not the same type of friendship that jimin and taehyung have, endlessly leaning onto each other, but the friendship of two people who have just met - who have found themselves in the same circles - who are constantly, perhaps, in each other’s solar system.

and yet - yet, yoongi only responds to him, eyes focused on jungkook’s. for that split second when their eyes meet, the sound of piano music swells in the distant wave of memory, crashing onto the shore; “thanks, jungkook.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker down to yoongi’s bare wrists.

his mouth parts despite himself. your tattoos, he wants to say, point out what is missing from an otherwise slightly-whole-picture. yoongi always covers himself up with long sleeves and coats, not...not skin. never erasing away all the cogs and wheels that make up his machine.

but jungkook doesn’t ask. yoongi knows himself better than anyone else here; jungkook has known him for a month or so.

he quietly finishes his meal, lingering on the laughter of others and wondering where his has gone.

/

finals week creeps up on him faster than he can think about it. before he knows it, jungkook is staring at the end of a dark tunnel, and there’s nothing on the other side except for a pile of homework and exams. he’s the one that’s trying to catch up, he thinks darkly, but the tunnel only gets longer and longer. he would like to strangle both the inanimate tunnel and himself for making such a comparison. honestly, jungkook doesn’t know how he does it half the time.

spending time with his friends goes down by a lot - it’s not that jungkook doesn’t want to, because god does he want to, but his finals are lagging on the tail end of the week and he’s suffering through having a lot of time and deciding that he needs to study more even though he thinks he knows most of the material and just giving up entirely and watching an entire season of i can see your voice. sometimes he’s halfway through an episode before he realizes that he still has to finish this or that, or when he’s recalling something from his notes he can’t seem to recall the details, so doesn’t that mean he has to study a bit more? a lot more?

it always ends up with him at his desk again, legs folding up on the chair and his back hunched over. he has carpal tunnel pain and he hasn’t gone out in three days to buy anything else but tea, instant dinners, and a bag of chocolate. he’s already worked through the chocolate. the tea is slowly become a second contender for stuffing his anxiety underneath his appetite.

seokjin finishes with his finals first, but that’s because a lot of his classes at this point are project based rather than paper or exam based - he finishes up presentations and other things near the beginning of finals week and hits them all up with a sunglasses emoji on the group chat, which really, really rankles jungkook’s bones. he won’t admit to sending back a huffy face, but it’s there, immortalized in digital permanence. hidden underneath all of jimin’s shocked emojis, followed by hoseok’s middle finger emojis, enhanced by taehyung’s litany of sadly colored strawberry stickers. jungkook didn’t know those existed in the kakaotalk store.

namjoon is the next to finish, pretty much on par with seokjin when it comes to his finals work, and then yoongi. jimin, taehyung, and hoseok are the only ones that have late finals like him, but at least theirs are slightly more interesting - after all, they have actual magic classes that have to do with their abilities. jungkook is still taking his prerequisites.

in the end, he sends a quick, i’m going to disappear for a couple days ^^ and leaves it at that, muting the entire chat and moving the app into a different group so he won’t be tempted to look at it.

the first exam he has is on the class he shares with yoongi and namjoon, who both look far more well rested than jungkook does. they share a couple of greetings in class but are placed too far apart by chair to actually do more than that; by the time jungkook finishes, namjoon has already left (finished early) and yoongi is still there (finished late) but jungkook doesn’t want to stick around longer than he has to. he rewards himself with a meal from the cafeteria that’s stupidly overpriced and four hours of sleep back at his apartment.

the rest of the week goes by as something similar.

when he’s finished with his last class’ final, stepping out of the classroom feels like someone has removed a heavy weight on his chest. jungkook is able to breathe for however much that’s worth, intaking the crisp winter air with a gasp and exhaling it just as quick. they have a good two weeks before it’s christmas, and then a couple more days before new years. he’s staying over at school for winter break, because - well, his mother is taking a quick call to tokyo to deal with something and his hyung isn’t going to be home anyways. his dad will be out with a couple of guys to just catch up, military buddies, and jungkook really doesn’t want to get in the middle of that. so he’s staying for the winter break.

he doesn’t take any winter classes, which frees up a lot of time to wander around seoul and discover all its secrets. the only problem with this ideal is - one: jungkook rarely gets out of bed for the first entire week after finals, declaring undying love to his blanket, and two: pretty much everyone is leaving.

jungkook stares at the wood floor, a little uncomfortable, as he’s sitting in jimin’s room and watching him pack up. he flits from one side of the room to another, grabbing things from all sides of the place to fill up both luggages he has for his two month break in busan. he’ll be there for a month and then spend a good part of january in jeju with some friends. jungkook had wanted to give jimin some things to bring back to his mom.

“what are you going to end up doing by yourself here?” jimin asks breathlessly in between his endless movements. jungkook appreciates how seamlessly he can go from one end of the room to the other, never staggering. it makes sitting in his corner on the floor much easier to stomach, and he never has to look jimin in the eye. he’s been trying to convince jungkook to buy a last minute train ticket and hop on the same train as him back home.

jungkook tries hard not to think about an empty house waiting.

“i’ll figure something out,” he says halfheartedly. “maybe i can study for next semester?”

jimin shoots him a look - half amused, half incredulous.

“or play overwatch,” he admits.

“don’t spend any money on boxes,” jimin tells him crossly. he throws a couple of shirts into his luggage without even looking at them, letting them bunch up in the middle into a huge mountain of cloth. “i remember i got a shit ton of money on year for chuseok and i blew it all on games - the next week, there was a new game i really wanted to buy, but i was basically broke again, so.”

“it would have gone to games anyway,” jungkook says. his fingers twitch a little looking at jimin’s endless flitting about, dumping more and more things onto the bed. “uh, hyung - are you sure that’s all going to fit?”

“what?” jimin turns to him, distracted, from where he’s holding up some stringy red thing. jungkook turns his eyes away, feeling a mortified flush rise to his ears. “oh, yeah, i just close the top and sit on it for a while. it’ll fit!”

jungkook sighs, long suffering, and starts folding.

once he’s done and they have everything packed up and in order - well, the luggages, certainly not jimin’s room, - jimin pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously on it for a while, ignoring jungkook completely. that’s fine by the younger, who - exhausted - settles himself down on jimin’s bed and groans, just thinking about being alive for a minute. he should really take care of his youth better. jungkook’s wrists ache.

jimin finally puts his phone away the moment he asks jungkook, “want hyung to buy you something for dinner?” jungkook rolls over, peeking at him through a small crack in his eye. jimin raises an eyebrow. jungkook raises one back.

they get mcdonalds.

/

jimin isn’t the only one to leave. namjoon goes next, buying a plane ticket to visit his parents off in shanghai, where the both of them work for some company or the other. he’s smart, tall, and a chaebol; jungkook wonders why namjoon still wears yellow hoodies with orange pants, then, and seokjin hisses, when you’re rich you don’t give a shit about what other people think about you. jokingly. semi-jokingly. namjoon waves his orange pants in seokjin’s face. the both of them are heading out together, having somewhere to go, and jungkook says goodbye to them at the door - before they’re heading off to the airport. it’s a nice little farewell, the least he can do for them. he’s not too sure where seokjin is going, to be quite honest.

hoseok goes next, preferring to take the bus to his hometown in gwangju. a bit of his accent pops out a little the closer they get to the bus terminal - it’s a stop on one of the larger stations, jungkook doesn’t mind tagging along on this one - almost like the closer he gets physically to his hometown, the more of it it shows in him, reflecting itself across his sun-warmed features. jungkook tells him to drink a lot of water and keep himself healthy. hoseok tells him to practice dancing a little; when they come back, he and jimin will teach jungkook some girl group dances. he looks forward to it.

the only people he hasn’t seen off is taehyung and yoongi. a week ago, left in jimin’s apartment, the other had mentioned that no one really knew taehyung’s plans until the day of, until they were counting down from the morning until the last clock rang midnight. taehyung is a see and do kind of person. usually he goes back to visit someone, jimin tells him, but he’s never sure. taehyung changes the story up each and every time.

“does he have siblings?” jungkook had asked, curious, because jimin had just finished talking about his own younger brother.

the other had shrugged, running a hand through his hair the same way he does subconsciously when he’s distracted or anxious - fingers scrunching up at the ends, messing them up even more so they stick up straight. “don’t know - he’s never mentioned.”

for the past couple of weeks, since the inception of finals, yoongi had been understandably absent. there was no sign of him in the hallways or on campus - like the man himself, it was hard to catch even his shadow. jungkook didn’t know his plans either - no one did. it seemed as though the two boys from daegu still held their cards close to the chest.

(“what do they put in the water over there?” hoseok had wondered. “something had to have made them so taciturn.”

“nice word choice there, seokie junior.”

“thank you, seokie senior.”)

but jungkook, thinking about warm hands and buttercups, ivory keys and late days, doesn’t push. doesn’t text yoongi, doesn’t knock on his door, doesn’t head to the wall that separates their spaces to press his ear against the brick and hope to hear a heartbeat. something odd and soft starts at the base of his stomach - almost uncomfortable - when he thinks about it, so he doesn’t. he just...doesn’t.

instead, jungkook thinks about things he understands; flower languages, the way roses croon to him the end of winter, the way green looks against white snow, sunflower songs of mourning for a sleeping deity. jungkook’s days are entrenched with cold, ice, sinking into his bones. it had been easy to forget about it with exams on the forefront, but now that they’re gone, he’s acutely aware of the way he can’t hear any songs when he walks down the street. how each tree is quiet down to their roots, almost silenced, how they seem to wither and retreat to their cores. sleeping. so very, very quiet. like trying to catch a breath by swallowing words so they’ll warm at least some part of him from the inside.

jungkook doesn’t like going outside when it’s winter. it’s too easy to hear his own voice in his head, growing louder and louder with each passing day.

this might play a large part as to why his plants have started to take over, he thinks. many of them disregard his quiet pleas to stay in their lane, essentially, moving over the tops of flowerpots and growing roots out of water holes. his hanging plants crawl their way through the ceiling, over the lights and the fan, casting an eerie green glow over most of his living room. some of them breathe on the floor, brushing against it gently, curling around jungkook’s ankles if he gets close enough. their leaves are always cool, but jungkook wants warmth.

he needs to find something to do, he thinks, something that will make sure he’s not going to be buried in ivy and queen anne’s lace. he needs to find something to keep his time on track as two months pass by. it can’t be like last time, jungkook thinks to himself, breathing in deep. exhale, inhale, exhale - yes, jungkook, just like that. think about the flowers growing inside of you - fleeting touch to his sternum, fingers ghosting over fever flushed skin - don’t let the magic overtake you. you control it, don’t you? don’t make it grow where it can’t.

it’s not like last time, he reminds himself. he’s breathing, he’s fine. the anxiety has lessened since finals week, so he’s - he’s fine. he practices how to breathe, imagines his lungs as a greenhouse that is open to nothingness, and exhales.

for the first week or so, he ends up watching a bunch of shows and catching up on various things. there’s a lot he’s been missing; the last five episodes to his favorite drama about a girl who can make things levitate, the last few episodes of agents of shield finally korean subbed, and a police show that he started following inanely but now is too invested in to really let go of. he wears his comfiest pajamas and spends the day on the couch, leaning back far enough to create a permanent imprint of his body there.

for the most part, jungkook expects to be here for most of break. there’s no way that he can get home in such a short amount of time, and there’s also no way he has enough money to take himself outside and find things to do other than wandering around seoul and forlornly swooning over cool indie shops. jungkook would rather save himself that heartbreak.

which is probably why karma is here to kick him in the ass in the form of one kim taehyung knocking on his door at 7:02 pm, knocking inanely on his door in the friends theme. when jungkook doesn’t answer, he quickly switches to big bang theory, and because jungkook doesn’t like big bang theory, of course he has to go up and open the door.

he’s still hugging on his couch cushions, an imprint of the threads against his right cheek, and his mouth tastes like ass, but jungkook is warm and comfortable and moving feels like a crime. he glares at taehyung, who looks all put together. his leather jacket is a bright blue with different yellow, green, and red buttons, he looks like a peacock. jungkook hates that he’s so handsome.

“okay so,” taehyung walks in as he pleases, brushing aside a vine of green that smacks him the face, “here’s the game plan. do you own a red leather jacket?”

“no,” jungkook says, perhaps a bit grumpily, but he’s still in the wallowing stage of most of his friends leaving him. he hasn’t even seen yoongi in the past few days. jungkook is not sure why he cares so much.

(of course he knows why he cares so much.)

“this is a travesty,” taehyung continues, “an affront. a crime to science. we need to find you the most perfect, the bestest, the absolute greatest red leather jacket ever.”

“no,” jungkook says again, but adds on, “leather makes my neck itchy. i don’t like it.”

taehyung tries arguing with him a bit more, but jungkook is still sleepy, so he just faceplants back onto his bed. seriously, he’s tired by like 8 pm nowadays. he’s so old.

“fine, i’ll just choose your outfit for you,” taehyung huffs, heading toward his closet without permission. not that jungkook cares, anyway. he snuggles deeper into his sheets and closes his eyes again, warmth radiating from that one spot on his pillow that has been well slept on. jungkook would hate to cheat on it with other spots.

“we’re going to hongdae today,” taehyung is still staying, throwing things onto his bed. he feels heavy weight on his legs, but he’s too tired to really do anything about it. “there’s this new soft serve place i wanna visit. it’s vegan, too, which means that they make the ice cream with soy milk, which is great because i’m pretty sure i’m lactose intolerant, but it’s six pm and i don’t want to go to hongdae by myself and you’re coming with me.”

“why,” jungkook groans.

“because i want you to.”

in the end, jungkook allows himself to be dragged out of bed by taehyung,

most of his following along is sleepily done. jungkook is still half dazed and not quite all there, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. taehyung wrangles an outfit on him somehow - nothing too special, a hoodie and a pair of comfortable black jeans - before practically pushing him toward the door. jungkook doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye to his tiny children. the door closes behind him with a final thump and all he can do is stare at it’s visage, wondering what the heck he’s doing.

“oh, um,” jungkook starts, before turning this way and that. “am i really going with you?”

taehyung’s disappointed sigh brings a flush to his cheeks, although he’s not sure why. jungkook pushes the other slightly, a little mollified, maybe a bit bashful. taehyung grins, bright and wide, and tugs on the elbow of his bright yellow hoodie before moving them both down the hall. jungkook turns back one more time - just for a moment - to see yoongi’s door there, unchanging as it’s ever been.

they stumble out of the apartment building like lost puppies, moving over one another. jungkook rubs at his chilly elbows, wishing that he wore something more substantial, but taehyung had left him with little options to change. jungkook does a cursory check to make sure that he has all of his possessions on him, just in case they’re stranded on the side of the road with nothing to do and no way to get home.

taehyung blabbers on about his new collection of gudetama stickers that he’s spent a stupid amount of money on, using the guise of “buying school supplies” to get away with an exorbitant amount of spending. jungkook gives him an appropriately judgemental look. taehyung takes it as a challenge, moving into a scarily persuasive speech about why cute stickers are needed to succeed in college.

they’re halfway to hongdae, the subway rumbling with every movement through its underground tunnels. when it’s this late at night, the express tends not to run as often. they figured that it would be easier to take the local and slowly make their way there.

“you’ve thought about this a lot, hyung,” jungkook says, impressed despite himself. “have you ever thought that if you treated your studies half as well, you’d be valedictorian?”

taehyung tsks. “i have priorities.”

what priorities, jungkook thinks, bewildered. his snort of incredulity turns into a giggle, disbelieving at how taehyung can focus on the most incessant things and still be able to get away with it.

“hyung will buy you some stickers,” taehyung says, puffing up his chest. “and then when you start using them, you’ll see that your rate of studying, the way you focus, as well as - “

“no more statistics, please.”

“jungkook!!! jungkook. listen to me.”

jungkook rubs a hand down his face. despite his outward appearance of fond exasperation, jungkook can’t help but join in on taehyung’s excitement, easily getting swept up in his childish happiness. although jungkook has mostly hung out with jimin out of everyone that he’s met so far at the building, he can’t deny that being friends with all of them has opened up his eyes to many more types of people - and types of friends. jungkook thinks about his friends back home in busan. they were always ready to get together at the moment, congregate in their little groups during school lunch breaks and recess, but when it came to staying when it actually mattered - well.

breaking out of his thoughts, jungkook blinks and mouths the words of the hongdae station announcer, purposefully smoothing over his face to seem more like an AI. taehyung laughs.

night spills over cool and easy as they exit the subway station. there are many more stores and lights to be seen here than the neighborhood their campus is located in. it’s true - at least to jungkook - that the city is much warmer than the areas around it, where there are no buildings to protect against the harsh wind. the walk to his own college campus got frighteningly cold sometimes, and jungkook isn’t a big fan of the cold.

the first place that they walk past is an instrument store. while taehyung links their arms together, jungkook’s gaze passes over the store window. the lights are still on inside; a lone female worker rests at the cash register, lazily scrolling through her phone. in the back, resting on a raised platform, a gorgeous black piano stands tall and proud. they move too quickly for jungkook to read the name printed in gold lettering on it’s lacquered surface, but he knows that it can’t be cheap.

when it fades into the coffee shop next door, jungkook stares down at the pavement and blinks. memories of yoongi’s hands over ivory keys make their way to the forefront of his mind.

there had been too much of a pull toward yoongi’s room, jungkook thinks, pressing the hand that was not occupied by taehyung to the hollow of his throat. thinking about it is suffocating.

“hey,” taehyung nudges him, effectively distracting jungkook from his own black spiral of thoughts, “want to see something cool?”

“what?”

taehyung hands him the cup of coffee in his hands - he had bought it earlier from a small cart in front of the subway station - and grabs jungkook’s elbow to lead him to the intersection. because it’s hongdae, there is an endless amount of people walking through the streets and the roads. at least here, the traffic is well maintained. taehyung shuffles his jacket further up on his shoulders and waits at one end of the street.

“don’t freak out, okay?” taehyung asks, turning to him with solemn eyes. “trust me when i say i know what i’m doing.”

“what’s that supposed to mean,” jungkook gapes, wincing when his fingers press too hard against the paper up of taehyung’s hot coffee.

the other doesn’t answer him, instead deciding to send jungkook off with a two-fingered salute. he laughs, wide and bright, before stepping back. jungkook doesn’t quite understand what he’s doing until - until taehyung is moving farther away from him, from the lit up edge of the curb, from the safe edge of the sidewalk - and still making eye contact with jungkook, the green glow of the traffic light above them garishly lights up the side of his face.

jungkook stares, horrified.

someone else beside him shrieks loud enough for it to ring in his ear. jungkook stumbles forward, taehyung’s name on the tip of his tongue, but someone else pulls him back before he can rush in after him like an idiot. taehyung laughs, wild and unrestrained, but he doesn’t - he doesn’t get hit.

even when the cars are speeding past him, whipping wind through his hair and his jacket, his expression rests on serene. he stops momentarily, and then moves backward again when he has to, all while still facing jungkook. he never gets too close, never gets too far. almost like he’s dancing. jungkook watches as taehyung spins past a lane right before a white truck passes by, not bothering to slow down at all. when it finally moves over, taehyung is on the other end of the road, grinning widely. he meets jungkook’s eyes and bows as the traffic light turns red.

it’s like someone has pumped him full of air. jungkook exhales shakily, choking a bit on nothing, before pushing himself out of the arms of the guy who had sensibly pulled him back. looking around, everyone is staring slack jawed at taehyung.

jungkook stomps over the other side of the road while taehyung waits for him, ecstatic to see his reaction. jungkook doesn’t know whether he wants to punch taehyung or babble at him about how cool that was. he’s only ever seen stuff like that in movies.

he goes for choice c: both.

jungkook aims a hard punch at taehyung’s shoulder, yelling, “what the hell, hyung, you scared the shit out of me!” before tugging at his elbow - bringing back a staggering taehyung to jungkook’s side, which, he did not hit that hard - “how did you do that?!”

taehyung groans. “jungkookie, my arms hurt. please let this poor soul go.”

“hyung!”

“i saw it happen,” he gives, tapping at his temple. “sometimes the world is weird like that, you know. i call it a parallel. in every vision, every sight, the same exact thing happens regardless of each possibility. every time the same three cars pass, the same white truck crosses, the same black car moves. a stagnancy.” taehyung chuckles at the end, removing jungkook’s hooked fingers on his sleeve. “i was never in danger, don’t worry.”

“i,” jungkook blinks, amazed, before reminding himself that he shouldn’t be acting amazed at someone else’s very dangerous tricks. “you could have still gotten hurt if you made one wrong step!”

“i never saw it happen,” taehyung replies, mellow, which makes jungkook wonder -does he sometimes see it happen?

jungkook can’t imagine looking at a street and seeing yourself walking through it, broken body on the pavement, or at the edge of a bridge and then seeing your vision fade into blue and black. all your different endings - how does someone live through that?

taehyung’s smile never fades. he points to something at the edge of jungkook’s vision, unaware of the other’s sudden mental revelation. “want to get ice cream?”

“hyung,” jungkook starts, but finds that he has nothing to say.

taehyung buys them both cones. jungkook stares at the edge of his own, watching as vanilla ice cream melts over the edge of his cone before plopping down onto his fingers. he hurriedly licks it away, unwilling to watch it go to waste. the image of taehyung flitting in between the cars remain at the forefront of his mind, even when the real person is right next to him, alive and well.

eventually all residual worries get washed away as jungkook follows taehyung down hongdae’s streets. he’s come by once or twice before, but never at night, and never long enough to truly enjoy what seoul had to offer. there was always the looming threat of another assignment, or another test, or another reading. jungkook finds that being able to walk over hongdae’s leylines and breathe in the sparks in the air fills him with ease.

they head off to a karaoke, first, singing their hearts out over stupid songs from the 90s and badly following english pop songs. jungkook’s voice cracks more often than not, and taehyung wheezes when he tries to follow a female key. both of them chortle over how bad they both are, even though jungkook doesn’t think they sound too half bad when they’re both trying.

taehyung takes a peek at his own wallet before looking over at jungkook with wide eyes. he shakes his head, wordlessly answering his question.

“guess it means food stalls for us,” taehyung says solemnly, before leading jungkook to a random food truck in the middle of the road. forget about having a craving; whatever’s there is what they’re going to eat, apparently. jungkook finds that this kind of recklessness - well, it doesn’t feel too bad at all.

they have spicy ddeokbokki and dumplings, handling two brown bags greased at the bottom with careful hands. jungkook finds a small bench for the both of them to sit in and eat for a while, so there’s nothing else to do but stuff their faces full and wave their hands at spicy, red mouths.

“i didn’t think it was going to be this hot,” taehyung groans, returning from where he had bought a water bottle at some convenience store nearby.

jungkook laughs. “really? you sure you didn’t see it in a vision or something?” he snickers at the end, quickly chewing on another dumpling.

“my spice tolerance is way higher than yours,” taehyung says, affronted. “my stomach is just out of order from that ice cream, alright?”

“i had ice cream too!”

taehyung pretends he can’t hear jungkook, which - fine. jungkook blows a raspberry at him before returning to his food, pulling his legs up to fold them underneath him for easier movement. taehyung downs half his water bottle, setting it aside with a large sigh when he’s done.

for a moment, all is silent and calm. jungkook sets down his chopsticks and rubs his hands together, comfortable in the warmth they bring. it’s slightly disrupted when taehyung goes, “divinity isn’t as great as it sounds.” there is odd inflection to his voice; quiet, diligent, subdued. jungkook sees that his expression has turned into something distant. he dares not to say a word.

“i mean. i know a lot of people wouldn’t choose to see the future - can you imagine always living with the knowledge of what’ll happen in the next second? what’s the point of even trying in the present, then? but i don’t regret my gift at all. it’s just hard, sometimes.”

jungkook has never regretted his gift, either. even when it gives him issues, pressing their way through his bloodstream, wreaking havoc in his meridians, jungkook has never regretted it.

“the future is always changing,” taehyung says, leaning back on his palms. he stares up at hongdae’s sky, which boast no stars. there are too many lights, too many sights, and everything else is drowned out. if there’s one thing jungkook misses about busan, it’s that you can see the world from the edge of nothing. “i see possible outcomes. stuff that can happen, that might not happen. the hardest part isn’t choosing what to do with the future, it’s trying to find the most likely outcome, whether it be good or bad.”

“how do you do it?”

taehyung hums. “i look at what i’m doing, and then look at the facts of the present. if this happens in the future, does that make sense? i choose the most acceptable course of action to get the result i want, but life isn’t like numbers. you don’t always get the number you rolled for. sometimes i’m not right.” he turns over, eyes squinting, half smiling. “that’s why i’m telling you right now to never listen to me, or take my word as gospel. for people who see the future, who knows where they are at any given moment?”

jungkook pauses. “where are you right now, hyung?”

“in hongdae, with one of my friends,” taehyung laughs. “come on, let’s go home.”

their trek home is quiet, comfortable. jungkook mulls over taehyung’s words while the other is busy on his phone. there’s a moment where jungkook feels like he should say something - anything - but it gets swallowed down his throat. the silence is enough for now, a slight break from being social.

there is life in the tiniest cracks. jungkook notices it while he’s walking through his own thoughts through seoul, eyes catching onto the edge of the sidewalk. small purple and white wildflowers greet him as he walks past. moss hiding in the depressions of the pavement squeak when jungkook moves over them. the grass whispers soft and easy, sleepy, and the trees lean down to affectionately brush against the top of his head. if taehyung notices anything amiss, he doesn’t mention it, but - he never steps on the cracks in the sidewalk.

the majestic dragon of their building greets them with a loop around the edges. jungkook smiles while taehyung presses his hand against the wall. it crumbles away at his touch, morphing into the doorway that he has become accustomed to. it’s a much grander entrance than jungkook’s; whenever he touches the wall that is supposed to his entrance, it slides away to reveal the corridor. perhaps this, too, changes with the person?

“next time we go out, we should visit itaewon,” taehyung hums with bright eyes. his inclusion - the subtle validation of there will be a next time - makes jungkook smile. “oh, we should invite yoongi-hyung, too!”

jungkook is heading up to his apartment automatically when he hears this, jerking. with wide eyes, he turns to taehyung, yoongi’s name sending a strange jolt through his fingers. “oh, we - we should!”

taehyung’s gaze turns to him for a moment, questioning, but it disappears into his usual interested look. jungkook must have been imagining it. “i’m going to head up to my apartment and take a shower before sleeping. i’ll text you tomorrow, jungkookie!”

“okay,” jungkook agrees. “just - please don’t text me while i’m sleeping.”

taehyung taps his head solemnly. “don’t worry, i’ll know - “

“hyung.”

snickering, taehyung waves while moving to climb up another flight of stairs. “remember to ask yoongi hyung, jungkookie!”

rolling his eyes fondly, jungkook fishes around his pockets for his keys, bringing them up to eye level to check if they’re the correct key, when something blank and white grabs his attention. breath caught in his throat, jungkook lowers the arm that’s holding his keys, letting it fall to his side.

yoongi’s door is white.

he’s never seen any door in the building this blank - even his own door, before it had been truly his own, was a soft shade of grey, pleasant and welcoming if not a blank palette waiting to be filled. yoongi’s door is blindly, gapingly white, not a trace of his usual dark color to be seen. jungkook falters a few meters away from it, unable to stop staring at the juxtaposition his own brightly colored door makes. while his is a cream, brightened by the yellow of subtle buttercups, yoongi’s resembles the inside of a lab or a doctor’s office: impersonal, cold, and sterile.

jungkook walks forward quickly, knuckles rapping on yoongi’s door before he realizes what he’s doing.there’s no answer, which is what jungkook had been expecting but it - he doesn’t expect it to hurt so much.

where did he go?

jungkook hurries into his own apartment, the door closing behind him with a firm click. he rests against it for a while, head ringing, thinking of yoongi’s hands on black and white keys, the subtle gentleness in his smile. jungkook doesn’t know why it feels like he can’t hear anything. he focuses on the things that he can control: his own breathing, for one, forcing himself to breathe in and out, one at a time, counting...

when he comes back to his senses, there’s an endless sea of green in front of him. the flora that had been moving all of over the ceiling respond to his magic instantaneously, moving forward to comfort him, leaves brushing against his cheek and chin. jungkook feels their light murmurs in his heart, worried whispers, and he weakly smiles.

reaching up to grasp one of the vines, jungkook feels prickles against his palm. “hey, i’m okay.”

they don’t believe him. for a moment all is still, and then jungkook reaches down to pull his shoes off, heartbeat returning to its normal rate.

he peels off the clothes taehyung had chosen for him earlier, blinking at the digital clock resting on his side table. 1am swims in front of him in bright, red lights. jungkook’s brain is numb when he goes to sleep, eyelids so heavy that they fall close on their own.

morning is - buzzing.

quiet, empty, forgiving. his plants don’t dare to come into his room, even though jungkook knows that - given the chance - they’d be happy to take over his space, intruding on every single last inch. jungkook kicks off his blankets and curls up.

his phone is awake before he is, pinging gently while on vibrate to tell him that there are people that want to talk to him no matter what. he grabs his phone momentarily, squinting at the bright screen, before setting it down on the bed so it won’t bother him anymore.

moving through his morning is like walking through molasses. he doesn’t know how to handle his own limbs, stumbling through a shower and changing into a pair of comfortable pajamas for the day. jungkook pulls out a bowl of cereal to eat while he’s scrolling through the tv, unwilling to go check through all his messages at the moment.

he blinks. the hours pass by slowly. at the back of his mind, he thinks about yoongi’s white door, and right behind his tv is the wall that separates their two apartments.

jungkook knows that it’s a bad idea. yoongi is his friend, that’s for sure, even if he’s way older and way cooler. they’re friends, right? they had promised to do stuff like friends would. jungkook doesn’t know why the thought twists at his stomach so ardently.

feeling stupid, in a moment of childishness, he kneels in front of the wall and presses his ear against the door. their walls are pretty thick, so there’s no way that - even if somewhere were to be in that apartment, jungkook could hear - but he still tries it anyway. unbidden, the memory of his panic attack rises to the forefront of his mind, the wall melting away to show yoongi’s shocked and worried stare. he wants to see yoongi, to know if he’s okay.

there’s nothing else but the sound of his own loud heartbeat. jungkook pinches the skin of his thigh, feeling silly. he wonders if it’d be weird to send yoongi a text, ask him how things are going. a sense of dread rises in him.

just forget about it, he says to himself, pulling away from the wall, his face burning in shame. despite wanting to see his yoongi-hyung, jungkook knows that some things just aren’t -

his inner thoughts get cut off by a strange rumbling sound; it’s not loud enough to be invasive, but it’s certainly not quiet. it’s accompanied by a gentle shaking of the floor, almost like a mini earthquake, and jungkook stumbles away to make sure that none of his potted plants on the shelves will fall over and break their ceramic homes; just when he’s saving a potted, peculiar petunia, he notices the origin of the sound.

the wall that had separated his apartment from yoongi’s has completely disappeared.

for a moment, silence permeates both the spaces, which is suddenly twice as large. jungkook freezes in place, as if someone could see him acting like a small woodland animal that doesn’t want to be eaten. his eyes quickly roam over yoongi’s apartment as if the man himself is there, waiting to pop out any moment, but after five minutes - after ten - there’s still...no one.

jungkook’s shoulders relax. he pulls away from his petunias, shushing them casually.

barefoot and cautious, he steps past the line separating his room from yoongi’s, holding his breath. unlike before, it feels too invasive now, harrowingly silent. almost like a morgue. jungkook can see the kitchen where he had gone to get something to fix up yoongi’s wound, the place where they had sat to play piano, the window where a lone buttercup rests, except - except -

none of those things are there anymore.

sure, the walls are as they are, but the furniture look untouched. there are no books on the coffee table, no keyboard, no wall decorations. it’s like everything has been stripped clean down to the bare bones. it scares him. even when he had thought of yoongi’s place as being a little bare, it hadn’t been like this, so utterly clean and so so so quiet that it felt suffocating. jungkook doesn’t know what to do. his hands shake a little as he pushes himself against the wall, as if yoongi can melt away from the wood and surprise him at any moment.

but there’s no one there. it feels wrong. something is wrong.

the distant sound of jungkook’s tv makes it worse.

he pulls away from yoongi’s apartment, ignoring the prickling at the back of his neck, and heads back to his room.

me
hi hyung, you’re doing well on vacation, right? ^^

unable to say anything else, jungkook puts his phone away and blinks rapidly, rubbing his hands over his arms. he hadn’t noticed when he got goosebumps. his fingers are freezing.

yoongi doesn’t answer.

/

he asks the building to close up the gap between them, but just as it’s difficult to mend the broken bridges between people, it’s just as hard trying to get the building to do what you want it to. jungkook is left with a missing wall but none of the freedom, all that blank space an imposing creature gnawing its way through to his own space. his plants quickly begin to shrink back, unnerved by the scenery.

so he spends the day outside on the balcony, or working on studying for next semester’s classes, or aimlessly watching new shows. jungkook is continuously cold, wearing two layers of sweaters and his fuzziest socks, pulling up an afghan every time he sits down for an extended period of time.

taehyung says that he’s going to try and go christmas shopping today, and jungkook can’t come because then you’ll know what i’m getting you, jungkookie! and that’s not the point! jungkook tells him that he should buy a present for his boyfriend or girlfriend, but taehyung only answers with an all telling lol. rolling his eyes in fondness, jungkook sets down his phone and starts up another episode of a kdrama he’s watching on his laptop.

his mind eventually moves away from the couple in front of him to the idea of a christmas looming in a week or two. it’s usually a holiday for couples, but there are times when close friends celebrate as well. jungkook thinks that - it would be nice, maybe, to have someone else to celebrate it with. his family hadn’t been big on christmas, but they had always made time to get some cake and have a little fake tree to pin up with ornaments and pictures. once jungkook had gotten better control of his powers, those fake trees had become real.

there’s not much he can do for the rest of them that wouldn’t break his wallet, however. getting nice gifts for six other people will be difficult, but he wants to try. they’ve made him feel welcome and loved in a way he hasn’t felt since leaving busan, and he can’t - he doesn’t know how to thank them for that. of course, most of them would yell at him that it’s not something that needs to be thanked, but. jungkook is grateful.

the idea comes to him when he’s watering his flowers, the edge of his watering can touching the edge of perfect peonies. jimin had liked the scent of peonies the last time he’d been over, and while jungkook wasn’t fond of people plucking his flowers, it might serve to be a good gift.

so he goes through amazon and orders a bunch of cheap perfume bottles, a bit of jojoba oil, and some alcohol. they’ll be here by the end of the week, just in time for him to go through with his creation.

invigorated by his own idea, jungkook goes around his apartment with quick feet, pulling the afghan over his shoulders. it’s still cold, yes, the air touched with a bit of frost from the winter months, but his hands are warm. each little flora waiting and winking green at him from the corners of his apartment recognize this too, all moving in toward his warmth.

in winter, it’s a bit harder to keep track of all his growing things, but jungkook has finagled a system for himself eventually. it’s never too cold for something to grow. and while he lets all of the warm air in his room go toward keeping his green blood alive, jungkook doesn’t regret having to layer up just to feel warm in return. the color, the scent and sight of spring blooming - it’s enough.

he picks flowers based on scent rather than meaning. jasmine, peony, chamomile, juniper, rose. he grows a small little plant of cedarwood - namjoon, he thinks, this suits namjoon - and then when it comes to yoongi -

jungkook pauses. thinks about sitting next to yoongi on the piano, white flowers curling around his legs. feeling his gaze settle on jungkook, easy and familiar, the bubble of something forming at the base of his spine.

sandalwood, he thinks to himself, brushing his fingers over an empty pot. jungkook’s eyes flicker to the empty apartment. it’s become easier to ignore it, easier to pretend it doesn’t exist, but sometimes he’s still reminded of the missing figure that should be there. the piano has begun to gather dust, but jungkook doesn’t touch it at all.

he gathers a couple more base notes and some dark bottles. in the end, he also gathers a couple of flowers, picking them with delicate movements so as not to crush their fragile appearances. most of them are to compliment the main scents of all the bottles he’ll make.

with a bit of magic and a word whispered, carried with the breeze, their colors become saturated, intense. jungkook himself prefers the muted, natural colors that is given by the earth, but the brightness of some flowers is needed for a long lasting gift.

he leaves them on the countertop of his kitchen, fingers humming with a buzzing energy. he hasn’t made anything in ages, and the ability to mix his magic with some of his own creative ability makes him excited in a way he’d never admit to anyone.

around five days later, when the rest of his materials come in, jungkook pulls the flowers from his countertop and begins the process of mixing everything together. he aims to make the top note his favorite - moonflower - and the middle notes the ones he’s chosen for everyone.

first off is making the actual perfume itself. since he’s got his jojoba oil and a good amount of alcohol (that can’t be used to drink, sadly) jungkook starts the process of making perfumes. it’s not as easy as it sounds; he had done it quite a bit in high school, wanting to experiment with what he could do with the excess of flowers he had cultivate in a short amount of time.

the bottles he bought were of all different shapes and sizes. seokjin’s is a main note of rose; jimin’s a sweet hint of peony; taehyung is the teasing hint of juniper; hoseok, the calming scent of chamomile; namjoon, the cedarwood; all of them underlying a touch of jasmine. yoongi’s, a bit of sandalwood, something that compliments him naturally.

the best part is placing the finished product in their final bottles, flicking his fingers and placing each preserved flower inside clear, simple bottles with finesse. when jungkook is finally done - after four long, long hours - he slumps in place. tired, happy, fingers cramping. it’s the best thing he’s done in a while.

he makes sure to hide the bottles away in in a dark, cool place, so as not to ruin their longevity. it goes in the corner of his closet, he decides, packed in a big shopping bag until he can get proper wrapping for them. christmas is in three days; taehyung had mentioned something about having a party at his place to celebrate, even though it would only be the two of them. with nothing else planned, jungkook agreed. he’d give the other bottles when everyone else comes back.

so into his cleaning and riding the residual high of self satisfaction, jungkook doesn’t hear the sound of the door unlocking and locking once more from the living room. he wraps his favorite afghan around himself again, whistling a bit while walking back to his sofa, before stopping cold.

yoongi stands there in the middle of his apartment, two large luggages at his feet. he’s covered head to toe in black outerwear and a fresh dusting of snow.

“hyung,” jungkook starts, but it’s so quiet and unreal that it sticks in his throat and barely moves across the room.

yoongi’s gaze, which had been focused on the different corners of the room, turn to jungkook as if he heard anyway. jungkook is struck with how - how tired he is, shadows gracing the space underneath his eyes, a pale waxiness to his complexion.

jungkook steps forward, blinking at the missing wall and then gripping his afghan tighter, as if it were tight enough he could finally disappear - “i - i can - the wall - “

“you don’t need to explain,” yoongi says, and - and his voice - jungkook hasn’t heard his voice in so long, or seen him, and he finds himself drinking in the sight of yoongi greedily, wanting to sit next to him and watch him play the piano. trace the lines of his tattoo with jungkook’s eyes, or his fingers -

but he sounds so tired. so distant.

“it disappeared by itself,” he says, voice small.

“you don’t need to explain,” yoongi says again, expression unreadable but exhausted. he’s the only dark spot in a mess of white, and it looks so, so wrong.

“hyung,” jungkook tries, one more time, unsure of why panic seems to rise in him so suddenly.

yoongi tilts his head to the side a little, considering jungkook’s tone, before smiling. he looks less like the yoongi jungkook doesn’t know and more like the yoongi that wanted to learn about flowers even though they would die by his hands. “i’m a little tired, jungkook.”

jungkook doesn’t say anything, blinks with wide eyes.

yoongi turns away from him, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. slowly, right before jungkook’s eyes, the wall separating them rebuilds itself again until jungkook is alone once more.